A hour or so after leavin’ Arredonda we begun comin’ acrost some open country in amongst the stands of hardwood an’ low hammock land. Monk allowed as how we’d ought to be skirtin’ the west edge of Alachua Lake about then. And after the road curved to the left a mite, he told me we was startin’ to pass through a narrow stretch of ground with that piece of water on our left and Levy Lake to our right.
There was mostly low, sandy hills hereabouts, with open patches where cattle grazed in between the groves of live oak an’ thick growed-up woods. Ever now an’ again we seen a pole corral or a dark cabin, but without no way to tell from a distance whether folks was livin’ there or the place had been abandoned long years before.
It was maybe nine or ten o’clock by then, and the moon was climbin’ higher. Once in a while we’d come out from the trees or top a little rise, and be able to see almost a mile of open country before us.
The second or third time we done that, Monk Drucker whispered to his mules and all of a sudden drawed back on the reins. I followed his pointin’ finger to a little stand of live oaks away off on our right, where the ground rose up before slopin’ off towards what I figured must be the lake, although we couldn’t see it from where we was. If you squinted up your eyes and looked real close, you could just make out this faint orange an’ yellow glow next to the trunk of one of the furthest trees.
Neither one of us said nothin’ for a minute. Then Monk turned his head towards me and whispered, “Well? What do you think?” When I didn’t answer right away, he went on. “There’s no cabin up there. And it appears to be a man-made light of some kind. Maybe it’s the camp of those three we’ve been following.”
“Maybe.” I kept my voice low whilst I studied them trees in the distance. “Or maybe not. Could be just some local feller doin’ a little night fishin’.”
I hesitated before addin’, “Or cookin’ shine. In which case he’d prob’ly appreciate not bein’ interrupted.”
“Well, there’s only one way I know to find out.” Seemed like Monk was startin’ to get a mite impatient with me. “Are we going to have a look-see, or not?”
“We?”
I glanced at him, and the little bald-headed gent shrugged.
“In for a penny, in for a pound I always say. We’ve traveled far enough together that I guess we might think of ourselves as partners now. And I’ve got a special dislike for thieves in any case. Having the chance to administer a little justice would give me a feeling of personal pleasure.”
Monk took his shotgun from underneath the seat and made a move like he meant to climb down. Then he stopped and looked back over his shoulder. “That is, unless you’d rather tackle this job all by yourself?”
“Hell,” I said, still keepin’ my voice quiet as I threw a leg over and started easin’ myself to the ground. “Come on along and welcome, if you’re of the mind. It ain’t no part of my nature to keep any man from his pleasures.”
Tell the truth, I was glad to have somebody along for company at the moment. Leastways a man what been up the river and over the mountain like they say, and who could handle hisself the way this Monk appeared to do.
’T weren’t that I didn’t reckon I could of took on them three by myself if the need was there. But I figured it didn’t hurt my chances any to have this gent with his sawed-off shotgun watchin’ over my backside as I made my way up to them owlhoots’ camp. I’d already learnt what brand of cold, hard customers they could be, with that Lila prob’ly the hardest an’ coldest of ’em all.
It wouldn’t of surprised me a bit if she’d arranged to keep one of ’em on watch through the night, purely as a matter of caution. Even though far as I could tell she’d no way of guessin’ that I or anybody else was on their back trail.
When Monk got done tyin’ his mules to a scrub cedar, we moved off a little ways into the shadow of some pines and had us a low-voiced council of war. That infernal rig of his didn’t travel near quiet enough for me to feel confident about us reachin’ this place without somebody takin’ notice of our approach, even if they had to wake up from a sound sleep in order to do it.
It was a good half mile to where that light was showin’, and the woods all round behind us ought to keep anybody from seein’ the wagon’s outline against the sky. But if they was payin’ attention to sounds in the night, they’d sure as shootin’ know something was out here, without maybe guessin’ exactly what it was. What we needed was some kind of a scheme to sneak up closer and have a look, while not stumblin’ into some welcoming committee that was all primed an’ loaded to meet us.
The idea I’d got in mind was to make my way on down the road afoot for a good fair distance, then face about and Injun up on the camp — or whatever it happened to be — from beyond in the opposite direction. If it turned out they was expectin’ visitors, that was the last place they’d think of to look for ’em, and it might give me a chance to get the jump on the entire party.
In the meantime I suggested to Monk that he follow along this here tree-line so’s to get hisself as near as possible to that light on this side without bein’ noticed. He could make up his own mind then about whether it was safe to sneak any closer acrost the open space between ’em. In any case he was to come on the run from wherever he was, just soon’s he heard me start to make my play.
Monk seemed agreeable enough, and from his manner I’d a idea he was the kind of gent who could handle a job like that without gettin’ flustered. And without takin’ no foolish chances what could turn out with either or both of us bein’ shot full of holes.
When I’d checked the action on that Smith an’ Wesson again, I slid a shell out of the cartridge belt to load the empty chamber under the hammer before droppin’ her back in the holster. As a general rule, havin’ that one less shot is a heap safer than havin’ some kind of a accident from a buckin’ bronc or a unplanned tumble on the ground. But I weren’t carryin’ no extra weapons with me this time, and I seen a altercation or two when all six shots from a six-shooter didn’t hardly appear to be enough.
Monk Drucker touched the brim of his high-hat in salute before we separated. And I started back down towards the road with a partin’ wave.
It was high grass all around hereabouts, ’cept where the road served to part it a mite. And since the cool of the evening had set in, that grass was wet with dew. I didn’t much appreciate gettin’ my clothes all damp, and covered with stickers to boot, from snakin’ through that thick growed-up prairie — sometimes on my hands an’ knees and now an’ again on my belly. But I favored the notion of a bullet between my shoulder blades a whole heap less, so I done what was needful. Took my time at it too, so’s to make as little sound an’ show of my passin’ as possible.
It must of been the better part of a hour before I reached the woods on the other side of that stand of live oaks where we’d seen the light. And then it took a while longer to ease myself up through the trees an’ brush towards a place where I could have a tol’able view of the surroundings.
I had to hope my new-found partner weren’t startin’ to get too impatient by now. Although there wasn’t much help for it if he was. I was a right cautious man when it come to any game where my hide was part of the stakes, and I meant to stay that way. From all appearances, Monk Drucker was a gent who could understand that kind of thinkin’.
When I’d finally got myself up to maybe thirty, forty yards off from what was left of the campfire, I could see pretty good that that was exactly what it was. Only a couple red coals was showin’ now, with ever onct in awhile a little yellow lick of flame from some scrap of bark or pitch what hadn’t burned itself out entire yet.
I