Milo Talon (1981)

by L'amour, Louis - Talon-Chantry

The other cowhand was growing a bit nervous. “Wally? Let’s get out of here.” Then he said to me, “We’re not bothering Shelby stock. We was just lookin’ for that feller.”

  “Who is a Shelby hand,” I said. “Go ahead and look, it’s your neck that’ll be stretched.”

  “I don’t like you,” Wally said. “I got a good notion to-”

  “You better have another notion that beats that one,” I said, “because I don’t like you, either.”

  It was time I got back to Pablo but I did not dare go where these might follow. And I intended to take his horse.

  “Who’ve you, anyway?” Wally demanded. “I got a notion-”

  “Any time,” I said.

  He dearly wanted to, but he looked at me and he looked at that Winchester and he looked back at me again.

  His tongue touched his lips and he looked at me again. It was almost as if he was drawing me a picture. He was just wondering if he could draw and fire before I could fire. Now most anybody in his right mind would know there was no way he was going to beat me, but when a man fills his mind with how tough he is, he definitely is not in his right mind. He’s got to prove something.

  My eyes were on Wally but they took in the other man, too. “You,” I said, “you with the blue shirt? Are you in this? Or do you want to live?”

  “I’m lookin’ for a Mexican,” he said, “just what we were sent to do, and that’s all.

  Wally? Come on. Let’s ride.”

  “You ride,” he said; and then still drawing the picture, he said, “All right, I’ll ride along with you.”

  He started to turn his horse and as he did he drew his pistol. He was medium fast, and completely dead.

  He had the pistol clear and his face was shining with triumph. He’d show me! Why he would show this-!

  The jolt of the .44 didn’t knock him out of the saddle but it let air through him from one side to the other. He dropped his six-shooter and grabbed for the horn and he hung on tight, staring at me, his face growing whiter.

  “I’m sorry, Wally, all you had to do was ride away.”

  “I-I thought-” He slumped forward then fell from the saddle, one foot hanging in the off-stirrup. The horse started to move, and, stepping my horse around him, I caught the bridle.

  “Take him home,” I said. “And ride with a partner who isn’t so much on the prod.

  You’ll live longer.”

  “I couldn’t believe it. You with that Winchester-”

  Riding so I could keep an eye on the rider in the blue shirt, I caught up Pablo’s horse, bunched the others, and started for the hills. That shot might bring other riders and I’d had enough of killing.

  Wally was one of those who think tough and talk tough, but they’ve never been there when the chips were down and they don’t realize that tough talk is the first move on the long slide down to Boot Hill.

  What was back there was something I did not like to think about. I would rather watch the horses move in the sunlight.

  Pablo was on his feet, watching for me when I rode in. He looked at the horses, then at his horse.

  “You count “em,” I said. “I don’t know how many there were.”

  “I heard shots,” he said.

  “A man named Wally,” I said, “one of those who came after you last night, judging by the tracks of his horse.” I stepped down from the saddle. “Only one,” I said, “the other man had good sense.”

  Chapter Thirteen.

  The one thing I wanted to do was to get away from the area. The shooting that had just taken place could lead to retaliation and I wanted no more if it could be avoided.

  Besides, I had a job to do.

  Pablo was weak. He needed rest and attention. If Anne was still living in Fisher’s Hole she was the sort to help; so getting Pablo into the saddle, I followed Gleason Canyon toward the St. Charles River.

  Most people would have said Pablo was in no shape to ride. Maybe he wasn’t, but men on the plains and in the mountains lived a hard life and were accustomed to toughing it out. Doctors were few and far between and we made do with what we knew or what we had. It wasn’t always enough but in the majority of cases we survived. Seems to me the more medical attention you can afford the more you need it.

  This was wild country through which we were riding. Several times we saw deer and rode past a couple of bear trees where they had left marks of their claws. Before pulling out I’d gone around to see that lion I’d killed. He was a big one, my guess was he’d weigh well over two hundred pounds, although I’d seen one weighed that tipped the beam at two hundred and thirty.

  He’d been a beautiful, splendid beast. I was never much on killing anything I didn’t need to eat, but ever since I’d seen what a mountain lion would do to a pen of lambs I’d not hesitated to shoot one. Weak as he was, Pablo wouldn’t have had much chance with this one.

  We rode through the trees, winding our way upward, picking our way with care. Pablo slumped in the saddle, but like most cowhands he could stay in the saddle when only half conscious.

  The air was clear and cool. We were nearly seven thousand feet above the sea, and when we stopped to give our horses a chance to catch their wind I could see out through the trees to the plains below. This was a part of the front range, the face of the Rockies looking eastward toward the wide, wide plains that ran all the way to the Mississippi and beyond.

  Every now and again I’d stop to check our back trail. There was nowhere that let me see very far, but there was no sign of movement down below or no sign we were followed. That did not mean we were not.

  Riding on, I got to studying about Jefferson Henry and this girl I was to find. Portis figured the Magoffins had been murdered. I knew that Tut had been, so somebody was playing for keeps.

  What had been in Nathan Albro’s safe that he wanted removed? What was it that thief had been trying to steal? By all accounts, Nathan Albro was an honest man, although a strict, stern one. He had wanted to protect Nancy’s inheritance and had tried.

  What had become of Stacy, Newton’s wife? Where was Newton? Was he dead? Had he been killed, too? My trouble was that I was riding a trail where I couldn’t read the sign.

  No wonder the Pinkertons had given up. If they had.

  Nathan Albro apparently owned something Jefferson Henry wanted and would stop at nothing to get. Newton, who obviously hated his father, had slipped around and married Stacy, probably simply to get possession of whatever it was, then he had hid out from his father.

  Why try to get Nancy away from her mother? Maybe Newton had bet on the wrong horse when he married Stacy. The property or whatever it was must have been left to Nancy. By getting Nancy away from her mother she might be tricked or frightened or cajoled into signing away what she owned. New ton was going to prove to papa he could do something on his own and in spite of papa.

  Maybe.

  The Magoffins had apparently helped Newton or been in the deal somehow and had decided to sell him out. This was all surmise, but I had to figure the thing out. Then Newton had them murdered, or murdered them himself?

  Maybe.

  They had hidden Nancy away in California with her mother. Those Digger pines, I’d seen them growing at some place in the foothills of the Sierras and in the Tehachapi Mountains. That great splash of blue … somebody was painting the desert in wildflower time, and the patch of orange was California poppies.

  Pausing to give the horses another breather, I stepped down from the saddle and walked back to Pablo. He was all in. I mean he was hanging on but I could see there was no way we were going to go farther right then.

  We had crossed the head of Spring Branch and St. Charles Peak was ahead and on our left. “Can you stick it out a couple of more miles?”

  He had nerve, that Mexican did. He tried to smile and almost made it. “Si. Two miles, four miles, I stay.”

  Pablo was hurting, anybody in his right mind could see that. Anyway, he spoke pretty good English, probably as good as I do except whe
n he’s tired or hurt.

  “I want to get on the other side of the St. Charles,” I explained. “There’s a meadow over there.”

  The horses we had rounded up were following and, I hoped, tracking out any trail we should have made. They might assume we had taken the horses with us, but they might just as well be wandering along on some purpose of their own.

  We made a camp at the edge of the meadow and I built a small fire, heated water, and bathed Pablo’s wounds again. In this high altitude wounds tended to heal quickly and infection was less likely to cause trouble.

  With some leaves I made a bed for him and got him settled down to rest. The horses, content to be with our horses, whom they knew, wandered out on the meadow. As there was good grass and water close by, it was unlikely they would stray. The other horses which we had not rounded up would be apt to follow along and join them.

  “Pablo?”

  He opened his eyes. “You sleep now. I’m going to ride out and scout for that cabin.

  There’s a girl lives up here, I think. If I can find her I can get some grub.”

  “Bueno.” He closed his eyes.

  Standing over him, I hesitated, not liking to go off and leave him like that; but we’d both slept out many a time under worse circumstances and I’d not be gone long.

  If my guess was right the valley I was hunting would be no more than four or five miles as the crow flies.

  Checking my Winchester first, then my Colt to make sure both were fully loaded, I roped one of Shelby’s horses, switched saddles, and rode northeast, hunting a trail.

  So far as I knew there was no way into the valley except from the south.

  If I could get some care for Pablo and a place where he could lay up a few days while getting his strength back, I would try to head back to scout that valley where Anne might have settled. It was high time I got on with my job. Seeing Anne would be nice.

  I’d never known her well, but she was a mighty pretty girl and this gave me a chance to get better acquainted, although I’d no time to waste.

  There might have been a better way to where I was going but I hadn’t the time to look for it. The one way I knew was the way everybody went, following the north branch of the St. Charles. Riding down through the trees, following an old trail I stumbled upon, a trail dappled with sunlight falling through the trees, I went back over the problem.

  Except for the money I’d advanced to Molly Fletcher I had spent little of the gold given me by Jefferson Henry, which was just as well. I had a good notion it was all of his money I’d ever see. He had talked about spending as much as fifty thousand dollars to find her, but I doubted if he was getting from me what he expected.

  Somehow he had the notion that I knew something, which I certainly did not, but in my own clumsy way I was stirring things up too much. The men who attacked the horse-camp must have been his … or whoever else was in the game.

  When I found my way to the trail into Fisher’s Hole, I pulled up and studied it.

  There was nothing about it I liked although I doubted if I’d run into trouble here.

  These people we’d had trouble with were outsiders and I doubted any of them would even know of this place. Still, there were too many places where a man with a rifle could control that pass.

  I saw no fresh tracks on the trail. It had been several days at least since anybody had ridden that way. Winchester in my hands, I started my horse into the Hole.

  There was another road that went out toward Canon City, and somebody back yonder had mentioned a sawmill operating in the Hole and lumber being brought out to Fountain City. Business must be quiet because I saw no sign of that. Several people lived in the Hole but I knew none of them except by name.

  There was a nice smell from the pines and I rode into the Hole and picked up the trail to the cabin where I’d heard Anne was staying.

  What I had to remember was I hadn’t come all this way to see Anne. What I was looking for was a place to bring Pablo.

  It was a log cabin and there was a corral nearby. As I rode up I saw somebody move inside one of the windows and then the door opened and a man came out. He carried a shotgun and had a pistol belted on. He was a big man, quite heavy, with thick black eyebrows and a handlebar mustache.

  “Lookin’ for something?”

  “I was looking for Anne. Tell her Milo Talon is here.”

  “Never heard of you.”

  “If you will just tell her, I think she will remember me.”

  “She hasn’t got time for saddle-tramps. Just you take off down the trail.”

  “Without even a cup of coffee? I treated her better than that when she stopped at our ranch.”

  He hesitated, and I heard a voice from within say something. He seemed undecided.

  “You’re riding a Shelby horse,” he said.

  “That’s right. I’ve got a herd of them right up on the hill, and a wounded man who needs some care. He’s been shot.”

  “Shot by who?” He was interested now.

  “Some riders from out of the country. Strangers. They attacked the Shelby horse-camp, scattered the stock, and wounded Pablo. He’s not bad off, but he needs care.”

  Now in western country no man was ever turned away who needed help. This man did not like the idea but he was worried now.

  Anne suddenly appeared in the door and she was even prettier than I remembered. “Oh?

  Milo, I’m sorry. I had no idea. We’ve been having trouble around here so we’ve had to be cautious.”

  “Trouble?”

  “Rustlers. Some of the Mexican bandits who used to hide out here. You may have heard the story. There was a man named Maes.”

  “Yes, I’ve heard of him.”

  “You wanted some coffee? Get down and come in.” She turned to the big man. “It’s all right, Sam. I know him.”

  There was a fire burning in the fireplace. The room was neat as could be, with curtains in the windows, and a square table, a red-checkered tablecloth, and dishes on it ready for a meal. Another man sat in a rocker near the fireplace. He wore a store-bought suit and a stiff collar. He had a sharp, shrewd face and hard little eyes that missed nothing.

  There was a woman, a big woman who looked to be stronger than Eyebrows.

  “Gladys? Will you serve Mr. Talon some coffee? And you might fry some eggs for him.”

  She looked at me again. “It’s been some time since you’ve eaten, I suppose?”

  “Yesterday,” I explained. “When they scattered the Shelby horses I was headed for his camp to eat with Pablo. Neither of us has eaten since.”

  The food couldn’t have been better, and the coffee was the best I’d had, but something was completely wrong about this setup. Anne had been unusual in some ways, but being a city girl I’d sort of expected it. The setup here didn’t seem natural, and nobody was acting right. I had an idea there might havePS

  A been a quarrel and I’d stepped into the middle of it. It was that sort of feeling, and it embarrassed me. Anyway, I didn’t think it was any place to bring Pablo.

  “Ma’am? I don’t want to bother you folks, but Pablo’s wounded. If you could let me have a little grub and something to fix up that wound, I’ll be on my way.”

  “Of course. You just finish eating, Milo, and we will put something together for you.”

  Eyebrows went to the door and peered down the trail, shotgun in hand. It looked as if they were expecting trouble and I’d had enough. With this crowd around there’d be no chance to talk to Anne, anyway.

  Filling my cup a second time, I watched them hurriedly putting a package of food together, looking around for paper to wrap it up, then bringing it to me in a burlap sack that I could carry on my saddle.

  “I’m sorry, Milo. We’ve had trouble here and everybody is a little tense. Next time you’re by this way, why don’t you drop in and see me?”

  Gulping the last of the coffee, I stood up. As I did so something fell in the next room. The big woman gasped and the man w
ith the eyebrows half-lifted his shotgun.

  “Thanks, Anne, and thanks to you folks.” I put on my hat. I went down the step and walked over to where my horse was tied. Gathering the reins, I mounted, not looking back, but I knew that Eyebrows was standing on the step watching me go.

  I waved as I turned away but he did not respond.

  It wasn’t until I rounded a clump of trees that I started to wonder. Who was in that bedroom? What were they scared of? Or wary of?

  None of my business. I had troubles enough.

  Chapter Fourteen.

  It was late before I found my way back to where Pablo lay. He was sleeping, looking gaunt and worn. The Shelby horses were feeding on the meadow and I roped a horse for Pablo and caught up my own horse. Leading them back to camp, I stripped the gear from the horse I’d been riding and turned him loose. Then I picketed my horse and Pablo’s close by in case of need.

  There were a few coals left of the fire so I added some bark and twigs, blowing up a small blaze. There was an old, beat-up coffeepot and a couple of cups in the things Anne’s people had sent along, so I made coffee, fried some bacon, and sliced some bread from the loaf.

  %

  “It is a good smell, the coffee.”

  When I looked around Pablo was sitting up. I forked up several slices of bacon and put them on some of the paper the food had been wrapped in. “Eat,” I said, “the coffee will be ready in a minute.”

  Then I added, “I went down to Fisher’s Hole. Do you know it?”

  “Si, we call it Maes’ Hole for a Mexican who lived there. Sometimes he was a bandit, but a friendly man if you came to his house. I knew him when I was a small boy.”

  “Something’s bothering those folks down there,” I said. “They acted kind of jumpy.”

  “Are they mixed up in your trouble?”

  “Them? No, of course not. How could they be? There’s no connection. Living alone like that, it’s likely they’d be wary of some stranger riding up.”

  “You knew this Anne?”

  “Well, sort of. They came by the ranch, stayed to rest up. Anne’s a mighty taking girl. Beautiful. I don’t know what I expected. Hell, I only talked to her a couple of times but I sort of thought … well, you know how it is.”