of Matt Bodine and Sam Two Wolves?”
“You were mixed up in that Joshua Shade business a while back,” Stovepipe added. “Reckon that varmint might not have ended up at the end of a hangrope where he belonged if not for you two fellas.”
“Where is Bodine?” Wilbur asked. “He’s not dead, is he?”
“Not that I know of,” Sam said. “But he was wounded, and I had to leave him with somebody while I went looking for the men who bushwhacked us. I think that’s tied in with those rifles you told me about.”
“So where’s Bodine now?”
“With some Navajo about a day’s ride northwest of here.”
Stovepipe and Wilbur looked at each other again.
“You better tell us the rest of it,” Stovepipe said.
For the next five minutes, Sam did so, explaining how someone had opened fire on him and Matt, wounding Matt and leading to them being discovered by Caballo Rojo, Juan Pablo, and the rest of the Navajo.
“I think the bushwhackers must have tried to kill us because we came along just as they were about to deliver those rifles to someone,” he said. He told Stovepipe and Wilbur about the marks he had found on the ground at the base of the bluff. “Those were definitely wagon tracks I saw, and they looked like it was heavily loaded. And a crate full of Springfields would have left an impression on the ground like that, too.”
Sam grunted and shook his head.
“And I thought at first that it was a coffin.”
“Not a coffin,” Stovepipe said, “but in the wrong hands, what was in it sure might fill a bunch of ’em.”
“I backtracked the bunch to Flat Rock,” Sam went on. “I think they must’ve gotten spooked and postponed the deal. They probably have the rifles hidden somewhere close to the settlement. The boss, whoever he is, put guards on the trail outside town to see if anybody followed them. When I did, they tried to kill me again.”
“And they trailed you out here today and tried again, more’n likely,” Stovepipe said.
“And why did
“Just keepin’ an eye on you,” Stovepipe said. “To tell you the truth, we sorta thought you might attract trouble like a magnet, given your reputation for gettin’ mixed up in things.”
“And we weren’t completely convinced you weren’t mixed up somehow with the gang we’re lookin’ for,” Wilbur added.
Stovepipe winced.
“Now, you didn’t have to go and tell him that.”
“Just like you didn’t have to tell Lady Augusta that I like her,” Wilbur shot back.
Sam said, “So when somebody tried to kill me, that convinced you that I wasn’t one of the gang?”
“Didn’t figure they’d be shootin’ at you if you was one of ’em,” Stovepipe said.
Wilbur nodded at his companion.
“That’s what he said. If I had as many thoughts crammed into my head as Stovepipe does, I swear I’d go plumb crazy. That’s why I mostly let him do the figurin’ .”
“And what I’m studyin’ on now,” Stovepipe said, “is what brought you out here today, Sam. The hombres out at the Devil’s Pitchfork don’t cotton much to strangers.”
“Especially ones with Indian blood,” Sam said. “I know. But I got curious about those cattle that were stolen from out here. Boyd and Lowry blamed the rustling on the Navajo, but that just doesn’t seem right to me. Caballo Rojo and his people are the closest ones to the settlement, and I spent enough time with them to know they wouldn’t do such a thing.”
“Most of ’em probably wouldn’t,” Stovepipe agreed. “But all it takes is a handful who take after Manuelito.”
Sam shrugged.
“Maybe. But the whole idea is to increase the tension between the white settlers and the Navajo until a shooting war is inevitable. The men behind it are even going to give the Navajo those rifles to make it unavoidable. Right?”
“That’s the way it looks to me,” Stovepipe replied with a nod.
“So rustling cattle and making it look like the Navajo are responsible would just up the stakes.”
“He’s right, Stovepipe,” Wilbur said. “I reckon he’s about as good a detective as you are.”
“I never claimed to be no genius. What you say makes sense, Sam. The same bunch is playin’ the settlers and the Indians against each other to set up a land grab.” Stovepipe rubbed his beard-stubbled chin. “Question is, what are we gonna do about it?”
“The first step is to find out who they are,” Sam said. “Maybe if we track those stolen cows that will tell us something.”
“It sure might.” Stovepipe inclined his head toward his horse. “All right if we mount up again? We’ve all decided to trust each other?”
Sam slid his Winchester back in the saddleboot.
“I think so. And we’ll come closer getting to the bottom of this if we work together.”
Stovepipe nodded and said, “Sounds good to me.”
