Nevada (1995) (41 page)

"I'll send my compliments to Cedar Hatt an' his boss in hell!"

Lacy strode into the level shady forest, leading his horse. He ha
d
prepared for this separation from Burridge, and had tied a ligh
t
pack behind his saddle. There was a spring in his step and a ligh
t
on his face. The deep forest land, beginning almost at once t
o
slope north from the Rim, seemed to receive and absorb Lacy as
a
transformed man. How sweet and enchanting the silence, th
e
solitude! He listened for the last ebb of that tide of hoofs
,
roaring down into the Basin. Gone! The air had cleared of th
e
dust, the heat, the din, the smell of a cattle drive.

It still wanted an hour to sunset, and the time was approaching th
e
most wonderful of all hours on the Mogollons. Birds and game ha
d
roused from the midday Indian-summer heat; the long black shadow
s
of the trees were slanting down across the open swales and dells
,
where the white grass furnished contrast to the reds and purple
s
and golds of the autumn leaves. The tracks of man and horse showe
d
dark through the thick covering of gold and green that carpeted th
e
ground.

Lacy descended winding ravines and aspen hollows until one opene
d
into the head of a canyon where the murmur of water invited him t
o
camp.

"Reckon you're plumb tired," he said to his horse, laying swif
t
hands on the ropes. "Wal, it was a day. But we're through now--
t
hrough with that kind of work. . . . An' I'm hatin' to hobbl
e
you, old boy."

Jim kindled a little fire, and while he heated water in his one po
t
he gathered ferns for bedding. The frost had seared the lon
g
leaves, making them brittle and easy to break off. He piled
a
great bundle in his blanket and carried it to the edge of an aspe
n
thicket, where, as was his habit, he made a bed under cover of th
e
foliage.

"I'll be cold as blazes along toward mawnin', but I cain't keep
a
fire goin' . . . not with that Indian Cedar Hatt roamin' th
e
woods!"

The sordid atmosphere common to the rustler gang was lacking here.

Lacy did not realize it until he grew conscious of his alacrity, o
f
his zest with the old camp tasks, in the pause to see and feel an
d
hear and smell the forest which seemed now his alone, in his habi
t
of talking to himself.

"Wal, now, won't there be hell around the Ide ranch some of thes
e
heah mawnin's, when riders come in with the news? Last of the Id
e
cattle! . . . Jim Lacy takin' to rustlin'. . . . It will b
e
funny. I'd like to be hid an' heah Ben cuss. This'll be the las
t
straw. He'll get as many gun-toters as he can hire, an' set out t
o
land me in jail."

Jim seemed immensely pleased with the thought. The hard, moros
e
intentness of the past weeks did not inhibit his natural geniality.

"Ben is shore goin' to get the shock of his life one of these hea
h
days," went on Jim. "The doggone old wild-hoss hunter! . . .

What's he goin' to say to me first off--an' then after? . . .

Lordy! . . . An' Hettie! . . . She'll call me a low-down yello
w
faithless . . . Say, meetin' her will be about as funny as dyin'.

I can feel myself cavin' in right heah!"

Jim Lacy, with his plans well in mind, had on the whole journe
y
across country from Elam Hatt's ranch to the head of the Maricop
a
trail, taken careful account of the lay of the land.

It served him now. His intention was to return to Hatt's ranch, i
f
possible without encountering even a sheepherder. Hatt had lef
t
his daughter Rose alone, unless the mysterious woman consort o
f
Henny or Tobe Hatt, of whom Jim had heard vaguely, might b
e
considered as company. Elam, of course, with his two sons, coul
d
be expected to get back home from the cattle drive in two days fro
m
the time Jim had left them, or even less. As for Cedar Hatt, wh
o
had deserted Burridge and Elam after the revelation of Stillwell'
s
death, no doubt he had rushed to the secret rendezvous of the Pin
e
Tree men, wherever that was, there to betray to them news of th
e
impending drive of the Ide stock. It was Cedar Hatt whom Lacy ha
d
greatest interest in, at the present stage of the game; and Ceda
r
was most likely to be found at or near home.

There was reason, too, for Lacy to have an interview with Ros
e
Hatt, from whom he expected to force more about the man wh
o
dominated her brother and whom she feared. Moreover, Rose was t
o
be considered on her own behalf.

Jim Lacy did not think it wise to go near Silver Meadows, where th
e
cattle had been collected for the great drive; and therefore h
e
made a wide detour, hoping to strike the trail he and the rustle
r
band had made coming from Hatt's ranch. But he had to go into cam
p
the second night of his journey without having come to this trail.

The forest was exceedingly rough, he had only a general directio
n
to go by, and often windfalls and impassable brakes threw him off.

On the third morning, however, he struck the trail he was lookin
g
for, and he back-tracked it all day. On the following day i
t
failed on high ridges, on hard ground, rocky flats, and pine-needl
e
mats, over which Elam Hatt had led the rustlers for the expres
s
purpose of hiding their tracks.

Lacy wasted no time trying to recover them, though he believed h
e
could eventually have done so. Sure of his direction now, h
e
pressed on rapidly, and the next afternoon struck the deep canyo
n
east of the one in which Hatt lived. During his sojourn with th
e
Hatts, Lacy had hunted turkey and deer up and down these brakes
,
with the sport of the hunt not at all his prime motive.

Jim took the precaution to ride well back from the Rim, peepin
g
over whenever opportunity offered from behind foliage or roc
k
covert. He did not really expect to see anyone, but that did no
t
influence his actions. Lacy was always cautious, watchful, alert;
a
nd in this instance he might have been on a scent, so instinctiv
e
was his progress along that Rim.

Presently, down in an open bend of the deep canyon Lacy caught
a
glimpse of a rider. He was riding slowly up the trail, leanin
g
down from his saddle, evidently with eyes on the ground.

"Trackin' somethin'," muttered Jim. "Now I wonder who that is an'
w
hat he's trackin'."

Lacy rode back away from the Rim, and urged his horse to a lope
,
careful to avoid rocks and brush. There were places where he ha
d
to go slowly, but in the main he covered a mile or more in shor
t
order, then again approached the Rim.

This time he dismounted and cautiously stole to a vantage-point
,
from which he could peer unseen. As luck would have it, there wa
s
an open grassy meadow, narrow and long, just beneath his position.

The canyon was five hundred feet deep at this point, green-walled
,
precipitous, and unsurmountable.

Lacy watched so long without seeing the rider that he believed h
e
had been too late to catch him crossing this open flat. But a
s
Lacy had about decided to hurry on again, the man emerged from th
e
lower end.

Horse and rider grew strangely familiar as they came nearer.

Lacy's iron nerves were not beyond a tiny burning thrill.

"Am I drunk or loco?" he muttered.

On the rider came, his horse at a trot, and still he bent over t
o
one side, studying tracks in the trail. He would have had a
n
ominous look to any experienced eye. This rider was not tracking
a
lost horse or deer or turkey. He was a manhunter.

"CEDAR HATT!" whispered Lacy, his head lowering with the motion o
f
a striking eagle. "Talk about luck! I'm shore smothered wit
h
it. . . . Jim Lacy's luck! . . . But bad for you, Cedar--yo
u
treacherous soul!"

Lacy watched the man with a strained, piercing gaze, as if it wer
e
possible to divine his motive.

"This might be the trail Marvie Blaine rides when he comes to mee
t
Rose," soliloquized Jim, ponderingly. "Shore it is. She said th
e
brake east of where she lived."

Cedar Hatt rode on, directly under Jim's position, and once h
e
halted his horse, to lean far down from his saddle. How like a
n
Indian! Then he swung up again to peer ahead, as if calculating o
n
something. He made a dark wild figure, suiting his ragged hors
e
and the background of tangled brush and rugged wall. Then he rod
e
on, more slowly.

"By God!" burst out Lacy. "That hombre is sure trackin' Marvi
e
Blaine!"

Lacy crawled back from the Rim, then rose to run for his horse. H
e
would head off this rustler. Luckily, the lower part of the canyo
n
was miles below the locality where Rose was in the habit of meetin
g
young Blaine. Lacy had time to get ahead and find a place where h
e
could descend to the floor of the canyon. Working still farthe
r
back from the Rim, he put his horse to a gallop and made a har
d
fast ride for several miles. Then he slowed down and headed fo
r
the Rim again. No break in sight where he might descend! The wal
l
grew more precipitous and higher. Lacy rode on, close to the Ri
m
now, risking detection in his search for a descent. But he had n
o
concern that Cedar Hatt might be the one to espy him.

At length Lacy came upon an interesting canyon, a narrow crac
k
which ran off into the woods. He rode back to where it headed i
n
one of the thickest ravines, so common to the country. H
e
descended as far as possible, then dismounting, he tied his hors
e
and hurried on. This gorge deepened into a split between topplin
g
walls, so rough that there was not even a deer trail. But Lacy
,
sparing no effort, traversed it, to reach the main canyon hot an
d
bruised and out of breath.

Under cover of the oak thicket that lined the slope from the wal
l
he rested a few moments, listening like a pursued deer. Only th
e
distant murmur of a stream, a dreamy hum, and the moan of wind u
p
on the timbered ruins came to his ears.

"Reckon I'll slip down to the trail an' hold Cedar up," soliloquize
d
Jim. "But I'd shore like to know what he's aboot."

The east side of the canyon was a gentle slope, covered with whit
e
grass, brown ferns, and low pines and oaks, affording perfect cove
r
for anyone hiding. Lacy worked gradually down toward the level o
f
the canyon. He did not snap twigs, or scrape brush, or make an
y
sound. At each little opening he peered out before advancing.