He and Starking took stock of each other, matching what they’d heard against what they saw.
The cold eyes gave way to a colder voice. “Speak your piece.”
So much for cordial introductions.
He looked around the circle of faces, feeling like red meat in a wolf den. If he didn’t make this good, he’d have about as much chance.
“Mr. Starking, my name is John Trent. I’m sure the riff-raff behind you have told you of me. Assuming that’s true, you should know I wouldn’t ride in here without good reason. We need to talk. I think we can avoid a lot of needless bloodshed, and come to terms that would help us both. If you’re willing to listen.”
Starking still hadn’t looked anywhere but at Trent’s eyes. “And why should I?”
He lifted his rifle, causing a hasty stir behind Starking, and then shoved it into the boot on the saddle. Pushing his hat onto the back of his head, he hooked one knee around the saddle horn and gestured to the people around him. “The word is, you want to take Big Springs and make homes for these people. I can sympathize with that. Your people trust you, and I can see you care for their welfare. The problem is, though, sir… Big Springs is already settled.”
Starking nodded. “A few hill-people are there, I understand.”
Sudden comprehension made him nod. “Have you seen it, Mr. Starking?”
The man folded his arms and widened his stance. “Reeves told me about it.”
He pinned the man standing behind Starking with a penetrating gaze and spoke slowly. “Then you’ve been lied to.” The crowd stirred at this, muttering and shifting their feet in the grass.
Reeves started to speak, but Starking raised his hand to silence him. “Your story is different?”
He turned a little so he could see more people, especially the men and women with small children. “Big Springs has as many people as you do, maybe more. There are families there, just like here. They have a church and a preacher. They have a store that deals in trading, and two gristmills for grinding grain and sawing lumber. There’s a ranch nearby that’s busy rounding up cattle, and there are enough of those to keep a good many people fat for years. Most important of all, the water at the Springs is clear and clean. The people of Big Springs will fight to keep what they have.”
Starking turned back from staring at Reeves. He didn’t look happy. “What’s your part in this?”
“The Army sent me here to keep the peace, any way I can. I’m supposed to keep the lid on until they can come to the area in force. And they will come. You know what will happen then. The Army’s rule is that raiders are shot on sight. I have a better idea.”
Starking and his lieutenants bristled at the last statement, some of his men laying hands on their guns.
Reeves pulled his weapon, and said, “If you—”
A voice from the crowd interrupted. “Let’s hear him out.”
Starking called for quiet. “Go ahead, Trent.”
“If you try to take Big Springs by force, you’ll lose good men trying to take the place, and so will they. It’s a natural fortress, and there aren’t many ways to get at it. Thing is, you don’t need to fight for it. I don’t see you folks as raiders, although I can see signs you’re headed that way. You just need a place to live. There’s plenty of room at the Springs and the surrounding area. If you come peaceful, that is. I’ll talk to people and let them know about you. The most important thing is to keep the peace. If people start showing up dead, the deal will be off.”
“We get along all right by ourselves.”
“Really?” He looked around the circle of faces. “Where are your hunters, Mr. Starking? The forest is full of deer and boar, and the flatlands have cattle running free. I don’t see much but rabbits and squirrels in your cooking pots. I see running sores on your children, and they wear rags for clothes. Personally, I don’t think you are doing so well. Know why? Someone has all your best men trying to push honest people off their land, when they should be putting meat in the pot.” The last comment he directed at Reeves, who didn’t speak, just raked his hot gaze over Trent.
Starking nodded his head. “I’m told the country around us is hunted out and that we need to move soon.”
He shrugged. “Another lie. I had several chances at deer, just riding down the trail.”
Reeves, sensing that Starking was starting to listen to Trent, went stomping to his horse. “I’m taking my men with me, Starking, and we’ll take care of Big Springs. I can see you don’t need us anymore.”
Starking’s voice thundered at them. “Your men? Maybe we’d be better off without you or your men. Hear this. Whoever quits me and goes with you had better not cross paths with me again. I won’t tolerate that kind of loyalty.”
Most of the men stayed, while Reeves and a few of his followers left.
Starking turned back to him. “Light and set, Marshal. It seems we’ve a lot to discuss. By the way, we have one of your Green Jeans in here. He’s in a bad way.”
Walking into the tent, the smell of rotting flesh assailed his nose.
“Not much we could do for him. He’s gut shot.” Starking shrugged and stepped away. Thinking of Gunny, he pulled the blanket away from the man’s face.
Lieutenant Spencer.
“We found him yesterday.” Starking was talking again. “I don’t know what’s keeping him alive.”
Lieutenant Spencer’s eyes fluttered open. Seeing Trent, he tried to speak.
“What happened?” He leaned close to the man’s face, trying to ignore the stench. “Ambush?”
The man nodded assent, finally giving up trying to speak. His breathing was ragged and shallow, fevered eyes holding Trent’s.
He thought for a moment. There weren’t a whole lot of different ways this could happen. “Raiders?”
At this, Spencer became agitated, and feebly shook his head. The effort was too much, and it left him staring with sightless eyes at the side of the tent.
“Guess we’ll never know.” Starking’s voice was non-committal.
He looked levelly at the man. “I’d be real disappointed to find out you had anything to do with this, Starking.”
Another voice cut into the semi-darkness of the tent. “Don’t get your feathers ruffled, Marshal.”
He turned to the entrance, recognizing the voice. It was Gran, the old matriarch from the village he had gone through.
“Do you know this woman?” Starking voiced his surprise.
“I know her.” He was smiling. “She kept me from getting shot awhile back.”
Starking spoke to the woman. “Well, I’m not sure you did the right thing. Today seems to be the day for stories. Let’s hear yours.”
Gran ignored the man, giving her attention to Trent. “We been scouting the hills, like you said to do. Keepin’ watch. We run onto that army patrol you was with, ‘cept they was headed the other direction. They’d been ambushed all right, but from the inside.” She paused to let this sink in. “Someone right in amongst them cut loose and shot them all. We buried all of them, except for this one.”
He tried to absorb his information. There were some in that patrol he wouldn’t trust, but would they be capable of doing something like that? He was missing something. What about Gunny?
Gran continued in her dry, low voice. “When we found that girl you looked at, Lon saw just a piece of a track. It came from a shoe with an odd stitch. Whoever did the shootin’ of the patrol, had that same track. We thought you’d want to know. Don’t know if it helps, much.”
He was lost in thought for a moment. “Did you bury a man with stripes on his sleeves, a sergeant?”
She shrugged, but he could tell he had her attention. “I don’t know what a sergeant’s stripes look like, Marshal.”