Falconer's Law

by Jason Manning

  "My father is an evil man."

  "If this has something to do with the boy Remo killed . . ."

  She lowered her hands. Tears glistened on her pale cheeks. "You do not understand. My father . . . he . . . I am too ashamed to speak of it."

  Eben's heart went out to her. Sombra was genuinely distraught, and clearly desperate as well, to turn to a total stranger for help. Whatever her trouble, what could she expect of him? What did she think he could do? He was no Hugh Falconer. Eben doubted if even a man like Falconer could take on Don Carlos and his men alone and hope to survive. But Eben could not bring himself to turn her away. Not when she was crying like that.

  "Listen, miss, if you'll just turn around I'd . . . well, I'd like to get some clothes on, if you don't mind."

  With a glimmer of hope in her eyes, Sombra did as he asked. Eben slipped out of bed on the other side and donned his borrowed clothes in record time. Then he went around the bed, took her ever so gently by the arm, and guided her to the chair over by the window. He sat her down and hunkered down in front of her.

  "I honestly don't know what I can do," he said, "but if there is any way in the world to help you, I will."

  Her smile was tenuous. "I knew you were a good and brave man, Señor Nall."

  "Well, I don't know about that . . ."

  "My father comes to my bed."

  She blurted it out, and the expression on her face told Eben she had never spoken of this to anyone else. Shame burned in her cheeks.

  Eben was stunned. Surely he hadn't heard right!

  "Es verdad," she breathed, looking away. "It is true. I wish it were not. Several times this thing has happened. It makes me sick to my stomach just to think of it."

  "Good God. How long has this been going on?"

  "For a year, maybe a little more."

  "And you've told no one else?"

  "Who could I tell?" she asked, in despair.

  "That feller Remo, maybe. I think he'd probably do just about anything for you, if you asked him."

  The look of disgust on her face somehow cheered Eben. Obviously she did not hold Remo in very high regard.

  "Remo would never turn against my father. Not even for me. And I never would ask him, anyway."

  "So you know he has feelings for you."

  "He does not really care for me. He wants to marry me so that the hacienda would be his one day."

  "I see."

  "Consuela knows. She would help me if she could. But what can she do?" Leaning urgently forward, she clutched his hand in both of hers. "Please. Help me escape. I cannot bear it any longer."

  "You're not free to come and go as you please?"

  "I am a prisoner here. When I ride, two vaqueros must always be with me. This is my father's law. He says it is for my protection. But he knows I would keep riding and never return of my own free will, if once he let me pass through the gates alone."

  Eben thought it over. If they could steal some horses and slip away under cover of night, by dawn they could be well on their way back to the brigade, their lead too great for . . .

  What was he thinking? He could not in good conscience place the entire brigade in jeopardy like that. Chagres could probably put a hundred men into the field, every last one of them sworn to die in the service of his patrón.

  On the other hand, knowing what he did, he could not simply go his way and leave Sombra to her fate.

  He heaved a deep sigh. "I didn't tell your father the truth, miss. I'm not alone. I came to California with some friends. When I leave tomorrow I will talk to Hugh Falconer. He's our booshway . . . our leader. If anyone can think of a way to get you out of this, it will be Falconer."

  She squeezed his hand tighter, panic flaring in her eyes. "No. You must not leave me here."

  "I won't be leaving you here, at least not for good. Miss, listen to me. I give you my solemn word, I'll help you somehow. Even if I have to come back alone. I'll come back."

  She studied his earnest face for a moment, Then that trembling, sad, brave smile reappeared. "I believe you."

  He stood, helped her to her feet. "I'll get you out. Take you wherever you want to go."

  "I have nowhere to go."

  "No other family?"

  She shook her head. "No place in California would be safe. My father is a very powerful man. No one who lives here would dare stand against him."

  "Well, then, where . . .?"

  "I will go with you."

  "Back to the mountains? That's a pretty rough trip, miss."

  But why, he thought, would that matter to her? After what she had suffered here, escape would be worth any price, wouldn't it?

  "Please. My name is Sombra."

  Hands resting light as feathers on his broad shoulders, she stood on tiptoes and her lips, soft and wet with tears, brushed his cheek.

  Then she was gone, as silently as she had come.

  Stunned, Eben stood there a while, staring at the door that she had closed so softly behind her. Finally he sank into the chair and touched his cheek in wonder, breathed deep to capture the trace of sweet fragrance yet lingering in the air.

  A little before dawn he dozed off, sitting up in the chair. A commotion outside roused him from his restless sleep. Dawn light pearled the sky. The sun had yet to rise above the Sierras' formidable high reaches.

  Looking out the window, Eben's heart leaped with joy.

  Hugh Falconer, Rube Holly, and Sixkiller—the Flathead warrior leading Eben's Appaloosa mare—were coming through the hacienda's main gate.

  Eben Nall was so happy to see Falconer and the others—even Sixkiller—that he had a powerful urge to run down to the front door and greet them with open arms. Then he thought better of it. Maybe he ought to just sit tight and see what happened.

  Between the time that Falconer and Rube Holly entered the house—Sixkiller stayed outside to watch the horses, glowering at the curious Californios who hovered around him—and Remo came up to the room to fetch him, Eben tried to exercise a little self-discipline and stay seated in the chair by the window. But he couldn't; instead he paced the floor for a good thirty minutes. When Remo knocked, he threw the door open.

  "Come," said the vaquero.

  For some reason unbeknownst to him, Eben decided to play disingenuous. "What's going on?"

  Remo's lips curled. It was a smirk, not a smile. "You lied."

  "Oh, well, I didn't lie, exactly," replied Eben, feeling much bolder now that Hugh Falconer was around. "I just didn't tell the whole truth."

  "Your companeros have come looking for you." Remo nodded sideways, indicating that he wanted Eben to precede him.

  Falconer and Rube were standing with Don Carlos in the big room adjacent to the entry hall, where Eben had first laid eyes on Sombra. Relief washed over Rube Holly's craggy features when he saw Eben.

  "Hoss, we thought you was gone beaver."

  "Almost was."

  "Yeah, I know. Even Sixkiller was worried. Was you to go and git yoreself kilt before he has a chance to save yore life and square things between the two of you, why it would be a black stain upon his honor."

  "I'm fine," said Eben, "thanks to Don Carlos and his men."

  Until now he had carefully avoided looking at Chagres, but now he did so. Just as he had expected, powerful dislike for the man surged through him—so powerful he could taste bile. He tried to keep his features impassive, taking a page from Remo's book. It wasn't easy, knowing what he knew about the son of a bitch.

  "I tracked you best I could," said Rube, "but that ravine slowed me down some. When I heard the shootin' I come runnin'. But this feller"—the old-timer motioned at Remo—"this feller and his three pardners got to you first. When I seen they warn't gonna curl yore toes, I figured I ought to git back to Hugh and tell him what happened."

  "Don't fret about it, Rube." Eben could tell Holly was bothered some by what had transpired.

  "I was skeered you might have thought I let you down," confessed Rube.

&
nbsp; Eben smiled, put a hand on the old codger's bony shoulder. "Not a chance. I knew you were around. Remo just beat you to it." He turned to Chagres. "I apologize, Don Carlos. I couldn't tell you . . ."

  "I've explained all that," said Falconer. "You were acting under my orders not to divulge the existence of the brigade."

  "I admire loyalty," said Chagres. "Señor Falconer assures me you mean to make no trouble for us, and I believe him. It is apparent to me that he is a man of honor. I have suggested he go straight to Monterey to see the governor-general, and explain everything to him. I know Don Luis. He is a reasonable man."

  "Don Carlos," said Falconer, "has kindly offered to accompany us to Monterey and intercede with the governor-general on our behalf."

  But what of Sombra? Eben desperately wanted a moment alone with Hugh Falconer to tell him about the girl. Somehow he had to get her away from Hacienda Gavilan. One thing was certain: he wasn't about to leave her behind.

  "I have other business I need to attend to in Monterey," said Chagres. "I have needed to make the journey for some time now. Besides, I promised my daughter she could buy some new dresses in the shops there."

  "Sombra is coming with us?" blurted Eben.

  All four of the others gave him a funny look. Eben wanted to kick himself for being such a loose-tongued fool.

  Fantastic plans whirled through his mind. Surely it would be easier to slip away with Sombra once they reached Monterey. Maybe they could book passage on a merchant ship. Don Carlos would never catch them then. But how could he pay for such a passage? He was as poor as a church mouse.

  Of course, there was always the Appaloosa . . .

  Could he give up the mare to help Sombra?

  Yes, he decided. He could, though it would pain him to do so.

  "Sombra will accompany us," said Chagres. The gaze he fixed on Eben Nall was piercing, speculative, and Eben realized that by his careless words he had made the task of helping Sombra escape her father more problematical. Chagres would be watching him now, suspecting something. And, of course, there would be Remo to contend with. Eben did not doubt for a moment that Remo would kill him rather than let him take Sombra away.

  "We will leave tomorrow morning," continued Don Carlos, "if that is acceptable to you, Señor Falconer."

  "We'll ride and bring back the brigade," replied Falconer.

  Eben felt a hard cold knot twist his guts. He would be expected to ride with Falconer, which meant leaving Sombra here, at least one more night, at the mercy of Chagres. What would she think if she saw him ride away? He could derive some consolation from knowing that Don Carlos would surely tell her about the arrangements for the journey to Monterey. But Eben desperately wracked his brain for a plausible ruse that might buy him one minute alone, now, with Sombra, so he could reassure her that he was not deserting her, wasn't going back on his word, not to worry.

  He didn't get the chance. A few minutes later he and Falconer and Rube and Sixkiller were mounting up to leave the hacienda. Eben was frantic.

  Then the serving woman, Consuela, came out of the house with his buckskins. They had been scrubbed and mended and neatly folded. As he leaned in the saddle to take the buckskins from her, knowing that he was taking a big chance, he whispered so that only Consuela could hear.

  "Tell Sombra I'll keep my promise."

  He rode on with the others, wondering if the woman had understood even a word, wondering too where Sombra was at this moment, and praying that if she was watching she would not give up hope.

  Chapter 22

  They were still within sight of the hacienda when Eben Nall urged the Appaloosa to a slightly faster gait, which brought him alongside Falconer's shaggy, half-wild mountain mustang.

  "Mr. Falconer, I need to talk to you."

  "Later."

  "But I've got something real important to tell you."

  Falconer's eyes stabbed at him like a pair of daggers. "I know you're up to your eyebrows in something, Eben. We'll talk it over—later."

  There was a definite note of finality in Falconer's voice that made it clear to Eben that this was the booshway's last word on the subject. Dejected, Eben climbed rein leather to slow the Appaloosa, allowing Falconer to go on ahead, while Rube Holly came alongside.

  "Rube, I . . ."

  The old-timer held up a gnarled hand. "Don't go tellin' me yore troubles, boy."

  "But Rube . . ." Thoroughly frustrated, Eben stopped the mare in her tracks.

  Trying hard to suppress a smile, Rube Holly shook his head and rode on after Falconer.

  Sixkiller came alongside, stopped his horse, and looked with impeccable stoicism at Eben.

  "Just forget it," muttered Eben and angrily heeled the Appaloosa into a canter.

  They rode most of the day, stopping briefly twice to loosen their saddle cinches so the horses could blow, always at a stream running clear and sweet like wine over tree-shaded, smooth gray stones, from which men and mounts could drink their fill. Both times Eben teetered on the brink of confronting Falconer and demanding that the man listen to him. But Falconer seemed to be wrapped up in deep thoughts and never gave Eben an opening.

  As they were remounting after the second stop, Rube Holly swung by and gave Eben a word of advice.

  "I kin tell sumpin's got yore insides tied up in a knot, boy. But whatever you do, don't go and rile Hugh Falconer, hear?"

  They reached the brigade about sundown. All the men gathered round to welcome Eben back and to tell him how glad they were he was still among the living. They wanted to hear about his adventures, but Eben wasn't in the mood. Rube Holly took up the slack for him. He knew most of it anyway. What he had not seen with his own eye, the ground—which he could read like other men read a book—had told him all he needed to know to make the picture complete.

  Eben managed to slip away as night fell and found a spot near a creek where he could sit in lush grass and listen to the music of the stream tripping past, with his back to the trunk of a stately old oak tree. Crickets chorused in the tule, and unseen night birds chirruped in the boughs above his head. The stars twinkled in a lambent purple sky. Eben was heartsick. He was so far removed from Sombra Chagres! And she—she was still a prisoner in Hacienda Gavilan, subject to the sick whims of her father. Eben was of half a mind to slip away from camp in the middle of the night and ride back to save her—or at least die trying . . .

  "I'll listen now to what you have to say."

  Eben jumped to his feet and whirled to find Hugh Falconer standing there.

  "I didn't hear you come up."

  "You've got a lot of loud thoughts rattling around in your head."

  Eben knew that wasn't it. Falconer was a big man, but light on his feet. Moving soundlessly was second nature to him.

  Falconer hunkered down on his heels. The clay pipe materialized; he packed it with tobacco and then, leaving it unlighted, chewed on the tip. That gave Eben some time to sort out what he wanted to say. It was funny, though. Eben had been dying to tell Falconer about Sombra, and now that the moment was upon him he didn't know exactly where to start.

  "I reckon what you want to tell me has something to do with that girl Sombra," surmised Falconer.

  "How did you know?"

  "When Don Carlos said he was taking his daughter to Monterey along with him, well, you should have seen your face."

  "I was that obvious?"

  "It was as plain as the ears on a mule."

  "She asked me to help her run away."

  Falconer contemplated this revelation for a moment, chewing the unlit pipe. "What did you tell her?"

  "I promised to help in any way I could."

  "How come?"

  "She has no one else to turn to."

  " 'What a woman says should be written in wind and running water.' One of the Roman poets—I forget which."

  "That's not fair. You've not even met her. How do you know what she's like? How can you judge her?"

  "You're right. I've not had much experience
with women."

  "What about Touches the Moon? She must have been a good person, for you to love her the way you did."

  Falconer's eyes glittered like chips of black ice in the darkness. "True enough," he conceded gruffly. "And we'll say no more about Touches the Moon."

  "Sorry. It's just that, well, Sombra is desperate. She's about at the end of her rope. Her father has been . . . he's . . ." Eben didn't know how to put it.

  "Incest?"

  "Not willingly, on her part."

  Falconer pondered some more. "I knew there had to be a reason I didn't cotton to that man."

  "Then can I count on you to help us?"

  "No."

  Eben was stunned. "But why not?"

  Falconer sighed. "I have a responsibility to the men in this brigade. I won't get them all killed on account of your girl." He fastened a steely gaze on Eben. "And you won't either."

  "I gave her my solemn word."

  "So you've said. You also gave me your word, back on the Green River. Swore you would live by my rules as long as you rode with the brigade."

  Eben had no retort for that. What Falconer said was true. It was time to make a decision. He had to choose—Sombra or the brigade?

  "Then maybe I ought not to be a part of the brigade any longer, Mr. Falconer."

  Falconer looked off into the night. "Since I know how much taking part in this expedition meant to you, I reckon you must be in love with this girl."

  "In love?" Eben was shocked. "Why, no, at least I don't think I am. I mean I haven't . . ."

  "Sometimes love Indians up on you, so as you don't notice it coming until it's too late to defend yourself. Happened that way with me. I used to visit the Shoshone village where Touches the Moon lived, once or twice a year. I knew who she was all along, but I never really paid her much attention, or gave her much thought, or at least I didn't think so, until I found out that a Snake raiding party had hit the village and stolen some horses and a few young women. Touches the Moon was one of those women. That's when it hit me. Her being gone really bothered me."

  "What did you do?"

  "I rode with the Shoshones to get their horses and womenfolk back, of course. One of the Snakes had taken a strong liking to Touches the Moon, and he wasn't about to let her live if he couldn't have her. When the tide of battle turned against him and his, he was all set to split her skull open with his war club."