The Big Country

by Donald Hamilton

  Returning to the saddle and blanket up the slope, he sat down to eat the food that Ramon had supplied. Then he rose and went down to the horse, watered it, brought it back up the hill and saddled it, and fastened the saddlebags and blanket in place. Before mounting, he looked carefully around him at the shape of the horizon, then he took a piece of paper from his pocket and studied the map he had drawn, partly from his memory of the map on Julie Maragon’s bedroom wall and partly from Ramon’s information. The main co-ordinates to keep in mind, he told himself, were the river, running approximately north and south, and the stage road, running approximately east and west. As long as you remembered in which of the four quadrants you were located, you could hardly get lost. He took out a small pocket compass attached to his belt by a lanyard, opened the case, and, after orienting the crude map according to the magnetic needle, fixed upon a suitable landmark in the southerly direction he wanted to go.

  It was nearly noon when he reached the road. He turned east and soon found the river again, where he let the horse drink and finished the water in the bottle. It was a hot day. He refilled the bottle with river water, if an emergency should dictate its use, a little sediment wouldn’t matter. He had now completed half the circuit he had set himself, it remained only to see what he had come here to see and return up the east bank of the river to the ranch.

  Half an hour of riding brought him over a rise into a long, green valley where the road went through an open gate, into which was burned a cabalistic symbol resembling a Greek letter reversed. He produced his map, checked his position, and decided that he was looking at the Maragon Lazy M brand.

  He looked around. This, then, was the valley of Big Muddy Creek, desired by both Major Terrill and Rufus Hannesey. It seemed like a desirable place, at that, and deserving of a prettier name. He let the horse carry him forward into the shade of the big cottonwoods. They splashed through the creek and came out ff the bottom Within sight of the ranch house itself, a plain, low log building set on a small knoll. There was a pump just below the house. McKay rode up to this, dismounted, emptied the river water out of his bottle, and replaced it with water from the well.

  Belatedly he realized that the pump had not required priming, as would have been expected at a deserted house; in fact, the spout had been wet. He started to look around, but a single small sound that he recognized made him stand perfectly still. He had no trouble at all in identifying the sound of a rifle being cocked.

  A voice said grimly, “Just hold it right there, pilgrim- Why, it’s Mr. McKay!”

  He turned slowly to face Julie Maragon, who was standing by the corner of the house, above him, with a carbine in her hands. She was wearing a brown riding skirt of durable material, not new, and a crisp white waist similar to the one she had worn the last time he had seen her. Her head was bare and her dark hair was as uncompromisingly arranged as before, he noted, however, that the sunlight seemed to draw reddish glints from it. The sunlight also made her freckles more prominent.

  “I should have recognized you at once by the clothes, I guess,” she said, lowering the piece and coming down to him. She stopped, and used both hands to let the hammer to the half-cock position. “What are you doing here?” she demanded. Her voice was not friendly.

  “I apologize for trespassing,” he said. “To be frank, I wanted to look at this place after everything I’d heard

  about it, besides, it seemed likely there’d be a well. I’m. afraid I’m not man enough to drink your river water unless I have to.”

  She studied him briefly, and looked in the direction from which he had come, clearly puzzled. “Isn’t anybody with you? You’re surely not riding around all alone.”

  He grinned. “Miss Maragon, if you tell me this is a big country, I’m going to be very disappointed in you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He said, “I don’t think I’ve talked to a single native yet who hasn’t tried to impress me with what a big and dangerous country it is. Now, honestly, Miss Maragon, how’d you like it if you came on a sea voyage and I kept telling you what a big ocean we were sailing on, as if you didn’t have eyes in your head?” .

  Julie Maragon laughed. “Well, I guess we do use the phrase pretty often. But it is a big country, and I don’t know what the Terrills are thinking of, letting you wander around by yourself.”

  “Don’t blame the Terrills. I wasn’t aware that I needed official clearance to leave port. Pat laughed in my face the other day when I mentioned Indians, and to the best of my knowledge there are no wild animals to fear. With a map and compass it seemed safe enough to look around a bit.”

  The girl laughed again. “Well, at least you have a logical approach to the problem. You found your way here without help, then? lust to look around and" -she glanced at him. -“and fill your water bottle?”

  McKay said, “I’m not spying out the land for the Terrills, Miss Maragon. I’ll admit, however, that I came here for a purpose. While I trust Mr. Agnew’s Judgment of the a final attempt to buy it from you ”

  She smiled. “You’re a stubborn person, Mr. McKay. I’ve already told you-”

  He said, “Everything indicates that you’re going to have to sell to somebody pretty soon, either that or simply lose the place in a cloud of gunpowder smoke. You’ll admit, I think, that whoever wins the impending fight, it won’t be you."

  “You put it pretty bluntly,” she said.

  “You know it’s the truth,” McKay said. “So why not simply take my money and wash your hands of the business? You’ve done your best, whatever happens will be no fault of yours. You can salve your conscience, if you like, with the fact that I intend to run the Lazy M as an independent ranch, if I get it.” He made a little gesture. “I need this place very badly, Miss Maragon, for personal reasons. I don’t know why that should mean anything to you, since you hardly know me, but I throw it in for what it’s worth.”

  Julie Maragon hesitated. “Well, we don’t have to keep standing out here in the sun,” she said at last “Have you had anything to eat?”

  He laughed. “You seem to make a habit of offering me nourishment at the right moment. I had breakfast, and I’ve got some food left I was saving in case I didn’t make it back to the ranch this evening, but a little lunch would certainly taste very good.”

  She said, “I was just getting ready to sit down, there’s plenty for both of us. Just turn your horse loose in the corral with mine.” He looked in the direction she indicated and saw a pretty chestnut mare with four white feet standing in the enclosure. The girl laughed a little sadly. “The last head of stock bearing the Lazy M brand, Mr. McKay. ...Things should be about ready in the kitchen by the time you get there.”

  Entering the house a few minutes later, McKay found her at the stove. “The ham should cook just a minute longer,” she said without turning her head. “Since you’re here, take a look around. It’s not a mansion, but Gramps and I were always happy here.”

  He said, “Well, if you don’t mind-”

  “If I minded, I wouldn’t let you look.” Her voice was a little tart, and she did not look at him. When he returned to the kitchen, the meal was on the table and she was pouring the coffee. “Sit down,” she said. “No, over there, I’ve got to be near the stove. Well, do you think this, Will make an adequate home for your bride and you?

  “It’s a very pleasant place,” he said.

  She spoke without warmth. “You’re deceiving yourself, Mr. McKay. Or perhaps you’re hoping to deceive me. One or the other.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’ll never run the Lazy M as an independent ranch. Even if you can persuade Pat to move here-and I can tell you she considers this house only a little better than an adobe hut-you can’t possibly make a success of the cattle business here without assistance. How much do you know about cattle, Mr. McKay? I’m not saying you can’t learn, but while you’re learning, you’ll be needing help and advice, and where will you turn to get it? To your father-in
-law, of course. Yo matter how sincerely you may plan to operate an independent ranch, to outsiders it will inevitably look like a part of Ladder. And if it comes, to a fight, will you stay neutral? Not if I know Pat Terrill, and she was my best friend for years. Besides, if a fight starts, it will start right here. And when the Major and Steve Leech and the Ladder crew come storming to your rescue, as they undoubtedly will, I don’t think you’ll send them away. You can’t afford to. No, Mr. McKay, your assurances don’t salve my conscience at all, since I don’t believe them.”

  McKay said, a little stiffly, “I’ve stated my intentions, Miss Maragon. Whether I’m capable of carrying them out or not is another matter.”

  She glanced at him curiously across the table. “You’ve been having a tough time, haven’t you? I heard that you met Buck Hannesey on the road the other evening, and came out second best in the encounter. I don’t suppose you found Pat and the Major very enthusiastic about that performance, Mr. McKay They’ve always had the notion that a man should lick at least one grizzly bear each morning before breakfast bare-handed, of course.” She smiled slowly. “Is that the reason you’re riding around alone like this? And trying desperately to buy the Lazy M and planing to move away from Ladder and run your own outfit after you’re married-Not that I blame you. I owe Major Terrill a great deal, but I’d hate to have him for a father-in-law, particularly in the same house.” McKay did not say anything, but rose to fill their coffee cups. The girl watched him closely. When he was seated again, she said, “You move like you’d taken a real beating. I didn’t realize Buck was quite that rough on you.”

  McKay said, “Well, in addition to Mr. Hannesey, I had a little trouble with a horse.”

  “From the looks of you, the horse didn’t have much trouble with you... They didn’t put you on Old Thunder!”

  “I think that was the brute’s name.”

  "That sounds like Steve Leech's idea of a joke," she said. "He's got the frontier notion of humor, nothing's really funny unless somebody gets hurt.”

  “Mr. Leech contributed to the incident,” McKay admitted.

  "If I were you," Julie said, "I'd keep a sharp eye on that man. Most cowboys would figure that being foreman of a a big spread like Ladder put them just about as high as they could go in their line of work, but I wouldn't be surprised if Steve had set his sights even higher-"

  McKay said dryly, “Thank you, Miss Maragon, I already have a fairly clear picture of Mr. Leech’s aspirations.”

  The girl flushed slightly. “Don’t be unpleasant, Mr. McKay. I wasn’t saying a thing against Pat. I just thought it might help you to know that Steve Leech, for all his picturesque appearance, has the reputation of being cold as a snake and very fast with a gun."

  “I’ve already seen him in operation,” McKay said. “It was a rather pretty performance-for a murder.”

  Julie said coolly, “Oh, you mustn’t use that word. Mr. McKay. I’m sure Steve gave the other man an even break. In this country that’s not considered murder.” She hesitated, and asked, “Who was it?”

  “A little man called Brownie, related to the Hanneseys by marriage. I gather he had signed on at Ladder to act as a spy.”

  “And Steve shot him down?” The girl’s face was pale.

  “Then it's already started, Mr. McKay and I couldn’t in good conscience sell you this place even if I wanted to. It would be the same as selling you a lot in the graveyard." She rose. “I think I’ll wash the dishes and get back to town. I’d advise you to head right back to Ladder, and don't take up with any strange groups of riders on the way-, Whats that?” She stepped quickly to the corner and picked up her carbine. “Somebody’s coming.”

  “In a buggy,” McKay said, glancing out the window. He grinned. “A very subtle form of attack, Miss Maragon undoubtedly meant to throw us off guard. I think it’s your lawyer, Brockhurst, I don’t know the man with him.”

  They stood in the doorway watching the lawyer and his companion disembark from their vehicle and, make their way up the slope toward the house.

  Chapter 12

  REACHING THE TOP of the gentle slope, the lawyer stopped, panting. He began to cough, and drew out a white handkerchief to muffle the paroxysm. The other man waited near by, taking advantage of the opportunity to wipe his face and bald head with a crumpled red bandanna. This was a thin, bowed man with bony neck and wrists, in a shabby dark suit and run-over boots. Having once removed the worn hat from his head, he stood holding. it patiently in his hands as he waited.

  Brockhurst straightened up and put the handkerchief away. “Excuse me,” he said, and glanced curiously at McKay before turning to the girl. “Miss Maragon, this is Mr. Purley, from San Antonio.”

  The stranger shifted his feet uncomfortably, and gripped his hat tightly. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”

  “Mr. McKay, Mr. Purley,” the lawyer said.

  McKay held out his hand, and the other wiped his palm on his trousers before responding to the gesture. His grip was brief, almost furtive, and suddenly McKay recalled his his conversation with Major Terrill the previous morning. A certain gentleman from San Antonio, the Major had said. I am speaking to you as a member of the family, Jim.

  McKay drew a slow, deep breath, and said, “Well, I was just about to leave-” He left the sentence hanging, and turned. “Thank you for the hospitality, Miss Maragon. I’m sorry we couldn’t do business."

  Her eyes were steady on his face. He had forgotten their color, gray, he knew he would not forget again. She said, "Please stay a few minutes longer, Mr. McKay.”

  "But you'll want to talk to these gentleman in private"

  She said quietly, "My business with these gentlemen won't take long. I'd like you to stay, Mr. McKay."

  There was nothing for him to say except, "Very well. If you want me to."

  He stepped back, feeling trapped and helpless, as she turned to face the lawyer. "Mr. Purley is the gentleman" who's been writing about the ranch?”

  "Yes. He's interested in the place-aren't you," Mr. Purley? -and he's willing to meet our price. I brought him out knowing you were here, so that he could both look around and have a talk with you."

  "I see." Julie Maragon looked at the other man. whose bald head, still bare, looked White and naked in the sunlight in contrast with the veined and weathered redness of his face. “You’re a cattleman, Mr. Purley?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “From San Antonio?”

  “Yes, ma'am."

  “And you think, from What you’ve seen of it, that you’d like to buy my ranch?”

  “Why, yes, ma’am. I’d like it fine.”

  “You’ve got the money with you?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Doesn’t it make you nervous to carry all that money? Or do you big south Texas cattlemen have so much that a few thousand dollars more or less make no difference to you?”

  She did not Wait for the man to answer, but turned to Brockhurst. “What do you think?”

  “Well,” he said judiciously, “I think you'd do well to take it, my dear. You’re not going to get a better offer, unless you change your mind about dealing with local-”

  A curious thing happened, Julie Maragon stamped her foot, not hard, merely as if she had listened to enough foolish responses from ill-prepared pupils for one day. The small sound silenced Brockhurst instantly. Then for a period of time no one spoke. Gradually a little color came into the lawyer’s pale, cadaverous face, and his eyes lost courage and looked down.

  Julie Maragon said in a soft and gentle voice, “Michael Brockhurst-Attorney at Law! Where’d you find him, Mike? Sweeping out a San Antonio saloon? Couldn’t you at least buy him a new hat for his trouble?”

  “I don’t know What you’re-”

  She said, “I didn’t think you’d sell me out, Mike. I thought you might get careless and make some mistakes. I thought your law might be rusty in spots. I thought it possible you might even get drunk and talk too much. But I didn’t think
you’d deliberately sell me out.”

  “I don’t understand-”

  Her hands were tightly clenched at her sides, but her voice was still gentle. “Take him away, Mike. Now.”

  “But-"

  Her voice changed abruptly. “Get out of here, you fool, before I start shooting or crying! Don’t you see, I thought you were-a friend of mine, Mike Brockhurst. One of the few I had left. Now take this ventriloquist’s dummy back to Rufus Hannesey and tell him-”

  Brockhurst had started to turn away, now he swung back in a startled fashion. “Hannesey? Do you think I’d have dealings with Hannesey?”

  She drew a ragged breath. “It’s no use, Mike. Please go. I’ve known for two days what you were doing, ever since Buck Hannesey came to my house knowing precisely What-”

  “No!” the lawyer said explosively. “My dear Miss Maragon, I will not have you believing that of me!”

  She said, “Mike, you’re a drunken old reprobate. That stage cough of yours doesn’t fool a soul. I know perfectly well you came out here to drink yourself to death because you’d done something so crooked back cast that your home town wouldn’t have you. I don’t know why I thought you’d deal honestly With me-I guess I was just fooling myself, because I had nobody else to turn to when Judge Canning refused to help me any longer.” She shook her head quickly. “Please, Mike. Do you really think you can convince me that this broken-down drifter is a cattleman, and the money in his pocket is his own? I’ve known some pretty eccentric ranchers, my friend, but never any with boots like that! You’d better get the money back quickly to its rightful owners, if any of it should get lost they’ll undoubtedly take it out of your hide.”

  “Please listen to me, my dear,” the lawyer, sad. “It's true there was a little deceit, but I assure you it was for your own good. I would not have become a party to it otherwise."