“Beat?” he said. “Boy, I ain’t even started.”
He aimed a blow at Wilder’s head and missed by a foot. Wilder hit him in the belly. He sagged. Wilder hit him in the face and he slumped forward. As he went down, he instinctively clutched at the Englishman’s legs. Wilder tried to kick himself free, but Jody clung on like a burr, thrusting forward with his wounded shoulder. He nearly passed out with the pain, but the thought of grounding his adversary was uppermost in his mind. Wilder went down like a felled tree. He struggled wildly to free himself from Jody’s grip, but that tenacious Storm climbed up his body, bearing down on the threshing legs with the whole weight of his body. Ramming his elbows into the belly beneath him and then heaving himself forward to smash his head into the other’s face.
Wilder went limp for a moment and Jody thought he had him, but the Englishman came to life under him, heaved him off and rolled over onto his hands and knees.
This was too much for Jody. With an animal cry he lunged forward in a clumsy drive, drove his shoulder into Wilder and put him down again. Jody rose to one knee, gripped Wilder by the hair, wrenched his head back and smashed his fist into his face.
Wilder rolled over, groaned once and lay still.
Jody fought to focus on him. There was blood in his eyes and mouth.
“Jumpin’ hell,” Harrison exclaimed. “You whupped him good, boy.”
Jody tried to say something, but he couldn’t speak. He gulped air hungrily into his lungs. He felt as if every bone in his body was smashed and every muscle torn.
After a long time, he climbed to his feet.
“Time we wasn’t here,” Harrison said, “git on your horse and leave us make distance.”
Jody staggered over to Blue and leaned against him. The gelding turned his head and muzzled him. How he climbed into the saddle, he would never know.
He looked down at Wilder.
“What about him?” he asked.
“What about him?” Harrison said. He walked off to find his horse. Jody rode past the Englishman.
Chapter Eleven
They lay up in the hills for three days. According to Harrison, they were days well spent. In that time, Rolf would be lulled into believing that Jody had left the country. It also gave Jody time to mend. And he had never needed mending more in his life.
He mooned around camp and mostly thought of Honoria. Harrison said the sight of him fair made him retch. How he could look at that little wench when there was a fine woman like Manuela Salazar around was beyond him. Jody didn’t feel up to fighting him about it. He just said if Harrison felt like that about the Mexican, why didn’t he by God do something about it. Harrison’s reply to that was how by God did Jody know he didn’t aim to? If he had any plans about how they were going to get their hands on Jody’s bull, regain his horses and win the hand of the fair Honoria, he didn’t reveal those either.
A short while later, Harrison produced a comb and a small hand mirror from his war-bag and began to carefully comb his hair and beard. Jody watched, fascinated. Harrison viewed himself carefully first from one side and then the other, experimenting with various facial expressions — the stern master of man, the daring hunter, he scowled and smirked.
“Goin’ someplace?” Jody demanded.
“Now that you mention it,” Harrison said, “yes.”
“Can a man ask where?”
“Courtin’,” Harrison declared. “Cryin’ shame you ain’t up to the activity yourself.”
Jody sat up and took notice.
“Who ain’t up to it?”
“Wa-al. Seein’ as you’re kinda stove-up from all the arrer shootin’ an’ whuppin’s you bin subjected to ...”
“If an old goat like you can go a-courtin’, I reckon —”
“You go a-courtin’ down ole Rolf’s place an’ you’re purely liable to git your fool butt shot off.”
Jody was on his feet.
“Don’t you bank on that,” he cried. He stopped. “Say, you don’t aim to spark Manuela, do you?”
Harrison said: “Goin’ to take her right from under li’l ole Rolf’s nose, boy. Mighty strange thing that — the other feller’s berries allus taste the sweetest.”
“Rolf’s goin’ to be fit to be tied.”
Harrison grinned.
“Maybe he’s goin’ to be tied at that.”
Jody said: “There ain’t goin’ to be too much likelihood of me gettin’ my bull if n you rustle Manuela.”
Grandly, Harrison said: “Your bull’s all tooken care of, son.”
Jody gazed at him skeptically.
“An’ my hosses too, I suppose.”
“Right again,” said Harrison, superbly confident.
“How’ve you planned it?”
“Ain’t planned a thing. Boy, I done lifted so many goddam hosses in my evil life, I jest do it instinctive. Hey, did I ever tell you about the time I stole the Crow chief’s favorite wife?”
“No, you never did. But I reckon I’m goin’ to hear.”
Harrison smiled benignly.
“Save it for when the four of us’ns is ridin’ home to your place.”
“What four?”
“You stupid or somethin’? Why, you, me, Manuela an’ that there Honoria you set sech store by.”
An hour later, Harrison was ready for the trail.
He appeared from the rocks in the splendor of a mountain man of old and even Jody, who was still in a somewhat sour frame of mind, had to admit that he made a magnificent sight.
His greasy doeskin shirt was exchanged for a similar article in mint condition, richly decorated with bright quills and fringes. The old blue hickory shirt was replaced by a linen shirt of startling white. His leathern hose were of finely-worked white buckskin fringed with vermilion. Around his waist was a scarlet sash into which was thrust a vast Dragoon pistol of ancient lineage. His powder-horn was mounted with silver and the same metal flashed in quiet splendor from various parts of his dress. His moccasins, no doubt worked lovingly by one of his deserted wives through a long winter, were of exquisite workmanship. He looked an impressive and dramatic anachronism.
“What do you think?” he asked, preening himself, turning this way and that for inspection.
“Man,” said Jody, breathless with admiration, “you’ll bowl her over.”
“That’s my estimate, too,” Harrison agreed.
Jody had prepared himself by washing in a nearby creek, combing his hair with Harrison’s comb, shaving in cold water and wiping his boots on a handful of grass. He felt himself to be a pale shade beside his companion.
They sought their horses, saddled and rode.
During the ride, Harrison was in fine fettle, his spirits soaring. He sang to himself, mostly songs of Crow origin, but occasionally resorting to New England hymn tunes and every now and then chuckling at some secret thought that delighted him.
As for Jody, he traveled in some apprehension, suspecting that his companion was taking him into waters that would prove too deep for him. Just the same, his fears were not enough to prevent him from experiencing some excitement at the thought of seeing Honoria and as she drew nearer to him he found that his heart-beat gave evidence of running pretty wild. He found himself dreaming in the saddle, thinking of the lovely mouth that had been offered to him, that glorious body that had been his for the taking if it had not been for that damned narrow-minded father of hers.
Dark overtook them on the trail and they approached the house by moonlight.
Harrison halted.
“You’re on your own, boy,” he said. “I go in open, you Injun in.”
“What the hell?” said Jody, reining in beside him.
“Everythin’s arranged, neat an’ tidy. The girl’s in her room. Or so her old man thinks. But she ain’t. She’s down by the crick, among the willows by the rocks. Do I have to spell it out to you?”
Eagerness welled in Jody.
“No, sir,” he said.
“Take your time,” Harrison told him. “I
f all hell breaks loose, why you git up on thet li’l ole hoss an’ you ride. If you’re so minded, have the li’l lady with you. I’ll meet you five miles south. Follow the crick. There’s a motte of trees to the right of the water at the south end of the valley. They line up with a saddle in the hills. Head out that way. Go down into the next valley an’ if I’m still in this here vale of tears I’ll be there or on my way. Hear?”
“What do you aim to do?” Jody demanded.
“Why, son,” said Harrison, “I’m real set on leavin’ ole Rolf a mighty lonesome man. That’s a fact. See you.”
Without another word, he rode off into the night.
Jody stayed where he was for a moment, thinking. Harrison’s tone had been pretty cocky, but at the same time, it left Jody uneasy. He suspected that the squawman was going to take considerable risk and Jody didn’t much like another man taking a risk, for him. And, if Harrison was at risk, that meant that he was at risk himself. Just what had the old fool cooked up? He must have fixed it for Honoria to meet him in the willows. What else had he fixed?
He turned his horse east and went ahead slowly, keeping his ears and eyes open for any Rolf hand that might be about, finally coming to the creek. He found the water not too deep and crossed over, thinking it might not be a bad idea to approach the willows from the other side of the water, just in case this turned out to be a trap. He felt a mite treacherous himself not trusting Harrison, but he reckoned it was his neck and the only one he had. He had been suckered enough in his young life and he didn’t aim to be suckered again if he could help it.
On the far side of the water, he walked Blue gently south.
Five minutes later, he saw the pale surface of the rocks in the moonlight and beyond them the dark patch of the willows, moving slowly in the light breeze that ruffled the water. There was no sound but the distant barking of a dog. Maybe the animal was challenging Harrison’s approach to the house.
He halted close to some brush and stared across the creek. Now it didn’t seem such a good idea to have the water between himself and the willows. He’d be wide open as he crossed the water.
Blue shook his head and the bridle chain rattled. The sound seemed to fill the whole night.
Jody dismounted and approached the water’s edge.
“Honoria,” he called softly.
Something moved among the willows. A pale form shoved itself on the other side of the creek.
“Jody,” she called.
There was a gladness in her voice that made everything he had been through worthwhile. He started to wade across. In a moment, she was in his arms. He could smell the fragrance of her hair, feel her firm young body against his. Her arms came around his neck.
“Oh, Jody,” she said, “I’ve ached for this minute.”
Chapter Twelve
The dogs were the first to hear Harrison as he approached the house. This strange man was pleased to find himself greeted by three slavering hounds that barked and yelped a savage welcome. He beat them off with jovial curses, using toe and heel with some dexterity. They realized they had met their master and retreated in a howling circle to eye him balefully and the master of the house appeared on the lower gallery.
He eyed his visitor coldly, but just the same came forward to greet him, ordering the dogs off. The creatures obeyed him with the alacrity with which all living creatures seemed to obey him. If he wondered at Harrison’s quick return, he didn’t remark on it. Harrison was at his smoothest. Tying his horse, he turned to Rolf with an open smile, showing the face of a guileless and honest man.
“Mr. Rolf,” he said, “I reckon you’re surprised to see me back so soon. I rode a-ways and I got to thinkin’. My thoughts kinda went this a-way — me bein’ on the brink of entering the stock growin’ business, as you might say, an’ you bein’ the breeder of the finest stock in the country, why it only seemed reasonable that you should be the man I turned to. I seen them fine upstandin’ bulls of yourn and there was success starin’ me in the face. I reckoned if n I had me one or even two of them handsome creatures, why I’d of gotten me more’n half-ways to success.”
Rolf’s coldness did not leave him, but a new light came into his eyes. Business was business, even if he did not relish the reappearance of this man whom he considered to be a primitive.
“Always ready to do business,” he declared softly and he started calculating his areas of profit, surmising that if a man were thinking of purchasing two bulls, he might be persuaded to up his needs to three or even four. With the dollar sign bright in his brain, he ushered the buckskin-clad figure in through the portals of his house, sitting him down like an honored visitor and calling for servants to attend. A silent-footed Mexican appeared, wine was poured and the two men drank, toasting each other politely.
Harrison looked around and was slightly disappointed not to see the beautiful Manuela. He relished the situation with enormous delight. He reckoned he wasn’t getting to be any younger, but the close proximity of danger and a fine woman who might shortly be his, if he played his cards right, made him feel young again. He decided that he had gotten himself into a real deep rut living as he had been with the Indians and it was time he made a change. A man was young while he could still contemplate change in relation to himself.
He praised the wine, accepted a second glass and thought privately that it didn’t match up with a good slug of whiskey. But he wasn’t paying, so he decided that he might as well enjoy it.
They discussed cattle, they argued the merits and demerits of the various breeds, summed up the gains to be made by crossing the Texas longhorn with Eastern breeds, each man assessing the other’s knowledge, each man jockeying for a dickering position.
“It strikes me,” Rolf said, “that you can hardly choose good stock at night, sir. We had best leave this over to the morning.”
“Ah,” cried Harrison, “you don’t allow for my unusualness, Rolf. I am a man who acts upon his whim. There was I riding’ through the hills, not a cow on my mind, as you might say. Then it struck me — get into the cattle business, Prescott. Fill some lordly acres with some fine stock, play landed gentry as did your ancestors in the Old Country. Without another thought, I turned my horse in this direction. I shall buy tonight, if the price is right and get on my way.”
If it struck Rolf that the rough mountain speech of Prescott Harrison was not so apparent during this speech, he gave no sign. He offered Harrison a cigar, Harrison fired and puffed with great aplomb and accepted more wine. He spoke on, slurring his speech a little to give his host the impression that the wine might be gaining ascendancy over his wits.
The door opened and he heard the rustle of silk.
He turned and there stood Manuela Salazar. He had never seen her more beautiful. She was dressed like a lady of her country, hair glossy and smooth as a raven’s wing, eyes bright. She stopped short at the sight of him and he stood for her with a gallantry he had never shown one of his Indian loves.
“Mr. Harrison,” she said, “I did not know —”
“I could not stay away, señorita,” he declared, hand on heart, bowing. “Once seen —” He left the sentence unfinished. She lowered her eyes.
“Mr. Harrison,” Rolf said, “came back to buy bulls.”
Harrison thought that the corners of her delicious mouth curved in a tiny smile.
“The bulls,” he said, “were purely secondary, madam. I hope you will join us at wine.
Rolf went to protest, for at that moment, he had no wish for the woman to be present, but Harrison had already found a glass and was already pouring for her. He topped up his own glass while he was about it.
Raising his glass, he said: “To the finest eyes in the West, Miss Manuela.”
Rolf bristled. Harrison ignored him.
Rolf cleared his throat and said: “We were discussing business, Manuela.”
“I apologize,” she said, “I will go.”
“No,” said Harrison. “I insist. Let the lady stay and advi
se me on my choice of animals.”
“Oh, very well,” Rolf agreed. He shouted for servants, they came running. He gave rapid orders in bad Spanish. They ran to carry them out. Rolf turned to Harrison. “They are preparing horses. We shall ride down to the corrals and you will take your pick. Four bulls, you said, sir?”
“No, sir,” said Harrison, “I did not. But we shall see.”
In a moment, they went out onto the gallery and there were riders and saddled horses ready. Harrison did some quick thinking — this was going to be difficult. He reckoned he was gambling on the turn of a single card. He wasn’t fooling when he told young Jody Storm that he might not come out of this alive. He toyed with the idea of cutting his losses and just lighting out with the bulls and calling it a day. He looked at Manuela Salazar and decided, no, he’d take everything he had come for and settle for nothing less. He owed it to himself.
Nobody was helping her mount. He hurried forward and made a hand for her, finding her extraordinarily light as he hefted her into the saddle. He had not had so delightful an experience for a great many years. She sat side-saddle and smiled her thanks. He mounted his own horse and prayed that it should prove faster than any horse here present. There was some good horse-flesh there and he doubted it. Speed would not get him out of this one. Only guile and gall would win through.
As he rode amidst the small cavalcade he had to admit to himself that he was enjoying this. His blood was running free and hot, his pulse was beating with a youthful excitement. It proved to him that he was still very much alive.
The corrals were not far. Within a few minutes he heard the sonorous bawling of the bulls. The men started to light lanterns and torches. The bright patches of light brought out the men’s faces in dramatic contrasts of light and deep shadow. Harrison found that Rolf’s eyes were on him. He knew that this fellow would take some beating. Harrison would have to pay for these bulls in cash money. But he’d be damned if he paid for the woman with anything but lead. That was a matter of honor.
A vaquero opened a gate and with several of the men Rolf rode into the corral. Harrison was left alone with Manuel and a Mexican hand. He leaned from his saddle. Her fine eyes turned to appraise him.
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