Conagher (1969)

by L'amour, Louis

  He came around the horses . Watc h yourself with those two in there. Tha t whole Ladder Five is a salty crowd an d they don't care whose stock they brand .

  Who are they?

  Hi Jackson and Pete Casuse. The y drifted in here from the Neuces country .

  Likely I'll never see them again. I'm driftin'.

  But when he looked back from a distance of about half a mile, he saw th e two men standing in front of the store , staring after him.

  Three days later, after swinging in a long circuit. Conn Conagher found a job.

  Seaborn Tay was forty years old whe n he decided to make his stand. He rode int o the country alone, scouted a piece o f country he liked, and although everybod y warned him it was Apache country and h e wouldn't last a month, he moved in, buil t an outfit, and by the time Conn Conaghe r rode up to the bunk house rustlin g a job, Tay had been running cattle o n that range four years and he still had hi s hair.

  Conagher swung down from his hors e and looked across the yard at the man wh o stood on the steps.

  You ridin' the grub line, or huntin' a job ?

  A job if I can get it. A meal if I can't .

  Have you got sand ? Tay cam e walking down toward him . I'll hav e nobody riding for me who is going to ru n for town the first time he sees a pon y track .

  Conagher took off the sheepskin coat.

  Nice coat, ain't it? Warm, too. Well, I just swapped for it. I swapped two rifles taken off two dead Apaches. The third on e got off, but he was packin' lead. Does tha t answer your question ?

  Supper will be on the table in abou t half an hour. You got time to wash u p and stow your gear. On this job I furnis h the horses and the ammunition.

  I'll have no fighting among my crew.

  Any time you can't stand up to the wor k I'll give you two days' grub and a hea d start .

  Conagher stripped his rigging from th e dun and turned it into the corral, then h e packed his blanket roll and Winchester t o the bunk house.

  It was like every other bunk house.

  Maybe it was a little stronger and tighte r than most southern bunk houses, mor e like they had in Montana or Colorado. He chose an empty bunk near the stove, an d threw his gear into it.

  There were three hands on the job. He made a fourth. There were bunks fo r twelve, but only those near the stove wer e occupied. He checked the fire, added a couple of sticks, and unrolled his bed. He took his spare six-shooter and tucked i t under his blanket, then sat down an d cleaned his rifle.

  By the time he had finished he heard th e triangle ringing for supper, and when h e went out one of the hands was just ridin g in. It was Kris Mahler.

  Look what the cat dragged in , Mahle r said . Did the Old Man hire you ?

  Somebody has to do the work , Conagher said . Now I can see why h e was so anxious to get a good man .

  Mahler stepped down from the saddl e and commenced building a smoke . Anythin g strike you peculiar about thi s setup ?

  What's peculiar ?

  Hirin' men this time of year. Usuall y the old hands stay on for the winte r months. Why should Tay be hirin' so lat e in the season? What happened to hi s regular hands ?

  Don't get a burr under your saddle.

  You'll find out soon enough. Where's th e others ?

  Riding the line. It's a long two-da y trip. One goes north and one south, an d they swing around and pass each other.

  There are two line cabins, and if you tim e it right you can sleep inside. Mainly it's t o keep stock from drifting, checking rang e and water holes, and keeping your eye s open for rustlers .

  They walked up to the ranch hous e together.

  The grub's good , Mahler said . Yo u never ate such grub. The Old Man foun d him a chef who got throwed out of som e ho-tel back east .

  There were just four of them at th e table, and the food was good. Conn ate a second helping, then filled his cup agai n and leaned back.

  He talked little, listened a lot. Mahle r had always been a good talker, an easygoin g man, and a good hand. He had a wa y of talking on any subject, to anyone. Con n envied him, while he listened.

  There was one old hand, a man name d Leggett who had come from southeas t Texas to this place, riding as segundo t o Tay, who was his own foreman. The othe r hand, as Conn might have guessed, wa s Johnny McGivern. Like himself, Mahle r and McGivern had ridden in hunting a jo b and they had been hired.

  Suddenly Tay turned to Conagher.

  Mahler will be telling you, anyway, s o you might as well know. Two of my hand s up and quit just before Mahler an d McGivern rode in, and another one's missing .

  Missing?

  Martinez. He came from Texas wit h me, too. He rode out, taking the sout h swing. Mahler saw him over east of her e the next day. They talked, smoked a cigarette, and rode on. Nobody has see n Martinez since .

  A lot of things can happen , Conaghe r said . This here's a rough country .

  Kris Mahler tilted back in his chair an d sipped coffee.

  The thought came to Conagher suddenly , and he voiced it without thinking.

  Do you share any range with Ladde r Five ?

  Mahler looked up sharply, then glance d at Tay. The rancher pushed back slightl y from the table and studied Conn carefully.

  What do you know about Ladder Five ?

  Well, I saw a couple of their hand s over to Horse Springs. They had prett y good outfits, the both of them. I'd say the y were gents who could use a brand just lik e they've got .

  We've had no trouble with them , Ta y said . We've no reason to expect trouble .

  Conagher shrugged . Well, I never sa w them before and never expect to again. I just came here hunting a riding job .

  Later, when they were outside, Mahle r commented , I wouldn't say any mor e about the Five, if I was you. No nee d letting the Old Man get the wind up .

  None of my affair , Conagher said . I wanted a place to sit out the winter, and a s long as nobody bothers me, I'll bothe r nobody .

  And then Mahler said the wrong thing.

  A man out there on a horse . . . he's al l alone. He's a settin' duck for any man wit h a rifle. A man would be foolish to risk tha t now, wouldn't he ?

  Conn Conagher, who never liked bein g pushed, felt his old cantankerous moo d coming on. He'd be damned if he wa s going to ride scared for anybody . . . an y time. But he said nothing. This, h e decided, was a time to listen.

  The following day Leggett rode in.

  He was a tall man with a long face and a dry-as-dust manner, but Conn pegge d him right away as an honest man, as wel l as no fool.

  Conn listened to him discuss condition s on the range, where he had seen cattle , where the water holes were, what steer s were trouble makers.

  Conn saddled up and tightened th e cinch. He got out his Winchester and sli d it into the scabbard . You won't nee d that , Mahler said . We ain't seen a n Injun around in some time .

  I feel better with it , Conn replied.

  Seaborn Tay walked out on the porc h and called to him . First time out , h e said , you just get acquainted with th e country . Briefly he explained the layou t of the range claimed by the ST, and the n he added, in a somewhat lower voice , I got nothing but respect for an hones t cowhand .

  Conn Conagher stepped into the saddl e and gathered his reins . Mr. Tay , h e said , I've covered a lot of country in m y time, but when I take a man's money I rid e for the brand .

  CONAGHER covered four miles i n his first hour. The range lay belo w six thousand feet at this point, wit h much open country. There were cottonwood s along the stream beds, wit h scrub oak, pinon, juniper, and occasiona l mountain mahogany on the slopes.

  The range condition was fair t o middling. He saw a few head of steers an d several cows, all wearing the ST brand.

  Where they were too close to what Ta y considered his line, Conagher turned the m back, then rode on.

  The stock was in good shape for col d weather, and there was sufficient range fo r the number
of cattle he saw. On this firs t trip he was only going to get a rough ide a of the country and the problems, bu t already he had seen a few areas wher e larkspur and horse bush were plentiful. . . a good idea would be to move all stock ou t of this area, come spring. Cattle wouldn't eat most poisonous plants if there wa s other forage. The trouble was that man y dangerous plants were the first things t o turn green in the spring. He took out hi s tally book and made a note of the area an d its probable limits.

  Just before noon he turned up a slope , found a trickle of water coming dow n through a grove of alders, and steppe d down from the saddle. He loosened th e cinch, let his horse have a little water, the n picketed it on a pocket of grass and settle d down to chewing on a piece of jerky.

  From where he sat he could see over a far stretch of country. Getting his fiel d glasses from his saddlebag, he began t o study the country. He spotted severa l bunches of cattle, a few scattered ones, an d a bunch of deer. He was getting up t o return the field glasses to the saddlebag , but took one longer look. Further out , beyond the limits of ST range, he sa w another bunch of cattle.

  He studied them for a while, curious a s to why they were bunched so tightly . . . a nd then he picked up a plume of dust an d saw the cattle were being drifted by tw o riders. They were too far away to mak e them out clearly.

  He tightened the cinch, swung into th e saddle, and angled down the mountainside.

  This was open range country, and th e limits that Tay placed on his range wer e purely arbitrary. Such limits were probabl y not recognized by other ranchers; i t was simply that Tay wished to keep hi s own herds within those limits. That way i t was easier to supervise and care for them , to check range conditions, and to trea t them for screw worms, and for cuts o r scrapes from horns or rocks.

  Conagher found the tracks of scattere d cattle on Tay range, and found where the y had been bunched and drifted. The track s showed the men had ridden carelessly, a s if driving the cattle by chance.

  He followed the tracks, keeping to lo w ground and what cover he could find , until, topping out on a pinon-creste d ridge, he saw the cattle not far off, stil l moving northward. The two riders wer e going on.

  Holding to the cover of the pinons , Conagher considered. The cattle belo w were likely to be ST stock, but withou t checking the brands, he would not be sure.

  They had been started north, and woul d probably, unless stopped, continue t o graze in that direction. With a little nudg e from riders, they might be thirty mile s away by the time another man came thi s way.

  With his glasses he studied the directio n taken by the two riders, but they were no t in sight now. Waiting only a few minute s longer, he rode down to the herd.

  All but one wore the ST brand. He cu t out the lone steer, then started the other s back toward their home range. He ha d almost reached the home range whe n another rider, this one on a sorrel hors e with three white stockings, come down of f the slope.

  He was a stocky, hard-faced man with a scar over one eye, high cheekbones, and a square jaw. He was riding a Ladder Fiv e horse.

  Where you takin' them steers ? h e asked.

  Back to their home range. As yo u can see, they're ST stock. Figured I'd best start 'em back where they com e from .

  The man studied the brands, the n looked at Conagher . I don't believe I know you , he said . Are you a new ride r for Tay ?

  Uh-huh. My name's Conagher. Firs t time around. Sort of gettin' acquainte d with the range .

  I'm Tile Coker. You'd better have a talk with Kris Mahler .

  We've talked before. Kris an' me rod e together for the stage company a whil e back .

  Tile Coker gave him a quick glance.

  Oh? Are you the gent who busted u p Kiowa Staples ?

  We had a difficulty .

  Heard about it . Coker swung hi s horse . You an' Kris should get bette r acquainted. Save us all some trouble .

  Maybe.

  Coker rode off, and Conagher pushe d the cattle back over the line and deep int o ST territory. Only then did he resume hi s ride.

  Twice he found bunches of ST cattl e that seemed to have strayed too far north.

  He started them south, then pushed on , but he kept off the skyline and carried hi s Winchester in his hands.

  Johnny McGivern was waiting for hi m near a clump of scrub oak, but Conaghe r saw him before he was seen by McGiver n and chose to make a sweep around som e brush up the slope from where Johnn y waited.

  McGivern saw him then and yelled, bu t Conagher took a slow, lazy turn aroun d the clump of oak, cutting for sign. Ther e was none but that left by Johnny himself , so he rode on up to the fire.

  Johnny had coffee ready, and Conaghe r swung down. This was apparently a plac e where frequent stops had been made.

  There were many tracks, but none of the m were fresh except those made by Johnny's pinto gelding.

  The stock seems to be in good shape , Conagher said . Some of it is drifting , though .

  Yeah? Johnny glanced at him . Yo u see anybody ?

  Only a puncher named Coker. Ride s for the Ladder Five .

  You talk much?

  Conagher took his cup from hi s saddlebag and filled it from the coffeepot.

  Not much.

  Johnny was looking at him, bu t Conagher paid no attention. He sipped th e coffee gratefully . Good coffee , he said.

  We leave the pot hanging to that cedar.

  Whoever gets here first, makes it .

  I'll try to see you get here before I do.

  You make better coffee .

  Ma taught me. Sometimes I made i t for her before she got home . Johnn y looked around at him . Ma worked out.

  My pa was killed in a train crash when I was six .

  She had nerve, Conagher said . I t takes nerve to bring up a boy when a woman's alone . He looked over a t Johnny . She'd be proud of you, I think.

  You shape up like quite a man .

  McGivern flushed, and to change th e subject he said , I always wished I coul d have known what pa was like. What kin d of a man he was .

  Most railroaders I've known wer e mighty good men , Conagher said . I'v e helped lay track, myself. And I've ridde n the cars a good bit, with shipments o f stock, and the like. They're good men .

  I never had a chance to know him .

  A boy should know his pahe need s somebody to look up to. A boy or a girl , they learn how to be a man or a woman b y watching their folks .

  There was a man worked at a stor e near us. Sometimes when we hadn't an y money he let us have groceries anyway . . . u ntil we could pay. I don't know if ma eve r did manage to pay him all of it .

  Some day you ought to go back and as k him. Pay him what you owe .

  Johnny stared into his cup . I'v e thought about it. You think I should ?

  Uh-huh.

  They sat silent, drinking coffee an d listening to the pleasant sound of th e horses cropping grass. After a while , Conagher got to his feet and cinche d up.

  Conn? Johnny said questioningly.

  Yeah?

  Why didn't you draw on that man? On Kiowa ?

  You mean was I afraid? No, I wasn't . . . not that I recollect. I expect all men ar e scared sometimes, but I didn't think of it.

  Kiowa wasn't really mean, he just ha d a blown-up idea of who he was . . . w hy should I kill him because he wa s making a fool of himself? Why should I risk getting killed myself, for the sam e reason?

  He had to be taught , Conn went on , and there's no other way, sometimes. I f he lives, he'll be grateful. If he doesn't, i t won't make any difference. First thing yo u want to remember, boy, is that a reputation doesn't make a man tough. Yo u got to know, not did he kill somebody, bu t who were they? How tough were they?

  Also, could he have done otherwise? A m an who kills when he can do otherwise i s crazy . . . plumb crazy .

  He might have killed you .

  Might have. Conagher stepped int o the saddle and looked down at Johnn y McGivern . Some
men take a sight o f killing, boy. Just be sure that when killin g time comes around that you're standing o n the right side .

  Johnny stared after him. Now what di d he mean by that? Did he mean anything b y it?

  In spite of himself, Johnny felt drawn t o the strange, lonely rider who was jus t disappearing down a draw. He had neve r seen a man more alone, nor a man mor e secure in himself. That was it, Johnn y surmised: Conn Conagher knew what h e believed . . . and Johnny wished he di d himself.

  Kris now . . . Kris had swagger an d style, but something about Kris mad e Johnny uneasy.

  But only since he had met Con n Conagher.

  That was the day Conn found the first o f the notes. He saw it from far off, and dre w up in the shadow of a juniper to study i t out.

  Down there on the flat there was a spec k of white, just a speck, but it had n o business to be there.

  Conagher had been less than fourtee n when he learned to distrust something ou t of place, and what he saw was not sunligh t on a stone, it was not the bottom side of a leaf; it looked like a bit of paper.

  It was not much over a hundred yard s off, so he put his glass on it.

  A piece of paper lying amongst som e tumbleweed. His glasses swept the groun d ... no tracks that he could see at thi s distance.

  Warily, he rode along, scouting the are a until he was sure there was no one around.

  Then he rode up to the tumbleweed.

  The paper was folded over several time s and it was tied to the tumbleweed.

  Curious, he untied it and opened th e paper.

  Sometimes when I am alone I feel I wil l die if I do not talk to someone, and I am alone so much.

  I love to hear the wind in the grass, or i n the cedars.

  He read it through, then read it again.

  He started to throw it aside, but then h e tucked it into his vest pocket.

  He liked the wind in the grass, himself.

  And the cedars, too, and the smell of them.

  He wondered if the writer of that note ha d ever really looked at a cedar. Gnarled , twisted by wind, rooted often enough i n rock, still it lived and grew. It took a sigh t of living and hardship to grow like that , but when they did grow they grew strong , and they lasted. Why, he'd seen cedar s that had split rocks apart, cedars that mus t have been old before Columbus landed.