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Sundance 14

Page 13

by John Benteen


  “You’ll get no quarrel from me about that,-” Sundance said. “I’ve got a use for every penny I can lay my hands on.”

  “I know. And—sit down.” Yance gestured. “I know where you can lay your hands on a lot more money.”

  Sundance hitched at his weapons belt, dropped into a chair. Yance sat down again, leaning forward across the desk. “Jim, I’ve got a proposition to make. The line’s in good shape now—damned good shape. I found the map, you know, in Art’s gear, the one showing where he’d buried his share of the bullion he’d already stole. The mine’s happy and the passengers are too—I guess because Cochise is. Like you suggested, we doubled the goods we leave for him of our own accord, and as much hell as he’s given Wells-Fargo, he’s left us strictly alone. So everything’s straightened out—except for one thing. It takes two people to run this company—one inside, with a head for business, the other outside, with a head for horses, guns, and men. Me, single-handed, I’m havin’ a devil of a time, stretched like a string. Besides, this office work don’t sit with me. How’d you like to be a partner in the company—fifty-fifty, down the line? You’d make some money. A lot of it.”

  Sundance shook his head. “Yance, much obliged, but there’s no way.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because,” Sundance said. “Because I’ve got a lot of places to go, a lot of things to see to. And—I like Arizona well enough, but it ain’t my country. I’m a northern Cheyenne.” He said it flatly, but within him there welled a great homesickness for the high northern plains, the circled teepees, the pungent smell of campfires, the nickering of the great horse herds, the endless reach of distances, the cold rivers and the snowcapped mountains. “So I’ve got to be heading north.. But if it’s a partner you want, somebody that you can trust and that’s got a head for business, can handle the inside work, I know of one—Have you ever thought of Martha Fenian?”

  Yance raised his head. “I’ve thought of her considerable. But she wouldn’t have nothing to do with a roughneck like me. She’s a different kind of woman from—you know, Ellie.” He frowned. “But you’re right. She’s run that boarding house and made it pay, made good investments around town. Do you really think she might be interested?”

  “Why don’t you talk to her about it?”

  Yance rubbed his face. “I might just do that. Yes, by God, I just might. I appreciate the tip.” Then he smiled. “Look, could I ask one more favor of you?”

  “Sure.”

  “Our usual shotgun guard to Tucson got kicked by one of the team yesterday and he’s got a broken leg. You’re bound north anyhow. I’m not expecting any trouble, and we’re not hauling much but mail and passengers. All the same, we’ve got to have a guard. I’ll swap you free passage to Tucson for your services.”

  Sundance grinned. “Why not?”

  “Good.” Yance’s voice was full of satisfaction. “The stage will be ready to roll in about ten minutes.”

  “Let me get Eagle,” Sundance said, “and I’ll be on it.”

  ~*~

  The Concord coach with its six-horse team jingled to a halt before the office. “All aboard for Tucson!” Yance Rawlings bawled and the nine passengers climbed in, as the driver loaded the mail sack in the boot. Rawlings shut the door, then turned to Sundance. “Well, Jim—” He stuck out his hand. “Good luck.”

  “The same.” Sundance shook it, then climbed up over the wheel to the guard’s seat, settled down. The driver took place beside him, gathered up the lines of the six-up hitch. A weathered man of middle age with a tremendous wad of tobacco in his mouth, he spat a stream that splashed on a wheel-horse’s rump. Then, with a sound like pistol shots, he popped the reins. “Hii-yahh!” he bawled. “On your way, you sons of Satan!”

  The team broke into a run. Sundance cradled the shotgun in his lap. Jingling, swaying, the coach rolled north up Rucker Street, past the abandoned corral, and hit the road to Tucson, Eagle, saddled, bridled, easily keeping pace.

  Sundance turned, looking backwards. But Coffin City had already vanished in a roil of dust. Facing forward again, the shotgun on his lap, he alertly watched the desert, as the coach rolled northward, the team fresh and strong and moving smartly.

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