There's Always A Trail Louis L'amour *
He Sat On A Bale Of Hay Against The Wall Of The Livery Stable And Listened To Them Talk. He Was A Lean, Leather Skinned Man With bleak eyes and a stubble of beard on hi s jaw. He was a stranger in Pagosa, and showed no desire t o get acquainted.
"It's an even bet he's already dead," Hardin said, "ther e would be no reason to keep him alive once they had th e money."
"Dead or alive, it means we're finished! That was all th e money we could beg, borrow, or steal."
"Leeds was killed?" Hardin asked. He was a burly ma n with a hard red face. Now his blue eyes showed worry.
"Then he can't tell us a thing!"
That s just the trouble!" Causey said. We haven t a Clue ! Salter starts to town from our ranch with our fiftee n thousand dollars and Bill Leeds along as body-guard. Leed s is dead, two shots fired from his gun, and Salter is gone."
It's a cinch Salter didn't take our money," Hardin said , "because he would have shot Leeds down from behind.
Salter knew Leeds was good with a gun, and he'd neve r have taken a chance."
"Jake Salter isn't that sort of man," Bailey protested.
"He's a good man. Dependable."
The stranger in the dusty black hat crossed one kne e over the other. "Anybody trailin' theme' His voice had a harsh, unused sound.
Hardin glanced around, noticing him for the first time.
"There isn't any trail. Whoever done it just dropped o ff ' t he edge of the earth. We hunted for a trail. The body o f Bill Leeds was l y in' on the road to town, and that was al l there was!"
"There's always a trail, but you aren't going to get you r money back if you stand around talkin' about it. Why no t scout around' There's always some sign left."
Hunt where? Hunt asked irritably. A man s got t o have a place to start. There's no trail, I said!"
The stranger's eyes were bored but patient. Slowly, h e got to his feet. "If I'd lost that money, I'd go after it." He turned on his heel and started along the street toward th e Star Saloon.
"Wait a minute! Hold on there!" Cass Bailey said. "Hey!
Come back here!"
The man turned and walked slowly back. The other s were looking at Bailey, surprised. "What's your name , friend?" Bailey asked.
"There's places they've said I was right handy, so jus t call me that, Handy."
"All right, Handy. You've done some talking. You said i f that was your money you'd go after it. Well, four thousan d of that money happens to be mine, and it represents ever y head of beef that was fit to sell on the CB range. As o f now, half that money is yours, if you can get it. You los t two thousand dollars in the holdup, so now we'll se e whether you're going to find a trail or not."
Handy stuck his thumbs behind his belt. You said i f you lost that money you were through, finished. Is tha t right?"
"It ain't only me," Bailey said. "We're all through if w e don't get our money back."
"AJI right, Bailey, I like the way you talk. I'll accept tha t two thousand on one consideration. If I get it back it buy s me a full partnership in your CB range."
Hardin jumped up. "Well of all the -!"
Cass Bailey stood, feet apart, hands on his hips, starin g at Handy. Obviously, the man was a rider. There wa s something about his hard assurance that Bailey liked.
"If you can get that money back, you've got yourself a deal."
"Find me a place to sleep," Handy said. "I'll be along i n a few days."
Handy turned away and walked along to the Star Saloo n and ordered a beer. He took a swallow of the beer the n put the glass back on the bar.
Too bad about Leeds," the bartender suggested. He was a lean, loose-mouthed man with straw-colored hai r and watery eyes.
"Too bad about Salter, too. Probably they'll kill him.
That will be hard on his family."
"Salter? He's got no family. At least none that anybod y knows of."
"What about his woman'"
"You know about her, huh? From all I hear, Mari a won't do any frettin'. That Maria, she's a case, Maria is.
She sure had ol' Jake danglin'. He was all worked up ove r her. Every time he saw her he, acted like he'd been kicke d in the head."
"Maria? Is she over at Cherry Hill?"
"Cherry Hill? You must be thinkin' of somebody else.
There's nobody like Maria! They tell me those Spanish ar e somethin' special. Never knew one, m'self."
Handy finished his beer and strolled outside. Cass Bai l ey was nowhere in sight, but Handy had no soone r appeared on the boardwalk than a storm descended upo n him.
It was five feet, three inches of storm, and shaped t o make disaster inviting. Ann Bailey. Her hair was red, an d there was a sprinkling of freckles across her nose, an d what were probably very lovely lips were drawn into a thin line as her boot heels clackity-clacked down the wal k toward him.
"Listen, you! If you're the one who sold my dad a bill o f goods and got him to give up half his ranch -! Why yo u no-good fish-eatin' crow-bait, I've a notion to knock you r eyes out!"
"You've already done that, ma'am. But what's the trou b le? Don't you want your money back?"
"Want it back? Of course, I want it back! But you've n o right to talk my old man into any such deal as that!
Besides, what makes you think you can get it back? Unles s you're one of the outlaws who stole it!"
"Do you live on the ranch?" he asked mildly.
"Where else would I live? In a gopher hole?"
"Ain't no tellin', ma'am, although if you did, that gophe r would feel mighty crowded. Still an' all, I can see wher e makin' my home on the CB might be right nice."
He stepped into the street and tightened the cinch o n the evil-eyed buckskin who stood at the rail lookin g unpleasant.
"Ma'am, I like my eggs over, my bacon not quite crisp , and my coffee black and strong. You just be expectin' m e now! '
Handy reined the buckskin around and loped away dow n the street, followed by some language that, while no t profane, certainly made profanity unnecessary.
"Spirit, he told the buckskin, that's what I like!" Th e buckskin laid back his ears and told himself, 'You just wai t until the next frosty morning, cowhand, and I'll show yo u spirit!'
Hondo could have doubled for Pagosa, except that th e Star Saloon was two doors further along the street and wa s called the Remuda, probably because they played so muc h stud.
The bartender was fat, round, and pink-cheeked. He was also, by looks and sound, very definitely an Irishman.
"I'm not one of the fighting Irish," he said, "I'm one of th e loving Irish, and I like the girls when they're fair, fat, an d forty."
"You wouldn't like Maria, then," Handy commented. "I h ear she's slim, dark, and twenty."
"Don't you get any ideas, cowboy. Maria's spoken for.
Her time's taken. Anyway, from a mere sideline observe r I'd guess that twenty was a shade closer to thirty. Bu t she's spoken for."
"I heard about Salter," Handy said.
The bartender's smile was tolerant, the smile of on e who knows. "That's what Salter thinks! Maria is Buc k Rodd's girl. She lets Salter hang around because he buy s her things, and that's all it amounts to.
"Believe me," the bartender took a quick glance aroun d the empty room and lowered his voice, "if she's smart sh e won't try any funny business with Buck Rodd!"
-Heard of him, said Handy, who hadn't , and tha t crowd he runs with."
"You'll be liable to hear more before the day's over, i f you stay in town. Buck rode in last night with that whol e crowd, Shorty Hazel, Wing Mathy, Gan Carrero, an d some other gent."
"That's enough for me," Handy said, fi
nishing his beer.
"I never heard of Maria. I'll stick to blondes when I'm i n Hondo."
The bartender chuckled agreement and Handy wen t outside, where he found a chair and settled down to doz e away what remained of the afternoon.
"The trouble with folks," Handy mused, "is they mak e it hard for themselves. A man leaves more than one kin d of a trail. If you can't find the tracks that shows where h e went you can nearly always back-track him to where h e came from. Then it usually comes down to one of the m 'searches la fammy' deals like that tenderfoot was explainin' d own at El Paso. If you're huntin' a man, he said, look fo r the woman. It makes sense, it surely does."
Three horsemen fast-walked their horses to the hitchrai l near his own, and swung down. The slim, dark one woul d probably he Carrero, the one with the short leg would b e Wing Mathy, and the one with the hard face and sand colored hair would be Shorty Hazel.
Handy built himself a cigarette, innocently unaware o f the three. The two guns he wore took their attention, bu t he did not look around when one of them muttered some t hing to the others.
Wing Mathy stepped up on the boardwalk. "Hey? Ain't you from the Live Oak country?"
"I might be," Handy said, "but I could be from Powde r River or Ruby Hills. So might you, but I ain't askin .
Mathy smiled. I ain't askin, friend. It s just that yo u looked familiar."
The three went inside and as the door swung to, Hand y heard Wing say, "I've seen that gent somewhere. I know I h ave!"
Handy looked down at the cigarette. He rarely smoked , and didn't really want this one. It had been something t o keep his fingers busy. He dropped it to the boardwalk , careful it did not go through to the debris below, an d rubbed it out with his boot-toe.
He was on the trail of something, but just what he, was not sure. Right about now Buck Rodd was probably seein g Maria. At least, he might be.
Most people, when they went to chasing outlaws, spen t too much time wearing horses out. He found it muc h more simple to follow the trails from a chair, even thoug h he'd spent the largest part of his life in a saddle.
What had become of Jake Salter? That was the nex t proble m, and just where was the money?
Jake Salter was out of his skull over Maria, and Mari a was Buck Rodd's girl. Jake Salter, trying to impress he r with how big a man he was, might have mentioned carry i ng all that money. She would surely have told Buc k Rodd. There is very little, after all, that is strange abou t human behavior. All the trails were blazed long, long ago.
Handy led his horse to the livery stable. Livery stables , he had discovered, were like barber shops. There wa s always a lot of talk around, and if a man listened he coul d pick up a good deal. He led the buckskin inside, bought i t a night's keep for two bits, and began giving the surprise d horse a rubdown.
The buckskin was a litt l e uncertain as to the prope r reaction to such a procedure. Upon those past occasion s when he had been rubbed down it was after a particularl y grueling time on the trail, but on this day he had don e practically nothing. He was gratified by the rubdown, bu t felt it would only be in character to bite, kick, or act u p somehow. However, even when preoccupied, as he wa s now, Handy rarely gave him opportunities. The buckski n relaxed, but the idea stayed with him.
For two days Handy had idled about the livery stable i n Pagosa before coming here, so he knew that Salter owne d a little spread over on the Seco. The brand was the Laz y S. A few minutes now sufficed to show there was no Laz y S horse in the stable, but he waited, and he listened.
As night settled down he saddled the buckskin agai n and strolled outside. The night was softly dark, the star s hanging so low it seemed a tall man might knock the m down with a stick. Handy sat down on a bench against th e stable wall. A lazy-fingered player plucked a haphazar d tune from a piano in the saloon up the street. Occasionall y the player sang a few bars, a plaintive cow country son g born some centuries ago on the plains of Andalusia, i n far-off Spain. Nothing stirred. Once there was a burst o f laughter from the saloon, and occasionally he could hea r the click of poker chips.'
Down the street a door opened, letting a shaft of lamp l ight into the darkness. A big ryan swaggered out. Th e door closed, and Handy could hear the jingle of spurs an d boot heels on the boardwalk, and then, in the light fro m over the swinging doors of the Reiauda, Handy saw a bi g man enter. He wore a black hat and a black shirt, and hi s handle-bar mustache was sweeping and black . Buck Rodd.
Handy arose and rubbed a finger along the stubble o f beard. It was no way in which to call on a lady. Still... h e walked down the opposite side of the street from th e saloon and turned in at the gate from which Rodd ha d emerged.
Hesitating to step up on the porch, he walked around t o the side, past the rose bushes that grew near the window.
He could see the woman inside; no longer a girl, but al l woman, Maria looked like someone who knew what sh e wanted and how to get it.
Handy Indian-toed it to the back door and tried th e canvas covered outer door. It opened under his hand; I t was warmer inside, and the air was close. There was a smell of food, and over it, of coffee.
He moved toward the lighted door and stopped' as Mari a framed herself there. Her breath caught, but she made n o other sound. "Who are you?" she demanded. Maria, Hand y saw, was not easily flustered.
"A driftin' cowhand who smelled fresh coffee and though t we might talk a little."
"We've nothing to talk about. Now rattle your hocks ou t of here before my man comes back."
"You mean Buck... or Salter?"
The beautiful eyes became less beautiful, but very col d and wary. "You'd better leave while you're able. If Buc k should come back --"
Maria, he said, you re a beautiful woman. You re als o a very smart one. ~ the time they've split that money s o was the way she would be. He had no intention of usin g any kind of a gun unless it was forced on him. The mone y meant a lot to Bailey. to say nothing of the others, and h e meant to get it hack if he could. As for a piece of Bailey's ranch, that was a dream and no more than a dream. Whe n Bailey discovered he was Sonora Hack he would have n o further use for him. He certainly would not want him as a partner. Yet one thing he had established: Maria eithe r had the money or knew where it was.
He looked down at her. "Maria, you don't think I'd trust you, do you? You an' me, we ride the same trail. We both want money, and a lot of it. You don't trust me, and I d on't trust you, but if' we work together we both stand t o win."
"What do you want me to do?"
"Get the money now. Split in two halves. I'll take mine , and then you call Buck Bodd and teI l him there's a man i n your house. When he comes I'll be waiting."
He could almost feel her thoughts. How could she loser s If she stayed with them her part of the split would be a thousand dollars or less. Go his way and she could kee p half, and she could find a way to get his half also.
If the worst happened, and Hack was killed, there wa s every chance Buck or some of his men would also b e killed. Either way, her share would be larger.
Suddenly a new thought came to him. "What abou t Salter? Does he cut into this'"
She shrugged. "He was a fool! He agreed to run off wit h the money if somebody took care of Leeds. Wing Math y and Carrero did that. When Salter got to where he was t o meet me, Buck was waiting for him. I t was a smooth job."
He stared at her from the shadows. Smooth, all right , and deadly, as ruthless and deadly as she herself.
"Good! Let's split the money now."
An instant she hesitated, then crossing the room sh e slipped back a portion of the base panel and got out a sack.
"There it is, all of it."
A hinge creaked behind them and a cool young voic e said, "I'll take that!"
Ann Bailey!
Sonora felt a shock of cold go through him. This was th e end. Nobody would never believe he intended to get th e money and return it.
She stepped into the room, her gun he
ld steady, "Oh , you're contemptible! You promise to get our money back , and then you're here with this, this awful woman' Yo u were planning to kill all those men! I heard it! I hear d every word!"
Maria's eyes flashed at him. "I'll live to see you die , Sonora Hack!"
"Hacky" Ann's eyes flashed at him. "You?"
"That's right, and, although you'll never believe it, I i ntended to get that money back to you. I had first to fin d out where it was."
He could almost feel Maria's hatred. He saw Ann's lef t hand grasp the sack, saw her start backing toward th e door. At that instant there was a heavy step on the fron t porch and a loud voice boomed out, "Maria? Where ar e you'? The boys are comin' over!"
Ann stepped out the back door as the voice sounded , and in the startled instant of surprise at the voice, Mari a grabbed for the shotgun.
Sonora hit the back door running ; the shotgun bellowed , but he was outside and to the left, wheeling around th e house with but one thought, to get out of range of th e shotgun. Ann had vanished as if she were a ghost. He vaulted the front fence just as three men stepped down off ' t he boardwalk in front of the saloon. His horse was a bloc k away in the livery stable, saddled, 'fortunately.
Once he was on the buckskin... but Ann? What o f Ann?
Behind him Rodd was shouting, and he saw the thre e outlaws start to run down the street toward him.' He dov e for an opening between two houses, heard a gun bar k behind him, charged around the end of the house, and ra n full-tilt into a woodpile and sprawled over it to the ground!
Scrambling to his feet, his hands stinging with pai n from the gravel, beyond the woodpile, he grabbed for hi s guns. He still had them.
A running man rounded a corner and he snapped a sho t from the hip. It was a near miss, and the man yelped wit h surprise and fired in return. Sonora ducked into a crouc h and ran, running from one building to another.
At least he was keeping them occupied, and he hope d Ann was getting away with the money. Where had sh e gotten to so quickly? And how had she gotten there in th e first place? She must have followed him! Then she ha d never trusted him at all; but then, why should she?
His breath coming in racking gasps , he made the las t building and rounded the corner. Behind him there wa s running and yelling. He flattened against the building a t the corner. A man was standing in front of the liver y stable, staring up the street to see what was happening.
There's Always a Trail (1984) Page 1
