The Big Corral, page 7
He’d never thought much about anything like that before, and it was confusing. Maybe they’d been smart, at that. Now their troubles were over. What on earth had set him to thinking such thoughts? Just meeting with a girl—
He had a room tonight, and a bed instead of a blanket. A ceiling overhead instead of stars. And he couldn’t sleep for the softness of it, nor for thinking. Wild thoughts which were alien but not unwelcome. Notions which startled him. You couldn’t take a woman along—not on such a trail. Still—
- 12 -
NORTH had been out of town for part of the day. His temper, when he came into the Paddle Wheel, was like his name. He scowled at Doll where he talked with Altie.
“Don’t go gettin’ mixed up in anything,” he warned. “We’ve got to watch our step down here, if we want to get out of this country with whole skins.”
Doll’s own temper had shortened during the day. Despite lying long awake the night before, he had found no satisfactory solution for the problem which plagued him, and the day had only made it worse.
“What’s chewin’ on you now?” he demanded. “You cook-in’ some new deal?”
“That’s the devil of it,” North confessed. “This one’s clean as a cat’s whiskers. You’ve heard of him McLane?”
“Everybody’s heard of him that ever heard of Texas,” Doll retorted, without much exaggeration. Jim McLane was an old-timer in the region—a man with fiery temper and unpredictable moods. But he was so unfalteringly honest, so scrupulous in both his business and private life, that men spoke of him with pride, almost with affection. Jim McLane was not merely of Texas. He was Texas—in both its turbulence and its honor.
“You ain’t tryin’ to put nothin’ over on him, are you?” Doll demanded. “You do that an’ we never will get out alive.”
“I told you this was a straight deal,” North growled. “He’s got a thousand head of cattle for sale, and I want to buy them. Offered him the cash. But he’s holdin’ back on account of me being from Kansas. And I need that herd.”
Doll viewed him curiously. That North had some scheme in mind he had not the slightest doubt. There were tens of thousands of cattle for sale for cash, and little to choose between any of them for quality.
“I’m going to try again,” North added. “I’ve got to find a way to soften him up. But remember what I told you.”
Doll ate his supper alone in a restaurant, too despondent even to wonder particularly what North was up to. Then, though he knew that it was a foolish thing to do, he wandered back to the Paddle Wheel. For a while he sat at a table by himself, morose and wondering what was wrong with him. Altie was not in the room.
Something roused him, and he knew that he had dozed. Night lay outside the windows, the lamps had been lighted inside. And Altie had appeared.
It was that which had awakened him, he knew now. She was struggling in the grasp of a bearded giant of a man, who was laughing and trying to kiss her.
That was nothing new in such a place as this. Nor was it any of his business. Doll knew that, but he was on his feet and running, so quickly as to draw the startled gaze of the other inmates of the saloon. He paid no attention to them. His hand fell on the bearded man’s arm, wrenching him back.
“Let her alone,” he said thickly.
The big man—he was very young for all his heavy beard —released her. and Altie staggered back, her eyes filled with dismay.
“It’s all right,” she gasped.
“The hell it is,” the bearded man rasped. He had paused for a moment to survey this stranger who dared to interfere with him, amazement in his face. Now, without warning, he lunged at Doll, big hands outreaching. Altie screamed.
To the onlookers it looked much as it did to her—as though this rash stranger would have no chance at all. But Basque and Creole made a hot and dangerous combination. Noland Doll laughed. Here at last was something that he could do—a vent for the ferment which had been storing up in him for the last few days. He danced lightly aside, and the flat of his hand popped like a pistol-shot across the big man’s face.
It was like a bull trying to gore a hound which snapped at its heels. The big man was quick, but he was no match for the lithe speed of Doll. Doll hit him almost at will and where he pleased. He would dart in, and the solid thud of his blows told how hard they were. At first they had little effect, save to increase the savagery building up in the other man. His rushes became wilder, even less effective. Doll was playing with him, but it was ruthless play, like that of a cat with the victim it intended to feast upon.
Now one of the big man’s eyes was closing, then the other. Blood smeared his face, which was purpling, puffing grotesquely. His rushes had given way to a dazed sort of pivoting on his feet, while he stood like a befuddled grizzly and tried to ward off the rushes of an antagonist that he now could scarcely see. And yet he remained on his feet, refusing to go down despite the punishment he had taken.
The door surged open and three men burst in. One of them wore the badge of a town marshal.
“What’s going on here?” he demanded, and advanced upon Doll. “You can’t do that in this town—”
“Who’s going to stop me?” Doll demanded, and looked at the startled marshal over the leveled barrel of his revolver.
No man had seen that draw. They had been watching, but such a speed was rare, even in this land where fast guns were the rule. Like the nudge of a trout, taking bait from a hook before the fisherman knew it was striking.
And then the door had opened again, and two more men came into the saloon. Doll suddenly felt cold. One of them was Rawe North. The man with him, wearing a plaid shirt and bristling fiery whiskers, could be none other than Jim McLane. Those twin trademarks were known all over Texas.
The marshal was still staring at the gun, at the unwinking black eyes behind it. He tried to bluster.
“We hang men for less than that in this town,” he threatened. “Put up that gun!”
“And I’ve killed men for less,” Doll retorted flatly, and saw North advancing, scowling. His voice rapped across the silence.
“What’s going on here, anyway? Noland, put up that gun! What the devil are you up to?”
Doll held the gun steady. The marshal explained volubly.
“He comes in here and picks a fight with Colin Welch. Then he drags a gun on me—”
Thunderous laughter shook the room. Mirth which bellowed up from a mighty chest and rolled in an engulfing tide to fill the room and seep out to the street beyond. Gargantuan laughter from the throat of Jim McLane. His outflaring whiskers bristled like the horns of a lead steer.
“Light of Mars, that I should live to see this day!” he chuckled. “A year now I’ve watched Colin Welch bully this town and lord it over better men, as though he was something the Lord had made special, instead of a mistake of creation! And tonight comes a man half his size who whittles him down to size, whereat the law must come yapping like a mongrel cur to save him! Light of Mars, but ’tis a good world yet!”
He swung suddenly on the marshal, and a scowl replaced the mirth in his face.
“Take him out of here and put him to bed,” he roared. “And let me hear no word of arrestin’ a man who beats him in fair fight! Any man should be grateful—and most of them will be, I’ve no doubt. Man, ’tis Jim McLane would be proud to shake your hand!”
His own big paw was seizing Doll’s and pumping it as Doll bolstered the gun, and the marshal, abashed as a schoolboy, was leading Welch away without a backward glance, while the scowl was gone from North’s face.
Nothing then would do but that there must be a round of drinks, and the crowd, carefully neutral up to this point, all hastened to congratulate him. Which was well enough, except that he had scarcely a chance then for a word with Altie, though her eyes were luminous when she did thank him.
“You shouldn’t have interfered,” she said. “Not on my account.”
“I’ll have no man bothering you,” Doll declared. “Maybe now they’ll know better.”
“Maybe,” Altie agreed. “Though I didn’t care—before.” She looked at him, confused by what her tongue had confessed, and turned and hurried away. North was in high good humor as they returned to their room.
“That was a good piece of work you did, Noll,” he commended. “And did it tickle Old Whiskers! I’d worked on him all evening again, and still he wouldn’t give me a straight answer. But the last thing he said was to come out and see him in the morning. And you’ll go along. He’ll sell now.”
That proved to be true prophecy. They rode to McLane’s Lone Star ranch, half a dozen miles from the town, where the thousand head were gathered. He greeted them warmly, chuckling in retrospect over what had happened the evening before.
“That Colin Welch has been askin’ to be curried a right long time,” he said. “Light of Mars! He comes in here and acts like a king, because his carpetbagger father holds Texas in his hands like a sack of grapes and twists and squeezes the juice out, also the life of those who dare resist him! Defeated we may be, but men we are still—or a few are, praise God! I was fearful you were another yellow-belly in with the carpetbagger crowd, North, just because you live among the Yankees. Now I know better. We can do business.”
He nodded shaggy beard toward the herd, bellowed for a moment with laughter and was as swiftly sober again.
“There’s the thousand head you said you wanted, and at the price you agreed to pay—three thousand dollars. A steal it is, considering what you’ll get for them when you reach the railroad, but to you it’s fair.”
“And here’s the money,” North agreed, and handed it over in a wad. “Count it to be sure it’s right. Also here’s a bill of sale I wrote out this morning, if you’ll sign it.”
McLane accepted the money, laughing again until the tears trickled into his whiskers.
“Sure of yourself, weren’t you?” he chuckled. “But after last night, well you knew you held me in the hollow of your hand!” While he thumbed the bills, Doll read the bill of sale, which he was to sign as a witness.
It was clear and simple enough. For $3,000 cash paid, Jim McLane sold Rawe North 1,000 head of cattle, composed of various brands or no brand at all. McLane read it and affixed his own signature, and the deal was complete. But Doll was still puzzled as the two of them rode back to town.
“I still don’t see why you were so anxious to buy from him,” he said. “If you wanted to pay cash, anybody would be glad to sell.”
“Sure,” North agreed. “But just anybody wouldn’t do. Whereas Jim McLane is known all over Texas, and as an honest man. We’ll start up trail with them in the morning.”
That was what Doll had figured. What he was suddenly afraid of. Not that he had any desire to linger here, so far as the country itself was concerned. He had had no intimation that the big man was Colin Welch, and through his father’s influence a power in Texas, before tangling with him. Even had he known, it would have made no difference.
But Welch would be vengeful, there was little doubt of that. After he’d gone, too, Welch would be certain to thrust his attentions on Altie, if for no other reason than because she had been the cause of his discomfiture—
“Like blazes he will!” Doll swore, and turned toward the Taddle Wheel.
He had made up his mind. He was crazy, of course—no one needed to tell him that. But sometimes the craziest notions turned out the best. At least, he knew what he wanted.
Altie agreed to go riding with him, when he brought horses. She seemed both surprised and pleased, and for a while they rode almost in silence. It was the first time he had ever ridden with a woman, and he found himself constantly amazed at her. She did not talk much, but the silence was companionable.
“You ride like a cowboy,” he said.
“I’d ought to,” Altie agreed. “I was just about raised on a horse.”
“Then a long trip wouldn’t bother you,” he blurted.
She looked at him, not understanding.
“What do you mean?”
Doll felt his face go red, but he persisted.
“I mean, why not go back to Kansas with me?” he asked. “We could be married, and—well, I been thinkin’ about it a lot. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
She looked at him strangely, and then he saw her face twist and go soft, and knew that she was crying. He hesitated, uncertain, sure that he had said something wrong, but not knowing what to do about it.
“Aw, now, Altie,” he protested. “Don’t do that. If I’ve offended you—I sure didn’t mean to—”
“You haven’t,” she denied, but still did not look at him. “You—I’m crying because I’m happy.”
“You—you mean you will?” he demanded eagerly.
Still she did not look at him.
“I’m going to remember this—always.” she promised. “It —it’s what I’ve always dreamed about—and hoped for—”
“We can be married right away,” Doll insisted. “You won’t have to go back there at all—”
This time she did look at him. And shook her head.
“It’s awfully nice of you—but of course I can’t.”
“Can’t?” he demanded. “I’d like to know why not.”
“You’d ought to know,” she said. “It just wouldn’t do. I— I like you too much for that.”
Doll scowled.
“If you mean—where you work, why, I—I ain’t been no plaster saint myself—”
Altie looked away again, but her voice was final.
“I’ll always remember this—and you, Noland,” she whispered. “I think you’re the finest man I’ve ever known. And it’s the nicest thing that’s ever happened to me. But—it just wouldn’t do. I—I wouldn’t be good for you.”
- 13 -
FROM that decision Doll had been unable to move her. Altie looked soft and yielding, but on this she was adamant. Finally she turned to him pleadingly.
“Please don’t say any more about it, Noland. And don’t— don’t let’s quarrel. This other is so—so wonderful, that I want to remember it just that way. And we—we’ll still have this evening—to see each other.’’
Doll yielded to her urging. He was angry, puzzled, more unsure of himself than he had ever expected to be, but he knew that he didn’t want to make things any harder for her. And maybe, at the last minute, she would change her mind.
North wouldn’t like it if she did. The idea of taking a woman along on such a drive, one woman among a lot of men, wouldn’t appeal to him. He’d figure it as likely to stir up trouble, where already they would have more than they could conveniently handle. But on such a matter as that Doll was minded to handle his own affairs. Once she started with him, he’d look after her, all the way from there on out.
He returned to the Paddle Wheel again as evening settled. North was somewhere in town, busy as usual with the affairs which had brought him here. A part of the new-hired crew had been dispatched to start the thousand head on the move at the crack of dawn. As they passed through the town the rest of them would join up, making a crew of half a hundred. An overwhelming number to be driving such a small herd.
But the herd, as Doll knew, was destined for a fast increase. And they’d need a big, hard-bitten crew to hang onto them, to push them safe out of Texas and along the trail to the Arkansas. North was making sure not only of plenty of men, but that they knew how to use a gun.
Doll’s eyes ranged the big room expectantly, and he saw Altie and moved to a table, and she came to join him. Various men nodded in friendly fashion, since his brush with Welch the evening before. But there was a wariness about them as well. They were not forgetting that Welch had the law, such law as there was in Texas, on his side. And back of him a support that was not to be taken lightly. They were accepting Doll, but most of them would draw a breath of relief when he and North rode out of town.
Altie was very quiet. That suited Doll, for he felt the same way. Eyeing her closely, he judged that she had been crying.
“This makes me feel like a skunk,” he said miserably. “To come here and make you feel bad, Altie—”
She smiled, so warmly as to take him off guard.
“Make me feel bad?” she echoed. “Where do you get that notion? I haven’t felt so—so happy in years.”
“Then how about makin’ me feel happy, too, by going along with me?” he repeated. “Don’t I count for nothin’?”
“I wish you wouldn’t put it that way, Noland,” she chided. “You just make it hard. You—you know you do count. And that—that’s why I can’t do it.”
It was useless to argue. He saw that, and his liking for her increased. But this didn’t need to be final. After they reached Kansas, he could return. And maybe, when she saw how determined he was too, she would change her mind. Thought of that possibility lightened his mood. He grinned at her.
“There’s more days coming,” he said. “And I don’t know that I blame you much. Maybe I was wrong. There’s going to be plenty trouble on the drive, all the way to Kansas. And once we get there—there’ll be more than ever. But after that’s over—”
She looked at him quickly, understanding what he meant, and sudden fresh pain was in her heart, as though a knife twisted there. He meant to return again for her. It was bittersweet, and it left her gasping for breath momentarily, and praying—an almost forgotten prayer, long unused, on her lips. But she had to have strength!
It had taken far more courage than he guessed to refuse him already, when her whole being cried out with longing to go. There would be hardship on the trail, but there would be the clean sweep of the wind, fresh air to blow the past away. And him beside her!
Only, of course, nothing could blow the past away, and for that reason she must not go beside him. And if he planned to return—that meant that once more she must be on the move, long before he got back, to make sure that he did not find her when he came. It would take strength to go, severing the last link, the chance of ever seeing him again. But if she waited, she might not have the resolution a second time.
