Conagher swore. He had meant to hi t him, but it was evidence of his weaknes s that he had missed . You , he said t o Casuse , you get my horse and saddle up , and don't try anything foolish .
Moving slightly to keep the Mexica n under his eyes, he watched him saddle u p and carefully tighten the girth.
Conagher then moved around to pick u p the reins with his left hand. His grip on th e gun was very weak. Parnell was watchin g him.
Hell, the outlaw said , you're s o weak you can scarcely stand .
You want to see how weak? Reach fo r your gun .
No, Parnell said practically , becaus e you've got just sand enough left i n you to kill me .
Conagher turned, reached for th e pommel, but never made it. He felt hi s knees giving way under him, grabbed at a stirrup, and it slipped through his fingers.
He hit the ground on his face and la y still.
For a long moment nobody moved. Pet e Casuse stared at Conagher, then looked a t Smoke briefly . There lies a man , h e said, and then he glanced again at Parnell.
What was that town you were tellin' m e about? Was it Milestown ?
Up Montana way , Parnell said , an d I think that's a good idea .
He hesitated a moment, then threw bac k the blankets, sitting still until he was sur e Conagher was not going to move.
Fascinated but frightened. Curly Scot t was staring at the fallen man, and then h e looked at Smoke . Are you going to kil l him ?
Kill him? Smoke Parnell turne d around sharply . Kid, you don't kno w what you're sayin'. I may be an outlaw , but I never yet murdered anybody in col d blood, least of all an hombre. And there, a s my friend Casuse will agree, is an hombr e that is an hombre .
What are we going to do ?
Weme an' Petewe're ridin' back t o the outfit and we're going to pick up Kri s and Tile and we're heading for Montana.
We're ridin' north with the spring .
What about me? Scott protested.
You stay with him. When he's wel l enough to ride, take him back to Seabor n Tay. He's worth more to this country tha n that whole outfit. And while you're wit h him, kid, you watch him. If you ever get t o be half the man he is, you come back an d ride with me if you think you're still cu t out for an outlaw .
When they were gone. Curly Scot t stirred up the fire and started to drag th e unconscious man closer. Then, worried a t what he might do if he woke up, he jus t eased him onto a ground sheet, covere d him over with blankets, and sat down t o wait for daybreak.
Several times he turned to look at th e sleeping man. He was dirty and unshaven , and his clothes were worn and bloody, bu t there was something about him, even i n sleep, that spoke of what kind of a man h e was.
Conagher stirred restlessly, mutterin g something about the wind in the grass.
Tumbleweed . . . he murmured , rollin g like wheels . . . like wheels ...
The words made no sense to Scott, bu t then, when did words spoken in deliriu m ever make sense?
Chapter 14
TWO weeks after his return to th e ST, Conagher was riding, again. He A had wanted to go back to work afte r two days, but Tay would have none of it.
You lay up for a while. Get some rest.
Thing like that takes more out of a ma n than he knows .
Conagher mended a bridle, fixed th e hinges on the corral gate, sank some pos t holes for a fence around the kitche n garden, and generally kept busy.
He had lost a lot of blood and he ha d missed some meals, but such things wer e all in the day's work. He had never had i t easy, and did not expect to now. Johnn y McGivern had stayed on, and they ha d hired Curly Scott, whose sister had gon e on to California without ever seeing him.
March came to an end and April passed , and the grass was green from the sprin g rains, the prairies covered with wildflowers.
The stock was fat and lazy, an d Conagher rode wide, once even stoppin g by the Ladder Five, but the building s were deserted and still, and tumbleweed s were piled against the corral after th e spring winds.
Conagher swung the dun horse an d walked him over to look at the tumbleweeds.
Sure enough, there was somethin g grayish-white on one of them near th e bottom. Conagher pulled the tumbleweed s away until he could get at th e note.
It was an old note, and must have bee n written late in the fall. It could scarcely b e read, it was so faded.
It is very cold, and I am often alon e here. How I wish someone woul d come!
He read it and re-read it, then tucked i t away, folded in a little bundle with th e others. There was no accounting for wha t a lonely person would do; he knew that o f his own experience. He was often alone , and like all men who rode alone he ofte n talked to his horse. You got cabi n fever after a while when you live d alone, and you just had to talk, and thi s was a lonely woman somewhere away of f up north who needed to talk to somebody.
He prowled around the Ladder Five fo r a while. Nobody had been there for quite a while. In fact, they must have pulled ou t right after that time in the mountains. He had come out of it himself to find onl y young Scott with him, who had fixed hi m up some chow and they ate there togethe r until they rode back to the ST.
As he rode away he turned in the saddl e to look back. The Ladder Five was a goo d layout. Nobody owned it. Parnell and hi s outlaws had just squatted there, fixe d things up enough to get along, and staye d on.
The ranch lay in a small cove in the roc k wall of the mountain, with a few tree s behind it and a clump off to one side tha t would break the wind. The house wa s solid and there was a good supply of water.
The grass was green and the range lay ou t before it. Taken altogether, it was the sor t of place where an honest man could d o well by settling.
Several times during his ride back to th e ST headquarters, Conn took out the note s and read them over. They didn't say muc h when you came right down to it, but the y told of a lonely girl somewhere far off.
Likely she didn't see many folks, stuck ou t on the plains.
Conagher rode up to the bunk hous e and got down and began throwing hi s duflfel together.
Leggett came from the barn an d watched him without comment for a fe w minutes, and then he said , You lightin' a shuck ?
Uh-huh.
The Old Man will be some put out. He sets store by you .
He's a good man .
You better talk to him. He wants t o make you foreman. He told me so, and it's right he should. You saved his outfit fo r him .
I did my job.
You done more. You done more tha n anybody could have expected .
Conagher straightened up . Mister , when I hire on for a man, I ride for him. I ride for his outfit. If I don't like things I quit. I've got me a horse and a saddle an d there's a lot of country I ain't seen, bu t when a man hires me I figure he hires m y savvy and what all I can do .
You run those outlaws clean out of th e country .
Conagher shook his head . I'd not sa y that. I just worried them to where it wasn't what you'd call comfortable for them.
Nobody likes to laze it around more tha n an outlaw, and you keep him stirred u p and he'll usually move. Well, I sort o f stirred them up .
When his blankets were rolled and hi s gear packed he went up to the house an d asked the cook for coffee. Seaborn Ta y came in and dropped into a chair . How's the range look ?
Good. There was a good fall of sno w and most of it sank right in. No runoff t o speak of. I'd say, you'd a might y handsome year ahead . He sipped hi s coffee . Mr. Tay, I want to draw m y time .
Now see here, Conagher. You can't just up and leave a man that way. I nee d you. I was figurin' on you for foreman. I'm not as spry as I should be, and like yo u maybe guessed, I've got a bad heart. I'l l give you a hundred a month .
Nope.
Look, where are you going to find tha t much? You've been riskin' your neck fo r thirty a month and you deserve to ge t more. I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll give yo u a hun
dred a month and a ten per cen t share .
I want to ride north. I got business u p there .
Tay argued quietly, but Conaghe r merely sipped his coffee. The cook put a piece of pie before him, and he ate it.
Things work out, I may be back. Bu t I'll be back to lay claim to the Ladde r Five. I won't be workin' for you, but I'l l be your neighbor .
You got a girl somewhere? You gettin' m arried ?
I can't say. I've never been married , and don't figure I'm the sort to stan d hitched .
Well, when it came to that, he didn't know. Somehow, when girling time cam e around he was always too backward, o r else he was off riding the range where yo u couldn't find a girl. Other men no bette r off than he was had found some pretty fin e women, here and yonder . . . and som e miserable ones, too. It kind of scared a man.
He was no youngster any more, and i t was no time to start building fancies, ye t when it came to that, why not?
Anybody could dream, and it seemed t o him that girl who'd been tying those note s to tumble weeds had been doing a sight o f dreaming. So he would just ride north , camp along the way, and kind of look th e country over. When he came to a lonel y cabin he'd find that girl, all right. He would know her anywhere.
It puzzled him how she lived, but h e decided she was the daughter of som e rancher, or maybe of a dirt farmer, o r even, perish the thought, a sheepman's daughter.
He finished his coffee, pocketed th e money Tay gave him without so much a s counting it, and went outside. Ta y followed him to the door.
Damn it, man, he said , why do yo u have to go tomcattin' off across th e country? You could build yourself into a nice place here, and rightly a piece of it i s yours .
I'll be back some spring, follerin' th e wild geese , Conagher said, and swun g into the saddle. He lifted his hand t o Leggett and McGivern, alone in the bun k house now that Euston was gone, and h e rode away.
The grasslands looked greener in th e distance than they did close up. He guessed it was always that way.
IT was a fool thing he was starting out t o do. He was going to try to find the gir l who was writing those notes. It wa s foolish to try, because it was about a s impossible a task as a man ever set fo r himself, but it was doubly foolish becaus e what that girl was pining for was a youn g man, a man younger than Conn Conagher.
He looked at himself with no illusions.
He was a hard-grained man, a man wh o had lived a hard life, and no great beaut y to begin with. He carried scars, inside a s well as out, and about all he had left wa s some years of hard work and a boy's drea m of the girl he would find some day.
Oh, he had it, all right! Conaghe r considered himself with sour humor. He was a damn fool who should have outlive d all that nonsense years ago. Maybe it wa s the fault of having read too much o f Walter Scott while still not dry behind th e ears.
So here he was, riding north across th e plains looking for a will-o'-the-wisp. He checked out every piece of old tumblewee d he saw, but found no messages. He camped at night wherever he could find a good place.
When a week had gone by withou t finding a single message, he rode off th e plains and headed toward the Plaza.
There, in Callahan's, he met Charli e McCloud.
I'll buy the drinks , McCloud offered.
No, that's block and tackle whiskey.
You take a drink, and then you walk a block and you'll tackle anything. I'm going to sit with you and have a beer .
From what Smoke Parnell says, yo u don't need whiskey. You'll just tackl e anything, any time .
You've seen him ?
I saw him when he was pullin' hi s freight for Montana. He said a decen t outlaw couldn't make a livin' with yo u around .
He's a tough man .
McCloud glanced at him . Didn't I se e you with a blanket roll behind you r saddle? Are you drifting again ?
I've got tumbleweed fever .
You too?
What d'you mean, me too ?
Seems to me half the cowhands in th e country are hunting tumbleweeds thes e days. Somebody found a note tied to one , and that started it .
Conagher felt a swell of irritation withi n him . Note? What kind of a note ?
From some girl up north at least , she's probably up north. She's bee n writing little notes or poetry or somethin g and tying them to tumbleweeds. Just goe s to show what happens when you're to o long alone .
How do you know she's alone ?
The notes sound like it. The cowhand s over east of here are makin' bets o n whether she's short and fat, tall an d skinny, a blond or a brunette .
She's probably got a husband who's broader across the shoulders than he i s between the eyes , Conagher said dryly.
They better leave it lay .
I don't know. Anyway, it's got the m all stirred up. If she keeps it up, all th e cow outfits in the country will be shorthanded .
Conagher traced circles on the table to p with his beer glass. He was annoyed.
Couldn't a man even have a dream il l by himself? But he should have guesse d there would be others who found thos e notes.
How far north have they found them ? h e asked.
I don't know. All across the country, I guess. I've only talked to them along th e stage lines .
A tumbleweed can roll a mighty lon g way. Hell, that woman may be marrie d and have two kids since she wrote thos e notes. How you going to tell how old th e notes are ?
Conagher signaled for a refill . Speakin' o f a woman with two kids , he said, . how's that Mrs. Teale gettin' along ?
Had a hard winter, I guess. I haven't j seen or talked to her in three, four weeks.
I've seen them around when the stage r oll s by ... they always wave .
Wonder what ever happened to he r husband ?
McCloud shrugged . He was carryin g money. Four hundred in gold, she told me. Now, yo u know a man can't just carr y money like that unless he's careful. But , there's a lot coul d have happened. How many men have you known who rode of f and just disappeared?
A few years ago , he went on , w e found an empty stage out on the plain s with nobody aboard, the horses feedin g along the road, the driver and the tw o passengers gone. We never did figure ou t what happened. Maybe they all got out t o look at something, or to walk up a stee p grade, and something scared the team an d they ran off ... there's a lot could hav e happened. You know about how long a man can last in this country without a horse and without water .
In the morning Conagher rode eas t riding slow, checking the tumbleweeds a s he went. They were old tumbleweeds, lef t over from the previous year, and on th e one paper he found, the message had bee n erased by snow and rain.
After four days he saw to the north a thin column of smoke rising that he kne w was on the Teale place, and he swung hi s horse and rode in that direction.
He had gone no more than fifty yard s when he saw the trail of at least a doze n riders, going east. The grass was only no w springing back into place; they must hav e gone by within the hour. Off the trail an d keeping to low ground, as low as you coul d find in this almost flat plains country, h e went on. Because of the grass, he coul d find no distinctive prints, but they seeme d to be unshod horses.
Well, boy, he said to the horse , I reckon you better build a fire under you r heels. We got some travelin' to do !
He lifted the horse into a gallop , standing in the stirrups from time to tim e to get a better view of the country. He was close to the Teale place now, an d all was quiet there. He could see th e boy in the yard cutting wood; he coul d see him swing the axe, see it fall . . . a nd then an instant later he heard th e sound.
He closed in at a hard gallop, swung int o the yard and wheeled his horse . Laban , where's your ma and sister ?
Hi, Mr. Conagher! They went up th e draw to pick greens. What's the matter ?
Get in the cabin and stand by for a fight. There are Indians around. I'll ge t the womenfolks !
He slicked his Winc
hester from th e scabbard, saw the boy dart for the cabin , and then he went up the draw at a pounding run.
Evie and Ruthie were corning back, an d he wheeled around . Quick! Get a foot in a stirrup, one on each! Hurry !
What's wrong? Evie asked.
Paches, he said shortly, and too k them back down the draw and wheeled u p to the cabin . Get in, fast , he said.
He turned the horse and trotted it to th e gate, then swung down, swung the gat e open, and led the dun into the shed. He was hurrying toward the cabin when h e heard the Indians coming. It was too lat e to make the cabin, though he saw two gu n muzzles showing from loop holes, an d knew the Apaches would see them, too.
They had swung around to the east an d approached the cabin walking their horses.
He counted eleven, all braves. He ha d stopped near the door, but out of line wit h the loop holes.
One of the warriors he knew by name, a t least three of them by sight. Benactiny , often called Benito, was a great warrior , and a fighting man with more than usua l wisdom.
Hello, Benito, Conagher said casually . You boys are pretty far north, aren't you ?
These mountains? Benactiny swep t his hand toward the Mogollons wer e Apache medicine ground. This is ou r place .
This is a time of change , Conaghe r said conversationally . I heard you wer e livin' in the Sierra Madres, in Mexico .
I live there, the Indian replie d sullenly . Too many white soldie r come .
Soldiers never worried Benito , Conaghe r said . Nobody could drive Benactin y and his warriors. Benactiny wen t because he wished to go. He went to th e lonely mountains where there was runnin g water and many trees. He has been happ y there .
Benactiny's expression did not change.
He was a proud man, as Conagher knew.
You are right, the Apache said.
Nobody could drive Benactiny, but thi s is my land, too .
Once it was your land , Conaghe r admitted, and then slyly, his expressio n innocent, he added , Once it wa s Mimbres land .
We took it from the Mimbres , Benactiny replied proudly.
And then you went away and the whit e man has come. There are many whit e men, and they still come. They are a s many as blades of grass upon the Plains o f St. Augustine, and for everyone who dies , five will rise in his place.
Conagher (1969) Page 12
