The question was, did she want that home? Was she too ashamed? Would she light out, rather than have her father find her like this? Would she be able to stand the questions she would see in her father’s eyes, and in Bobby’s too?
But she had a right to know—and make that decision for herself. Wolf decided he would bring the matter up that evening after supper. It was not a pleasant prospect.
She brought his supper out to him and they ate together on the grass. It was almost a picnic, the way she handled it. She was feeling much better, he noticed, and no longer wearing that silly dance hall dress—and she had washed him, changed his dressings and made him feel as clean as she smelled. The exertion of scrubbing and beating the clothes seemed to have given her a vitality she had not shown before. Her cheeks glowed and the swelling on the right side of her face was almost completely gone.
After she brought the supper dishes back inside and washed them, she came back out and sat next to him on a camp stool.
She sat quietly, without a word. And Wolf was reluctant to break the peaceful stillness of the valley. In spite of the altitude, the climate of the valley was temperate. As Wolf knew, such remote valleys as this one enjoyed milder winters than those plains and parks lower down. It was the protection afforded by the barrier of peaks on all sides that made this possible. Weed had been fortunate indeed to find himself such a haven.
At thought of Weed, he stirred and looked more closely at Mary. She caught his glance and frowned.
“You been meaning to ask me something all day, Wolf,” she said. “Why don’t you go ahead.”
“It’s about Weed.”
She took a deep breath. “What about him?” she said resignedly, as if during that same day she had decided at last to discuss the man without anger.
“You said—before—that he had bought you. Fair and square. What did you mean by that?”
“Just what I said.” She took a long look at Wolf, then glanced away, her eyes seemingly on the three horses grazing well below the barn. “I let myself get mixed up with a no-account. He made me a lot of promises and we ended up in Landusky—just as the mine was giving out. He went to pieces and lit out. He didn’t bother to say goodbye—or leave me with any money.”
“So you had to go to work.”
“That’s right. Work. You saw the dress. That was my work clothes. For three years. When I was allowed to keep them on, that is.”
“So you got tired of it.”
She shuddered involuntarily. “My God,” she said. “Tired of it? Is there anything ... worse? To be pawed, handled, used by any filthy cowpoke or miner that has the price of a beer—and sometimes ...” She shuddered again. “Yes,” she said finally, ironically. “I got tired of it.”
“Enter Weed Leeper.”
“George Carver, he called himself. A few months ago the new owners of The Miner’s Palace introduced him to me. Weed was quiet. He was not demanding. He played his hand very coolly. Yes, he did. No pawing. And he didn’t get drunk with me. He brought me presents. The new owners of the Palace said I didn’t have to work with the rest of the girls, that Mr. Carver had taken care of that. I got so I could tolerate the man. I didn’t like him, but I could tolerate him, and I liked not having to go into that ... dog pit with the other girls.” She shrugged suddenly. “So when he made his proposal, I accepted.”
“Proposal? You mean you are married to him?” She laughed, bitterly. “No, of course not. I’m stupid, yes. But I’m not crazy. Besides, he didn’t ask that. He just wanted me to go with him to his valley. To be his woman—without benefit of clergy, as they say.” She looked around quickly, at the trees and the peaks, then nodded. “He was right about this valley, though. It is a beautiful place.”
“You said he bought you.”
“I got sick a couple of years ago. Diphtheria. I almost died. The previous owner of the Palace paid the hospital bills and the doctor’s bills. So I owed him. The new owners assumed the debt. So then I owed them. Leeper paid it off. It was close to a couple of hundred. I figured this way if it didn’t turn out so hot with Leeper, I could leave him—and I wouldn’t owe anyone a cent.” She laughed shortly, bitterly, and looked around at the mountain peaks hemming in the valley. “I didn’t realize how difficult getting out of this place would be—or how impossible it would be for me to just up and walk out on Weed Leeper.”
“You became his prisoner.”
“That’s about the size of it, Wolf. You see, I don’t even know how to get out of here.”
“You don’t?”
She shook her head. “He blindfolded me when he took me into the mountains, and to make real sure, we entered the valley at night. I’ve tried to find the way out more than once.”
Wolf nodded. He could understand Mary’s difficulty. Once the trail from the ledge overlooking the valley reached the floor of the valley it lost itself in a thick grove of pines, the needles covering the ground effectively wiping out any trace of a trail. Unless Mary knew which portion of the grove to look for the trail, she would never be able to find it.
“Mary,” Wolf said, “you’ve never told me your last name.”
“I know that.”
“Is it ... Tyler? Mary Tyler?”
“Who told you?” she flared. “Who are you, anyway?”
“That’s a long story, Mary. But the one who told me your name is your father—Dan Tyler.”
“My father ...?”
“He’s moved into the area, Mary—in hopes of finding you. Bobby and he are settling along the Indian River on what looks like prime bottomland. But his main reason for settling here is because this is where he hopes to find you. You last wrote him from Landusky. Remember?”
“I remember. But you’re never going to take me to him. He’s never going to know what I’ve—what I had to become,”
“He doesn’t care, Mary. He’s long since figured that part of it out. All he wants is for you to be safe. He told me that after he went to The Palace to look for you.”
“He went looking for me there?”
“A friend of his had recognized you before you left with Weed.”
She shook her head, obviously finding it hard to believe that her father could accept that and still want her back. Then he saw the tears welling in her eyes and looked away without a word.
Later, as darkness overtook the valley, she said, “How soon do you think it’ll be before you can ride, Wolf?”
“Another day, maybe two, at the most. I’m feeling much better. Must be the cooking.”
“You’ll take me out of here?”
“Of course.”
“What about Weed? Suppose he comes back.”
“I’d like that, but I don’t think he will. I’ll have to go after him.”
“If he finds me, he’ll kill me.”
“He won’t find you.”
She looked at him closely. “When I took that bullet out of your back, Wolf—I saw other scars. There were many of them. And you’ve lost one eye. You said you weren’t a lawman. But you’re after Weed. You a bounty hunter?”
He shook his head. “There’s no price on Weed’s head.”
“Then what is it? Why are you after him. And why is your body so ... scarred?”
“Like I said before, that’s a long story, Mary. I’ll give it to you quickly, since you’ve told me yours. A long time ago when I was a young fellow—about twelve years old—five men rode into my father’s ranch and robbed him and killed him and my mother. When I tried to stop them, to bring them down—they shot me up pretty badly. Diego Sanchez was our foreman at the time. He found me, saved my life, and taught me all I know. Better than that, he gave me a purpose.”
“A purpose?”
“To find those five men and kill them, to avenge my parents.”
“And ... did you?”
“Yes, I did.”
“And Weed Leeper?”
“He needs killing as well.”
“Like those five men?”
“Like those five men.”
She shuddered and he saw her pull away from him. It was barely noticeable, and she was probably unaware herself that she had done so. But Wolf noticed—and understood.
“I’m tired,” he said to her. “Get me a blanket. I think I’ll sleep out here tonight.”
She got up and started into the cabin, then stopped and looked back down at him. “I didn’t mean to do that,” she said. “It was just the way you said it. So coldly.”
“That’s all right, Mary. I understand. You don’t have to explain.”
“But I hate Weed Leeper, too. I tried to kill him just before you came. But you make it sound so ... cold-blooded. It’s like you’ve appointed yourself a judge and a jury and an executioner. All in one.”
“I guess I have, Mary. I figure there are times when someone has to step in—do what has to be done, no matter how unpleasant it might be.”
“But you like it—killing people, I mean. Going after them and bringing them down with your gun. You must.”
“I don’t know as I like it exactly, Mary. That’s putting it pretty strong.”
“No, Wolf. That’s putting it the way it is.”
Before he could reply, she turned quickly and disappeared into the cabin.
Wolf pulled his horse up to allow Mary to ride on ahead. Dan Tyler had put down his buck saw and was watching the two of them ride up, his right hand shading his eyes. Bobby was standing in the dugout’s doorway watching as well.
Once Mary was close enough to see her father’s face, she could contain herself no longer. Whipping Weed’s pack horse to a tired gallop, she cried out her father’s name. Wolf saw Dan throw down the saw and Bobby dart toward them from out of the doorway as Mary flung herself from the horse and ran into her father’s arms.
All during the ride from the valley, Mary had been quiet and obviously very apprehensive as to how her father would greet her. But now, Wolf noted, all apprehension had vanished in a twinkling. Father and daughter were reunited. The explanations would take care of themselves.
Though he said nothing to Mary so as not to worry her, Wolf had not taken the ride from the valley well. And by this time he was staying in the saddle only through sheer tenacity. As he gently urged his black forward again, the reins felt like ropes in his hands and the animal seemed bent on throwing him with each stride.
He rode up to the happy threesome slowly, carefully, and smiled wanly down at them. He didn’t try to dismount, but clung to the pommel with his left hand instead.
“You found her!” Tyler roared, hurrying up to Wolf, his sun-blackened face split by a wide grin. “Where did you find her?”
Wolf looked down at the man. “Never mind where I found her. I found her. Ain’t that good enough?”
Tyler stepped back quickly, surprised at Wolf’s words. Quickly he glanced over at Mary, who was down on one knee talking to Bobby, her hand on his cheek, fresh tears rolling down her face. Despite the tears she was radiant. Tyler looked back up at Wolf.
“You’re right, of course. Never mind where you found Mary. I don’t care—just so you did. That’s good enough for me.”
“Fine,” Wolf managed. “Now would you mind giving me a hand getting off this horse? I think I’m going to fall off.”
Wolf leaned out toward the man and tried to pull his left leg over the cantle. But his head was swimming by that time. All he remembered was the astonished Tyler catching him and pulling him free of the horse, then steering him toward the sod dug-out.
“What happened, Wolf?” Tyler wanted to know.
“Shot. Lost a lot of blood,” Wolf answered shortly.
“Well, you’ll be all right now. We’ll take care of you, don’t you worry about that.”
“I wasn’t, Dan,” Wolf said softly, the decency of the man filling Wolf with a warmth that strengthened him. He was walking under his own power by the time he reached the cot in the back of the dugout.
Laura Placer was just five feet four. Beside Charlie Hanks she looked like a child still. Her black hair was short and curly, and as she looked up into Charlie’s face, he saw tears gleaming in the gray, slanted eyes. It astonished Charlie. Laura was a tough woman, part Indian and part German, who rode better than most men and was probably a better shot with a rifle than Annie Oakley.
They were standing outside by the corral. The moon was high overhead, as bright as a silver dollar, and he could see her face clearly.
“What is it, Laura. What’s wrong?”
“Weed,” she said. “It’s Weed. How long, Charlie? How long is going to stay with us?”
“Till he’s better, I reckon. Laura, I can’t just kick him out.”
She reached out and clasped him about the waist, resting her face against his hard chest. “I know that,” she said. “He’d kill you if you tried it.”
“That’s not it, Laura,” Charlie said, taking her by the shoulders and pushing her from him and looking into her face. “You saying I’m afraid of Weed?”
“Of course you are. You’d be a fool not to be. And you’re not a fool. It’s like we’re living in a cave with a rattlesnake—that might strike any minute. I hate him, Charlie. He makes me sick to my stomach. Every time I look at him and think of what he made me ...” She shuddered, and Charlie quickly pulled her close to him and hugged her.
She was right. He was afraid of Weed. He just hadn’t realized how upset Laura was at the man’s continued presence in their house. She had seemed to take caring for him in stride. But then he reminded himself of how seldom she had smiled since Weed set foot in their house—and how seldom she had been able to comfort him at night.
He groaned inwardly at his frustration. He had thought of murdering the man while he slept, but he could not get himself to do it. The thought appalled him. To kill a man in the course of a robbery, during the heat of a chase or of a violent disagreement; that was one thing. But to kill in cold blood a man that was sleeping peacefully under Charlie’s roof ...
No, Charlie Hanks was not a Weed Leeper.
“How are his wounds, Laura?” he asked.
“Better. He’ll always favor that leg, seems to me. But his right arm is almost completely healed. Didn’t you see him out here today—practicing with his six-gun?”
“I saw him. But he was sure limping.”
She nodded. “But the wounds have both healed cleanly.”
“So what’s keeping him here?”
“I wish I knew, Charlie. And I don’t dare ask him.”
“Me, neither.”
“And every time he looks at me with those burning eyes of his, and smiles ...” She shuddered involuntarily. “He’s like some animal that lives only in dark, unclean places ...”
She rested her head on his chest again and sobbed quietly. He patted the tight curls of her head and tried to think of something to say. And then, looking past her at the ranch house, he saw Weed’s figure suddenly loom in the open doorway, blocking out the bright yellow lantern light.
“Shhh!” he said softly. “He’s standing in the doorway now, watching us.”
Laura quickly quieted herself and stepped back from Charlie. She did not look toward the ranch house. Abruptly, Weed left the doorway and disappeared back into the house.
“Just keeping an eye on us,” commented Charlie.
This was not the first time that he and Laura had tried to use the money they had stolen to buy a place and go straight—maybe even raise children and become respectable. The first time—up in Powder Springs, Wyoming—things had gone sour when old buddies showed up and began to use their place as a hideout. Soon, Laura and he had been drawn into action—and that was the end of their cover.
He didn’t want that to happen this time. But with Weed coming by like this—possibly drawing that one-eyed bounty hunter after him—Charlie could see it all unraveling again. And then he had a thought.
“You need to get away from this guy—both of us do. It’ll give us a chance to think things out.”
&nb
sp; “But where can we go? He won’t let us out of his sight. He’s our jailer.”
“That house-raisin’ down the river—that new sodbuster, Tyler.”
“What about him?”
“Zeke Bannister rode by yesterday to invite us to it.”
“A house-raising?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“We’re supposed to be ranchers. We’ve got cattle. These people are already taking the best quarter sections along the river.”
“We was invited. No reason why we can’t be neighborly, is there? And it’s a perfect excuse to get away from Weed for a while. Wouldn’t you like that?”
“Do you think he’ll let us?”
“I’ve already told Zeke I’d be proud to join the settlers along the river in their house-raisin’ and so if I don’t go, they might get suspicious. At least, that’s what I’ll tell Weed. It won’t hurt to try.”
Laura smiled. “Yes,” she said. “Let’s do it. And maybe when we come back ... maybe he’ll be gone ...!”
“Sure, maybe he will.”
But as Charlie Hanks put his arm around Laura’s waist and started back across the yard to the ranch house, he realized that Laura’s hope was a wild one, at best. There was little likelihood that Weed Leeper would be gone when they got back. But it would give him and Laura a chance to work something out.
Weed Leeper sure as hell had worn out his welcome—not that he was ever extended one in the first place.
Nine
By the day of the cabin-raising, Dan Tyler had everything ready. With Wolf helping as much as his condition allowed—and he was getting stronger with each passing day—Dan and Bobby had succeeded in clearing away the brush from the site where they planned to build the homestead. In addition Dan and Bobby had cut the trees the proper length and hauled each one of them to the site, after which one side of each log had been hewed smooth with a broadax and fitted with huge notches at the end so they would join at the corners.
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