Louis L'Amour - The Lonely Men

All day my mind kept going back to turnip greens, and to wild-hog hunting in the hills on those foggy mornings when the forest dripped and a body prowled through it like a red Indian, scouting for wild hogs to give us bacon to cook with turnip greens in an iron pot. Me and Orrin used to go out, or sometimes Tyrel, though he was younger. Never knew Tyrel to miss, though on occasion I did.

I'd never seen that country since. Never seen it ... but I hankered for it. Many a time on the desert I looked up to the stars and wished I was back there, seein' the kitchen door open with its light shining out and me coming up from the milking with my pails full to overflow.

You wouldn't hardly think my mind would be on that now, with the trouble I was in right this minute, but that's the way it was ... as if I had to give my mind some ease with good rememberin'. So all the time, as we rode along, my thoughts kept going back to that green and lovely country.

I thought of the time I floated down the Big South Fork on a flat-boat to New Orleans, taking what we had to trade -- corn, sorghum molasses, and maybe some tobacco. We Sacketts never had much to trade except muscle, because our poor ridge-land didn't raise more than enough to feed us, even if we hunted the forest too. But folks liked to have a Sackett along going downriver through some country where unruly folks were liable to be. My thoughts came back to where I was, and I saw that Kahtenny was pointing out the land. "You go," he said, "you go get my squaw."

He handed me my gun belt and Winchester, and I checked them for loads. My mouth felt as dry as one of those empty creek beds.

"You keep an eye out," I said. "Maybe I won't be comin' back with her."

We sat there a moment, and then I held out a hand. "Loan me a spare," I said. "I may need it bad."

Well, sir, he looked at me, and then he taken out his six-gun and passed it over. It was a Navy .44, and a likely piece. I shoved it down in my waistband back of my vest.

Toclani rode up. "I will go with you," he said.

"No, thanks. You stay here. If they see me comin' alone maybe they'll let me get close enough to talk. If they see two of us comin' they might just shoot."

So I spoke to that ga'nted-up black horse and we started down, and back behind me Kahtenny said, "You bring back my squaw."

I'd be lucky to do it. I'd be a whole sight luckier if I rode out with a whole hide.

"All right, horse," I said to the black, "let's go talk to them."

And we rode through the cholla toward Dead Man's Tank.

Chapter 17

The vague blue feather of smoke lifted faintly above the rocks of an old lava flow. I could hear my horse's hoofs strike stone, or his muffled hoof-falls in the sand. I sat tall in the saddle, Winchester in the scabbard, my mind open and alert.

There can be no planning in such a situation. Until a man is in the midst of it, he has no idea of the lay of the land, no idea of how the ones he's going to meet will be strung out. You just have to ride in and handle it by main strength and awkwardness, with maybe the salt of a little luck.

The men up ahead wanted me dead. No doubt they had me in their sights right now.

No doubt they were holding off to crow over me and mine, or to see what I had to say. As to that Apache squaw, they didn't care one whit. But the Haddens were new in Apache country, and they had no idea what they were up against. If Kahtenny didn't get his squaw, nobody was riding out of there with a whole skin ... not if Kahtenny could help it There was a little thorny, scraggly brush growing amongst the rocks, but the land around was mostly slabs of broken rock, falls of talus off the slopes, or ridges shoved up through the sand.

Glancing back, I could see two Apaches back there, and only two. That meant the others had scattered out and even now were moving in, getting in position for the kill.

Now, I'm a peace-loving man, inclined to easy riding and talking around a fire, and the more Apaches I get around me the more peace-loving I become. Riding up there to those rocks around Dead Man's Tank, I could feel my scalp a-prickling as if it guessed it was going to be lifted.

I taken the thong off the hammer of my Colt, and I rode up a narrow trail through the rocks and looked over into a shallow basin.

Dead Man's Tank lay before me, a pool of water maybe ten feet across, each way.

Beyond it was a mite of fire, with the thin line of smoke losing itself in the sky. I could see half a dozen horses, and what might be the ears of a couple more beyond the rocks.

The Haddens were standing wide-legged facing me, and there was a man higher up in the rocks with a Winchester across his knees. Two more were by the fire, and likely another might be somewhere about.

Right beyond the fire was Kahtenny's squaw, and even at this distance I could see she was both young and pretty. She looked straight at me, and I was betting she was counting on Kahtenny to get her loose from this setup.

And then I saw Dorset.

Dorset, and one of the youngsters. I gave a quick look around, but saw neither hide nor hair of the others. Maybe they were dead now, or else were crossing the border to safely.

Arch Hadden was looking right at me, and he was smiling, but there was nothing you'd call friendly in that smile. "Well, look who's here," he said. "That would-be tough Sackett."

"Got a message for you, Arch," I said, resting my hands on the pommel, left hand on top. "Kahtenny is out there, and he wants his squaw."

"We told him to send you dead."

"Must have been some mistake there," I said. "I'm still alive."

"Not for long," the other Hadden said, sounding mighty savage.

"I take it you boys haven't had much doings with the Apaches," I said, "so listen to some reason. No matter what's between you boys and me, you'd better listen real good.

"That Kahtenny is poison mean, and he's a fighter from way back. You see him out there almost alone, but he isn't alone. He's got a dozen Indians in these rocks, and more a-coming. If you want to get out of here alive you'd better turn loose his squaw."

The one in the rocks, he ups and says, "We've fought Injuns afore. We ain't turnin' her loose. That there's a right tasty bit of Injun."

Now I knew the chips were down and their cards were on the table. I was sort of watching everything, thinking about how long it had been since I practiced a left-hand draw, and thinking how they were probably counting on that right hand, far from the gun and resting on the pommel, under the left one. I had done that a-purpose, and was hoping it was going to give me the margin I needed. There was this thing of reaction time ... it takes an instant to see what's happening and for it to register on the mind and dictate a move.

"If you boys are as smart as I think you are," I said, "you'll let that squaw loose, and the same for the young lady over yonder. You know what will happen if you bother a white girl out here."

"Nothin' " That was the man with the rifle up in the rocks. "Ain't nobody goin' to tell."

"You're forgetting about my boys," I said. "They'll know and they'll be telling the story about now."

"Not Spanish Murphy," Arch Hadden said. "He won't tell nobody nothin'. We found him tied on his horse and he didn't look like he was going to make it, so we shot him. We just naturally finished him off."

Dorset was right behind the squaw now, and I never had any doubts about her doing what was best. That little lady had a head on her shoulders and the chances were that right now she was unloosing the squaw.

I knew I had to stall. I had to play for time. "No use you boys building up for trouble," I said. "Turn that squaw loose, and the lot of us have got a fighting chance. We can make it out of here if we move fast, before Kahtenny gets fifty, sixty Injuns out yonder."