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cowpoke. He had spent more years up on the hurricane deck of abronc than he
had afoot, so he latched onto the old apple with both hands while we led the
horse down the cliff.
Glancing at him, I saw his face had gone white. But his lips were drawn thin
and tight and he made no sound. There was nothing but hooves against rock and
the creak of the saddles as we went down, Fuentes leading, me coming right
along behind.
Once on the ground near the cottonwoods I'd seen, and among the willows, we
got busy and made a bed for him out of willow boughs, leaves and such-like.
Knowing there would be no buckboard wagon there much before morning, we rigged
up a lean-to above him. We staked out the horses, and gathered fuel for a
fire.
Hinge was mighty quiet, sometimes asleep, maybe unconscious, and sometimes
wandering in his talk. He kept mentioning a "Mary" I'd never heard him speak
of when he was himself.
"Be gone a while," I said, "come daylight. I'm going to gather our stock and
drift it down this way and give it a start toward home."
"Si,"Fuentes had been turning the idea around in his own head. I was sure of
that. "If the buckboard comes we can bring them in."
Fuentes slept and I kept watch, giving Hinge a drink now and again, easing
his position a mite,sponging off his forehead or his lips with a bandana.
Hinge was a good man, too good a man to go out this way because of some
hotheaded young no-account. Mentally, I traced Ben Roper's route as he rode
toward the ranch, trying to pace him, trying to figure out when he would
arrive and how long it would take him to return. We had our fire in a sort of
hollow where there were some rocks, and we let it die to coals but kept it
warm. It would be a comfort to Joe if he happened to awaken.
At midnight, I stirred Fuentes with a boot. He opened his eyes at once.
"I'll sleep," I said, "call me about three."
"Bueno,"he agreed. "Do you think,amigo, that they will come?"
I shrugged. "Let's just say they will. I don't know. But if we figure it that
way we'll be ready."
For several minutes I lay awake, listening. There was a frog somewhere nearby
in the creek or near it, and there was an owl in one of the cottonwoods.
A hand on my shoulder awakened me. "All is quiet. Joe is asleep."
I shook out my boots in case they had collected any spare spiders, lizards or
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snakes, and then pulled them on, stamping them into place. Fuentes lay down
and I went to the sick man. He lay with his head turned on one side, breathing
loudly. His lips looked cracked and dry. I walked to the fire and added a few
sticks. Sitting down in darkness with my back to a huge old cottonwood, I
tried to sort the situation out.
Balchwas not stealing, nor were we. I doubted if the major was ... but what
about Saddler? I had never trusted the man, never liked him, yet that was no
reason to believe him a thief.
An unknown?And was the unknown some connection of Lisa's?
What dodo ?
First, try to find where Lisa came from, locate her, study the situation,
possibly eliminate her as a possibility. Perhaps the next thing would be to
scout theEdwardsPlateau country.
From time to time I got to my feet and prowled about, listening. I stopped by
the horses, speaking softly to each one. The night was very still, and very
dark.
My thoughts went to AnnTimberly , and to China Benn. It was rare to find two
such beautiful girls in one area. Yet, on second thought, that wasn't unusual
inTexas , where beautiful girls just seem to happen in the most unexpected
places.
Moving back to the small fire, I added a few sticks, then went back to the
shadows at the edge of camp, keeping my eyes away from the fire for better
night vision. A wind stirred the leaves, one branch creaked as it rubbed
against another, and far off under the willows something fell, making a faint
plop as it struck the damp ground.
Uneasily, I listened. Suddenly I shifted position, not wanting to stand too
long in one place. I did not like the feel of the night. It was wet and still
... but something seemed to be waiting out there.
I thought of the unseen, unknown marksman who had shot at me. What if he came
now, when I was tied to this place and the care of a wounded man?
Somethingsounded, something far off ... A drum of hoof beats ... A rider in
the night.
Who ... on such a night?
Again the wind stirred the leaves. A rider was coming. Moving back to the
edge of darkness and firelight, I spoke softly: "Tony?"
He was instantly awake. There was a faint light on his face from the fire,
and I saw his eyes open. "A rider... coming this way."
His bed was empty. As suddenly as that, he was in the shadows and I caught
the gleam of firelight on a rifle barrel. He moved like a cat, that Mexican
did.
The rider was coming up through patches of mesquite, and I could almost hear
the changes of course as the horse moved around and among them but coming on,
unerringly. This was no casualrider, it was someone cominghere , to this
place.
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Suddenly the horse was nearer, his pace slowed, but the horse still came on.
A voice called from the darkness."Milo?"
"Come on in!" I called back.
It was AnnTimberly .
Chapter 19
SHE STARED AT me, shocked. "But ... but I heard you were wounded!"
"Not me. Joe Hinge caught one. Tory Benton shot him."
"Where is he?" She swung down before I could reach out a hand to help her,
bringing her saddlebags with her. Before I could reply, her eyes found him and
she crossed quickly to his side and opened his shirt.
"I'll need some hot water, and some more light." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
