to Tame a Land (1955) (19 page)

I grinned at them. "Where else would a man go i n this God-forsaken country?"

Red looked thoughtful. I saw his eyes taking in th e build of my horse, obviously no cow pony, and the ri g of my saddle.

"Do I know you?" Bronc asked.

"Damned if I know," I said frankly. "But this ain'
t my country. Had me some trouble over to Leadville an d decided to head west."

This was safe enough, because just a few days befor e three men had broken jail in Leadville. The three ha d never been identified, and little was known of them. I t had been rumored they were members of the Jame s gang.

"Far's that goes," I said, "I don't know you."

Leslie stared at me. I could see he had no liking fo r me and was suspicious. I could guess he was figurin g what would happen if he'd open the ball with a gun.

But Bronc Leslie was a careful man. He looked m e over a little and decided matters could wait. Anyway, if I h ad a chance out here, I would have none at the Roost.

Red made the peace move. "I'm Red Irons," he said.

"This here is Bronco Leslie."

"I'm Choc Ryan," I said, "from down in the Nation."

We drifted along, not saying much. Leslie took to dropping back a little, and as I liked nobody behind me, I'
d drop back with him. He didn't like it much, but he didn'
t make an issue of it, either.

"I'm mighty hungry," I said. "Will we make it tonight?"

"Late," Red told me.

Can you imagine country like that country was then?

And not much changed, even now. A lost land, a lan d quiet under the sun, where only the wolves prowled an d where the buzzards swung on lazy, easy wings. A lan d unpeopled and still, where the sun slowly sank, and fro m the cliffs the shadows reached out, filling the canyons t o the brim with darkness.

Ghostly footfalls echoed against the walls, saddle s creaked, and Red lifted a lonesome voice in song, singin g "Zebra Dun," and then "Spanish Is a Lovin' Tongue."

It was mighty pleasant riding, mighty pleasant. Only , up there ahead of me waited a bunch of men who, i f they guessed who I was, would kill me quick. Up ahea d waited death, and I rode alone into a lonely land fro m which no officer of the law had ever returned alive, an d where Ash Milo, the man I sought, was king.

Every footfall might be taking me closer and closer t o my death. Yet each took me closer to Liza, and closer t o the solution of my problem. And after this, if I lived, I w ould be free.

It was sundown before we made a turn, and by the n the cliffs had turned red and gold with the setting sun.

Tall spires like church steeples loomed ahead. The cliffs , in those last minutes before darkness filled the canyon , closed in and grew higher, until we were like ants walkin g between those gigantic walls.

In the bottom of the canyon it got dark mighty quick.

"Many in there?" I aske
d Red struck a match and lit a smoke. "Couple dozen a t headquarters."

"Know a gent named Ruskin?"

Bronc looked around at me. This was a feeler I wa s putting out, wanting to get a line on Ash Milo withou t bringing up his name. Ruskin was safe, because if rumors i were right he was the man Milo had trouble with. Also , according to the handbills, Ruskin was from the Nation.

"Friend o' yours?"

"Not him. . . . Well, we had trouble. Come near a shoot-out. I was just figurin' I'd best watch myself if h e was around."

"He was," Red said. "But he ain't."

Leslie spoke up, real satisfied-like. "He's dead. He mad e a play for the girl Ash Milo likes, an' Milo up and kille d him."

"Ruskin was s'posed to be bad."

"Hell!" Leslie spat. "None of them are bad compare d to the boss. I never seen a man in the world could slin g a gun with him!"

From another gunman, this was high praise, and me, I f igured I'd best start looking at my hole card. Only i t might already be too late. If this Milo was as good as the y said, I might not stand a chance. But I didn't believ e that. Not many gun fighters will believe they don't stan d a chance.

For the next hour of riding I heard a lot about As h Milo. Bronc Leslie, who had few enthusiasms, had one.

It was Milo.

"He's too touchy for my taste," Red said. "A man ha s to walk on his toes around him. I never seen a man gra b iron so quick, over nothin'."

This Leslie did not deny. "He's touchy, all right," h e admitted. "And maybe he shoots too quick. Someday he'l l kill the wrong man."

I'd heard that before. That was what Logan Pollar d advised me against. He used to talk to me of that, eve n while telling me I was good. "You're fast, kid," he'd say , "one of the fastest I ever saw, but watch it. You'll shoo t too quick and get the wrong man someday.

"Gunmen," he said, "get worse as they get older. The y get to figuring everybody is after them. A man has to qui t before he gets to that point. That's why I quit. That'
s why I'm lucky to have Mary."

Neither of them said anything more about Ash Milo'
s girl, and I didn't want to ask questions. Only, if I wa s to find out, now was the time. Turning into the narro w canyon back of a plateau, I took a chance and commented , "Hell of a place for a woman! How'd he ever get on e to come back here?"

"Him?" Red chuckled. "He's a mighty handsome man , and he's got a slick tongue with the ladies. She com e willin', I guess, only he watches her mighty close, s o I reckon she'd leave if she had her chance."

Leslie spat. "Too slim for my taste," he said. "I neve r could figure that in Ash. Nothin' between 'em either.

He's tryin' to win her honest. Don't know why he fool s around like that."

Red was just a black figure in darkness. "She's al l right," he said quietly. "A mighty fine girl. She sure fixe d me up that time after I got shot. Mighty gentle an'
m ighty sweet."

The high black wall of the canyon was split by a towering cleft, a narrow opening down which the wind gushe d like a strong flow of water. When I looked ahead, al l was darkness, with only the narrow strip of gray sky abov e us. This crack was mighty narrow, and, as I was to discover, mighty long.

When we had been riding maybe a hundred steps, Leslie drew up.

"Three safe men," he said aloud.

"Who?" The voice sounded as if from a cavern.

"This here's Leslie, Jim. Red's with me, an' a ne w man, name of Choc Ryan."

"Ride ahead, then." After a minute the voice added , "If that new man ain't all right, he'll never ride back ou t of here."

Me, I had a kind of queasy feeling in my stomach abou t that time. Riding down that narrow crack to get out o f here was going to be rugged, mighty rugged.

"Right back there," Leslie said, "one o' the boys go t hisself killed. A man don't speak at the right time, th e guard start shootin'. This feller was drunk. It was a ba d time to be drinkin'."

For maybe a quarter of a mile it was like that, an d then we dipped down into a canyon and ahead of us o n a sort of flat we could see lights in some cabins.

"There's the Roost, Choc, " Red said. "She ain't much , but she's home, and she's safe. No marshal or sheriff eve r seen it."

Chapter
17

RIGHT THEN I was tired, and I'd no right to be because I was going to have to be on my toes. Just whe n I would see Ash Milo I had no idea, but I was hoping i t would not be tonight.

Worst of all, I kept racking my brain over what Mustang Roberts had told me: that I was known to As h Milo. I couldn't remember him or anybody he might be.

But if he knew me, I wouldn't be Choc Ryan muc h longer. I'd be Rye Tyler, and dead.

With the weariness of the long ride behind me, al l my spirits drained into my boots. How was I to see Liza?

Suppose she wasn't even here? If I did see her, wha t could I accomplish? What fool's errand was this, anyway?

I was crazy.. . .

Only I was here.

We got down at the stables and put our horses i n stalls. There were some of the finest horses in that bar n that I ever did see, and I know horses. They were horse s built for speed and bottom. Nobody was going to ru n these boys down on ordinary horses. Yet I wasn't worrie d about the gray. He was one of the runningest horses I e ver did see. And he could walk the legs off a coo n hound.

Leslie took off and we followed him. There was a lon g building with lighted windows, and we went to that. A b oardinghouse, sort of.

Inside, two, three men sat around drinking coffee. On e was just eating. He looked tired and some beat, and h e had a bloody bandage on his arm. He looked up as w e came in. They all looked at me, but nobody spoke.

Leslie, he done the honors. "Choc Ryan," he said, "fro m the Nation."

None of them said anything, and then a big Negro cam e out of the kitchen with a platter of meat and potatoe s and put it down beside the tin plate and eating tools.

That big black boy's picture was on a poster in my offic e in Alta. He was wanted for murder. He'd strangled a guard and broke jail.

There was a pot of coffee on the table and I fille d cups for Leslie, Red, and myself.

The man with the wounded arm glanced at me. "Wha t d'you know? A gent!"

I grinned at him. "Ain't that," I said, "on'y these feller s are tougher than me. I figure I better butter 'em up a little."

He chuckled and we all settled down to eat. But m y comment seemed to set right, and they sort of settled down.

There was a big man across the table with his shirt ope n almost to his navel. He had a hairy chest and hair climbe d up his neck.

"I'm from the Nation," he said.

Here it comes, I thought. Now they ask me questions.

Only he just said, "Where'd you live?"

"On the Cimarron," I said. The trail drive had com e through that country and I knew that Leet Bowers ha d him a hangout on the Cimarron. This fellow might kno w of that.

He made a few comments on that Oklahoma country , and I added a few of my own, enough for him to kno w I'd been there, all right.

We turned in, bunking on the grass under the trees nea r the long bunkhouse. None of us wanted to sleep inside , and especially me. By this time I was feeling trappe d enough, and I was worried a great deal. This was a tighter fix than I'd reckoned on, and I could see they didn'
t trust me none at all.

Not that anything about me failed to ring true. I kne w I measured up. But men on the dodge can't afford t o be anything but cautious, and I was a stranger.

The next day we puttered around. I curried my hors e and found some corn for him. They had plenty of corn , growing their own, and the men took turns hoeing it.

Corn-fed horses will outrun any hay-fed horse, and laz y as some of these men might be, they knew they had t o have fast horses with plenty of strength.

Second day I picked up a hoe and walked out there.

Nobody said nothing, but when I returned after a coupl e of hours, I saw it set well with them.

Besides it gave me a chance to look around withou t being too obvious about it. Any man who uses a hoe lean s on it some, and while leaning, I looked the place over.

There were maybe ten buildings. Three or four wer e houses. Behind one of them I could see a woman's clothe s on a line. Unless there was more than one woman, tha t was where Liza would be. It gave me a lift just to b e that close.

But right next door there was another house and tw o men sat on the stoop. I noticed that at least one of the m was there all the time. Nobody was going to get close t o her without trouble, that was sure.

There wasn't much talk around, and none about her.

I did hear a man say the boss was mighty touchy, an d he didn't sound very happy about it.

One thing I could see, plain enough: Whatever els e Ash Milo might be, he had this tough bunch buffaloed t o a fare-thee-well. Nobody wanted any part of him, and tha t included Leslie and Sandoval.

There was one man there who was a little on the push y side. It was Chance Vader.

Second day there, I saw him. He was slick. Smoothshaved and wearing sideburns, he had pressed pants al l the time, and he kept his boots shined up. He wore tw o guns and he wore them low. Me, I am a looking-aroun d man. I saw he had another gun inside his shirt. That wa s something to remember.

Chance Vader duded up a good bit and he played card s a lot, and watching him, I saw his eyes straying towar d that little gray stone house where Liza was. He looke d toward it a lot, and sometimes he strayed toward it, bu t not often.

Once one of the men in front of the house next doo r got up and walked over to him. This was a big, burl y man called Smoky Hill.

I heard raised voices and finally Chance turned an d walked back. Red was sitting with me, and he said, lowvoiced. "Trouble there. Chance is too proud of hisself."

Talk around was that Chance had killed six men, fou r of them sure-enough bad men.

He was salty, that was for true. Anybody tangling wit h him would have to go all the way.