Louis L'Amour - The Lonely Men

"The children never heard of any other boy," Rocca repeated, "and they'd know.

And, Harry Brook would. He speaks the language pretty good, and there's talk around the Indian villages."

Well, there was no use studying on it now. We had miles to travel. I said as much and we saddled up and moved down the creek.

Rocca rode with his head over his shoulder. I mean he was a worried man. When you see Apaches you're worried, but when you don't see them you're maybe really in trouble. They could be all around you.

When the shadows were beginning to reach out from the hills we came up to a ranch, four tired men with some tired children. As we neared it we spread out and I rode with my Winchester up in my hands, my eyes moving under the low brim of my hat, searching each shadow, each doubtful place.

No smoke ... no movement. Somewhere a blue jay fussed, somewhere a quail called into the stillness and another made reply. Otherwise it was still.

Nobody spoke, and we rode into the yard. Battles rode through the gate, and I went through a gap in the ruined wall. Spanish circled to the right, Rocca to the left.

The ranch was deserted ... a ruin. Fire had gutted it, and some of the stone walls had toppled. The windows gapped like great, hollow eyes that stared upon nothing. The barns were a tumbled mass of burned timbers and the fallen stones of foundation walls. Mesquite trees choked up the corrals.

But trees still shaded the ranch yard. Water ran from an iron pipe into a tank.

An oak limb had grown through an open window. In the patio the blocks of stone that paved it had been thrust up by a growing sycamore, which was now several niches through.

Once this ranch had been a splendid place, once the fields had been green and men had worked here, lived here, and loved here.

We rode into the thick grass where the ranch yard had been and we drew up. We heard only the wind ... only the trickle of water into the tank. John J. Battles looked slowly around and said nothing, and Spanish Murphy sat silent for a long moment. Then he said, "This is the sort of place you dream about, when you're on a long, dusty trail, or you're in the desert and short of water."

"We'd better have a look around," I said. "Tamp, you scout to the wall yonder.

Spanish can stay with the children."

We moved out. A rabbit sprang from under my feet and went bounding away. We searched the place, but we found nothing, nothing at all.

There was a watch tower on one corner of the place, shrewdly built to observe the country around, but now partly masked by the tops of trees. While I took the first watch, Battles put some grub together for a meal.

The sun was warm and pleasant, but it bothered me for I could see too little in the open country to the west. Our enemies should come from the east, but trust an Apache to use the sun's glare if he figured on an attack. But the sun sank behind the mountains to to westward and I studied the country all around with great care, and saw nothing.

Where were Dorset Binny and the boy? If they had ridden the way we planned they should be not too far away, for our course had veered around and we, too, had come west.

From the watch tower I could study the terrain and my eyes searched out all possible hiding places. The position of the ranch had been well chosen. The place had a good field of fire in every direction and must have been easy to defend back in the old days, yet the Indians had taken it, burned it out, and more than likely killed everybody on the ranch.

It seemed to me at least fifteen to twenty men would have been needed to defend the ranch. Maybe they were shorthanded when the attack came.

In the last minutes of daylight, I saw them coming -- two riders, not over half a mile off.

I called softly to Murphy, who was closest and knelt by one of the openings left in the wall for a firing position. But I was sure right from the start. As they drew nearer I could see them clear enough.

Standing up on the tower I called out, "Dorset! Dorset Binny! Come on in!"

Chapter 10

Laura Pritts Sackett was immaculate. She was cool, aloof, yet she managed to convey the idea that beneath that still surface there was turmoil, waiting to be exploited. A cold, emotionless young woman, she had learned very early that the appearance of deep emotion and passion beneath the quiet exterior was a tool and a weapon to be used, and so she had used it Her adoration for her father had resulted in hatred for all who in any way thwarted or opposed him.

As the days passed into weeks and she heard nothing from Mexico, she grew worried. Suppose, after all, Tell Sackett was not killed by the Apaches? Suppose he did return, and her falsehood was exposed? She was less worried, however, about being exposed -- she had no intention of remaining in Tucson anyway -- than about Sackett not being killed.

She knew enough about the Sacketts to know they had a way of getting out of corners. Suddenly, she made up her mind.

She would leave Tucson. She would go back east without waiting any longer. She might never hear what happened in Sonora, and there was no sense in staying on here, in this heat, and merely waiting. Her father had a little property in the East, and it was time she returned to settle the estate. But first she would make one final effort She was seated in the Shoo-Fly when she reached that decision. She knew, as did everyone, about the gun battle in the Quartz Rock Saloon, and she had seen the Hadden boys around town. She knew also that the Maddens had been doing some talking about what would happen when they met Tell Sackett and Tampico Rocca again.

Suddenly the door opened and Captain Lewiston came in, accompanied by Lieutenant Jack Davis, whom she remembered from the stage ride to Tucson.

They came to her table. "Mrs. Sackett," Davis said, "I want to present Captain Lewiston."

She turned her wide blue eyes on the Captain and sensed a coolness, a reserve.

This one would not be so easy as Davis to wind around her finger. "How do you do, Captain," she said. "Won't you sit down?"

The men seated themselves and ordered coffee. "I hope you will forgive the intrusion, Mrs. Sackett," Captain Lewiston said, "but we were wondering if you could tell us anything about the present location of Tell Sackett. I believe he is a relative of yours."

"He is my brother-in-law," she said, "although I had never met him until a few weeks ago. Right here in this room, in fact. He was with some other men. I don't know where they went. Is he in trouble?"

Lewiston hesitated. "Yes and no," he said finally. "If he rode into Apache country, as we have heard that he did, he may be in very serious trouble indeed."

She allowed her lip to tremble. "He ... he hasn't been killed, has he? The Sacketts are reckless, daring men, and ..." She let her words trail away.

"We have heard nothing," Lewiston said. "We are planning a strike against the Apaches that will take us deep into Mexico. We would not want them stirred up by some unauthorized foray into their country."

"I ... I did not know. If anything should happen to Mr. Sackett my husband would be very upset. They are very close."

"Mrs. Sackett, I understand you provided Mr. Sackett with a horse? Is that true?"

"Of course. His own had been killed and he was unable to purchase one. I merely helped." She smiled. "What else could I do?"

Lewiston was not satisfied, yet there was certainly nothing wrong with her story, nor had he any reason to suspect she knew Tell Sackett's whereabouts, except the fact that they were relatives, and had talked together. He could not have given any reason for his dissatisfaction, but he felt it. Moreover, he had liked Tell, and he was worried about him.

Later he said as much to Davis. "Oh, come now, Captain!" Davis said. "If Laura Sackett knew anything about Sackett she would tell you. What possible reason would she have for lying?"