with me. “Are we going to have a look-see, or not?”
“We?”
I glanced at him, and the little bald-headed gent shrugged.
“In for a penny, in for a pound I always say. We’ve traveled far enough together that I guess we might think of ourselves as partners now. And I’ve got a special dislike for thieves in any case. Having the chance to administer a little justice would give me a feeling of personal pleasure.”
Monk took his shotgun from underneath the seat and made a move like he meant to climb down. Then he stopped and looked back over his shoulder. “That is, unless you’d rather tackle this job all by yourself?”
“Hell,” I said, still keepin’ my voice quiet as I threw a leg over and started easin’ myself to the ground. “Come on along and welcome, if you’re of the mind. It ain’t no part of my nature to keep any man from his pleasures.”
Tell the truth, I was glad to have somebody along for company at the moment. Leastways a man what been up the river and over the mountain like they say, and who could handle hisself the way this Monk appeared to do.
’T weren’t that I didn’t reckon I could of took on them three by myself if the need was there. But I figured it didn’t hurt my chances any to have this gent with his sawed-off shotgun watchin’ over my backside as I made my way up to them owlhoots’ camp. I’d already learnt what brand of cold, hard customers they could be, with that Lila prob’ly the hardest an’ coldest of ’em all.
It wouldn’t of surprised me a bit if she’d arranged to keep one of ’em on watch through the night, purely as a matter of caution. Even though far as I could tell she’d no way of guessin’ that I or anybody else was on their back trail.
When Monk got done tyin’ his mules to a scrub cedar, we moved off a little ways into the shadow of some pines and had us a low-voiced council of war. That infernal rig of his didn’t travel near quiet enough for me to feel confident about us reachin’ this place without somebody takin’ notice of our approach, even if they had to wake up from a sound sleep in order to do it.
It was a good half mile to where that light was showin’, and the woods all round behind us ought to keep anybody from seein’ the wagon’s outline against the sky. But if they was payin’ attention to sounds in the night, they’d sure as shootin’ know something was out here, without maybe guessin’ exactly what it was. What we needed was some kind of a scheme to sneak up closer and have a look, while not stumblin’ into some welcoming committee that was all primed an’ loaded to meet us.
The idea I’d got in mind was to make my way on down the road afoot for a good fair distance, then face about and Injun up on the camp — or whatever it happened to be — from beyond in the opposite direction. If it turned out they was expectin’ visitors, that was the last place they’d think of to look for ’em, and it might give me a chance to get the jump on the entire party.
In the meantime I suggested to Monk that he follow along this here tree-line so’s to get hisself as near as possible to that light on this side without bein’ noticed. He could make up his own mind then about whether it was safe to sneak any closer acrost the open space between ’em. In any case he was to come on the run from wherever he was, just soon’s he heard me start to make my play.
Monk seemed agreeable enough, and from his manner I’d a idea he was the kind of gent who could handle a job like that without gettin’ flustered. And without takin’ no foolish chances what could turn out with either or both of us bein’ shot full of holes.
When I’d checked the action on that Smith an’ Wesson again, I slid a shell out of the cartridge belt to load the empty chamber under the hammer before droppin’ her back in the holster. As a general rule, havin’ that one less shot is a heap safer than havin’ some kind of a accident from a buckin’ bronc or a unplanned tumble on the ground. But I weren’t carryin’ no extra weapons with me this time, and I seen a altercation or two when all six shots from a six-shooter didn’t hardly appear to be enough.
Monk Drucker touched the brim of his high-hat in salute before we separated. And I started back down towards the road with a partin’ wave.
It was high grass all around hereabouts, ’cept where the road served to part it a mite. And since the cool of the evening had set in, that grass was wet with dew. I didn’t much appreciate gettin’ my clothes all damp, and covered with stickers to boot, from snakin’ through that thick growed-up prairie — sometimes on my hands an’ knees and now an’ again on my belly. But I favored the notion of a bullet between my shoulder blades a whole heap less, so I done what was needful. Took my time at it too, so’s to make as little sound an’ show of my passin’ as possible.
It must of been the better part of a hour before I reached the woods on the other side of that stand of live oaks where we’d seen the light. And then it took a while longer to ease myself up through the trees an’ brush towards a place where I could have a tol’able view of the surroundings.
I had to hope my new-found partner weren’t startin’ to get too impatient by now. Although there wasn’t much help for it if he was. I was a right cautious man when it come to any game where my hide was part of the stakes, and I meant to stay that way. From all appearances, Monk Drucker was a gent who could understand that kind of thinkin’.
When I’d finally got myself up to maybe thirty, forty yards off from what was left of the campfire, I could see pretty good that that was exactly what it was. Only a couple red coals was showin’ now, with ever onct in awhile a little yellow lick of flame from some scrap of bark or pitch what hadn’t burned itself out entire yet.
I eased myself over to where I could hunker down behind a couple low-growin’ bushes at the edge of the woods, and took my time studyin’ the layout. That new Smith an’ Wesson six-shooter’d done found its way into my fist by then, comin’ easy to my hand like it was already some part of me.
I could barely make out several dark shapes on the ground near the fire what might of been bedrolls. But from where I was watchin’ they could just as easy been the twisted-up roots of them big ole live oak trees. After I’d shifted my gaze back an’ forth a time or two, lookin’ for any movement what might appear at the corners of my eyes, I was reasonable certain there weren’t nothin’ nor nobody stirring about that camp at the moment.
So either the folks who’d built the fire was powerful sound sleepers. Or maybe they wasn’t just exactly where I expected them to be.
Along about then it struck me that I hadn’t come acrost no sign of horses nor livestock neither. Could be that meant the campers was just some strangers travelin’ on foot, which was a more common thing hereabouts than out in them western lands I’d lived in till recently. But it might mean too, that I’d ought to take a little better look around before jumpin’ to conclusions.
So after one more glance about the fire without seein’ nothing I hadn’t already seen, I eased myself further back into the shadows and got to my feet. If there wasn’t no animals picketed out yonder in the grass, which seemed the likeliest spot unless somebody had concerns they might be noticed, it appeared the only other place to leave ’em would be right here in these woods where I was standin’.
I took a long, slow, careful look all around in ever direction, movin’ nothing but my head and the hand what held the six-shooter. But underneath them thick branches everthing was so pitch black that I didn’t expect I would of caught sight of a elephant if the critter was standin’ a dozen feet in front of me.
Then
