Beyond the Broken Road, page 30
"A man might brag in a situation like that," Joe said, smiling. "I've been known to gloat a time or two when I've been right, and everybody else is wrong."
"Well, it's not exactly gloating," Abby said, "but more joy."
"Joy over a stinking sheep?" Rock asked, a frown on his face as he had been unable to release the original story.
"Parables are just stories with a message, and that's the way this one is.” She knew she was floundering and wished she’d never thought of using the Bible to do this.
Ollie chuckled. "Why not just say it straight out then?"
"Don't pick on Miss Abby," Bull growled at Ollie, a frown on his big face. "She's reading us from the Good Book. My Mama used to do that. You, dimwits, oughta be grateful to her, not finding fault with it, even if it don't make any sense."
"Thank you, Bull," Abby said, smiling crookedly. This wasn't nearly as easy as it looked when the pastor got up to do it. She was determined though and tried again. "The Bible says people are a lot like the sheep Ollie was talking about. They’re not remembering anything, wandering off, getting lost, then not knowing how to get home."
"If God compared people to sheep," Rock said with disgust, "I don't guess he's wanting us back."
Abby sorely regretted this whole idea. She glanced over to see what Sam thought about it and noted the smile on his face, then wondered if it came from the message or the mess she'd gotten herself into with it.
"The point is," she said, trying again, "there is always a second chance for people. God never gives up on us."
"And," Sam said, moving out of the shadow, the faint smile still on his lips, "that word repent, what does it mean?"
"Well, being sorry, I think," she said.
"Just being sorry? Or does it also mean paying for what you've done wrong?"
She looked away from Sam because when she looked at him, she felt lost in her desperate need to make him see he could begin again. She changed the subject to humans. "It's easy to love your friends," she said, "but to love an enemy, to die for him. How many do that?"
She made the mistake of glancing at Sam. "Not any still alive," he said the expression in those blue eyes sardonic.
"Well, it isn't easy for men to love the way God did," she said, knowing with a sinking feeling that she wasn't going to convince him. She suddenly wasn’t even sure she understood it that well herself. These stories were so simple, so easy and yet how did they really apply to the things life threw at some people as it had Sandy and Sam?
Sam dropped into a chair but said nothing. She didn't know whether to be grateful or frustrated. He, of all the men, was the best at punching holes in her story. Looking at the men's blank faces, she decided the next time she’d try to find one out of something like Aesop’s Fables.
"I'd like to read from stories like this or others now and then," Abby said, stubbornly standing her ground, even when she realized it was being pulled out from under her, "but I don't want to force any of you to listen if you aren't wanting it."
"Does it mean we don't have to eat your cooking?" Bull asked, and the others laughed.
"Definitely," she said, "Well except for Sam." The men chuckled again as they left, most saying they'd be glad to return. Too bad they had to add that it was at least something to do in the evenings to avoid losing all their wages to Snake.
When they were alone, Abby looked at Sam, saw the thoughtful expression in his eyes. "What about you?" she asked. "Will you listen to the stories?"
He nodded. "For sure any time Snake does."
"What does he have to do with it?"
"You saw how he was looking at you. If he comes back, it won't be to repent," he said, rising and stretching with a grimace. "I can't believe how hard it is to dig up dirt."
"Dig up dirt?"
He looked chagrined. "I didn't mean to tell you yet. Guess there's no point in hiding it though. I'm working up that vegetable plot you said you wanted. I don't know why because anything you plant's going to be eaten by the birds, deer or coati, but if you want it, I figured it'd be a good way to get my strength back."
She smiled. "Sam, thank you." She bit her lower lip. "I... I'm very appreciative."
The gleam in his blue eyes was a welcome sight to her. "How appreciative?"
"How tired are you?" She walked to him, putting her arms around his waist and hugging him as tightly as his still healing wound permitted.
"Not any--anymore."
Splitting wood, his shirt on the stump beside him, gloves on his hands, Sam worked methodically to split the pine chunks into stove sized pieces. The work was hot but satisfying. Sometimes, if he moved too quickly, he could feel the pull on his scar, but he could work without thinking which suited him perfectly.
He took hold of half a log, set it squarely on the block and swung to cleave it neatly in half. He didn't trust Snake and hadn’t liked the look in his eyes when he watched Abby. There was a glow about her since they’d begun to make love, a full voluptuousness and moist warmth to which he thought Snake was reacting. It was, of course, possible it was just the reward. Whatever the case, Snake was someone that he wished he could shoot and be done with. Unfortunately, that wasn’t his way. So, he waited. At some point, Snake would make a move and give Sam a chance to clear his Eden of the snake who threatened it.
Setting another quarter log onto the block, Sam almost didn’t hear the little shriek, which was quickly cut off. Knowing it came from where Abby had been hanging out clothes, Sam grabbed his Colt from where it lay under his shirt and ran. With the men out rounding up strays, no one from the ranch should’ve been around. Maybe it was another mouse, but he was taking no chances.
When he saw them, Snake was holding Abby, his lips pressed against hers. Sam felt a red haze of rage to see that Abby was beating ineffectually at him with her hands. Sam was on them before he had any idea of what he was going to do. Grabbing Snake by one shoulder, he spun the man around, slamming him alongside the head with the gun barrel. Instantly he wished he hadn’t done that as Snake crumbled to lie still in the dust. Sam had wanted to kill him, not disable him. He’d just lost his chance.
Breathless, he turned to Abby. "Are you all right?"
Tears were running down her cheeks, but she managed to nod.
Sam bent and pulled Snake from the ground, holding him half suspended by the front of his shirt. "You're out of here," he snarled into the dazed man’s face.
Snake’s eyes blinked open. “Just a kiss, man."
"Pack your gear. Get off the place. Just give me one excuse, any excuse, and I’ll kill you.”
Snake’s eyes looked dazed. “You’re making a mistake.”
"I made one. Now I’m correcting it." Sam let go of his hold on the man and rose to stand above him, still shaking from the conflicting emotions of anger and fear. Snake struggled to his feet, stood looking at Sam a moment, wavering on his feet before he managed to walk off unsteadily in the direction of the bunkhouse.
Sam turned to Abby, drawing her into his embrace, needing to hold her and feel her as much as he thought she could ever have needed his support. "You're sure you're all right?" he asked to reassure himself as much as anything.
"I’m sorry," she said, tucking her head against his chest. "I should have handled it better." He heard the sob in her voice and felt angrier than ever at the man who'd caused it.
"You have nothing to be sorry about. I should’ve gotten rid of him. Any man touches you; you scream the roof off. I'll always come."
"Always?" she asked, tightening her arms around his waist.
"I won't let anyone hurt you so long as I'm around," he said, knowing he could promise nothing more. He picked her up in his arms.
"Sam," she protested, wriggling. 'You might hurt yourself."
"Don't fight me, Abby. I'm going to carry you to the house, and you can make it easy on me or hard."
Abby gave up and wrapped her arms around Sam's neck. "Just so you know if you open up that wound after all the trouble, I went to closing it up, I’m going to be real mad," she threatened, nuzzling his neck.
"It's healed. That won't happen."
"He didn't hurt me."
"I'm doing this for me."
At the house, he saw Joe come riding up. Sam set Abby on the porch and called Joe to him. “You sure you’re all right?” he asked Abby.
"I'm fine. I'll just start supper."
"Joe, you stick around, huh?”
Joe nodded dismounting and tying his reins to the hitching rail. “How long?”
“Not long.” Sam looked at Abby. “You should lie down.”
"I'm not hurt, Sam. I'll start supper." Then she saw the look in his eyes. "Where are you going?"
"I need to settle up with Snake. I'll be back."
"What does that mean?" she asked frowning.
"Talk a little."
"Talk, that's all?"
His smile and the hard look in his eyes didn't reassure. She couldn't stop him and could only watch as he strode off.
"What in blazes happened?” Joe asked her, looking after him.
Abby told him briefly.
“Snake is lucky he walked away.”
“But what does Sam want to talk to him for now? He told him to leave."
"He might need reminding."
“About what?”
"Snake's the kind'll go the marshal and name Sam as the one who robbed the stage. He'd turn you in alongside him if he thought it would increase the reward."
"But Sam didn't rob that stage. You know that."
"And who would ask my opinion?"
At the barn, Sam smoked his cigarette as he watched Snake unsteadily saddle a horse. "You're making a mistake," Snake threatened as he mounted.
"Likely," Sam agreed, knowing he ought to kill the man, but reluctant to do so without proof that it was necessary. "You remember which way you were riding?"
Snake glared at him. "I'm heading south for Nogales," he snarled.
"Don’t stop this side of it. and remember this country's unhealthy for men who grab women.”
“It was just a lousy kiss.”
Sam felt his rage mount again. “My woman, Smith.”
Snake cursed as he looked down at Sam.
“One more thing,” Sam said. “It isn’t healthy for men who talk. You do know what I mean?”
“You think you're so tough," Snake retorted. "You ain't all that fast. I seen you."
Sam's smile was easy and confident. "You want to test that out?" He rested his hand lightly on his revolver in its holster.
Snake scowled but shook his head. "I'll see you in hell," he said and put his spurs to the side of his horse, heading south.
"You reckon he's heading for Nogales?" Ollie asked, coming to stand at Sam's side to watch the horse and rider disappear in a cloud of dust.
"No."
"What you going to do about it?"
"Go in and talk to Abby a little." He looked at Ollie. "Then I'm going to count on you to keep an eye on her in case Snake doubles back."
"You know I will. The boys are back too."
"Then I’ll do what needs doing.”
“I oughta go with you. Joe and Bull'll watch Abby."
"No. You and I both know I need to do this alone. You just keep her safe. If anything goes wrong, get her and that shipment she's so worried about to her father in Tucson."
"Anything happens to you and that shipment, and Tucson's going to be the last thing she's worried about."
"Maybe. Maybe not. You just see to her." He stared into the sky. "I might not be back tonight. If I'm not, keep her from worrying. If I'm not back by tomorrow night, well you know what to do."
CHAPTER 24
Riding Satan after a long spell of idleness took a steady rein, physical strength, and some concentration even when Sam was fit. The loss of blood he'd suffered had taken a lot out of him, even more, had been stolen by the long spell of inactivity. By the time they'd ridden five miles, the kinks were out of the horse but just beginning for Sam.
Talking to Abby hadn't eased his mind. She was shaken by Snake's attack but more upset that he was riding off and not telling her what he was doing. He'd consoled himself that it wasn't a lie because he wasn't sure. If Snake rode south, he'd be at the ranch by dark; but if he was heading for Tubac as Sam figured, he'd follow him.
The sign wasn't difficult to follow, as Snake did not attempt to hide his trail. Either he didn't believe Sam, because of his recent wound, would follow, or it was what he wanted. He passed through the first settlement without stopping, which left Sam little doubt about where he was headed and what his goal was. Hard riding took Sam to the outskirts of Tubac with Snake not far ahead of him.
Tubac on the Santa Cruz River south of Tucson was a small community of adobes and a few businesses. At one time it had looked as though, because of the beauty of its setting, it might become a real town, but the Apaches had burnt it to the ground. Now with the Apache danger having lessened with Geronimo at least for now supposedly on the reservation, the community was again growing. A small but convenient supply center, a few whites, Mexicans and Papago Indians were the main inhabitants.
If Sam was right, Snake would head for the small cantina in the center of town. He'd go there to get information on the reward and try to work out a way to collect it without incriminating himself. Snake's plan suited Sam because he wanted plenty of witnesses when he confronted the traitor.
When Sam saw Snake enter the cantina, he rode Satan to the corner of a nearby building and dismounted.
"I watch your horse, mister," a small, dark-haired boy offered.
Sam smiled down into his dark eyes, remembering how many times he'd asked just that question. "How much?"
"I do it cheap, but I do it real good."
Sam reached into his pocket, pulled out two bits, and flipped the coin to the boy, who caught it and grinned.
"I water him too for this much."
"No, you stay back from him." Sam tied Satan's reins to the corner post. "This horse is mean. Eats little boys like you for lunch."
The youngster took a step back and looked up into the eyes of the big, black stallion. Sam grinned. "He'll be fine. You just make sure nobody tries to take him." Not that he figured anybody with sense would try.
The little boy nodded. "I do that real good for you."
Sam lit a cigarette and leaned against the hitching post smoking it. When a man started into the bar, he called him over. "You mind telling the man who just went in, that someone’s out here, waiting on him."
The stranger stared at him before nodding.
A few moments later, Snake came out of the cantina, a smile pasted on his narrow face. "Funny you didn't tell me you'd be coming this way," he said as he walked out onto the boardwalk.
"Funny--you didn't either."
"Just getting a beer."
"And if I walked into that bar would that be all I'd hear you were after?" Sam asked taking a drag on the cigarette.
Snake swallowed. "Man can ask for information. Don't mean he's goin' to do nothin' with it."
"That's true, but I'd consider it a right unfriendly thing to have done."
Snake moved farther into the street, positioning himself, so the sun was at his back, his gaze not leaving Sam's. "We could talk about this," he offered.
Sam accepted the disadvantage of the sun in his eyes. "Talk won’t fix this."
"I did figure it'd come to this," Snake said with a reptilian smile. "After I see you lying in the street, gutshot, I might go back to the ranch, see that little gal of yours. Reward's nice and tempting, but so is a hot little thing like her."
Sam waited, knowing Snake was talking to enrage him hoping it would give him an edge. It was fine with him. He needed the traitor to draw first and for there to be witnesses.
"Funny thing about her," Snake said, "first time I saw her, I figured her for--" Sam saw Snake's hand dip for his gun. Snake had his pulled and almost brought to bear when Sam's bullet caught him square in the chest. A look of shock crossed Snake's face as he staggered back, tried again to bring up his gun as he was struck by Sam's second bullet.
Jaw clenched, Sam walked to the fallen man and knelt at his side. Snake looked up at him, his eyes filled with hate, then the expression faded, and there was nothing. Sam felt for a pulse but knew there would be none.
Death came sudden. No matter how many times he'd seen it, even the few times he'd dealt it out, it was nothing he took lightly. He sucked in a breath, wishing there'd been another way, but almost from the moment he'd met Snake Smith, they'd been on a road to this moment. More than ever, Sam saw the inevitability of destiny--of not being able to escape fate.
People came from the shade of the buildings to look at the dead man, then at Sam, as he slowly rose. One man, obviously as much authority as Tubac had, said, "I'll have to notify the marshal."
"Fine by me. Be sure and tell him what you saw."
The man nodded. "It was a fair fight."
Sam pulled a double eagle from his pocket. "This enough to see him buried?"
The man nodded. If he thought it strange that a man would kill another then pay for his burial, he kept any comments about that to himself.
"Have them put Bill Smith on the marker."
"He wanted for anything?" the man asked with his first sign of interest.
"If he was, you won't find out what now," Sam said, heading for the cantina. He felt a powerful thirst, one he knew alcohol wouldn't satisfy.
"I'll need your name,” the man called after him.
Sam told him, then entered the dark cantina. “Tequila,” he ordered, throwing two bits onto the counter as the bartender filled a small glass, even salted the rim. Sam heard a sharp exhale and looked at the other man who had been leaning on the bar. Sam smiled. “Reese, isn’t it?”
Reese's smile was sickly. "I didn't know you were out there."
