Campbell's Kingdom (31 page)

The first person I woke was Jean and I gave Moses into her care, avoiding meeting her gaze as I told her briefly what had happened. I was scared of the reproach I knew must be in her eyes. She loved that dog. After that I woke Garry.

I think that was one of the hardest things I ever had to do, to tell Garry that two of his trucks were gone and all his fuel. I knew what he'd think—that I had started the rough stuff, that I had invited this raid. He didn't say anything when I had finished, but put on his clothes and strode out into the storm. I followed him.

When he'd looked at the damage he said, ‘Well, I hope the insurance company pay up, that's all.' We went into the hut then. ‘Cigarette?' He thrust the packet towards me. As we lit up he said, ‘It might have been worse, I guess. The whole rig could have gone.' He leaned back and closed his eyes, drawing on his cigarette. ‘We're down just over four thousand two hundred. Fortunately the rig tank was filled up yesterday. There's probably two hundred gallons or so in it. That'll get us down to about four thousand five hundred. With luck we'll only need another seven hundred gallons—say a thousand.' He had been talking to himself, but now he opened his eyes and looked across at me. ‘Any idea how we'll get a thousand gallons of fuel up here?'

‘We'll have to bring it in by the pony trail,' I said.

‘Hmm. Twenty gallons to a pony; that means fifty ponies. Know where you can get fifty ponies? It'll make the cost about a dollar a gallon. That's a thousand bucks and I'm broke. Can you raise a thousand bucks?'

There was nothing I could say. His big frame looked crumpled and tired. An hour later the morning shift came on. They stood and stared at the gutted trucks, talking in low, excited whispers. ‘Well, what are you waiting for?' Garry shouted at them. ‘Get the rig going.'

He remained with them and I walked slowly back to the ranch-house, hearing the clatter of the drill behind me, very conscious that they could go on drilling for just over a week and then we'd have to close down.

Jean was still up as I staggered wearily in. ‘How's Moses?' I asked as I pulled off my wet clothes.

‘He'll be all right,' she said and went through into the kitchen. She came back with a mug of tea. ‘Drink that,' she said.

‘What about Moses?' I said, taking the mug. ‘Is his shoulder all right?'

‘The bone's not broken, if that's what you mean. It's just a flesh wound. He'll be all right.'

I drank the tea and flung myself into a chair. She brought in logs and built the fire up into a blaze. ‘Hungry?'

I nodded. And then I fell asleep and she had to wake me when she brought in a plate of bacon and fried potatoes. She sat down opposite me, watching me as I began to eat. Moses came in, moving stiffly, and sat himself beside me, licking my hand much as to say, ‘Sorry I didn't get the bastard for you.' I stared down, fondling his head. And then I gave him the plate of food. Suddenly I didn't feel like eating. Instead I lit a cigarette and watched the dog as he cleared the plate.

There was a dry sob and I looked across the table to see Jean staring at me, tears in her eyes. She turned quickly as our eyes met and went out into the kitchen. I got to my feet and went over to the window. The snow had stopped now. Dawn had broken and the wisps of ragged cloud were lifting and breaking up. Even as I watched, the clouds drew apart from the face of Solomon's Judgment. I went out to the barn where I slept, got my things together and took them across to the stables. As I was saddling up Jean came in. ‘What are you going to do?' she asked.

‘Get on to Johnnie,' I said. ‘See if he'll pack the fuel up for us.'

‘You're going alone?'

‘Yes.'

She hesitated and then went back to the house. Before I'd finished saddling, however, she returned, dressed for the trail. ‘What's the idea?' I said. ‘There's no point in your coming with me.'

She didn't say anything, but got out her pinto and flung the saddle on it. I tried to dissuade her, but all she said was, ‘You're in no state to go down on your own.'

‘What about Moses?'

‘Moses will be all right. And the boys can cook for themselves for a day or so.'

Something in the set of her face warned me not to argue with her. I had an uneasy feeling that her coming with me was inevitable, a necessary part of the future. I scribbled a note for Garry, left it on the table in the living-room and then we rode up the mountainside. It was quiet in the timber, a quiet that was full of an aching, damp cold. And when we emerged the mist had clamped down again. We rode in silence, forcing the reluctant horses forward. At times we had to lead them, particularly near the top where the mist was freezing and coating the rocks with a thin layer of ice. Then suddenly there was a breath of wind on our faces and the white miasma of the mist began to swirl in an agitated manner. A rent appeared, a glimpse of the Kingdom and of the rig with the two burnt-out trucks, and then as though a screen had been lifted bodily the whole mountainside was suddenly visible and there was the Saddle and beyond it the nearer peak of Solomon's Judgment.

It was fortunate for us that the mist did clear for the trail over the Saddle was not an easy one and in places it was difficult to follow. It was dangerous, too, for a slight deviation at the top brought one out on to the edge of a sheer drop of several hundred feet. It is possible that the fact that I have described several trips made over this trail will give the impression that it was straightforward. In good weather conditions this would certainly be true. But these are the Rocky Mountains, and though not particularly high, the great mass of mountains together with the wide variations in climatic conditions, particularly of humidity, between the coast and the prairies to the east, makes them very uncertain as regards weather and subject to great extremes of conditions. At this altitude, for instance, there is not a month in the year when it does not snow and storms can come upon the traveller with astonishing rapidity if he is not high enough up to get an unobstructed view of the sky.

Having started so early we were down into the timber again before ten. Jean insisted on a rest here and we sat on a deadfall and ate the biscuits and cheese which she had very thoughtfully included in her pack. I was very tired after my sleepless night and extremely depressed. We had not yet drilled deep enough for me to feel any of the excitement that is inherent in drilling when the bit is approaching the probable area of oil. Without fuel success was as remote as ever and I cursed myself for not having foreseen the most probable means by which Trevedian would get back at us.

‘What do you plan to do when we get down into the valley?' Jean asked suddenly.

I looked at her in surprise. ‘Phone Johnnie,' I said. ‘I can always get him through Jeff.'

‘Where are you going to phone from?'

‘The Golden Calf, of course. Mac will—' I stopped then for she was laughing at me. It wasn't a natural laugh. It was half bitter, half contemptuous. ‘What's the matter?'

‘Don't you understand what you did when you blew the Thunder Valley road? You'd get battered to pulp if you went into Come Lucky now.'

‘Who by—Trevedian?' I asked.

‘Of course not. By the boys you fooled. You actually got some of them to help you load the trucks on to the hoist, didn't you?' I nodded. ‘Trevedian was pretty sarcastic when he hauled them over the coals for being such mutts. If any of those boys got their hands on you—' She shrugged her shoulders. ‘That's why I came up to the Kingdom, to stop you walking into a bad beating up.'

‘Sort of nursemaid, eh?' I felt, suddenly, violently angry. What right had this girl to act as though she were responsible for me? ‘Pity you weren't around last night. You might have saved me from making a fool of myself, which would have been more to the point.'

‘You'll have to ride into Keithley and phone from there,' she said quietly.

‘I'll do no such thing.' I got abruptly to my feet and went over to my horse. ‘The nearest phone is at the Golden Calf and that's where I'm going.'

She didn't attempt to argue. She just shrugged her shoulders and swung herself up into the saddle. ‘I'll pick up the pieces,' she said.

The sun was shining as we rode up the hill to Come Lucky. The door of Trevedian's office was open. He must have seen us coming for as we drew level he came to the door and stood there watching us, leaning against the jamb and smoking a cheroot. His skin was the colour of mahogany against the white of his nylon shirt, and he wore scarlet braces. No words were exchanged between us, but out of the corners of my eyes I could see he was smiling. I wondered how long he had sat at his desk with the door open watching for me to come down the trail from the Kingdom.

We met nobody in the sun-drenched street. The place seemed dead as though the whole population were up working on the dam. We tied our horses to the hotel rail and Jean led me in by the back way. Pauline stared at us as we entered and then there was the rasp of a chair and James McClellan stormed towards me, his face scowling with sudden anger. ‘I've been wanting to have a word with you, Wetheral, for a long time.' His fists were clenched. His eyes were cold and there was an ugly set to his jaw.

There was only one thing to do. ‘Was it you or Trevedian—or both of you—who set fire to our trucks last night?'

He stopped in his tracks. ‘What's that? Are you trying to swing something on—'

‘I'm not swinging anything on you,' I said. ‘I'm just asking you, McClellan—were you in on it?'

‘In on what?' He had halted. Pauline had hold of his arm. Her face was white. They were both staring at me.

‘There's about two thousand gallons of fuel gone up and two trucks. Shots were fired. You're damn lucky it was only a dog that got hit.' I turned towards the office. ‘Mind if I use the phone?'

‘You brought it on yourself,' he said. ‘If you phone the police, then Trevedian will report what happened—'

‘I'm not phoning the police,' I said over my shoulder. ‘I'm phoning for more fuel.'

The office was empty. I got hold of the phone and put a personal call through to Jeff Hart at Jasper. Then I sat there, waiting, feeling sleep creeping up on me, trying to keep myself awake. I heard voices in the kitchen and than a door slammed and all was quiet. Half an hour later my call came through and I explained to Jeff Hart what had happened. He couldn't get away himself, but he'd talk to Johnnie and ring me back in the evening.

I went out into the kitchen then. It was empty. I sat down in the chair by the stove and went to sleep. It was Pauline who woke me. She had made me some coffee and there was a plate full of bacon and eggs waiting for me. ‘You shouldn't have bothered,' I murmured sleepily.

‘It is no trouble.'

‘Where's Jean?'

The corners of her mouth turned down and she gave a slight shrug—a very Latin gesture. ‘She is with Miss Garret, I think.' She came and sat near me as I ate, watching me with her big, dark eyes. ‘You look tired.'

‘I am tired,' I said. ‘I was up all night.'

She nodded slowly, understandingly.

‘Jean told you what happened?'

‘
Oui
. I am very sorry.' She smiled, a flash of white teeth. I am sorry also that you do not stay. But it is dangerous for you.'

‘I'll have to stay till this evening. I'm waiting for a call.'

‘No, no. It is dangerous, I tell you.'

I looked at her, a mood of frustration and annoyance taking hold of me. ‘Another nursemaid, eh?'

‘Please?'

‘It doesn't matter.'

Jean came in then. ‘We must go now, Bruce. There are some men coming up from the bunkhouse. I think Trevedian sent them up.'

I explained about the phone call. But all she said was, ‘Do you want to get beaten up?'

‘You think I'm no good in a scrap?'

She hesitated fractionally. ‘You've been ill,' she said. ‘I don't think you're very strong.' She must have guessed what I was thinking for she added, ‘The way you handled Jimmy won't work with them.'

She was right, of course, but it went against the grain to appear a coward. And yet it wouldn't do any good. Reluctantly I got to my feet. Pauline suddenly touched my arm. ‘I will take your call for you, if you wish.'

‘That's kind of you, Pauline,' Jean said.

I hesitated, feeling caught in the web of a woman's world, feeling like a skunk. ‘All right,' I said and told her what I wanted to say. ‘If he can come arrange where I can meet him. Okay?'

She nodded, smiling. ‘Okay. I will leave a message for you with Miss Garret.'

I thanked her and we went out the back way and round to the front to get our horses. There were about a dozen men coming up the street, a rough-looking bunch headed by a man I recognised, the man who had been on guard at the hoist the night we ran the rig up to the Kingdom. He was a little fellow with bandy legs and a mean face. He had been cowed when I had seen him before, but now, backed up by the men behind him, he had a cocky air. ‘That's him,' he shouted. ‘That's the bastard.' And he began to run towards us. The others followed at his heels and they were almost on us as we unhitched our ponies and swung into the saddle. I heeled my animal into a canter and side by side we drove through them. But as I passed, the fellow shouted a remark. It wasn't aimed at me. It was aimed at Jean. It was just one word and without thinking I reined up and swung round. I caught a glimpse of the colour flaring in Jean's face as she called to me to ride on.

The whole bunch of them were laughing now and thus emboldened the little bow-legged swine called out, ‘Why d'yer keep her all to yerselves? Why don't yer let her visit us—alternate nights, say?' He leered at Jean and then let his filthy tongue run riot with further and more detailed abuse.