Conagher (1969) (14 page)

Still, it would be shelter of a kind. Bu t how far had he to go? And how far could h e go?

Going back was out of the question. Hi s horse was already played out, the sno w was getting deeper, and there was, in thi s bare plain, no place to stop. There was n o shelter from the wind, and the snow wa s too dry to build up a bank or to dig into it.

To go on until he could go no farthe r was dangerous, for with his body'
s resources drained, he would have n o strength to resist the cold. He knew tha t most of those who freeze to death do s o because they struggle too long. He coul d stop, huddle in a bundle, and try to wai t out the storm, but although he might an d probably would survive it, his horse woul d not. Their only hope was to go on, to try t o reach some shelter where a fire could b e built, and they could have protection fro m the wind and cold.

He never remembered when the win d fell. He had been struggling on, breakin g trail for his horse for what seemed a n interminable period, and suddenly h e realized the snow was no longer blowin g so much, the wind was dying down. Befor e him lay miles of white, unbroken snow.

The trail of the stolen cattle lay under it.

He plodded on, holding a hand over hi s nose, trying to keep his scarf across hi s face. Once again the horse fell, slipping o n an icy rock beneath the snow, and agai n Conagher got it up. Now he could see th e low black line of the hills, with a sta r hanging low in the sky.

A star? No, it was a light. It had to be a light, as low as that. He closed his eyes , took two steps forward and opened them.

The light was still there. He was no t dreaming.

Evie was serving hot soup to th e children when something fell against th e door. Putting the soup down hastily, sh e went to the door, hesitated a moment, the n opened it.

A snow-blurred, half-frozen man topple d into the room, fell to his knees, the n struggled up.

My horse
, he mumbled , my horse i s out there .

I'll get him
, Laban said, and went fo r his coat and mittens .
I'll put him up .

You'd better have some soup , Evi e said practically, and guided him to a plac e on a bench, not bothering to remove hi s outer clothing. Let him get warm first.

Her floor had been wet from melting sno w before this, and on a dirt floor it would be a trouble only briefly.

She put soup into a bowl and spoone d some of it into his mouth. After about th e third spoonful, he stopped her an d struggled to get off his gloves and his fu r cap.

Why, you're Mr. Conagher !
sh e exclaimed.

I reckon so, ma'am. . . . That sou p surely tastes good .
He started to rise.

Got to take care of my horse .

Let Laban do it. He's very good wit h animals, and he'll like doing it .

After a while Conagher stood up an d removed his sheepskin coat, and then sa t down again to finish the soup.

Two days
, he said .
It's the first I'v e eaten in two days. My grub played out , but I had coffee until this morning. Trie d to make some, but the wind blew out m y fire, blew my coffee into the snow .

Where did you come from ?

Ranch south of here. Away dow n yonder .

Laban came in while Conagher was o n his second bowl of soup .
I rubbed you r horse down, sir. I am sorry we have n o grain .

Conagher looked up and grinned .
Yo u feed that mustang grain and he'd recko n you was tryin' to poison him. Thank you , son. That horse has come a far piece .

It is bad weather to ride in .

I was folio win' some rustled cattle.

Lost the trail in the snow .

Evie looked at Laban, and Conaghe r caught her glance .
You seen any cows ?
h e asked.

Yes, sir, I saw some. I think they'r e being held in a corral over back of us, bac k in the mountains a few miles .

How many men
?

I don't know, sir. Maybe only a couple, but there might have bee n more .

We could send word by the nex t stage , Evie suggested , and the sherif f could ride over from the Plaza .

Ma'am, those cattle would be clea n gone out of the country by that time. No , ma'am, I figure the sheriff has a-plenty t o do without me causing him trouble. I'l l just mosey up there and start those cattl e back home .

She was silent for a few minutes an d then she said , If you could wait w e might get some help for you. It woul d only?

Mrs. Teale, a man who has to ask fo r help better not start out in the firs t place .

The heat was beginning to drive th e cold from his flesh, slowly sinking deepe r into his body, and as it did so he felt a vas t comfort and a sense of ease and wellbein g come over him.

Even as he began to grow sleepy h e became aware of the neatness of the cabin , the good manners of the children, and th e quiet sense of security.

Evie Teale brought him a plate of bee f and beans, and some baking-powde r biscuits, and he ate, almost falling aslee p in the process. When he had finishe d eating, Evie suggested that he unroll hi s blankets on the floor and sleep.

She stepped around him as she worked.

He was a lean, powerful man, taller bu t not much heavier than Jacob. How blac k his stubble of beard showed against hi s face!

This was the man who had given Kiow a Staples that awful beating, but he did no t look like a brutal man.

In the last hours of the night, she awok e suddenly and for an instant she lay quiet , wondering what had wakened her. Sh e thought she had felt a cold draft. . . she sa t up and looked toward where Conagher'
s bed had been.

It was gone, and Conagher was gone.

She lay down again, feeling a strang e sense of loss, of loneliness . . . but that wa s foolish. He was nothing to herjust a strange, lonely, violent man, and sh e would not be likely to see him again.

CONN CONAGHER rode out in the J
m orning, still tired though he ha d slept the night through on the dir t floor in the pleasantly warm cabin. But i t had been almost too com fortable for him.

When a man gets used to sleepin g wherever he can spread himself, he soon '
g ets to like it. When he left in the earl y hours before daylight he rode out becaus e he sim ply felt more comfortable in a saddle than in a house.

It was cold. The gelding had humped it s back against the saddle, liking the shelte r of the shed, flimsy as it was, but Conaghe r knew what he had to do. Before he got u p into the saddle he took out his pistol an d gave the cylinder a spin or two and trie d the action. So metimes the oil will stiffe n up when a gun has been out in the cold.

He tied his scarf around his face, tucked I n his ears unde r the earlaps, and rode int o the trees. There was deep snow excep t where the wind had swept the hillsid e clear, and he was not expecting an eas y time of it. But nobody likes to roll out a t daybreak on a cold morning, and outlaw s were even less likely to do it than workin g cowhands.

It took him two hours to struggl e through the heavy snow to where he coul d look into the basin. He saw a hollow wher e the wide-spreading branches of a couple o f big twin pines had kept the snow away an d formed a sort of shelter. He swung dow n and left the horse there while he went ou t on a point and bellied down among th e rocks.

With his field glass he studied the cabi n below.

The cattle were there. At that distanc e he couldn't make out the brands, but a cowman soon learns to recognize individua l cattle, just as a politician wil l recognize certain people in a crowd. Thes e were Seaborn Tay's cattle.

Conagher studied the ground. As nea r as he could make out, there had been littl e movement around the dugout. A thi n column of smoke came from the stovepip e that did for a chimney.

It seemed to be growing colder. The n Conagher realized that the wind wa s rising, coming right out of the north again.

Well, that was good. This outfit wasn'
t likely to go anywhere with those cattle i n this snow with a north wind rising.

He looked at the cabin again. He had n o sympathy for those men down there. The y were men not very unlike himself, but the y had chosen to steal rather than to work , and Conagher was a worker who believe d in an honest day for an honest dollar. H
e was going to take those cattle back to th e ranch, and that was all there was to it.

He got up and went back to his horse.

He considered a minute and then sai d aloud , The hell with it , and swung int o the leather.

He turned the gelding on angle dow n the slope, keeping on the blind side of th e dugout. He hoped there were no cracks i n the walls, but it was likely that they had al l been stopped up to keep out the cold.

He was feeling tough and mean with th e cold weather and the hard travel. H
e wasn't hunting trouble, but he just didn'
t give a damn. Bringing a few branches fro m a cedar, he rode up to the cabin close to th e chimney, which stuck out the side. Whe n he came alongside the dugout he spok e softly to his horse and stood up on th e saddle.

The gelding was well trained, and coul d be climbed on or over. Standing on th e saddle, Conagher stuffed greenery into th e stovepipe, then filled any spaces with som e extra tufts of the cedar.

He dropped down to the saddle, move d to the corner of the dugout, and waited.

Suddenly there was an explosion o f swearing and the door burst open, lettin g out a man in undershirt and pants wit h one boot on, the other in his hand. Th e other men piled out after him, coughin g and swearing, driven from their war m beds by the smoke, all of them angry, non e of them armed. Only one man had boot s on.

All right
!
Conagher called. He put a bullet into the ground at their feet an d charged his horse between them and th e door of the cabin. One man, struck by th e shoulder of the horse, went sprawling int o the snow.

Back up
!
Conagher ordered. He hel d the rifle in one hand and with the geldin g herded them back. One man made a dar t to get around him, and Conn struck him a back-hand blow with the rifle barrel tha t stretched him out in the snow .
Get ou t there and take down the bars !
he said.

I'll be damned if I will !
one ma n answered.

You'll be damned if you don't !

Conagher cocked the Winchester .
Yo u call it. I've had a damn long, cold ride, an d I'd just as soon leave the three of you her e for the wolves. Get on with it !

One of the men started to move slowly , after a quick glance at the others, and th e rest spread back, away from him.

Conagher turned his horse and rode a t the gate, just in time to see a man throw u p a Winchester to take aim. He had bee n sleeping in the lean-to.

Conagher, holding low, let go with hi s rifle. His first shot burned the man an d turned him, and Conagher fired again. H
e saw the rifle drop and, wheeling, he sho t again, this time using both hands, and th e man went plunging into the cabin door.

He fell across the threshold, slowl y drawing up one leg, and then he lay still.

Quietly Conagher said , You boy s better take down the bars .

And they did.

With his rifle he indicated one of th e men .
You haze them out, then stan d back .

When the cattle were outside, he tol d the men to line up, facing the pole corral , and had them put their hands against th e top rail. He swung down then and went u p to the wounded man in the corral an d collected his guns.

A bullet had glanced off the lean-t o doorpost and gone through the man'
s forearm, going in above the wrist an d emerging near the elbow. His right han d was out of action, and was bleeding badly.

Get out
!
Conagher booted him in th e rear and sent him out with the others. H
e thrust the man's six-shooter into his ow n waistband and put his Winchester into hi s saddle scabbard.

You goin' to let me bleed to death ?
t he man pleaded .
For God's sake, man !

You fool around with the band wagon , son , Conagher told him , and you'r e liable to get hit with the horn. You get u p against the fence and be glad I don't gutshoo t you .

He backed off, and with a side swin g knocked in the glass in the window of th e shack. Most of the smoke from the fire wa s out by now, but he looked around, sa w (there was nobody inside, and collected th e guns.

He threw their boots out into the snow.

Get 'em on
, he said. To one of the me n he said , You help the man with th e bloody arm. Better fix that arm up for him , too. A man bleeding like that's liable t o freeze to death .

What you doing to us ?

Don't hurry me. I might decide just t o shoot you instead of hangin' you, and I might turn you loose. I ain't made up m y mind .