Monument Rock (Ss) (1998) (24 page)

Chapter
2

At the corral bars she slid from the saddle as if stunned
,
then stood for a long time, stari
ng at the far blue line of the
cliffs
from which she had just come.'

P
oke Markham was not her father!

The thought stood stark and cle
ar in her mind, writte
n
across her consciousn
ess in black, staring letters.

After the first minutes of stunned disbelief had come the uneasy memories which sh
e
had put aside and tried to
forget. They came flooding into her mind. Little things and haunting details tha
t
had made her unhappy and puzzled.

The vague memorie
s of her father before she went
away to school had always been confused. Someho
w
she'd never been able to sort them out, to shape them into any plain picture. Sh
e
knew now the reason for that confusion; it was that the memories of two individuals
,
two separate men, had mingled in her mind. This was why whenever she looked bac
k
to those years, the face of her father was always blurred, never sharp and clear.

The strange rider had said he was her real father's friend, that her mother had bee
n
a fine, sweet woman.

It was that last that flooded her mind with relief, for always when she had aske
d
Poke Dunning about her mother, he had put her aside, evaded the issue, and so finall
y
she had come to believe there was something shameful in her past, something in he
r
story of which her father did not wish to be reminded. Lona had come to believe tha
t
her mother must have done something that had hurt and disgraced them both. Now sh
e
knew that was not true.

She knew?

Lona stopped at the thought, testing it, turning it over. Yes, she did know. Th
e
Rider was a stranger to her, and yet his voice had in it the ring of truth, and i
t
was not only because she wanted so much to believe that her mother had been a fine
,
splendid woman, but simply because she knew it was the truth.

Now that the thought was there, a thousand minute details of the past came floodin
g
back. Now she no longer had to fight the idea that she detested the man she had believe
d
was her father. Always she had made excuses for him, avoided the question of hi
s
character and his little cruelties. Now she could face it, and she could wonder tha
t
she had ever believed him to be her father.

She remembered how few his letters had been, how she had never had from him any o
f
the love or affection she wanted or that other girls had, how she had returne
d
home on her first vacations with eagerness and then with increasing reluctance.

Stripping the saddle from the mare, Lona turned her into the corral. It was alread
y
past mealtime, and the hands were gone again. Rusty Gates was nowhere around, no
r
did she see Poke or Frank. She walked to the house and looked into the kitchen. Ol
d
Dave Betts looked up and his red face wrinkled in a smile. "You're late, ma'am, bu
t
come on in. I saved you something and kept it hot for you."

"Thanks, Dave."

!' He put out the food on the kitchen table. He was already preparing the evenin
g
meal, getting a few things ready in order to save time later. He glanced at Lona.

"You aren't sick, are you?" he asked anxiously.

"No, Dave. Just thinking." She started to eat, but despite the long ride in the fresh
,
clear air, she was not hungry. "Dave," she asked suddenly, "how long have you worke
d
for... Father?"

" If he noticed her hesitation, he gave no sign or it made no impression. "Most o
f
six years, ma'am. I come up to this country from Silver City. Went to Cimarron first
,
worked in a eatin' place there, then went back to punchin' cows for the XIT, the
n
drifted back west an' come here. Poke Markham needed a cook, so I hired on. I wa
s
gettin' too stove up for ridin' much."

"Was Frank with him then?"

"Mailer?" Betts's face became cautious. "Well, no. No, ma'am, he wasn't. Frank didn'
t
show up until shortly be fore you come home from school. He rode in here one day
with Socorro an' they both hired on. Mailer, though, he'd knowed your dad somewher
e
else. That's why he hired him on as foreman."

"Is he really a gunman?" Lona looked up at Dave.

Betts swallowed uneasily and, stepping to the door, peered into the dining room
,
then outside. "I reckon there's no mystery about that. He sure is. Mighty bad ...

I mean, mighty good with a gun. So's Geslin." He looked at her quickly. "You bette
r
not ask many questions about him, ma'am. Mailer's right touchy about that. He don'
t
like folks talkin' about him."

There was a sound of approaching horses and Lona glanced out the open door. Gordo
n
Flynn and Rusty Gates had ridden into the yard and were swinging down. Flynn glance
d
toward the door, and when he saw her, he waved, then said something to Rusty an
d
walked toward the house.

"Howdy, ma'am!" he said, his boyish face flushing a little. He had removed his ha
t
and stood there, his wavy hair damp along his forehead where the hat had left a mark.

The admiration in his eyes was obvious. "See you had been ridin' some. Why didn'
t
you come over to the north range to see us?"

"Just riding," she said. "It was a pretty day for it and I wanted to think."

"I reckon there's no better way," he agreed. "It sort of just make
s
a body think, ridin' slow across the hills with lots of distance around you." H
e
stepped into the room. "Dave, you got more of that coffee? Rusty an' me ... ?"

"It ain't grub time," Dave said testily, "but you pull up a chair. I reckon I ca
n
do that for you, but! doubt if the boss would like either of you being' here righ
t
now."

Rusty came into the room and took a quick, sharp look at Lona. He seemed satisfie
d
with what he saw, and turned to Dave. "We have to go down to Yellow Butte after som
e
cows and this was on our way. Drink up, Gord, and don't sit there looking calf-eye
d
at Miss Lona."

Flynn blushed magnificently. "Who's lookin' calf-eyed?"
h
e demanded, blustering. "Can't a man speak to a girl without folks sayin' thing
s
like that?"

Gates turned a chair back to the table and straddled it, grinning from one to th
e
other. "Don't know's I blame you," he said. "She's a right pretty girl, and believ
e
you me, if I was as good-looking as you are and not so durned bowlegged, I'd sur
e
say my piece, too!" Flynn's face was grim. "You're new around here," he"
s
aid. "Miss Lona is engaged to the foreman."

Gates shrugged and looked pointedly at Lona. "When did a man ever let a thing lik
e
that stand between him and the girl he wanted? It sure wouldn't stop me!"

"Don't you be advisin' that sort of thing!" Betts turned irritably to Gates. "Yo
u
don't know Frank Mailer! Any- I
f
body who steps on his toes or tries to move in on his girl had better be fast wit
h
a gun! He durned near killed one o
f
the hands with his fists and boots just for talkin' to her!"'

"Then I'll be careful," Gates said. Gulping his coffee, he shoved back from his chai
r
and got up. "I just wouldn't let him catch me. But if I wanted a girl, I wouldn'
t
stand by and see her go to another man, unless I was right sure she wanted that othe
r
man." He turned on his heel and walked out, letting the door slam behind him.

The kitchen was silent. Flynn was staring into his cup, and Lona's heart was pounding
,
why she could not have said. Glancing up, she could see the stubborn, angry loo
k
on Flynn's face and the sharp disapproval on the face of Dave Betts. After a minut
e
Flynn swallowed his coffee and ducked out without saying another word.

Lona gathered the dishes and placed them on the drain board, stealing a glance a
t
Betts's face from the corner of her eyes. "You be careful," Dave said suddenly, withou
t
turning. "You don't know Frank Mailer like I do. Don't you let no fool puncher tal
k
you into trouble."

Lona hesitated. "What's the matter, don't you think Gordon is a nice fellow?"

Dave Betts turned sharply. "I sure do, ma'am. Flynn's one of the finest boys I know
,
an' he's a top hand, too. He's worth any four like Geslin or Starr, but he's to
o
nice a boy to see shot to doll rags, ma'am, or to see stomped to bloody ruin lik
e
I've seen men stomped right here on this ranch!"

The canyon where Lona had come upon the Black Rider had several branches, all bo
x
canyons. There was, however, a trail to the rim if one knew the way and rode a goo
d
mountain horse. Not far up this steep trail there was a ledge that made a sharp tur
n
around a jutting corner of rock. Here, in an almost hidden corner of rock, was
a
wide shelf, all of fifty yards across and something more in length. It was conceale
d
from the canyon below by pinons, so that from below one would believe the cliff wa
s
unbroken. From above, due to a steep slide that broke off in the sheer drop, ther
e
was no way of approaching the ledge or looking down into the rocky niche.

Here, in this secret place, was good green grass and a thin trickle of water fro
m
a spring. At the back end of the niche was a deep undercut in which cliff dweller
s
had built several houses, walling part of the undercut with stone. In this hidde
n
place the Rider had his retreat.

Dismounting, he stripped the saddle and bridle from the horse and let it go on
a
long picket rope. There was grass enough here, and water. From the look of the place
,
it had never been visited since the Indians had gone, yet one never knew. No bette
r
hiding place could be found, and here, he hoped, he was secure.

His rides over the country had given him a fair knowledge of the lay of the land, and he had been watching th
e
Blue Hill ranch through his glasses and knew the dail
y
procedure, yet despite the progress he had made that day
i
n his talk with Lona Markham, he was restless, and h
e
knew why. He wanted to see Nita.

She should never have come here, he knew. He had tried to convince her that the jo
b
was his alone, but she would have none of it, and in the end he had given in. H
e
was pleased now that he had, for his restlessness was in a sense appeased by knowin
g
her nearness. Once it had been decided that she was to come, Brigo, of course, ha
d
come, too. Jaime Brigo had been asked by Nita's father to watch over her, and tha
t
was an oath he had never broken.

Cain Brockman, the bartender, doubled Nita's protection, and it had been simple enoug
h
for Rusty Gates to hire out to the ranch, which put one of their own men in the enemy'
s
camp. Yet there was much to be done, even now.

That somehow Poke Dunning had taken Markham's place, taken his ranch and usurpe
d
his position as father was obvious. Yet what had become of Markham? And what ha
d
become of his wife, Lena's mother? Where did Poke fit in? Also, was there any evidenc
e
that the ranch actually belonged to Lona other than Markham's statement to her? I
t
seemed that the mere fact that Dunning was carefully deceiving this young girl showe
d
that he was convinced that the ranch he had been running all these years actuall
y
belonged to her. It also seemed that Poke Dunning had somehow gotten control of th
e
ranch by posing as her father, an act made all the easier by the fact that no on
e
in these parts had known the original Markham. For all anyone knew, Dunning was th
e
man who had given her the property, but now he was planning on transferring lega
l
control to Mailer by having the girl marry him. Once the wedding took place, Dunnin
g
would no
t
have to worry about his charade, and if something happened to Lona, Mailer woul
d
inherit the ranch simply by being her husband.