Passin' Through (1985) (6 page)

"I don't know. Never told anybody before. Maybe I wanted you to see I'm not a very nice man."

"Sit down," she said, "don't wait for her. She will be along."

Outside I could hear the clop-clop of horses' hoofs and the creak of a buckboard, but whoever it was did not stop, although it was a long way to Animas City.

Mrs. Hollyrood came out and the two of them talked about the place and about a copy of Scribner's and the ads in it.

There was a guitar standin' in the corner and I was wishful for music but said nothing. It was time I was gettin' on down the road, and as soon as I'd branded some stock and fixed things up, I'd start. I did want my outfit, though, wanted it the worst way.

"Mr. Phillips," Mrs. Hollyrood said, "had many copies of magazines. If you wish anything to read -"

"I'm not much of a reader," I said, ashamed. "I never had much schoolin'."

"But you can read, can't you?"

"A mite, ma'am." I pushed back from the table. "I'm gettin' up early. I better hit the hay."

I started for the door, then thought of what I was doing and went to the side door which opened on darkness and in darkness. I stepped outside. Standin' there I swore softly, bitterly.

Out in the desert or mountains I was all right, but I surely wasn't much account with folks. To tell the truth, I wasn't much of a hand when it come to readin'. Given time I could sort of figure out the words, but I never read in front of folks where they could see me workin' at it.

Seemed like much as I was wishful of readin' I was mostly out on the range or somewhere and books weren't handy. Tracks on a trail were easy for me, and I could read brands, but a newspaper or a book was troublesome.

These were good women, real nice, and I wanted to help, but then I'd best move along down the road. Meanwhile I'd better fight shy of them as much as could be. The mud of human affection could get pretty deep around here and I wasn't of a mind to get myself stuck in it.

The road was white through the blackness. Waiting, I listened. No sound, and then -

Something stirred down there, something moved against the white, then vanished. My hand was close to my gun and I slipped the thong from the hammer.

Where I stood was blackness, but to get to the bunkhouse in the granary I had to cross that white road, and I had a hunch somebody was waitin', just down the trail.

They were stirring about inside, then the light in the kitchen was blown out.

A boot grated on gravel -

Leaning my shoulder against the corner of the house, I put my right hand on my gun. It was a poor light for shootin' but I'd done it before.

Chapter
Six

There was vague light from the bedroom windows upstairs, for the windows were curtained. A soft wind moved a dried leaf across the gravel of the road, and the aspen leaves brushed their pale palms. Somebody or something was out there in the night, something as watchful as I, something waiting.

Waiting for me to move? Waiting to kill me? Or some passing traveler wondering if he should ask for shelter from the already darkened house?

Did he know that only women lived here? Or did he know about me? Was he looking for me?

The wind stirred again, rustling the leaves, and I waited. No sign of a horse. Was he afoot or did he leave his horse back up the road? Or did he hope to steal a horse here?

An Indian? This was Ute country and folks were saying the Utes were mighty unhappy about a lot of things. I knew the Utes. They were tough people, good fighting men and not about to be pushed around by anyone. If they went on the warpath it would mean a lot of good people were going to get hurt.

Yonder in the granary I had a good bed waiting, and I was tired, ready to turn in. My eyes searched the shadows. What I had heard sounded like a boot on gravel, and that meant whoever was out there was not likely to be an Indian.

What this place needed was a good dog, a watchdog who would make himself known. There should be one on the place before I left. A dog right now would know that man was out there and would tell us when people arrived or left.

As for myself I understood my position. If somehow I was shot, nobody would pay much attention. I was a drifter whom nobody knew and about whom nobody cared. My death would be a matter of conversation for a few hours or days depending on what else there was to talk about.

Things had quieted down inside with all the lights out and I believed the womenfolks had gone to bed. My eyes were accustomed to the darkness now and I could make things out pretty good.

Whoever was out there could not know I was outside. He might have seen me go in, he might have seen me through the windows, although I doubted it. I believed he arrived just as I was coming out and when I first heard him. I did not know that, however. Yet, the chances were he believed all here were inside and in bed. Leaning against the corner of the house, I waited while the slow minutes passed. Suddenly the roan blew loudly, and I could see his head was up and he was listening, watching something.

A shadow detached itself from the other shadows and a man stood in the road looking toward the house.

"Whatever you've got in mind," I said, "you'd better forget it. We don't take kindly to prowlers."

He stood very still. He was in the open and I was in deep shadow. He was wearing a narrow brimmed hat and a suit.

"I'm looking for a woman," he said.

"You can prob'ly find one at Parrott City. Just ride west three or four miles an' take the canyon road. It's up the road a piece."

"I don't mean that kind of woman. It is very important that I find her."

"You usually do your lookin' at night? Prowlin' in the dark? A man got himself killed a while back. He fell not ten feet from where you stand. If it was daylight you might see the blood."

"I heard of that." He didn't seem fazed by it, not one bit. This was a cool character. He kept his voice even and low, just as I did, and he hadn't tried to move an inch.

"My advice is to move on down the trail. We got nothing for you here."

"I have it now. You're the man who killed Burrows!"

When I did not reply he shifted his feet, the first move he'd made since I first spoke. "Burrows was said to be quick."

"He thought so."

"You could help me. There'd be fifty dollars in it."

"I've got fifty dollars."

"I've heard there was a woman here, living on this ranch. I want to talk to her."

"Come in the daytime. There's womenfolks on several ranches around here. They're friendly folks, most of them. But they don't take to prowlers."

"I'm not a prowler. I was traveling late."

"We've talked enough. You'd better hit the trail."

"The woman who owns this place? She is a young woman?"

"She's a handsome woman. A lady. I make it a practice never to guess a woman's age. She has beautiful gray hair, if that helps."

"Gray?" His disappointment was obvious.

"You'd better move," I said. "It's past my bedtime. If you have any idea of comin' back, come in the daytime."

"The woman I'm looking for is young -"

"Mister, I don't give a damn who you're lookin' for. I just run out of patience. You light a shuck."

"I'm going. The woman I'm looking for is young, blond, and -"

"Light a shuck," I said.

He started, walked a half-dozen steps, then turned. "I'm a Pinkerton man. I'll be in Parrott City, and the offer stands. Fifty dollars is two months' wages for a cowhand."

He walked away and I listened to his footsteps on the trail until they died away. Shortly after, I heard a horse walking away. Listening until the sound died out, I walked across the road to the granary and turned in.

A Pinkerton man, looking for a young, blond woman? He evidently did not know there were two women here and he had believed the woman he sought owned the ranch. Now why was he looking for Matty, if that was who it was? Detectives often searched for people for other reasons than crimes.

At daylight I walked up the road to where he'd tied his horse. He had come from the east, probably Animas City, and had walked his horse in the grass along the shoulder of the trail until well past the house. He had gotten past the house without my hearing him and had tied his mount, then walked back down, probably to look in the windows. By the time he was close the lights had gone out. He had ridden east when he left, and the closest place would be Parrott City.

Irritated, I walked back to the house and breakfast. I was upset with myself at being so careless as to let a rider pass without my knowing it. A thing like that could get a man killed. It showed what good food and womenfolks could do to a man. Take his mind off the things he'd best pay a mind to.

My breakfast was on the table when I came in but neither of the women was around. I ate alone, hurried it up, and then went outside. I'd planned on makin' a partial count of the cattle on the place, but after that visit last night I figured I'd better stay around the home place. There was plenty to do.

McCarron, the hand Burrows had killed, had rounded up some saddle stock and brought it in to a corral near the barn. They hadn't been ridden much, aside from the two head they kept in the barn for the women to ride. I'd need something to spare the roan, so I saddled up a couple of the broncs in the corral, and although pretty feisty at first they gentled down pretty good. One of them was a black gelding with a white face, and I brought him in for the morning ride.

The roan didn't like it much. He tossed his head and trotted along the corral fence keeping pace with us and wanting to go. As the ranch house was at the lowest place on the ranch, I could ride a good part of the nearby range without getting out of sight of the house. Taking my time, I cleaned out a water hole, stacked some fallen-down branches for firewood, and generally kept a watch on the trail.

A couple of buckboards passed, and a spring wagon coming from the west, evidently headed for Animas City. There was no sign of my visitor of the previous night.

Had he given up? I doubted that, knowing the breed. He would inquire around and come upon some cowboy or miner who knew Matty was living at the ranch. Then he would come back again. The men Pinkerton hired were tough men, and they were stayers. This one had been a cool customer and wasn't going to be stampeded by anyone or anything.

We needed a dog and we needed another man. There'd be times when I wouldn't be around. The trouble was I didn't know anybody in this neck of the woods unless somebody drifted in rustling work. If I was ever going to reclaim my outfit I'd have to get back along the trail and pick it up and pay for the keep of my horses.

Mrs. Hollyrood was in the kitchen when I entered. It was just shy of noon. Matty was nowhere to be seen.

"Are you hungry? Matty made sandwiches, and there's coffee."

"It'll do me." I sat down and she brought a couple of thick sandwiches to the table and poured coffee. "You hear all that talk last night?"

She stopped, coffeepot in hand. "Talk?"

"After you went to bed, when the lights were out. There was a man out there, said he was a Pink. A Pinkerton."

"You mean a dectective? Here?"

The laughter that always seemed to lurk behind her eyes had vanished. The eyes were cool, speculative. "Just what did he want?"

"He was asking about a young woman, a young, blond woman. He seemed to have the idea she was the owner here."

The room was quiet. Hungry, I bit into my sandwich. It was good, mighty good. Mrs. Hollyrood looked out the window, up the road to the east, and what she was thinking I had no idea.

"Did he say why he looked for her?"

"No. The fact is that I sent him on his way. It was late and I was afraid our talking would wake you up, if you were asleep."

"He's gone then?"

"No, ma'am. He'll be back. You understand, I didn't see him in daylight, but that's a tough man. He'll be back until he find what he's lookin' for, whatever that is."

"A young, blond woman? Did he describe Matty? Did he have a name?"

"He didn't have time."

Her face was partly turned from me and I could read nothing in it. If she was scared or worried she did not show it at all.

"Ma'am? Over there where they tried to hang me I left an outfit. I mean I had two horses and some gear, tools, bedding, an' such. One of these days I'm going to ride over there and pick it up."

"You'll be gone then?"

"For a few days. I reckon a week. When I rode over this away I was travelin' mighty fast. I figured there'd be a posse right behind me and I stretched out. That roan, I love that horse, ma'am, that roan did what would have killed most horses. I wasn't makin' any great show of it but I was putting a lot of country behind me. What I covered in two days an' most of a night would take me easy four days riding sensible."

"We will miss you, and I wish - I wish you'd not leave for a day or two. I mean with this detective ... I don't know what to think about him. I wish you'd stay on."

"That I can do."