the Proving Trail (1979)

by L'amour, Louis

  "Well, he had done something to someone. Isn't tha t why people are usually killed? In revenge? Or in punishment?"

  "Or because they have something," I said.

  "You told me he wasn't robbed."

  For a moment I did not reply, for what had bee n lingering in the back of my mind all the time suddenl y was there, right before me. Of course that was why h e was killed. Revenge or hatred might have had a par t in it, but there was more than that. He had been kille d because of something somebody wanted. As nothing ha d been taken that I knew of, it must have been something he did not have with him but something that belonged to him, and that meant property.

  Property? Land? But if Felix Yant had a plantatio n in Carolina, why would he be worried about what p a might have?

  I knew very little about such things. Only supposin g they were kin. Suppose that plantation belonged t o them both, and the only way Yant could have it al l was to kill pa? And then he discovered me, of who m he had not known?

  That was a lot of surmising, yet pa and Yant di d favor each other. I'd mistaken Yant for pa, and the y had mannerisms alike, and what was Yant doing ou t here, anyway?

  "He wasn't robbed of anything he had on him," I s aid. "Maybe somebody was trying to rob him of something he owned. If that was true, then I own it no w ... whatever it is."

  "If your pa owned something that valuable, he'd be tending to it, not running around over the countr y letting his boy grow up every which way."

  She was quiet for a few minutes and so was I. Sh e seemed like a totally different girl, somehow. Had sh e always been that way, or was this something Yant ha d done to her?

  "If I were you," she said, "and I thought I owne d anything, I would find out what it was and claim it.

  Your pa, now, if he owned anything he would hav e some record of it, or he would have told you."

  "He may have planned on telling me. Then he wa s killed."

  "He must have told you ' something. If you tried , you could remember."

  My coffee was cold. So was the night. I got up suddenly. "See you tomorrow," I said.

  She started to turn away, then she looked back.

  "Kearney? I think you're angry with me."

  "No, I ain't. Why should I be? You've done nothing."

  "Mr. Yant likes you. He really does. He says yo u deserve a better future than this, and I think he woul d help you if you could just remember."

  "Remember what?"

  "Well, he said he thought maybe your pa had com e from a good family, and that somewhere he'd had som e records or something. If you could find those, yo u could be somebody yourself. He said he was sure yo u knew, although you might not think you did."

  That, at least, was probably the truth. He wante d me to find those records. Maybe he was afraid that i f something happened to me, those records would sho w up. It was then I thought back to Pistol. We'd alway s called ourselves brothers, but actually we weren't blood kin. Somewhere along the line Pistol just took o n with us, and pa raised him along with me, only Pisto l was older than me and before long he took off on hi s own.

  Pistol, being older than me, might know something , but the last I heard Pistol was out California way. He taken his name from his skill, for he was a natura l with any kind of shooting iron. He was almighty quic k and he was steady, and that was how come he left us.

  We'd been in Missouri at the time, and pa was dow n sick . . . pneumonia, I think it was. Pneumonia was a real killer them days, and pa was in bad shape. A w oman there was caring for him ... name of Kat e Donelson.

  Pistol an' me, we were just sort of waitin' around.

  My age was about ten, if I recall, an' Pistol was closing in on sixteen. Then these two men came to town.

  I recall them clear. They were tall, straight me n who never smiled ... not at least when I seen them.

  They wore black coats like the one pa had when h e was shot, and like the one Felix Yant wore. I gues s they were the style down south or back east or wherever.

  Mostly out west it was gamblers or lawyers who wor e them, and often doctors.

  These two men came to town, and I heard the m inquiring for pa. The man at the livery stable, he tol d them he didn't know such a man, and he lied becaus e he was friendly with pa. I started to tell them, bu t something in that livery man's face made me shut up.

  I walked away and seen Pistol and told him. He asked me where they were an' I told him. Well, h e taken a look and said we should get on home. Whe n we got there, he went inside and buckled on his sixs hooter. Now like I say, Pistol was almighty hand y with one of them short guns but he never wore one i n town ... only on the trail. Pa had asked him not to.

  Me, I said as much this time, an' Pistol said, "Pa won't mind this time. Kearney. He surely won't. Yo u see those men coming, you tell me and then you get inside, and do it quick."

  Small town like that, there's always somebody wh o talks too much, an' somebody did. We was settin' on th e porch ... I'd just brought Pistol a cup of coffee as h e wouldn't leave those steps, not no way.

  We seen ... saw ... them coming down the pike an'

  I says, "It's them!" He puts down his coffee and says , "You get inside and stay away back. This here's trouble."

  "Trouble? Why?"

  "Those men are huntin' your pa to kill him. I got t o stop them."

  Well, I'd been taught long ago not to argue whe n told to move and I done it. I moved inside and I wen t back to pa's bed and lifted one of his pistols from th e holster. He opened his eyes and looked at me.

  "What's the trouble, boy?" he asked, his voice wea k and sick-sounding.

  "Nothing we can't handle," I said, and went back t o the door, then to the window. That window was open , and from beside it I could see those men. They looke d at the house, at Pistol, and then they started for th e steps, and Pistol says, "You lookin' for somebody?"

  "It's nothing to you, boy. Get out of the way."

  He ,stood up. "You just back off there," he says , quiet-like. "We ain't havin' visitors today. There's a sick man in there."

  "Don't worry about that," the biggest one said. "He won't be sick much longer. We're doctors, boy, an' w e got the cure."

  "He's got him a doctor," Pistol said, and then h e added, very quiet, "I ain't never killed a man yet, s o don't you boys insist."

  Well, they taken a look at him then. They'd bee n figuring him for some wet-nosed kid, and he stoo d there looking back at them and all of a sudden thei r manner changed.

  "You never killed a man, boy? Well, we have. We'v e both killed our man, an' more than one. We'd as soo n make it another if you don't move, and now."

  Suddenly he laughed. He laughed right out loud an d that surprised them. It was a real surprise because hi s laugh threw them off just enough and he went for hi s gun. It was only an edge and a mighty slight one, bu t Pistol was fast and he was sure.

  He put two bullets into that big man fasten yo u could wink, and then he shot the other one just a s his gun came into action. Pistol taken a bullet throug h the side of his shirt, but that second man was alread y down.

  I ran out on the porch, and Pistol turned on me.

  "You're hurt!" I said.

  "No, I ain't, but the law here don't like me muc h and I'm leaving. You tell pa to get well. He's the be s