Riders Of the Dawn (1980) Page 5

  I said, aware of the sudden tension her presence alway s inspired.

  She was looking toward the foundation we had laid fo r the new house. It was on a hill with the long sweep o f Cottonwod Wash before it. “You should be more careful,” s he said. “You had a visitor last night.”

  “We just took over last night,” I objected. “Who do yo u mean?”

  “Morgan. He was out here shortly after our boys go t home. They met the bunch you stampeded from here.-

  “He’s been puzzling me,” I admitted. “Who is he? Di d he come from around here?”

  “I don’t know. He’s not talkative, but I’ve heard hi m mention places back east. I know he’s been in Philadelphi a and New York, but nothing else about him except that h e goes to Salt Lake and San Francisco occasionally.”

  “Not back east?”

  “Never since we’ve known him.”

  “You like him?”

  She looked up at me. “Yes, Morgan can be very wonderful. He knows a lot about women and the things that pleas e them.” There was a flicker of laughter in her eyes. “He probably doesn’t know as much about them as you.”

  “Me?” I was astonished. “What gave you that idea?”

  “Your approach that first day. You knew it would excit e my curiosity, a man less sure of himself would never hav e dared. If you knew no more about women than most wester n men you would have hung back, wishing you could meet me , or you would have got drunk to work up your courage.”

  “I meant what I said that day. You re going to marr y me.”

  “Don’t say that. Don’t even think it. You’ve no idea wha t you are saying or what it would mean.”

  “Because of your father?” I looked at her. “Or Morga n Park?”

  “You take him too lightly, Matt. I think he is utterl y without scruple. I believe he would stop at nothing.”

  There was more to come, and I was interested.

  “There was a young man here from the East,” she continued, “and I liked him. Knowing Morgan, I never mentioned him in Morgan’s presence. Then one day he asked m e about him. He added that it would be better for all concerned if the man did not come around anymore. Inadvertently I mentioned the young man’s name, Arnold D’Arcy.

  “When he heard that name he became very disturbed.

  Who was he? Why had he come here? Had he asked an y questions about anybody? Or described anybody he might b e looking for? He asked me all those questions, but at the sam e time I thought little about it. Afterwards I began to believ e that he was not merely jealous. Right then I decided to tel l Arnold about it when he returned.”

  “And did you?”

  There was a shadow of worry on her face. “No. He neve r came again.” She looked quickly at me. “I’ve often thought o f it. Morgan never mentioned him again, but somehow Arnol d hadn’t seemed like a man who would frighten easily.”

  Later, when she was mounting to leave, I asked her , “Where was D’Arcy from? Do you remember?”

  “Virginia, I believe. He had served in the Army an d before coming west had been working in Washington.”

  Watching her go, I thought again of Morgan Park. He might have frightened D’Arcy away, but I could not shake of f the idea that something vastly more sinister lay behind it.

  And Park had been close to us during the night. If he ha d wanted to kill me, it could have been done, but apparentl y he wanted me alive. Why?

  “Mulvaney,” I suggested, “if you can hold this place, I’l l ride to Silver Reef and get off a couple of messages.”

  He stretched his huge arms and grinned at me. “Do yo u doubt it? I’ll handle it or them. Go, and have yourself a time.”

  And in the morning I was in the saddle again.

  Chapter 6

  High noon, and a mountain shaped like flame. Beyond th e mountain and around it was a wide land with no horizons, bu t only the shimmering heat waves that softened all lines t o vagueness and left the desert an enchanted land withou t beginning and without end.

  As I rode, my mind studied the problem created by th e situation around Cottonwood Wash. There were at least thre e and possibly four sides to the question. Rud Maclaren wit h his Bar M, Jim Pinder with his CP, and myself with the Tw o Bar. The fourth possibility was Morgan Park.

  Olga’s account of Arnold D’Arcy’s disappearance ha d struck a chord of memory. During ten years of my life I ha d been fighting in foreign wars, and there had been a militar y observer named D’Arcy, a Major Leo D’Arcy, who had bee n in China during the fighting there. It stuck in my mind tha t he had a brother named Arnold.

  It was a remote chance, yet a possiblity. Why did th e name upset Park? What had become of Arnold? Where di d Park come from? Pinder could be faced with violence an d handled with violence. Maclaren might be circumvented.

  Morgan Park worried me.

  Silver Reef lay sprawled in haphazard comfort along a main street and a few cross streets. There were the usua l frontier saloons, stores, churches, and homes. The sign o n the Elk Horn Saloon caught my attention. Crossing to it I p ushed through the door into the dim interior. While th e bartender served me, I glanced around, liking the feel of th e place.

  “Rye?” The smooth-pated bartender squinted at me.

  “Uh-huh. How’s things in the mines?”

  “So-so. But you ain’t no miner.” He glanced at m y cowhand’s garb and then at the guns in their tied-dow n holsters. ‘This here’s a quiet town. We don’t see many gu n handlers around here. The place for them is over east o f here.”

  “Hattan’s?”

  “Yeah. I hear the Bar M an’ CP both are hirin’ hands.

  Couple of hombres from there rode into town a few days ago.

  One of ‘em was the biggest man I ever did see.”

  Morgan Park in Silver Reef! That sounded interesting , but I kept a tight rein on my thoughts and voice. “Did he sa y anything about what was going’ on over there?”

  Not to me. The feller with him, though, he was inquirin’ a round for the Slade boys. Gunslicks both of them. The bi g feller, he never come in here atall. I seen him on the street a couple of times, but he went to the Wells Fargo Bank an d down the street to see that shyster, Jake Booker.

  “You don’t seem to like Booker?”

  “Him? He’s plumb no good! The man’s a crook!”

  Once started on Booker, the bartender told me a lot.

  Morgan Park had been in town before, but never came to th e Elk Horn. He confined his visits to the back room of a div e called the Sump or occasional visits to the office of Jak e Booker. The only man who ever came with him was Lyell.

  Leaving the saloon, I sent off my telegram to Leo D’Arcy.

  Then I located the office of Booker, spotted the Sump, an d considered the situation. Night came swiftly and miner s crowded the street, a good-natured shoving, pushing, laughing throng, jamming the saloons and drinking. The crow d relaxed me with its rough good humor, and for the night I fel l into it, drifting, joking, listening.

  Turning off the street near Louder’s store I passed th e street lamp on the corner and for an instant was outlined i n its radiance. From the shadows, flame stabbed. There was a tug at my sleeve, and then my own gun roared, and as th e shot sped, I went after it.

  A man lunged from the side of the store and ran staggeringly toward the alley behind it. Pistol ready, I ran after hi m He wheeled, slipped, and was running again. He brought u p with a crash against the corral bars and fell. He was crawlin g to his feet, and I caught a glimpse of his face in the glow fro m the window. It was Lyell.

  One hand at his throat, I jerked him erect. His face wa s gaunt, and there was blood on his shirtfront. He had been hi t hard by my sudden, hardly aimed shot. “Got you, didn’t I?”

  “Yes, damn you, an’ I missed. Put—put me down.

  Lowering him to the ground, I dropped to one knee.

  “I’ll get a doctor. I saw a sign up the street.”

  He grabbed my sleeve
. “Ain’t no use. I feel it. You go t me good. Anyway—” he stared at me—“why should you get a doc for me?”

  “I shouldn’t. You were in the gang killed Ball.”

  His eyes bulged. “No! No, I wasn’t there! He was a goo d old man! I wasn’t in that crowd.”

  “Was Morgan Park there?”

  His eyes changed, veiled. “Why would he be there?

  That wasn’t his play.”

  “What’s he seeing Booker for? What about Sam Slade?”

  Footsteps crunched on the gravel, and a man carrying a lantern came up the alley. “Get a doctor, will you? Thi s man’s been shot.”

  The man started off at a run, and Lyell lay quiet, a tough, unshaven man with brown eyes. He breathed hoarsel y for several minutes while I uncovered the wound. Then h e spoke. “The Slades are to get Canaval. Park wants you fo r himself.”

  “What does he want? Range?”

  “No. He—he wants money.”

  The doctor hurried up with the lantern carrier. Watching him start work, I backed away and disappeared in th e darkness. If anybody knew anything about Park’s plans i t would be Booker, and I had an idea I could get into Booker’s office.

  Booker’s office was on the second floor of a frame building reached by an outside stairway. Once up there, a ma n would be fairly trapped if anyone came up those stairs. Dow n the street a music box was jangling, and the town showed n o signs of going to sleep. Studying that stairway, I liked no par t of it. Booker had many friends here, but I had none, an d going up there would be a risk. Then I remembered all th e other times I’d had no friends, so I hitched my guns easier o n my thighs and went across the street. *

  Going up the steps two at a time, I paused at the door.

  Locks were no problem to a man of my experience, and a minute later I was inside a dark office, musty with stal e tobacco. Swiftly, I checked the tray on the desk, the to p drawer, and then the side drawers, lighting my exploratio n with a stump of candle. Every sense alert, ears attuned to th e slightest sound, I worked rapidly, suddenly coming to a n assayer’s report. No location was mentioned and no notatio n was on the sheet, but the ore had been rich, amazingly rich.

  Then among some older papers at the bottom of a drawer I f ound a fragment of a letter from Morgan Park, signed wit h his name.

  You have been recommended to me as a man o f discretion who could turn over a piece of property for a quick profit and who could handle negotiations with a buyer. I am writing for an appointment and will be i n Silver Reef on the 12th. It is essential that this busines s remain absolutely confidential.

  It was little enough, but a hint. I left the assayer’s repor t but pocketed the letter. The long ride had tired me, for m y wounds, while much improved, had robbed me of strength.

  Dousing the candle, I returned it to its shelf. And then I h eard a low mutter of voices and steps on the stair!

  Backing swiftly, I glanced around and saw a closed doo r that must lead to an inner room. Stepping through it I close d it just in time. It was a rosin used for storage. Voices sounde d and a door closed. A match scratched, and light showe d under the door. “Nonsense! Probably got in some drunke n brawl! You’re too suspicious, Morgan.”

  “Maybe, but the man worries me. He rides too much , and he may get to nosing around and finding something.”

  “Did you see Lyell before he died?”

  “No. He shot first, though. Some fool saw him take a bead on somebody. This other fellow followed it up and kille d him.”

  The crabbed voice of Booker interrupted. “Forget him.

  Forget Sabre. My men are lined up, and they have the col d cash ready to put on the line! We haven’t any time for child’s play! I’ve done my part, and now it’s up to you! Get Sabr e out of the way and get rid of Maclaren!”

  “That’s not so easy,” Park objected stubbornly. -Maclare n is never alone, and if anybody ever shot at him he’d turn th e country upside down to find the man. And after he is killed , the minute we step in suspicion will be diverted to us.”

  “Nonsense!” Booker replied irritably. “Nobody know s we’ve had dealings. They’ll have to settle the estate, and I’l l step in as the representative of the buyers. Of course, if yo u were married to the girl it would simplify things. What’s th e matter? Sabre cutting in there, too?”

  “Shut up!” Park’s voice was ugly. “If you ever say a thin g like that again, I’ll wring you out like a dirty towel, Booker. I m ean it.-

  “You do your part,” Booker said, “and I’ll do mine. Th e buyers have the money and they are ready. They won’t wai t forever.”

  A chair scraped, and Park’s heavy step went to the doo r and out. There was a faint squeak of a cork twisting in a bottl e neck and the gurgle of a poured drink. Then the bottle an d glass were returned to the shelf. The light vanished and a door closed. Then footsteps grated on the gravel below. Onl y a minute behind him, I hurried from the vicinity. Then I p aused, sweating despite the cool air. Thinking of what I’d heard, I retrieved my horse and slipped quietly out of town.

  Bedded down among the clustering cedars, I thought of tha t and then of Olga, the daughter of Maclaren, of her soft lips , the warmth of her arms, the quick, proud lift of her chin.

  Coming home to Cottonwood Wash and the Two Ba r with the wind whispering through the greasewood and rustling the cottonwood leaves, I kept a careful watch but sa w nobody until Mulvaney himself stepped into sight.

  “Had any trouble?” I asked him.

  “Trouble? None here,” he replied. “Some men came by , but the sound of my Spencer drove them away again.” He walked to the door. “There’s grub on the table. How was it i n Silver Reef?”

  “A man killed.”

  “Be careful, lad. There’s too many dying.-

  When I had explained, he nodded. “Do they know it wa s you?”

  “I doubt it.” It felt good to be back on my own plac e again, seeing the white-faced cattle browsing in the pastur e below, seeing the water flowing to irrigate the small garde n we’d started.

  “You’re tired.” Mulvaney studied me. “But you look fit.

  You’ve thrown a challenge in the teeth of Park. You’ll b e backing it up?”

  “Backing it up?” My eyes must have told what was i n me. “That’s one man I want, Mulvaney! He had me dow n and beat me, and I’ll not live free until I whip him or h e whips me fair!”

  “He’s a power of man, lad. I’ve seen him lift a barrel o f whiskey at arm’s length overhead. It will be a job to whi p him.”

  “Ever box any, Mulvaney? You told me you’d wrestle d Cornish style.”

  “What Irishman hasn’t boxed a bit? Is it a sparrin’ mat e you’re wantin’? Sure an’ it would be good to get the leathe r on my maulies again.”

  For a week we were at it. Every night we boxed, lightl y at first, then faster. He was a brawny man, a fierce slugge r and a powerful man in the clinches. On the seventh day w e did a full thirty minutes without a break. And in the succeeding days my strength returned and my speed grew greater.

  The rough and tumble part of it I loved. Nor was I worrie d about Morgan knowing more tricks than I—the waterfront s are the place to learn the dirty side of fighting. I would us e everything I’d learned there, if Morgan didn’t fight fair.

  It was after our tenth session with the gloves tha t Mulvaney stripped them off and shook his head admiringly.

  “Faith, lad, you’ve a power of muscle behind that wallop o f yours! That last one came from nowhere and I felt it clean t o my toes! Never did I believe a man lived that could hit lik e that!”

  “Thanks,” I said. “I’m ridin’ to town tomorrow.”

  “To fight him?”

  “No, to see the girl, Olga Maclaren, to buy supplies, an d perhaps to ride him a little. I want him furious before w e fight. I want him mad, mad and wild.”

  He nodded wisely at me. “It’ll help, for no man can figh t unless he keeps his head. But be careful, lad. Remembe r
they are gunnin’ for you, an’ there’s nothin’ that would bette r please them than to see you dead on the ground.”

  When the buckskin was watered I returned him to th e hitch rail and walked into the saloon. Hattan’s Point kne w that Lyell was dead, but they had no idea who had done it.

  Key Chapin was the first man I met, and I looked at him , wondering on which side he stood.

  He looked at me curiously and motioned toward th e chair across the table from him. Dropping into it, I began t o build a smoke. “Well, Sabre, you’re making quite a name fo r yourself.

  I shrugged. “That’s not important. All I want is a ranch.”

  “All?”

  “And a girl.”

  “One may be as hard to get as the other.”

  “Maybe. Anyway, I’ve made a start on the ranch. In fact , I have the ranch and intend to keep it.”

  “Heard about Lyell?”

  “Killed, wasn’t he? Somewhere west of here?”

  “At Silver Reef. It’s a peaceful, quiet town in spite o f being a boomtown. And they have a sheriff over there wh o believes in keeping it peaceful. They tell me he is workin g hard to find out who killed Lyell.”

  “It might be anybody. There was a rumor that he wa s one of the men in the raid on the Ball ranch.”

  “And which you promised to bury on the spot.”

  What this was building to I did not know, but I wa s anxious to find out just where Chapin stood. He would be a good friend to have, and a bad enemy, for his paper had a good deal of influence around town.

  “You told me when I first came here that the town wa s taking sides. Which is your side?”

  He hesitated, toying with his glass. “That’s a harde r question to answer since you came,” he replied frankly. “I w ill say this. I am opposed to violence. I believe now is th e time to establish a peaceful community, and I believe it ca n be done. For that reason I am opposed to the CP outfit , whose code is violence.”

  “And Maclaren?”

  He hesitated again. “Maclaren can be reasoned with a t times. Stubborn, yes, but only because he has an exaggerate d view of his own rightness. It is not easy to prove him wrong , but it can be done.”