Radigan (1958) (13 page)

Day came reluctantly, and Radigan tugged on his boots again and stirred about, making coffee and warming water for the horse. He ate some cold beef and drank scalding coffee, and finally, after warming the blanket over the fire, he saddled up and packed his bed.

In the cold, white light of early dawn he moved out into a world where everything had changed during the night. The black was a good mountain horse and he walked delicately, not trusting the snow.
He rode what he estimated to be six miles, riding north but pushed farther east by the terrain, and suddenly he came out of the trees and drew up looking over a magnificent bowl among the hills.

It was obviously what remained of 'a magnificent and gigantic volcanic crater. The floor of the valley was at least five hundred feet below the point where he sat his horse, and was surrounded by clumps of spruce and aspen that gave way to a thick growth of these trees mingled with stands of pine. In the summer this would be an enormous meadow, and looking away into the distance he could see it was at least twenty miles in length, or close to it. Within the crater there must be more than one hundred and fifty square miles of territory.

The black horse seemed as surprised as he himself, pricking its ears at the vast valley that lay below them. This was without doubt the same valley of which the Indians had told stories long ago.

Skirting the valley he found a way down to the bottom, and when he reached it he moved out across the snow. Near the cliffs the snow had drifted in spots, but for the most part the vast plain was but thinly covered. He scuffed the snow away and found the grass below was thick, cured on the stem, and good hay. While he looked around the black began to crop the brown grass.

Suddenly he realized this was the place he had been seek
ing
. Here he could graze a lot of cattle, and this rich grass would provide better feed than any of the lower prairies. Undoubtedly his own ranch lay only a few miles to the west ward, and within an easy drive of this place. There was a small stream that ran through the bottom of the valley, so water was no problem. He knew suddenly that this was where he would drift his own cattle if the fight became worse.

At the valley where their remuda was corralled he roped a fresh horse. John Child had been there since the snow, and Radigan trailed him back to their hideout through the darkening hours of the third day. He was within a short distance of the place when he heard a shell jacked into a chamber and he froze in place. "It's all right!" he yelled. "It's me!"

"I see you." It was Coker. He stepped down into the trail, a wide grin on his face.

"Come on up. You got comp'ny."

For an instant he felt like reining around and running for it, but there wasn't a chance. He was fairly caught between the walls of the canyon, plain to see against the new-fallen snow, and he knew that Coker would like nothing better than an excuse to kill him.

His hands were numb with cold or he might have tried for a gun. He put his right hand under his armpit to warm the fingers. There was yet time. And there was a chance. As long as he had a gun, there was a chance.

They were at the cave. He recognized the bulky body of Ross Wall, and a squat puncher named Jones who had been in the saloon at San Ysidro when Flynn had backed them down.

He was fairly caught.

John Child was there, seated against a wall, his hands tied behind him. And Gretchen was there, but her hands were untied and she was cooking.

"I was hopin' you wouldn't come back," Child commented. "Cold out there." He swung down stiffly. "We've had a snow. "

"Radigan." Ross Wall was brusque. "You've got feed stacked somewhere. We want to know where."

"Sorry." Coker grinned at him. "Ross, let me have him. I can get it from him."

Radigan merely glanced at him. "You couldn't get anything from me," he said. "I wouldn't give you the time of day." Wall interrupted Coker's reply with an impatient gesture.

"You've had it, Radigan. I can't do a thing for you. Maybe if you talk I can get these others off, but I'll tell you right now that we have orders to lose your body in one of those canyons north of here where nobody will find it."

"We had a visitor," Child commented. "Shut up!" Coker turned sharply around.

Gretchen sensed it was something Radigan should know. She looked up from the fire.

"He said he'd be back," she said. Coker turned on her angrily. "You, too! Shut your mouth!" Ross Wall glanced at Coker. "That'll do," he said. "You'll not talk to a lady that way."

"She's no lady," Coker retorted. "She's-!"

Gretchen grabbed a stick from the fire and swung the burn
ing
end at Coker's face.

He sprang back, but not fast enough and the stick caught him across the mouth. He staggered off balance and fell, crying out with pain and grasping his burned lips.

Gretchen stood up. "I'll cook for you," she said to Wall, "because you're hungry men, but I won't take any slander from such as he is."

Coker was moaning and holding his mouth. Wall merely glanced at him. "Go back to your cooking," he said.

She went back to the fire, and moved a pot more firmly into position on some stones in the fire. Then she said, "The man was Loren Pike. He said he and Charlie Cade were at Loma Coyote. "

Wall's eyes showed his sudden attention. "Did you say Loren Pike? The Ranger?"

"He was a Ranger," Radigan explained. "About the time I was. He left the outfit to settle a personal quarrel."

"What are they doing here?"

"Friends of mine. I told you I was a Ranger, too. Fact is, I wrote to the Rangers in Tascosa just the other day."

Radigan could see the idea did not please Ross Wall. The foreman walked to the mouth of' the cave where Radigan's horse still stood. For several minutes he stood there, staring down the darkening canyon, and Radigan watched him while Coker moaned and swore in a corner of the cave, holding his mouth with both hands.

Wall knew very well that many of the Rangers stuck together through thick and thin, and often after they had left the service they returned to help one another, and the thought gave him no pleasure. More than that, Loren Pike was a known man, a good man with a gun who had been active in running down cattle thieves. Moreover, he had been cousin to the Bannings with whom the Foley outfit had been feuding. Had he followed them?

"Who's Cade?" he asked.

"Friend of mine. We rode together, a year or two. If he don't find me here he's going to be mighty unhappy."

"What are two men?" It was the stocky puncher who spoke. "Either one of them would take your pelt and tack it on the barn door without raising a sweat," Radigan told him.

The more Ross Wall considered the situation the less he liked it. Handling Angelina Foley was bad enough, but after that slick-talking Harvey Thorpe came home there was no holding her, and the outfit had gone from one trouble to another. He knew little about her claim to the present land except that her father had always talked of a ranch he owned in New Mexico.

The snow would make feed a real problem, and unless they found the feed that Radigan had stacked against the bad months they were going to lose a lot of cattle. Matter of fact, they were going to lose some anyway.

Now this.

If those men were coming back they would have to be killed too, for they would ask questions that must not be asked. And they would know too much. Maybe they already knew.

"They know about this fight?" lie asked Child. "What d' you suppose we talked about?"

He might have guessed it. Still, it might be some time before they came back, and lie had heard of Loma Coyote. Suppose he detached four or five men to ride up there and ambush the two? But where would it end?
When a man tried to solve his problems with a killing it always led to still another.
He swore softly, looking out at the gathering night, know
ing
there would have to be a showdown with Thorpe, and not relishing the thought.

Wall had his orders. Find Tom Radigan and get rid of him. Get rid of him so he could never be found again. And that was all very well, but with such men as Pike and Cade involved, the disappearance of Radigan might easily begin another blood feud. How could a man make a ranch pay under such circum stances? He stared
down canyon
gloomily.

For that matter, how could anyone make a ranch pay in this country? Radigan said he knew how, but Ross Wall had heard men talk big before.

Gretchen took the first plate of food to Radigan, and the second to John Child, placing it on the ground and then coolly untying his hands.

Child chafed his hands and wrists, glancing over at Radigan who sat quietly. The squat puncher was watching them with a rifle across his knees. Ross Wall turned and walked back into the cave, accepting his food with a quiet thanks, and staring at it somberly before he started to eat.

Radigan had been disarmed, but his weapons lay across from him within easy reach, almost as if lie were being tempted to try for them. From Coker's earlier attitude and the manner of the others now, Radigan was sure lie was marked for death and, in fact, could see no other alternative for the Foley outfit. He moved with great care, always keeping his hands in view, and while he ate lie was thinking, working around the herd of' his thoughts trying to get it rope on the one he needed . . . a way out.

So far they had come off second best in the fighting, but that was pure unadulterated luck, as he would have been the first to admit. He had thrown his shots at the horses with only hope that they would land and that they had done what he hoped had been the purest chance.

Flynn had kept him out of a bad spot in San Ysidro, and his flight into the mountains and the subsequent snow had helped to get him away from the fight scot-free. He was under no illusions as to the outcome of such a fight if everything else went as it usually did.

A cold wind was blowing from the north. "This wind holds, you'll have a drift, your cattle will drift clean out of the country." Wall shot him a sullen glance and made no reply. Trust a cattleman to be thinking of that.

Radigan finished his meal, accepted more coffee, and began to roll a smoke. He wanted to keep his hands free, and wanted Child's free, so he tried to keep Wall thinking, worrying. "Look, Ross," he said conversationally, "why not let the herd drift? Why don't you boys follow it out of the country? This is a fight you can't win, and if you kill us, how will you find the feed? Believe me, you can look for a long time, and unless you're mighty lucky, you'd not find it, and you know as well as I do that you're working on a mighty slim margin."

He paused and, lifting the cigarette to his lips, shot a glance at the nearest gun, and knew it was too far. But the cowhand named Coker was close. He was not eating, but had rubbed some grease on his burned and swollen lips. If he could drop on his side and grab Coker, reaching around him for his gun, he might manage it. But the chance was too great.

"Take it from me, Loren Pike and Charlie Cade will be back, and Cade owes a lot to me. So does Pike. They won't come riding into a trap, either. They'll come riding down here expect
ing
a full-scale war, and they'll be loaded for bear.

"Why, Ross, up there at Loma Coyote there's eight or ten of the toughest fighting men in the country, and all they need to know is there's some cattle down here they can have for the taking, and they'll trail along with Loren Pike.

"You ever hear of Adam Stark? He's the best rifle shot in this part of the country.

Out of Tennessee by way of Texas, and a good man anywhere. Well, Adam is up there at Loma Coyote, and he's been itching to get into this fight. Ask John Child there-he's a close friend of John's-and he's been wanting to come down.

Figure it out for yourself. These boys know the terrain, they know cattle, and you can just bet that whatever cattle get through the winter will be driven off.

"You know something, Ross? All those brands don't look so good, and I've been wondering how they'd look if a man skinned one of those steers and checked that brand from the back of the hide. I'm wondering what brand would show up."

"Shut up!" Ross Wall turned angrily. "You talk too damn' much!"

"I'll shut him up," Coker said. "You just give me the word, and I'll shut him up!"

He mumbled the words through puffed lips. "I'll kill him!"

The fire crackled, and outside the snow fell steadily. No use trying a break now, for a man could be tracked easily unless he had a good enough start for the snow to fill his tracks. There was nothing to do but to wait, and Radigan settled back.

He was good at waiting, better than any Indian, as John Child had often said. Well, this was a time to see just how good he was. Moreover, he was beginning to get an idea of how he could handle the situation, just a glimmer of an idea.

Firelight flickered on their faces, gleamed on gun barrels and buckles, and outside the snow fell softly into the cushiony silence. The opening of the overhang was a black wall streaked with the slow fall of snow. Ross Wall stared gloomily into the fire and Radigan had noted the habit before and filed it for future reference. A man who stares into a fire is blind when he looks into the darkness, for a moment at least. And who needed more?