the Empty Land (1969)

by L'amour, Louis

  She smiled. "That prospector's name was Charley Ramona," she said quietly. "He struck it pretty good, sold out, bought stock in the Denver & Rio Grande, and made a mint of money."

  "How did you make out?"

  She looked up at Matt. "I own half of it," she said, smiling at him. 'Willard & Kingsbury don't know that, Matt When they picked a fight with me they thought I was just a little girl with a fluttery head. I didn't ask for the fight, but I'll own them before I'm through, Matt, and that's the first boast lever made,! think?'

  "Serve them right But you be careful. Willard is me= enough,-but I know Kingsbury he's worse."

  They stood close together, watching the shadows creeping over the land." Matt, what about Pike Sides?" Madge asked suddenly. "Do you know him?"

  "Enough."

  "Can he be trusted? I mean, will he sell out?"

  "No. Once you've hired him, he's your man, but don't make a mistake, Madge. Pike is a whip that can be cracked to make people move, but don't ever let him get a-hold of the handle."

  "Thanks, Matt. And thanks again for back there. It was you who stopped them. They'd have killed me, Matt. I know they would have. Bob Longer was the one who would have done it as if it was an accident."

  He looked surprised.

  "Yes, I knew Longer was hired to do just that. Dolan didn't know anything about that. It was purely Longer." Now the stage started again, picked up its dust cloud, and rolled west. When they came to Eureka they found it was lively and wide open. There were a hundred and twenty-five saloons, fifteen tent shows, and twenty-five gambling houses, all of them going strong.

  Matt was tired. Every muscle sagged with weariness, and his eyes were red-rimmed from staring at the bright, sunlit land. When he swung down from the stage at the Colonnade Hotel, Pike was already helping Madge Healy to the ground.

  "Pike?"

  The gunman turned his eyes upon him. *They'll be in town," Matt said. "'They still want her, and they want those papers."

  "Thanks," Pike said shortly. "You handle your business, an' I'll handle mine."

  "That's all right, Pike," Madge said. I value Mr. Coburn's suggestions. What is it, Matt?"

  He stepped closer, so only she and Pike could hear. "Get a room, then move into a different one. They'll come hunting, you can bet on it"

  "All right, Matt." She looked up at him, her face partly in the shadow. One hand touched his sleeve. "Thanks."

  Dandy Burke helped Matt lower the gold box to the ground. Together they carried it inside and took a room on the ground floor, back of the office.

  "Go ahead and eat," Burke said. "I'll hold the fort. Bring me a sandwich and some coffee when you come back. You tap twice very light, then once hard. I'll open up then if it's your voice."

  Matt handed Burke the shotgun and stepped outside, closing the door. He stood still and glanced in each direction along the corridor. Atone end was the door to the lobby of the hotel; at the other end of the passage was a door that opened onto an alley. He walked back to it, listened, and then opened the door and, after a glance, stepped out.

  After studying the street with care, he walked down to a small restaurant, where he took a table in the back. Seated with his back to the wall, and facing the door, he ate a good meal.

  When he left he walked through the kitchen and used the back door to get out. He stopped by several of the saloons, merely glancing in over the doors, and then going on. With the quick skill of a man who had been marshal of more than one town, be was able to assay at a glance the people inside the saloons.

  As he went along the street, he almost automatically scanned the brands on the horses, and studied the rigs and their contents. Any town marshal worth his salt could in a few minutes detect the presence of strangers, of long riders, or drifters, even in a town that was strange to him.

  Matt knew Eureka from past experience, and the men who were here, like those who were now in Confusion, had been known to him in other camps, either by name or reputation. And each one bore the stamp of his kind, whether he realized it or not.

  Matt was looking for potential trouble, and he found it. In the fourth saloon he saw Harry Meadows leaning against the bar. He walked in and stopped alongside Meadows. Buy a drink, Harry," Matt said.

  "Co ahead. It's your money." And Meadows straightened a little as he spoke, to stand taller beside the taller man. He turned, leaning one elbow on the bar. "You had you some grief."

  "Was that you up on the rock?" Matt asked evenly. "Uh-huh." Meadows picked up his drink "I had me a Winchester, too."

  "I figured you did. rd never worry about you, Harry. Not that way. You're just not the type."

  Harry Meadows, who was honest with himself, was not sure just what this meant, but he was pleased. "Who was it down there?" he asked. "Bob Longer?"

  "Yeah."

  "He's been leadin' up to it." Meadows turned his glass, tracing a ring on the bar. "You goin' all the way to Carson with it?"

  "Uh-huh. Pike Sides, too. He's riding shotgun for Madge Healy."

  Meadows was puzzled. "Madge? The kid actress? That dancer?"

  "Yeah, only she isn't a kid any longer, and she has enemies. Her enemies are Willard & Kingsbury."

  "She's in trouble, then." Meadows was silent for a few minutes, and then he said, "Matt, I always liked that kid. She gave a lot of entertainment where there wasn't anybody else, and she'd dance until she dropped if the boys asked for it. And you've always been a square-shooter."

  "What are you getting at?"

  & Kingsbury. They've been hiring. I don't know what the deal is, but a couple of my boys have been approached. They want men who aren't afraid of a fight, a dirty fight. Ike Fletcher has been hiring for them."

  Ike Fletcher was a claim-jumper, a dangerous man in any kind of a fight. If he was hiring men, the chances were it was some kind of a mine fight.

  "Where are they going?"

  "I don't know, but my guess would be Confusion. One of my boys doesn't want to go to Arizona. He's wanted there, and in Colorado too. When he told them that they said he wouldn't have to worry. He wouldn't be traveling far."

  Matt finished his drink. He had been in the saloon about as long as he ever allowed himself to be in one. "Harry, I've got to drift." He put his glass down. "I hope I don't see you again for a while."

  Meadows grinned. "Now, that ain't a threat, is it, Matt?"

  "You know better. Fact is, the way I think about you, I wouldn't like to look over a gun at you."

  "You won't get the chance, Matt, not even for that hundred thousand you're carrying. If anybody bothers you, remember this: it won't be me."

  Matt turned, gave a quick glance around the room and went out, looking neither to right nor left. Only a fool goes looking for trouble, and his life had brought him more than enough, and knowing how to recognize possible trouble meant 'mowing how to avoid it. Even to meet the glance of some men was an invitation to trouble, for to them it was a challenge to which they must respond.

  This watchfulness in Matt was no new thing, but it was something that had been growing in him with the realization that not only had he enemies, but that being a known gunfighter made him fair game for anyone. He knew that men who killed gunfighters or gunmen, no matter what the conditions, were rarely punished for it. Back at the hotel, Matt entered by the front door, and went along to get several sandwiches, a pot of coffee, and cups. With these he went back to the room and rapped at the door with the arranged signal.

  Dandy Burke was seated in a chair tilted against the wall facing the door. The shotgun was across his knees. "Figured you'd forgotten me,' he grumbled. "It seemed a long time."

  "I saw Harry Meadows. He won't bother us." Burke looked up sharply. "I didn't hear any shootin'.* "We talked, that was all. Meadows wants to win. That's why he's still around. The man never took an unnecessary chance in his life. Too many crooks think things are going to be just the way they would like them to be. He'll take the stage some day when there's less money on it, and n
o guard or somebody else than me or Eugene Blair. Nobody wants to deal with Blair."

  'I drove with him a couple of times."

  Burke ate, and then stretched out on the cot. Almost at once he was asleep. Matt tilted back in his chair, and kept the room dark. He finished the coffee, ate the sandwich Burke had left, and after that he took off his boots and coat. He was hanging up his coat when he heard somebody try the knob.

  "Go ahead," he said quietly, "if you feel lucky." The floor creaked, and there was silence. Prospecting, he thought just somebody prospecting a little.

  Chapter 11

  At Austin they were Joined by Hank Weber, and the coach rolled on, with Weber driving and Burke sleeping inside. Thunder rolled, rains lashed the coach, flash floods ripped the trail asunder, but somehow the drivers found a way around and the coach kept moving. Through it all, Matt Coburn rode the top, sleeping when stops were made if it was possible, but always alert. They reached Carson City and the gold was delivered. Madge Healy got down from the stage, Pike Sides standing near.

  "Matt," she said, 'can I ride back with your He looked at her, his eyes red-rimmed and weary. "You know you can. And if you have trouble here you send for me."

  "I'll handle any trouble," Pike cut in. "She won't need anybody else."

  "The offer stands," Matt responded.

  I'll remember," Madge said. Her eyes were soft as she looked at him. "'Thanks, Matt. I don't have many friends."

  "You will have. You were loyal to that old man, the one who got your papers back. Loyalty brings friends, Madge."

  He stood there on the street, a lonely man, watching her go. Tucker Dolan joined him. "I'm out of a job," he said wryly. "They didn't like the way it was handled." `They should try it themselves," Matt said. "Have you heard anything about them hiring fighters?"

  Dolan gave him a quick glance. "It's trouble, Matt, real trouble. They didn't want me. I guess I wasn't bloody enough, but they've hired Kendrick and some others. I'd say they've got fifteen tough men."

  "Do you know why?"

  "No . . . they don't tell us anything. All I know is that Madge Healy is the center of it. Did you know she was in the mining game?"

  "Up to her pretty ears," Matt replied.

  "Then she'd better get out of it. They'll eat her alive." "Don't bet on it." Matt looked hard at Dolan. "Are you going back to Confusion? If you do, stick around a few days. I may have a deal for you. I may need a tough man who can stand still for trouble, and who doesn't go off half-cocked."

  Matt slept that afternoon and through most of the night. When he woke before daybreak the town was quiet. A light tapping came at the door.

  Madge Healy stood there when he opened it. She stepped in quickly. "Put on your pants, Matt. You look like the devil in those long johns."

  "I wasn't expecting a lady."

  "Thanks for the compliment. I try to be a lady, but sometimes it isn't easy. Matt, I want to go back to Confusion. I want to go now, and I want to go fast."

  "We weren't figuring on making a run for it," Matt said. "We had that, remember?"

  "It has to be that way, Matt. Things are getting rough, and they're going to get worse."

  Briefly, he told her what he had heard from Harry Meadows, and from Tucker Dolan. She listened in silence. After a moment she walked across to the window as he hurriedly splashed water on his face, combed his hair and put on a shirt.

  ".1 didn't know it had gone that far, Matt. but you're one of the few friends I've got. Matt, I own the Treasure Vault, and I own other claims. They're big and they're rich. Willard & Kingsbury have moved in on me. They bought the Balzac from Big Thompson "

  "I thought Frenchy Bezant owned it."

  "When did that ever stop Thompson? He picked a fight with Frenchy and killed him."

  "So?"

  "They're claiming that my Treasure Vault is on their Balzac vein."

  "Is Pike still with you?"

  "Yes."

  He buckled on his guns. "All right, Madge. Let's get Burke and Weber."

  She looked up at him. "They're over there already with the team, Matt, or should be. I was sure you'd help, so I sent Pike to round them up."

  The team was hitched when Matt came walking up, shotgun in hand. He helped Madge into the coach and Pike Sides walked out of the barn and got in beside her, with Weber. Matt swung up and Burke cracked his whip. The stage started with a lunge. It rolled up the draw, and turned along the hillside toward the temporary Wells Fargo office.

  In Austin they picked up another passenger. James Hoyt was a mining engineer working out of Denver, representing various New York investment houses from time to time. It had been several years since he had seen Madge Healy perform, and he did not recognize the young woman who sat opposite him. She, however, knew him at once, and was familiar with mining-camp gossip and knew his business.

  "Do you often travel in the west" she asked demurely. "Oh, yes. My company sends me out to investigate properties they contemplate buying, or in which they might invest."

  "I don't know much about Confusion," she said. "Is it really a serious mining town? I mean, are the mines there any good?"

  "Some of them, I expect The samples of ore I've seen showed excellent values."

  Gently, she led him on to talk of his work, bringing him back again and again to Confusion. Finally he said, "I will not be there very long. Perhaps we might go for a drive? I could show you the country, and if you are interested in mining I could explain the geology to you." "I'd love that!"

  Pike Sides had been looking out the window, but now he turned his head to look at her, puzzled by her act of innocence.

  "Do you have only one mine to consider?" she asked. "I heard there was a very rich one there, the Discovery, I think they called it" She paused. "Are you actually going to buy a mine?"

  "As a matter of fact," Hoyt said, "I might buy or invest I have the authority here." He tapped his coat pocket He was aware he was talking too much, but Pike was obviously just a drifting gunman, and this girl she was scarcely more than a child was so interested. Not in mines, he was sure, so it must be in himself. He expanded a little, talking easily of ores, drifts, hanging walls, and timbering, and Madge listened, her eyes wide and beautiful.

  "I love to hear a man talk about what he is interested in," she said. "One learns so much! And I love the names of the mines! I wonder where they get all those names?" The ride from Austin to Confusion was a long and dusty one, and Pike Sides soon fell asleep. In the intimacy of the coach, sitting opposite a beautiful girl, James Hoyt continued to talk. Among other things he advised her to keep off the streets in Confusion there might be some shooting, he believed. It seemed there was some argument over claims and over who held them. But he was going to the town to check on several.

  Again Madge brought up the subject of names, and Hoyt mentioned the Treasure Vault "As a matter of fact," he said, "if it measures up to the assays, we expect to buy it from the new owners."

  "So you won't be in town long?"

  "I'm leaving the twelfth," Hoyt said. "Can we take our drive before then?"

  "We will have to see. I will be living on a ranch. I have a friend there" she picked the name up quickly "a young woman named Laurie Shannon. Do you know of her?"

  "I know the name." Hoyt was reassured. He did know the name, and knew that the Shannon girl lived on a ranch and had no concern with mines or mining.

  When the stage drew to a halt before the Wells Fargo office in Confusion, Newt Clyde stepped up to meet it Matt Coburn swung down first, then Pike Sides. Hoyt stepped down and helped Madge to the ground. "By the way," he said, "I don't even know your name."

  She smiled up at him. "It's Healy," she said sweetly, "Madge Healy."

  His face stiffened. He knew of Madge Healy, but he had thought of her as older, harder, and not nearly so attractive. He vaguely remembered hearing of Madge Healy in connection with several mining towns. He had thought "I see," he said awkwardly.

  She smiled brightly. "I
hope you do, Mr. Hoyt it will save you and your firm a lot of money and a lot of trouble. Willard & Kingsbury do not own the Treasure Vault, and they will never own it."

  She turned away abruptly and, accompanied by a grinning Pike Sides, walked down the street, with Hoyt staring after them.

  "That that is Madge Healy? She isn't dry behind the ears yet!"

  Matt smiled. "It seems to me you just found out different And take my advice believe what she told you."

  "I came a long way to make that deal," Hoyt replied with some uncertainty, "and my people aren't going to like it if I don't close it"

  "They'll like it less if you lose their shirt," Clyde observed dryly.

  Matt Coburn looked down the dusty street. Along the edges of the buildings some desert growth remained, and somebody had taken the time to dig the rocks from the street. In front of several of the buildings a crude boardwalk had been built, but the street itself needed considerably more work.

  He knew the sounds of such towns. Each had its own tone, its own particular hum. Though the shadings might be different, the sounds were the same the pound of a compressor or a stamp mill, the sound of hammers, the squeak and rattle of a pump or a windlass. The tin-panny sounds of the music boxes or pianos, the strident, unmusical voices singing, the rattle of glasses, loud voices raised in argument, the crash of broken glass, the noise of wheels rolling and bumping over rocks, the creak of saddle leather, the hoof-falls, the sounds of hard heels on the boardwalks ... The sounds were the same, and he could wake at almost any hour and know the time just by the sounds.

  He knew, too, the sound of trouble coming, he could feel it in the air, just as a wild animal feels the coming of a storm. And he could feel it now. This town was coming apart at the seams.

  He had seen towns come, and he had seen them go. Some had died a-boring from too much law or too much religion, some had committed suicide from lack of any law at all; some the changing of trails had killed, and some had died from water-filled shafts, from the playing out of ore ... some from lack of faith.

  In this town the lawlessness had been casual, caused by a few men who were violent some deliberately so, some simply because of too much liquor, too much need to let off steam. So far, some men had been callous, others had been heedless, some few had been deliberately murderous. Now it was beginning to change. There was nothing to put a damper on the town, and now it was edging toward anarchy.