Returning, he found the Major in the living room lighting a cigar. He placed the mahogany pistol-case on the table beside the older man.
“They belonged to my father, Sir,” he said. “They’re French dueling pistols and quite accurate. I thought you might like to have them.”
Major Terrill glanced at him. “Why, that’s very kind of you, Jim!” He laid the cigar aside and examined the case respectfully, then opened it carefully to inspect the engraved weapons inside, making a sound of appreciation. “These have seen use,” he said presently.
“Yes,” McKay said. “My father used them, and when I was a boy we often Went down to the shore to practice with them. My father always said a gentleman ought to be able to defend his honor with either sword or pistol, if the occasion should arise.”
The older man gave him a sidewise look. “You seem to have a somewhat different attitude. Patricia said you refused to defend yourself on the road last night. She was a little upset about it.”
'McKay said, “Perhaps I did not feel that my honor was involved, sir.”
“Well, yours may not be, but mine is!” Major Terrill said with sudden anger. “When a guest can’t come to my house without being set upon by a gang of armed ruffians, it’s time that steps were taken. I’ve sent Steve Leech out to round up the hands. We’re going to teach the Hanneseys a small lesson. Would you care to come along?”
McKay hesitated. “If it’s all the same to you, Major, I’d prefer not to be the cause of a lot of trouble. In fact, that’s precisely what I was trying to avoid yesterday afternoon.
You’ll be doing me a favor if you simply forget it.”
“Forget it!” The older man’s white mustache seemed to bristle with indignation. “I must say, Jim, I find your attitude hard to understand-”
“What attitude?” It was Patricia’s voice from the doorway, lightly questioning, “What do you find hard to understand, Dad?”
They turned to face her as she came forward, tall and lovely in a flowered blue dress.
“Why,” said her father, “why, I asked Jim if he wanted to accompany us south to teach the Hanneseys a little lesson, but he seems reluctant.”
McKay saw Patricia look at him quickly. There was a startled question in her eyes, as if she was trying to find the answer to a doubt that had come into her mind. He met her glance levelly, and her eyes turned away. It was not a pleasant moment.
He said, “I did not say that, sir. I merely hoped you’d reconsider the expedition. If you’re riding, of course I’ll ride with you.”
Chapter 8
THE STOOD FOR A MOMENT in silence after her father had left the room. Patricia was the first to move, turning toward McKay with a helpless little gesture that had no clear meaning.
“Oh, Jim!” she breathed. “I wish-”
“What?”
“That we’d done it when I wanted us to. That we were married right now! I’m afraid, darling. We had such a wonderful thing six months ago. I’m afraid something will spoil it now.”
He said, “If it can’t last six months, and a week or so longer, how is it going to endure all our lives?” After a while, he said, “Let’s not beat around the bush, Pat. I disappointed you yesterday, didn’t I?”
She looked up quickly. “No, of course not! I was wrong, anyway. Dad said it was the best thing you could have done-”
I wasn't talking about the business with Miss Maragon. I was talking about our little encounter on the road.”
She hesitated. Then she laughed, and said swiftly, “Oh, it doesn’t matter, darling. After all, you’re not used to the ways of this country, and all these things happening so quickly when you’d barely stepped off the stage, I declare it’s no wonder if you got a little confused-”
McKay said, “I think you miss the point, Pat.”
“Well, what is the point?” she asked, a little stiffly.
He said, “The point, my dear, is that here we all are this morning, undamaged except for a slight contusion behind my ear. I consider that a small price to pay for the privilege of having you unhurt, of being alive myself, and of having no man’s blood on my hands. I came out here expecting a fairly rough time. Greenhorns are fair game anywhere. Should I have risked turning it into mass murder, just to keep from getting a little dust on my clothes? As I see it, the choice was mine. Nobody else was hurt. I wish your father would leave it alone.”
As he spoke, he knew the last sentence was a mistake, but he could not stop it in time.
Patricia stiffened and said, “Dad’s doing what he thinks is right, Jim. And he’s lived in this country a little longer than you have.”
“And you agree with him?” McKay,asked quietly. “You think this bump on my head is a matter that can only be settled by more violence, even if I’m willing to forget it?”
She said, “There won’t be any violence. The Hanneseys are like curs that only attack people who are afraid of them. They’ll back down when they see Dad means business. They always do.”
“You mean this kind of thing has happened before?”
“Of course. A couple of times. It builds up and builds up, little incidents and indignities and humiliations that we try to overlook until the situation becomes unbearable and we have to-well, crack the whip. And then they leave us alone for a while. You just don’t understand how we look at these things out here, darling. It’s a big country, and there’s no law nearer than Las Lomas. We have to be our own law-"
McKay said, “Perhaps. Nevertheless, from a purely practical standpoint, I don’t like the idea of your father allowing himself to be goaded into hasty action by a man who, from everything I hear, is smart enough not to embark on these campaigns of petty annoyance without a purpose. All right, Pat,” he added hastily. “I know, the Major has lived here a long time and is personally acquainted with Rufus Hannesey, which I’m not. Maybe he’s right. However, I’ve thought since I was a boy that the only possible justification a man can have for taking one human life is to save another-his Own or somebody else’s-and even then he ought to be clever enough to accomplish his purpose without killing. If people Weren’t quite so ready to rush out and teach other people a lesson-"
He checked himself too late. His speech implied a criticism of the Major which he had not intended but which Patricia was quick to notice. Her expression hardened. She just started to speak when someone knocked at the door.
Patricia hesitated, and said, “Come in.”
Steve Leech stepped inside, holding his wide-brimmed hat in his hand. “Didn’t mean to intrude, ma’am,” he said to Patricia. “I was looking for the Major to tell him that crew’s ready whenever he wants to ride.”
McKay said, “The Major went to his room, he’ll be right back. I’d appreciate it if you’d have a horse saddled for me, Mr. Leech.”
The cowboy’s pale blue eyes turned to McKay as if only now discovering his presence. “You’re coming along? It’s going to be a long ride for a tenderfoot, with trouble likely at the end of it.”
"Trouble seems hard to avoid in this country," McKay said.
“It all comes from one place,” Leech said grimly. “One day we’ll clean up that place for keeps, and there'll be an end to it. Should I have a carbine put on your saddle?”
“If you please,” McKay said. “It looks as If I might as well get used to the idea.”
“You want a gentle horse, I reckon. I’ll have "one of" the boys fix you up.”
Patricia checked him as he turned to go. “Oh, Steve-"
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Mr. McKay has the notion Rufus Hannesey may be setting a trap of some kind.”
The foreman glanced at McKay and back to the girl. He grinned, his teeth Very white in his lean, brown face. “It had better be a good one, then. I got fifteen boys outside I’ll guarantee Can take any Hannesey trap and turn it inside out in two minutes flat. Don’t you worry about us, ma’am. We can take care of ourselves, I reckon.”
“I’m sure you can, St
eve,” she said. “Oh, one more thing-” She glanced at McKay, and lowered her voice slightly, as if to exclude him from the conversation. “That man you were telling us about the other day, the one you thought might be selling us out-”
Leech grinned again. “I’ve got two hands watching him, Miss Pat. If he rides to warn the Hanneseys we’re coming, he won’t get far. You let the Major know we’re ready whenever he is, ma’am. I’d better go see about Mr. McKay’s horse.”
Patricia watched him leave. It occurred to McKay that she stood regarding the closed door a little longer than was absolutely necessary. When she turned and found him watching her, color came into her face. She started to speak, but was interrupted by the entrance of her father, and addressed him instead, “Steve says the boys are ready to ride.”
“Fine,” the Major said. He was buckling about him a wide, hand-carved cartridge belt that carried a bolstered revolver with white ivory grips. Another belt hung from his shoulder. He let this slip down his arm, caught it, and held it out to McKay. “Fair exchange for the dueling pistols,” he said. “Try it on, my boy.”
McKay took the gun belt and fastened it about his waist, having to strain to engage the buckle in the last hole of the tongue. Major Terrill looked surprised.
“You’re bigger than you look,” he said. “I reckon it’s the dude riding clothes that fooled me. We'll have to get you a better outfit next time we’re in town, and a real hat in place of that goddamn soup bowl-if you'll pardon the profanity, daughter. I’ll order you a belt to fit at the same time, the gun should hang down a little to be ready to the hand.” He watched McKay pull the weapon awkwardly from the high holster and examine it. “The piece is loaded in five chambers.” he said. “It’s well to keep an empty under the hammer to avoid accidents. Well, if you’re ready, sir, we’ll ride. Good-by, my dear. Don’t expect us back until some time tomorrow.”
“Be careful, Dad,” she said. “Those Hanneseys are a tricky hunch. Good-by, Jim.”
Major Terrill laughed. “Oh, don’t be bashful, girl. Kiss him. And don’t worry. I’ll take good care of him for you...”
Patricia’s lips seemed cool and remote and a little unreal to McKay, like the rest of the scene, he was standing somewhere outside himself watching himself march out of the house with the revolver at his hip. Outside the sun was bright and hot. He could feel it like an actual weight on his head and shoulders as he walked across the yard with the tight gun belt constricting his waist and the heavy weapon slapping at his thigh.
The men were already in the saddle, waiting in the shade of the trees. The Major broke stride beside him, and McKay glanced at the older man and ahead to where the two saddled horses awaited him. One was a tall and handsome animal, the other was a less spectacular specimen of horse-flesh, a buckskin colored gelding of uncertain age that looked weary already from the mere weight of the saddle-not that the beast could be blamed, McKay reflected wryly, considering the amount of furniture it was being asked to carry. The great, ornate Texas saddles with their double cinches and great curving horns looked very strange to a man used to nothing larger than a Maryland hunting saddle.
The Major’s face was expressionless. McKay watched his future father-in-law swing himself on to the tall horse with the ease of a youth of twenty. The older man turned away to speak to one of the cowboys. Steve Leech, holding the other horse, drawled, “We generally get on from the left side, Mr. McKay.”
McKay looked up at him, and at the near-by riders. They were waiting with pleasurable anticipation. The Major’s attention was Still firmly fixed elsewhere. McKay looked at the buckskin again. The picture was Very clear, a bad horse was a bad horse anywhere and this animal had. the eye of a mean one. McKay could see the next few moments very plainly. He was an adequate rider, but no more, the horse would undoubtedly buck and throw him, to the great joy of the watching riders. The Major would turn and be greatly shocked to discover the trick that had been played; Steve Leech would receive a sharp reprimand, and he, McKay apologies, dusted off, and put on a reasonable mount, assuming no bones were broken. Then they would all ride off, bristling with firearms, to teach the Hanneseys a lesson.
He was aware, without looking around, that Patricia was watching from the house. Or perhaps she had recognized the buckskin horse and was running down to expose the trick-or perhaps, like her father, she was letting it proceed, to see how he would conduct himself. At any rate, he knew she was somewhere behind him, he thought he would always know when she was near, because he loved her. But a man could not pretend to be something other than he was, for a whole lifetime, for any woman.
McKay took a long breath and stepped back. He unbuckled the gun belt from his waist, fastened the buckle again, and hung the weapon on a post of the near-by hitching rack. The Major had turned in the saddle now to look at him.
McKay stepped away from the revolver. “This is a damn fool expedition, sir,” he said evenly. “I will not countenance it by coming along. Furthermore, I must ask you not to use my name to justify your actions. If you ride on the Hanneseys, you do so for your own reasons, not on account of anything that has happened to me.” He glanced at the buckskin horse. “As for this gentle mount Mr. Leech has been So kind as to provide for me, it looks so tired I’d hate to exhaust it further.”
He turned and walked deliberately back to the house. Patricia stood on the porch, awaiting him without moving. He knew, as she licked her lips before speaking, that whatever was said now would cause damage between them that could never be wholly repaired. . . .
A sudden commotion brought them both around, as three horsemen came clattering into the yard. Two of them looked like any of the other ranch hands, the third, in the center, was distinguished by being hatless and having his hands tied behind his back. His holster and rifle scabbard were empty, and blood had rundown his face and neck from a cut over the eyebrow. One of his companions checked his horse, and he sat there, swaying in the saddle-a smallish man with thinning brown hair-while the third man rode up to Steve Leech.
“We watched him like you said,” he reported. “We let him go until there was no mistaking the fact that he was heading south to give the word. Then we rounded him up and brought him back.”
The foreman nodded, kicked his horse into motion, and rode up to the captive. “Well, Brownie?” he said softly.
The smaller man moved his shoulders. “You got me. What do you want me to do, argue about it?”
“How much did they pay you, Brownie?”
Brownie spat. “My wife’s a Pinckney. Kin to the Hanneseys on her mother’s side. Old Rufus sent some boys to get me out of a tight spot once. Everybody don’t ride for money, Leech.”
“Well,” the little man drawled, “I reckon you’ll want to hear me holler some first, so you’ll either whip me or brand me. Then I reckon you’ll shoot me. Then you’ll pack the body on the pony and send it down to scare the rest of the outfit, like “the redskins used to do after they’d had their fun. Considering that I never scared old Rufus much alive, I don’t reckon he’ll panic at seeing me dead. But suit yourself. I’m just a guest here, it ain’t my party.”
Leech studied him for a moment, and said, “You‘re wrong, Brownie. I know that’s what would happen if one of our boys got caught down in Blanco Canyon, but we don’t play that way. Cut him loose,” the foreman snapped. “Put him on his feet and give him back his gun.”
Brownie chuckled. “Going to give me an even break, eh? Much obliged, Leech, that’s mighty white of you.” His voice was dry and sardonic.
Not quite comprehending what was going on. McKay watched the little. man, his hands released, slide off his horse and walk into the open. Leech strode off a few yards and turned to face him. One of the other men stepped up behind Brownie, dropped a revolver into the empty holster. and stepped quickly aside. Brownie, an odd smile on his damaged face, massaged the fingers and wrist of his right hand gently to restore circulation.
“This is downright gentlemanly of you, Le
ech,” he said, and the mocking note was clearer in his voice. “I sure do appreciate the privilege of dying on my feet. Well, here goes-”
Both his hands swung down in a clumsy double movement, one hand holding the holster in place while the other endeavored to extract the revolver it contained. McKay felt his own hands clench tightly. He swung his gaze to Steve Leech. The tall man had not moved. He was watching with a faint, contemptuous smile on his lips, as the smaller man fumbled for his weapon. Then Leech’s hand flicked down in a motion too swift for the eye to follow. There was a crash of sound, repeated twice. The man called Brownie dropped the revolver he had finally brought clear, fell on his face in the dust, and lay still. McKay turned abruptly and walked into the house.
Chapter 9
MCKAY EMERGED FROM HIS ROOM to find the house empty except for a Mexican woman scrubbing the floor in the hallway. He went out through the front door and stood for a moment in the sunshine, looking around. He could see water, presumably the Rio Puerco, through the cottonwoods. It was a pretty scene, an oasis in the desert. In the dust of the yard was an irregular dark stain marking the Spot where a man had died.
He put the grim memory out of his mind with an effort and walked around the long, sprawling house to find what he was looking for, the corrals. There were a number of them, designed for various purposes connected with livestock that McKay could barely guess at. In one fenced area a dozen horses stood peacefully half-dozing in the sun. McKay walked over to the fence and stood looking at the penned animals with no great fondness. A movement beside him made him turn, to see an old man who had come up silently from the nearby barn. He wore a large straw hat and had a leathery brown face. There was no gray in his hair or in his fierce, sweeping mustache.
“Señor?” he said.
“I don’t suppose the Major’s back yet,” McKay said. “My local geography’s a little vague, but I’d imagine it would be tomorrow morning before they could get to the Hannesey place and back, even if they rode all night.”
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