|
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
Strangely, now, she was little worried about Rock Bannon. He was hard, seemingly impervious to harm. Even now he might be over there across the valley. He might be killing her father, or her father might be shooting him. Twelve men had ridden away. Eight of them were settlers. Collins was dead and Dud Kitchen still too weak to ride, but the others had gone to a man. Mulholland, Satterfield, Pagones, Lamport, Purcell, Olsen and Greene. And, of course, her father. Then the rain came. A scattering of big drops, then the rolling wall of it. She turned and went inside. There were a few places where the roof was not too tight. She put pans under them, and lighted a light which she put on the table near the window. Her father's leg was still not too strong, and it worried her to think he was out there in all this. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, a tall girl with a great mass of red-gold hair done in two thick braids about her head, her face too pale, her eyes too large. She heard them coming before she saw them, and saw a horseman break away from the others and cross the grass, now worn thin from much travel. When the horse was stabled her father came in, stamping his feet and slipping out of the slicker. His gray hat was black with rain, and she took it close to the fire. The coffee was ready, and she poured a cup, then went for a bowl to get some soup for him. He sat down at the table sat down as suddenly as if his legs had been cut off, and she noticed with a sudden qualm that he looked old, tired. His eyes lifted to hers and he smiled wanly. "Guess I'm no fighting man, Sharon," he said. "I just wasn't cut out for it. When that man fell into the flames today, I nearly wilted." "Who was it?" she asked quickly. "One of our men?" "No, it was a teamster. One of the bunch that hangs around the saloon. His name was Osburn. We rushed the house, and one of the men inside opened fire. Wounded one of the men, first shot. We had the house surrounded, though, and would have had them in a few minutes; but then someone opened up on us from the cliff. "It was Bannon, I'm sure of that. He killed Hy Miller. Got him with his first shot, although how he saw him I can't imagine. Then he wounded Satterfield. Shot him through the leg, about like I was. This Osburn got on a Page 41 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html horse, and " His voice rambled on, and all she could think about was that her father was home, that her father was safe. When his voice died away and he was eating the hot soup, she said, "And Bannon? Was he hurt?" "No, he wasn't hurt. He never seems to get hurt. He's a hard man, Sharon." "But a good man, Father!" she said suddenly. "He's a good man. Oh, I wish things were different!" "Don't think it, Sharon," her father said, shaking his head. "He's not for you. He's a wild, ruthless man. A man who lives by the gun. Collins is dead, and by one of this man's friends, and they'll never let up now, nor will we. It's a war to the end." "But why, Father? Why?" Sharon's voice broke. "Oh, when I think that we might have gone by the other trail! We might have been in Oregon now. Sometimes I believe that everything Bannon ever said about Mort Harper was true. All we've done is to come on here into this trap, and now our oxen are gone, all but the two you use to plow, and we're in debt." "I know." Crockett stirred restlessly. "But it might have been as bad wherever we went. You must understand that. We may be mistaken in Mort. He's done what he could, and he's standing by us in this fight." The fire flickered and hissed with the falling drops of rain in the chimney, and Sharon crossed and knelt beside the fire, liking the warm feel of it on her knees. She sat there, staring into the flames, hearing the unrelenting thunder of the rain and wondering where he was. Where would it all end? That boy, Wes Freeman, slain in the hills. Then Collins, and now Miller. Dud Kitchen recovering from a wound. Jim Satterfield down, and the whole affair only beginning and no end in sight. The door opened suddenly and without warning, and she whirled, coming to her feet with her eyes wide. Disappointment swept over her, and then fear. Pete Zapata was closing the door after him. He was smiling at her, his queer, flat face wet with rain, his narrow rattler's eyes searching the corners of the room. "Not here?" he whispered hoarsely. "Purty soon, mebbe." "Who who do you mean?" she gasped. Her father was sitting up very straight, his eyes on the half-breed. Zapata glanced at him with thinly veiled contempt, then shrugged. "Who? That Rock Bannon. A few minutes ago he comes down the canyon on hees horse; now he ees here somewhere. Who knows? But soon he weel come here, and then " He smiled, showing his yellow teeth between thick lips. His eyes shifted from her to her father. "Eeef one speaks to warn heem, I keel the other one, you see? Huh?" Fear left her lips stiff, her eyes wide. Slowly, she turned back to the fire. Bannon would come here; Zapata was right. If Rock had come again to Poplar he would not leave without seeing her. He might come at any minute. She must think, she must somehow contrive to warn him. Page 42 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html The steel-dust stallion liked the dim, shallow cave in which Rock [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] |
Podobne
|