Rolling Thunder Page 6

  ‘Good,’ Julia said in a low, wooden voice and I just stared at her, turning my hat in my hands.

  ‘I don’t understand you.’

  ‘It’s good that she isn’t here to receive it,’ she said, turning her head slightly toward me.

  ‘She isn’t? Where did she go, Julia?’

  ‘No one knows that, do they?’ Then she bowed her face to her hands and began to weep. Through the rush of tears, she said, ‘She’s in her bed, Tom. She won’t have to receive any more bad news ever again. At about three this afternoon,’ she told me, wiping her nose with a small handkerchief, ‘Mother passed away.’

  ‘She …’ I found it hard to speak. Sadie had always seemed strong, indomitable despite the hardships she had endured. Another thought kept me in dumb amazement.

  It had been about three o’clock when Randall Holt had been lynched.

  ‘I’d better go ahead and tell you then,’ I said, drawing up a chair so that I faced Julia, and I went on, telling her about her brother. At one minute she was stony-faced, at the next she collapsed into sobbing. And, from time to time, I also saw in those green eyes, a flicker of anger – at me? the killers? the world? I could not say.

  After a while Julia’s outer grief subsided. I could not think of a thing to say to assuage her inner pain. ‘I’ll see to the burying in the morning,’ I told her. ‘What will you do, Julia?’

  ‘What is there to do?’ she asked with a small hysterical laugh.

  ‘You can’t stay here. Not any longer.’

  ‘No. But there is nowhere else.’ Her dejection was profound.

  ‘I’ll build a fire,’ I said, rising. ‘It’s going to be a chill night.’ Working with my hands kept my thoughts away from the tragedy of the family. Before bringing in firewood, I unsaddled and stabled my gray horse. Randall’s body I placed in the tool shed, latching it firmly to prevent any wild animal’s incursion. Then I gathered an armload of wood from the pile – which, I noticed was greatly depleted, returned to the house and built a fire.

  Julia had risen from the chair and was making coffee, her eyes haunted, her movements mechanical. I seated myself, watching her and the flickering fire alternately. When she returned with two tin cups of coffee, I broached the matter I had been considering.

  ‘You know you can’t stay here alone. You’re welcome to come up to my ranch, Julia.’

  She stared at the flames in the fireplace, crimson and gold, curling and twining among the logs. ‘That hardly seems proper,’ she commented at last.

  ‘Your brother, George, is up there. Toby Trammel and Barney Weber. You know them. You’ll be all right, much safer than you would be here alone. I can provide you with your own room … just until you can decide what it is you want to do next.’

  She sipped carefully at her coffee, her eyes shifting only once to me before returning to the mesmeric flames. ‘I’ll think it over, Tom,’ she said at last. ‘There really isn’t any place else, is there?’

  I spent the night in the room that George and Randall had shared as boys, anger at what had happened waking me at intervals. I rose in the cold of pre-dawn, nudged the fire to life and went to the shed to begin my unhappy chore.

  We started out at mid-morning, Julia riding her little pinto pony, leaving behind us an empty house and two more sad mounds of earth beside the grave of Tyler Holt.

  Just past noon we drew up in front of the stone house. Barney Weber, with his rifle in his hand, opened the door and stood there frowning as I took Julia’s little carpetbag containing her few belongings and helped her down from her horse.

  ‘Is George here?’ I asked.

  ‘Still asleep. He had the late shift.’

  Barney’s frown remained in place as he nodded and turned back into the house. I followed with Julia who looked around the house, now swept and scrubbed, actually looking better than when Gil and I had lived there alone. There was an Indian blanket hanging above the big stone fireplace, a few more scattered across the plank floor. The boys had cleaned their dishes off the table and washed them. Julia said nothing, just stood there, clutching her bag, but she seemed relieved. Maybe she had expected much worse.

  After a minute Barney returned, and behind him a tousled, sleep-drugged George Holt. He stiffened and came alert suddenly at the sight of his sister standing beside me.

  ‘Tom! What the hell are you thinking, bringing Julia up here?’

  ‘There was no choice,’ I said calmly, hearing the anger in George’s voice. ‘Why don’t you two go into my room where you can be alone. She’ll tell you about it.’

  Barney continued to eye me dubiously. I could read his thoughts. They were the same as George’s. What was I doing bringing a young woman up here when we all knew there was bound to be trouble? I didn’t bother to explain things to him just then.

  ‘Who’s out?’ I asked.

  ‘The Ford brothers are riding the perimeter. Toby was up late, too; he’s still in bed.’

  ‘All right. I’m going to find something to eat. Saddle up your pony. You and I will spell Big Will and Ben so that they can have some dinner.’

  Barney’s eyes were still fixed questioningly on me. He nodded and started toward the door, and at that moment we heard a high mournful wail that faded to a groan coming from my room. George knew now. Barney’s frown deepened further. I still told him nothing. The word would get around.

  I did say, ‘After you’ve seen to the horses, Barney, take my gear and toss it into the bunk room. I’ll be sleeping in Randall’s old bed. Julia’s taking my room.’ That seemed to ease his mind a little. I have no idea what he had been thinking, what George thought at first, but I was beyond caring. I went into the kitchen, scraped some cold biscuits out of the pan and poured myself a cup of coffee, watching the slash of cold sunlight that cut through the narrow slit window in the stone wall fall across the table and floor, dust motes dancing in its blue shaft.

  What now, I asked myself, brooding. I had boasted to and infuriated Pebbles. I had stirred up a hornet’s nest, but that was all I had accomplished. What were we to do now? Wait until a gang of armed men showed up to kill more of us, to keep us forted up until our supplies ran out – Toby and I hadn’t mule-packed up enough to last five men … and a woman, long. Men with rifles in the woods could even keep us from reaching the well in back of the house.

  Without conscious decision, I knew already what I had to do. I could not let them dictate the rules of battle. I had to take it to them.

  George appeared, looking haggard and beaten. His eyes were red, his movements were unsteady. I let him pour himself a cup of coffee and sit down. He was going to be of little use today, I knew.

  ‘Stay with your sister this morning, all right, George? Watch the place. Barney is going with me. Ben and Will should be riding in in about an hour.’ He only nodded, his elbows on the table, hands on his head. I felt like saying something of comfort, but I knew no appropriate words.

  ‘Do you mind if I take your black, George? My horse could use some rest.’

  He waved a hand unconcernedly, his thoughts deep and far away. The woman who had nursed him, dressed him, comforted him was gone. His brother was dead. The world was a bleak and lonely place. I rose from my chair, briefly put my hand on his slumped shoulder and reminded him:

  ‘You’ve got to take care of Julia now. You’re all she has.’

  I got little response. Barney had come back in a few minutes earlier. As I put on my hat and started out, I saw him taking my bedroll and a sackful of goods from my bedroom to the bunk room. I waited for his return.

  ‘Ready?’ I asked the freckle-faced kid.

  ‘I suppose …’ he hesitated, looking back down the hallway toward my room. ‘I just gathered up as much stuff I could see that was yours. I might have left something behind. Tom,’ he said lifting his doleful eyes to mine, ‘it’s awful to hear a woman cry like that, isn’t it?’

  Barney and I rode southward to relieve the Ford brothers. Barney’s trepidation had ret
urned. I couldn’t blame him a lot, but I couldn’t afford to just have him sitting around the house every day. I needed men willing to fight, and if he wasn’t, well, instead of asking him if he wanted to leave next time, I’d have to tell him that it would be best if he did.

  The storm clouds were still dark and thick above the high peaks, but I did not think it would rain. The wind was as cold as ever. George Holt’s little black horse – the one with the white stocking on its left foreleg, moved nimbly and eagerly underneath me. It was a little too slender in the legs for my liking, but I could see why a man would favor it.

  We met the Fords near the oak-grove where we had found Randall Holt hanging from a tree. Both of them looked weary, and that was one more problem that had to be solved. I couldn’t expect the men to stand night-watch and still be fresh for a day’s work the next morning.

  Both of the Fords were standing beside their horses, big Will with his hat tilted back, watching our approach. Ben appeared agitated about something, but he did not speak.

  ‘Nothin’,’ Will replied to my enquiry. ‘Only a few stragglers from the herd ranging about. Sooner or later they’ll realize that the rest of the cattle have drifted south and they’ll follow them.’

  ‘Any of the Peebles riders about?’ I asked.

  ‘No, Tom,’ Will told me, shrugging his heavy shoulders, ‘we haven’t seen a single man. Some horse-tracks along the dry creek, but they’re old, look like they’ve been there for days.’

  Ben at last gave voice to what had been troubling him. ‘Tom, why are we bothering any more? Peebles’s cattle have been hied south. Everyone is beat. We can fort up forever in your house, but it doesn’t look like anyone’s even coming, like they care. We’re short on supplies; we all know that. In a few days we’ll just be criss-crossing your land doing nothing at all, growing hungry.’

  From the expression on Will’s face I could tell that the brothers had been discussing this between them. Now Will did speak up.

  ‘It seems to us, Tom, that the conversation you had with Sheriff Langdon did the trick.’ His deep voice was almost apologetic. ‘They know now that you have every right to be here; that they don’t. I don’t think Peebles cares one way or the other. He knows you aren’t going to run cattle up here, that there’s nothing they need to do to run you off. After a while, after winter has settled in, you won’t even be able to support yourself, let alone hold onto the land.’

  ‘They’ll offer you a fair price for your land, Tom,’ Ben put in, ‘and you’ll have to take it. If you ask me, you’ve already won.’

  I studied the faces of Mary’s brothers. I had counted on them without realizing that they were not committed to my fight out of any sense of loyalty, but simply because it had been a paying job. Will looked down at his boots.

  ‘You boys going in to dinner?’ I asked, knowing what the answer would be.

  ‘No, Tom,’ Big Will said without looking up. ‘I guess we’ll be riding.’

  ‘What do you figure I owe you?’ I dug into the purse I carried inside my buffalo coat.

  ‘I don’t know, Tom …’ Will answered.

  ‘Two dollars a day?’

  ‘That’ll do it,’ big Will agreed. I thumbed a few silver dollars into my palm and placed them into Will’s thick, calloused hand. ‘Tom, we don’t want you to think—’

  ‘You did your work; you made your choice,’ I said coldly. Will nodded and both of the Ford brothers swung into leather, riding out through the cold dappled shade of the oaks. They had every right to go, but my chances of protecting my land if Peebles did decide to try to drive me off had just taken a huge setback.

  I was aware of Barney Weber shifting uncomfortably in his saddle, watching the Fords ride away. I looked into the freckle-faced boy’s eyes and I didn’t have to ask. Barney had been jittery since the first day. I said nothing. I opened my purse again and slid silver into his hand.

  ‘Tom, I’m sorry,’ he said nervously, ‘but you did tell me that if I was ever feeling that I was ready to ride away.…’

  ‘Yes, I did,’ I answered as gently as possible. ‘I told you there would be no shame attached, no hard feelings.’

  ‘Still, Tom.…’

  ‘Get on your way, saddle tramp,’ I said lightly. I smiled and slapped his pony’s rump, and with only a single glance back, he rode away, following in the tracks of Ben and Will Ford.

  I watched for a long minute and thought, I’m a hell of a general.

  I rode the southern line for a few hours, seeing nobody, no unusual tracks, then turned for home as the sun began to lower its bright face behind the dark mountains. In a bleak mood I put George’s horse up in the stable, paused to stroke the muzzle of my gray and walked to the house. The fire in the hearth was new and bright, burning almost smokelessly. Toby was up now, stretching and yawning at the table, coffee-cup before him. George, looking somewhat collected, but worried, watched me as I entered and barred the door. At the stove Julia, blue apron wrapped around her, her red hair pinned up, was watching a simmering stew bubble in the black iron pot. She glanced at me without making eye contact.

  ‘The boys never came in for dinner,’ George said worriedly as I seated myself on one of the kitchen chairs.

  ‘No,’ I had to tell them. ‘They pulled out. Barney, too.’

  ‘Barney!’ Toby said with astonishment that settled into disappointment. ‘All you did was try to help him out of the stables, Tom.’

  I shrugged. ‘He didn’t like the way things were shaping up.’

  ‘And Ben and big Will?’ George Holt asked tightly.

  ‘Same with them, I guess.’ I said, moving my elbow slightly as Julia placed a cup of fresh coffee on the table beside my arm. ‘They couldn’t see the logic in risking their necks for a fight that isn’t their own. I think that what happened to Randall brought it home to them.’ I looked at each of them in turn and said, ‘Nobody has to stay here – it’s my war.’

  With unexpected ferocity, Julia whirled toward me. Her hands were quivering, her green eyes sparking with intensity. ‘Your war!’ she exploded ‘What about me! What about George? We’ve lost a father, a mother, a brother. This is our war, too. We’re going nowhere. If you’d give me a shotgun, I’d ride with you, the same as my mother wanted to do the day after the night-riders overran us and killed Dad.’

  Her temper cooled slowly as she turned her back to us and returned to unnecessary kitchen chores. I was startled by the heat in her words, and found myself admiring the red-headed girl more and more. I smiled lopsidedly at George who still appeared shaken by recent events. He answered without looking at me.

  ‘Don’t even ask me, Tom,’ he said. ‘My sister said what I would have told you—’ he half-smiled, glancing her way ‘—if not in that way. I’m sticking, count on it.’

  Toby Trammel was tilted back in one of the wooden chairs. Lazily the blond wrangler said, ‘I already told you, Tom. You’d have to drive me away before I’d quit on you.’

  ‘All right, then,’ I said, standing before the low-burning fire for a while, staring at the curlicued flames. ‘Better draw some extra water from the well. There’s no telling what Peebles’s next move might be.’

  I walked to the gunrack and took down my left-hand holster and spare Colt, belting it on crosswise to the other. The three of them watched me silently. It was Julia who spoke.

  ‘Tom, what are you doing?’

  Just sprucing up a little. I can’t be attending an important function half-dressed.’

  SEVEN

  ‘You’re going into Stratton?’ Toby Trammel asked. He was already on his feet, reaching for his coat and hat.

  ‘Alone, Toby,’ I told him. ‘Three of you is barely enough to hold the fort here.’

  Toby looked doubtful. What I had said was true, but everyone knew that I alone was hardly a match for Peebles’s dozen hand-picked killers.

  George was obviously disturbed as well. ‘Tom,’ he said, ‘it’s a rough trail, and we have a late-rising mo
on these nights.’

  ‘I know. But I’ve ridden that trail more than any man in this country. My horse knows the way as well. Besides, having the moon behind me would only make my silhouette that much clearer. If there’s anyone down the trail looking for me, there’s a chance I can pass unseen.’

  ‘A chance …!’ George Holt said unhappily. Julia’s quiet voice interrupted him.

  ‘He’s going, George. His mind is made up, can’t you see? Once his mind is made up, there’s no point in trying to talk Tom Quinn out of anything.’

  She was right, of course, but it gave me pause to wonder why. Was I simply too bull-headed to listen to good advice offered with good intentions? I didn’t know. I saddled my gray horse in the gloom of night, carefully strapping my heavy saddle-bags on behind, with their explosive contents, and started south upon the long trail, my rifle riding loosely across the horse’s withers.

  The absence of moonlight caused the blanket of stars to shine brightly like clustered diamonds, visible even through the dark branches of the Douglas fir and blue spruce along the trail. The heavy scent of the pines was nearly smothering. There were no sounds but the gentle clopping of the gray’s hoofs, the creak of the trees swaying in the night wind, and once the astonishingly loud complaint of a low-swooping great horned owl.

  I had gone a mile from the house when the crack of a large-bore rifle shattered the silence of the mountain night. Almost simultaneously I saw the flash of red-yellow from the muzzle of a gun on the wooded slope above me.

  The bullet was near enough to tug the skirt of my buffalo-hide coat. I kicked out of the stirrups as the gray danced under me and I landed in a clumsy roll on the pine-needle-littered earth. I expected a second shot, a third, but none followed the first. Perhaps I had dropped out of their line of sight and now, in the moonless night, was merely another dark hummock against the forest floor. The gray had trotted on for a short distance. Now I saw it pause and look back at me wondering what sort of man-game this was that we were playing. As did I.