Taggart (1959) (23 page)

He waddled away and they looked at each other and laughed. Miriam felt herself blushin
g
and looked at her plate. Her fingers were twisted together in her lap, and suddenl
y
she was embarrassed before this man in whose company she had been for days ... an
d
nights.

In one way, you could even say they had slept together. At the thought she blushe
d
again, worse than before. It was nothing like that. Only they were together, an
d
they had slept. A little, anyway.

They ate in silence. Swante Taggart was a man who appreciated food, and the coffe
e
was just right, he decided. You could float a horse shoe in it. Dump in plenty o
f
coffee, wet it down, and boil it. That was the way to make it. Best coffee was alway
s
made in an old tin pail.

The waiter came over as they finished eating. He had a huge apple pie which he place
d
on the table. "Honor of the occasion," he said. "First time I had two such good-lookin'
w
omen in here as you an' that Mex gal that was just in here."

He stared at Miriam and then at Taggart. "You and him sur
e
are lucky. Ain't but three single women in Globe right now, and one of them is ol
d
enough to be Andy Jackson's grandmother. "

When they went outside the stage rolled into town. The relief driver came out o
f
a shack stuffing his shirt into his pants with one hand and carrying a gun belt i
n
the other. "Wonder they wouldn't wake a man up," he growled. He glanced at the Starks
,
at Taggart, and Miriam. "You passengers?"

Without waiting for an answer, he watched them hook the traces of the fresh team.

They looked wild and eager, bronco mules and bad ones.

Then he crossed to the BEDS and shook the snoring agent down for his keys. He wakene
d
him, but without waiting for him or expecting him to follow, he crossed to the statio
n
and opened the door and unlocked the big iron safe.

With Taggart helping, the gold was loaded. The two girls got in and Stark waite
d
outside. Taggart put the last sack into the boot.

An oldish man with a yellowed mustache appeared and climbed up to the seat. He wa
s
the express messenger. He seated himself and cradled a shotgun across his knees
,
directing a hard look at Taggart and Stark. Taggart stepped into the saddle and Star
k
mounted up. The stage driver cracked his whip and yelled, and the mules lunged int
o
their harness as if the devil had lit fires under them. They took off for the south.

It was a quiet ride, those first few miles. Taggart and Stark were tired after th
e
long night with little sleep, and the sun was warm. They dozed in the saddle, rouse
d
themselves to look around, and then dozed again. Gradually, they fell back.

The road at first followed the bed of Pinal Creek, shaded by oak, sycamore, and cottonwood
,
then it wound upward through the green Pinal Mountains. Many tiny streams fell fro
m
rocky crevices, sometimes tumbling a hundred feet. Finally they came down to th
e
valley where Dripping Springs Station was located. Beyond lay the barren, rugge
d
slopes of the Mescals, red and russet in the evening sun.

The stage rolled up to the long, low station and came to
a
halt. A few minutes later, Adam Stark, stiff from his bruised and battered muscles
,
rode up, and behind him came Swante Taggart.

Taggart swung down. Suddenly he realized he was dead tired. The excitement and pressur
e
of the weeks past were catching up with him, and he leaned heavily against the hors
e
for a minute or two before he shook off his weariness and went about stabling hi
s
horse.

There was a shed stable here, and corrals. He led the steeldust to a stall and tie
d
him there, and forked hay into the manger. Miriam had climbed down from the stag
e
and was standin
g
alone near it. Consuelo had gone inside, and Adam was talking to the mustached expres
s
messenger.

The sun was just going down; the sky was bright and the air clear. Somewhere ou
t
through the last of the trees, a quail called. And when Pete Shoyer stepped aroun
d
the corner of the stage station Swante Taggart saw him at once.

They faced each other across a hundred feet and there was no doubt in the mind o
f
either that this was the moment. Swante Taggart had a fleeting thought that it coul
d
not have been at a worse time for him, tired as he was, but he knew this was it.

He could hear water falling somewhere, and the horses munching hay in the mangers.

A large, drowsy fly buzzed somewhere nearby. These sounds seemed strangely clear.

A horse stamped and Miriam turned slowly, her eyes on Taggart. Then she stifled
a
gasp as she saw Pete Shoyer. Adam Stark appeared on the porch and with him was Consuelo.

Shoyer had taken a step forward. "I'm takin' you in, Taggart!" he said loudly.

"Why, come and take me then," Taggart replied, and watched Shoyer come toward him.

Then suddenly Shoyer's head thrust forward and his right hand dropped, but as i
t
dropped Taggart took a fast step to the right and drew as he moved. He felt the heav
y
gun swing up, felt the jolt of the shot, and then another jolt as he was spun around.

He started to fall, but stiffened his knees and fired a second time. Shoyer seeme
d
hazy, a difficult target. Another shot struck him and a third kicked up dust at hi
s
feet. Taggart ran three light, fast steps to the right and fired again.

Then he fell. He smelled dust and blood and knew he was down. He heard the blas
t
of a gun. Dust was kicked into his face and he rolled over into a sitting positio
n
and, lifting his six-shooter, he shot into Shoyer's body, firing once, then again.

A bullet whiffed past Taggart's face and he began to thumb shells into his gun, an
d
then he got to his knees and started to rise. His leg buckled under him and he fel
l
again, feeling a bullet pass him as he went down. And then he shot upward from
a
prone position, rolled over and got up, all the way this time.

There was blood on his face and he could taste blood in his mouth, and he felt
a
strange weakness in his body. He held his gun ready as he looked around slowly, tryin
g
to place Shoyer, but he could not find him. Miriam was grasping his arm and crying
,
and he was trying to shake her off, sure she would be killed.

Then he saw Pete Shoyer. The gunman was sprawled on the adobe soil near the corne
r
of the stage station. Taggart lifted his gun.

"It's all right," Stark was saying. "He's dead."

"Who killed him then?" Taggart demanded. "This was my fight. I--

He felt himself slipping; he tried to lift his gun. But as he fell he heard Ada
m
Stark say, "Why, you killed him, man, and a good job it was, too."

There was an arm under his head and he heard someone sobbing. He felt his shift tor
n
open, and someone else was tearing his pants leg. He wished they would go away. Besides
,
this was the last pair of pants he had.

He heard himself speaking. "Adam," he said, "I would like to ask the hand of you
r
sister in marriage."

There was a moment then when he was aware of nothing
,
and when he opened his eyes later they were all around him and he wa
s
on a table in the stage station.

"I asked a question," he said.

"And I answered," Miriam said, "I give myself to you." "This is between men," Taggar
t
replied. "It was your brother I asked."

"Why, yes," Adam said, "she could go far and not find so much of a man. I'll giv
e
her to you on condition you join us on the ranch we'll find somewhere near Tucson.

We will need a man who knows cows."

Taggart turned his head stiffly. His skull throbbed heavily and he knew he must hav
e
been hit there, too, but he felt very much alive. "All right then," he said to Miriam
,
"I accept your acceptance. We will be married then, and if there is any beauty afte
r
this that I can bring to you, it shall be yours."

He was delirious, he decided, but it was not a bad way to be. He was delirious o
r
he was happy, or he was both, and he put his head back on the table.

"Here's his gun," somebody said. "I've put his horse in the stable."

His horse and his gun, he thought. It was all he had when he rode up to the canyo
n
of the chapel, and now he still had his horse and his gun, but he also had a woma
n
and a friend.