Riders Of the Dawn (1980)

Riders Of The Dawn Louis
L'amour *

Chapter
1

I
Rode Down From The High Blue Hills And Across The Brush Flats Into Hattan's Point , A Raw Bit Of Spawning Hell, Scattered Hit Or Miss along the rocky slope of a rust-topped mesa.

Ah, it's a grand feeling to be young and tough with a heart full of hell, strong muscles, and quick, flexible hands!

And the feeling that somewhere in town there's a man wh o would like to tear down your meat house with hands or gun.

It was like that, Hattan's Point was, when I swung dow n from my buckskin and gave him a word to wait with. A ne w town, a new challenge, and if there were those who wished t o take me on, let them come and be damned.

I knew the whiskey of this town would be the ra w whiskey of the last town and of the towns behind it, but I shoved through the batwing doors and downed a shot of ry e and looked around, measuring the men along the bar and a t the tables. None of these men did I know, yet I had see n them all before in a dozen towns. There was the big, harde yed rancher with the iron-gray hair who thought he was th e bull of the woods, and the knifelike man beside him with th e careful eyes who would be gunslick and fast as a strikin g snake.

The big man turned his head toward m e, as a grea t brown bear turns to look at something he could squeeze t o nothing if he wished. "Who sent for you?"

There was harsh challenge in the words, the cold demand of a conqueror. I laughed within me. "Nobody sent fo r m e.
I ride where I want and stop when I want."

He was a man grown used to smaller men who spok e softly to him, and my answer was irritating. "Then ride on,"
h e said, "for you're not wanted in Hattan's Point.-

"Sorry, friend," I said. "I like it here. I'm staying, an d maybe in whatever game you're playing, I'll buy chips. I d on't like being ordered around by big frogs in such smal l puddles."

His big face flamed crimson, but before he could answer , another man spoke up, a tall young man with white hair.

-What he means is that there's trouble here, and men ar e taking F sides. Those who stand upon neither side are everybody '
s enemy in Hattan Point."

'So?" I smiled at them all, but my eyes held to the big bul l of the woods. "Then maybe I'll choose a side. I always di d like a fight."

"Then be sure you choose the right one"--this was fro m the knifelike man beside the bull--and talk to me before yo u decide.

"I'll talk to you," I said, "or any man. I'm reasonabl e enough. But get this, the side I choose will be the right one!"

The sun was bright on the street, and I walked outside , feeling the warm of it, feeling the cold from my muscles.

Within me I chuckled, because I knew what they were sayin g back there. I'd thrown my challenge at them for pure fun; I d idn't care about anyone . . . and then suddenly I did.

She stood on the boardwalk straight before me, slim , tall, with a softly curved body and magnificent eyes and hai r of deepest black. Her skin was lightly tanned, her eyes a n amazing green, her lips full and rich.

My black leather chaps were dusty, and my gray shir t was sweat stained from the road. My jaws were lean an d unshaven, and under my black, flat-crowned hat, my hair wa s black and rumpled. I was in no shape to meet a girl like that , but there she was, the woman I wanted, my woman.

In two steps I was beside her. "I realize," I said, as sh e turned to face me, "the time is inopportune. My presenc e scarcely inspires interest, let alone affection and love, but thi s seemed the best time for you to meet the man you are t o marry. The name is Mathieu Sabre.

"Furthermore--I might as well tell you now--I am o f Irish and French extraction, have no money, and have n o property but a horse and the guns I wear, but I have bee n looking for you for years, and I could not wait to tell you tha t I was here, your future mate and husband." I bowed, hat i n hand.

She stared, startled, amazed, and then angry. -Well, o f all the egotistical--"

"Ah!" My expression was one of relief. "Those are kin d words, darling, wonderful words! More true romances hav e begun with those words than any other! And now, if you'l l excuse me?"

Taking one step back, I turned, vaulted over the hitching rail, and untied my buckskin. Swinging into the saddle, I l ooked back. She was standing there, staring at me, her eye s wide, and the anger was leaving them. "Good afternoon," I s aid, bowing again. "I'll call upon you later!"

It was time to get out and away, but I felt good about it.

Had I attempted to advance the acquaintance I should hav e gotten nowhere, but my quick leaving would arouse her curiosity. There is no trait women possess more fortunate fo r men than their curiosity.

The livery stable at Hattan's Point was a huge and rambling structure that sprawled lazily over a corner at th e beginning of the town. From a bin I got a scoop of corn, an d while the buckskin absorbed this warning against hard days t o come, I curried him carefully. A jingle of spurs warned me , and when I looked around, a tall, very thin man was leanin g against the stall post watching me.

When I straightened up, I was looking into a pair o f piercing dark eyes from under shaggy brows that seemed t o overhang the long hatchet face. He was shabby and unkempt , but he wore two guns, the only man in town whom I'd see n wearing two except for the knifelike man in the saloon. "Hea r you had a run-in with Bud Maclaren."

"Run-in? I'd not call it that. He suggested the countr y was crowded and that I move on. So I told him I liked i t here, and if the fight looked good I might choose a side."

"Good! Then I come right on time! Folks are talkie' abou t you. They say Canaval offered you a job on Maclaren's Ba r M. Well, I'm beatin' him to it. I'm Jim Pinder, ramroddin'
t he CP outfit. I'll pay warrior wages, seventy a month an'
f ound. All the ammunition you can use."

My eyes had strayed behind him to the two men lurkin g in a dark stall. They had, I was sure, come in with Pinder.

The idea did not appeal to me. Shoving Pinder aside, I s prang into the middle of the open space between the rows o f stalls.

-You two!" My voice rang in the echoing emptiness o f the building. "Get out in the open! Start now or start shootin'!"

My hands were wide, fingers spread, and right then i t did not matter to me which way they came. There was that ol d jumping devil in me, and the fury was driving me as i t always did when action began to build up. Men who lurke d in dark stalls did not appeal to me, nor the men who hire d them.

They came out slowly, hands wide. One of them was a big man with black hair and unshaven jowls. He looked surly.

The other had a cruel, flat face and looked like an Apache.

"Suppose I'd come shootin'?" the black-haired man sneered.

"Then they'd be plantin' you at sundown." My eyes hel d him. If you don't believe that, cut loose your wolf righ t now."

That stopped him. He didn't like it, for they didn't kno w me and I was too ready. Wise enough to see that I was n o half-baked gunfighter, they didn't know how much of it I c ould back up and weren't anxious to find out.

"You move fast." Pinder was staring at me with smal l eyes. "Suppose I had cut myself in with Blacky and th e Apache?"

My chuckle angered him. "You? I had that pegged, Ji m Pinder. When my guns came out you would have died first.

You're faster than either of those two, so you'd take your s first. Then Blacky, and after him"-- I nodded toward th e Apache--"him. He would be the hardest to kill."

Pinder didn't like it, and he didn't like me. "I made a n offer," he said.

"And you brought these coyotes to give me a rough tim e if I didn't take it? Be damned to you, Pinder! You can tak e your CP outfit and go to blazes!"

His lips thinned down and he stared at me. I've seldo m seen such hatred in a man's eyes. "Then get out!" he said.

"Get out fast! Join Maclaren, an' you die!"

"Then why wait? I'm not joining . M
aclaren so far as I k now now, but I'm staying, Pinder. Anytime you want wha t I've got, come shooting. I'll be ready."

"You swing a wide loop for a stranger. You started in th e wrong country. You won't live long."

"No?" I gave it to him flat and face up on the table. "No?

Well, I've a hunch I'll handle the shovel that throws dirt o n your grave, and maybe trigger the gun that puts you there.

I'm not asking for trouble, but I like it, so whenever you'r e ready, let me know."

With that I left them. Up the street, there was a sign: MOTHER O'HARA'S COOKING