Only 06 - Winter Fire

Injun.”
    â€œDam—”
    â€œJust be damned sure she ain’t no chief’s wife or daughter, savvy?” Ab said, talking right over Moody. “Some of them redskins are pure poison when they’re on the prod.”
    If Case had been a smiling kind of man, the words would have made him smile. He knew just why Ab was so touchy on the subject of stealing the wrong Indian girl.
    Over in the Ruby Mountains of Nevada, Ab and some of his kin had tangled with Indians over a stolen girl. Ab and Kester were the only Culpeppers who survived. They had faded out of the losing fight, mounted up, and gone to join their remaining kin in Utah Territory.
    â€œWhat about them two white women over to LostRiver Canyon?” asked a new voice. “They’re close. All they got guarding them is a kid and that old outlaw. Them’s good odds.”
    â€œThat girl is supposed to be right tasty, dammit,” Moody said eagerly.
    Other men joined in with a chorus of rough comments about the girl they had seen only through their spyglasses.
    Hearing the voices, Sarah fought against the nausea that was trying to wring her stomach like a washrag.
    â€œShut up,” Ab said flatly. “Get it through your noggins. Ain’t no raiding close to camp.”
    â€œBut—”
    â€œ Shut up .”
    For a moment there was only the faint sound of water trickling down stone into darkness.
    â€œNothin’ riles the army like a white woman gettin’ raped by half-breeds,” Ab said coldly. “If I decide the Kennedy widow needs taking care of, I’ll do it personally and legally. I’ll marry it.”
    There were faint grumblings from Moody and his men, but no real protest. When they first met, one of Moody’s gang had tested Ab’s temper. The man had died before his gun was even partway out of the holster.
    Ab was as fast with a six-shooter as any man Moody’s Breeds had ever seen, and they thought they had seen them all.
    Until Ab Culpepper.
    â€œBe easier to winter at Lost River ranch, dammit,” Moody said.
    â€œEasy ain’t always best. Time you learned that. We’re gonna do just what we planned.”
    â€œStay in Spring Canyon?” asked another voice. “ Por Dios , the wind there, she is very cold.”
    â€œIf you and the rest of the breeds got the lead out of your butts,” Ab said, “camp would be snug as a tick in a hound’s ear.”
    Someone swore in disgust but no one spoke up.
    â€œI’ll kill the next man I see rustling Circle A beef,” Ab said.
    No one said a word.
    â€œSame for any man who messes with them white women,” he added.
    â€œEven Big Lola?” Moody asked in disbelief.
    â€œI hear she done give up the sporting life.”
    â€œSure, but dammit, she’s just an old whore, dammit!”
    â€œLeave her be. We’re gonna do what them ’Paches do. Live quiet at home and raid far off.”
    There were restless movements but no voice spoke against Ab Culpepper’s calm, ruthless orders.
    â€œIn a year or so,” Ab said, “we’ll have ourselves a thousand head of stock and enough women for a sultan’s palace. Anyone got trouble with that?”
    Silence.
    â€œAll right. Get your tails back to camp. Kester and me will ride the back trail and see if any Circle A folks take a notion to come calling. You got any questions, talk to Parnell.”
    Shod hooves clicked on stones. The unshod hooves of the mustangs Moody’s men rode made less noise.
    The smell of dust rose up to the shallow cave where Sarah and Case lay motionless.
    After it had been silent for several minutes, she started to get up. Instantly he was over her again, flattening her, silencing her with a hand across her mouth.
    â€œAb” was all Case whispered.
    It was all he had to say. She became utterly still.
    Long minutes went by.
    â€œTold you,” Kester said.
    â€œAn’ I’m telling you,” Ab said, “that someone is out there.”
    â€œGhost.”
    â€œGhost,” Ab mocked. “Ain’t no ghosts, boy. How many times I have to tell you?”
    â€œSeen ’em.”
    â€œOnly at the bottom of a bottle.”
    â€œSeen ’em,” Kester repeated.
    â€œAin’t you the baby. Pa woulda kicked your sorry ass all the way round the holler.”
    â€œSeen ’em.”
    â€œShee-it. Next you’ll be whining about them Texicans