wait. They are here right now. All you got to do is roll on ahead."
He turned his horse. "And don't use yourself up. One night soon you'll have visitors."
"You mean that bunch from back there? You think they'd follow this far?"
"I think they have follered you. I think they are just a-settin' back waitin' for you to get bogged down or in some corner of the breaks where they'll have you dead to rights."
Duncan McKaskel let his hands fall to his sides. He knew his mules could not last much longer with the present load and the terrain he was crossing. He knew Susanna would be broken-hearted at leaving behind her possessions, and he did not want her to have to leave them behind. He knew the trail before them was long and bleak with only uncertainty beyond that. And now this.
He had been frightened that day in the town. He had gone ahead, and he remembered how each foot came down almost of its own volition as he moved forward. He had been walking ahead, moving into a trap with no thought of turning aside.
That had been in the open. Here there would be unseen enemies ... and he remembered those men, a bad, bad lot.
"We will have to do the best we can," he said simply, "but now we have to be getting on."
He started the team, and they leaned into their harness, he took them gently, talking to them, urging them on. They started the wagon, and with the added strength of the sorrels, got through the first stretch of sand.
Night came before they cleared the sand-hills and got down to the bottom land near the river.
They camped where there was a good cool spring, with grass and water near Walnut Creek. As Duncan McKaskel stripped the harness from the horses and mules, he looked around for Con. He had disappeared. "Did you see Mr. Vallian leave, Tom?"
"No, Pa. He was here one minute and when I looked around he was gone."
"We'll have a quick meal," McKaskel said, "and then we'll put out our fire."
When the boy started to gather sticks at a place near the wagon, McKaskel shook his head. "No ... down in the hollow."
They wasted no time. Susanna made a quick pot of coffee and heated up some stew she had carried along in the wagon. When they had finished eating, the fire was put out and they moved back to the wagon.
Duncan had drawn the wagon among some trees and had the stock picketed nearby, but as darkness closed down he watered the stock again and brought them in close.
"Tom, you take the first watch," Duncan handed his gold watch to the boy. "When it's ten o'clock, you waken your mother."
Susanna slept in the wagon with the shotgun close by. She lay awake for a few minutes, regretting the red glow of the coals and worried by the rising wind.
Chapter VIII
He came into the camp so softly she had no idea he was there until he spoke. "They're out there, ma'am. You'd better wake your man."
She had been sitting with her back against the wheel, the shotgun in her lap, and she had heard no sound nor movement but the wind in the trees.
"You move very quietly," she said.
"I don't know what they're figurin' on, but you'd better be ready."
He saw her move toward the wagon, then slipped back into the brush. The wind was strong and rising. It was going to rain ... maybe hail. Vallian glanced at the sky, but it was so dark he could see no detail of the clouds, just a solid blackness. Far-off he heard a rumble of thunder, and he wondered if they had ever experienced a prairie thunderstorm. If they had not, they were in for a shock.
He held his rifle ready and went down through the trees, easing down a steep bank by passing himself from tree to tree where he could not have walked without them. At the bottom, close against a tree trunk, he listened.
It was a good night for an attack, too much noise to hear clearly, and constant movement of trees and brush. They would come along the creek bottom ... their own camp was on the river or near it, not three hundred yards off. There was small chance that anyone else was anywhere around, but
He turned his horse. "And don't use yourself up. One night soon you'll have visitors."
"You mean that bunch from back there? You think they'd follow this far?"
"I think they have follered you. I think they are just a-settin' back waitin' for you to get bogged down or in some corner of the breaks where they'll have you dead to rights."
Duncan McKaskel let his hands fall to his sides. He knew his mules could not last much longer with the present load and the terrain he was crossing. He knew Susanna would be broken-hearted at leaving behind her possessions, and he did not want her to have to leave them behind. He knew the trail before them was long and bleak with only uncertainty beyond that. And now this.
He had been frightened that day in the town. He had gone ahead, and he remembered how each foot came down almost of its own volition as he moved forward. He had been walking ahead, moving into a trap with no thought of turning aside.
That had been in the open. Here there would be unseen enemies ... and he remembered those men, a bad, bad lot.
"We will have to do the best we can," he said simply, "but now we have to be getting on."
He started the team, and they leaned into their harness, he took them gently, talking to them, urging them on. They started the wagon, and with the added strength of the sorrels, got through the first stretch of sand.
Night came before they cleared the sand-hills and got down to the bottom land near the river.
They camped where there was a good cool spring, with grass and water near Walnut Creek. As Duncan McKaskel stripped the harness from the horses and mules, he looked around for Con. He had disappeared. "Did you see Mr. Vallian leave, Tom?"
"No, Pa. He was here one minute and when I looked around he was gone."
"We'll have a quick meal," McKaskel said, "and then we'll put out our fire."
When the boy started to gather sticks at a place near the wagon, McKaskel shook his head. "No ... down in the hollow."
They wasted no time. Susanna made a quick pot of coffee and heated up some stew she had carried along in the wagon. When they had finished eating, the fire was put out and they moved back to the wagon.
Duncan had drawn the wagon among some trees and had the stock picketed nearby, but as darkness closed down he watered the stock again and brought them in close.
"Tom, you take the first watch," Duncan handed his gold watch to the boy. "When it's ten o'clock, you waken your mother."
Susanna slept in the wagon with the shotgun close by. She lay awake for a few minutes, regretting the red glow of the coals and worried by the rising wind.
Chapter VIII
He came into the camp so softly she had no idea he was there until he spoke. "They're out there, ma'am. You'd better wake your man."
She had been sitting with her back against the wheel, the shotgun in her lap, and she had heard no sound nor movement but the wind in the trees.
"You move very quietly," she said.
"I don't know what they're figurin' on, but you'd better be ready."
He saw her move toward the wagon, then slipped back into the brush. The wind was strong and rising. It was going to rain ... maybe hail. Vallian glanced at the sky, but it was so dark he could see no detail of the clouds, just a solid blackness. Far-off he heard a rumble of thunder, and he wondered if they had ever experienced a prairie thunderstorm. If they had not, they were in for a shock.
He held his rifle ready and went down through the trees, easing down a steep bank by passing himself from tree to tree where he could not have walked without them. At the bottom, close against a tree trunk, he listened.
It was a good night for an attack, too much noise to hear clearly, and constant movement of trees and brush. They would come along the creek bottom ... their own camp was on the river or near it, not three hundred yards off. There was small chance that anyone else was anywhere around, but
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