Tyrel, younger than he as he was younger than Tell, but Tyrel was different, had always been different. And perhaps the best of them all with a gun.
Gone!
No, he'd not accept it, not until he found some tangible evidence of their death. Yet, at the same time, his experience told him the risk they had run, the dangers to be expected, the attraction of such a herd of cattle moving through Sioux country.
Nonetheless, he must plan as though they were gone.
He must plan to round up the cattle, scattered though they might be, and deliver them himself.
He would, of course, need help. Baptiste seemed willing to go along, but he was only a cart driver. What he would need would be cowboys or some of the m`etis, who were handy men at anything.
They, however, would be busy with Riel and the pending rebellion.
Pembina--he must see what could be done there.
And there were a couple of men aboard the International who might be interested.
Devnet Molrone did not appear on deck, and Kyle Gavin seemed preoccupied.
Orrin walked along the upper deck, watching the shoreline and the river ahead, although rarely could they see the river for more than a few hundred yards, if that far.
Twice he saw deer, once a small herd of buffalo. He saw no Indians.
There were few passengers aboard. Three men and a woman bound for Pembina and a tall, lean young man for Fort Garry. There was also a portly, middle-aged man in a tweed suit.
'This Riel,' the latter said distastefully, 'who does he think he is? How dare he?
He's nothing but a bloody savage!' 'I understood he'd studied for the priesthood,' the young man protested, 'and worked for some paper in Montreal or somewhere.' 'Balderdash! The man's an aborigine!
Why, he's part Indian! Everybody knows that!' 'One-eighth,' the young man said.
'No matter. Who does he think he is?' 'From what I hear,' Orrin suggested mildly, 'he simply stepped in to provide a government where there was none.' 'Balderdash! The man's an egotistical fool! Well,' he said finally, 'no need to bother about him. The army will be here soon, and they'll hang him. Hang him, I say!' The young man looked over at Orrin and shrugged. After a bit, he walked forward with him.
'A man of definite opinions,' Orrin said mildly.
'I know little enough about Riel except some poetry of his that I've read. Not bad at all, not bad. But he seems a reasonable man.' 'If they give him time,' Orrin commented. 'It would seem some at least have already made up their minds.' 'You're headed west, I hear?' 'British Columbia, but first I've got to round up some cattle and find, if I can, the bodies of my brothers, who are said to have been killed in a stampede.' 'Dash it all! I am sorry! I heard something to that effect.' He glanced at Orrin.
'Going to the gold fields?' 'Eventually, if we get the cattle.' 'I would take it as a favor if you permitted me to come along.' 'You?' Orrin glanced at him. 'I will carry no excess baggage. If you come with me, you will work and be paid for it. You will ride, round up cattle and drive them, and if necessary, fight Indians.' 'I'm your man. It sounds like great fun.' 'It won't be. It is brutally hard work, and a good chance to be killed.' 'I understand Miss Molrone is going with you?' So that was it? 'She may change her mind. Right now she is headed for Carlton House and may go no further. If it is she whom you're interested in, I would suggest you go to Carlton House.' Pembina would soon be showing up around a bend.
Once there, he could begin recruiting, but instead of the two men he had hoped to get, now he would need at least four and preferably more. This young man--what was his name? He might prove to be just the man he needed.
Kyle Gavin came forward to stand beside him, watching the blunt bow part the river waters.
Huge elms hung over the river, extending limbs out from either side until they almost met above the river. Here and there along the banks were clumps of willow, some grown into trees of some size.
'Dev----, I mean Miss Molrone tells me you've had bad news? About your brothers, I mean?' 'Yes, the man called Cougar told me they were dead. That they had been killed. I'll believe that when I see it.' 'I am sorry! I must--well, I have to admit I heard the same story, but I just hadn't--I mean, I couldn't bring myself to tell you.' Orrin glanced at Gavin, his eyes cool.
'I prefer to know such things. The sooner the better.' 'You're still going west?' 'Why not? I still have a herd to deliver. Their death, if dead they are, changes nothing in that sense.' 'But your cattle are gone! Scattered to the winds, and probably many of them have been killed.
What can you do?' 'That we will see, Mr. Gavin. A cousin of mine is waiting for the delivery of those cattle.
He will not be disappointed.' Gavin stared at him in obvious disbelief.
'But you don't seem to understand! You're over two thousand miles from there! You have no cattle! You have nobody to help! The same Sioux who killed your brothers will be waiting for you, and further west there are Blackfeet! You don't have a chance!
'Even,' he added, 'if Riel does not requisition your carts and supplies. And if he does not demand them, the army certainly will. Such things are in short supply.' 'We will manage.' Suddenly, there was a blast from the whistle.
Orrin Sackett turned, pulling his hat brim down.
Pembina was just ahead.
Chapter XI
Pembina had little to offer. A customhouse, a trade store, and a scattering of cabins. The oldest settlement around, its fortunes had varied with travel and the fur trade, but now Fort Garry and the village of Winnipeg were attracting settlers that might otherwise have been drawn to Pembina.
Orrin Sackett wasted no time, for the International would be there for but a short stay. He walked up to the trading post and looked around quickly.
Only a few men were present, at least two of whom he immediately catalogued as drunks. He started to turn away when he stopped and looked again at the man at the end of the bar. He had his hat pushed back, and an impudent grin touched his lips.
'Howdy!' he said. 'You all still rustlin' for men?' 'How are you, Shorty? Yes, I am.' He paused. 'You travel fast.' 'It's a mighty poor horse that ain't faster'n that steamboat, what with all the curves in that river. I beat you by a whole day.' Shorty emptied his glass. 'Word gets around that you won't be needin' any hands. They say your cattle were stampeded and your brothers killed. They say you're wiped out.' Orrin pushed his hat back. He glanced at the bartender. 'A beer,' he said, 'and give Shorty whatever he's drinking.' He waited for the beer, took a swallow, and then said, 'I never seen a herd so scattered that a man couldn't round up some of them, and as for Tell and Tyrel, they don't kill very easy. I've seen 'em shot at, I've seen 'em wounded, I've seen them days without food or water, and somehow they always came through.
'Regardless, we gave our word to deliver cattle, and deliver them I will if I have to round up a herd of buffalo and drive them through.
'I've got just one man, Shorty, an' old cart driver named Baptiste. We've got two cartloads of grub an' gear, and I'm rustling for men and horses.
'Out west there, they've got some mighty mean Sioux, some meaner Blackfeet, and some grizzlies that will stand higher than a horse and heavier than a bull. They've got mountains where nobody ever drove a cow critter before, and there may be some men along the trail who'd like to stop us. What d'you say?' 'Sounds like my kind of a deal.' Shorty tossed off his drink. 'Finish your beer. I know a man who's got some horses.' Two hours later, Orrin owned six new horses. Shorty stood back and watched him, an amused smile on his face. Orrin passed by dozens of horses to choose the six he finally bought.
'You done yourself proud,' Shorty said. 'You got yourself six of the best. But you get to roundin' up stock on the plains, and six horses won't last even two men no time at all.' 'We'll have more. What I need right now is men.' 'Tough. Usually, you could find all you wanted.
These m`etis ain't cowpunchers by a long shot, but they can ride, and they can shoot, and you find quite a few who are fair hands with a rope. And they're workers, every durned one of them.' The steamboat whistled. 'Shorty? You want to meet me in Fort Garry with these horses?' 'Surest thing you know. But you watch your step.
