Blake called out, “Parrant, I’m coming across now. Your rope secure?”
“Sure,” came the wind-thinned answer. “On my pommel.” Blake’s stare cut across the river. Parrant stood near his horse on the high bank. Tall and lean and broad of shoulder, he looked completely unaffected by the crossing. The sky was still gray and through the curtain of drizzle everything lay in a vague and indistinct light, but even so, Blake could see that Parrant was grinning.
“Get me that rope, Parrant!” he called angrily.
But the tall man stepped into his saddle and laughed. “Time’s short,” he called back. “Can’t stay here waitin’ for you to come across. I’m obliged, Durant, we worked real fine together.”
Blake cursed. “We made a deal.”
“Sure, and it cancelled itself out when I pulled you from the river. If we cross trails again, mister, I’ll be figurin’ we’re square. See you!”
Parrant gave a brief wave and, laughing, turned his horse along the high bank. Blake watched him go, seeing his rope being washed down the river. He came off Sundown, untied the rope from the tree and looped it over the pommel. The only thing he could do now was go back to Shay’s depot.
He cursed Parrant as he dragged Sundown out of the mud and swung onto him. Across the river he could see Parrant riding hard towards Moon. He turned into the icy slash of the rain and went on his way.
Three – Fools’ Frontier
Iverson was slumped in a high-backed chair, a rug across his knees and a drink in his hand. Beth Cantrell was sitting with her grandfather at the table Parrant had claimed as his own during his stay at Tim Shay’s place. Josh McHarg was standing on the back porch watching the weather and Tim Shay was cleaning up his bar and making a lot of noise with glasses.
When Blake Durant walked in, all eyes turned his way. He noticed a sudden gleam of relief rise in the young woman’s eyes. He took off his hat and dropped it on the counter. Tim Shay looked curiously at him for a moment before he said:
“No dice?”
Blake shook his head. “Parrant made it.”
Shay frowned. “Then why in hell—?”
Blake dropped some change on the counter. “He made it, I didn’t. Let’s leave it at that.”
Shay brought him a drink and set it down. Conrad Cantrell rose from the side table and worked some cramp out of his old legs before he began to drag himself across the room. McHarg came in from outside and joined Blake, looking thirstily at his drink. Blake gestured for Shay to get McHarg a glass and the old-timer nodded his thanks.
Then Iverson grated, “You let him go, Durant, so you’re as bad as him. Parrant’s a damn killer and you knew it. You helped a damned outlaw and killer get clear away.”
Blake turned and eyed the cowhand coolly. “Who said he was a killer, Iverson?”
“Know it, that’s all. Hell, you seen him clear enough, didn’t you? His damn guns are slung real low, the pair of them. You seen how mean he was, too, cuttin’ down Ed and wantin’ my hide, too.”
“Figure Ludlow deserved all he got,” Blake said. “And maybe you deserved more than you got, mister. So shut down and count your blessings.”
“That’s easy for you to say. Look at me. I’m near dead from a killer’s damn bullet and stuck in this louse-hole with these no-accounts. And it’s your damn fault, Durant, for tyin’ in with Parrant. You come up through the Platte country, you said?”
Blake nodded.
Iverson’s face turned ugly. “Then you should get thrown in jail, Durant, for helpin’ that killer. Ed was down the Platte River way and he knew about Parrant. So how come you didn’t?”
Blake’s brow furrowed. “Didn’t know what, Iverson?”
“About them damn Parrant scum—the one who was here and his sawn-off runt of a killer brother, Larry, in Moon. Ed says they both got a price on their heads, which was why we set after Parrant, meanin’ to hold him till the weather broke and we could get him to a lawman. But you bought in with him, so we had to do it all on our own and Ed got killed. Then you went off and let that killer escape. That makes you no better’n he is.”
Blake picked up his drink and put his back to the bar. McHarg looked thoughtful. Maybe he was ticking off the events of the past few days in his mind. Across the room, Beth Cantrell was pale and her grandfather, who had walked partly to Blake and stopped, was looking uncertainly at him.
Blake glared at Iverson. “Mister, you went for Parrant to rob him and you missed out. That’s how it was and that’s how it stays, so don’t talk any more against me or against Parrant unless you’ve got absolute proof. When he was here you were shivering in your boots.”
Iverson swore. Josh McHarg put in, “That’s a fact, Durant. Ludlow and Iverson was almost too scared to breathe when Parrant looked at ’em. And as far as I know Parrant didn’t do nothin’ here but put them two polecats in their place.”
Iverson glared furiously at McHarg who refilled his glass and again nodded his thanks to Blake. Then Conrad Cantrell walked to the bar and Blake drew up a stool for the old man to perch on. When the gray-haired old man was seated, Blake offered him a drink. Cantrell shook his head and said:
“I think you are dead right about those two—the one who was shot and that other apology for a man sitting over there. Let’s just ignore his presence, shall we?”
“I’ve already done that,” Blake said.
“Good. Now perhaps, we can talk like sensible people. You strike me as a man with breeding and experience.”
Blake shrugged. Conrad Cantrell fingered the edge of the bar counter and after a careful look at McHarg and Tim Shay, he went on, speaking very quietly:
“I’ve lived far from a sheltered life myself. I’ve been through good and hard times and have no regrets. But ill health has finally caught up with me, and my granddaughter was advised, on doctor’s orders, to get me to a drier climate.” The old man’s eyes sparked with amusement. He pointed to the window through which the rain could still be seen drizzling down. “Somebody played a trick on us, it seems.”
“Been drier than a rattler’s guts for months, Mr. Cantrell,” said Tim Shay. “Weren’t no trick played on you—you just come at the wrong time. You’ll see it get dry again soon enough, for months on end, and hardly no hope of a let-up. If it’s heat and dry you want, mister, you’re sure on the right trail.”
“I’m glad to hear that, Mr. Shay,” Cantrell said, still smiling. He turned to Blake Durant again. “What I want to talk to you about, are the business prospects in this country. As I said, you strike me as a man of breeding and experience, so I’d be greatly obliged for some information.”
“On what?” Blake asked.
Beth Cantrell came across the room now, looking more comfortable. Her gaze went to Blake’s and a smile showed on her warm mouth.
“We have a certain amount of money put away,” she said. “It’s enough perhaps to buy a place and stock it reasonably. We have discussed this matter with several bankers back east and they all assured us that the country west of here is ready to be opened up.”
Blake shook his head and put down his glass. He figured Beth Cantrell was as good looking a woman as he had ever seen—with one notable exception. She had the manners of a lady, the carriage of one, and of course, the inexperience in business matters that went along with a genteel upbringing.
He said, “Very little country on the frontier, ma’am, is opened up. Mostly folks have to go in and open it up for themselves. That entails a great amount of financial risk plus personal exposure to dangers you wouldn’t even have heard about back east.”
Beth frowned and bit at her lower lip. But Conrad Cantrell looked determinedly at Blake and said, “We did not expect it would be easy, Mr. Durant. In fact, we are prepared for a rough time. But the key fact is, I’ve been reliably informed that my health will improve in a dry climate. I might not be able to ride a horse now, but I can manage a business and my granddaughter is a lot more formidable than she may appear. It hasn’t
been an easy task for Beth, looking after an old spent jasper like myself for close on five years.”
Blake acknowledged this with a smile Beth’s way. She blushed under the wash of it and fidgeted with her blouse strings. Her young, rounded body looked strikingly appealing to him, but he still had his reservations about this couple’s ability to do battle with the frontier.
He said, “How much capital do you have, Mr. Cantrell?”
McHarg turned, looking keenly at the old man. Conrad Cantrell pursed his lips and glanced guardedly at each man in turn. Then his shoulders squared.
“I have close on ten thousand dollars.”
“That’s enough for a place close to town,” Blake told him. “I strongly advise buying close in your condition and at your age. Farther out, there’s more chance of bigger profit, but a man has to fight for every dollar of it. There is also the danger, in isolation, of being jumped by thieving jaspers and renegades of all kinds on the drift. Not everybody, as you no doubt realize, is like Shay and McHarg.”
“Or yourself, Mr. Durant,” the old man said with a grin. “You must not be too modest.” He worked about on the stool, fingering the gold watch chain which hung from his vest. He nodded to himself a couple of times, then went on, “I think your advice is good, Mr. Durant. If we’re close to town it will give us access to the little social niceties that my granddaughter will need. It will also allow me to make arrangements with a doctor. But can we buy a good, productive place for that money and stock it well enough to be assured of a good future?”
Blake nodded. “If you deal through a registered stock agent he’ll see that you get some prime land with a livable house, and he’ll help you buy the right stock. I don’t think you’ll have any problems. When you have the place, visit a sheriff and get his advice on available cowhands. Hire a man who has managed men before, who has had a turn at ramrodding some place. No worry about his age—some of the old jaspers are worth a half dozen younger and flightier ones, and your granddaughter will be safer with an older, proven, reliable man.”
Beth blushed again. Conrad Cantrell nodded thoughtfully. “Thank you, Mr. Durant. That has the sound of good advice. Can you tell me anymore?”
“Well, the first thing to do, once the stock is ordered is to get a good foreman. Once you settle out here, everybody gets curious about you. In no time at all everybody will know that an old man and a fine looking girl have set down roots. Most will welcome you, but some will figure you for easy taking. So have a hired hand before you set out, one who can handle stock, knows the ways of the weather, and can use a gun.”
Blake looked directly at Iverson and saw his lips peel back in a sneer. He knew Iverson had not missed one word of the talk, and he sensed that the man’s evil little mind was already working on some way to get a cut of Cantrell’s money. He hoped the old man was not travelling with the cash in his saddlebags.
“I’ll do all that, Mr. Durant,” Cantrell said. “Now there’s one last question I must put to you. Can you advise me what area to settle in, one close to a town with healthy law and order and a good doctor?”
Blake shook his head and jerked his thumb at McHarg. “He can tell you more about this country than I can. Moon’s the next town. I hear it’s big and on the grow.”
McHarg shrugged. “Moon’s as good as the next town, I reckon. The lawmen are solid, that’s for sure. But there ain’t no section out here a man would stake his life on bettin’ it’s safe. Out here things is right likely to blow up in anybody’s face if he don’t take proper care. There’s always the chance of jaspers on the drift comin’ through, just spoilin’ for trouble.”
As McHarg spoke, Blake finished his drink and left the counter. He went to the back porch and stared into the expanse of country sweeping away from the depot. The drizzle had all but stopped and visibility was a lot better than it had been for five days. He turned as Beth Cantrell joined him. She did not look at him but he could see that her cheeks were pink and her hands trembled a little as she placed them on the wet rail.
“What about you, Mr. Durant?” she asked. “What are your plans?”
“I’m going to Moon,” he said.
“For any special reason, Mr. Durant?”
Blake shrugged. “Life has very few special reasons for me, ma’am. I come and I go.”
“Oh.” She was silent for a long time before she said, “What do you really think of Mr. Parrant?”
“He’s his own man.”
“Do you feel you did wrong in helping him get away?” Now her embarrassment was more evident—but only in the quaver in her voice. Her hands had stopped shaking and there was a kind of resolution in her deep-set eyes. It never failed to amaze Blake how easily womenfolk could be disturbed and how quickly they could get control of themselves.
“I don’t see it as Parrant escaping from something, Miss Cantrell. He needed to get to a certain place at a certain time. What he planned to do at the other end of his trip I just don’t know. I don’t even care about it. In a like situation, I’d have asked him to help me and I think he might have.”
“But he is an outlaw, isn’t he?”
Blake smiled. “The more you listen to drifters like Iverson, the more this frontier will seem like a kind of battleground. Better to just ignore his kind except to keep a check on them. Don’t ever turn your back to them and keep your belongings where you can see them.”
Beth nodded, smiling in understanding. “I see. Have you any other advice to offer me ... personally?”
Blake noticed the amused gleam in her eyes and returned her smile. “I think, Miss Cantrell, that you’ve had more than your share of attention from menfolk. If you haven’t, then you’ve been living with blind people.” He turned back to watch the weather lifting. “Advice? No, I don’t think I have any for you except to look after your grandfather. He strikes me as being a fine old man.”
Her eyes went soft. “He is, he’s just wonderful. I pray every night that he will get his health back. Before his illness struck him down he could ride with men half his age, and he used to stride through our town as if he owned it, and everybody liked him. I don’t think he ever had an enemy.”
Blake leaned across the rail. Just then McHarg joined them, gave Beth a smile and said, “Weather’s lifting. From the color of that sky yonder, Durant, I figure the rain’s gone for good now. The river won’t take long going down.”
Blake straightened. “How long?” he asked.
“By morning the crossing should be shallow enough. Peculiar country this. Floods come and then they go almost before you can remember what they were like.”
“Do you think we can leave tomorrow?” Beth asked, relief showing in her blue eyes.
McHarg shrugged. “Me and Durant can, ma’am, but I reckon Iverson won’t be stirring for some time. As for you and your grandfather, I think you should wait a couple of days then head towards the mountains like I told you to do. That trail will be right slushed but there’s plenty of high country which will drain quick enough. You get to the mountains and you’ll find the trail going through the pass. From there it’s a breeze into Moon.”
Blake saw disappointment in Beth’s face. But she said nothing. She just looked longingly into the wide country and then she said, “Thank you for the advice, both of you.” She turned to Blake. “I hope you see us before you leave.”
“Sure,” he said.
Beth went off. McHarg leaned against the rail and studied Blake heavily for a long time.
“She’s struck with you, Durant. You ain’t doin’ nothin’ important, are you? Why not string along with the old man, help him get set up? You said yourself that they needed a reliable man and you strike me as bein’ just that—somebody who’s done some ramroddin’ and knows how to take out a place and get it functionin’ properly.”
Blake took in McHarg’s words without comment. Already the waiting was beginning to wear on him. He thought of Parrant, already on his way to Moon, laughing his head off. He cursed under hi
s breath and said:
“I’ll be cutting out first light in the morning, McHarg. Coming?”
“Sure. My horse’ll make it and I’m travelling light anyway. The sooner I get away from Iverson the better I’m goin’ to feel. I keep gettin’ the notion that sooner or later I’m gonna get a bullet of his in the back.”
Blake remained silent. An image of Beth Cantrell took form in his mind and he had to push it away. The old man would just have to look after her. As for Iverson, Cantrell and Shay could handle a wounded man easily enough. He went back inside and leaned back in a chair. Within minutes he was dozing, his hat pulled down over his eyes and the sounds of the depot fast fading from his consciousness.
Four – Break in the Trail
Tim Shay came onto the depot porch and shaded his eyes against the harsh sun glare. Directly behind stood Conrad Cantrell with Beth beside him. Josh McHarg clambered out, shouldering his trail gear. He stood a moment, eyes filled with a brightness that matched the smile on his weathered face.
“Damn beautiful,” he said. “Just look at that sun.”
“It is going to be a lovely day,” Beth said and hooked her hand under her grandfather’s elbow.
“Be that all right,” put in Tim Shay. “Day or two from now, when the ground dries, you folks are gonna see somethin’ so damned great you’ll remember it for the rest of your days. Everything green, soft, bursting into life. This is the kind of country which kinda sits and waits, bides its time. One day it’s so damn desolate and dead-lookin’, it makes a man want to crawl inside and just sit and do nothin’. Next, with a couple of showers, it springs up all around you, fair draggin’ you outa yourself and makin’ you shift. Good country. God’s country.”
“That and more,” said Josh McHarg and shook Cantrell’s hand, nodded a farewell to Beth and gave Tim Shay a wave. “Be seein’ you, Tim, soon’s I get together some skins. ’Bout a month, I reckon.”
The Loner 3 Page 3
