Wild West

by Elmer Kelton

  Toby’s grin left him. “Alton, how come he’s so bitter about me? I wouldn’t expect him to greet me with open arms, but…”

  Alton shook his head. “Like I said, cowboy, he’s peculiar about some things. He’s kind of a puritan, in a way. He hates anybody who steals anything. You were stealing from him; that makes it extra bad.”

  He grinned again. “Kind of funny in a way, ain’t it? We all know how Pa got his start when he was our age. If it hadn’t been for moonlight nights, a fast horse, and a wide loop, he’d still be working for somebody else, for wages. But nowadays, you let anybody steal something from him and he’s like a grizzly bear caught in a trap.”

  Uncomfortably, Toby said, “You oughtn’t to talk about your own dad like that, Alton.”

  Alton Frost shrugged. “It’s the truth.”

  Toby frowned and changed the subject. “Tell me about Ellen.”

  “Oh, she’s doing fine. She’s got more brainless boys chasing after her than there are cattle in Tom Green County.”

  Toby hesitated with the question he really wanted to ask. “What about me, Alton? Reckon she ever thinks about me anymore?”

  Alton smiled. “Sure she does. The minute Pa heard you were back, he laid down the law to her. Said he’d shoot you if he caught you near her.”

  “And what did she say?”

  “She told him she would see anybody she had a mind to, and she would sure be wanting to see you.”

  Toby’s heartbeat quickened. He sat down on the little front porch, trying to keep from grinning as foolishly as he felt.

  “When can I see her, Alton? When had I ought to go?”

  Alton shook his head. “She said tell you not to risk coming over there. She’ll come to you.”

  Incredulously, Toby stared. “To me? That’s even riskier.”

  “Not really. Our ranch adjoins yours on one side. She’ll find some excuse to be riding in the next day or two. She’ll slip across the east pasture and come over … Ellen’s gotten to be a lot like us, Toby. She likes a little risk in everything she does. It’s like the sweetening in coffee. Take it out, and the pleasure is gone.”

  Toby was disturbed by something in Alton’s talk. He couldn’t exactly put his finger on it; maybe it was the realization that the old wild spark still burned in his friend, unquenched by the years that had drained the last of it from Toby.

  For a while Toby sat on the edge of the porch, staring past Alton, to the tall gate posts at the far end of the corral, and even beyond them to the rolling rangeland that stretched on and on until it disappeared out of sight in a vague green line of cedar.

  “Alton,” he said, “there’s something been bothering me. Since I’ve been gone, have you been…” It was hard to say. The words were right on his tongue, but a man couldn’t just come right out with a thing like this. He had to go at it from the side, and halfway cover it up. But underneath, it was still the same. “Have you been doing anything that you wouldn’t want to tell Cass Duncan about?”

  Alton laughed, but he didn’t meet Toby’s eyes for a moment. “Nothing serious, cowboy. Nothing serious.” He looked behind him to be sure Sod Tippett was nowhere around. Then he leaned forward.

  “Toby,” he said excitedly, “we been hoping you’d get out soon, Marvin and I have. We’ve run upon a real good proposition. You ought to be in on it.”

  A coldness was growing in Toby.

  Alton went on, “It’s this, cowboy. You know they’re building a new railroad down south of us. It’s seventy miles away, but that’s not too far. There’s a man down there that’ll take all the fat cattle we can drive to him. Splits the profits with us and doesn’t look at any brands. He comes up and meets us halfway. He butchers the cattle himself and sells the meat to construction workers on the railroad.

  “It sure cuts down the risk, Toby. It’s not near as bad as it used to be when we had to drive the cattle all over hell and half of Texas, and always take a chance on running into somebody. Now we cut out a few good ones here, a few there, make a fast night-and-day drive, and they’re off of our hands.”

  Disappointment was like a cold, wet blanket dropped across Toby’s shoulders. “You been doing this very long?”

  Alton nodded. “A good while.”

  “Your dad’s cattle along with the rest, I guess.”

  “He’ll never miss them. He’s got so much money now he doesn’t know what to do with it. It makes him miserable, just thinking about it. In a way we’re doing him a favor. Marvin and me have talked it over a right smart. You went to jail for us and never let out a peep. You’ve got something coming to you. How about it? The gravy’s thick, and we’ve got a big spoon.”

  Toby stood up, stiff with the coldness he held inside him. He stared out across the pasture before turning back to Alton, his face clouding.

  “You’re not going to like this, Alton. But I wish they’d caught you. I wish they’d caught you and sent you up the way they did me.”

  Color leaped into Alton’s face. His eyes glittered for a brief moment. “You don’t mean that, cowboy.”

  “Yes, I do mean it. I hoped that what happened to me would be enough to teach you something. I learned, and now that it’s over, I’m glad of it. But you never learned anything.”

  Alton stared in surprise and half anger. “That’s the way it is, huh, cowboy?”

  Toby nodded. “That’s the way it is.”

  Woodenly Alton Frost walked out and swung up onto his horse.

  “I’m sorry, Toby.”

  “I’m sorry, too.”

  Toby stood watching until Alton had ridden out of sight. An emptiness ached in him. There had been a close bond between them ever since they had been kids, playing together on a school ground and slipping over to the neighbors’ ranches to rope their calves on the sly. Neither boy had had a brother, so they had been brothers to each other.

  Now Toby sensed that this was all over, that it was being shoved behind him like the closing of a book.

  He sat down once more on the edge of the porch, looking out across the ranch and not seeing any of it.

  Ellen Frost came just as Alton had said she would. Toby’s breath came short as he hurried out to help her down from her horse.

  She was a beautiful girl, more beautiful even than he had remembered her, if that was possible. She had dark, laughing eyes and soft, full lips that made a man’s pulse quicken. She wore a tight-fitting white blouse that swelled outward, then pulled in slim and narrow at the waist. She was the kind of girl who made men stop and look back, and she knew it.

  Toby would have crushed her to him, but she pushed him back, smiling coquettishly. “Let’s not be in too big a hurry,” she said, looking into his eyes.

  His heart was pounding. “I’ve waited four years, Ellen. Would you say that I’m in a hurry?”

  Her only answer was another teasing smile. “Four years. That’s a long time, Toby. Lots of things can change.”

  In sudden worry he asked, “Have you changed, Ellen? Do you feel different about me now than you did four years ago?”

  She parried the question. “I took a big risk in coming over, didn’t I?”

  He replied, “Yes. And I’m glad you did. If you hadn’t, chances are I’d have gone over looking for you. It wouldn’t have mattered if your dad had been waiting with a cannon.”

  That pleased her. “That’s one thing I always liked about you, Toby. You were bold. You didn’t let anything scare you. A little risk never bothered you at all.”

  Toby started to frown.

  She went on. “And that’s something that has worried me. Surely at some time or other you must have had a chance to break out. Why didn’t you?”

  Surprised, he asked. “Break out? Why?”

  “Why, to be free, of course. You must have hated it there.”

  A sudden darkness began to come over him, like the one he had felt talking to the girl’s brother.

  “You’d have wanted me to do that, Ellen?”

&
nbsp; “Why not?”

  Bitterly he said, “Because I’d never have been free. Loose, maybe, but not free. Everywhere I’d turn, I’d be looking for somebody with a gun. I couldn’t have come home. All I could’ve done would be to run and keep running. Just like a coyote. It’s better to wait. Now I can go to sleep at night and not lie awake wondering if they’ll catch up with me tomorrow. I can look anybody in the eye and not have to flinch.”

  He looked levelly at her. “Isn’t that a whole lot better, Ellen? Isn’t it worth four years of my time?”

  She smiled and touched his hand. “Sure, guess you’re right.”

  The way she looked, he couldn’t help himself. He grabbed her and kissed her, hard. She finally drew away from him, smiling teasingly.

  “Four years have changed you, Toby.”

  He was almost pleading with her. “Four years haven’t changed me in what I want, Ellen. I want you. I want to marry you and bring you here to live. This is a good place. We can make it good. You won’t be sorry. Please, Ellen, what do you say?”

  The same smile lingered. “Like I said at first, Toby, let’s not be in too big a hurry. Let’s wait and see.”

  Disappointment brought a slump to his shoulders.

  “Come on,” she said, “get a horse and ride back to the boundary fence with me.”

  He rode along beside her, hoping for her to break down and say at least part of the things he had dreamed of her saying through the four long years he had been away. She never spoke. Sitting straight in her saddle, she was only an arm’s length away from him. Yet that lingering, teasing smile was like a barrier between them, making her as unreachable as a star.

  They came to the fence that divided Sod Tippett’s old place from the Frost ranch. Toby swung down and opened the wire gate.

  Ellen said, “I’ll be thinking about what you asked me. Watch for me. I’ll be back to see you.”

  She leaned over then and touched her lips to his forehead, a kiss that wasn’t really a kiss at all. It only brought an ache to Toby as he watched her ride away.

  Another man was watching her ride away, too. Marvin Sand stood hidden in a thicket of mesquite, his face dark. He dropped a half-smoked cigarette and ground it beneath his boot heel. He stepped into the saddle and rode out of the thicket, angling across to meet Ellen Frost.

  She pulled up in surprise, her face flushed. “Marvin! What are you doing here?”

  His voice was flat. “Waiting for you to come back.”

  “You trailed me?”

  He nodded. “And I saw what happened yonder by the gate. Stay away from him, Ellen. He’s going to draw lightning.”

  She began to smile, the same teasing smile she had used on Toby. “Maybe I like the kind of man who draws lightning.”

  Marvin Sand edged his horse up against hers. “He’s not your kind.”

  “And maybe you are?”

  Angry color began to seep into his face. He reached for her, grabbing her arms. “You’ve seemed to think I was. I’ve stood by and let you run after other men because when it was over you always came back to me. But I’m not going to let you make a fool of yourself over some ex-convict.”

  Her tiny mouth dropped open. Her voice sharpened. “You’d have been a convict yourself, Marvin, only you never got caught.”

  In sudden fury Sand drew back and slapped her so hard that she reeled in the saddle. “Don’t ever say that!”

  Ellen’s nostrils flared. She grabbed the quirt that was looped on her saddle horn. He threw up his arm to take the sharp bite of it. An angry cry swelling in her throat, she spurred away from him. She put her horse into a hard lope toward the Frost ranch headquarters.

  Marvin Sand held back, the color still high in his face. He glanced once back toward the gate, where he had seen Toby Tippett. His fists clenched. Then he swung his horse about and followed in a stiff trot along the trail left by Ellen Frost …

  Toby Tippett was pleasantly surprised by the good shape his father had managed to keep the herd in. Toby spent a lot of time in the saddle, riding around over the ranch, looking at the cattle. It wasn’t so much that they needed any care. The year was good. They were putting on a lot of tallow for the coming winter. And there was little doctoring to be done.

  It was just that it felt so good to be riding out in the open, breathing the good air of the range country and knowing that he was free.

  Riding back to the house late one morning, he saw the dun horse hitched out front, standing hipshot and switching flies. He read the brand as he rode by, but it was a new one to him. After unsaddling, he walked back to the house, curiosity working at him.

  He recognized the gray-haired man seated in the house with his father. Paul English stopped puffing his pipe as he saw Toby enter. He stood up, leaving the big old rocking chair to rock by itself.

  “By George, Toby,” he said with genuine pleasure, “it’s sure good to see you.” He grasped Toby’s hand.

  Grinning at him, Toby warmed inside.

  He would remember Paul English till the day he died. English had been Damon Frost’s foreman for many years. Toby had hired out to him many a time for extra cow work. English was a good man, the kind a growing boy watches and tries to follow.

  A lot of friendly talk passed between them. Finally English pointed the stem of his pipe toward the door, and Toby caught the hint.

  Outside, away from Sod, English said, “Toby, I’d like you to tell me something. Where were you last night?”

  Toby frowned, puzzled. “Why, I was here, Paul. With Dad.”

  “All night?”

  “Sure.”

  English nodded. “I’m glad. I asked your dad in a roundabout way, and he said the same thing. So I know it’s the truth.”

  Toby asked, “What’s the matter, Paul?”

  Grimness crept into his gray eyes. “Somebody was trying to run off some Long S cattle last night. Just happened that a couple of cowboys were on their way back from town and jumped them. The rustlers lit out.”

  “Anybody see who they were?”

  English shook his head. “Too dark. Never got that close, anyway. All they could tell was that there was two of them.” He paused, drawing deeply on the pipe. “I was in town this morning, son. I imagine you can guess what people were saying.”

  A quick rush of despair hit Toby. “I reckon I can. But I didn’t have a hand in it, Paul. I hope you believe that.”

  “I believe it. But not many will. Damon Frost will be calling for your scalp.”

  Toby clenched his fist. Damon Frost. The man’s implacable hatred had long been a puzzle to him.

  “Paul,” he said, “you were just about the only one that ever spoke up for me during the trial. You even went in the face of Damon Frost to try to get me off light. I’ve always appreciated that. But I never understood it.”

  Paul English smiled. “Mainly, I reckon, because I knew there wasn’t really anything mean about you. You were wild, but that’s the kind of thing that generally wears off in time. I was pretty wild myself, once.

  “There was something else, too. I knew that you and Dodd Parrish were protecting Alton Frost.”

  That came as a shock. “You knew? But how?”

  “Working with a bunch of kids like you were, a man gets to where he knows them pretty well. He can figure out lots of things for himself. That was another thing that made me try to hold Damon back. I knew that if he kept digging, his own son was going to be drug in, too.”

  “You still working for Damon?”

  English shook his head. “No. It never set well with him, me talking up for you. Pretty soon I got a chance to buy the old Murchison place, so I quit the Frost outfit and went to work for myself.”

  “Then who’s Damon’s foreman?”

  “Marvin Sand.”

  “Marvin?” Toby’s eyes widened. A sudden, unpleasant picture came into his mind. As foreman, Marvin would know where to find the kind of cattle the butcher wanted, know when it was safe to get them, probably
could even get by with false counts which would cover up the stealing.

  English was eyeing Toby sharply. “Any reason Marvin shouldn’t be foreman for Damon Frost?”

  Evasively Toby said, “I don’t know. I guess not.”

  But he could tell that he had planted a seed of suspicion in English. It showed in the man’s face.

  Beside his horse English paused a moment. “Toby, you’ve served your time. Don’t let them get you sent back for something you didn’t do. You better stop covering up for other people and think about yourself.”

  A knot of anger grew in Toby as he watched Paul English ride away. He had come home looking for a new start. He had asked nothing of anybody, except to be left alone and given a chance. Now he wasn’t going to let a couple of careless cow thieves spoil the chance he had earned.

  Sod Tippett came hobbling out to the barn as Toby saddled a fresh horse.

  “I’m going to town, Dad,” Toby said. “I don’t know what time I’ll be back.”

  The minute Sod spoke, Toby knew the man’s mind had dropped back into a worried time that had been gone for years.

  “All right, son. But you hadn’t ought to be going so much. Paul English was just telling me you’ve been making a good hand over at Frost’s. He’d like to hire you full-time, only he says you’ve still got a little too much wildness in you. You run around a lot. Maybe you ought to stay home…”

  With a tug at his throat, Toby said, “I will, Dad. I promise you, I will.”

  Toby had no real plan. There wasn’t much he could do except talk to Sheriff Cass Duncan, and lay the cards on the table. He wasn’t going to implicate Alton Frost and Marvin Sand—not unless he had to. But he knew with a stolid certainty that he would do it, if it was the only way to keep out of jail.

  He felt the brooding hostility in the faces of the men he rode past on his way to the big old courthouse. A nagging worry started. Maybe he had done wrong in coming here. Maybe he should have waited until they came after him.

  But deep within him he knew he was right. He was sure he could make Cass Duncan believe him. And it would be better to convince Cass now than to wait until the suspicion had worked so deeply in him that it could not be dispelled.