‘I take you to her,’ Oaks said, ‘you pay me fifty dollars on the spot. Then I clear out. I don’t have nothin’ more to do with this.’
‘It’s a bargain,’ Blessed said. ‘How far away is she?’
‘Two-three days a-horseback,’ Oaks said.
‘We start tomorrow,’ Blessed said.
‘Suits me,’ said Oaks and rose.
When he had gone, Hurley was smiling coldly.
‘I do really think we shall pull it off this time, ‘ he said. ‘But that man Oaks could mean trouble for us.’
Blessed said: ‘You should know me better than that, Lin. He’ll give us no trouble, I assure you. None of them will give us trouble. I don’t intend to play this by gentleman’s rules.’
‘I should hope not,’ Hurley said and they took another drink together.
Chapter Thirteen
When the crew and the girl reached the house, they were all pretty tired. The house had not been lived in for six months and it looked like it. Everything was covered inside with a thick layer of dust. There were signs that men had been here, but no damage had been done. They thought that most likely some hide-hunters had camped there. It was the end of the day when they arrived and nobody felt like tidying the place, so they assigned the girl to Will and Martha Storm’s room and bedded down themselves where best they could. They had dropped the Quintin brothers off at their home place some miles back, so there was just Clay, Jody, George and the Mora cousins. The Moras would be going on to their own place in the south on the following day. They all slept like logs that night.
Clay was the first to awake in the morning and he and George prepared breakfast between them. They were halfway through the meal when Sarah appeared.
There was, Clay could see, a marked change in her appearance. He had known her only on the trail, but now she was in a house where there were mirrors available. Her hair was dressed in a sophisticated manner and was up on the top of her head. The result was startling. The wildness seemed to have gone out of her. Now she was a cultivated and mature woman. The simple gingham dress could not hide the fact. None of the men there could have stopped themselves from getting to their feet when she came into the room, any more than she could have failed to be aware of the effect she had on them. Juan Mora brought her a chair, George raced Jody to fetch her breakfast, Clay stood staring at her helplessly.
She smiled down the length of the table at him.
‘I should have been up to prepare breakfast for you,’ she said with a smile, ‘but I found a mirror and vanity won.’
Jody said with a lopsided grin and appreciation in his hot eyes: ‘I’m sure glad it won, Sarah.’
She dimpled at him and Clay hated Jody for a moment.
They all lingered over breakfast, then it was time for the Moras to get on their way. They all went outside while the two Mexicans caught up their horses and saddled, then there were handshakes all around and the two boys mounted.
‘See you in a coupla weeks,’ Juan said.
Clay asked; ‘You both decided to come to Colorado with us?’
‘Sure,’ Pepe said, ‘we wouldn’t miss it for the world.’
They turned and rode off.
Clay had been used to the presence of a full crew for so long that suddenly the place seemed lonely and deserted.
‘We’ll rest up for a day or two,’ Clay said. ‘Then we get to work. First we have to see if we can find a buyer for this place.’
It was only when the two younger brothers were fooling around with the horses in the corral and they were alone that Sarah said: ‘And what about me, Clay?’
‘I reckon you’re safe now, Sarah,’ he told her.
‘I can’t ever be sure of that,’ she said. ‘Not while Lewis Blessed and my cousin are alive.’
He still couldn’t believe that they could mean to kill her. It was outside his experience that men could want to kill a woman.
He asked the question that had been on his mind so long.
‘Why do they want you dead?’
She went pale and didn’t look at him. They were on the stoop in the shade and could hear the voices of Jody and George in the corral. She sat in his mother’s rocker, rocking ever so slightly. He sat on the steps looking up at her.
‘Could you believe in me without knowing why?’ she asked in a low voice.
‘It don’t make it easy,’ he said. ‘But I reckon I can.’
He wouldn’t ask again, he decided. He would wait until she was ready to tell him of her own free will.
They spent two days doing almost nothing, lounging around, talking and sleeping. Clay enjoyed her company. As the hours passed, the anxiety that seemed to have been with her for so long slipped away and she joked and laughed with the others. She cooked them good meals and Jody said that one of them would have to marry her to keep her cooking in the family.
She laughed at that and said nobody had asked her.
Jody said: ‘I’m askin’ you now, Sarah.’
She blushed and laughed at him and Jody said: ‘I’m serious, Sarah. Wa-al, almost serious.’
The following day, Clay saddled a horse and rode to town to try and find a buyer. First of all he called on the owner of the local bank, an old friend of his father, and asked his advice. The banker told him that only last week a big rancher had been in and spoken to him of acquiring more land. Let Clay leave it with him. He’d speak to the man. Clay bought a few supplies and headed back for home. He called at the Quintin place and paid Mike Quintin the money he had obtained by selling some of Mike’s cows in Kansas. He stayed for the noon meal and then headed for home.
As he rode in, Sarah came to the door to greet him. Her face was flushed from the heat of the stove and she looked a picture of beautiful domesticity. He stepped down from the saddle and greeted her. She was smiling.
Then he was struck by the absence of the others.
‘Where’re the boys?’ he asked.
‘Jody’s in the barn mending gear,’ she told him. ‘George went off.’
He didn’t like the sound of that. He didn’t like her being left without adequate protection. Which was strange, he told himself, for only so short a while before he had declared that she should be safe now. He knew that in his heart he didn’t believe it. He decided to enjoy the moment as he found it, for he had a feeling that Sarah had some transient quality about her. He couldn’t believe that she would be with him for long.
Then it dawned on him that he wanted her to go on being with him. She had ridden with him for weeks on the trail; he had become used to her being there. But was his wanting her nothing more than use? He followed her into the house, after he had put up his horse, and found her in the kitchen stirring a pot of delicious-smelling stew. She turned to look at him briefly as he came in, then turned her attention to her cooking.
As her head bent over the stove her curving neck was exposed defenselessly to him. As he stood watching her, a great tenderness for her welled up in him. In that moment, he didn’t care if she had lied to him or not; he knew that she needed him. She might not treat him seriously as a man, but she relied on him. And he knew that it wasn’t in him to refuse her help. If she wanted to come to Colorado with him, he’d take her. No strings. Pa would want to know what the hell he was playing at, but he didn’t care. Pa had put him in charge and he reckoned he was old enough to make his own decisions.
‘Sarah,’ he said. She turned her head.
He saw complete trust in her eyes and the sight made him helpless. No woman could have acted a look of that kind.
‘You’re a mighty beautiful woman,’ he said. ‘But I reckon you’ve been told that before.’
She nodded and said: ‘Yes, I have. But I don’t think I was ever told more sincerely.’
‘I reckon I’m just a clumsy hick to you.’
‘If you mean do I think of you as a cattleman,’ she said directly, ‘yes, I do. Is there anything wrong in that? You have a note of self-pity in your voice that I don’t adm
ire.’
He was abashed before her scorn. But he was an honest man and he knew he deserved it. If you wanted to get anywhere with a woman, that was the wrong note.
Did he want to get anywhere with Sarah? he asked himself. And he knew the answer. He wanted her totally. But he knew it wasn’t going to be that easy. This was important to him and he had to play his cards right or he could get this thing off to the wrong start. Sure, he could try to make love to her and maybe she would respond. But he wanted something more than that. He wanted more than a passionate response from this woman and he wanted her to think in other terms than having him for a lover. She had to want him for her man. Forever. Above all other men. So he had to hit the right note from the start. He instinctively felt humble before her. He asked himself when this had begun. Somewhere back on the trail. Certainly he didn’t feel like this when he had gotten her away from the Indians. He must see her as he saw her at first. Subtly, she had changed their roles over. He was about to blurt out his feelings for her, but now he held back. The right time would come. The right time when she would have no emotional alternative but to turn to him and rely on him.
‘That smells real good,’ he said, sniffing the air and not going near her as his instincts bade him.
She ignored the remark.
‘I’ve been presumptive,’ she said. ‘I know that. I’ve made a claim on you that I’ve no right to.’
He changed his mind and went to her. He put a hard hand on her shoulder.
‘Girl,’ he said, ‘rights don’t come into it. I ain’t too sure what’s goin’ on, but I reckon we’ll see it through to the end.’
‘I want you to know I’m grateful.’
‘You said that before,’ he told her. He wanted to stoop and kiss her, but he did not. He touched her gently on the cheek and said: ‘No obligations. We’ll see you safe to Colorado, then you can make your decisions.’
One small hand clutched at his arm.
‘I have a terrible feeling,’ she said. ‘That I shall never get there.’
‘You’ll get there,’ he promised.
‘It’s funny,’ she said. ‘When you say it, I almost believe you.’
Jody came into the house, banging and slamming around. She sighed and laughed, returned to her cooking.
A day dragged by with nothing happening. Then on the following day, a buggy pulled off the trail with two men in it. Sitting beside the driver was a man Clay knew at a distance. A big man - J. T. Bickerstaff.
He was physically small, a bristling peppery terrier of a man. Yet men, exaggerating slightly, said he owned half Texas. Clay was surprised to see him. He thought men like that worked through agents and he guessed right off that he had come here to make an offer for the land.
Bickerstaff leapt nimbly down from the buggy, sprightly for all his sixty years and snow-white hair.
Clay advanced across the yard from the barn to greet him. Bickerstaff ignored the greeting and said: ‘I’m looking for Will Storm.’
‘He ain’t here,’ Clay said.
Jody and George appeared and stared.
‘When’re you expectin’ him?’
‘Never.’
‘Is he dead?’
‘No, sir, he’s in Colorado.’
If the big rancher was taken aback by the curt replies he received, he didn’t give a sign. He sniffed and said: ‘Who has power to sell this place?’
‘I have,’ said Clay.
‘Can you prove it?’
‘I have the papers.’
‘Good. We’ll dicker.’
The man in the buggy said: ‘Shall I unhitch, Mr. Bickerstaff?’
‘No,’ said the little man. ‘Ain’t worth it. We’ll settle this in no time at all.’
Clay led the way to the stoop and Bickerstaff established himself as if by right in the rocker. He reached out a cigar, fired it and puffed. They offered him a drink.
‘What kind of a drink?’ he snapped.
‘Lemonade.’
He snorted in disgust, then said: ‘All right.’ George went into the house and came back with lemonade and glasses. Clay wondered if the girl would appear, but she did not and he was relieved. Her absence would prevent talk and the less of that the better. The dickering started.
An hour passed. Old Bickerstaff grew impatient with the obstinate young man facing him. Jody and George sat around wisely keeping their mouths shut. The old man worked his way through his patience and finally said: ‘It seems you don’t want a sale, young man.’
Clay said: ‘Not overly, Mr. Bickerstaff, sir.’
The old man looked suspicious. He raised a white eyebrow.
‘You have another offer?’ he demanded.
‘Let’s say, I ain’t worried,’ Clay said.
‘Who is it?’ snapped Bickerstaff.
‘I gave my word,’ said Clay.
Bickerstaff said: ‘You’re conning me, boy.’
‘You’re free to think what you want, sir,’ Clay said at his most polite.
Bickerstaff upped his offer one hundred dollars and said: ‘That’s my final offer.’
Clay ran over his part of the bargain again - he would take another two thousand head from the range, all ages and Bickerstaff would have the range and the residue.
‘And I expect fair dealings from Will Storm’s son,’ the old man told him.
‘You’ll get it, sir,’ said Clay
‘That mean it’s a deal?’
‘That’s what it means.’
The old man got to his feet and held out his hand. They shook.
He said: ‘Send me word when you have the cows gathered. Then I’ll send the money.’
Clay agreed. The old man bid them good day and walked to the buggy. Without a word or a wave, he drove away.
Clay said: ‘That’s one problem solved. Soon as the boys git back, we’ll hunt cows. We’ll have to find some more hands.’
He walked into the house to tell Sarah the news. The first thing she said was: ‘How soon will we head for Colorado?’
‘When the spring grass is up.’
‘That could be too long,’ she said.
The remark stayed with Clay. He knew that it was impossible to move a herd before the spring. The grass wouldn’t be there; any kind of weather could be met. No, there was nothing he could do about it. The old man was relying on him. Then he felt guilty for maybe risking a girl’s life for the sake of a few cows. But, no, he couldn’t really believe that she was in danger now.
That evening after dark, he walked to the hilltop where his father used to go to do his thinking. He thought about the girl. Could he be in love with her and still have doubts about her? Was love blind as the man said? He stayed there an hour or more and when he walked back to the house he hadn’t gotten himself any further.
George was sitting on the stoop. Clay sank down beside him.
‘You goin’ to marry Sarah?’ he said.
‘Whatever put an idea like that in your head?’ Clay asked.
‘Wa-al, I’d sure like to keep her in the family,’ George said.
Chapter Fourteen
Oaks led the way down the trail. Witney followed and Lewis Blessed brought up the rear. Oaks was riding with extreme caution, for they were now on Storm range. The last thing he wanted to happen was for him to come face to face with a Storm or one of their crew. He kept to the back-trails, widely circling the house. His guess was that, if the Storms were aiming to hunt cows, they wouldn’t be doing it yet awhile. Just the same, he was nervous. Clay had shown him an impetuosity that bordered on recklessness when he had planned the running off of the Indians’ horse herd. A man that could order a thing like that was capable of anything. Besides, he was stuck on that girl and a man feeling the way he did wasn’t accountable for his actions. Oaks was no coward, but he didn’t like the idea of risking his hide in the service of a dude like the one riding behind. He was being paid to guide him to the Storm place. Once that was accomplished, he would light a shuck and keep well clear
of the whole damned family.
They broke from the thick brush and came out on a vast expanse that was covered with thickets that were no higher than a horse. That made a rider visible at a great distance, but there was no avoiding such open country if they were to reach the spot from which Blessed could view the house. That was the bargain. He rode with a chin on either shoulder, searching the country with his eyes. However, that was little comfort to him, for he knew that right that minute Storm eyes could be on him without his knowing.
The ride across the open country seemed to last an eternity, but at last they were across and among high chaparral. They slowed as they entered a trail that was just wide enough to permit the passage of man and horse. The atmosphere was stifling, even at that time of the year. He glanced back and saw that Blessed was sweating profusely.
After a while, when they came to a small open glade, Blessed called a halt and got to work on the map he was drawing as they went on. The map was more than necessary, for the way had been winding and difficult.
Blessed himself was a worried man. He hated this harsh inhospitable brasada. It was entirely alien to him. How human beings had ever chosen to live here in the first place eluded him. To him, it seemed like a living hell of heat, thorns and dust. And this was the sort of country in which he had to operate.
He turned to Witney -
‘Could you find your way back from here, Chad?’
Witney shrugged.
‘Maybe. It wouldn’t be easy. Christ, what a country.’
That expressed Blessed’s thoughts. He looked around at Oaks and saw that the man was watching him mockingly. Blessed thought that if there were not so much at stake, he’d throw his hand in. He mopped his face with a handkerchief.
He wondered if he should try and retain Oaks’ services. Could he kill the girl in this and make his getaway?
‘Is there a simpler way out of here?’ he demanded.
Oaks nodded.
‘I’ll show you,’ he said. ‘Another mile with the horses, then we walk.’
They rode on.
After a while, they came to a creek that was no more than a pitiful trickle of water. The horses drank. The men sipped from their canteens. None of them liked the look of the creek. Oaks bade them leave their horses here.
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