How the West Was Won (1963) (36 page)

He started forward and fell. Something was wrong with his leg. He caught hold of a boulder and held himself there an instant. Gant seemed to have disappeared. No ... there he was, off to the left.

Zeb Rawlings turned with great effort, felt a bullet splash rock near him, lifted his gun, and squeezed the trigger. The gun leaped in his hand, and he saw Gant's shirt flower with crimson.

Zeb hobbled a step nearer, and brought the gun up again. Gant disappeared among the rocks, not twenty feet away. Zeb started forward again, and then everything seemed to blaze with a hot bright light, and he fell forward, striking the sand with his mouth open. He tried to close his mouth, but it was half filled with sand. He gripped his pistol and rolled over on his back, spitting sand. The blazing sun was on his face, in his eyes.

Suddenly a figure loomed over him. It was Charlie Gant, bloody, wild, desperate ... but on his feet.

He looked down at Rawlings, and a queer light came into his eyes.

Bad luck, he muttered. You always were bad luck for me. Every time ... His words trailed off, and Zeb Rawlings with a tremendous effort of will brought his gunhand around as Gant started to bring his gun up. Rawlings pointed the gun up at Gant and fired and fired, and fired again. He felt the gun blasting in his hand, rather than heard it, for there was a fast roaring in his ears. He felt something fall against him, and then his gun was empty and a terrible weight seemed pressing him down. Is he dead? He heard someone ask the question, and someone else replied: I don't know ... but Charlie Gant is.

Chapter
25

The wagon and the horse were standing in front of the hotel when Zeb Rawlings came downstairs. He walked very slowly, because he still felt shaky, but it was good to step outside into the early morning sun. He stood very still, just soaking the warmth into his body.

Aunt Lilith came down with Julie, both of them elegant in traveling costumes-Aunt Lilith in her tailored gray, and Julie in one made over from one of Lilith's. Zeb watched them with admiration. Two handsomer women a man never saw. Julie stepped aside to hold the door open for Stover, who came out with Aunt Lil's trunk on his back. He lowered it carefully into the wagon bed, and pushed it along to a good spot, then returned for the rest of her luggage. Aunt Lil might be far from a girl, but men still put themselves out to do things for her.

Thanks, Stover, Zeb said. Nice of you to lend a hand. If you'd tried to handle that trunk, Stover said, you'd probably have opened those wounds again.

Why we leavin' so early, pa? Linus asked.

We've a long way to go, Linus, but we're making the best trip a man can ever make.

How's that?

Why, we're going home! When you've lived without one as long as I have, son, you'll know what music there is in the word.

Zeb helped Julie to the wagon seat, and then Lilith. The boys scrambled in the back with their sister, close behind the seat on a pile of hay and blankets. Zeb hesitated just a moment before stepping up into the wagon, and Julie affected not to notice. His wounds had left him drained of strength and weaker than he liked to admit, but once on the ranch, with plenty of sunshine, fresh air, and brown beans, he'd come out of it. Zeb spoke to the horse and turned the wagon around in the street.

Stover lifted his hat. Bye, folks! Come up your ways I'll sure enough drop in.

You do that, Julie said.

The wagon rolled down the dusty street, past the sleeping buildings, and then began the long S curve of the trail out of town. Sam moved ahead easily, undisturbed by the wagon behind him. At the brow of the hill Zeb drew rein to let Sam catch his wind, and looked back. Smoke trailed up from a few chimneys, and in front of the hotel there seemed to be some kind of confusion. Several riders were in the street, others gathering. Wonder what's going on down there? he said thoughtfully. Now, I- Whatever it is, Julie said firmly, it's none of our business! Zeb glanced back once more, then spoke to Sam and the horse started on, walking with easy strides.

Suddenly from behind there was a rush of horses' hoofs and Zeb, reaching for his Winchester, turned so sharply it brought a twinge to his face. A good two dozen riders rushed up, surrounding the wagon. Might have told us you were pullin' out, Ramsey said, smiling at him. What's the matter?

Why, folks around town figured you'd brought the only excitement into town in months. You've given us something to celebrate, something to shout about! You wiped out the Charlie Gant gang and we're shut of outlaws, now, for a while, anyhow-You done it!

Now, just a minute, Lou! I didn't--

Brought you a present, Zeb. Something to take along. The boys took up a collection.

He took a rifle boot from his saddle, a new, hand-tooled leather boot, and from it he drew a Winchester 76, the action engraved and inlaid with gold. On it were the words, Compliments of the Gold City Mining Company & Citizens. It was a beautiful firearm. Taking it, Zeb turned it over and over in his hands, lifted the butt to his shoulder.

Thanks, boys, he said quietly. Many thanks.

Long after the riders had turned hack, the spell of their presence remained.

Does a man good, Zeb said finally.

You're respected, Julie replied quietly. We may not have much, but you're a respected man.

How much farther to the ranch, pa? Linus asked.

The next bend and across the valley beyond. You just keep watching for it. Linus started to hum the tune of A Home in the Meadow, and Lilith, caught by the memory of it, began to sing with him, and the others joined in. Come! Come! Through a wondrous land! For the hopeful heart! For the willing hand!

Her voice rang loud, as old Zebulon's had back at the Erie Canal. Zeb chuckled. You boys will have to sing louder to keep up with your Aunt Lilith.

I sang that song a good many years ago when leaving the Erie Canal ... or leave on the Erie Canal, I should say. Folks all along the canal joined in.

Away, away, come away with me,

Where the grass grows wild,

Where the winds blow free.

Away, away, come away with me,

And I'll build you a home in the meadow.

Giddap, Sam, Zeb Rawlings said. We're goin' home.

About the Author

I think of myself in the oral tradition - of a troubadour, a village taleteller, the man in the shadows of the campfire. That's the way I'd like to be remembered - as a storyteller. A good storyteller.

It is doubtful that any author could be as at home in the world recreated in his novels as Louis Dearborn L'Amour. Not only could he physically fill the boots of the rugged characters he wrote about, but he literally walked the land my characters walk. His personal experiences as well as his lifelong devotion to historical research combined to give Mr. L'Amour the unique knowledge and understanding of people, events, and the challenge of the American frontier that became the hallmarks of his popularity.

Of French-Irish descent, Mr. L'Amour could trace his own family in North America back to the early 1600s and follow their steady progression westward, always on the frontier. As a boy growing up in Jamestown, North Dakota, he absorbed all he could about his family's frontier heritage, including the story of his great-grandfather who was scalped by Sioux warriors. Spurred by an eager curiosity and desire to broaden his horizons, Mr. L'Amour left home at the age of fifteen and enjoyed a wide variety of jobs including seaman, lumberjack, elephant handler, skinner of dead cattle, assessment miner, and officer on tank destroyers during World War II. During his yondering days he also circled the world on a freighter, sailed a dhow on the Red Sea, was shipwrecked in the West Indies and stranded in the Mojave Desert. He won fifty-one of fifty-nine fights as a professional boxer and worked as a journalist and lecturer. He was a voracious reader and collector of rare books. His personal library contained 17,000 volumes.

Mr. L'Amour wanted to write almost from the time I could talk. After developing a widespread following for his many frontier and adventure stories written for fiction magazines, Mr. L'Amour published his first full-length novel, Hondo, in the United States in 1953. Every one of his more than 100 books is in print; there are nearly 230 million copies of his books in print worldwide, making him one of the best-selling authors in modern literary history. His books have been translated into twenty languages, and more than forty-five of his novels and stories have been made into feature films and television movies.

His hardcover bestsellers include The Lonesome Gods, The Walking Drum (his twelfth-century historical novel) Jubal Sackett, Last of the Breed, and The Haunted Mesa. His memoir, Education of a Wandering Man, was a leading bestseller in 1989. Audio dramatizations and adaptations of many L'Amour stories are available on cassette tapes from Bantam Audio Publishing. The recipient of many great honors and awards, in 1983 Mr. L'Amour became the first novelist ever to be awarded the Congressional Gold Medal by the United States Congress in honor of his life's work. In 1984 he was also awarded the Medal of Freedom by President Reagan.

Louis L'Amour died on June 10, 1988. His wife, Kathy, and their two children, Beau and Angelique, carry the L'Amour tradition forward with new books written by the author during his lifetime to be published by Bantam well into the nineties - among them, four Hopalong Cassidy novels: The Rustlers of West Fork, The Trail to Seven Pines, The Riders of High Rock, and Trouble Shooter.

[08 Jun 2002] Scanned by pandor

[16 Sep 2002] (v1.0) proofed and formatted by NickL