the Shadow Riders (1982)

by L'amour, Louis

  The girl turned restlessly in her sleep, and his hand went to the pistol, but she relaxed into deeper sleep.

  In the deep stillness of the night a great flock of the whooping cranes swept in to a landing on the lake, settling like a white cloud upon the dark water. For a long moment the lake and the forest were silent, then slowly the night sounds renewed their strength. In the last hour before dawn frail streamers of mist floated in from the sea, huddling among the trees like so many ghosts called to picnic upon the damp grass. The man with the pistol returned it to his holster and shaking out his boots, drew them carefully on. Then he tip-toed to his horse and returned with a coffee-pot. He dipped water from the stream where a spring bubbled beneath the surface, and gathering dry wood from underneath old logs or breaking tiny twigs from the trunks of trees, he put together a small fire.

  A thin tendril of fire lifted its questioning smoke, and the man selected a larger bit of dry wood from near a lady-slipper. The man looked at it. "You are the tricky one," he whispered. "You are the deadly one."

  He walked back to his fire and added wood to boil the water. "Beautiful," he whispered, "and deadly." He glanced at the sleeping girl. "She is the same, I think."

  When the water was boiling he added coffee and went back to sit by his tree.

  Kate Connery opened her eyes to a gray sky above a canopy of leaves. Streamers of light touched the wraiths of fog, and they shuddered like virgins approached by lechers and disappeared. The sunlight remained. The girl lay still, not quite awake, not quite free from dreaming, only slightly aware of the coffee smell.

  She sat up abruptly, and the man smiled and doffed his hat. "Buenos dias, senorita. I am Fraconi."

  "I remember you."

  Her rifle was still beside her. To place the situation in proper perspective, she drew her pistol from under the leaves and placed it in her lap.

  He smiled. "Coffee will soon be ready. The bacon, I regret, must be grilled over the fire. It will lose something, yet when one is hungry ...?"

  "I will enjoy it."

  He got to his feet in one swift, graceful movement. "There ..." he pointed, "is a sheltered place where this stream enters the lake. If you wish to bathe or wash your face and hands, it is yours." He smiled again. "I regret the amenities are less than I would wish."

  "You work for Captain Connery?"

  He smiled again, a very different smile. "We are associated. Occasionally he has things for me to do. I do them. Otherwise, I am indolent. I live upon his bounty, on his ranch. I have fine horses to ride, enough to eat, occasionally a bottle of wine. Such a life is very simple, senorita. I prefer it so."

  "He is near?"

  "He is on the ranch, I believe. With Captain Connery one is never sure. He shares his decisions with no one. He might be there, he might be here. He sent me to find the Travens. Instead I have found you, which is better."

  Kate went into the trees and looked back. Fraconi was at the fire, his back to her. She bathed a little, splashing water on her face and shoulders. Then she put on her blouse and returned to the fire.

  "Eat," he suggested. "There may be much riding."

  She accepted the cup he offered and took bacon from the pronged stick hanging above the fire. She had not realized she was so hungry.

  "You are an interesting woman," he said.

  She looked at him coolly, not sure what was in his mind. "Each in his own way may be interesting," she said.

  "You would kill a man, I think."

  "If it were necessary. One does what one must. One survives," she added.

  "Back there," he waved a hand at the woods, "I found a dead man. His throat was badly torn. I think he choked on his own blood."

  She felt a little sick, and said nothing. "One dead man," he added, "but two hats. One floating on the water."

  "Everybody," she said, "should learn to swim."

  He cut strips from a slab of bacon and hung more on the prongs.

  "I am no longer hungry," she said.

  "Eat!" he commanded. "We have much riding, and we do not know when we will eat again. Drink much coffee ... it will help."

  He walked away from the fire to listen. When he came back he said, "They are moving again, gathering on the beach, I think."

  "But you cannot see them?"

  "Of course not. They are far away. Nevertheless, I think that is what they do, and I think the Travens look for you.

  "Last night I tell myself this. I look for the Travens. They look for you. So if I wait with you, they will find you, and I shall find them. So, it is simple, is it not?

  "Besides," he added, smiling, "it saves much riding, much looking, much trouble. I am, as I have said, indolent."

  She looked at him over her coffee-cup. "I do not think you are indolent. I also think you are a gentleman."

  For the first time he looked slightly embarrassed. "I am complimented."

  He sat silent for a few minutes, and then he said, "It is good of you to say so, but in all honesty I must confess I am something of a rascal, and Captain Connery knows it well."

  "And yet he has you working for him?"

  He looked up, some pride in his words. "He trusts me, senorita."

  "You are not Spanish?"

  "Italian, but I grew to manhood in Spain and in the Canary Islands."

  He saddled the horses and led them to water. Kate waited, listening for some sound from the forest or the beach. It was such a relatively small area, and yet with so many enemies about neither those who looked for her nor she herself dared attract attention, for fear it would be the attention of the wrong people.

  She had for what seemed a long time lived only from hour to hour, even minute to minute, so that she longed for home - her own kitchen, her own yard, her own people. And Dal was out there, perhaps wounded and dying.

  Fraconi lingered. "I would take you to Captain Connery despite the fact that he sent me for the Travens, but we should go after dark when we can cross the open plains without being seen. Those salt grass meadows offer no cover except here and there a low spot."

  "I want to find the Travens. I believe we should look because if we do not they will continue to look for me, risking their lives all the while." They rode out, toward the beach. The wagons remained where they were, but there were neither horses nor oxen near them, and the beach itself was white and empty. Drawn up on the beach were three boats, but there was not a man in sight, not any movement.

  Puzzled, Kate stood in her stirrups ... nothing. Fraconi looked equally puzzled. "Three boats? Each, I think, will carry twenty men, although I doubt they carried so many. Yet how many? And where are they?"

  There was a stilling behind them. Fraconi turned like a cat ... too late.

  There were a dozen men there, seamen by the look of them. All had guns. The man in command was a surly-looking ruffian. "Lift no hand if you wish to live," he said, "and get down from those horses!"

  Kate slapped her heels into her mount and as the horse leaped forward she dropped to the for side of him, Indian-fashion. The horse leaped into a run and was plunging for the sand-hills when a shot rang out, then another.

  She felt the horse shudder as he took the bullet, but as he started to fall, she sprang free. She had not grown up on a ranch for nothing.

  She sprang free, tumbled upon the sand, and got up and started to run.

  Then they were all around her, and two men grabbed her arms, jerking her roughly around.

  "Do her no harm," the officer said, "that was most expressly mentioned. She's worth a thousand in gold if she's unharmed."

  He glanced at her appraisingly. "I'd give two thousand, myself!"

  He glanced around suddenly. "Damn it all! Where's the other one?"

  Fraconi was gone.

  He swore bitterly. "Did none of you see him?"

  "It was her we were sent to get, sir," a seaman said. "When she tried to get away, we tried to stop her."

  The officer shrugged. "Very well, forget him. He was of no import
ance, anyway. Take her now. She goes aboard ship."

  Then he lifted his hand. "Hold up! We must let Captain Hammond know, and Colonel Ashford as well. Jamie," he said to the boy with them, "run off for the Captain now. Do you be telling them we've captured our prize. We will wait here."

  The boy ran off, and there was silence. The officer glanced at the men. "You may smoke," he said, "but be watchful. She's a tricky lass."

  "And a niece to Captain Martin Connery," she said.

  There was an absolute silence, then the officer said, "What was that you said, ma'am?"

  "I said I was a niece to Captain Connery, whose ship the Golden Vanity lies in Mission Bay, if you will but look."

  She'd heard it said that seamen knew of each other as landsmen often do and that reputations travel far. It had been said that seamen, wherever they might be, knew of Martin Connery and his ship.

  "Mr. Masters, sir?" He was a tall young man with blond hair. "We didn't reckon on this, sir."

  "And neither did I," Masters said irritably. He glanced at Kate again. "Ma'am? You are niece to Captain Connery, of the Vanity?"

  "I am, and was with him only two days ago or so. The man who escaped works for him. By now he will be well on his way, and he can be," Kate lied, "at his home within the hour."

  If a fast horse would not get her away a fast tongue might. "The Vanity," she said, "has eight guns and a Long Tom ..." she had that from a story she'd read, "and he can be at sea in a matter of minutes."

  Masters swore bitterly. "What's your name?" he demanded.

  "Kate ... Katherine Connery." Masters swore. The men were uneasy, glancing around, then toward the sea.

  He turned to her. "Did Colonel Ashford know who you were?"

  "He knew, but he is not a man of the sea. So he knew yet he did not know."

  Masters paced, swearing softly, bitterly. "Will that boy only hurry?"

  Chapter Seventeen.

  Sometimes a half-truth is better than none. When one deals with the enemy one uses what tactics one may, and she was not being actually dishonest. She simply said, "Captain Connery said anyone who bothered me he would personally see skinned alive."

  "He'd do it, too!" the blond man exclaimed.

  "He knows you are here?"

  "I rode back with Colonel Ashford to see the other girls freed; then they took me prisoner."

  "What of the others?"

  "They are gone, taken off to Refugio, and by now the people there know what is going on. There should be a posse leaving Refugio by now," she added.

  Masters swore again, and the blond man said, "Mr. Masters, sir? Running guns is one thing, even slaving, but who wants to challenge Martin Connery? Who, sir?"

  "Be still!"

  The morning wore on, and there was still no word from the forest. Masters sat on the sand, paced, swore, and looked off to sea.

  Masters was wishing he was back aboard ship and standing out to sea. Whenever he got off a ship's deck he got himself in trouble. At sea he knew he was, as a seaman, one of the best. Ashore he always seemed to stumble into trouble. But no man in his right mind went crossways of Martin Connery, and there were stories by the dozen of men who for one reason or another tried to get the better of him. Not one of them was now afloat.

  The blond man stood up. "They're coming, sir! The captain's coming back!"

  "Thank God!" Masters said. At least, the burden of decision would no longer be his.

  Hammond was a thick-set, heavy man who walked over the sand without effort. He glanced at his men, then at Kate.

  "Captain, sir? This young woman is Kate Connery."

  Hammond was irritated. "I am not interested in her name, Masters! As far as I am concerned she is a piece of merchandise. Very pretty merchandise, I might add."

  "Sir, you did not hear me. She is Kate Connery, Captain Martin Connery's niece."

  There was a moment of deadly silence - then Hammond turned on Ashford. "What kind of a trap is this, Colonel? I agreed on guns for women. Then it turns out you have only one woman, and now she turns out to be Captain Connery's niece!"

  "I've seen Connery. There's nothing about him to be afraid of!"

  "You've seen Connery? Like Hell you have! The man's a devil! Follow you to Hell an' gone if you cross him! Did you ever hear of the Dead Man's Chest, Colonel?"

  "Something in an old sea ballad, isn't it?"

  "It's that, and more. It's a rocky bit of island without water, without trees, without anything, and it sits right under a tropic sun!

  "There were some men who believed themselves tough enough to challenge him, so he put them ashore on the Dead Man's Chest and left them there. Told them they'd soon discover just how tough they were, and he'd come back for them, sooner or later.

  "He went back, all right, but there wasn't much left. What thirst and the sun hadn't done they had done to each other!

  "There was another time a man tried to doublecross him and have him murdered into the bargain. It failed, an' Connery followed him to sea, put a couple of holes in his ship's hull, then took the crew off as she was sinking. When their captain, who'd tried to have Connery murdered, started to leave with them, he sent him back.

  " 'A captain is supposed to go down with his ship. Isn't that the tradition? Let's see you live up to it!' Then he sailed away."

  Hammond turned away. "I've had my sail for nothing, Colonel Ashford, but never try to make any gun deals with me, or any kind of deals. Before you start stealing girls, you'd best find out who they are!"

  The wind from off the sea had a taste of salt. Ashford stood, staring at the ship that was to have brought him arms. Over there on the shore, men were getting into boats. Others, who had been waiting in the sand-hills, followed.

  Frank turned and walked to the wagon. Several others, guessing his purpose, followed. Ashford turned sharply. "Here, you! None of that!"

  Frank stopped, spat, and said, "Go to the devil!" And walked on.

  Kate stood very still. There was a horse over there, bridle reins trailing. She started toward it, walking slowly.

  "Kate! Where are you going?"

  "I'm going home, Colonel."

  "You're leaving me, too?"

  "I was never with you, Colonel. It looks to me like you'd better find yourself another world. You will get no credit in this one."

  She walked on.

  "Kate! Stop!"

  Several of the men, scattered out en route to the wagon and its whiskey, stopped. Kate kept walking. Only a few steps more. Just a few steps ...

  "Kate, damn it, I said stop!"

  She had almost reached the horse. Just another step or two, and once in the saddle, she would ...

  "I'll make her stop, Colonel." It was Frank. Suddenly he lifted his rifle and shot the horse dead.

  Frank lowered his rifle, then reached in the back of the supply wagon and took out a bottle. He tossed it to the man nearest him, then another to the next man. He took a bottle for himself, and then they started walking toward Kate.

  She turned to face them. There was no place to run to, just nowhere to go.

  "Dal," she said aloud. "Dal, where are you?"

  Without turning her eyes from the advancing men, still some fifty yards off, she said to Ashford, "Toss me your pistol!"

  "What?"

  "Toss it to me or use it! If you won't stop them, I will!"

  He hesitated, then suddenly drawing a pistol he tossed it to her. She caught it deftly.

  The men stopped, irresolute. She stood quietly, facing them, waiting.

  "Go ahead," one of them said. "She won't shoot nobody!"

  "Where's Hayden?" she asked them suddenly. "What became of Cutler?"

  "Come on, she won't shoot! Let's go get her!"

  "You go," one of them backed off, pulling the cork from his bottle. "I helped bury Hayden!"

  He took a drink and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. "Go ahead, Frank! You started this. Let's see you handle her."

  Frank started forwa
rd, then stopped. He stopped and slowly began to back away. One by one the others did likewise.

  Kate held the gun steady, never taking her eyes from them. "It's all right now, Kate." The voice was Dal's. "Just mount up an' we'll get out of here."

  For a moment her relief was so great she thought she would faint right away. Her knees were suddenly weak, and slowly she lowered the pistol. Then without looking at Dal or Mac, she walked to her horse, gathered the reins, grasped the pommel, and putting a toe in the stirrup, hesitated.

  They had found her. She was free. The other girls were free. It was over ... almost over. She swung into the saddle.

  Only then did she trust herself to look at them. They were there, Dal with his pistol and Mac a little to one side with that Spencer rifle he carried.

  She walked her horse over to Ashford and handed him the pistol. "Thanks, for that much." She reined her horse around. "If I were you I'd get out of here while the getting is good. When they have a few more drinks they are going to get mad, and you got them into this."

  "I'll manage."

  She walked her horse to where Dal waited, and he spoke softly. "This ain't over yet. Just walk your horse off an' be ready to make a run for it. We'll hold 'em until you get out of range."

  "I want to be with you."

  "You are with me. Now get goin'. I been to a lot of trouble to find you again, and I don't figure to get you shot."

  Frank tilted the bottle. He was watching the Travens. To Hell with this! Ashford might let her get away, but he wasn't going to. Just wait, he told himself, I'll take some of those high an' mighty airs away from her. Before I'm through she'll set up an' beg!

  Nevertheless, he waited, taking another drink. "This ain't over," he said to the man, Bolt, who stood near him, "not by a long shot!"

  "Be careful! Those boys can shoot!"

  "How many horses we got?"

  "Ten, twelve maybe. What about the Colonel?"

  "He's washed out. There's nothing to him."

  Ashford stood alone on the white sand. He was empty. He looked off toward the bay, seeing the ship lying there. They were getting sail on her, heaving up the anchor. Soon they would be standing out to sea ... it was over, over.