Somebody poured coffee into his cu p and he muttered a thanks without lookin g up. His fingers were beginning to ge t warm. It beat all how this country coul d be hot in the daytime and could freeze u p at night.
It was time he started hunting himself a place to last out the winter. He didn't hav e to feel in his jeans to know there was jus t two dollars there. Two lone silver dollars , and whatever he'd get out of this jo b he'd have to rustle a job on one of thes e new cow outfits.
Twenty-two years ... it was too lon g and nothing ahead of him but a stiffening of muscles, growing tired a littl e sooner, finding it harder to keep warm.
He'd driven spikes on the railroad , handled a cross-cut saw in a tie camp , helped to sink a shaft on a contract job , ' and helped to build a couple of mountai n roads in Colorado. Then he'd driven a team over the Santa Fe, put in four year s in the army in the War Between the State s and got to be a sergeant. He had bee n wounded twice, escaped from Andersonville, and had fought Indians in Dakot a and Wyoming. He'd gone up the trail fro m Texas three times, and had punched cow s in Texas, the Arizona Territory, Nebraska , and Wyoming. It was a hard life, a bitter, lonely life after a fellow got beyon d the kid stage.
When you were a youngster everythin g seemed easy, and life was forever. He'd spent a lot of time dreaming about girls , usually about one girl whose face kep t changing, but who was always mighty i n love with him, and he ready to die for he r . . . only he never met her, somehow.
He'd never cared for the women on th e Line, although he'd had his dealings wit h them. There'd been a girl he knew in a Missouri town where he drove some cattl e . . . only she married a home guard there , and already had a baby boy when he cam e back up the trail. That had been just a s well, because she wasn't his cup of tea . . . h e'd tried to talk himself into it. And no w he was thirty-five, with nothing but hi s chaps and his saddle, and womenfolk s didn't cotton to a man with nothing wh o wasn't going anywhere.
These thoughts went through his min d as he ate his beans and some almight y tough meat, and sopped his corn bread i n the gravy and settled back to drinkin g coffee. He was a coffee drinker, and h e liked it black and bitter.
The trouble with him, he was thinking , was that the kind of a woman he fancie d was hard to come by, and he wasn't likel y to settle for less. He did not want a big , bustling, brassy woman; he wante d something dainty and feminine he coul d carry flowers to without her thinking he'd gone off his rocker. The womenfolks h e met, at least the single ones, they wer e hunting a man with a wide stretch of land , with cows to his name and a ranch hous e with more than two rooms. Well, he coul d build the ranch house, if it came to that.
He'd always been a fair hand with tools.
What you goin' to do when you pay off , Conn ? Kris Mahler was asking . Yo u goin' to get drunk ?
Ain't likely. I'm going to rustle me a job, someplace I can put my feet under th e table for the rest of the winter .
You goin' south ?
No. He made the decision as h e shaped the words . I'm going to stay righ t here. In this here country somewhere .
You got friends here ? Johnny asked.
I got no friends anywhere. Onl y whiskey friends, and that kind don't sta y by you. Seems like I been driftin' eve r since I can remember .
You seen a lot of country, they tel l me .
Me? I've punched cows from th e Musselshell in Montana to the Rio Fuert e in Sonara, and all I got to show for it i s saddle sores and savvy, and a thumb los t on the Brazos when I was tryin' for a n extra turn around the horn and a fifteenhundred-poun d steer hit the end of th e string. Took my thumb off, and me thirt y miles from the ranch and twenty-two fro m town. I stubbed it against my shirt to hol d down the bleeding and heated a brandin' i ronI cauterized it right there with a runnin' iron.
Then I rode on the twenty-two mile s to an Army-post town to let the doc look i t over. He looks it over, and then he says , You lost a thumb, boy . All of which I could have told him. Then he gave me a stiff drink of rye, had one himself, an d cleaned her up a mite, stuck a bandag e on it, and charged me four bits for th e job .
Conn got up. I'm for sleep. Where ca n I bed down ?
Any place you can find to suit you, a s long as it's on the floor .
Conn unrolled his two blankets an d ground sheet. Then he straightened up.
Woman over east of here saw Inju n tracks a few days back .
I ain't seen any , the station agen t said . I figure she's imaginin' things .
Conn laid out his bed before he replied , and then he straightened up and slippe d off his pants . No, if she says she sa w tracks, she saw 'em all right. That's a pretty steady woman yonder .
Long after the light was out Conn lay o n his back, his hands clasped behind hi s head, staring up into the darkness, jus t thinking. There was water in the Mogollons , and a man might be able to make i t up there, with a few head of stock.
At breakfast Johnny McGivern looke d at him curiously . What you goin' to d o about Kiowa Staples ?
Do? What's there to do? Ever'wher e you go, Buster, there's a Kiowa Staples , ever' town an' ever' cow outfit. If a ma n lets himself be bothered by such as the m he ain't goin' far. I've seen them com e and go. If he minds his own affairs, I'l l mind mine. If he starts anything wit h me I'll just cloud up and rain all ove r him .
Conagher took his pay at the Plaza an d recovered his own horse from the stagelin e corral. He threw his beat-up saddle o n the dun and rode down the street. He dre w up at a saloon, tied his horse, and went in.
Mahler was there, and he greete d Conagher . Have one on me. They'v e hired me to wrangle stock for 'em .
Luck! Conagher said, and took hi s drink. He tossed it down, giving the fe w men in the room a cool glance . I'll bu y one, and then I'm riding .
Mahler leaned closer . Staples is i n town .
The hell with him .
Conagher rode to the store, only a fe w steps away, and bought himself a ne w rope, some coffee, a side of bacon, flour , dried fruit, and some odds and ends. Mad e up in a sack, it would ride easy behind hi s saddle.
Outside he threw it into position behin d his saddle and was about to hang the coi l of rope over the horn when he heard a ste p behind him . All right, Conagher. Thi s time it won't be fists .
It was Staples' voice, and Conn turne d on one heel, swinging the tightly coile d rope in a sweeping blow that caught th e gunman across the face. It was a bruta l blow; the coiled rope was like iron and i t caught Staples across the mouth and nose , knocking him staggering into the hitchin g rail.
Coolly, matter-of-factly, and withou t hurry, Conagher swung the coil again , smashing him across the mouth as Staple s clawed for his gun.
The gunman never had a chance. He had expected a gun battle or a n argument anything but this. Conaghe r stood wide-legged in front of him and , backing the gunman against the rail, h e proceeded to beat him unmercifully wit h the swinging coil of rope.
No matter how Staples tried to turn, th e rope was there to meet him. His nose wa s broken, his lips smashed to pulp, hi s cheeks and ears bloody, and when h e finally got his gun out a sweeping blo w with the coiled rope struck it from hi s hand into the dust.
At no time did Conagher seem hurried.
He whipped Staples coldly, almost casually , as though it were of no importance.
The crowd that gathered watched silentl y and in awe.
When Kiowa went to his knees , Conagher struck him one more swingin g blow that knocked him into the dust, an d then he said , You better ride out of here , Staples. An' leave that gun alone. Yo u ain't fit to handle one. And don't you cros s my trail again. I don't like bein' braced b y no tinhorn .
Picking up the gun, he shucked th e cartridges from it and dropped them int o his pocket, and dropped the gun into th e water trough. Then he mounted up an d rode out of town.
Kiowa Staples sat very still, sure of onl y one thingthat if he moved Conaghe r would come back. He sat there breathin g
in deep, shuddering gasps, the bloo d falling in slow drops from his nose an d mouth.
Slowly the crowd filtered away, an d when finally the beaten gunman staggere d to his feet he fell back against the hitchin g rail and stood clutching it, his hea d hanging.
A trouble maker leaned over . Kiowa , you want to borrow my gun ?
Staples turned his head and stared at th e man blankly, then he straightened u p and staggered away. He wanted only a horse. He wanted only to ride away, out o f here.
WHEN Jacob Teale had bee n gone for two months, Evie ha d her first doubts. Travel wa s hard, and he might have had to go furthe r to find cattle he could buy, but he woul d surely have sent word. He would hav e written.
Jacob had never been a heedless man.
He was not thoughtful about her needs , but he was a practical man who di d whatever needed to be done. Somehow , had he been able, he would surely hav e sent word.
The supplies brought by the stag e company had lasted well, and Evie ha d ordered again. She had even managed t o save two dollars which she carefully pu t away.
It was Laban who worried her. He wa s working too hard, caring for the horses , getting them out to meet the stages , picketing them on grass to make the littl e hay they had last, and cutting wood for th e house. She had tried to help, but h e resented it, wanting to carry on b y himself.
She saw no more of Kiowa Staples.
Charlie McCloud had given her a brie f account of what had happened . Neve r saw anything like it , he said . Staple s came a-hunting trouble and Conaghe r gave it to him. It was as bad a whipping a s a man ever got. Have you ever seen what a club forty-five feet of rope will make whe n it's in a tight coil? I can tell you one thing.
Staples may take a shot at Conagher fro m ambush sometime, but he sure won't fac e him again.
Kiowa never expected anything lik e that. He expected Conn to try to dra w against him, but that swinging coil of rop e just knocked him groggy. He'd been hi t four or five times before he even had a chance to do anything, and Conaghe r never let him get set. I figure that's on e would-be gunman who is cured .
It was hard to believe it of the quiet , rather gentle man she recalled. When sh e said as much, McCloud shrugged . Mrs.
Teale, I figure this Conagher's got a lo t behind him. He ain't come to this of a sudden. He's a man who's had years of i t to put the steel in him. He's seen a-plent y and he just ain't about to be bothered b y any tinhorn who comes along the pike .
And then he repeated what someon e else had said . He's the kind you just don't push, Mrs. Teale. Reminds me of Bill y Brooks over to Dodge. Billy was a gunusin g marshal and a good one. In his firs t two or three months on the job he sho t thirteen men ... I don't mean he kille d them all, but he was engaged in gunpla y with them. Then he crossed horns with a tough old buffalo hunter named Kir k Jordan, and Kirk made Billy take water.
He run Billy clean out of town.
Any gunman who wants to buil d himself a reputation had best steer clear o f men like Kirk Jordan or Conn Conagher , and a few others I could name. They jus t don't put up with foolishness .
The arrival of the stage was the bi g moment of the day, and when it was gon e there was a time of clearing up and takin g stock. The stage brought news, and ther e was talk of politics, gun-fighters, Indians , or range conditions.
When evening came Evie stood at th e door and looked far across the grass , scenting the wind from the distant range s with its smell of hot grass and the fainte r smell of cedar from the ridges beyond.
She never tired of looking out across th e plain, nor of watching the tumbleweed s roll past when the wind blew strong , rolling along like brown, fat cart wheel s across the open country. Sometimes sh e could count fifty or sixty at once, rollin g away, stopping when the wind died, the n rolling on again as the breeze rose.
Where did they go? Was there a fenc e out there somewhere where they coul d hang up and rest? Was there a wall o f brush? A forest? A mountain range? Or did they just roll on and on forever, clea r around the world, maybe?
She could watch the wide plain from th e window near which she cooked an d washed the dishes; she could see the everchangin g light upon it, the cloud shadows , and sometimes the suggestion of movemen t out there beyond the range of he r sight.
How far was it across that plain? She di d not know, and she never asked, for she di d not want it reduced to miles. To her i t went on forever ... it was like a vast sea.
I wish we had more to read , Laba n said one night . I need schoolin'.
Yes, we all need more to read . Sh e rested her hands from sewing . I wil l speak to Mr. McCloud. He may be able t o find some newspapers or magazines .
She took up the sewing again, althoug h her fingers were tired, and her eyes ached.
Until then, Laban, you can read th e land .
The land?
Look upon the land, Labanthere ar e stories everywhere. Study the sky and th e trees, the tracks of animals and the way th e birds fly. You can learn things no boo k will ever teach you .
I saw the track of a snake yesterday , Ruthie said . It was near the spring .
You be careful , Laban warned.
There's rattlers around .
When they stopped talking they coul d hear the coyotes. And then suddenly ther e was a rushing and plunging from th e corral.
Indians! Laban was up, running fo r the shotgun.
Evie had put down her sewing and go t to her feet. She went to the door and too k up the still lighted lantern standing there.
Abruptly, she swung the door wide an d lifted the lantern.
The ranch yard was crowded wit h horses, and among them, striking at th e bars of the corral gate, was a magnificen t wild stallion.
He swung toward the light as it fel l across the horses, and he blew shrilly, i n challenge as well as in astonishment. He was not beautiful, but stocky and strong , with an ugly head and teeth that flashed a s he rolled his eyes toward the light. Hi s mane was tangled and wild, and he swun g from the corral and faced the light , bobbing his head and pawing the har d earth with fierce, challenging strokes.
Then he swung suddenly and, nipping a t the nearest horse, drove his herd from th e yard.
For a long time she stood there , listening to the receding pound of thei r hoofs, and then she went to the corral.
The horses in the corral were wild an d frightened, drawn by the wildness of th e mustang stallion, but shuddering wit h fear, too. She talked to them calmly , replacing the one bar that had bee n knocked from the gate. She had know n there were wild horses out there on th e plains, but these were the first she ha d seen. For a long time she remembered tha t stallion, and the wild look in his eyes as h e stared at her.
The cabin door, when she closed an d barred it, was a comforting thing.
The days grew colder. Evie spent much o f her time out with the children, gatherin g fuel from the hillsides. Ancient cedars ha d fallen, leaving their gray, gnarled, an d twisted limbs on the broken rocks of th e steep slope. They dragged them down t o the cabin, picking up twigs, branches . . . a ll that could be found.
Sometimes Laban or Ruthie woul d saddle Nathan, their appaloosa gelding , and ride out to rope and drag home tre e trunks or heavy limbs from farther away , building a slowly growing pile of fue l against the coming cold.
It was on a frosty morning that Charli e McCloud turned the stage into the yar d and swung down to open the door for th e passengers. There were four that morning, two ladies from the Eastand the y were ladies , well gotten up for the tim e and the place, and two men who looke d tough and capable. Both wore busines s suits, wide hats and boots, and the taller o f the two wore a United States marshal's badge.
Charlie reached into the boot and too k out an armful of newspapers and magazines , and a couple of books . Som e of them are beat-up, Mrs. Teale , he said , but there's some readin' fo r you .
Inside the house, Evie quickly put foo d on the table, and then asked the women ,
Would you prefer tea? I have some .
Would you, please ? said the olde r one . I mean, if it isn't asking too much.
The coffee . . . it's so strong?
They like it strong out here. They sa y if you can't float a horseshoe on it th e coffee is too weak .
When she had tea on the table she wen t to the cupboard and got out a plate o f cookies.
McCloud stared at them . Mrs. Teale , you been holdin' out on us. Those are th e first cookies I've seen you make .
I didn't know you liked them. I ofte n make doughnuts, too .
Better not let it get around , Charli e said , or you'll have half the cowboys i n the Territory hangin' around . . . ridin' fo r miles to get here .
You will have to forgive us , Evie sai d to the ladies . The place is rathe r primitive. Next year we hope to add to th e cabin so we will have more room .
I love your view , the younger woma n said. She was no more than nineteen, wit h large eyes and long lashes . Mrs. Teale, I am Lucy Baker, and this is my aunt , Celestine Scott. We are from Philadelphia , and we're going to Prescott. We're lookin g for my brother .
He lives in Prescott ?
No, that was the last address we ha d for him. That . . . that was two year s ago .
Two years? The way people travel i n this country he might be anywhere. Wha t is his name ?
Scott Baker . . . you'd know him easily.
He's tall, and has dark, tight curls. There's a small scar on his cheek bone,and he has a beautiful smile. He's always making fu n . . . they used to say he was wild, but tha t was just his way .
If he comes by, I'll speak to him , Evi e said . You leave me your address .
Suddenly she noticed the tall man wit h the marshal's badge. His expression wa s odd, and he was stirring his coffee ver y busily. The other man was looking dow n at his plate.
The marshal looked up then and said , Miss, if you want to stop around th e Plazathat's the next town down th e lineyou might run into him. I couldn't say for sure, but there's a man aroun d there called Curlyhe seems to fit th e description .
Evie's head came up sharply and her ey e caught that of the marshal, who slowl y shook his head.
Conagher (1969) Page 3
