Chapter 23

Bennet heard the cattle before he saw them, and stopped his horse. It was late evening, but there would probably be light for another hour or so. It was plenty of time to have a quiet little look-see around.

He knew his horse would stand where it was if he dropped the reins, and stay there until he either came back, or whistled for it. He was already dressed in his range clothes, and could pass for a cowboy, if he needed to. His spectacles might get some looks, but it wasn't unheard of for a cowboy to wear them.

He was puzzled that he could hear cows so clearly, but not see them. Normally it was the other way around. You saw them a mile off, in this kind of terrain. He walked forward slowly. The rim of the depression announced itself when he found he could look down through the tall grass, and he got down on his hands and knees to crawl forward, ending up on his belly and parting the grass with his hands.

It was a sweet setup. The pond, fed by a stream from the look of the line of trees on both sides, gave them water. The house was sod, which he knew to be almost indestructible, even in a tornado. There was a wisp of smoke coming from the chimney. He looked at the more recent construction and guessed correctly that it was a stable, even though there were two horses outside of it, grazing on the grass between the house and pond. He could see one saddle in the stable, rigged with a lariat, suggesting it was a cowboy's rig.

The herd, such as it was, was mostly stationary, so he was able to get a rough count. A hundred and thirty head was what he came up with. That was too few to be cattle he was looking for. On the other hand, if the rustled herd had been broken up into smaller groups this could be part of it. It was a beautiful place to hide cows, though it wouldn't hold many more than were already in it. Who'd have thought there was a dip this deep when everything around it was normal prairie?

He couldn't see the brands from this distance, and couldn't see any people either. That little house wouldn't hold many. He waited. He didn't want to move until he was sure they didn't have guards. He doubted there were outriders. The cattle seemed happy staying where they were.

Over the next hour, as the light faded to night, he saw only one person leave the house. It was a girl, based on the dress she was wearing and her long locks. She carried a bucket to his left, to the tip of the pond, scooped up water and then returned to the house.

Feeling the bumps under his body, and realizing that they were causing pain he'd ignored until now, he elected to proceed with his investigation. It didn't look like there were any guards out.

He returned to his horse and circled around, so he'd come in from the west, where the girl had gotten water. His plan was to act the part of a drover who'd finished a drive and was now out of work.

He didn't try to be quiet any longer, but the grass muffled the sound of his horse's hooves. It blew as it went downhill, and the two horses he'd seen in the dip whinnied in welcome.

"Hello the house!" he called out, laying his hand on his pistol.

He was reassured when the door opened and a man, holding nothing in his hands appeared.

"Who's there?" came the man's voice.

"I'm Billy Bennet, lately of the Circle Z ranch, down Texas way. We delivered a herd to Abilene a few days ago. Was riding by and heard your cows," said Bennet. "I'm lookin' fer a job."

A woman appeared beside the man in the flickering light of what looked like a fire. The two spoke softly for a few seconds.

"Can't offer you a job," said the man, "but you're welcome to a bowl of stew."

Bennet moved his horse forward, taking his hand off his pistol.

"I appreciate that," he said. "My belly's plumb empty."

There was tension in the house when Bennet walked in. He had to duck, because the ceiling beams were low enough to brush his hat. He looked around the part of the house he could see. There was an old oil cloth hanging from the ceiling that obstructed his view into about a third of the space. He wondered if there was a man behind the oilcloth with a gun, waiting to see what he'd do.

Of the four people visible, three were young folks and what he now saw was an older woman. Nobody was holding weapons. These were obviously the squatters he'd heard of. That nattering biddy at the general store had been convinced that this older boy was not the woman's son. He was the one who'd invited the stranger down off his horse, offering normal frontier hospitality. That fit with the storekeeper's wife saying he was a cowboy. The other boy and girl were standing a few feet away, obviously standing together, based on how close they were to each other. They must be the woman's children. Most of the nervous feel in the room seemed to be coming from them. The question was, where was the woman's man?

"I appreciate this," he said again, taking off his hat and accepting a bowl and spoon from the woman. The bowl was heaped with thick chunks of something that smelled good. He took a bite quickly, like a hungry man might do, chewed and then spoke.

"This is right good, Ma'am. I got paid off after the drive, but I sort of got a weakness for whiskey and a pretty woman and ... well ... I'm flat broke. I was hopin' you might could use some help with your herd."

He saw the older woman stiffen at his use of the word "whiskey," but that wasn't so odd. Lots of women had no use for the devil's drink. He ate more stew, which was delicious and full of chunks of meat.

Though he presumed it was the woman who was in charge here, it was the young cowboy who spoke.

"We're just building a herd," he said. "Gathering strays from cattle drives like the one you were on. Doing some farming too, or trying. We ain't been here long. It would be nice to have another hand, but we got no cash money to pay anybody with."

Bennet nodded, though this raised more questions in his mind. This young man acted like he was part of the family. He had the look, close up, that suggested he was an experienced hand. He was bowlegged from being in the saddle a lot. That went with the saddle Bennet had seen. But where did the woman come from? He could see a cowboy getting the idea to gather strays, but the farming angle didn't fit. Nor did the woman. Why would a woman throw in with a boy young enough to be her son, if he was judging ages rightly?

He thought again about the possibility that this was part of the rustled herd, split up to make it easier to deal with the numbers. Maybe one of the rustlers had died somehow. Might not his wife demand to take over his share? Might she not then be tempted to throw in with one of the other men? He'd seen stranger liaisons before. It was all interesting enough that he decided to try to stay around a while, and learn more.

He let out a theatrical belch and smacked his lips. "Pardon me, Ma'am." He grinned a brainless smile. "This here is some mighty good vittles." He looked at the cowboy then. "'Course I wouldn't expect no pay until you sell the herd. But if you're building it by gathering strays, I s'pect another hand would make that go a lot quicker. Iff'n you're gonna make a drive this year, you ain't got a lot of time left to get it done, and another man would make the drive go a lot smoother. Be a shame to lose some of them strays after you went to all the work to find 'em."

Bennett's thinking was that, if this small group of people were part of a larger organization, they'd turn him down flat. At the least they'd have to get permission from higher ups to bring somebody else into the camp. If that happened, he'd just have to do his surveillance from afar. He scooped up the rest of the stew and cleaned his bowl with his fingers while he waited to see what they'd do.

He was surprised when they talked about it.

"What are we going to do with the cattle you've found?" asked the woman.

"I had thought to take them to Wichita," said the cowboy. "I talked to a man there who buys small herds. But this late in the season he won't give premium pay, even though our cows are nice and fat. We'd get better money for them in Abilene, but..."

The woman stiffened again. "It's too far," she said, looking worried.

Bennet thought that was a singularly odd thing for her to say. Abilene was only a week away, from what he'd heard. And the cowboy obviously didn't want to go to Abilene either. Maybe because the brands in "their herd" would be recognized?

"We can keep them over the winter," said the young man, "but we'll have to gather in a lot of hay to get them through the snows. On the other hand, an early drive next spring could get us even better money."

"Yes," thought Bennet, "when those brands won't be as fresh in the minds of the buyers."

The woman thought for a minute, and then said something that made Bennett's suspicions flare brightly.

"What if you drove them to Abilene and he sold the herd?" she asked.

The cowboy blinked, then looked disgusted and shot a look at Bennet, who looked down quickly, as if he wasn't paying attention. He scraped another finger along the rim of his empty bowl and then sucked it clean.

"I'm sorry," said the woman, clearly flustered. "It was just an idea."

The cowboy ignored her. Bennet realized he hadn't looked down quickly enough, because the cowboy spoke directly to him.

"I helped take a herd to Abilene too, earlier in the year. Got in a little likkered up myself. They got a sheriff up there who said he don't want to see me again real soon. Maybe he don't want to see you either?"

Bennet knew it was a lie. He could just feel it. He decided to stay in the game, instead of fold.

"I didn't get in no trouble," he drawled. "I just spent all my pay."

Bennett's thoughts evolved. What if this little group had split from the rustlers? There was no honor among thieves. Maybe he'd found this place, gotten the idea to drive off what he could of the rustled herd, and was hiding from the rest of the gang? He'd definitely want to stay clear of being seen selling the cattle. Bennet kept the pressure up.

"Ma'am," he said smiling widely. "For a chance to eat vittles like this regular, it don't matter a whit to me whether I move cows in two weeks or four months. I can cut hay. But I seen a few steers wandering around on my way here too. I didn't pay no attention to them, but I never thought about trying to gather them all up like you folks are doin'. There's more cows out there to be found, and still time to drive them to a buyer this year if we put our mind to it."

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