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Authors: Orlando Rigoni

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BOOK: Twisted Trails
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Norah arose and dressed leisurely before she raised the blind. The sun rushed into the room, spreading a golden rug upon the carpet. Norah surveyed herself in her mirror and frowned at the brown and gold picture she made. Why should she not go up to Addie's and ask her about Paul?

But she wouldn't go to Addie's dressed in boots and buckskin and flannel. She would show Addie she could be a lady, too. Pulling the blind down again, she took off her riding clothes and put on a starched gingham dress, white and blue, with a small red bow at the throat. She pulled on black stockings and forced her feet into small pointed-toe shoes that always pinched before an hour had passed. Unraveling her thick braids, she combed out her hair and drew it up in a roll on the top of her head.

She turned as the door opened and saw the shocked expression on her mother's face.

"What are you doing in those clothes at this time of day?" Helen asked sharply.

Norah pleaded, "Let's not quarrel again, Mother."

"Quarrel, indeed! Is it quarreling to ask what you're up to? You should have had your breakfast long ago. It's after nine o'clock."

"I'll get my own breakfast."

"But those clothes. If you're doing it for the new man Uriah put to work, it will do you no good. He's been gone for some time with a load of hay for the post. Besides, what have I told you about mixing with the help?"

"Don't worry; I'm not going to make a fool of myself."

"Then why the starch and ribbons at this hour?"

"I'm going up to Addie's."

"Up to Addie's? Are you out of your mind?" Helen gasped.

"I've been there before."

"Do you know what you're saying? How many times have you been there? Why haven't I heard of it?"

"It was over a year ago, Mother, the time she had the singer from Salt Lake. She let me sit in the dining room and listen. It was wonderful."

"Indeed! If you put some paint on your lips and some powder on your face, perhaps she'll give you a job!"

"I have no paint or powder. I wish I had."

"Do you want to disgrace us all, Norah? If you want to flirt with Mr. Scott, do it here at home where he can't take advantage of you," Helen said.

"Mother, don't be so naïve. I'm grown up…"

"This is what comes of being born and reared in this wild, uncouth land. You don't know the value of things, the worth of people. How could you?"

"Look, Mother, I spent three years finishing my schooling in Salt Lake. Of course that's not New York, or even Denver, but there are civilized people there."

"You should have found a husband, then," Helen said.

"I didn't go there to find a husband. Is that how you met Uriah?"

"Your father was different. When he came to St. Louis with a shipment of furs, he was a wild, romantic figure. I guess I lost my head," Helen said reminiscently.

"Do you regret it?"

"I don't regret loving Uriah, but I do regret having had to give up so much. I thought some day I could take you back where people are civilized…"

"But I like my life here!" Norah interposed. "This is my home."

"And don't let Mr. Scott get a hold on you," Helen said. "Soon he'll be gone, and you'll suffer. I know. Look, there's Major Hornaby. He'll be transferred east soon. You could do worse."

"We've discussed Major Hornaby before, Mother. Now I must go."

"You're not changing your clothes, then? How will you get to the Lone Chance? Will you walk in those shoes?"

"I'll have Egg harness up the buggy," she said, using the nickname of a hand named Eglund.

"So we're going to be a lady, are we?" her mother jibed. "Well, remember what I told you." She went out, closing the door not too gently.

Once on the road, Norah felt conspicuous and a little less sure of herself.

But by the time she reached the Lone Chance, she had regained her composure. The sun, beating against the red front of the big building, cast a rosy reflection in the dust. She was about to alight from the carriage to tie her horse at the long rail when a man descended with a firm yet jaunty step from the shadows of the veranda. Norah paused in the act of alighting to stare at him.

She was unaware of having seen the man before, yet he bore a resemblance to someone she knew. For the moment she was unable to say who, because she was too absorbed in the man himself. His boots gleamed in the sun, and his creased trousers were pulled down over them. He wore no coat, but his broad shoulders were covered with a flannel shirt that flaunted a yellow string tie. She could almost smell the pomade that shone on the dark hair framing a wide, flat-planed face.

The voice that spoke to her was soft and courteous.

"May I have the pleasure of offering you my services, Miss Young?"

The sound of her name on the stranger's lips surprised her. Dubiously, she replied, "I can do for myself."

"No harm intended, Miss Young. Here; let me help you down."

His hand was soft, but impersonal, and Norah attempted to be gracious.

"Thank you, sir."

"Here, let me tie your horse for you."

"Thank you," she repeated, then tried to keep from running to the entrance of the dining room.

When she entered the dining room, with its smell of scrubbed floors and food being cooked for the noonday meal, she was still perturbed by the incident outside. The startled look on the face of the girl setting out clean dishes upon the long tables annoyed her.

"Will you tell Addie I'd like to speak with her, Jen?" she said, keeping her voice steady.

"Why—why, certainly, ma'am—I mean, Norah— say, what's this all about?" Jen looked puzzled. "You gettin' married?"

"No, Jen. Tell Addie I want to talk with her."

Jen disappeared, shaking her head from side to side. Norah remained standing, feeling out of place. She heard Addie say something in the barroom through the open door. The next minute Addie appeared.

"You want to speak to me?" she asked, her eyes curious under their dark lashes.

"I wanted to talk to you. Of course I know you're not to blame, but you could be helpful if you wanted to," Norah said evasively.

"What are you talking about, Norah?" Addie asked suspiciously.

"I'm talking about Egg."

"Yes? What about Eglund?"

"He doesn't take care of his job. He comes up here to drink and play cards when he should be working," Norah said quickly.

"And you dressed in your best bib and tucker to come and tell me about it?"

"You're dressed up, aren't you?" Norah defended herself.

"It's my business to be dressed up. I wouldn't look quite so appealing as you in buckskin and flannel. Now tell me what this is all about?"

"My father, he thinks Egg's working…"

"All right, Norah, you've made your excuse for coming. Let's sit down. Now tell me just why you came? Did you expect to find Paul here?"

Norah felt a flush warm her face, and it angered her. "All right, Addie," she said, her chin up. "I came to find out what happened here yesterday."

"Don't be evasive, Norah," Addie said. "That other time you were here, I told you to go home and grow up. Well, don't overdo it."

Norah had her gloves off, and now she creased them upon the end of the table.

"When Paul came in to dinner last night, he met Egg. I could tell that he had seen Egg before, and this is the only place he could have seen him. Now tell me what happened," Norah pleaded.

"There was a fight over a card game," Addie admitted, and went on to tell in detail just what had happened, emphasizing Paul's part in the argument, but not mentioning any other names.

Norah's eyes were alight. She felt an inner glow of satisfaction.

"He's brave, isn't he?"

"He's brave and quick. Good qualities in a man."

"Maybe he's a lawman in disguise, looking for someone," Norah suggested.

Addie shook her head. "I don't think so. I offered him a job, and he wouldn't take it."

"So you did try to hold him," Norah charged.

Addie, impatient, said, "I only offered him a job. If he's going to hang around here, he might as well earn his keep."

"And how would he earn his keep, Addie—by being nice to you?" Norah was sorry for the remark as soon as she said it.

"Norah, stop talking like that; it doesn't become you," Addie said almost in a motherly tone. "I'm sure Paul is a man to pick his own woman. He won't be picking her around here, because he won't be here long enough."

"How do you know? Did he tell you?"

"Yes, he did. He came looking for a man. It's a grudge fight, a feud, a vendetta. Do you know what that is, Norah? It's something to stay away from, because it curdles people, makes them hard and dangerous. Don't lose your head over Paul, Norah. Soon he'll be gone."

"But until he finds his man—"

"He has found him."

"You mean Alonzo Finch is here?"

There was no need for Addie to reply. A voice from the barroom did it for her.

"Did somebody call my name?" Finch said, smiling at the two women, his flat-crowned hat in his hands.

Norah looked up and for a moment sat immobile. There stood the man with the fancy clothes, the shiny hair, the inquisitive penetrating eyes whom she had met outside. This was the man Paul was after. Rising hastily, she turned to the door and almost ran from the room.

"Thanks, Addie," she said over her shoulder, not sure for what she was thanking the woman.

Alonzo Finch saw the girl's panic, and it amused him.

In her haste, Norah had left her gloves, and now Addie reached for them. Alonzo Finch's long, soft hand moved snake-like and fingered them away from her.

"These are mine to return, Addie," he said. "That's the prerogative of a gentleman."

"Norah isn't a woman, Alonzo; she's just an inexperienced girl."

"Why not let me find that out for myself, Addie?"

Finch knew he was exasperating Addie, and it gave him pleasure.

"You think you know where Lieth Severs has gone, don't you?" he prodded her further.

"He's gone to Salt Lake to check up on the new land surveys, same as Hebe Farrow did for the mine and Carmody for the railroad."

"I told him to tell you that, Addie. It would give you something logical to think about."

"Then where is he?"

"He's where I sent him. You see, Addie, all people have past lives, and some of them are very dangerous."

"You're lying—you're trying to frighten me," Addie charged.

"Why should I try to frighten you? If Lieth comes back like we agreed, then I'll leave this place. It's that simple."

He saw Addie pulling herself together.

"On the contrary, Alonzo," she said, "I intend to warn the girl about you."

"Oh, come now, Addie. Wouldn't that be absurd? It would be the pot calling the kettle black. I'm not an ignorant blackguard. I have charm and personality. I'm sure I have the knowledge and the manners to impress her," he said, stuffing the gloves into the pocket of his tight-fitting pants.

 

 

 

Paul Scott, his long body cradled in the load of hay, watched the rhythmic rumps of the sleek horses below him as he drove the team down the dusty road. The nest of alfalfa was fragrant and sweet.

He clucked to the horses and focused his eyes on the circular outlines of the fort, which was nothing more than a stockade, a boundary to separate the military from the rest of the world. The stockade was constructed of a warp of cedar poles, their butts thrust into the earth, with a weft of heavy wire binding them together. The Indians were quiet now, and the Mormons offered no further physical resistance to federal authority, so this outpost was but a symbol of power, keeping the peace more by its presence than by its authority.

As Paul drove up to the heavy, counterbalanced gate, it swung open grudgingly on its tallowed hinges, and Sergeant McCune was inside to welcome him.

Paul, following the sergeant's waving arms, pulled the wagon upon the big scales and kicked the brake tight before sliding to the ground.

The short, thick sergeant thrust out his hand, and Paul winced at the pressure of it. A smile of welcome wreathed the sergeant's red, weathered face.

"McCune's the name," the sergeant said. "I see you're another one."

"Paul Scott here," Paul said, and added, "What did you mean by that last remark, Sergeant?"

"Uriah has a tough time gettin' the fodder delivered. Sometimes he brings it himself. Sometimes he sends Eglund, but Eglund doesn't like to come. Looks to me like he's scared of this place. Even Norah has delivered the hay in a pinch." McCune laughed.

Paul felt rebuked. "Looks like I took a woman's job, then."

"Now don't be touchy, Scott. That girl can tackle anything and still be a lady. Come to my quarters while the men unload the hay. They're busy right now; it'll take a little time."

Paul followed the stocky, cocksure man toward the row of huts that disected the stockade. McCune led the way into an orderly room, cramped but spotless. The earth floor had been dampened and swept until its hardened surface was like tile. Along one wall a shelf held books which intrigued Paul. They were mostly classics, but there were books on law and medicine.

Digging into the straw of his neatly made-up bunk, McCune drew forth a bottle of whiskey. Holding the bottle behind him, he stuck his bristly head out the door and looked carefully around. Then he closed the door.

"The major's death against liquor on the post. He has issued a written order, posted on the bulletin board, that liquor is prohibited on the post under penalty of imprisonment. Here, have a drink."

Paul accepted the drink in the spirit in which it was offered.

"How did you happen to arrive at this place, McCune?" Paul asked. "There's not much future in it, is there?"

McCune smacked his lips over the strong liquor and put the bottle back in his bunk.

"Let me tell you, lad," he replied: "today is yesterday's future. Beyond that a man can't tell. The future, the present and the past are all in every tick of the clock. A man can't put his finger on any of them. I went to California when the gold fever was on. I was young and tough enough to hold my own. Staked a good claim near what later became Columbia on the Stanislaus River. Didn't take me long to learn that me an' money wouldn't get along very good. Too much firewater, too many fights, an' the gold siftin' through my calloused fingers. I woke up disgusted one day and saw I was a fool. I had a neighbor in camp with a wife an' two kids. How they had the gall to go there I don't know. This neighbor didn't have any luck, so I up an' gave him my claim. Fiscoli was his name. He insisted I keep half the claim, but I told him it would only bring me grief. Fiscoli made good, bought land with his gold, and has a right nice place out there. They still write to me, an' I've got a home to go to when my soldierin' is done. That's more than I'd have if I'd kept the claim."

BOOK: Twisted Trails
11.33Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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