Riders Of the Dawn (1980) (2 page)

"You've put your tongue to prophecy, darlin'," I said , "and I'll not say that I'll not end in Boot Hill, where man y another good man has gone, but I will say this, and you slee p on it, daughter of Maclaren, for it's a bit of the truth. Before I s leep in Boot Hill, there'll be sons and daughters of yours an d mine on this ground.

"Yes, and believe me"--I got up to go--"when my tim e comes I'll be carried there by six tall sons of ours, and there'l l be daughters of ours who'll weep at my grave, and you wit h them, remembering the years we've had."

When the door slapped shut behind me, there was silence inside, and then through the thin walls I heard Mothe r O'Hara speak. "You'd better be buyin' that trousseau, Olg a Maclaren, for there's a lad as knows his mind!"

This was the way of it then, and now I had planning t o do and my way to make in the world, for though I'd travelle d wide and far, in many lands not my own, I'd no money and n o home to take her to.

Behind me were wars and struggles, hunger, thirst, an d cold, and the deep, splendid bitterness of fighting for a cause I s carcely understood, because there was in me the undyin g love of a lost cause and a world to win. And now I'd my ow n to win, and a threshold to find to carry her over.

And then, as a slow night wind moved upon my chee k and stirred the hair above my brow, I found an answer. I k new what I would do, and the very challenge of it sent m y blood leaping, and the laughter came from my lips as I s tepped into the street and started across.

Then I stopped, for there was a man before me.

He was a big man, towering above my six feet and tw o inches, broader and thicker than my two hundred pounds.

He was a big-boned man and full of raw power, unbroken and b rutal. He stood there, wide-legged before me, his face wid e as my two hands, his big head topped by a mat of tight curls , his hat missing somewhere.

"You're Sabre?" he said.

"Why, yes," I said, and he hit me.

Never did I see the blow start. Never even did I see th e balled fist of him, but it bludgeoned my jaw like an ax butt , and something seemed to slain me behind the knees, and I f elt myself going. He caught one again before I could fall an d then dropped astride of me and began to swing short, bruta l blows to my head with both big fists. All of two hundred an d sixty pounds he must have weighed, and none of it wasted b y fat. He was naked, raw, unbridled power.

Groggy, bloody, beaten, I fought to get up, but he wa s astride me, and my arms were pinned to my sides by hi s great knees. His fists were slugging me with casual brutality.

Then suddenly, he got up and stepped back and kicked me i n the ribs. "If you're conscious," he said, "hear me. I'm Morgan Park, and I'm the man who marries Olga Maclaren!"

My lips were swollen and bloody. "You lie!" I said, an d he kicked me again. Then he stepped over me and walke d away, whistling.

Somehow I got my arms under me. Somehow I dragge d myself against the stage station wall, and then I lay there, m y head throbbing like a great drum, the blood slowly drying o n my split lips and broken face. It had been a beating I'd taken , and the marvel of it was with me. I'd not been licked since I w as a lad, and never in all my days have I felt such blows a s these. His fists were like knots of oak, and the arms behin d them like the limbs of a tree.

I had a broken rib, I thought, but one thing I knew. I t was time for me to travel. Never would I have the daughte r of Maclaren see me like this!

My hands found the building corner, and I pulled mysel f to my feet. Staggering behind the buildings, I got to th e corner of the livery stable. Entering, I got to my horse, an d somehow I got the saddle on him and led him out of th e door. And then I stepped for an instant, in the light.

Across the way, on the stoop of Mother O'Hara's, wa s Olga Maclaren!

The light was on my face, swollen, bloody and broken.

She stepped down off the porch and came over to me, looking up, her eyes wide with wonder. "So it's you. He foun d you, then. He always hears, and this always happens. You see , it is not so simple a thing to marry Olga Maclaren!" Ther e seemed almost regret in her voice. "And now you're leaving!"

"Leaving? That I am, but I'll be back!" The words fumbled through my swollen lips. "Have your trousseau ready , daughter of Maclaren! I mean what I say! Wait for me. I'll b e coining again, darlin', and when I do it will be first to tea r down Morgan Park's great hulk, to rip him with my fists!"

There was coolness in her voice, shaded with contempt.

"You boast! All you have done is talk--and take a beating!"

That made me grin, and the effort made me wince, but I l ooked down at her. "It's a bad beginning, at that, isn't it?

But wait for me, darlin', I'll be coming back!"

I could feel her watching me ride down the street.

Chapter
2

Throughout the night I rode into wilder and wilder country , always with the thought of what faced me. At daybreak I b edded down in a canyon tall with pines, resting there whil e my side began to mend. My thoughts returned again and agai n to the shocking power of those punches I had taken. It wa s true the man had slugged me unexpectedly, and once pinne d down I'd had no chance against his great weight. Nonetheles s I'd been whipped soundly. Within me there was a gnawin g eagerness to go back--and not with guns. This man I mus t whip with my hands.

The Two Bar was the key to the situation. Could it b e had with a gun and some blarney? The beating I'd take n rankled, and the contempt of Olga Maclaren, and with it th e memory of the hatred of Jim Pinder and the coldness of Ru d Maclaren. On the morning of the third day I mounted th e buckskin and turned him toward the Two Bar.

A noontime sun was darkening my buckskin with swea t when I turned up Cottonwod Wash. There was green gras s here, and trees, and the water that trickled down was clea r and pure. The walls of the wash were high and the tree s towered to equal them, and the occasional cattle looked fa t and lazy, far better than elsewhere on this range. The pat h ended abruptly at a gate bearing a large sign in white letter s against a black background.

RANGED FOR A SPENCER .56

Ball evidently had his own ideas. No trespasser who go t a bullet could say he hadn't been warned. Beyond this gate a man took his own chances. Taking off my hat, I rose in m y stirrups and waved it toward the house.

A gun boomed, and I heard the sharp whop of a bulle t whipping past. It was a warning shot, so I merely waved onc e more. That time the bullet was close, so I grabbed my ches t with both hands and slid from the saddle to the ground.

Speaking to the buckskin, I rolled over behind a boulder.

Leaving my hat on the ground in plain sight, I removed a boot and placed it to be seen from the gate. Then I crawle d into the brush, from where I could cover the gate.

Several minutes later, Ball appeared. Without comin g through the gate, he couldn't see the boot was empty.

He was a tall old man with a white handlebar mustach e and shrewd eyes. No fool, he studied the layout carefully, bu t to all appearances his aim had miscalculated and he ha d scored a hit. He glanced at the strange brand on the buckski n and at the California bridle and bit. Finally, he opened th e gate and came out, and as he moved toward my horse his bac k turned toward me. "Freeze, Ball! You're dead in my sights!"

He stood still. "Who are you?" he demanded. "What yo u want with me?"

"No trouble. I came to talk business."

"I got no business with anybody."

"You've business with me. I'm Matt Sabre. I've had a run-in with Jim Pinder and told off Maclaren when he tol d me to leave. I've taken a beating from Morgan Park."

Ball chuckled. "You say you want no trouble with me , but from what you say, you've had it with everybody else!"

He turned at my word, and I holstered my gun. H
e stepped back far enough to see the boot, and then he grinned.

"Good trick. I'll not bite on that one again. What you want?"

Pulling on my boot and retrieving my hat, I told him.

"I've no money. I'm a fighting man and a sucker for the toug h side of any scrap. When I rode into Hattan's I figured o n trouble, but when I saw Olga Maclaren I decided to stay an d marry her, I've told her so.

"No wonder Park beat vou. He's run off the local lads."

He studied one curiously. "What did she say?"

"Very little, and when I told her I was coining back t o face Park again, she thought I was loudmouthed."

"Aim to try him again?"

"I'm going to whip him. But that's not all. I plan to sta y in this country, and there's only one ranch in this countr y want or would have."

Ball's lips thinned. "This one?"

"It's the best, and anybody who owns it stands in th e middle of trouble. I'd be mighty uncomfortable anywher e else."

"What you aim to do about me? This here's my ranch."

"Let's walk up to your place and talk it over."

"We'll talk here." Ball's hands were on his hips, and I h ad no doubt he'd go for a gun if I made a wrong move.

"Speak your piece."

"All right, here it is. You're buckin' a stacked deck.

Gamblers are offerin' thirty to one you won't last thirty days.

Both Maclaren and Pinder are out to get you. What I want i s a fighting, working partnership. Or you sell out and I'll pa y you when I can. I'll take over the fight."

He nodded toward the house. '''Come on up. We'll tal k this over."

Two hours later the deal was ironed out. He could no t stay awake every night. He could not work and guard hi s stock. He could not go to town for supplies. Together w e could do all of it.

"You'll be lucky if you last a week," he told me. "When they find out, they'll be fit to be tied."

"They won't find out right away. First I'll buy supplie s and ammunition and get back here."

"Good idea. But leave Morgan Park alone. He's as hand y with a gun as with his fists."

The Two Bar controlled most of Cottonwood Wash an d on its eastern side opened into the desert wilderness wit h only occasional patches of grass and much desert growth.

Maclaren's Bar M and Pinder s CP bordered the ranch on th e west, with Maclaren's range extending to the desert land i n one portion, but largely west of the Two Bar.

Both ranches had pushed the Two Bar cattle back, usurping the range for their own use. In the process of bein g pushed north, most of the Two Bar calves had vanishe d under Bar M or CP brands. "Mostly the CP," Ball advised.

"Them Pinders are poison mean. Rollie rode with the Jame s boys a few times, and both of them were with Quantrill. Jim'
s a fast gun, but nothin' to compare with Rollie."

At daylight, with three unbranded mules to carry th e supplies, I started for Hattan's, circling around to hit the trai l on the side away from the Two Bar. The town was quie t enough, and the day warm and still. As I loaded the supplie s I was sweating. The sweat trickled into my eyes and my sid e pained me. My face was still puffed, but both my eves wer e now open. Leading my mules out of town, I concealed the m in some brush with plenty of grass and then returned t o Mother O'Hara's.

Key Chapin and Canaval were there, and Canaval looke d up at me. "Had trouble?" he asked. "That job at the Bar M i s still open."

"Thanks. I'm going to run my own outfit." Foolish thoug h it was; I said it. Olga had come in the door behind me, he r perfume told me who it was, and even without it somethin g in my blood would have told me. From that day on she wa s never to be close to me without my knowledge. It wa s something deep and exciting that was between us.

"Your own outfit?" They were surprised. "You're turnin g nester?"

"No. Ranching." Turning, I swept off my hat and indicated the seat beside mine. "Miss Maclaren? May I have th e pleasure?"

Her green eyes were level and measuring. She hesitate d and then shook her head. Walking around the table sh e seated herself beside Canaval.

Chapin was puzzled. "You're ranching? If there's an y open range around here, I don't know of it."

"It's a place over east of here," I replied lightly, "th e Two Bar."

"What about the Two Bar?" Rud Maclaren had come in.

He stood cold and solid, staring down at me.

Olga glanced up at her father, some irony in her eyes.

"Mr. Sabre was telling us that he is ranching--on the Tw o Bar. -

"What?" Glasses and cups jumped at his voice, and M
a O'Hara hurried in from her kitchen, rolling pin in hand.

"That's right." I was enjoying it. "I've a working partnership with Ball. He needed help and I didn't want to leav e despite all the invitations I was getting." Then I added, "A m an dislikes being far from the girl he's to marry."

"What's that?" Maclaren demanded, his eyes puzzled.

"Why, Father!" Olga's eyes widened. "Haven't you heard?

The whole town is talking of it! Mr. Sabre has said he is goin g to marry me!"