Louis L'Amour - Lonely On the Mountain

"I did my part, Tell. Didn't I?" He stared up at me.

"All any man could, Shorty. We rode some rivers together." "It ain't so bad," he said. "There's nobody to write to. I never had nobody, Tell." "You had us, Shorty, and when we ride over the rim, we'll be lookin' for you. Keep an eye out, will you?" There were low clouds, and the place where he lay was swept clean of snow. Nettie and Mary, they came to him, trying to ease him some, as womenfolk will.

"Can't you do something, Tell?" Nettie said to me.

"Nothin' he can do, ma'am," Shorty said.

"Just don't try to move me." Tyrel came back from the woods, and Orrin rode up, and we squatted near Shorty.

"Highpockets and me," Shorty said, "we were headin' for the Jackson Hole country. You tell him he'll have to go it alone, will you?" "He's comin', Shorty. He'll be here in just a moment." "He better hurry. I got my saddle on something I can't ride." Highpockets loomed over them. "See you down the road a piece, Shorty. You be lookin' for me. You'll know me because I'll have a scalp to my belt." Nettie brushed the hair back from his brow, and Shorty passed with his eyes on her face.

"He was a man loved high country," I said.

"We'll bury him here." "Smoke over yonder," Cap said. "Might be a town." "Bunch the cattle," I said. "We're going on in."

Chapter XXIV

Of the cattle with which we started less than half remained, and they were lean and rangy from the long drive.

"Nettie," Orrin advised, "you and Mrs.

McCann had better hang back behind the herd.

We're going to have trouble." "What's this all about, anyway?" Mary McCann demanded.

"We'll know when we meet Logan, and that should be soon." "Is that a town down there?" "It is no town," Baptiste said. "Once there was fort. A man named Campbell had fort here back in 1838 or '39. Sometimes trapper mans camped here." "There's somebody here now," Haney said, "and somebody killed Shorty." Sitting my roan horse, I listened to what was being said with only a bit of my attention. What was worrying me was what we'd find down below. Shorty had been killed. Shot right through the chest and spine and shot dead. He had been shot deliberately, and to me it looked like they were trying to warn us to stay out.

"Baptiste? Why here? Why don't they want us there? Why would anybody want a herd of cattle here? There isn't enough grass to keep a herd of this size alive." "You say he say "before winter comes." They want beef. They want food. No game comes in winter. Ver' little game. People could be much hungry.

"Winter comes an' nobody here. Nobody goes out. I t'ink somebody wish to stay here through the winter." "He could be right, Tell," Orrin said.

"What other answer is there?" "Whoever it is, they mean business. The shooting of Shorty was deliberate. It was a warning.

Stay out or be killed." Suddenly, I made up my mind. My impulse was to go right on in, but into what?

"We'll camp," I said. "We'll camp right here on the mountain." Tyrel turned to stare at me. "I say let's go on in. Let's get it done." "Get what done, Tye? Who is the enemy?

Who are we hunting? Where's Logan? If he's free, he may not even be down there. If he's a prisoner, we'd better know where he is.

"There may be ten men down there, and there may be fifty. They've already showed us they are ready to fight, and to kill. According to what we heard, they've got the Samples down there and those Polon brothers.

"Go into camp," I said, "right back at the edge of the trees, and let's get set for a fight." We moved the cattle into a kind of a cul de sac at the edge of the forest. Dragging a log into place here and there and propping them against trees, we made a crude sort of a fence. It wouldn't stop a determined steer but might stop a casual wanderer.

We found a place at the edge of the trees where a fire might safely be built without being seen from too great a distance. "Fix us a good meal, Lin," I suggested. "We may need it tomorrow." "What's on your mind, Tell?" "I'm going down there tonight. I'm going to see what's going on." "They will expect somebody." "Maybe." "If Logan didn't leave that marker himself," I said, "somebody did it for him, somebody who could get out and come back in." "I didn't see any tracks." "You didn't look close enough. There were tracks, most of them wiped out and with leaves scattered over. Back in the brush a few steps I found some--woman's tracks." "That sounds like Logan. He never got himself in trouble yet there wasn't some woman tryin' to get him out of it." There was grass enough to keep the cattle happy, and we settled down to study what lay ahead of us. During the night, there could well be an attack. We had been warned in about the worst way, and we knew they would not hesitate to kill.

The worst of it was that we did not know what was at stake except that Logan Sackett was somehow involved.

My night horse was fresh, and I shifted the saddle. Right now I wasn't sure whether I'd ride or walk, and I was thinking the last way might be best. Usually, I carried some moccasins in my outfit, and they were handy today.

Tyrel and Orrin stood with me at the last.

"We'll handle things here. If there's shootin', don't worry yourself. We'll hold the fort." Baptiste came to me. "A long time back there is a path down the mountain." He drew it in the dust. "The old fort is gone--only some stones here. This is grass. There is the river. I do not know what is here.

"The smokes--is ver' much smoke. Two, three fires, maybe." He hesitated. "A man who was at the fort, he tell me they find gold. Maybe--" That could be the answer. But why threaten Logan with hanging? Why did he need cattle? Who was trying to prevent our arrival?

When darkness came, there were stars over the Cassiar Mountains, and I found Baptiste's trail and went down quietly to the water and crossed to the point where the old fort had stood. Some of the snow had melted, but there were patches which I avoided, not wanting to outline myself against the white or to leave tracks that could be found.

A straight dark line against the sky told me a building was there.

Where would Logan be? If I could find Logan, he could explain it all. Slowly, taking infinite care, I circled the area at the edge of the woods. I found a sluice, heard a rustle of running water in it. Somebody had been placering for gold.

A tent, and another tent. A canvas-walled house, a shedlike place, a log cabin with light shining from some cracks. A dug-out door with a bar across the outside--the outside?

For a moment, I held still in the shadows. Now why a bar across a door from the outside?

Obviously not to keep anybody from getting in, so it must be to keep somebody from getting out.

Logan?

Maybe. There was a larger log cabin close by and light from a window made of old bottles, a window I could not see in, and nobody inside could see out. Beyond it, there was a corral. Easing along in the shadows, I counted at least twelve horses, and there were probably more.

There was a building with a porch in front of it, steps leading up to the door, and no light at all. It could be a store. In all, there were not more than five or six structures and a scattering of tents and lean-tos.

Nobody was moving around, and there seemed to be no dogs, or my presence would have been discovered.

A door of a cabin opened, and a woman stood revealed in the door, a light behind her. She stood there for several minutes, and the night wind stirred her skirt. She brushed back a wisp of hair and went back inside, leaving the door open.

There was a fireplace in view, a homemade chair, a table, and some firewood piled by the fireplace. Suddenly,

she came to the door again singing softly, "Bold, brave and undaunted ..." "Rode young Brennan on the moor!" I finished the line for her.