Son Of a Wanted Man (1984)

by L'amour, Louis

  It was foolish to be afraid. Still By day anyone approaching could be seen for some distance, but at night?

  “I’ll speak to the men,” she said, “after supper.” Juliana left the room and Dru walked slowly back to the window. Standing at one side she could still see far down the valley, but in a few minutes it would be too dark.

  Now she was feeling it, too. Suddenly she turned and went to leer room. From her duffel she took a derringer her father had given her, and checked it.

  Loaded, and both barrels. She slipped it into her skirt pocket. It was lonely! Where was pa?

  He had warned them not to expect him at any particular time but that he would come. They could depend on that. Of late Drusilla had been doing some wondering of her own. Several times her father had met them at the ranch, but it was not until the last time that she had noticed anything strange. The first thing was his horse. Pa said he had come far, but his horse did not look it or act it. Thinking back she remembered that his horses had never seemed hard ridden, yet if pa came from somewhere near, where could it be?

  There was nothing near. There was only wilderness.

  She looked down the valley again. Now all was darkness, with only a few stars hanging in the sky.

  Supper was a quiet meal. None of them felt like talking very much, but then her mother had never been much of a talker. “How did you meet Papa?” Dru asked suddenly.

  “Papa? Oh-?” Her mother hesitated, then laughed.

  “It was at a party, back in Texas. Some riders stopped by, and of course, everybody was welcome in those days, so we invited them to join us.

  “We danced, talked a little, and finally ate supper together. Two of the men who came with him stayed with their horses, although once in a while one of the others would change places so they could come in and enjoy the party, too.

  “He was so big! And so very good looking! He wasn’t from anywhere around there, and when I asked him he said he was from Colorado but he had been back farther east to buy cattle.

  “They left before daylight but he was back a week later, but that time he was alone. He stayed several days and we went driving and riding, and something about him kind of scared the others away. There were several young men who-was “Courted you?” “You could call it that. But after he came they were all frightened away.” “He frightened them? What did he do?” “Oh, nothing, really. There was just something about him.

  He was very romantic, you know. So mysterious! He would come, stay around a while, then be gone.” “He is still mysterious,” Dru said quietly.

  Her mother glanced up quickly, defensively. “Not really. His work just keeps him away. I have always understood that.” When supper was over, Dru went out back. The door of the bunkhouse was open, and Voyle Ragan was coming toward her.

  “Uncle Voyle? When will papa be here?” “I don’t know, honey. He can’t always get here when he wants. What’s the trouble?” “Juliana is scared. I don’t know why, but she is. She says something’s wrong, and when she feels that way she is usually right.” He was a tall, lean man. He managed the ranch, talked little, but was a kindly, thoughtful man.

  “Nothing to worry about,” he said. “Not many folks even know about this place. We don’t see many strangers. his She was silent. If she were to ask, would he tell her? “Uncle Voyle-?” She hesitated.

  “What does papa really do?” She watched him turn his head and glance down the canyon, then he said quietly, “Why, you know as well as I do. He buys cattle, drives ‘em sometimes, sells ‘em to the best buyer. He does right well, but it keeps him on the road.” He spoke hastily, before she could interrupt.

  “He never talks business at home. It just ain’t his way. Buyin” like he. does he goes out to ranches, deals with some pretty rough men, time to time. Sometimes he buys an’ sells cows without ever movin’ “em. Knows the buyer before he buys.

  He’s a shrewd man.” “I believe he is. I believe you are, too, Uncle Voyle, and that story will satisfy mama and Juliana but not me. I want to know where papa is, and I want to know why he always comes from over toward the canyon.” “Where’d you get that idea?” “I’ve seen him. Once when I was riding I saw him coming up through the draw. And when he gets here after those long rides his horses are always so fresh.” Voyle Ragan was disturbed. For years he had been afraid of this. Juliana would accept things as they seemed to be, but not Drusilla. She was like her father, and missed nothing.

  “Have you talked to anybody else about this?” “Who would I talk to? I’ve seen no one.” “Well, don’t. Not even the men here. Your papa knows what he’s about, but you leave it lay. The less you know the better, and the fewer questions you ask the fewer other folks are apt to ask.” “So that’s it.” Her voice fell. “He’s an outlaw, isn’t he?” “Well-was “I’ve suspected it for a long tine, but somehow he never seemed the type.” “No, Dru, he surely doesn’t. That’s just it, he never did. Your ma, well, I think she knows but she’d not mention it, and she’d not admit it, even to herself.

  “He’ll be along soon, and when he does you get him alone if you’re of a mind to, and ask him, hisself. But not where anybody can hear you.” “Uncle Voyle? I don’t believe he’ll come tonight. I think there has been trouble. Call it intuition, whatever you wish. I have a feeling.” Her uncle shifted his feet. “Now, don’t you be gettin” scared,” he said. “There’s nothing-was “Yes, there is.” She paused. “Uncle Voyle, when we were coming up from Flagstaff, we were followed.” “Followed?” He was startled.

  “By a man who came out of a draw from the east.

  He kept back out of sight most of the time, like he did not wish to be seen, but he was following us. Just before we came into Red Wall he disappeared.” Voyle Ragan was worried. The fact that Ben Curry owned the V-Bar was a well-kept secret, and Voyle knew Ben had prevented any raiding of ranches close to the hideout in Toadstool Canyon. His argument had been simple. Leave the nearby ranches alone and they would be friendly in time of need. Yet Voyle had never trusted Curry’s leadership. Sooner or later some of the outlaws would break loose and go to raiding on their own. Who would be scouting the place? The law?

  There was none within miles, and no breath of suspicion invited their interest. Outlaws? What would be more likely, with cattle already gathered and ready for moving?

  “Don’t scare your sister or your mother with this, Dru. You can use your rifle, so keep it handy.

  I’ll have a talk with the boys.” He paused. “Just where did you see that rider?” He listened to her description, recognizing the area at once. “Tomorrow I’ll have a look,” he told her.

  “You be careful,” she said. Then she changed the subject. “Uncle Voyle? Did you ever hear of a cowboy named Mike Bastian?” Voyle Ragan was glad of the darkness. “Can’t say I have,” he said cautiously. “What about him?” “We met him on the way up here. In fact, it was he who helped us get a rig to bring us in after we left the stage. his “Most any western man would have helped you.” “I know, but it was he who helped, and-there was something about him-was “I bet I know,” Voyle said, amused. “He was probably young and good looking.” She laughed. “He was that, too, but it was the way he moved. Like a big cat. But like somebody else, too. I can’t think who he reminded me of, but somebody I know very well.” “Mike Bastian? I’ll remember the name.

  He tell you what he did?” “No. No, I don’t believe he did. I thought he might be a cowboy, or even a hunter. He was wearing buckskins. You know, like the Indians do.” She paused again, then trying to keep her tone casual she said, “He asked if he could come calling.” Voyle Ragan chuckled. “And I’ll bet you said yes.” It was her turn to laugh. “Of course. Could I be less than hospitable? After all, this is the west!” After she had gone inside Voyle Ragan walked to the bunkhouse. Two of the hands were already asleep or pretending to be. The other had one boot off and one on. “You,” Voyle said to him, “put that other boot back on. You’re taking the first watch.” “Watch? For wh
at?” “Somebody followed that buckboard when it brought the womenfolks. I don’t like it.” One of the other men, Garfield, sat up. “Been meanin’ to tell you, Voyle. I come on some hoss tracks up on the rim a few days back. Looked like somebody had been scoutin’ us.” “All right, you boys all know your business. Make like it’s Injun times again, only these Injuns will be white men and outlaws, more than likely. “We’re bunchin’ cows for a drive.

  In a few days we’ll have a dozen more hands on the place. I’d guess they know that, so if anything happens it will be before the other hands get here.

  “Don’t any of you get more than two, three miles from the place. Watch your back trails, and if anything happens you hightail it back here to stand by the womenfolks. his “Hell, I never knowed any outlaw to bother women!” Garfield protested. “I know, but we’re away out in the hills. Mighty few folks even know we’re here, an’ there’s outlaws an’ outlaws. his Garfield pulled on his other boot and straightened up, hitching his suspenders over his shoulders. Then he slung on his gunbelt.

  “Take your Winchester, too, you may need it.” Garfield gave him a bleak look. One of the hands started to snore, and Voyle indicated him.

  “Wake him up at midnight. He can stay on watch until three, and then Pete can take over until daybreak.” Voyle Ragan went outside and stopped, listening. It was quiet, very quiet. He walked up to the house and to his room. After he had hung his gunbelt to the headboard of his bed, he placed his Winchester across the washstand, close by.

  It had been a long time since he had been in a shooting fight and he wasn’t sure he was up to it.

  Morning was cool and clear, yet Mike Bastian could feel disaster in the air. Dressing hurriedly, he headed for the boardinghouse. Only a few men were eating, and there was no talk among them.

  They glanced up when he entered, but only one nodded briefly. Mike was finishing his coffee when Kerb Perrin entered.

  Instantly, Mike was on guard. Perrin walked with an arrogance that was unusual with him. He glanced at Mike Bastian, then seated himself and began to eat.

  Roundy came in, then Doe Sawyer. That meant that Ben Curry was alone in the stone house. A moment later Ducrow entered, followed by Kiefer, then by Rocky Clatt, Monson, and Panell.

  His cup halfway to his mouth Mike remembered suddenly that these were the men Perrin planned to use in the raid on the Ragan ranch. That could mean the raid was to happen. He looked up to see Roundy push back from the table, his coffee unfinished. The old woodsman hurried outside and disappeared.

  Mike put down his own cup and stood up.

  Instantly, he was motionless. The hard prod of a gun was in his back and a voice was saying, “Don’t move!” The voice was that of Fernandez. Perrin was leaning back in his chair, smiling.

  “Sorry to surprise you, Bastian,” Perrin said, “but with Lenaker on the way here we had to move fast. By the time he arrives I’ll be in the saddle.

  Some of the boys wanted to kill you but I figure you’d be a bargaining point with the old man.

  “He might be a hard kernel to dig out of that stone shell of his, but with you for an argument I think we can make him listen.” “You’re mistaken,” Mike said quietly.

  “He doesn’t care what happens to me. He can afford to be rid of me and recruit somebody else.

  He won’t let you get sway with it.” “I shall, though. You see, Rigger Molina left this morning with ten of his boys to knock over the gold train.” “That was to be my job,” Mike said.

  “I swapped with him. He could have the gold train if he left me the bank job. I must admit”-Perrin smiled”…t I neglected to tell him about the twelve armed guards, and the number who had shotguns. In fact, I told him only three guards would be along. I believe that will take care of him for me.” Perrin turned abruptly. “Take his gun and tie his hands behind his back, then shove him into the street. I want the old man to see him.” “What about him?” Kiefer pointed a gun at Doe.

  “Leave him alone. We may need a doctor, and he knows where his bread is buttered.” Mike Bastian was coldly, bitterly angry with himself. He should have been more careful His attention had been on Perrin, and Fernandez had slipped up behind him. He was shoved into the street. The morning sun was warming things up and he was pushed out in its full glare, facing up the street toward the stone house.

  He felt a fierce triumph. No matter what happened to him the old man would be tough to move out of that house. The sun was full in his face as it would be in the faces of any attackers, and the old man would be up there, ready, with a high-powered rifle.

  From the doors and windows he could command the whole settlement.

  Perrin had moved out behind a wall of logs and sandbags hastily thrown up in the street. “Come on down, Curry!” he shouted. “Come down with your hands up or we’ll kill your soul” There was no reply, no evidence they had been heard. “I’m not his son,” Bastian said.

  “We’re not even kin. He raised me to do a job, and he can get along without me. He doesn’t give a tinker’s damn about me.” “He hasn’t heard you,” Clatt said.

  “Let’s just rush the place.” “You rush it,” Kiefer said. “I’ll just set back an’ watch!” Despite his helplessness, Mike felt a glow of satisfaction. Ben Curry was a wily fighter. He knew that once he responded, their threat would have force. It was useless to kill Bastian unless Curry could see it, useless to waste him when they did not know Ben was even listening. Perrin had been positive Curry would come out rather than sacrifice Mike, and now they were not even sure their message was reaching him. Nor, Mike knew, were they sure Curry would give himself up to save him.

  At first, it had seemed logical. Now he knew Perrin was no longer sure. Nor were those who followed him.

  “Come on out!” Perrin shouted. “We’ll give you an’ Bastian each a horse and a mile’s start.

  Otherwise you both diet We’ve got dynamite!” “Perrin,” Mike said, “you’ve played the fool. Curry doesn’t care whether I live or die. He won’t come out, and there’s no way to get him out. Don’t you think the old man has planned for this? When did you ever know him not to plan for everything?” Mike was talking as much for the effect on Perrin’s men as for Perrin himself. If he could make them doubt his leadership, they might, out of fear of Ben Curry, turn on Perrin.

  Perrin ignored him. Some of the men stirred restlessly, and one or two looked around as if wondering if someone was creeping up on them. Ben Curry was a, shrewd fighter. Suppose he had planned for this? What would he have done?

  “All he has to do, Kerb,” Mike said, “is wait for Dave Lenaker to show. Then he can make a deal with Dave, and where will you be? Out in the cold with these men who were crazy enough to listen to you)” “Shut up!” Perrin’s tone was angry. “Hell come out, all right. He’s just stallin’!” “Let’s open fire on the place)” Ducrow was impatient. “Or rush it, like Clatt suggested)” “Hell)” Kiefer was disgusted. “Why bother?

  Let’s take all we can get away with an’ leave) There’s the cattle, at least two hundred head of the best ridin’ stock in the country, and what all. Rigger’s gone. Lenaker ain’t here yet.

  We’ve got a clear field.” “Take pennies when there’s millions up in that stone house?” Kerb’s veins swelled with anger.

  “There’s the loot of years up in that house) A strong room with gold in it, stacks of money) With all that to be had you’d run off with a few head of cows?” Kiefer was silent but unconvinced.

  “There is no strong room,” Mike told them.

  “I sleep in one room, Doc Sawyer in another, and there’s one for the old man. The only thing he’s got stored up there is ammunition. He’s got enough ammunition to fight a war, and he’s got the range of every place in town. Any time he’s good an’ ready he can start talon’ you out, one at a time.” Standing in the bright sunlight of the dusty street, Mike looked toward the stone house. All the love and loyalty he felt for the old man up there came back with a rush. Whatever
he was, good or bad, he owed Ben Curry. Perhaps Curry had reared him for a life of crime, but to Ben Curry it had not been a bad life. He lived like a feudal lord and had no respect for any law he did not make himself. Wrong though he might be he had taken the orphan boy Mike Bastian and given him a start. He could never, Mike now realized, have become an outlaw. It was not in him to steal, rob, and kill. That did not mean he could not be loyal now to the man who had reared him and given him a home when he had none.

  He was fiercely proud of that old man up there alone. Like a cornered grizzly, he would fight to the death. He, Mike Bastian, might die here in the street, but he hoped only that Ben Curry would stay in his stone shell and defeat them all.

  Kerb Perrin was stumped. He had planned quickly when he heard Lenaker was on his way to Toadstool Canyon. When Lenaker arrived he would have men with him, and the fight for control could turn into an ugly three or four-way battle.

  With Molina out of the way he had been sure he would take over from Curry and be ready for Dave Lenaker when he arrived. He would be waiting in ambush for Lenaker and his men. They would never live to enter the canyon. Now, suddenly, both his planning and his timing had gone awry. The idea that Ben Curry would not even reply had not occurred to him.

  That he might not surrender, Perrin had foreseen, and he had a sniper posted to pick him off if he so much as showed himself. “If you boys want to make a strike”-Mike spoke casually-“there’s that bank in eastern Colorado. According to all we hear it is ripe and waiting to be taken.” Nobody said anything but he knew they would be thinking. He doubted if any of them really wanted to face Ben Curry. He might be old, but how old was he? And how tough?

  There was simply nothing he could do. At any moment Perrin might decide to kill him where he stood. Out in the open as he was, hands tied behind him, there was nothing he could do but think.

  What had become of Roundy? The old trapper had risen suddenly and left the table, and Roundy had left his coffee unfinished, an almost unheard-of move for Roundy. Could he be in league with Perrin?