Ambush at Blanco Canyon
Page 6
“You’ll prove nothing with me, Mr. Leech. I will not play this game on your terms, with horses or fists or guns. Good day, sir.”
He turned and started to walk toward the house. The other man’s left hand caught him off balance, swinging him around; the right hand caught him alongside the jaw and struck him to the ground. He sat up, hot anger driving through him with each strong beat of his heart. This was, he thought, how men came to kill each other. He saw the eagerness, not only in the eyes of Steve Leech but in those of the watching men as well. He got slowly to his feet, and brushed the dust from his clothes, and turned his back on Steve Leech, and walked away, passing the girl by the house, and her father, without looking aside or speaking.
Inside the house, he washed and shaved and changed his clothes. He was pulling his coat on when somebody knocked at the door.
“Jim?”
“Come in,” he said.
Patricia stepped inside, leaving the door open behind her. She had changed for dinner, into a white dress that left most of her shoulders bare. He thought he had never seen anyone quite so lovely,
“I’m sorry about—about what happened,” she said, not quite meeting his eyes. “I declare I can’t imagine what got into Steve.”
“I can.” he said.
She flushed slightly. “Well, I suppose he must be jealous, although I’m sure I’ve never given him the slightest—” She broke off. “Come on, darling, you must be starving, and dad’s waiting. Let’s just not talk about it.”
“Why not?” he said deliberately. “Better now than after we’re married and it’s too late.”
“Jim, I——”
“What do you want, my dear?” he asked. “If you want a man who’ll shoot to kill at the slightest provocation, risk his neck on a wild horse for no particularly good reason, and fight with anyone who feels like a brawl, it’s obvious that you’ve made a poor selection.”
She said, rather sharply, “You make it sound so—so childish!”
“It is childish.”
She hesitated; then she drew herself up slightly and said, “Courage isn’t childish, Jim McKay. It’s very important out here! You have to show a little——”
He shook his head quickly. “No. That’s just the point, my dear. I don’t intend to spend the rest of my life demonstrating to you or anyone else how brave I am.”
She licked her lips and said in an even and toneless voice, “I think you’ve already demonstrated that, Jim. Quite fully enough.”
He looked at her, rather shocked, They faced each other in total silence for a full minute, maybe longer. In that space of time, something terrible and irrevocable happened between them, and they both knew it.
At last McKay said softly, “Well, I guess that pretty well takes care of the situation. If you’ll have somebody hitch up some kind of a vehicle for me, I’ll get my things ready.”
She hesitated. “Maybe you’d better wait until morning. It’s a long drive in the dark.”
He said dryly, “If I get lost, you can send Steve Leech out to look for me.”
After she had left the room, he took from his pocket the piece of paper with Julie Maragon’s signature that he had intended to display at dinner. He made a wry face at it, folded it carefully and put it away again. Then the sense of loss he had been awaiting struck him like a physical pain; he had to steady himself against the bedpost for a moment before he turned away to pack.
Riding up to Ladder late the following morning, Julie Maragon met Steve Leech with a handful of riders. The Ladder foreman pulled aside to speak to her, sending the others on.
“We were beginning to think you’d forgotten your old friends since moving to town,” he said, smiling down at her. It was a smile that always infuriated her.
She smiled at him coolly. “Save that charm for a beautiful woman, Steve; it’s wasted on a schoolteacher with freckles. Is Pat around?”
“She’s at the house. She’ll be glad to see you.” Leech saluted her with his hat before clapping it back on his head. He started to turn his mount, and checked the movement. “Oh—did you meet anybody along the road?”
“I didn’t come by the road. I came up from Big Muddy. Why?”
Leech shook his head mysteriously, laughed, spun his horse and spurred away, racing to catch the other riders.
Up at the house, Julie stood for a moment in the living room that had seemed like a vision of another world to her as a child, and still did, a little; it was a world she had touched only briefly when she had gone East to school. There did not seem to be anybody around.
“Pat!” she called. “Pat, its Julie!”
Her friend’s voice answered, diminished by distance and, it seemed, a closed door; she went down the hall to the proper bedroom and went inside. Patricia was sitting before the mirror, brushing her hair. She did not turn immediately.
“Throw something off a chair and sit down,” she said.
Julie did so. There was a space of silence broken only by the rhythmic strokes of the brush. At last Julie asked, “What’s got Steve Leech looking like the cat that ate the canary?”
Patricia looked around and asked sharply, “What do you mean?”
“I met him, riding up. He looked very pleased with himself.”
Patricia said angrily, “You’ve never liked Steve. I think you’re just trying to—to undermine him, hinting that he’s gloating about what happened. Not that I’ve forgiven him, you understand; he behaved very badly. But at least—at least he acted like a man!”
Abruptly the taller girl buried her face in her hands and burst out crying. “Oh, I’m so m-miserable, Julie, I w-wish I’d die!”
Julie rose and went forward to put her hands on the other’s shoulders. “You’re talking riddles, Patsy. What’s happened?”
Patricia looked up. “You know I detest being called Patsy!”
“Uh-huh,” Julie said. “That’s better. Now blow your nose and tell me all about it.”
Patricia found a handkerchief. “It’s been—such a nightmare, Julie!” she said in a muffled voice. “He—he wasn’t at all like I remembered.”
“This is your Mr. McKay, I take it. Well, people usually do look different after six months.”
“I kept remembering the first time I saw him,” Patricia said without looking up. “We were going on an excursion in somebody’s sailing boat, and he was steering, I watched him at that rudder thing, giving orders to the other men in a calm voice, but you heard him right away. There wasn’t any question who was in charge. Then a wind hit us and we started flying along and tipping, and I didn’t know but what we were going straight to the bottom, and I looked at him again and he was steering with one hand and lighting his pipe with the other, kind of smiling to himself, and I knew everything was all right, and I told the girl who had brought me, ‘I have to meet that man,’ so later, while we were having our picnic on board, she introduced him.” She drew a deep, indignant breath, “And then he comes out here and acts like a perfect mouse!”
Julie said, “Well, what did you expect him to do, bring his sailboat with him?”
“I don’t think that’s very funny, Julie!”
“Well, it doesn’t sound to me like you’re being very fair to poor Mr. McKay. Incidentally, since we’re talking about him so matter-of-factly, I assume he got home all right.”
“Oh, yes,” Patricia said tartly. “He got home, finally. Steve found him just about dusk, wandering around, east of the river somewhere.” She looked up abruptly, startled by a thought. “Why, how did you know he was lost, Julie?”
“I didn’t,” Julie said. “I just saw him yesterday noon. He stopped by Big Muddy. I fed him lunch and—and showed him the trail north. Then, this morning, I got a little worried—after all, he is new to the country—so I decided I’d take a ride over this way and just check that he made it all right with his funny little map and compass. What’s the matter?”
Patricia had risen from her chair. Her face was pale. “Julie, is
that the truth?”
“Is what the truth?”
“Your saying that Jim—that Jim was clear down to Big Muddy yesterday?”
“Why, yes. I’d just got there myself, when I heard somebody at the pump, so I took my gun and went out, and there he was, filling up his water bottle. He apologized for trespassing. Said he’d wanted to see the place. We—had lunch together and I sent him off—about two o’clock. I’d say.” It seemed better to be discreet; the deal they had made was McKay’s secret to divulge in his own way.
“He—wasn’t in trouble?” Patricia asked.
“Not so you’d notice. He was glad to get something to eat, I will say that. Said he was saving the rest of his grub in case he didn’t make it back here by dark. He seemed to know what he was doing, so I let him go off alone.” She frowned. “What’s this about Steve finding him wandering about, lost, anyway? Did he say he was lost or is that just something Steve made up? What’s going on here, anyway, Pat? Where is Jim McKay?”
Patricia licked her tips. She said in a dead voice, “I suppose he’s in town. There’s no stage East today.”
Julie stared at her, profoundly shocked. “You sent him away, Pat?”
The taller girl nodded dumbly.
“But why, for heaven’s sake?”
“Because—” Patricia turned away, and was silent for a long lime. “He backed down from Steve,” she said breathlessly at last. “Oh, I’m not excusing Steve, it was unforgivable, but Steve knocked him down and Jim just looked at him and got up and walked away. Oh, I know Steve’s a big man and has a reputation as a fighter. I know Jim didn’t have a chance, but he could have tried, couldn’t he? And he didn’t have to let Buck Hannesey walk all over him; and when dad wanted him to ride on the Hanneseys, he found five good reasons not to go; and maybe Steve shouldn’t have saddled up Old Thunder for him to ride, but it was just a joke and he could have let the boys have their laugh instead of showing he was afraid of the horse. And then getting lost and making a fool of himself.”
Julie said, “We just have Steve’s word that he was lost. My own impression is that Mr. McKay is a hard man to lose. It seems to me that there’s an awful lot of Steve in this story, dear . . . All right, I don’t like the man. He’s never met a horse he couldn’t ride, a woman he couldn’t seduce or a man he couldn’t whip; and I hope Buck Hannesey knocks his ears down when they meet. Maybe that’ll turn him halfway human.”
Patricia said, a little stiffly, “I don’t agree with you, Julie. Steve’s a fine man.”
“I know you think so,” the smaller girl said. “Maybe he is. What’s this about Mr. McKay being afraid to ride Old Thunder?”
“Why, I saw it myself,” Patricia said. “Oh, Jim’s not stupid; he saw right away that something was up, the way the boys were watching him. He took one look at the horse, decided he wanted none of it and walked away. It was right afterward that he rode out of here and wasn’t seen again for thirty-six hours.”
Julie said thoughtfully, “That’s funny. When he came to Big Muddy yesterday I laughed at how stiff and sore he seemed to be. He said he’d had some trouble with a horse. Old Thunder was mentioned. Are you sure——”
“Of course, I’m sure!” Patricia said sharply. “I was standing right in the door watching.”
Julie glanced at her oddly. “And you didn’t run to warn him, Pat? What if he’d been hurt?”
Patricia flushed. “Men don’t like to have women interfering.”
“Well, heaven knows I’d never let my fiancé or husband get on an outlaw horse without knowing it, whether he liked it or not!”
“Well, anyway, he didn’t ride Old Thunder, Unless—” A startled look came to her face. She turned quickly to the mirror and paused to pin up her hair hastily; then, with a glance at Julie, hurried out. The smaller girl followed.
Patricia marched across the dusty yard to Ramon, who turned at the sound of her approach, but his glance went instantly beyond her to Julie, and his face lighted up. He snatched off his big hat and stepped forward.
“The little señorita!” he cried. “Señorita Maragon!”
“Ramon, how are you?” Julie said, taking the old man’s hand in hers. “It’s been a long time.”
“This is very touching,” Patricia’s cool voice said. “May I just ask one question, and then you can continue the reunion . . . Ramon, has anybody ridden Old Thunder lately?”
The old man scratched his head thoughtfully. “I think that new fellow that was hired last week gave it a try, Señorita Terrill. That was four-five days ago.”
“Nobody else?”
Ramon shook his head, “I do not think so.”
Patricia turned to face her companion, “You see, Julie?”
“Uh-huh,” the smaller girl said. “I see,” She looked at Ramon. “Mr. McKay swore you to secrecy, of course. What reason did he give?”
“Why, he said—” The old man checked himself. “That was not fair, Señorita!” he said reproachfully.
“I’m sorry, Ramon. But we have to know. He did ride the horse, didn’t he?”
“Sí, he ride him. That is one stubborn man, Señorita. Señor Leech may boast of knocking him down, but I would not want that man for my enemy. Dios, no! He climb on the horse, and it throw him off. He climb on again, and it throw him off again, I say, ‘That is enough, Señor; the major will hold me responsible if you get hurt.’ He say, ‘For a favor, Ramon, this is something I do for myself.’ He keep climbing on the horse and it keep throwing him off. Five times. Ten times. Maybe twenty times. What can you do with a man like that? The horse, he give up and walk around the corral like an old gentle burro, tired out from throwing him off. I say, ‘The Señorita would be pleased to know, Señor.’ He say, ‘I did not do it for the Señorita or anybody else.’ He say, ‘Damn if I know why I did do it.’ He say, ‘We will not tell, Ramon; it is our secret. Get me another horse and some food. I wish to go for a ride.’ ” The old Mexican spread his hands. “After that beating, he goes for a ride! So I give him my pony, which is sure-footed and will not fall with him in the bad places of which he has no experience, being new to the country. A man like that should be preserved.”
Julie did not look at her friend. She said, “Thank you, Ramon. We’ll have to get together soon and talk about old times.”
They walked back to the house in silence. Not until they were in the living room did Patricia speak, turning sharply to face her companion. “I don’t understand, Julie, if he was going to ride the brute, why didn’t he ride it when—when it meant something?”
“Why, it’s very simple!” the smaller girl said slowly. “Obviously your Mr. McKay is a man who, for some reason, is terribly afraid of only one thing in the world, and that is that somebody somewhere may suspect him of showing off before an audience. That, of course, is why he arrived in that ridiculous hat; he didn’t want anybody thinking he was even pretending to be a Westerner. Maybe that’s why he made no resistance to Buck Hannesey; probably it’s why he refused to fight Steve Leech. If there’s any doubt in his mind as to his ability to do a thing, such as ride a horse, he does it in private and swears the only witness to secrecy. I think—I think something dreadful must have happened to him sometime, to make him feel this way. I wonder what it could have been.”
Patricia’s face was pale and angry. “But if he loves me, why would he let me think——”
Julie said, more sharply than she had intended, “If you love him, why would you think it? How many times does a man have to win you, anyway?”
The taller girl drew an exasperated breath. Her voice was shrill, “Well, I think it’s a downright deceitful way of acting; and I’m glad he’s gone; and I wish you’d go, too, if you can’t think of anything better to do than criticize me. I declare, the way you’re standing up for him, a person might think you were in love with him yourself! If you think that much of him, why don’t you just take him, Julie Maragon? I’m sure I don’t care what happens to him, not one little bit!”
Her voice choked up, and she turned away so that the other girl should not see the tears that had come to her eyes for some reason she, herself, did not dare to try to understand. She hurried out of the house and mounted and rode away at a dead run, not looking back when she heard her name called behind her.
It was a long ride back to San Rafael without food; before she was halfway, hunger had driven most other thoughts from her mind, for which she was grateful. Then she saw three horsemen riding to intercept her from the south. Long before they drew abreast, she recognized the leader as Buck Hannesey.
Something about the hard and purposeful way he drove his mount toward her made her consider flight, but her horse was already tired from the morning’s ride and would stand no chance in a long race. She held him to a walk, therefore, and waited for the trio to come up, but the warning instinct was still at work, and before they were close enough to see what she was doing, she removed her riding gloves and let one fall at the side of the road. After all, if nothing happened, she could always discover the loss and ride back for it.
After leaving Ladder in the dark, McKay had promptly lost the road twice within the space of an hour and a half; it was little more than a pair of wheel tracks in the dirt, plain enough by day, but almost invisible at night. The second time he would have driven team and wagon into a twenty-foot ravine—what they called an arroyo out here—if the horses had not stopped at the edge, of their own accord. This had seemed warning enough, and he had tied the team to a clump of brush, wrapped himself in his heavy traveling coat and lain down to sleep in the bed of the wagon. When he awoke, it was daylight. He got up, pulled his clothes straight, brushed himself off and drove into San Rafael, where he learned that there would not be a stage East until the following day.