the Man from the Broken Hills (1975) (18 page)

Startled, I stared at her.

"I said five hundred dollars," she repeated. "That's more than you'd make in a year, even at fighting wages for Balch and Saddler."

"That's a lot of money," I agreed. "How do I do it?"

She stared at me, her lips tightening. At that moment she looked anything but pretty. "You kill a man," she said. "You kill Roger Balch."

Chapter
16

Well, I just stood there. Barby Ann didn't look to be the same woman. Her skin was drawn tight, and there was such hatred in her face as I'd rarely seen on any man's, and never on a woman's.

"Kill him," she said, "and I'll give you five hundred dollars!"

"You've got me wrong," I said. "I don't kill for hire."

"You're a gunfighter! We all know you're a gunfighter. You've killed men before!" she protested.

"I've used a gun in my own defense, and in defense of property. I never hired my gun and never will. You've got the wrong man. Anyway," I said, more gently, "you're mad now, but you don't want him dead. You wouldn't want to kill a man."

"Like hell, I wouldn't!" Her eyes were pinpointed with fury. "I'd like to see him dead right here on the floor! I'd stomp in his face!"

"I'm sorry, ma'am."

"Damn you! Damn you for a yellow-bellied coward! You're afraid of him! Afraid! It's just like he says, every damn one of you is scared of him!"

"I don't think so, ma'am. None of us have any reason to jump Roger Balch. I don't think anybody likes him too well, but that's no reason to kill him."

"You're scared!" she repeated contemptuously. "You're all scared!"

"You'll have to excuse me, ma'am." I backed away. "I'm no killer."

She swore at me, then turned and went into the house. Fuentes came to the door of the bunkhouse as I went in. "What was that all about?" he asked, curiously.

I told him.

He looked at me thoughtfully, then shrugged. "I guess he told her he was through. Or that he was marrying Ann Timberly."

"Marryingwho ?" I turned on him.

"He's been courting her. Going to call, setting out with her ... Everybody knows that. I guess Barby Ann found out and faced him with it."

Joe Hinge had been listening. "She'll get over it," he said, carelessly.

"I don't think so," I said, after a minute. "I think we'd better tie down for squalls. The way she feels now, if she can't get somebody to kill him, she'll do it herself."

Hauling my dufflebag from under my bunk, I got out a shirt that needed mending and started to stitch up a tear in it. Most cowhands have a needle and thread somewhere, but this was a buckskin shirt, and I was stitching it with rawhide.

Hinge watched me for a minute. "Hell," he said, "you do that like you was a tailor!"

"Me? I learned watching Ma," I said. "She was handy."

He looked at me thoughtfully. "Where you from, Talon? You never said."

It was a question rarely asked in western country. So I just said, "That's right, I never did." He flushed a little, and started to rise and, not minding, I said, "Up north a ways ... Colorado."

"Good country," he commented, and went outside.

Fuentes was stretched out on his bunk. Now he sat up and tugged on his boots. "I've got a bad feeling," he said. "I feel like a mossyhorn steer with a storm comin' up."

I looked at him, then forked out my knife and cut the rawhide, tucking in an end and drawing it tight. "Me, too," I agreed.

Ben Roper rode into the yard and stepped down, stripping the gear from his horse. Then he shook out a loop and roped a fresh one. "Now where d' you suppose he's goin'?" I asked Tony.

"He feels it, too," Fuentes said. "He's just gettin' ready."

Barby Ann came out from the house and called to Ben. "I forgot. Harley wants one of you boys should spell him. He's got to ride over home."

Fuentes started to rise but I waved him back. "I'll do it."

Outside, I told Ben. "Long's you got that rope in your hands, fish out one for me. That gray gelding will do. I'll take over for Harley."

"You just come in," he protested.

"Who didn't?" I grinned at him. "I got to get out of that bunkhouse. I'm gettin' cabin fever."

He put a loop on the gray, who quieted down when he felt the rope. It was a good horse, one I'd never ridden but had seen around. I threw my saddle on him and cinched up.

Ben stood by, coiling his rope. He kept looking at me, and finally he said, "Joe tells me you had words with Barby Ann. That she wanted you to kill Roger Balch."

"Uh-huh."

"How much did she offer?"

"Five hundred."

"Whew!" he glanced at me. "She's really mad!"

"Mad enough to do it herself." I glanced around. Nobody was close to us. "I wonder if her pa knows?"

Ben Roper finished coiling the rope. "He don't miss much," he commented. "Seems like he would, but he knows everything, seems like."

Harley was waiting by the herd when I came down. "Took you long enough," he said.

"She just told me." I didn't like his attitude very much.

He just turned his mount and rode out of there, not toward the ranch, but south toward where his place was, I guess. I walked my horse around the herd, bunching them a little. They had fed well, and watered, and now they were settling down for the night, although it was just evening. A bit later one of the other boys would be out to help, but the cattle were quiet enough, liking the holding ground. Usually of a morning they were drifted a mite to fresh grass, then brought in closer where the ranch and the hills helped to corral them.

As I rode around, I tried to spot the restless ones, the troublemakers. There's always a few ready to jump and run, or to cut up a mite. Sitting a horse on night-herd can give a man a chance to dream. It was just dusk, the sun out of the sky, but night had not blacked things out. Here and there a star hung up there, advance agent for all those yet to come. Later on, the cattle might become restless, but now with the quiet of evening on them, they were laying down or standing, just chewing their cuds and letting time pass. Even the few calves born since we had them on the holding ground had stopped jumping about.

Turning the gray, I rode partway up the slope of the hill where I could see the entire herd. I curled one leg around the saddle horn, shoved my hat.back on my head and went to contemplating.

First it was Ann ... She was quite a girl, when you came right down to it, lots of fire there, but stamina, too. She'd stepped right in when I was hurt. Aside from stiffness and a care how I wore my belt, my wound was much better. I'd lost blood, but the place had scabbed over, and unless I got to wrestling some steer it would stay that way. I tired fast, and would until I got my strength back, but in this wide-open plains country the air was fresh and clean and wounds healed fast.

From Ann my thoughts went to China Benn ... We had danced together, and there for a moment all seemed right with the world. My thoughts veered to the box social, and Lisa. Now I'd no romantic notions about her, yet the mystery of who she was, and where she went to, worried me.

She was in a hurry to get home, which spoke of a strict father or a husband ... although she'd denied there was a husband.

When it was full dark, Ben Roper rode out. "Get some coffee," he advised. "You've got a long night ahead."

"All right," I said, but I sat my horse. "You know the country south of here?"

"A mite. South and east, that is. We used to ride over to San Antone now and again. If there's four, five in a bunch, it's safe enough. Although Rossiter told me there'd been news of Apaches raiding down thataway."

"Any settlers?"

He shook his head. "Not unless they keep themselves hid. Oh, there's some German folks, moved over from around Fredericksburg ... But they just run a few cows down that way from time to time."

"Has Danny showed up?"

"He's up at the line cabin, I reckon." He glanced at me. "You ready to go up against Ingerman an' them?"

"There won't be any trouble."

Ben Roper turned his hat in his hands, then replaced it on his head. I'd noticed this was a way he had when he was thinking. "All right," he said, doubtfully, "but I'll be there and I'll be armed."

"Ben? You're a good man, Ben. There's nobody I'd rather have behind me. I think this time they will try for an easy way out and save face, but we've got to be ready for trouble from Tory. If they're as smart as I hope, they'll have him somewhere else. He's got a quick trigger, and he's anxious to prove he's a big boy now."

"That's the way I see it," Ben turned his horse. "Get your coffee," he said. And I turned my horse and cantered back to the ranch.

All was quiet at the ranch. A few stars hung in the sky, others were appearing. There was a light in the bunkhouse, and two rooms were lighted in the ranchhouse. Turning my horse into the corral, I roped and saddled my night horse and tied him at the corral, then walked to the bunkhouse.

Joe Hinge was reading a newspaper, Fuentes was asleep. "Danny show up?" I asked.

"At the line-cabin, I reckon," Hinge said. "How're the cattle?"

"Quiet. Ben's out there."

From a pair of spare saddlebags I took cartridges and filled a few empty loops. Hinge put his paper down and took off the glasses he used for reading.

"You ain't expecting trouble over west?"

"I had a talk with Balch. If we take it light and easy, I think they will. It'll be touchy ... especially with Tory Benton."

"Three, four days should do it."

"Joe? You've been around here a spell. What's off southeast of here?"

"San Antonio," he smiled a little, "but that's some way ... more'n a hundred mile, I reckon."

"I meant in that Kiowa country."

"That's what's there. Kiowas, Comanches, often enough Apaches. It's a raiding trail when they ride up from Mexico or from the Panhandle. Comanches have themselves a hideout in the Panhandle somewhere. I've heard tell of it."

"I meant closer by."

"Nothin' I know of. Few good waterholes yonder, but folks fight shy of them because of Kiowas."

For a moment I stood there, wondering about Danny and thinking of Lisa ... Now where the hell did she come from? And where did she go?

It was darker when I went outside. My horse turned to look at me, but I walked up to the house and went in. The kitchen was lighted by one coal-oil lamp, and the table was set for breakfast with a blue and white checkered cloth. I got the coffeepot and a cup and went to the table. Several doughnuts were on a sideboard and I latched onto a couple of them, then straddled a chair and started to look at that tablecloth, but I was not seeing it. I was seeing the country southwest of here toward the Edwards Plateau country. There were a lot of canyons and brakes in there, room enough to hide several armies, and rough country with plenty of water if a body knew where to look ... and nobody riding that way because of Kiowas.

Was there some tie-up between Lisa and whoever was stealing those cattle? I didn't like to think it, but it could be. And who had shot at me? Someone I knew? Or someone totally unknown to any of us?

Slowly my thoughts sifted the names and faces through the sieve of recollection. But it came up with nothing. I heard a faint stir from the adjoining room, and a shadow loomed in the door. It was Rossiter. "Joe?" His tone was questioning.

"It's Talon," I said. "Ben just relieved me for coffee."

"Ah!" He walked to the table, putting out a hand, feeling for the corner. "I hear you've had some trouble."

"Nothing I can't handle," I replied, with more confidence than I felt. "I've been shot at, but he can't always get away."

"How about you? He can't always miss, either."

"If that happens, there's always Barnabas," I said, "and the Sackett boys."

"Sackett! What have you to do with them?"

"Didn't you know? Ma was a Sackett. She was a mountain woman, living in Tennessee until Pa found her there."

"Well, I'll be damned! I should have guessed it. No," he was suddenly thoughtful, "I never knew." He drummed on the table with his fingers as I sipped coffee. "You mean that whole outfit would come if you needed them?"

"I reckon. Only we figure each of us can handle what comes our way. It's only when a man is really outnumbered that the clan gathers ... or when one of us is drygulched. Whoever is trying to kill me doesn't realize what would happen if he did. There's only one of me, but you get seven or eight Sacketts and Talons in the country and they'll find whoever did it."

"If there's anything to find."

The doughnuts were good, and so was the coffee, yet Rossiter sat there after eating, obviously with something on his mind. "Have you talked to Barby Ann?"

"Now and again," I said.

"She's a fine girl ... a fine girl. Right now she's very upset about something, but she won't tell me what it is." He turned his face toward me. "Is it something between you two?"

"No, sir, it isn't."