Novel 1956 - Silver Canyon (v5.0) (10 page)

“How else would a man look at a woman?”

She gave up then and we walked inside. The living room was comfortable, not in the ornate, overdecorated manner of the eastern cities, but with a simplicity bred by the frontier. Rud Maclaren was obviously a man who loved comfort, and he had a daughter who could shape a house to beauty even in this harsh land.

“Matt…how do you feel? Those wounds, I mean. Are you all right?”

“No…but much better.”

We sat down, and for the first time she looked a little uncomfortable, and would not let her eyes meet mine.

“Where were you before you came here, Matt? Canaval said you were marshal of Mobeetie once.”

“Only a short time.” So I told her about that, and then somehow about the rest of it, about the long nights of riding, the trail herds, the buffalo, the border
cantinas.
About the days in Sonora when I rode for a Mexican hacienda, and about prospecting in Baja California, the ruins of the old missions, and much more.

And somehow we forgot where we were and I talked of the long wind in the vast ocean of prairie east of the Rockies, how the grass waved in long ripples. About the shrill yells of the Comanches attacking…and about nights under the stars lonely nights when I lay long awake, yearning into the darkness for someone to love, someone to whom I belonged and who belonged to me.

We were meeting then as a man and woman must always meet, when the world and time stand aside and there is only this, a meeting of minds and of pulsing blood, and a joining of hands in the quiet hours.

And then we heard hoofs in the yard, the coming of horses.

Two horses…two riders.

Chapter 13

M
OIRA GOT UP quickly, tendrils of dark hair curled against her neck, and there were tiny beads of perspiration on her upper lip, for the day was very hot.

“Matt, that's father. You'd better go.”

She had stepped toward me and I took her elbows and drew her to me. She started to draw away, but I took her chin and turned her face toward me. She was frightened and tried to draw back, but not very hard. Her eyes were suddenly wide and dark…and then I kissed her.

For an instant we clung together, and then she pulled violently away from me. She stood like that, not saying anything, and then moved quickly to kiss me again. We were like that when we heard footsteps outside.

We stepped apart just as Rud Maclaren and Morgan Park came through the door.

Park saw us, and something in Moira's manner must have given him an idea of what had taken place. His face went dark with anger and he started toward me, his voice hoarse with fury.

“Get out! Get
out,
I say!”

My eyes went past him to Maclaren. “Is this your home, Maclaren, or his?”

“That'll do, Morgan!” Maclaren did not like my being there, but he liked Morgan Park's usurping of authority even less. “I'll order people from my own home.”

Morgan Park's face was ugly. He wanted trouble, but before he could speak Canaval appeared in the door behind them.

“Boss, Brennan said he was just visitin', not huntin', trouble. He said he would go when I asked him and that he would make no trouble for Park.

Moira interrupted quickly. “Father, Mr. Brennan is my guest. When the time comes he will leave. Until then, I wish him to stay.”

“I won't have him in my house!” Maclaren declared angrily. “Damn you, Brennan! You've got a gall to come here after shootin' my men, stealin' range that rightly belongs to me, and runnin' my cows out of Cottonwood!”

“We've no differences we can't settle peaceably,” I told him quietly. “I never wanted trouble with you, and I think we can reach an agreement.”

It took the fire out of him. He was still truculent, still ready to throw his weight around, but mollified. Right then I sensed the truth about Rud Maclaren. It was not land and property he wanted so much as to be known as the biggest man in the country. He simply knew of no way of winning respect and admiration other than through wealth and power.

Realizing that gave me the opening I wanted. Peace I had to have, but peace with Maclaren especially. And here it was, if I made the right moves.

“Today I had a talk with Chapin. This fighting can only be stopped through the leadership of the right man. I think you are that man, Maclaren.”

He was listening, and he liked what he heard. He could see himself acting in the role of peacemaker. And he was a shrewd man who could not but realize that every day of this war was costing him men, cattle, and money. While his men were fighting or riding the country they could not attend to ranch business.

“You're the big man around here. If you make a move, the others will follow.”

“Not the Pinders. You killed Rollie, and they'll not rest until you're dead. And he hates me and all I stand for.”

Morgan Park was listening, suddenly hard and watchful. This was something he had never expected, that Maclaren and I would actually get together and talk peace. If we reached an agreement, any plans he had would be wasted, finished.

“If the CP try to continue the fight,” I suggested, “they would outlaw themselves. In the eyes of everyone they would have no standing.

“Moreover, if this fight continues all the rustlers in the country will come in here to take advantage of the situation and steal cattle.”

Moira was listening with some surprise and, I thought, with respect. My own instinct had always been toward fighting, yet I had always appreciated the futility of it. If we could settle our difficulties, the CP would be forced to restrain themselves. The joker in the deck was Morgan Park. If, as I now believed, he had reason to want to continue the fight in order to complete his plans, then an end to hostilities would be a death blow for his arrangements with Booker.

Rud was impressed, that was obvious to Morgan Park as well as to me. Maclaren rubbed his chin thoughtfully, seeing the logic of the situation as I expressed it.

Rud Maclaren was a careful man who had come early, worked hard, and planned well. It was only now in these later years that he had become acquisitive of power. But he could not help but realize that he was looked upon without affection by many of his neighbors. While he affected no interest, it was obvious that my suggestion offered an opportunity for that.

Park interrupted suddenly. “Don't trust this talk, Rud. Brennan makes it sound all right, but he has some trick in mind. What's he planning? What's he covering up?”

“Morgan!” Moira protested. “I'm surprised at you! Matt is sincere, and you know it.”

“I know nothing of the kind. Yet you defend this—this killer.”

He was staring right at me when he said it, as if daring me to object. That he wanted trouble, I knew. A fight now would ruin all I had been saying.

It came to me then, and I said it, not without doubt.

“At least, I've never killed a man who had no gun. A man who would have been helpless against me in any case.”

When I said it I was looking right at him and something changed in his eyes, and into his face there came something I had not seen there before. And I knew now that I was marked for death. That Morgan Park would no longer wait.

It was D'Arcy I had in mind…for, playing a hunch only, I believed D'Arcy had been murdered.

Yet it was more than a hunch. D'Arcy was a man who would never have neglected to thank his hostess. He would never have left without paying his respects. Something had happened to prevent it. But I had no evidence. Only that flimsy hunch, and the fact that D'Arcy had vanished suddenly after Morgan Park had shown an interest in him.

Now that I had started I did not intend to hold back. As best I could, I intended to put Rud Maclaren on his guard.

“It is not only rustlers,” I said, “but those who have other schemes as well, schemes they can only bring to success under the cover of this fighting.”

Morgan Park's features were stiff. Actually, I knew little or nothing, yet somehow I had touched a nerve, and Morgan Park was a worried man. If my guess was correct, he now knew that I knew something and he would suspect me of knowing much more than I actually did.

“I'll think this over,” Maclaren said finally. “This is no time to make a decision.”

“Sure.” I turned toward Moira and took her arm. “And now if you'll excuse us?”

We moved toward the door, and Morgan Park's fury suddenly snapped. His face livid, he started forward. Putting Moira quickly to one side, I was ready for him.

“Hold it!”

Canaval stepped between us, stopping Morgan Park in his tracks.

“That's all Park. We'll have no fighting here.”

“What's the matter? Brennan need a nursemaid now?”

“No.” Canaval was stiff. “Brennan promised me there would be no trouble. I'm not going to let you cause any.”

There was a moment of silence, and Moira moved back to my side. What Morgan Park might have done or said, I do not know, but whatever it was, I was ready. Never before had I wanted to smash and destroy as I did when I faced that man. All I could remember was him sitting astride me, swinging those huge, methodical fists.

“Brennan,” Maclaren spoke abruptly, “I've no reason to like you, but you talk straight from the shoulder and you are my daughter's guest. Remain as long as you like.”

Later, I understood that right at that moment Park must have made his decision. There could be no other alternative for him. He drew back and slowly relaxed, and he did not say another word.

Moira walked with me to my horse, and she was worried. “He's a bad enemy, Matt. I'm sorry this happened.”

“He was my enemy, anyway. That he is a bad enemy, I can guess. I believe another friend of yours found out about that.”

She looked up quickly, real fear in her eyes. “I don't understand you.”

“Did you ever have a note of acknowledgment from D'Arcy?”

“No…but what has that to do—”

“Strange, isn't it? I'd have thought a man of his sort would not neglect such an obvious courtesy.”

There had been, I think, some similar thought in her mind. I had sensed it when I first mentioned that other friend. It was inexplicable that a man like D'Arcy should drop so suddenly from sight.

We stood there without talking, no more words between us for several minutes, but needing none. Our hearts were beating together, our blood pulsing together, our faces touched by the gentle hand of the same wind.

“This will pass,” I said, “as the night will pass, and when it is gone, I shall take you back to Cottonwood Wash to live.”

“You're a strange man. You look like an ordinary cowhand, but you talk like a man of education.”

“I read a book once.” I grinned at her. “A couple of them, in fact. And don't fool yourself about cowhands.”

Tightening the cinch, I swung my horse for mounting.

“But could you settle down? Could you stay?”

My foot went into the stirrup and I swung into the leather.

“On the day I rode into Hattan's Point and saw you, I knew I would stay. Why does a man drift around? Only because he is looking for something. For money, for a home, for a girl.”

Night had closed in from the hills, moving its dark battalions of shadows under the trees and in the lee of buildings, then reaching out to cover the ranch yard. A few stars had come out.

Reaching down, I caught Moira's hand and swung her up, her foot slipping into the stirrup. Her breath caught as I pulled her into my arms, then came quickly and deeply, her lips parting slightly as she came into my arms. I felt her warm body melt against mine and her lips were seeking, urgent, passionate. My fingers went to her hair, and all the waiting, all the fighting, all our troubles dissolved into nothingness.

She pulled back suddenly, frightened and excited, her breasts rising and falling as she fought for control.

“This isn't good, Matt! We're too—too violent. We've got to be more calm.”

I laughed then, full of the zest of living and loving and holding the beauty of her in my arms in the early night.

“You're not exactly a calm person.”

“I?” She seemed to hesitate. “Well, all right, then. Neither of us is calm.”

“Need we be?”

And then we heard someone coming down from the house, someone whistling lightly. Boots grated of the gravel path and I let Moira down to the ground quickly.

It was Canaval.

“Better ride…Morgan Park will be leaving soon. Might be trouble.”

I gathered the reins. “I'm practically gone.”

“Mean what you said back there? About peace and all?”

“What can we gain by fighting?”

Canaval turned to Moira. “Let me talk to Brennan alone, will you? There's something he should know.”

When she had gone back to the house, Canaval said quietly, “She reminds me of her mother.”

Surprised, I looked down at him. “You knew her mother?”

“She was my sister.”

“But…does Moira know?”

“Rud and I used to ride together. I was too fast with a gun and killed a man with too many relatives so I left the country we came from Rud married my sister after I left, and from time to time we kept in touch. Then Rud needed help against rustlers, and sent for me. He persuaded me to stay.” He hesitated, then added, “Moira doesn't know.”

We were silent, listening to the night, as men of our kind would. I knew then that Canaval liked me or he would never have told me this.

Chapter 14

I
T WAS AFTER midnight when finally I rode away from the Boxed M, leaving the main trail and cutting across country to the head of Gypsum Canyon.

Before leaving I had told Canaval what I had heard about the Slades, and he had listened, without comment. Whether he believed me I could not say, but at least he had been warned. Each of us knew all there was to know about Slade. The man was a killer for hire, a cold-blooded and efficient man with a gun.