Riders Of the Dawn (1980) (13 page)

"You're Matt Sabre? I was expecting you."

That made me grin. "With a face like this, you shoul d expect me. I took a licking for a while."

"And gave one to Morgan Park. I have just come fro m the jail, where I looked him over. He has three broken rib s and his jaw is broken."

"No!" I stared at him.

He nodded. "The ribs were broken last night sometime , I'd guess."

"There was no quit in him."

West nodded seriously. "There still isn't. He's a dangerous man, Sabre. A very dangerous man."

That I knew. Looking around, I saw nothing of Olg a Maclaren. Hesitating to ask, I waited and let him work o n me. When he was finished I got to my feet and buckled o n my guns.

"And now?" he asked.

"Back to the Two Bar. There's work to do there."

He nodded, but seemed to be hesitating about something. Then he asked, "What about the murder of Ru d Maclaren? What's your view on that?"

Something occurred to me then that I had forgotten. "I t was Morgan Park," I said. "Canaval found the footprint of a man nearby. The boots were very small. Morgan Park--and I n oticed it for the first time during our fight--has very smal l feet despite his size."

"You may be right," he agreed, hesitantly. "I've wondered."

"Who else could it have been? I know I didn't do it."

"I don't believe you did, but--" He hesitated and the n dropped the subject.

Slowly, I walked out to the porch and stopped there , fitting my hat on my head. It had be done gently, for I ha d two good-sized lumps just at my hairline. A movement mad e me turn, and Olga was standing in the doorway.

Her dark hair was piled on her head, the first time I ha d seen it that way, and she was wearing something green an d summery that made her eyes an even deeper green. For a long moment neither of us spoke, and then she said, "You r face--does it hurt very much?"

Not much. It mostly just looks bad, and I'll probabl y not be able to shave for a while. How's Canaval?"

"He's much better. I've put Fox to running the ranch."

"He's a good man." I twisted my hat in my hands.

"When are you going back?"

"Tomorrow., I believe."

How lovely she was! At this moment I knew that I ha d never in all my life seen anything so, lovely, or anyone s o desirable, or anyone who meant so much to me. It wa s strange, all of it. But how did she feel toward me?

"You're staying on the Two Bar?"

"Yes, my house is coming along now, and the cattle ar e doing well. I've started something there, and I think I'll stay.

This," I said quietly, "is my home. This is my country. This i s where I belong.

She looked up, and as our eyes met I thought she wa s going to speak, but she said nothing. Then I stepped quickl y to her and took her hands. "Olga! You can't really believ e that I killed your father? You can't believe I ever would d o such a thing?"

"No. I never really believed you'd killed him."

"Then--"

She said nothing, not meeting my eyes.

"I want you, Olga. You, more than anything. I want yo u on the Two Bar. You are the reason I have stayed here, an d you are the reason I am going to remain."

"Don't. Don't talk like that. We can never be anythin g to each other."

"What are you saying? You can't mean that!"

"I do mean it. You--you're violent! You're a killer! You'v e killed men here, and I think you live for fighting! I watche d you in that fight with Morgan! You--you actually enjoyed it!"

Thinking that over, I had to agree. "In a way, yes. Afte r all, fighting has been a necessity too long in the life of me n upon earth. It is not an easy thing to he rid of. Mentally, I k now that violence is always a bad means to an end. I kno w that all disputes should be settled without it. Nevertheless , deep inside me there is something that does like it. It is to o old a feeling to die out quickly, and as long as there are me n in the world like Morgan Park, the Pinders, and Bodie Miller , there must be men willing and able to fight them."

"But why does it have to be you?" She looked up at m e quickly. "Don't fight anymore, Matt! Stay on the Two Bar fo r a while! Don't come to town! I don't want you to meet Bodi e Miller! You mustn't! You mustn't!"

Shrugging, I drew back a little. "Honey, there are som e things a man must do, some things he has to do. If meetin g Bodie Miller is one of them, I'll do it. Meeting a man wh o challenges you may seem very foolish to a woman's world , but a man cannot live only among women. He must live wit h men, and that means he must be judged by their standards , and if I hack down for Miller, then I'm through here."

"You can go away! You could go to California. You coul d go and straighten out some business for me there! Matt, yo u could--"

"No. I'm staying here."

There were more words and hard words but when I lef t her I had not changed. Not that I underestimated Miller i n any way. I had seen such men before. Billy the Kid had bee n like him. Bodie Miller was full of salt now. He was riding hi s luck with spurs. Remembering that sallow face with its hard , cruel eyes, I knew I could not live in the country aroun d Hattan's without facing Miller.

Yet I saw nothing of Bodie Miller in Hattan's, and too k the trail for the Two Bar, riding with caution. The chance s were he was confident enough now to face me, especiall y after the smashing I'd taken. Moreover, the Slades were i n the country and would be smarting over the beating I ha d given them.

The Two Bar looked better than anything I had seen in a long time. It was shadowed now with late evening, but th e slow smoke lifted straight above the chimney, and I could se e the horses in the corral. As I rode into the yard a ma n materialized from the shadows. It was Jonathan Benaras, wit h his long rifle.

When I swung down from the saddle he stared at m y face, but said nothing. Knowing he would be curious, I e xplained simply. "Morgan Park and I had it out. It was quit e a fight. He took a licking."

"If he looks worse than you he must be a sight."

He does, believe me. Anybody been around?"

"Nary a soul. Jolly was down the wash this afternoon.

Them cows are sure fattenin' up fast. You got you a might y fine ranch here. Paw was over. He said if you need anothe r hand you could have Zeb for the askin'."

"Thanks. Your father's all man."

Jonathan nodded. "I reckon. We aim to be neighbors t o folks who'll neighbor with us. We won't have no truck wit h them as walks it high an' mighty. Paw took to you right off.

Said you come an' faced him like a man an' laid your cards o n the table."

Mulvaney grinned when I walked through the door, an d then indicated the food on the table. "Set up. You're just i n time."

It was good, sitting there in my own home, seeing th e light reflecting from the dishes and feeling the warmth an d pleasantness of it. But the girl I wanted to share these thing s with was not here to make it something more than just a house.

"You are silent tonight," Mulvaney said shrewdly. "Is i t the girl, or is it the fight?"

I grinned, and my face hurt with the grinning. "I wa s thinking of the girl, but not of Park."

"I was wondering about the fight," Mulvaney replied. "I w ish I'd been there to see it."

I told them about it, and as I talked I began to wonde r what Park would do now, for he would not rest easy in jail , and there was no telling what trick Jake Booker might be u p to. And what was it they wanted? Until I knew that, I kne w nothing.

The place to look was where the Bar M and the Two Ba r joined. And tomorrow I would do my looking, and would d o it carefully.

On this ride Mulvaney joined me, and I welcomed th e company as well as the Irishman's shrewd brain. We rod e east toward the vast wilderness that lay there, east toward th e country where I had followed Morgan Park toward his rendezvous with Jack Slade, east toward the maze of canyons , desert, and lonely lands beyond the river.

"See any tracks up that way before?" Mulvaney aske d suddenly.

"Some," I admitted, "but I was following the fresh trail.

We'll have a look around."

"Think it will be that silver you found out about i n Booker's office?"

"Could be. We'll head for Dark Canyon Plateau an d work north from there. I think that's the country."

"I'd feel better," Mulvaney admitted after a pause, "i f we knew what had become of that Slade outfit. They'll b e feelin' none too kindly after the whippin' you gave 'em."

I agreed. Studying the narrowing point, I knew we woul d soon strike a trail that led back to the northwest, a trail tha t would take us into the depths of Fable Canyon. Nearing tha t trail, I suddenly saw something that looked like a horse track.

A bit later we found the trail of a single horse, freshly sho d and heading northeast--a trail no more than a few hours old!

"Could be one of the Slade outfit," Mulvaney speculate d dubiously. "Park's in jail, an' nobody else would come ove r here."

We fell in behind, and I could see these tracks mus t have been made during the night. At one place a hoof ha d slipped and the earth had not yet dried out. Obviously, then , the horse had passed after the sun went down.

We rode with increasing care, and we were gaining.

When the canyon branched we found a waterhole where th e rider had filled his canteen and prepared a meal.- "He's n o woodsman, Mulvaney. Much of the wood he used was no t good burning wood and some of it green. Also, his fire was i n a place where the slightest breeze would swirl smoke in hi s face."

"He didn't unsaddle," Mulvaney said, "which means h e was in a hurry."

This was not one of Slade's outlaws, for always on th e dodge, nobody knew better than they how to live in th e wilds. Furthermore, they knew these canyons. This might b e a stranger drifting into the country looking for a hideout. Bu t it was somewhere in this maze that we would find what it wa s that drew the interest of Morgan Park.

Scouting around, I suddenly looked up. "Mulvaney! He'
s whipped up! There's no trial out!"

"Sure an he didn't take wings to get-out of here," Mulvane y growled. "We've gone blind, that's what we've done."

Returning to the spring we let the horse drink while I d id some serious thinking. The rock walls offered no route o f escape. The trail had been plain to this point and the n vanished.

No tracks. He had watered his horse, prepared a meal--a nd afterward left no tracks. "It's uncanny," I said. "It look s like we've a ghost on our hands."

Mulvaney rubbed his grizzled jaw and chuckled. "Wh o would be better to cope with a ghost than a couple o f Irishmen?"

"Make some coffee, you bogtrotter," I told him. "Mayb e then well think better."

"It's a cinch he didn't fly," I said later, over coffee, "an d not even a snake could get up these cliffs. So he rode in, an d if he left, he rode out."

"But he left no tracks, Matt. He could have brushe d them out, but we saw no signs of brushing. Where does tha t leave us?"

"Maybe--the idea came suddenly--"he tied somethin g on his feet?"

"Let's look up the canyons. He'd be most careful righ t here, but if he is wearin' somethin' on his feet, the furthe r he goes the more tired he'll be--or his horse will be."

"You take one canyon, an I'll take the other. We'll mee t back here in an hour."

Walking, leading my buckskin. I scanned the ground.

At no place was the sand hard packed, and there were track s of deer, lion, and an occasional bighorn. Then I found a plac e where wild horses had fed, and there something attracte d me. Those horses had been frightened!

From quiet feeding they had taken off suddenly, and n o bear or lion would frighten them so. They would leave, bu t not so swiftly. Only one thing could make wild horses fly s o quickly--man!

The tracks were comparatively fresh, and instinct tol d me this was the right way. The wild horses had continued t o run. Where their tracks covered the bottom of the canyon , and where the unknown rider must follow them, I shoul d find a clue. And I did, almost at once.

Something foreign to the rock and manzanita caught m y eye. Picking it free of a manzanita branch, I straightened up.

It was sheep's wool!

Swearing softly, I swung into the saddle and turne d back. The rider had brought sheepskins with him, tied som e over his horse's hoofs and some over his own boots, and s o left no defined tracks. Mulvaney was waiting for me. "Fin d anything?"

He listened with interest and then nodded. It was a good idea he had. Well, we'll get him now!"

The trail led northeast and finally to a high, windswep t plateau unbroken by anything but a few towering rocks o r low-growing sagebrush. We sat our horses squinting agains t the distance, looking over the plateau and then out over th e vast maze of canyons, a red, corrugated distance of lan d almost untrod by men. "If he's out there," Mulvaney said , "we may never find him. You could lose an army in that."

"We'll find him. My hunch is that it won't be far." I nodde d at the distance. "He had no packhorse and only a canteen t o carry water, and even if he's uncommonly shrewd, he's no t experienced in the wilds."