The Collected Short Stories of Louis L'Amour, Volume 3

by Louis L'Amour

  Although reluctant to lie down, Ruth suddenly found herself so exhausted that she began to doze almost as soon as she touched the bunk. Danny drew a blanket over her and squatted at the foot of the bunk, his back against the wall.

  A slow hour paraded past. The scarred man got up and muttering something about wood for the fire, went out. Shain was asleep, sitting against the wall. The big man followed the scarred man after the wood, and Olin Short threw the last stick on the fire and leaning close to Danny, said quietly, “Watch yourself. The big hombre is Casselman. The mean one is the devil of the lot … he’s Papago Brown.”

  “Where do you stand?”

  Short’s face hardened. “Only to help that girl. I’ll see no woman wronged. Least of all, any girl of Gurney’s.”

  “Good.”

  The door opened and the two men came in and dropped two armfuls of wood near the fireplace. Casselman looked down at her. “Looks mighty purty, lyin’ there.”

  Danny got slowly to his feet. A new cigarette was in the corner of his mouth. “Stay away from her,” he said.

  Casselman’s big head turned to look over his shoulder. He chuckled, a slow, sneering chuckle. “You’d stop me?”

  Papago was still near the door. Danny nodded coolly, “I sure would, Casselman. You make a move toward her, and I’ll kill you. I’ll shoot low down, Casselman, and I couldn’t miss.

  “As for Papago,” he added, “if he doesn’t get his hand off that gun butt, I’ll kill him now.”

  Casselman laughed and Brown stared at Danny, smiling. “That stuff about those three skeletons didn’t faze us,” Papago said. “We’re goin’ to call your bluff.”

  “All right,” Danny said, “but did you ever hear of Lonigan missing?”

  “Lonigan?”

  At the name, Ruth Gurney was suddenly wide-awake. Who had said it? To whom? Papago Brown’s face was white and Casselman moved slowly away from the fire.

  “Can’t be!” Shain was awake. “We heard—”

  “Shut up!” Casselman turned on him in a fury.

  “I know what you heard,” Danny said quietly. “You heard I wouldn’t be with them this trip. Ever figure you might be double-crossed? That your partner might figure on warning the G of you to put himself in solid?”

  Nobody said anything, and after a minute Casselman picked up a couple of sticks and tossed them on the fire. Shain stared at him, then at Papago Brown. “I’m going to sleep,” he said, and added significantly, “and I mean sleep!”

  “I reckon,” Short said quietly, “that’s a good idea. For all of us.”

  Nobody said anything for several minutes, while the girl lay breathless, feeling the tension in the room. The fire crackled and a stick fell, sending up a thin column of sparks. A wrong move could turn this room into a red-laced hell from which none of them might emerge alive. Both Brown and Casselman knew that, for it would be point-blank shooting here.

  Casselman sat down abruptly and began to pull off his boots. “I reckon,” he said, “rest is the first thing.”

  Twice during the night Danny dozed lightly, but he was back in the shadows, and a watcher could not have told whether he dozed or whether the eyes were watchful from under his hat’s low brim.

  It was scarcely gray in the east when he touched her boot. Like a wraith he moved beside the bunk. “Come!” he whispered, and she followed him.

  After the stuffy air of the tightly closed room the morning was like wine in her lungs. The rain had broken, and there were scattered clouds with fire along their edges in the east. Swiftly, he saddled their horses and they took the trail.

  Several times she glanced at him. “Did somebody speak of Lonigan last night? I thought I heard the name.”

  “Could be,” he said, with the flush of the rising sun on his face. “I’ve heard the name, and I reckon,” he smiled a little, “they had heard it, too!”

  The drum of hoofs on the turf warned them and they looked up to see Calkins and Laredo Lee riding toward them. They drew up sharply when they saw she was not alone, and she had the feeling that Danny made some sharp signal from behind her back. “You all right?” Calkins demanded abruptly. “We was some worried.”

  “All right,” she said. “This is Danny. He knows the Circle G.”

  “Yeah, I remember him,” Calkins said. “Laredo, you ride on ahead with the boss. I want to make talk with Danny.”

  When they were well ahead, Calkins turned on him. “You son of a gun! Where you been? We need you the worst way.”

  “Not so bad as you will,” Danny replied, and then went on to tell of the riders in the cabin. “And there’d been others there before them. When we came up I saw the tracks of maybe six or eight riders.”

  “She know who you are?”

  Danny shook his head. “Doubt it. My name was mentioned last night, but I don’t believe she quite got it. Not that it matters. Hoey will know me.”

  “He might not. You’ve changed, Lonigan. Changed a sight since he saw you. He was gone East, you know, an’ you filled out a good bit, and you are some taller, too. Then … well, there’s a different look about you. He might not be sure.”

  The herd came in sight and they drew up on the brow of the hill, looking down at them. “Reckon he knowed about that grass and water?” Calkins asked.

  “He knew. He scouted it a couple of days ago. I spotted the herd quite a ways back, and when I saw what trail they were takin’ I hung back, curious. Then I saw the old man wasn’t with you and a girl was. So I waited, sizing up the layout.”

  “You figure he aims to steal the herd?”

  “No … to buy it cheap. To get her scared of goin’ broke, then making her an offer. He won’t steal it unless all else fails. But chances are he’d steal the money back if he did buy it. He’s deliberately kept this herd on the used-up trails to wear ’em down and scare her into a quick sale.”

  The herd pushed on into the brightening day, and Lonigan kept always on the far side of the herd from Hoey Ives. Calkins, riding near Ruth, warned her to say nothing of the new rider to Hoey. She glanced at him, and her chin lifted resentfully. Then she pulled on ahead.

  Still, she was worried. What had the strange riders been doing in that cabin? Wasn’t what she had heard true? That riders loitering in this area without herds were suspect? And that bunch! She was well aware that only the presence of the mysterious Danny had prevented trouble, and some curious understanding there was between Danny and those men. Could they be working together? Could all of that have been an elaborate pretense to get him with the herd?

  Hoey cantered his horse up to her and glanced at her sharply. “You all right? I was off looking in the other direction and just got back. We were all worried.”

  “I’m all right. Hoey,” she asked suddenly, “why are we following this route? Why don’t we go west to that valley? There’s grass there.”

  He seemed astonished. “Grass? There is? I can’t believe it! The last time I came over this trail it was a canyon of dust.” He paused, then said, “If there’s grass, of course we’ll go. I’ll turn the herd.”

  “Wait.” She hesitated, then shook away her doubts. “Hoey, we’ve a new rider.”

  “What?” He drew up, his face stiff. “Where’d you get him?”

  “I met him last night. There were some men in the cabin where we took shelter. He seemed to know them. A man named Casselman and one called Papago Brown.”

  “This rider knew them?” He seemed relieved, and Ruth watched him, puzzled and doubtful. “He’s probably a good hand. I’ll talk to him later. We can use the help.”

  The clouds did not leave, but hung low, bulging and ominous. Yet it was not cool, but sultry with heat. Ruth kept again to the crests, yet was glad when the first of the herd spilled over into the canyon and headed for the thin trickle of the stream. They waded into it, scattering along the stream for three-quarters of a mile, drinking, then moving out to crop the green grass.

  Calkins rode up to her. “Why not be
d down here?” he asked. “Let ’em get their fill? They’ll drive easier tomorrow.”

  She moved back toward the chuck wagon and saw Laredo Lee already there, watching the cook make coffee. He looked up at her, a thin, sandy man with large freckles and cool blue eyes. He had been riding for the Circle G for three years and made the last drive with her father. “I hear you aim to make Ives foreman,” he said, glancing at her. “If you do, why, figure to hire a man to take my place.”

  “I’d be sorry to lose you, Laredo,” she said sincerely. Then she turned on him. “Well, who would you want for foreman?”

  He grinned. “Why, this new man. Danny would do. The boys like him.”

  “Oh, no! Not him!” She accepted a cup of coffee and watched Hoey come riding up to the fire. He looked angry and he swung down from the saddle; then he walked over to her.

  “Look,” he said, “finding this grass an’ water is a break, but I happen to know there isn’t much of it. You are only halfway to Dodge and have rough country and trouble ahead. There’s no need to make this drive. I’ll buy your herd.”

  “You?” She was startled. “Why?” She looked up at him, puzzled. “For how much?”

  “Four dollars a head. Right here and now. In cash.”

  “Four dollars?” She shook her head. “That’s ridiculous! They will bring five times that in Dodge.”

  “If they are fat. If they get there. But what if you lose three or four hundred head?”

  Laredo Lee stood silent, watching Ruth with keen eyes. He wanted to speak, but was wise enough to know it was not the time. This was Ruth Gurney’s problem. A moment later Lee was stifling his grin in the coffee cup.

  “No, Hoey,” she replied calmly, “I’ll not quit now. These cattle started for Dodge and they will go to Dodge. My father never quit a trail drive in his life, and I won’t.”

  Ives’s face hardened and grew impatient. “Ruth, you don’t know what you’re gettin’ into! Why, we haven’t hit the hard part yet! There’s Kiowas and Comanches up ahead, and that’s to say nothin’ of the rustlers.”

  “Boss,” Lee spoke softly, “Mr. Ives ain’t been over a trail with the G afore. He don’t know how we are.” The blue eyes were deceptively mild now as they looked at Hoey. “The G,” he explained, “figures it’s plumb salty. Why, we welcome a little brush with Indians. As for rustlers, we eat ’em up! The old man,” he added affectionately, “liked a good fight. Last couple of drives he put most of that on Lonigan’s shoulders.”

  “Well,” Ives snapped, “Lonigan ain’t here now! If he was,” he sneered so openly that Ruth looked at him in surprise, “he couldn’t do much!”

  “Maybe,” a new voice said, “you’re right. Again, maybe you’re not.”

  All turned. Calkins had come up, and several of the other hands, but it was Danny Lonigan who spoke. He stood alone in the middle of a little open space near the wagon, a tall young man, narrow in the hips and wide in the shoulder. He stood with his boots together, one knee slightly bent, his hands busied with rolling a cigarette.

  Hoey Ives stared. Slowly, doubt, dismay, and uncertainty colored his features. “Who’re you?” he demanded.

  “Why, you remember me, Hoey,” Lonigan said quietly, “I whupped the socks off you one time at a dance. That was afore you went away. You were trailin’ with that big Casselman then, an’ figured it made you some tough. You’ll recall it didn’t help you none.”

  Ives’s lips tightened and his eyes grew cold. “So you came back, did you? Well, I’m the boss here now. You work for the G, you work for me.”

  “No,” Lonigan said quietly, “I work for the lady boss. She’s the Circle G, Ives, and from the way she stopped you on that offer to buy her out, I reckon she’ll do to ride the river with. The old man,” he said, “evidently bred true. I’ll ride for her, Ives. Not for you.”

  “I reckon that speaks my piece,” Laredo Lee interposed quietly.

  “And mine,” Calkins said.

  Hoey Ives’s face flushed. Then he laughed. “Well, that’s fine! I wanted to be rid of you! I’ve got a bunch of boys ready to take over, and I’ll have them in here by sundown. You boys can pack your duffle and hit the trail.”

  “No.”

  Ruth Gurney spoke in a clear, definite voice. All eyes turned to her. “Calkins told me something the other day that I’ve been thinking of. He said it was the hands that made the brand, the men who fought for it, worked for it, bled for it. They had a stake in the brand, and it was something above and beyond ownership. I believe that.

  “Hoey, I’m sorry. You’ll have to step out of your job. I want you with us, but not in charge of the work. I’ve made my decision and I’ll abide by it.” She turned her head. “Calkins, you take over. You’re the foreman for the rest of the drive.”

  “But …?” Calkins started to protest when Lonigan cut him short.

  “Take it,” he said briefly. “Let’s move!”

  “All right,” Calkins said, pointing, “roll the wagon into that hollow under the cliff. We’ll bed down here and roll ’em up the trail tomorrow.”

  Hoey Ives turned abruptly and stalked angrily away. Ruth took a step as though to follow, then turned back to the wagon. Her eyes met those of Lonigan. “Why didn’t you tell me who you were?” she demanded impatiently. “I’d heard of you.”

  “What could I have said?” He shrugged. “Anyway, I’m with the drive again, and workin’ with the G.” He glanced at her quizzically. “Or, am I?”

  “Ask Calkins,” she returned sharply. “He does the hiring!”

  Throughout the day she saw no more of Ives, although she knew he was about. The hands rested when they were not riding herd, all but Danny Lonigan. He cleaned his guns carefully, then his rifle. After that he went to work and repaired a wooden bucket that had been broken the day before, and mended a halter. Several times he mounted and rode up to the rim of the canyon and sat there, studying the country.

  Calkins stopped by her seat just before sundown. “What do you think, Calkins? Will we get the herd through?”

  He hesitated, then nodded slowly. “I wouldn’t want to get your hopes up, but I think so. Maybe this grass won’t hold, but we’ll chance it, although come rain we’d have to get to high ground. If there’s much of this grass, we’ll make it, all right. But it will be a tough squeeze and you won’t make much money.”

  Lonigan walked slowly over to them, and as he drew near, he removed his sombrero. “Ma’am,” he said, “I couldn’t but overhear what was said. If … if you’ll let me make a suggestion …”

  “I hope,” Ruth said with dignity, “that I am always open to suggestions. Yes, you may. What is it?”

  “Why, just don’t sell your herd atall!” he said calmly. “Hang onto it. You’re gettin’ to Dodge at the bad end of the season; prices will be down and your herd in plumb bad shape. I’d say, hold your cows until next spring, hold ’em on Nebraska grass, then fetch ’em back to market, fat as ticks.”

  Ruth Gurney shook her head. “It is a good suggestion,” she admitted, “but I can’t. Until I sell this herd I can’t pay any of you. And I owe mortgage on the ranch.”

  Lonigan shook his head. “Nuh-uh. Ma’am, I know an hombre in Dodge who knows a good deal when he sees it. He’ll advance the money and take a mortgage on your herd. You can pay up when you sell out. You’ll have fat stock and the first market in the spring. Believe me, you’ll get twice what you could get with a good herd now, let alone this scrawny lot. And you’ll have calves,” he added.

  “Excellent idea,” Hoey Ives said quietly. He had come up unobserved. “In fact, that was what I planned to do … and what I’ll still do.”

  Four men were ranged behind him, four men with rifles. Two more stood by the wagon, facing toward the herd. While the riders had watched for horsemen they had slipped up on foot, working their way through the brush like Indians.

  Lonigan’s eyes went to the rifles, then the riflemen. “You’re tryin’ to get yourself killed, Hoey. N
ow take your boys and light a shuck.”

  Ives chuckled. “Oh, no! We’ve got our herd. When your boys hear us call, they’ll come in. They’ll never know what hit ’em!”

  “You mean,” Danny Lonigan’s voice was casual, “like this?” His hands flashed for his guns, and for one startled instant, every man froze. Then as one person, Ruth dropped to the ground and Ives, Calkins, and Lee grabbed iron.

  It was Lonigan’s sudden move that decided it. His first two shots knocked Casselman staggering and his third dropped Shain dead in his tracks. “Drop it, Short!” Lonigan yelled, and switched both guns to Papago Brown.

  Then, suddenly, it was all over and where the cannonade of guns had sounded there was stillness, and somewhere down the valley, a quail called plaintively in the late dusk. Gunpowder left an acrid smell that mingled with the woodsmoke of the freshly built fire.

  Danny Lonigan looked down at Hoey Ives. Caught in the crossfire of Calkins’s and Lee’s guns, he had been riddled with bullets before he could more than fire his first shot.

  Ruth, lying on her face, had a rifle on the two startled men near the wagon. The cook held an old muzzle-loading Civil War rifle on them, too.

  Calkins swore softly. “You oughta give a man warnin’, Lonigan,” he objected. “That was too sudden. They might have got us all!”

  “Nuh-uh,” Lonigan said quietly. “You see, I noticed that they were depending on the warning of the rifles. They didn’t really expect anybody to take a chance. You see,” he grinned grimly, “I noticed that none of their rifles were cocked! I knew I could get off several shots before they could cock and aim again.”

  “Yeah,” Laredo said, “and what about Ives? What did you think he’d be doin’?”

  “What he is doin’,” Lonigan said quietly. “You see, I’ve rode the trail with you hombres before. Nobody needed to tell me what would happen. I knew.”