Ghosts of the Green Swamp. Lee Gramling. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Lee Gramling
Издательство: Ingram
Серия: Cracker Western
Жанр произведения: Вестерны
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9781561645503
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I didn’t figure the whippin’ and the robbin’ I’d got took much over half a hour afterwards. By the time I’d passed by the store at Old Leno and started makin’ my way south ’crost the Natural Bridge of the Santa Fe River, the sun had climbed up to where it was pretty near direct overhead.

      I was some grateful for the coolness of the deep woods all around me ’bout then, ’cause that late September sun was hot enough to make the sweat run down into the cuts an’ hurts ole Jube had put on my face, which didn’t give me much pleasure a-tall. And Lila hadn’t even left me with a kerchief in my pockets to sop up the worst of it with.

      The hills an’ ravines northwest of Newnansville was beginnin’ to get my feets’ attention too before long. I’d already covered maybe six, seven miles by the time I reached ’em, and those western boots I wore wasn’t exactly made with walkin’ comfort in mind. My earlier thoughts about achin’ corns was startin’ to take on a more realistic meaning as I imagined them blisters on my toes an’ heels beginnin’ to grow larger with ever step.

      Weren’t much I could do about it though, since I’d a mind to keep close an’ steady on those bushwhackers’ trail as long as I was able. You never could tell when it might cloud up to rain in this Florida land, which would wash out their tracks completely.

      I might of took off my boots and gone barefoot. But seemed like ever time I’d a thought about doin’ that, I’d come acrost a big patch of sandspurs or poison ivy or somethin’ else along the road, like a fresh snake trail windin’ through the sand, which just had a tendency to change my mind.

      I managed to keep from dwellin’ on my present miseries so much by lettin’ my thoughts roam back over what-all was said an’ done there amongst Purv and Lila an’ Jube after they’d jumped me — things I might not of paid real close attention to the first time around. I knew pert’ near anything I could recall would be a help in runnin’ ’em to earth, ’cause it trackin’ ain’t so much a matter of readin’ sign on the ground, as it’s knowin’ where to look for the sign in the first place. And that means understandin’ the ways of whatever critter it is you’re huntin’, be it animal or bird or human.

      Some of that talk back yonder I couldn’t hardly make no sense of. Like how come Purv had called me “Barkley” right off when he seen me, and what Barkley he thought I was that I turned out not to be. It ain’t a uncommon name, I reckon. But I didn’t know of no others in this Florida country my ownself. My folks been dead quite a number of years now, and the only brother I had took off from home pretty soon after Pap was killed back in ’63. Last time I heard from him was just after the war, when he was on his way to California with a deck of cards, a fast horse, and high hopes.

      Anyhow, it seemed like that Barkley feller they’d mistook me for was somebody they knowed right well once upon a time — leastways Lila had — and they wanted him back mighty serious now, wherever they come from. What was it Purv had said? ’Bout leadin’ ’em a merry chase for more’n a hundred miles? I thought that over whilst I stopped by the side of the road and pulled out my shirt-tail to try dabbin’ the sweat away from my eyes with it.

      Tell you the truth, I didn’t know my way about the central an’ south part of this Florida peninsula worth a hoot, for all that I was born an’ brought up in Taylor County and spent my first eighteen years of livin’ in the state. That cow hunt down to Otter Creek a couple weeks ago was the furthest south I reckon I’d ever been. Right now I was tryin’ to picture the rest of it in my mind, from travelers’ talk and a occasional peek at a map in some general store or railroad depot here an’ there.

      ’Peared to me a hundred mile ought to put the place them three started out from somewheres north of Tampa Bay on the west coast, or between Mosquito Inlet and Cape Canaveral in the east. That still left a heap of country to go huntin’ round in if I happened to lose sight of their tracks. But it could of been worse. I reckoned it was near four hundred miles from where I stood right now to Cape Sable at the farthest end of the state.

      Purv’s earlier words to Jube about takin’ me home to the “hammock” didn’t mean a thing of course, ’cept their place was more’n likely somewheres back up in the woods. They was more high hammocks an’ low hammocks than you could shake a stick at, all the way from the St. Marys River to the Florida Keys.

      After mullin’ things over a mite longer whilst I tucked in my shirt and started makin’ tracks again, I couldn’t think of nothin’ else that was said what would be any special use to me. Lila’s remark about her uncle Ravenant’s “rules,” an’ the fact they’d somethin’ to do with not takin’ nobody along what had friends or kin anywhere about, was enough to stir up a feller’s curiosity. But without a heap more knowledge than what I’d got at the moment, I couldn’t begin to make head nor tails of it.

      ’Peared like the best thing right now was to not waste no more time worryin’ about all them questions I didn’t have answers to, but to start lookin’ for ways to solve the problems which was closer at hand. Like what I meant to do when and if I managed to catch up to Lila an’ Purv an’ big Jube.

      I could see from the way they was travelin’ south, keepin’ up a steady pace without pushin’ their mounts no more’n they had to, that they wasn’t too concerned about bein’ followed. Which didn’t surprise me, considerin’ they figured I was dead and there weren’t no witnesses to explain how it happened.

      Oh, maybe there’d of been a embarrassin’ question or two asked if they’d been real close at hand when the body was found. But it was mighty doubtful anybody’d believe a woman as young an’ pretty and lady-lookin’ as that Lila could of had somethin’ to do with it. Womenfolks was right highly thought of hereabouts, and killin’ strangers in cold blood weren’t hardly no part of people’s expectations of ’em.

      Which sort of got me to ponderin’ even more serious on what I’d do if I come across them three all to onct like I’d had in mind. Plannin’ ahead ain’t one of my long suits. I always been more the type to just cinch up my belt and walk in a-swingin’. But they was a couple good reasons now for doin’ a tad more calculatin’ than was generally my custom.

      First o’ course, was the fact that they’d got a couple pistols, a shotgun, and my Winchester repeater, along with maybe some other hardware I might not of took inventory of in the earlier excitement. And I hadn’t got a solitary thing but the clothes on my back and my two bare hands. Which hadn’t done me a awful lot of good earlier, against just Jube by his lonesome.

      So under the circumstances, it might be a deal more healthy if I was to set eyes on them three before they seen me, instead of the other way around. And right then I realized that the way I’d been stompin’ up the road like a ole bull through a thicket, without a bit more sense or caution than that dumb critter, was liable to get me kilt before I could do even the first thing towards gettin’ any of my goods back.

      I’d spent enough time out west in Indian country to know better from the git-go. But I’d been so all-fired mad about the trouble an’ the hurts I’d got, which done a sight more damage to my pride than my body if I was to be truthful about it, that for a couple hours I’d sort of forgot to take time off from my stewin’ to do any thinking.

      Well, it weren’t too late to make a change, fortunately.

      I stepped over to the side of the road and took in a deep breath, lettin’ myself settle down a mite and have a good long listen, whilst I studied the territory ahead and behind me. I reckoned my need to catch up to them three wasn’t so pressin’ that I couldn’t manage to start tryin’ to use my noggin in the process. And maybe even come up with some kind of a plan for what I meant to do once I did run into ’em.

      They was thick woods all around where I’d stopped, with hills and ravines what kept the road from goin’ straight even a hundred yards before it disappeared round a curve or up a rise or into some li’l draw. Could be it was that layout which sort of jogged my brain back to workin’ in the first place. ’Cause if I was lookin’ for a spot to ambush some unwary traveler, I sure couldn’t do no better than this right here.

      But