CHAPTER 6
Realizing that he was not alone, Matthew lithely jumped to his feet and turned to face the stranger who sat on a scrappy looking black and white paint. The stranger was sitting quite still with his forearms crossed and resting on his saddle horn. He looked to be a man in his thirties with tanned leathery skin. Azure eyes were taking in the whole of Matthew from below the shadow of his wide brimmed hat, assessing and weighing every detail. The examination had made Matthew feel exposed, and though Matthew had no idea how use a gun, he felt especially vulnerable when his own eyes fell upon the pistol holstered upon the hip of the stranger.
For an uncomfortable moment there was silence standing between the two men. Then in an easily smooth voice resonating with confidence, the stranger spoke up, “Looks like you’ve got a creek runnin’ from the tree line, Son.”
Matthew’s brows furrowed with a questioning look. “You got a trickle of blood coming out of your hair,” explained the stranger. “Looks like you’ve been on the bad end of a fight with a bear, Son.”
Matthew gave himself a scrutinizing examination. He could see that his clothes were a mess having been covered in dust, and a gapping tear in his pants exposed his left knee. His hands had taken on the color of the soil he had rolled through during his fall. What he couldn’t see was his head. His hair had been matted in blood around his scalp wound, while the rest of his hair had flown out in every random direction. His face had blood smeared across his forehead and down the side of his face, crusted in the blood was a mixture of dirt and small bits of grass. Below his eyes were the telltale signs of tears that had yet to dry and had streaked their way through the dirt. He was indeed a heap of a mess.
“I fell off the horse,” was Matthew’s simplistic explanation.
The stranger raised an eyebrow in disbelief knowing that there had to be more to the story, but he let the comment stand unchallenged. “You ain’t exactly dressed for riding out here.”
“To be quit honest, I hadn’t intending to be riding today.” Matthew offered nothing more in explanation. He was unsure of this stranger’s intentions or character, and so far the strangers of today had proved to be very perilous. So Matthew’s forthcoming was being held in check.
“And how ‘bout your friend over yonder sleepin’ in the road,” inquired the stranger, “that your doin’?” Matthew looked over his shoulder to the fallen thief, but before he could respond the stranger went on with his own assessment, “…but you ain’t got a gun, and I doubt you used that Good Book there in your hand to do that kind of work.”
“First off, he’s not my friend.” Matthew said this with more venom than he intended.
“Just a manner of speakin’, Son. But then again, you’ve been sheadin’ a few tears over something. I thought it could’ve been over him.”
Matthew self-consciously wiped at his face and simultaneously looked away from the probing gaze of the stranger. Few men enjoy being caught with a tear-streaked face. Seeing that the stranger had read him so clearly seemed to melt away Matthew’s reticence. “No, he would warrant no tears from me. He was part of the problem.”
With a heavy sigh of resignation Matthew looked off into the distance at nothing in particular and continued, “This morning I was on a coach with my wife. We were heading to Denver.” In a few moments Matthew gave a simple narrative of the morning’s events and his flight after the thieves and being shot from the back of the horse.
“You see, it all happened too fast. I had no idea which way was which when I woke up. All I wanted was to get after my wife. I don’t understand what happened that brought me back here. When I went after this horse I saw clearly in the grass the way the grass bent when I walked through it. That gave me the idea as to which way to go when I went back to follow the horses tracks. But it didn’t work out. Here I am right back where I started.”
The stranger had listened quietly during Matthew’s dialogue, which had flowed more easily the longer he talked. For Matthew, the telling of the story was like a stream in which to wash his emotions. The circumstances were no better for him, but many times the simple act of talking refreshes the soul.
When Matthew had finished his words, there was a short pause as the stranger mulled on the story. He lifted his eyes and gave the area a sweeping appraisal while he ordered his own thoughts. “You need to know that there ain’t a whole lot of hope for someone who’s green out here. You’ll get lost quicker ‘an you can blink. I’d say you show’d a pretty flare of savvy being able to realize that the grass can tell a story for you.” He pause and looked over Matthew once again before continuing. “The problem is that you don’t know the language. Its like trying to read Mexican, or Frenchy or some other ought lingo.
“You see, when a man walks the grass, the grass bends and points in the direction of your goin’s. But that ain’t so with the horse. The grass plumb turns around and points in the direction of the animals comin’s. That’s why you ended up here instead of yonder.”
Matthew sighed at the revelation of his mistake. During the stranger’s explanation Matthew had turned to look at the grass. Now he could plainly see the meaning the grass’s story.
“You said there was seven of these men?” inquired the stranger.
Matthew simply nodded his head in affirmation to the question.
“Look behind you,” chimed the stranger. “See on the other side of the road there. Looks like at least two of the riders had come from the opposite direction. My guess is that they had been sitting on that little rise over there to watch the approach of your coach. When the time was right, they come back here to meet up with the others. Guess they thought you’d all be easy pickin’s.”
“They didn’t get much in the way of money from the lot of us, but it cost them plenty,” said Matthew. “They started out with seven, then the leader shot this one, and one of our own shot at least two others. They’re laying not to far off that way, and I think he said that he may have hit another, but I didn’t see anyone else laying in the grass while I was chasing after them.”
“What was you expecting to do if you did get up with ‘em? That was a ride to death, Son.”
“I didn’t have a plan. I just had to get to Alice, my wife.”
“Well, I suppose I’d done somethin’ just as fool hearty if I were in your shoes. Don’t know if I’d call it brave or just plain blind.”
After a thoughtful pause the stranger went on with an inquiry, “Tell me, your wife Alice, is she easy on the eyes?”
“She doesn’t wear glasses, if that’s what you mean.”
“No, no. What I mean is, is she a pretty lady?”
“More beautiful than a sunrise,” replied Matthew with a longing in his voice.
“Don’t get my words wrong, Son. Many a man out this way could shoot you in the back or jump your claim with not more ‘an a blink. But women are somethin’ of a holy matter. The vast majority of men will tip her the hat and speak ‘Yes, Ma’am’ to her. We respect and honor a lady out this way.
“That’s most men, but there is a crowd of them that use up the women and even sells ‘em in the backcountry. These are low down men. Men not worthy of your spit. I ain’t got no use for such a man. I’d just as like to shoot ‘em as anythin’ else.”
Matthew felt a new wave of anguish crash over him with these words. It showed on his face and his body gave a shudder. “The one that took her,” said Matthew, “mentioned something about getting money for her.”
The stranger nodded his head, “That’s what I was suspectin’, she was took to be sold, cause it ain’t worth the effort for nothin’ but a good time… I mean… to haul her off to some odd camp or hideout or what have you. If your Alice is a pretty one, she just may be safe for a piece of time, but you can never know with these kind of scum. If these despots are after the cash, as I’m thinkin’ they is, then they’ll be wantin’ to keep the goods good, so to speak.”
Defeatedly Matthew responded to the stranger’s encouragement, “But I’ve lost so much time already, and in light of my earlier efforts, I doubt I have much of a chance of catching up to them at all. They’ve got to be miles from here by now.”
“Well,” said the stranger, “the way I see it, the bee don’t buzz far from the hive.”
“What do you mean?” inquired Matthew with a puzzled look.
“Well, that horse you got was one of theirs. I don’t see a bedroll on the back of that seat, or any gear. Ain’t nobody gonna leave their gear at some camp if they’re on the move. Nope. I’d be pressed to say that your gang is near abouts- probably less ‘en ten miles or so. I bet a dollar to your penny that they is less ‘an ten miles or so. Well, at leastwise, not too much further ‘an that.” He finished this explanation with the slow nod of the head as one who knows.
Matthew turned to look in the direction that the thieves had fled. “‘Ten miles,’ you say. How can you be so sure of that?”
“Well, Son, look at that horse.”
Matthew fixed his eyes on his horse to find a clue to the stranger’s meaning. If there was a trace of evidence somewhere on the horse, he sure couldn’t perceive it. After a short moment, Matthew gave a slight shrug, “What should I see?”
“It looks too fresh to be from much further ‘an that. He ain’t hangin’ his head, and he still has a lively step. Yes, that horse is still somewhat fresh. If it were on the trail for a while, it’d get a dog-tired look to it, the ribs would show a bit more, and the coat wouldn’t have that smooth look. No, that horse has a good-grass feed look to it. The hooves don’t look beat up. He ain’t been rode hard anytime lately.”
Matthew’s eyes had taken in each detail as it was being explained to him, and he could see the meaning of the clues. He remembered the hard chase and how the horse hadn’t seemed to slow up, which in retrospect helped to support the stranger’s idea.
The stranger dismounted from his horse and walked over to the slain thief, bent over him, and started to unbuckle the thief’s holster. “You said that you dropped his gun back where you done fell off. You’ll be needin’ this to carry it more effective like when we retrieve it.”
Matthew heard the word “we” and it gave him a start. “Are you planning on helping me?” The hope in his voice was hard to hide. The idea of recruiting this stranger hadn’t entered Matthew’s mind, but he knew that this is exactly what he needed.
“Sure ‘nough. I told you that women are mostly holy out this here way.” Straightening up from the corpse with the holster in his hand, he continued while he made eye contact with Matthew, “What kind of a man would I be if I passed a lady in distress?
“Now here, put this on,” the stranger said while proffering the holster to Matthew. “Next we’ve got to get you cleaned up just a bit. Last thing you want is for that crease cross your head to get the rot. There is a shallow little stream off that a way,” he said with a nod in the direction of the thieves’ trail, “we can give you a cleanin’ there.”
The stranger wasn’t wasting any movements. He had turned and was already mounting his horse while Matthew hastily strapped the holster around his waist. “Son, you need to drop that leather a little lower to the hips. A gun is no good in your armpits. Get it low so your hand don’t have to move so much to get at it.”
Matthew stopped and looked down at the holster he was putting on. It was cinched up right across his belly button. He glanced back at the stranger while loosening the buckle. “I’ve never worn one of these before. Fact is, I’ve never used a gun before.”
“I kind of gave that a figurin’ already. Looks like you’ll be needin’ to learn real fast how the mean end of a gun works.”
“My name is Matthew Moore.” Matthew paused for a heartbeat, and then went on, “I want to thank you for helping me and my wife like this.”
“No need to be mentionin’ thanks. My folks called me Chet. The whole of it is Chet Garret.”
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