Collection 1986 - The Trail To Crazy Man (v5.0) (32 page)

D
OC WEST LIVED in a small white cottage surrounded by rose bushes and shrouded in vines. Several tall poplars reached toward the sky, and there was a small patch of lawn inside the white picket fence.

He answered the door at my rap, a tall, austere-looking man with gray hair and keen blue eyes. He smiled at me. “You’re Matt Sabre? I was expecting you.”

That made me grin. “With a face like this, you should expect me. I took a licking for a while.”

“And gave one to Morgan Park. I have just come from the jail, where I looked him over. He has three broken ribs and his jaw is broken.”

“No!” I stared at him.

He nodded. “The ribs were broken last night sometime, I’d guess.”

“There was no quit in him.”

West nodded seriously. “There still isn’t. He’s a dangerous man, Sabre. A very dangerous man.”

That I knew. Looking around, I saw nothing of Olga Maclaren. Hesitating to ask, I waited and let him work on me. When he was finished I got to my feet and buckled on my guns.

“And now?” he asked.

“Back to the Two Bar. There’s work to do there.”

He nodded, but seemed to be hesitating about something. Then he asked, “What about the murder of Rud Maclaren? What’s your view on that?”

Something occurred to me then that I had forgotten. “It was Morgan Park,” I said. “Canaval found the footprint of a man nearby. The boots were very small. Morgan Park—and I noticed it for the first time during our fight—has very small feet despite his size.”

“You may be right,” he agreed, hesitantly. “I’ve wondered.”

“Who else could it have been? I know I didn’t do it.”

“I don’t believe you did, but—” He hesitated and then dropped the subject.

Slowly, I walked out to the porch and stopped there, fitting my hat on my head. It had be done gently, for I had two good-sized lumps just at my hairline. A movement made me turn, and Olga was standing in the doorway.

H
ER DARK HAIR was piled on her head, the first time I had seen it that way, and she was wearing something green and summery that made her eyes an even deeper green. For a long moment neither of us spoke, and then she said, “Your face—does it hurt very much?”

“Not much. It mostly just looks bad, and I’ll probably not be able to shave for a while. How’s Canaval?”

“He’s much better. I’ve put Fox to running the ranch.”

“He’s a good man.” I twisted my hat in my hands. “When are you going back?”

“Tomorrow, I believe.”

How lovely she was! At this moment I knew that I had never in all my life seen anything so lovely, or anyone so desirable, or anyone who meant so much to me. It was strange, all of it. But how did she feel toward me?

“You’re staying on the Two Bar?”

“Yes, my house is coming along now, and the cattle are doing well. I’ve started something there, and I think I’ll stay. This,” I said quietly, “is my home. This is my country. This is where I belong.”

She looked up, and as our eyes met I thought she was going to speak, but she said nothing. Then I stepped quickly to her and took her hands. “Olga! You can’t really believe that I killed your father? You can’t believe I ever would do such a thing?”

“No. I never really believed you’d killed him.”

“Then—”

She said nothing, not meeting my eyes.

“I want you, Olga. You, more than anything. I want you on the Two Bar. You are the reason I have stayed here, and you are the reason I am going to remain.”

“Don’t. Don’t talk like that. We can never be anything to each other.”

“What are you saying? You can’t mean that!”

“I do mean it. You—you’re violent! You’re a killer! You’ve killed men here, and I think you live for fighting! I watched you in that fight with Morgan! You—you actually enjoyed it!”

T
HINKING THAT OVER, I had to agree. “In a way, yes. After all, fighting has been a necessity too long in the life of men upon earth. It is not an easy thing to be rid of. Mentally, I know that violence is always a bad means to an end. I know that all disputes should be settled without it. Nevertheless, deep inside me there is something that does like it. It is too old a feeling to die out quickly, and as long as there are men in the world like Morgan Park, the Pinders, and Bodie Miller, there must be men willing and able to fight them.”

“But why does it have to be you?” She looked up at me quickly. “Don’t fight anymore, Matt! Stay on the Two Bar for a while! Don’t come to town! I don’t want you to meet Bodie Miller! You mustn’t! You mustn’t!”

Shrugging, I drew back a little. “Honey, there are some things a man must do, some things he has to do. If meeting Bodie Miller is one of them, I’ll do it. Meeting a man who challenges you may seem very foolish to a woman’s world, but a man cannot live only among women. He must live with men, and that means he must be judged by their standards, and if I back down for Miller, then I’m through here.”

“You can go away! You could go to California. You could go and straighten out some business for the there! Matt, you could—”

“No. I’m staying here.”

There were more words and hard words but when I left her I had not changed. Not that I underestimated Miller in any way. I had seen such men before. Billy the Kid had been like him. Bodie Miller was full of salt now. He was riding his luck with spurs. Remembering that sallow face with its hard, cruel eyes, I knew I could not live in the country around Hattan’s without facing Miller.

Y
ET I SAW nothing of Bodie Miller in Hattan’s, and took the trail for the Two Bar, riding with caution. The chances were he was confident enough now to face me, especially after the smashing I’d taken. Moreover, the Slades were in the country and would be smarting over the beating I had given them.

The Two Bar looked better than anything I had seen in a long time. It was shadowed now with late evening, but the slow smoke lifted straight above the chimney, and I could see the horses in the corral. As I rode into the yard a man materialized from the shadows. It was Jonathan Benaras, with his long rifle.

When I swung down from the saddle he stared at my face, but said nothing. Knowing he would be curious, I explained simply. “Morgan Park and I had it out. It was quite a fight. He took a licking.”

“If he looks worse than you he must be a sight.”

“He does, believe me. Anybody been around?”

“Nary a soul. Jolly was down the wash this afternoon. Them cows are sure fattenin’ up fast. You got you a mighty fine ranch here. Paw was over. He said if you need another hand you could have Zeb for the askin’.”

“Thanks. Your father’s all man.”

Jonathan nodded. “I reckon. We aim to be neighbors to folks who’ll neighbor with us. We won’t have no truck with them as walks it high an’ mighty. Paw took to you right off. Said you come an’ faced him like a man an’ laid your cards on the table.”

Mulvaney grinned when I walked through the door, and then indicated the food on the table. “Set up. You’re just in time.”

It was good, sitting there in my own home, seeing the light reflecting from the dishes and feeling the warmth and pleasantness of it. But the girl I wanted to share these things with was not here to make it something more than just a house.

“You are silent tonight,” Mulvaney said shrewdly. “Is it the girl, or is it the fight?”

I grinned, and my face hurt with the grinning. “I was thinking of the girl, but not of Park.”

“I was wondering about the fight,” Mulvaney replied. “I wish I’d been there to see it.”

I
TOLD THEM about it, and as I talked I began to wonder what Park would do now, for he would not rest easy in jail, and there was no telling what trick Jake Booker might be up to. And what was it they wanted? Until I knew that, I knew nothing.

The place to look was where the Bar M and the Two Bar joined. And tomorrow I would do my looking, and would do it carefully.

On this ride Mulvaney joined me, and I welcomed the company as well as the Irishman’s shrewd brain. We rode east toward the vast wilderness that lay there, east toward the country where I had followed Morgan Park toward his rendezvous with Jack Slade, east toward the maze of canyons, desert, and lonely lands beyond the river.

“See any tracks up that way before?” Mulvaney asked suddenly.

“Some,” I admitted, “but I was following the fresh trail. We’ll have a look around.”

“Think it will be that silver you found out about in Booker’s office?”

“Could be. We’ll head for Dark Canyon Plateau and work north from there. I think that’s the country.”

“I’d feel better,” Mulvaney admitted after a pause, “if we knew what had become of that Slade outfit. They’ll be feelin’ none too kindly after the whippin’ you gave ’em.”

I agreed. Studying the narrowing point, I knew we would soon strike a trail that led back to the northwest, a trail that would take us into the depths of Fable Canyon. Nearing that trail, I suddenly saw something that looked like a horse track. A bit later we found the trail of a single horse, freshly shod and heading northeast—a trail no more than a few hours old!

“Could be one of the Slade outfit,” Mulvaney speculated dubiously. “Park’s in jail, an’ nobody else would come over here.”

We fell in behind, and I could see these tracks must have been made during the night. At one place a hoof had slipped and the earth had not yet dried out. Obviously, then, the horse had passed after the sun went down.