Taggart (1959) (10 page)

He cared nothing one way or the other for Taggart. Only Swante Taggart was wort
h
five thousand dollars to him, dead or alive, the reward to be paid by the Bennett
s
themselves. If he could deliver Taggart alive to the Bennetts they would provid
e
their own hanging, but the problem of taking a prisoner across the country was
a
tough one.

Some men had to be taken back dead. He preferred it otherwise, because a dead ma
n
is mighty hard to load on a saddle each morning, and in hot weather it isn't practical.

Moreover, if he took them back alive they might escape and could then be capture
d
again for another reward. Yet to date he had killed nine men, not counting Indians.

Pete Shoyer was a tough man. He had no philosophy of life and had probably neve
r
heard the word; certainly he would not have understood it. He had no concealed motivations.

He simply hunted men the way he had once hunted buffalo, because it paid well, an
d
for the most part was scarcely more dangerous.

He had grown up hunting. He had hunted rabbits, deer, antelope, lion, bear, and buffalo
,
and now men. It had begun quite accidentally. A United States Marshal stopping b
y
a cow-camp where he worked had remarked that an outlaw he sought was worth five hundre
d
dollars, dead or alive. Pete Shoyer made a mental calculation as to how many month
s
he must work for five hundred dollars at thirty a month, and decided he was in th
e
wrong business.

He had no desire for a gunman's reputation. He never sought out a dangerous man t
o
challenge to see who was the fastest man; the very idea was ridiculous to him. Wh
o
was to gain by such an obviously silly action?

More than once he had gone out of his way to avoid a gun battle. Had he stopped t
o
consider the facts, he would probably have agreed that Swante Taggart was in th
e
right in defending his land, but Pete Shoyer was not interested in who was right.

His problem was simplicity itself: a man was wanted, the reward was large, get th
e
man.

His desires were few. He liked women, he liked food, he liked whiskey, although h
e
was never drunk. He liked being Pete Shoyer ... liked the thought that he never los
t
a prisoner or a man he once started after. He rarely played cards, because he hate
d
to lose good money ... it simply made no sense to him. Most of the men who ran th
e
gambling houses were prosperous, and he supposed it was no accident ... he himsel
f
never gave anyone any chances he could avoid giving, and he was sure the gambler
s
felt the same way.

He had never known what it meant to quit. He trailed men as a beagle trails rabbits
,
because it was his nature to do so, and he never thought of the right or wrong o
f
it. The men he sought were outlaws; somebody would eventually get them, and it migh
t
as well be him.

He was not cruel. He had never needlessly punished anyone. He went about his busines
s
as casually as the wind blows. There was no malice toward the men he hunted, unles
s
they had tried to kill him. If they showed signs of fight he usually killed the
m
as the most practical solution.

He had no particular feeling about crime except that most of the criminals he ha
d
known were broke. They were always talking about making a big haul, and they live
d
a povertystricken, hunted life while they talked about it.

Their hide-outs were dirty, their blankets filled with' bugs, their food cooked i
n
a hurry, their ears sharp for any sound that might mean pursuit. He did much better
,
and he believed in crime paying, because it paid him.

He understood the minds of the men he trailed, because they were predatory creature
s
like the wolves, lions, and bears he had hunted earlier. He knew what they wante
d
and where they had to go to get it. He knew where every sizeable bit o
f
loot was, and kept an eye on these places as a matter of course. He had develope
d
a knowledge of most of the outlaw element, of their friends, relatives, and hide-outs.

Most of his jobs were simplicity itself.

The women he liked were the frontier women of the cribs, the ones he could have
,
pay, and leave behind. He ate, he drank, he had a woman when he felt the need, an
d
from time to time he relaxed and loafed, living a life he could never have afforde
d
by any other means.

He was a dead shot with both rifle and pistol, and when he shot, he shot to kill.

He could track as well as any Apache, and it was rarely that he encountered suc
h
a problem as Taggart offered.

Not many outlaws would have taken off alone into Apache country. Shoyer felt sur
e
he would find Taggart dead, mutilated, and perhaps beyond identification.

He had lost the trail first when Taggart doubled back through Horsethief Canyon
,
and he lost it again at the Agua Fria, but he had no idea of giving up: five thousan
d
was the biggest reward he had ever gone after. By the time he discovered that Taggar
t
was heading east into the heart of Apache country, he knew the man he followed wa
s
not an ordinary outlaw, nor an ordinary man.

When Pete Shoyer left his lookout near Squaw Peak he rode south for Globe.

But he would be back.

Chapter
Six.

S wante Taggart awakened suddenly in the dark near the stable door and he lay still
,
his hand on his gun, listening.

Then he heard a door open slightly. Someone came out and started toward the spring.

He listened and heard a faint rustle of skirts.

With sudden embarrassment he realized that in washing the night before, and drinking
,
he had all but emptied the water bucket and had not refilled it.

He got to his feet and stepped out into the starlit night. For a moment he stoo
d
still, testing the night for other sounds, and then after a glance toward the canyo
n
mouth, he started after the girl who had gone for water.

He heard the gulp of the bucket as it took up water, and the falling drops as i
t
was lifted clear, then emptied. Whoever it was, wished to get the bucket thoroughl
y
wet to keep the water cool ... and then he heard water running into the bucket fro
m
the spring itself.

"I'll carry that," he said. "I should have filled it last night." "You were tired,"
s
aid Miriam. "Why don't you rest?" "Not in me, I guess. I'm an early riser."

They stood alone in the darkness, each conscious of the other, each uncertain wha
t
to say.

"Does he begin work early?"

"Adam? He tries to get to the mine while it is still dark so he will not be see
n
moving about. It is something we live with here ... we try to keep from being seen
,
or leaving tracks, so we move around as little as possible."

"But you live off the country?"

"Connie knows the plants ... at least many of them. We use what we can to help wit
h
what we brought along. Up the canyon there are some benches that are thickly grown
,
and on the mountainside above us ... we're careful."

"She's Indian?"

"Mexican ... but she grew up with Apaches. She knows them, and she's afraid of them."

He lifted the bucket from the rock and they started back to the cabin. "I'll sta
y
on," he said. "My horse needs a rest." "And then?"

"Who knows? Maybe I'll ride out of here for Morenci like I planned, but I might tur
n
back to the west. With a man like Pete Shoyer you have to figure mighty careful.

He reads a sign like an Apache, and he reads the mind of the man he's chasing. Onc
e
you establish a pattern of escape, he'll have it, and he's got you. A man who's runnin
g
away will nearly always, somewhere along the line, try to double back. He knows that.

Most times when a man goes into the water to leave no tracks, he'll come out on th
e
same side he goes in."

"I don't see why that should be."

"Neither do I, but it works out that way. So a man on the dodge, he has to out-gues
s
the man on his trail. One time you do it one way, another time another way. Mos
t
of all, a man shouldn't try to move fast ... he should think his way through, d
o
the unexpected several times, then the expected."

"It sounds complicated."

They paused at the door, neither anxious to end this brief exchange, a man and
a
woman together, standing close in the darkness.

She spoke in a whisper. "What you said about Tom Sanifer ... was that true?"

"Heard it coming across country. Heard it again in Crown King ... stories like tha
t
get around. I'd say it was true." "You mustn't say anything about it.... We didn'
t
know, Connie and I."

"Story has it a woman was involved."

She looked down at the shine of the dark water in the bucket. "So Adam did it....

I'm not surprised."

He opened the door and they stepped into the room. There was a rustle of
. M
ovemen
t
from the further room, and he put the bucket up on the table against the wall wher
e
the gourd hung. Only a candle glowed in the silent room.

He knelt at the fireplace and stirred the few coals, banked with ashes against th
e
night just passed. And then he added a few twigs, a piece of bark, some mesquit
e
wood. A flame curled around the mesquite, shooting out a red tongue toward the willingnes
s
of the bark. Swante Taggart looked up at the girl standing near him. Their eyes met
,
and he looked quickly back at the fire, then got up and turned toward the door.

"I'll have coffee in a few minutes." "All right."

He closed the door softly behind him and crossed to the stable. Habitually, whe
n
unable to undress because of the circumstances, he wore moccasins instead of boots.

They were comfortable, didn't make his feet swell as the boots were apt to do, an
d
were better for moving quietly if he had to get up in the night.

Now he went to the horse and put more feed before him, talked to him a few minutes
,
and led him to water. When he returned him to his feed he checked the position o
f
his saddle and left his rifle by the door jamb where he could put a hand on it instantly.

The canyon was gray now ... everything was visible, although there was no sun ye
t
in the sky, and a few stars still hung like late lanterns in the early light.

He stood for a time listening, and then he walked down to the mouth of the canyon.

There, keeping under cover, he took a long time studying the country, nQt only wit
h
an eye to seeing any sign of Shoyer or Apaches, but to know every draw, every bluff
,
every obstacle he might have to evade or use. Two-thirds of any fight was a knowledg
e
of terrain, and he intended to be ready when and if the time came.

At breakfast they ate in silence. When they had finished, Stark looked over the coffe
e
cup at him. "You're staying on?" "A while."

"Good. "

Stark pushed back from the table. "Miriam will show you the way up Rockinstraw whe
n
there's time ... we try to keep out of sight and make as little noise as possible.