Riders West. Ernest Haycox

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СКАЧАТЬ Dan. And I think she's been in trouble. Anyhow, she was so downright about it I had to give in. As much as told me she'd go ahead anyhow if I didn't see fit to do the dickering for her."

      "And she would," mused Bellew.

      "Well," Townsite wanted to know, "where'll we put her?"

      After a moment Dan said: "Tanner's old cabin."

      Townsite was dubious. "Too close to St. Cloud's wild boys."

      "I know. But Henry Mitchell's only half a mile from it, and I'm just west of the coulees a couple miles."

      "All right," said Townsite. "Now I've got to arrange everything tonight. Guess she never heard about the values of procrastinatin'. Who'll show her up there?"

      "It's on my way," said Dan. "I'm going home in the morning."

      Both men looked oddly at him. Jubilee's question was faintly ironic: "After she gives you a lacin'?"

      "She didn't understand," said Dan gently.

      Townsite repeated his conviction: "She's been in trouble."

      Dan nodded indifferently and left the place, obviously thinking of other things. He took his horse to the stable and afterwards headed for the Golden Bull, there locating Solano. "Go on home tonight," he told Solano. "Early in the morning take a broom and a hammer over to the Tanner cabin and clean it up."

      Back in the store Townsite said: "The shootin' hurt him pretty hard."

      Jubilee morosely assented. "A lot of things hurt him. What worries me is the future. You realize that Dan will sure be the chief target in this fight? You'll never organize the respectable ranchers under anybody else. St. Cloud knows it, too. His aim will be to get Dan out of the way."

      When Nan came from the hotel next morning early, she had for a moment the sensation of definitely beginning another existence. A hard, bright sunlight washed the unlovely walls of Trail to create crisp black and white contrasts. All the buildings stood before her with a gaunt angularity. In another hour it would be hot, but there was yet a coolness to the air and a kind of winelike vigor that woke in her some little sense of buoyancy. Surprisingly, the night and its terrible, scene absorbed less of her imagination than she had thought possible. Crossing the yellow dust of the square, she found a flat-bed wagon and team waiting there, loaded with supplies. Tethered behind was a pair of saddled horses.

      Townsite came out of the store.

      "I have a cashier's check," she said and held it out to him, "Please settle the account and let the balance stand in your bank."

      Townsite grinned openly. "I don't believe," he drawled, "I ever run up against anybody like you. But I got everything fixed."

      "What are the saddle horses for?"

      "One's yours. Hereabouts you need a horse worse than you need shoes. It's the little strawberry there—very gentle. Other one belongs to the man that's taking you out. Mama, come out here."

      A gray, quick-moving little woman appeared from the store. She had, Nan realized, been watching. Townsite said: "This is Miss Avery, Mama."

      Mrs. Townsite had snapping, inquisitive eyes; but a kindly mouth and a ready smile. "If you'd just stay over a day," she offered, "I'd like to introduce you to the women of the town."

      "Thank you—I'm afraid not."

      "Here's your teamster for the trip," drawled Townsite. "Dan Bellew—owner of the Broken Stirrup."

      Nan turned quickly, saw Bellew strolling over the dust; and for a moment most of her self-possession deserted her. It was a situation she didn't know how to meet. Half angered, she felt color come to her cheeks. Townsite was speaking: "Dan's ranch ain't far from your cabin, Miss Avery. He's goin' home and agreed to take care of you."

      There was no use of pretending, she thought, and met Bellew's glance directly. "I believe you understand how little I like to put you to this trouble."

      The challenge was there, as she meant it to be. But once again she was left helpless in front of his manner. He only nodded, the same remote amusement in his eyes—they were a darker hazel than she had first imagined—and went directly to the wagon. Obviously he waited for her, and so she followed, accepting his hand-up. He went around, climbed to the seat, and took the reins.

      "You're carryin' a sack of flour for Henry Mitchell," called Townsite.

      Bellew kicked off the brake, leaned down to Townsite. "If anything comes up suddenly," he murmured, "get the news to me." Then the team moved away.

      Townsite chuckled at the departing pair. "She's mad enough at him to chew nails, Mama."

      Mrs. Townsite said firmly:

      "Jackson, she's got a past—you mark my word. I'll bet she's a remittance girl."

      Townsite went stoutly to Nan's defense: "I like her."

      Mrs. Townsite flashed a humorously understanding glance at her husband. "You'd like anything that was helpless. She won't last out here, Jackson."

      "I wouldn't bet on that," said Townsite. "She's a fighter."

      The road climbed a gentle grade and presently tipped into a valley; and it was, Nan thought, like putting away from shore. To right and left—perhaps eight miles in either direction—were low enclosing ridges now being slowly blurred by the haze of summer. Northward at a greater distance lay a high and black pile of hills toward which the tawny-grassed flooring ran in long, slow undulations. The road pointed that way straight as a chalk line. A red sun climbed into a sky that was very blue; one gleaming cloud pillar stood alone. Morning's breeze died, and she felt at once the day's sultriness closing in. Cattle lay scattered and apparently motionless all about the flats. Two miles or more onward she looked back to see the whole distance to town marked by a risen banner of dust that clung cloudily to the air.

      Dan Bellew had so far said nothing. From the corner of her vision she saw him loosely straight on the seat, his bronzed face soberly composed. Now and then his head described a long arc, as if he regularly searched the horizons, and he appeared to be oblivious of her presence. Presumably he had felt her attitude of resentment and meant to respect it. Yet, the situation promised to grow intolerable, even ludicrous; two people could not ride together by the hour and ignore each other. That calm of his was monumental, she thought irritably; yet another reflection, and a fairer one, told her she had set the precedent and so had to make the first overture. Her voice seemed to her to be ridiculously stiff:

      "How far is this place?"

      "About fourteen miles from Trail."

      He had returned the same exact measure of words.

      She told herself, "He's either trying to discipline me or ignore me," and decided to remain silent all the rest of the way. A long time afterward she was a little surprised to hear him talking impersonally:

      "This is plain cattle country, nothing else. Off to the left rear—where you see a slight break in the ridge—is Simon LeBoeuf's ranch. His range comes over as far as this road. Look to the right now and you'll see Gunderson's quarters." His long arm pointed, and she discovered the outlines of grouped houses against the foot of that rightward ridge. "LeBoeuf and Gunderson control all the lower half of the valley. The СКАЧАТЬ