he went on:
'Don't believe anyone has been curious, but they will be. Dawes has been flashin' a lot of money in poker games at the Nugget. Where'd he get it? The time may come when he'll have to answer some questions. I only hope Bill isn't mixed up in the answers.'
Kirby felt sick. If Bill had actually sold stolen cows, even if he hadn't run them up the trail on a rainy night, the end result was the same. He was as guilty as if he had been caught with a running iron in his hand. If he was guilty, then there could be but one end. Sooner or later he would be taken. There would be a high limb, a tight rope, and the name of Street would be dragged in the dust of the range where it had always meant all that was fine and honorable.
There was nothing more he could say, and Josh, as if dismayed at the effect of his words, fell silent. At that moment Curly appeared, riding toward them on the trail. He was breathless with excitement.
'Josh,' he yelled as soon as he got within hearing distance, 'Mr. Street, our cows have plumb disappeared.' He slid his horse to a stop in the mud.
'Gone,' echoed Kirby and Josh together. 'What do you mean?'
'I mean the critters has vamoosed. We went clean to the head of the flat, and there ain't a cow to be seen. And no tracks, either.'
'How many head in the bunch?' Kirby asked the foreman.
'Two twenty-five, two hundred fifty head maybe. They just took to the hills. We'll find 'em scattered to hell- an'-gone.'
'Wanta bet?' asked Curly. 'I've been hazin' mossy horns all my life. When cows move they leave tracks. If this bunch took to the hills, they took wings and flew. Ask Ringo.'
An hour later Kirby and his ramrod had to admit that Curly was right. There was plenty of sign that the cows had been grazing on the flat. But they searched all three sides of the rectangular meadow and found nothing more than the old tracks of an occasional stray. No herd of cows had left the flat. There was only one answer… the river.
'When was the last time you checked this bunch?' Kirby asked.
Curly answered, ' 'Bout a week ago, Ringo and me brought up a couple blocks of salt.'
Kirby thought a moment. 'Josh, I seem to remember that the Clear shallows down about here. Didn't we use this as a ford a few years back?'
'Yeah. In normal times the river ain't deeper than a cow's shoulder, except maybe in holes. Your Dad used to ford here regular. Put a whole trail herd through oncet.'
'Wish we could cross and look for sign on the other bank.'
The four studied the muddy, churning stream. The Clear was rising to a height none ever remembered seeing this late in the season. Driftwood bobbed along in sucking whirlpools. Once they watched a dead cow go by, mute evidence of the extent of the cloudburst upstream. A normally quiet river, the Clear had begun to chuckle and grumble with the unaccustomed weight it carried.
Josh asked the question: 'Did any of you ever know a steer to take to water without someone beatin' his rump with a lass rope? When our bunch crossed they weren't goin' for a swim… they was hazed across.' A spasm of anger crossed his face. 'There ain't but one answer. We been rustled. And I mean to see the skunks responsible twistin' at the end of a rope if it's my last act. Wagon is big, but not big enough to take that kind of loss… and not layin' down, neither.'
Ringo had his say. 'Me and Curly heard talk in the Nugget that rustlers were busy, but we never thought they'd hit Wagon. Me, I'm gonna start ridin' with a saddle gun.'
Curly agreed. 'I was just thinking that. And they sure got a break from the weather. Time the river goes down, there ain't goin' to be a cow track in ten miles. And unless I miss my guess, any tracks on high ground are goin' to be buried under a heap of snow by tonight.'
Even as he spoke, great white flakes of snow began to flatten against their faces. In a little while the flakes were only half as big but increasing in intensity. The first real snowstorm of the year broke from clouds so low that it seemed a man could stand in his stirrups and touch them.
Josh was frankly concerned. 'Let's ride, men. Can't hardly see the trail now, and ain't none of us dressed for a spell out here if this turns into a norther.'
They made it in the nick of time. As the outlines of the pole corral loomed before them, the wind began to shriek with the wild, fierce keening of a real blizzard.
They unsaddled in the shelter of the barn. Josh counted saddles on the rack. 'Mighty glad everyone's in. Sure hate to think of any of 'em bein' caught out in this. Hope they got everything down in the bottoms before this started. I'll go find out.' He started for the bunkhouse, barely visible through the whirling whiteness. Kirby stopped him at the barn door. Shouting above the wind's roar, he called, 'Better have a couple of boys put up some safety rope. Probably need them to get around by morning. And if you can make it, come up to the house for chuck.'
Josh nodded and, tucking his hat into the front of his coat, ran for the bunkhouse. He fought the wind, quartering toward his objective as if swimming against a heavy current. The two punchers flipped a hand and followed their foreman.
When Kirby stepped into the force of the gale he knew panic as the icy wind took his breath, felt himself being lifted from the ground. He grabbed for the top fence rail and followed it as far as he could. Gathering all his strength, he dashed for the house. As he ran he remembered the stories, all too true, of men caught within a few feet of their doorsteps, unable to make safety. He hurtled into the side of the house with such force that he was knocked back. Edging along the wall, step by step, he made for the door. He felt panic again as he realized that he should have reached it. I've lost my sense of direction, he thought. Spread-eagled against the house, he retraced his steps and knew sick relief when he caught a glimmer of light from the kitchen door.
It took all his strength to hold the door as he opened it and attempted to slide through as small a crack as possible. Snow flurried into the room, and the cook range roared with the furious draft. Maria threw her vast bulk against the wood, and they got it closed.
'I was gettin' awful worried, boy,' she told him anxiously. 'If you hadn't come soon, Manuel was going to rope himself to the house and make a run for the bunkhouse to see if you were there. Is everyone in?'
'Reckon all the boys are in, Maria. What's for supper?' He sniffed the steamy fragrance in the big kitchen. 'As if I cared, long as you cooked it.' He caught her in a big hug just as Manuel came into the room.
'Caught, by golly,' he groaned. 'Go ahead and shoot, Manuel. I'll admit I was hugging your wife.' He bowed his head. 'I'll take it like a man.'
The old man laughed. 'Maria shows good taste, Kirby. First me, then you.' They all laughed.
'Manuel, you're the weather oracle. How long is this going to last?'
The reply came grimly. 'Only two-three times before have I seen such a blizzard so early. They lasted four days. Muddy lost many cows. This is going to be one bad winter.'
'Well, let's die with full stomachs. Hope you have plenty chuck in the pantry, Maria. Hate to have to eat up everything tonight.'
Her answer was lost in a blast of wind and snow from the door. They helped Josh free the rope from about his waist and shut the door. His face was red, and snow was frozen in his eyelashes, although the trip from the bunkhouse was but a few paces. With typical understatement he said, 'This here's a real norther, and gettin' worse all the time. Wouldn't have tried to make it even with a rope and the boys on the other end, except I got news. One of the boys came in from town before the weather broke with some news I knew you'd want to hear.'
Once again Kirby felt the chill fingers of premonition. 'Bad news?' he asked.
Josh grimaced. 'Reckon so. Bill has sold some more cows. Way I figure, he sold about two hundred head more than he should have left out of the split.' He stopped as Kirby made an involuntary movement, then went on, 'Our boy talked to the buyer. Said they was all recent re-branded. And they're long gone now, shipped out of Galeyville five days ago. Can't check on 'em now, not in this blizzard.'
Kirby stared at Josh with unseeing eyes. 'Don't guess it'll be necessary. Reckon we know all we need to know.' He took a deep breath.
'Soon as the weather breaks, we ride to Lazy B.'
'Yeah. Reckon we have to,' growled Josh. He watched with real pain in his eyes as Kirby left the kitchen and walked slowly down the hall toward his room, supper forgotten.
