She knocked once more. Soon footsteps sounded inside the house and came to a halt just behind the door. Still the door remained closed, and she was going to knock again when the door opened and Helen Young stood there, her head up, her shoulders back and a strange, opaque shield over his eyes.
"Yes?" she inquired in a tone normally reserved for a tramp, a cowpoke, or an Indian begger.
"I'm Mrs. Grievy—Addie Grievy," Addie began.
"I'm quite aware who you are."
"I had hoped we might be friends," Addie said lamely.
"Don't you think that is presumptuous on your part?" Helen asked. "It is unfortunate my own daughter sees fit to spend time in your place. When her eyes are opened—"
Addie felt her anger rising.
"Are you so confident about your judgment of people? I know that Alonzo Finch has been coming down here this week," Addie said, keeping her voice low. She saw a strange, defensive look come into Helen's eyes at the mention of Finch.
"Mr. Finch is a gentleman," Helen said, and added pointedly, "He comes to see Norah."
"So I assumed. Alonzo is no fool. Gentleman he may be on the surface, but if you knew men like I know them, you'd realize there's a skunk odor about him."
"Why—why, you insulting person!"
"What makes you feel so pure and superior, Mrs. Young?" Addie asked with more pity than anger. "This is the West—not Kansas City or St. Louis. If I had a daughter like Norah, Finch is the last man I'd want her interested in."
"I think I can handle my own affairs," Helen said. "I suppose you'd rather I'd encourage that new man, Paul Scott, or are you after him yourself?"
"I think Norah would be a very lucky girl to get a man like Paul Scott. But don't fret. He won't be here very long. I came here to give him a warning."
"Against me, I suppose," Helen snapped.
"Don't be so touchy," Addie said.
"I don't relish being insulted at my own door. I keep no rein on Paul Scott, and I don't know where he is."
"May I talk with Norah, then?"
"Norah has gone riding with Mr. Finch. I'd rather you didn't come here any more. I have my pride."
Addie closed her eyes and clenched her fists. This stuffy, proud woman dared insult her, and she could not strike back. How could one pierce such a garment of self-righteousness? Addie turned away, ashamed and angered, and then a voice startled her.
"What's the matter, Addie?" Paul asked, swinging around the corner of the house.
Helen slammed the door and disappeared.
"She—insulted me. I—"
Paul, hearing the hurt in Addie's voice, put a kindly arm about her shoulder, and led her into the deep shadows of the orchard.
"It's all right, Addie. Helen Young is harming only herself."
"She'll get in trouble mixing up with Finch," Addie said.
"I've tried to tell Norah, but her mother is urging her to see Finch. If he harms that girl, I'll kill him," he threatened.
"Then how will you clear yourself back home?" she reminded him. "You need Finch alive."
Paul scratched his head. "I reckon I didn't think about that. I'll just have to watch him, I guess. If Norah is in love with him—"
"Don't be a fool, Paul. Norah is falling in love, but not with Alonzo Finch."
Paul was silent.
"Wake up, Paul. She's falling in love with you."
"You're wrong, Addie," he said. "She avoids me."
"Of course; she's a woman. You can't expect her to throw herself at you."
"You mean if a woman loves a man, she avoids him?"
"She hopes he'll run after her."
Paul shook his head. "Sounds mixed up to me."
"Take my word for it. I know. I'm a woman."
Mentally Paul agreed with that. Addie was a woman clear through, a handsome, uncomplicated woman. It was her forthrightness that attracted him.
"Okay. Even if Norah wanted me to court her, I wouldn't have the right," he said.
"You mean there's a girl—another girl?"
"No, I'm free that way, but there's a cloud on my past, a cloud that only Finch can clear up. I may not get him to do it, but I'm going to try. When the warrant comes, if the marshal will deputize me, I aim to take Finch back in handcuffs if necessary. Why should Norah be dragged through all that trouble?"
"If she loves you, it won't be trouble to her," Addie said, her eyes on the ground.
"Why should you tell me all this, Addie?"
"I'm not sure, Paul. Maybe I'm just punishing myself. I know how Norah feels, because I like you a lot myself," Addie said lamely. "If I thought there was any chance—"
"Addie, all I can tell you is what I said before. Right now I'm not a man for any woman to get mixed up with. You didn't come here to tell me all this. Why did you come?"
"I really came to warn you, Paul."
"Warn me?"
"There's a plot on foot to get you out of the way, either dead or alive. I've heard talk around the Lone Chance. I've pieced things together."
"And what did you get?"
"There's a lot of liquor being bought that isn't drunk in the Lone Chance, Paul. There are other shipments coming into the railroad camp. There's been liquor turning up in the Indian village, and that's illegal. Liquor and Indians don't mix."
"That's a job for the army." Paul shrugged. "I can't do anything about it."
"I know it's a job for the army, and Hornaby will try to stop it. It won't be easy. I've heard that he can't even keep liquor off the post. Just this morning a sentry was asleep on duty. He was drunk. Hornaby threatened to make an example of him."
"Of course he's got to discipline the man, but he can't be too tough on him."
"He might let the man off easier if the smuggler were caught. He could make an example of the smuggler instead," Addie said.
"There isn't a war on."
"Hornaby's given orders that anybody seen trying to enter the camp without permission is to be shot on sight."
Paul whistled softy. Honraby had impressed him as being vain, but he did not think he was a fool.
"Why are you telling me all this, Addie?"
"Because I'm afraid they've picked you as the smuggler."
"Me? That's crazy."
"Maybe it is, and maybe it isn't," Addie said. "I came to tell you not to be seen around the camp after dark."
"Look, Addie, don't fret yourself. I'm not likely to go to the post after dark. I know no one there but Sergeant McCune."
"Even if you're called for any reason, refuse to go," Addie warned him. "Those troopers, Miles and Stebbins, are still unhappy."
"They'll not lure me to the post."
Addie looked up, and their eyes met. Even in the dusk, her eyes were bright and probing. Paul returned her look, and because of her intensity, he put an arm about her and drew her close, feeling her tremble. Before he released her, she reached up, drew down his head and kissed him on the mouth. Then she hurried away like a woman who had let a man look into her heart.
Paul heard Addie ride away. She had left him with a feeling of sadness, for she had revealed herself as woman unfulfilled and searching. Paul shook his head slowly, knowing he could not help her.
Absorbed in his thoughts, he failed to hear the light footsteps until Norah stood before him. He looked at her in surprise, as though she had materialized out of thin air. He restrained an impulse to put his arms about her. The way she stood there some distance from him, he knew that something was wrong.
Because the silence was awkward, he hazarded, "Where have you been, Norah?"
"Riding," she said shortly.
There was a challenge in the angle of her chin, and he wanted to reach out and straighten her head.
"Alone?" he asked her, as stingy with words as she was.
"No. I was with Alonzo."
"After all I told you about him?"
"Let's just say he's done nothing to prove your charges."
"I hope he never does, Norah."
>
"Why should you be concerned? You have Addie— Alonzo has warned her against you. He warned me, too. He told me some dreadful things. He dares you to deny them."
"Do you believe what he told you?"
"I don't know. What was Addie doing here? I saw you kiss her," Norah said, trying hard to control her voice. "I was in back of those bushes outside the gate."
"Do you know why Addie came?"
"I could guess. I saw her in your arms."
"You could be wrong, you know," Paul said. "Addie came to warm me."
"Warn you?"
"It appears I'm to be the victim of a trap," Paul explained.
For a moment there was silence, and he knew the girl was struggling with a problem.
"I think Addie made that up, Paul, to have an excuse to come and see you. It worked very well, didn't it?"
"Suppose she's telling the truth? Do you think I should ignore her warning?"
A new, deeper note came into Norah's voice. "No, Paul, of course not. If anything more happened to you—"
"Yes?"
"I'd feel awful."
"I'm glad to hear that, Norah. But you'd still have Finch."
"Yes," she said slowly, lowering her eyes, "yes, I'd still have Alonzo, wouldn't I?" Her tone was mocking.
Paul felt worry dog him. "What did Alonzo tell you about me, Norah?"
She kept her eyes lowered. "I know they were lies, the things he said."
"Like what?" Paul insisted.
"Well, he said you came from a family of crooks. He said one of your brothers was lynched for murder and the other one was run out of town. He said you stole a lot of money and ruined a man's life and that's why you're running away." She spoke the charges so swiftly the words ran together.
She was only a blur in the light now, and could not see his face. For this, Paul was glad. He knew his face was white, his eyes sharp and hateful. He mulled over ways of defending himself, of watering down the charges, so that they did not seem so blunt. Unconsciously he took a step toward her.
Before the step was completed, a rifle shot ripped open the night! Paul felt his hat jerked from his head. The whine of a bullet screamed and stopped as the bullet clawed its way into the trunk of a tree. Paul fell forward, dragging the girl down with him.
There was a faint sound of bushes rattling. Still Paul didn't move. He and the girl would be fair targets if they were on their feet. Then a sound came from some distance, a sound of feet running.
Paul leaped up without a word and vaulted the fence. He lost his footing as his high heels hit the earth, and he cursed. For another instant he stood, crouched, then heard a crashing in the brush to his right. He plunged that way, no longer trying to keep hidden. Whoever had shot at him was now panicked by failure and thought only of escape. Paul lunged on into the thickets of rabbit brush and greasewood, trying to get a glimpse of his assailant, but the brush was too tall.
He ran into a rough section of rocks and felt his leg double under him. He cursed aloud. He had twisted his ankle, but he could still navigate. He went on unsteadily and came into an open space, where a movement ahead of him caught his eye, a high dark shadow. He tried to find the outline of a man in in it, but he could not. Then it dawned on him. It was a horse!
He followed the animal, thinking there might be a man nearby. The horse evidently belonged to his assailant, who was undoubtedly afraid to mount for fear of being seen above the brush.
The trail led in the general direction of the Lone Chance. Whoever had plotted to kill him must have come from there. Paul decided to head for the Lone Chance when he suddenly discovered he had lost his gun. Furious at himself for his carelessness, he tried to think where it could be. The most logical place to search would be the rocky place where he had turned his ankle. For a moment he thought of going on without a gun, but an inner voice of caution warned him to go back and get it. Panting, he hurried back along the trail, hopeful he could find the spot where he had fallen. Luckily, his sense of direction served him well, and he soon reached the rocks. Even then it took some time to locate his revolver.
Armed once more, he turned and headed toward the Lone Chance. If his pursuer had taken refuge there, he would already have arrived. There was little need to wind himself. He changed course and made an attempt to capture the roaming horse. To his surprise, the animal stood stone still, listening to Paul's low, soothing words.
Paul mounted. He knew this cayuse; it was one he had seen Finch ride. However, that proved little. It was one of Addie's horses which she rented out. In fact he had seen Addie herself riding the animal. Because conjecture was fruitless, he cleared his mind and rode toward the Lone Chance at a brisk trot.
Still cautious, he dismounted some distance from the Lone Chance and approached the back of the building on foot. His attacker, his panic having subsided now that he had cover, might still try to complete his job. Paul stopped by the stable in back of the saloon and studied the big building. He circled until he was near the wall and crept toward the front porch. He vaulted up and headed for the door.
Cautiously, he approached the bright rectangle of light that fell from the open doorway. Feeling of his gun, he stepped inside, where his eyes picked out three or four miners bellying up to the bar and discarded them. The miners had no quarrel with him, and men who labored hard for a living did not accept Judas money. He did not see Addie, and he was glad, because this was his job and he wanted no interference. Across the room, Alonzo Finch had his attention fixed upon a card game, and Paul decided it was a good place to start.
Finch didn't see him until Paul reached the table. Finch looked up with unconcealed surprise that congealed into naked malice. If eyes could kill, Paul would have been a dead man. He realized then how difficult would be the job of ever taking Finch back to Oklahoma. Even as he thought that, Paul was studying the men about the table, none of whom showed any signs of having been on a recent chase.
Paul asked bluntly, "Did anyone see a man dodge in here just now?"
Finch resumed the cynical, mocking manner he wore so well.
"You are about the busiest man I ever did see, Paul," Alonzo said evenly. "Where's your hat? How come you're puffing like a leaky tea kettle?"
Conscious of the amused glances of the other card players, Paul said grimly, "Somebody tried to kill me tonight. I trailed him this way."
"Now who would want to do a thing like that?" Finch jeered.
"Maybe you can say?" Paul countered.
"Paul, you're developing a persecution complex. I suppose somebody witnessed the try?"
"That's right. Norah. She was lucky she didn't stop the slug."
Paul saw the tightening in Finch's face, and knew he had struck close to home.
"I warned her against you," Finch said honestly. "If she gets hurt because of you—"
"That's something I'd like to settle with you later," Paul said. "She'll not get hurt unless somebody else hurts her. And I'll kill the man who does. Now I want to know, did a man come in here just before me?"
"Ask the others," Finch suggested, turning his attention to his cards.
Paul looked inquiringly around the table, but the only answer was shaking heads. Then he remembered the balcony above the front porch. An active man could easily shinny up to the balcony and enter the second floor through one of the windows. Aware of Finch's furtive look, Paul turned toward the stairs and started up into the dimness above.
Chapter 5
Paul reached the upstairs hall and stood quietly in the shadows until his eyes adjusted themselves to the faint light filtered up from below. Slowly he pushed himself away from the wall, his eyes busy in the gloom. He made out the rectangular outlines of three doors on either side of the corridor. Soundlessly he approached the first door and paused. He heard a man's low voice, and a girl's answering laugh. He turned away.
The next room across the hall was dark, with the door slightly ajar. Quietly he entered, cursing the squeak of a hinge. His hand explored the bed and fo
und it empty. There was a hazy thread of light under the next door, and he raised his knuckles hesitantly and knocked. There was the swish of clothing inside, and when the door opened, a girl, dressed in a bright silk kimono, was silhouetted against the light.
"I'm looking for a man," Paul said.
"So am I," she countered challengingly.
"Did you hear anybody come up here in the past fifteen minutes?" Paul questioned insistently.
"I don't pay no attention to who comes or goes."
"Maybe on the balcony, you could have heard him. Your room faces on the balcony, doesn't it?"
"So what?"
"I'm just asking a question. A man tried to kill me. I want to know why."
"I don't know anything about anybody, and if I did, why should I tell you?"
Paul backed away, angered and puzzled by the girl's animosity. He moved on to the last door down the hall, put his ear to the panel and made out heavy breathing.
Unfolding his stock knife, Paul forced the long blade under the door stop and pried it away from the jamb. Then he pushed the blade in through the crack of the door and slid the bolt of the lock back. Standing to one side, he swung the door open. The window leading out on the balcony was still raised, and enough light entered the room to reveal the outlines of a big man under the cover.
Paul, easing his gun around, approached the bed. He stood over the prone figure. Slipping his hand under the cover, he felt the man's clothing, still damp with sweat. He felt a bulge in the pocket of the shirt. It was a purse, which he took out and slipped into his own pocket. This was his man. Still the prostrate form made no protest. Paul moved to the commode and, striking a match, lit the candle that stood there. Then he turned to the bed and looked down on Big-head Larson's shaggy head.
Twining his hand in Larson's hair, Paul lifted the big head and slammed it back on the pillow. Even as he did so, his mind swiftly went back to that night a week ago when Big-head had shot the spots off the six of hearts.
"What yuh want?" Big-head growled in his barrel chest. "Can't a man get no sleep around here?"
"Get up, Larson!" Paul said harshly.
"Go 'way. I ain't got nuthin' for you."
Twisted Trails Page 5