Milo Talon (22 page)

“Do you think they will follow us?”

“Uh-huh. You just bet they will. They’ll try to guess where we’re headed and then try to head us off. That’s where we have to outguess them. We’ve got to build an idea in their minds so they’ll believe they know where we’re going, then go somewhere else.”

“I could come to hate them!”

“Don’t. Isn’t worth it, Molly. I don’t hate anybody and never have. A man does what he has to do, and sometimes it’s not what I believe he should do. There’s no reason to use up energy hating him for it. Shoot him if you have to, but don’t hate him.”

“You’re a strange man.”

“Not really. I’m just a kind of simple one, that’s all. If a man comes at me, I defend myself. If he hunts me, I figure I can hunt some myself.

“Now we’re going to rest some. Before daybreak we will ride out of here and head due north. We’ll ride west of Gobbler’s Knob and on up past Hardscrabble Mountain. I don’t know these mountains that well, but there’s a trail runs down Oak Creek. That’s where we’re headed.”

We’re headed that way, I told myself, but we aren’t going that way.

We bedded down on pine needles and grass, and nobody had to worry about us sleeping. We did a good job of it for the time we had, but before daybreak we were on our way.

It was cold and dark when we arose. Brushing off the pine needles and leaving Molly to herself, I went off to the small meadow and pulled the picket-pins, then led the horses to water. While they drank I stood shivering in the morning cold and looking at the last reluctant stars.

My mount lifted his head, water dripping from his muzzle. “Come on, boy,” I said quietly, “we’ve got a long day ahead of us.” He turned his head toward me and pushed at me with his nose and I rubbed him between the ears. They were fine animals and I would regret releasing them, which we must do. Already she might have brought charges of horse stealing against us.

Molly watched me saddle up. “Milo? Will we get away?”

“We will,” I said and wished I was as confident as I tried to sound. There were too many of them, and they knew the country better.

Leading off at a good pace, I rode until we were abreast of Gobbler’s Knob, although some distance away, before I veered slightly to the west to round the shoulder of the mountain that lay ahead.

There was no wind and no sound but the soft hooffalls of our horses. Suddenly I switched our route—no use making it too easy for them—and rode into Junkins Creek and held to it as much as possible for a
good two miles. Coming up out of the streambed. I led the way over a saddle into the basin of the Hardscrabble. With Bear Mountain looming over us we stopped for a nooning, a bit shy of the hour. There was water and grass, so we ate a little food ourselves and let the horses rest.

We’d passed scarcely a word since riding out. She was scared, and so was I. Scared for her more than me, but I knew when they came up to us, as they would, there’d be some shooting, and I was one man against only God knew how many.

The coolness was gone when we mounted up. Now I began to be careful, leaving them as few tracks as possible and careful to have those heading north and a mite east. I was hoping they’d figure I was heading for Oak Creek and the trail to Canon City.

At the mouth of the canyon I left some tracks for them, not too obvious, but indications we’d gone down the Oak Creek Trail. We rode a half mile up the creek then came back by a different route, riding in the creek or wiping out what tracks we made and sifting dust and leaves over the ground.

We skirted the base of Curley Peak, followed Grape Creek a ways, and then turned up another creek that came down from the west. We were dead tired and so were our horses. So far we had seen nobody, although twice we had startled deer.

Suddenly my mount’s ears went up and a moment later I heard it.

Right ahead of us, not fifty feet away, a man and a woman, talking!

A
S WE SAW them, they turned their heads and saw us. There was no help for it, so we rode on up to them.

Their eyes went from one to the other, then to our horses. They were western people and nobody was needed to draw them a picture.

“Sir,” I taken off my hat, “an’ ma’am? We’re in trouble, mighty serious trouble. We need some grub and we need fresh horses.

“These,” I added, “are not ours. We’ve got to turn them loose to find their way home.”

For a moment they hesitated, then the man said, “The house is yonder. You ride over and we’ll be right behind you.”

As we drew up in the yard of the ranch house, Molly said, “Milo? What will we do?”

“Be ourselves. Tell them the truth. Nothing was ever gained by lying but the risk of more lies.”

We stepped down, me helping her from the saddle. For a moment she clung to me. “Milo, I’m beat. I can’t do it.”

“We’ve no choice. We get out of here if we have to walk. Stay here and we’ll have these folks pulled into trouble.”

Stripping the gear from the horses, I turned them
into the corral. “Better let them drink and eat a mite,” I said.

“Might as well go inside,” the man said. “Bess will fix you some grub.”

“I’ll need a couple of horses,” I said, “and I can buy them.”

He gave me a straight, hard look then said, “We’ll talk after we’ve et.” He ducked his head at our horses. “Where’d you get those?”

“They belong to Maggie. Woman runs a restaurant off down the way. Owned by she, German Schafer, and the young lady, yonder.”

“She’s not your wife?”

“No, sir. She’s a friend, I’d say. A young lady in trouble.” I taken off my hat and wiped my brow, then the hatband. “Only fair to tell you, it’s shooting trouble.” At his expression I shook my head quickly. “Not woman trouble. It’s money trouble. If they catch her, they’ll kill her.”

“And you?”

“Sure. They’ve got my number up, too. I’m used to it, and she ain’t. I been shot at a few times, here and there.”

He looked at my six-shooter. “Can you use that?”

“I reckon.”

Molly had gone inside and I followed. Molly was nowhere to be seen but the woman was fixing something at the stove.

She turned and looked at me out of very beautiful eyes. She had graying hair but she was still a handsome woman, and kindly, by the look of her.

“Are you in love with her?”

Me, I was startled. “Well, now, ma’am, we been on
the run. There’s been no time to take stock, even to talk much.”

“She’s very lovely. It’s the kind of beauty that grows on one.”

“Yes, ma’am, she’s right pretty. Only I’m a drifting man. I’m loose-footed, don’t belong nowhere. You show me a trail and I got to follow it wherever it goes. That’s no life for a woman.”

“My husband was that way. And he’s made a good husband.”

Now all this here talk was making me uneasy. If Molly hadn’t been in such a sight of trouble I’d have taken out, right then, right fast.

“You’ve got a nice place here,” I said.

“We made it nice. The two of us, together.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I looked around. “You got a basin where I could wash up?”

“By the back door. There’s a towel there, and there’s soap.”

When I went outside to wash up for supper, the man was leading two horses up from the stable. Our gear was already on them. He tied them at the hitch rail. “You might have to leave fast,” he said.

“How much do I owe you?” I said.

He shrugged. “Sixty dollars a head if you want to buy them. If you want to use them, just turn them loose. They’ll come home.”

“I’ll buy.” I let him lead the way back inside, trusting no man behind me at such a time. His wife was putting some food on the table and Molly was pouring coffee.

Taking money from my pocket, I counted out one hundred and twenty dollars in gold coins. He stared at
them, and then at me. “Not often we see gold hereabouts,” he said.

“It’s honest money,” I said, “and mighty little of it left.”

Now that wasn’t true but I didn’t figure to let anybody have an idea I was carrying. Even some folks you’d expect to be honest can become greedy at such a time. I like people, but I count my change and I always cut the deck.

Yet resting awhile was a pleasant thing. Theirs was a comfortable place, with window curtains and rag rugs on the floor and all the dishes washed clean and shining. The floors looked like a body could eat from them, although I’ve no idea why anybody would want to.

Molly was talking to them and I was considering. We’d come a far piece and we’d held to it pretty well, but I’d no doubt those chasing us were far behind. It was likely that some of them had ridden right up the road to Canon City, which was the town nearest and the one we’d be likely to ride for if we wanted help from the law. They’d try to intercept us there. Only I had no such idea.

Molly was an easy talking girl and in her world there were no strangers. I kept thinking how she and Ma would get along and what company she’d be for Ma, but I shied away from the thought. Ideas like that are a trap. They can get a man into trouble. There were a lot of horizons I wanted to cross before I got into double harness.

“If you wanted to double back,” the old gent was saying, “you could head north for Lookout Mountain, then follow Copper Gulch. Headin’ north you are apt to get yourself cornered.”

“How’s that?”

“Royal Gorge. It’s a thousand feet deep and right across your trail. Canon City’s right at the mouth.”

Now I just sat there, cussing myself for a damn fool. Shows a man how forgetful he can become. I’d known about that gorge for years and then had clean forgotten it. How could a man forget anything as big and deep as that gorge?

“These men know this country?”

“Seems likely.”

“Then they’ll be waiting for you at Grape Creek and Copper Gulch. Least, that’s the way to figure.”

He was right, of course. I finished eating, trying to think our way out of it.

“If you go north to Lookout,” the old man said, “you can take Road Gulch east to Texas Creek. That’s your best bet.”

Getting up, coffee in hand, I walked to the door. Turning there I said, “You’d better forget you ever saw us. They’ll find our tracks, so just tell them you and the wife weren’t at home, that we took a couple of horses and left.”

“I don’t like to lie.”

“Mister, some of these men would stop at nothing, torture and murder included. The best way is for you to know nothing except that you missed some horses and grub.”

“Well, all right. I’ll give it thought.”

Molly’s eyes met mine and she got up. She was tired but so was I, and we’d only started running. Now we had fresh horses and I had a new idea. A damned fool idea, but maybe a good one.

Molly came out, saying good-bye, and I gave her a hand to the saddle. I didn’t envy her, riding sidesaddle over all that rough country, but she’d handled it mighty well.

We took off, heading toward Lookout Mountain, and when we glanced back, they waved.

D
ICKIE?” THE WOMAN with the lovely blue eyes was thoughtful. “Did you see how thick in the waist that young man was? Seems odd, somehow, a young man like him, so neat and trim except for that thick waist.”

“A money belt, more than likely, Bess. He paid us in gold, off-hand like. I mean, not like giving up his last cent. More like a man who knew what he had and wasn’t worried about money.”

“Of course, there’s that little ol’ trail by way of Gem Mountain. You didn’t think to mention that to him.”

“Man on a good horse, like the sorrel, he could get to the Road Gulch near Texas Creek maybe a half hour before them.”

“You could have your lunch there, Dickie. I’ll just fix it for you while you’re saddling up.”

She paused. “You’d better take your heavy coat, Dickie. It’s apt to be chilly, waiting up there.”

She hesitated again. “Such a nice young couple. I did enjoy talking to her.”

When he returned with the saddled horse she was at the door with a lunch rolled in a thin towel. She put it in a burlap bag. “I was thinking, Dickie. I did so enjoy
talking to that young woman, and she seemed real handy around the house.”

“Now, Bess, don’t you be thinking that way. She might be suspicious of us.”