The Storm Family 6
Page 17
So Aragon was burned to the ground. A period of her life had come to an end. There was no future for her here. She thought about the fate of the people who depended upon her. She had to plan for their future. Without money, she did not know what she could do except sell the land.
She did not know where she would go. Get a job someplace. Earn an honest living like so many other women had to. But it was not easy to face the fact that affluence and power had been snatched from her by the men she had sheltered.
There was Martin Storm to be considered. If he were alive ... If he was not a liar like other men ...
As she sat there, she faced the truth that her confidence in herself had been shaken. Her vision of herself had been wiped out. She had to accustom herself to the unpleasant truth that she wasn’t half the woman she had thought herself. Confidence might return in time, but now...
A faint sound caught her ears.
It could have been the chink of a horseshoe on rock.
She stood up and walked away from the sounds of the house so that she could hear better. And she heard another sound and this time she knew for certain that she heard the music of bridle-chains. She turned and ran back into the house. The two Mexicans were playing cards by the light of a lamp.
“Jesus Maria,” she said, “there are riders coming.”
Both men rose to their feet and picked up their rifles. One turned the lamp low and took up his position at the window. The other slipped out through the doorway and disappeared into the darkness. If there were enemies coming, they would be caught in a crossfire.
Linda walked forward from the post and stood listening. The horses were close enough for her to know that there were several of them. As she waited, she saw their dim forms appear in the starlight.
“¿Quien es?” she called.
There was a slight pause and her heart thundered in her breast. At last she heard the name—“Martin.”
She was running then, hearing the Mexicans exclaiming behind her. Out of the darkness came tired men on tired horses. Martin was on foot, leading a horse bearing two men. Behind were other men, mounted. Two of them.
Mart said: “It’s finished, Aragon. We have Styree an’ we have your gold.”
He handed the line to Jesus Maria. Valdez came running from the house rifle in hand, praising the Virgin for the deliverance of the men.
Mart said: “Take the prisoners up to the house. Watch ’em. They’re hurt, but watch ’em just the same.”
Horses and men went slowly by. Mart and the woman faced each other.
“Gregorio,” he said, “is he still alive?”
“Yes. McCord is hurt too.”
“Will they pull through?”
“I think so.”
“Jody?”
“A few days and he will ride back to Three Creeks with you.”
“Thank God for that,” he said. “Will’d make jerky of me if anythin’ happened to that damned brat of his. Well, Aragon, you have the gold, you can start back tomorrow and begin rebuilding.”
“No,” she said, “I’ll never go back. That’s all over. I have to get back into the world, I guess. I’ve dodged it long enough.”
“I was thinkin’ along the same lines,” he said. He rubbed his unshaven jaw with his fingers and she heard the crisp rasping sound. “How about your people?”
“I have come to a decision about them. Gregorio shall have the gold. He can rebuild on Aragon. The people have worked well. Let them share in it. Gregorio is capable of running the place on his own.”
“Where you headed?”
“San Francisco, the East. It doesn’t matter.”
“How’s about Three Creeks?”
She started.
“I have no money to buy land,” she said.
“I homesteaded a section for brother Will,” he told her. “There’s that and free-range. Time I settled down.”
“Are you saying?”
“You know exactly what I’m sayin’.”
“This isn’t the smooth-talking speechifying Texas gentleman who took wine with me and set Serafina all of a-flutter.”
“You want him?”
“No.”
“Will I do?”
“Nobody else ever proposed to me.”
“There’s a first time for everythin’.”
“You’d marry an outlaw’s daughter?”
He chuckled.
“For that matter, though I hold a federal warrant for Styree, in some states I reckon I’m still an outlaw.”
He reached out a hand for her and she came against him. His arm went around her shoulder. They started toward the house.
“I’m sure glad I was shot up that night,” he said.
They went on toward the lights of the house, both of them with a period of their lives finished, both of them starting on a new one.
About the Author
Peter Christopher Watts was born in London, England in 1919 and died on Nov. 30, 1983. He was educated in art schools in England, then served with the British Amy in Burma from 1940 to 1946.
Peter Watts, the author of more than 150 novels, is better known by his pen names of "Matt Chisholm" and "Cy James". He published his first western novel under the Matt Chisholm name in 1958 (Halfbreed). He began writing the "McAllister" series in 1963 with The Hard Men, and that series ran to 35 novels. He followed that up with the "Storm" series. And used the Cy James name for his "Spur" series.
Under his own name, Peter Watts wrote Out of Yesterday, The Long Night Through, and Scream and Shout. He wrote both fiction and nonfiction books, including the very useful nonfiction reference work, A Dictionary of the Old West (Knopf, 1977).
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Read more in the STORM FAMILY SAGA
1. Stampede
2.Hard Texas Trail
3.Riders West
4.One Notch to DFeath
5. One Man, One Gun