Tough to Kill (17 page)

McAllister reached Sarie. The child was standing with the sheriff's arm around her. Men and women stood around, all talking, all trying to get over the fact that a child had won the race. The judge came up and solemnly shook her hand and she said, “Aw, shucks, it ain't nothing y'honor.” Carlotta came pushing through the crowd and clung to McAllister's arm. “We did it, Rem, we did it,” she cried. Meanwhile Alvina and Lucy sought out their dream men and likewise clung to them.

Markham, while the judge and the sheriff called to him by name to give the prize, was howling for his daughters to leave those no-good saddle-bums alone and go about their business. The crowd loved it and greeted each bellow with roars of laughter and shouts of encouragement until the poor man didn't know which way to turn. Finally, he was brought dazed and red-faced to the sheriff by the lawman's two deputies and stared at Sarie as if he could not believe his eyes.

“It ain't legal,” he roared. “Nobody said no kids could enter the race. What chance has a growed man against a kid like that?”

The judge said: “It's legal, Markham.”

“Pay the child,” the sheriff said.

Markham looked from one to the other as though they had committed the lowest treachery.

“What's a kid like that going to do with five hunnerd dollars?” he demanded.

McAllister said: “She's going to rebuild the house you burned down.”

The crowd heard this and gasped. Markham spun around, looking for his stalwarts. He saw in front of him, McShannon, Jack Owen and his sister Carlotta. They all regarded him coldly. Alvina was on the arm of McShannon and Lucy stood by Jack Owen.

“You two girls leave them men alone,” Markham shouted.

“You pay Sarie,” Alvina said flatly.

“Foley,” Markham shouted, “where you at?”

Looking sour, the foreman stepped forward.

“We won't have any trouble,” the sheriff said. “You will pay Miss Sarie the prize money, then you will disperse like the rest of the crowd into town. Peaceably.”

Foley didn't have a gun. He looked lost without it. Markham looked around. His men were there, but there were a great many other folk as well. He knew that he was beaten. He took a very deep breath and held out his hand to the sheriff who held the stake money.

It was a heavy leather bag full of gold. Sarie couldn't take her eyes off it. Without looking at her, Markham took the money from the sheriff and thrust it into the girl's hands. It was so heavy that she nearly dropped it. McAllister took it from her and hefted it in one hand with a grin.

“That's part of what you owe us,” he said.

Markham gave him a hard fierce look and thrust his way through the crowd, roaring for his daughters to follow. McShannon and Jack Owen started to say fond farewells. Foley lingered a moment as if he would say something to McAllister, but he thought better of it and stalked away. Slowly, the crowd and Markham's riders scattered. The two girls finally followed their father with many backward glances and waves, McAllister's group mounted their tired horses and rode slowly away to their camp.

In camp, they talked. Inside an hour, they knew what they would do with the money. Carlotta was right. They must build a house and a good one. They broke camp and moved down into town. They stayed together. Those were McAllister's orders and he stated them in that tone that brooked no opposition. They went to the bank and deposited the bulk of the money in Sarie's name. Then they went to the timber mill and picked out their timber and arranged to have it hauled out to the site of the old house. Next they bought a light wagon and filled it with supplies. Last, they bought three of the latest Winchesters and enough ammunition for an army. Then, considering that the day's success demanded a small celebration that could be enjoyed by the ladies, they went to
the best restaurant in town and had a slap-up meal. They enjoyed it all the more because it was on Markham.

It was dark when they moved out of town, Sarie and Carlotta on the wagon and the men riding guard around it. They didn't reach the site of the old house till the early hours of the morning. They camped by the side of the creek and all slept the sleep of folk who feel that they have a good day. McAllister, pleased though he was, could not help feeling that Markham would never let things rest there. The man's pride had been badly mauled. His best horses had been beaten, his enemies had taken five hundred dollars from him and his sister had run off with one of the said enemies. McAllister's assessment of the situation told him that the next time Markham appeared on the scene it would be with plenty of men and plenty of guns. The sooner they had a stout house built the better.

The following morning, they arose early and the girls cooked breakfast over the open fire while the men took a much needed bathe in the creek. And then, while the men talked, the girls retired to a discreet spot and also took a bath. Everybody was in high spirits and there was some horseplay between McShannon and the sober Jack Owen. When the girls came back from the creek, they all voted on the spot where the new house was to be built. They chose a place on slightly raised ground about a hundred yards from the old site and McAllister and McShannon marked out the plan on the ground. It was to be a big house with a large central room, and rooms off for Sarie, Jack, McShannon and a larger one for McAllister and Carlotta. Jack and McShannon protested that they'd want pretty big rooms themselves as they aimed to be married before long. McAllister said he would believe that when he saw it.

McShannon started to build the chimney to fill in the time till the lumber arrived from town. He was pretty proud of the way he could build chimneys, so the others let him get to it while they carried stones for him. Most of them they brought from the old chimney, some of which was still standing, other stones, they found along the creek. In the afternoon, the lumber arrived from town. There were three wagon-loads of it and there was more to come. The men off-loaded and the wagons started the light haul home. They brought with them Sven Larsen, the carpenter, and he set to work at
once, bossing everybody about and not giving anybody a minute's peace. Not long after Arch Sorenson from further down the valley turned up in a wagon with his two stalwart sons, saying that he had heard that they were house-building and could they lend a hand? They were welcomed warmly. The Sorensons had brought a jug with them and this was handed around to cheer the men at their work. Before dark, Tom Frazer from the edge of the foothills came up with his one rider and asked if he could pitch in. The two men were given a drink from the jug and told to get to it. By nightfall, the frame and half an outer wall were up.

As they sat around the fire, eating the chow that Carlotta and Sarie had rustled up, McAllister said: “At this rate, she'll be finished in a couple of days.”

The next day early, the Maxtons from the north came in. They were father, mother, son and two daughters. This made a picnic of the whole affair. At noon, more lumber arrived and on its tail came John Dowell and his brood of two sons and a daughter. He was a farmer from the edge of Markham's range. In a cow-country, he was frowned upon. But he was the kind of man who didn't give a damn. McAllister and his crowd were neighbours a-building and he'd come to help. He was offered the little that was left of the jug and his whole family set to work. By the end of the day, all the other walls were finished and Sven Larsen was putting the shingles on. That night, with the camp fires burning Maxton got out his fiddle and they danced. They danced as only people starved of community fun can dance. There wasn't much skill to it, but there was a hell of a lot of pleasure. There was a lot of laughter and the women declared they were plumb tuckered out and the men were proud that they could dance the women off their feet. A fight broke out over the Dowell girl between one of the Sorenson boys and one other boy McAllister couldn't place, so he and McShannon threw them both in the creek to cool off and that was declared the highlight of the evening. Nobody slept till after midnight, but everybody was up in the dawn being bossed remorsely by Sven Larsen. By the end of the day, McAllister declared the house finished. All they wanted now was some furniture.

John Dowell said it just so happened he had a thing or two in his wagon. Things they didn't have room for in his house. Out came a table and a chair. Sorenson said that was a kind of
coincidence because he had an item or so in his wagon they just didn't know where to put in his house. He came with another chair and a large bed. A roar went up at the sight of the last and McShannon told everybody in a very loud voice that that was for Carlotta and McAllister. The poor critturs hadn't had a chance to share a proper bed yet. The folks roared at that. The Maxtons then produced some cups and plates and cutlery from their wagon and capped their effort with the presentation of a rocking chair and a bureau.

Carlotta, who knew what sacrifices these people had made on their behalf and how treasured such possessions were in this country, stood watching with tears in her eyes.

McAllister said: “What's the matter, girl? You should be pleased, not blubbing.”

She said: “I just know what I've missed by being a Markham.”

He grinned.

“You ain't a Markham no more. You're all McAllister.”

Her hand squeezed his arm gratefully.

That night there was a last shindig. It was louder, wilder and longer than the other. It seemed that dawn was peeking coldly at them before they crawled into the blankets. They danced, they sang, they yarned and joked endlessly like being starved for companionship. This time there were no fights, but everybody enjoyed themselves in spite of that. But early in the morning, the teams were hitched to the wagons ready for pulling out. Hands were shaken all around and promises made to have gatherings like this more often. McShannon said sure, there would be another shortly when he got married to Alvina Markham. Jack piped up that it would be a double wedding and everybody would be welcome.

At the farewells, Maxton managed to get McAllister on one side.

“Ain't mentioned it till now, Rem. Markham's pushin' me.”

Sorenson came up and heard the words. He was obviously seeking McAllister out for a last word.

“Wait a minute, boys,” he said, “let's have Dowell in on this.” He waved his hand to Dowell and the small rancher came over. McAllister looked around at the faces of the three men. They were all set and sober. Grim.

“Me too,” Sorenson said. “The man's plumb crazy. Don't he have enough land?”

Dowell said: “A man like that can't never have enough of anything.”

McAllister said: “How far's this gone?”

Maxton said: “He's given me a week.”

The other two men nodded and Dowell said: “Me too.”

McAllister said: “I'll ride into town and have a talk with George Gibson.”

“The sheriff!” Dowell said. ‘Where will that get you? You and me and all of us know how this bird operates. We heard yarns of how he acted down in Texas. It'll be a shot in the dark. I've got a wife and kids, I don't aim to die that way.”

“I heard,” Maxton said, matter-of-factly, “he likes to use a rope. No, Rem, leave the sheriff out of it. We either settle this ourselves or we clear out of the country. Which is it to be?”

McAllister said lightly: “I have a new house, I don't aim to move.”

“What do we do?” Maxton said. “How do we go about this?”

Dowell put in: “There ain't enough of us to do anything.”

Maxton came back with: “What's Markham got - hired men? What good's a hired man when it comes to a showdown?”

“A hired man,” McAllister said, “will die for his wages in a cow outfit - you know that.”

They stood and looked at each other, their minds ranging this way and that over the problem.

Maxton finally said: “We could count on Job Wilcox over on Lone Pine an' Bill Somers. They know they'll be next.”

“But you won't get any support from the town or the sheriff,” McAllister said. “We got to think about this.”

“There ain't much time for thinkin',” Sorenson said. “We have to make up our minds fast. We don't have no more'n a week. Rem, we talked about this an' we want you to lead us. We ain't goin' to get anyplace without a leader. You come up with something. Fast.”

McAllister nodded. He was accustomed to men turning to him. He accepted authority naturally.

“All right,” he said. “I'll try an' let you know tomorrow what we do. I've got to come up with something that gives you men freedom to hit Markham an' that leaves your families safe. I want a Goddam miracle.”

They told him goodbye then and hands were shaken. The men walked to their wagons and the woman wanted to know what all the talk was about.

McAllister stood with Carlotta and the others waving to the families as they slowly moved off. Everybody felt pretty good. Only the men were weighed down with doubt about the future. As for McAllister, he thought he knew what he had to do even before the wagons were out of sight. But he didn't say anything to the others. He wanted to sleep on it, for he couldn't afford to make a mistake. Too much depended on it.

They all puttered around the house, putting their rooms to rights. McShannon built a bunk for Sarie in her room and then he and Jack Owen put up bunks in their own rooms. McAllister carried the large bed into the room to be shared by himself and Carlotta and had to suffer more ribald remarks from McShannon and Owen. The girls were busy preparing food and putting curtains up. As yet there were no window panes in the frames, but McAllister planned to bring those out from town later. If there was going to be shooting, he didn't see why they should waste that quantity of good glass.

He and Carlotta slept in their fine bed that night and for an hour or two, locked in the struggle that was sweeter than he had thought possible on the confort of a good mattress, he forgot his cares. Then while Carlotta slept at his side, he lay on his back and thought, his mind clear and active.