Ride the River (1983) s-5

by Louis L'Amour

  "I am. From Tuckalucky Cove, or thereabouts, but we've friends up thisaway." I grasped at a name. "I should say a friend. He's a hunter. Known all over this part of the country. Name of John McHenry."

  "Never heard of him," Elmer said.

  "If you was a hunter you would. He's a dead shot. He's fed himself and his folks for years. He may hunt for the market, too. I don't know about that."

  "What's so great about huntin'?" Elmer demanded.

  "If we didn't shoot our meat, we wouldn't have any. I reckon it is the same in these mountains up here. We have great respect for a man's shootin' ability. Take us Sacketts, for example. All of us are hunters, and we are all good shots. Right now," I said, "we've got a feud goin', too. With the Higginses, but we're ahead of them right now. Our boys shoot better than they do."

  "What about the law?"

  "Folks don't bother much, as long as we only shoot each other. I guess the law figures sooner or later we'll wipe each other out, but that'll take a while. Must be forty Sacketts in the hills now, and some down in the flat country. If you step on one Sackett's toes, they all come running."

  The plate before me was empty. Now came the big gamble. I drained my coffee cup and pushed back my chair. "I got to get goin'. If I don't show up pretty soon, those McHenry folks will be huntin' me."

  I started toward the door, then stopped, brushed an old piece of sacking away, sacking that had covered my carpetbag. "An' I'll just take this along with me." When I straightened up, the bag was held in my left hand. In my right I had that Scottish Highlander pistol.

  Oats had started to rise; Elmer had turned, startled by my sudden switch.

  "You just set still. This here pistol shoots mighty straight, an' I wouldn't want one of you boys to have to bury the other. Just set real quiet, now."

  I put down the bag, pushed the bar away, never taking my eyes from them, and picked up the bag. Elmer was getting over his shock and he put the fryin' pan down real gentle. I don't know what was in his mind but didn't aim to be around to find out.

  Oats had kind of leaned forward, starin' at me, and suddenly he came off that chair with a lunge. Stepping quickly back, I managed with the tip of a finger on my gun hand to start the door swinging shut. He hit it with a bang and I ran for my horse. I heard him cursing, heard Elmer yell something; then the door jerked open and they both came tumbling out. I was in the saddle, trying to hold the carpetbag and reins with the same hand, ready to shoot if need be.

  Then I was out of the gate and headed down the road. Somebody behind me was swearing, and they were running for the barn. It was going to take them time to hitch up, and meanwhile, I was off and away.

  Lucky? You bet I was lucky! When I got up from the table, my only thought was to get away from them; then I saw that carpetbag only partly hidden by the sacking. I just acted without thinking. Only thing saved me was, my action was unexpected. They figured me for a woman who would set quiet and do their bidding. Growin' up as I had, I was active as any boy and ready for anything.

  I taken off down the road. Ahead of me I could see a ridge, black against the sky. Next thing I knew, I was slowing down for a cluster of houses. Two of them seemed to be taverns, but closed for the night. This was Loudon, or some such place. Cove Mountain was ahead of me, and a winding road up it. Slowing down, I started up at a walk, a twisting trail toward the top. By now they would be after me, and they weren't the kind of men to think of their horses. Nonetheless, I taken it easy.

  It taken me most of two hours to reach the crest, although I doubt if it was more than seven or eight miles. By the time I was topping out on the ridge I could hear them coming.

  Near the top of the hill was another tavern. There were some wagons about, loaded with household goods. Movers, I suspected. Two men were standing in the road arguing, and from their voices they must be Irish.

  They turned when they heard me coming, and I pulled up. "Paddy," I said, "would y' be doin' me a favor, then?"

  "It's a lass, Rory! Would y' believe it in the night? A lass!"

  "There be two men followin' me, thieves they are, and I just got free of them. I'd not want you to get hurt, but if you could stop them? Hold them up for a bit so I can get away?"

  Rory stood straight, as if on dress parade. "I would, ma'am! I shall stop them or know the reason why. Do they come now?"

  "Right behind me. Two men in a buggy, and one of them is a fighter, I think."

  "Who's a fighter?" The other Irish thrust himself forward. "It's a bit of a fighter I am, too! We'll stop them, ma'am, an' go a round or two whilst we wait. We'll see if he's a fighter or not!"

  "Thank you, sirs! You are gentlemen indeed!"

  Now I remembered my father speaking of this place, for all along the mountains the story was told of battles between the settlers and the redcoats several years before the Revolution. Two forts, one at Loudon and another at Bedford, had been taken from the British soldiers, and there had been many a fight with Indians in those days.

  Ahead of me was a village called McConnell's Town, and beyond it another of those steep ridges like the one I'd just come over. The man from whom I had hired the horse had told me I might leave it here at a place called Noble's Tavern, although whether Noble still kept it, I did not know. The food there was good, he had said, explaining it all very rapidly as he bridled my horse. And the tavern was a stage stop.

  Unless the stage had passed me when I had stopped at the cabin, it was still behind, and with luck I could resume my passage.

  Tired I was when Noble's Tavern appeared, and a man came out to take my horse. "You have ridden far," he said. "I know this horse."

  "I'm to leave him with you. Has the stage come?"

  "It hasn't, but it is due within the hour." He was a kindly man, and he saw the tiredness of me. "Go inside," he said. "The missus will put something on for you."

  She was a cheerful lady with red cheeks and a brusque, friendly manner. "Oh, you poor dear!" She pointed. "Go there, you can refresh yourself. When you come out, I shall have breakfast for you."

  The breakfast was good - sausage, eggs, ham, and some applesauce she had made herself. There was no one about, so she sat with me, very curious, as I could see.

  "I've come a far piece, and I am going to Pittsburgh, but there's two men coming along after me." I described them. "They have tried to rob me, although it is little enough that I have. They will be coming along soon."

  "Don't you worry! We'll have none of that about here!"

  She got up as I was finishing my meal. "Come! You're dead tired! You come back to my room and lie down for a bit. Bring your things. You rest up, and when the stage comes, I'll not let them leave without you."

  Alone in her room, I sat down on the bed, opening my carpetbag. Nothing was disturbed and the other Doune pistol was there, and more powder and balls. To be sure, I recharged the pistol, for there might have been dampness in the powder. Then I lay back on the bed and slept.

  Dreaming, I was. Dreaming of a tall young man with broad shoulders but no face to him - only my feeling that he was handsome. He was riding a horse and he was looking for me. It was a nice dream and I was sorry to awaken, but it was a voice I heard, a voice beyond the wall.

  "Cut my lip, he did. I'll say that for the bugger. He was game. I put him down three times, and each time he came up swinging."

  It was Timothy Oats speaking, and then I heard the other one, Elmer. "But you whipped him, whipped him good. What I don't understand is why he challenged you, a stranger."

  Oats's voice was low and ugly. "You're a fool! Can't you see? It was that girl. She put him up to it. Just wait! Wait until I get my hands on her!"

  There was a rap on their door. "Come! Come, now, gentlemen! You must be off! We've the stage coming in and must serve them who've only a minute or two!"

  "Have you seen a young girl? On a bay horse?"

  "A girl? At this hour? You must be daft! We've only just opened the doors! If anybody passed, it must have been in
the dark! Be off with you now, we're busy folk here. We've no time for drunken brawlers."

  "Now, see here! I wasn't drunk! I - "

  "Whatever, we've only food enough for the stage, so be off with you now. If it is breakfast you're wanting, there's another tavern down the road a bit. No doubt whoever you were looking for would have stopped there, for they show a light the night long."

  Up, I was, and slipping on my boots. When I had bathed my face and arms, with no time for more, I combed out my hair. It was a sight, and I was a sight.

  A brush here and a touch there, however, and I felt better and may have looked better. I was straightening my clothes a bit when she came to the door.

  "Come! There's fresh coffee and you can have a bit before the stage comes." She put a cup and saucer on the red-checked cloth and poured coffee. "There were two men just here, one with his knuckles all skinned and a bad welt on his cheekbone, as well as a split lip. Were they the ones?"

  "I heard them talking. It was an Irishman at Loudon who fought him."

  "Ah, that would be Rory! What a lad! And a brawny good lad, too, if he did not nurse the bottle so much! Always ready for a fight, he is, and all for the sport of it. There's no meanness in him!"

  She bustled off and I sipped the coffee, thinking. Timothy Oats and Elmer were somewhere ahead of me, and they would try to catch me. If not on the road, then in Pittsburgh.

  It was unlikely they would expect me on the stage, for they would be sure I had gone on ahead of them. I was finishing my coffee when the stage rolled in, but only three people came to eat. Three and the driver.

  He looked at me, startled. "You, is it? Well, you've still your fare paid to Pittsburgh, so get aboard." He glanced down at my bag. "Did you get yours back? Or is this the other?"

  "It is mine," I said.

  "We're changing horses, but will be off in a minute."

  Before he could go to the kitchen, where he was headed, I stopped him and explained about the attempt to steal my carpetbag and the two men on the road before us.

  "If they hail you," I pleaded, "do not stop for them. They'll just be looking to see if I am aboard."

  "Rest easy," he said. "I'll be stopping for nothing if I can help it, although it is a slow climb up Sidelong Hill, and a narrow road."

  With so few people traveling, I put my carpetbag on the seat beside me, where I could rest an elbow on it and where my second pistol was close. I opened the neck of my reticule a mite to have an easier grasp on the pistol there.

  People got into the stage. I leaned my head back against the seat and closed my eyes. A whip cracked and we went off with a lunge, rumbling over the rough road,, headed for the mountains again.

  I was very tired.

  Chapter 10

  In Pittsburgh I stopped at the same rooming-and-boarding house as on my way east, and Mrs. O'Brien had a fine large room for me in the old house where she lived. Her maid brought a tub and hot water to my room and I bathed, washed my hair, and meanwhile she did the best she could with my traveling dress. It came back to me looking like new.

  No steamboat was leaving that day or the next, so I made inquiries. Mrs. O'Brien suggested I go by way of Wheeling and save some miles of travel. I said nothing to her about Timothy Oats or Elmer.

  Yet she was puzzled by me, for after breakfast I remained in the parlor, looking frequently out of the windows to see if the place was watched. It was unlikely they would find me so soon, but I dared take no chances.

  "What is it, Miss Sackett? Whom do you watch for?"

  For a moment I hesitated, then explained that two men had tried to rob me, and I feared they had followed me. Nevertheless, I must be about my business, and the sooner I returned to my hills, the better.

  "If you wish to go by way of Wheeling," she suggested, "there is a coach leaving from an office on Water Street. It is a new line, but they have several stages."

  "They will be watching the stages," I said, "and the steamboats too, I am afraid."

  A thought came to me. "Coming here, I saw a number of wagons bunched in some vacant lots."

  "Movers." Mrs. O'Brien's tone was disparaging.

  "We all were movers at one time, Mrs. O'Brien," I said. "Even you when you left Ireland."

  "I suppose so, but somehow it seems different."

  "Settled folks always look down upon the unsettled," I said, "but somebody has to open the new lands. When they are settled in their homes, they will feel just as you do." A thought came to mind. "I am going down and look them over."

  "Please! Be careful! A young girl like you! And you have to walk right past Mr. John Irwin's ropewalk. There are some mighty rough men thereabouts."

  "I shall be all right."

  Despite the smoke of the factories, which often hung low over the town, Pittsburgh had a beautiful site. I walked along, my reticule hanging from my shoulder to an inch below my hand.

  At the ropewalk, men were busy making ropes, and although some of them glanced my way, they did not speak. One young man close to the street tipped his cap to me, and I bowed slightly to acknowledge it but did not smile or meet his eyes.

  Beyond were at least two dozen wagons drawn up, where some children were running about, playing. A woman was hanging out her wash, several clothespins in her mouth. She looked very neat despite the work she was doing, and the two children playing nearby were clean and bright-looking.

  I stopped. "Ma'am? May I speak with you a moment?"

  She took the pins from her mouth and made a quick gesture to straighten her hair. "Why, of course. What can I do for you?"

  "You are traveling. Would you by any chance be going toward Wheeling?"

  "As a matter of fact, we are going that way."

  "Ma'am, I want to go to Wheeling, and I can pay you a little." Before she could suggest it, I said, "I do not want to take the stage." Adding, "Some men are following me."

  "It is very crowded, but - "

  "I'm a mountain girl," I said. "I'm used to making do. I'll sit wherever you put me, and I'll help with the cooking. I'll tell stories to the youngsters - "

  "Here comes Ralph, my husband. We will ask him."

  He was a strongly-built man of about thirty-five, a man with a strong, determined look about him, but there was kindness, too.

  "As far as Wheeling? Yes, we can take you." He had given me a quick, searching look. "It will cost you nothing, but if you could help with the children ... ?"

  "I'll help, but I will pay, too," I said. "I will give you three dollars, and two more when we arrive."

  "That's too much," he said. Then he grinned. "But we'll take it. Lord knows, living is expensive. I had hoped to find a job here but have had no luck, and it is too expensive to live here.

  "Why, a simple room would cost me one hundred dollars for the year! One hundred dollars! Can you imagine? And beef is seven cents the pound ... even cornmeal is a dollar the bushel! I can't afford to stay on."

  He glanced at me again. "We have no comforts, you know. It is just wagon travel, and we are loaded."

  "She says she is a mountain girl, Ralph. She may be used to roughing it."

  "Oh, I am! You need not worry about me. I shall try to disturb nothing and keep out of the way. One thing I ask. Don't mention the fact that I am going with you, and I shall join you before daybreak."

  He looked at me again. "These men who are following you. What do they look like?"

  My description was brief, but enough, I know. He nodded. "You'll not worry," he said. "You can stay inside the while, or get out and walk when you wish. I doubt if they will expect you to take that road."

  Mrs. O'Brien was drinking coffee when I came into the kitchen. She gave me a quick look. "There's nobody about. I just looked. Drink your coffee. I've some soup heating up, so you can have a bit before you go."

  "I'll just have time. You've been very kind."

  "Think nothing of it. Just be careful."

  Dark it was, and still. I donned my poke bonnet and peeked from the w
indow. No light showed. It was very dark. Taking the bag in my left hand, I loosened the knot on the reticule and let my fingers grip the Doune pistol.

  The room behind me was dark, and Mrs. O'Brien opened the door very quietly. "Go now, and the good Lord with you!"

  A floorboard in the porch squeaked, and I stood very still, surveying all that was about me. Nothing moved. The air was damp from the river and there was a smell of wet cinders in the air. Tiptoeing down the steps, I started at once. It was three long city blocks to where the wagon waited. The first block was houses, all dark and still at this hour; the second was the ropewalk and a lumberyard with a stable adjoining; then the open area where the wagons waited.

  It was going to be all right. I let go of the pistol and walked swiftly, gathering my skirts, not to let them rustle too much, for I wished to hear any small sound. The reticule dangled from my shoulder again. My carpetbag was heavy. I switched hands with it, but after a half-block, as I came up to the ropewalk, I changed hands again.

  Far ahead of me I could see a faint glow from what must be a lantern. Ralph, harnessing his horses, no doubt. The shadows worried me. A body simply could not see -

  The movement caught my ears too late. Rough hands seized me, and there was bad breath in my face. "Don't you scream, or I'll kill you sure. Now, you just listen to me.

  "Tim is across the town watching at the stage station. You just be a good little girl, and I'll not tell him I found you."

  He spoke softly. "I don't know where you figure on goin' this time of night, but I know what we can do, you an' me. We'll just - "

  Lifting a boot, I stamped down hard on his instep and at the same time smashed back with my head into his face. He was taller than me, but my skull caught him on the chin and he let go, staggering back. Swinging the reticule by its strings, and it carrying my pistol, some shot, and a few coins, I caught him alongside the head. Small I may be, but I've worked hard my life through and am strong. The swinging reticule laid him out in the dust, pretty as you please. He groaned once, started to rise, then fell back. A moment I looked at him, not in the least sorry for him; then I went down and joined them at the wagon.