“All right,” he told Caballo Rojo. “Maybe Pino didn’t try to kill me. But somebody did.”
Caballo Rojo shrugged as if to say that wasn’t his worry.
“Fine,” Matt said. “But I’ll be sleeping with one eye open from now on, you can count on that.”
Caballo Rojo grunted and turned away. Matt had the distinct impression that the clan leader was washing his hands of the whole matter.
Pino glared at Matt and Elizabeth again and went back in his hogan, leaving the two of them alone.
“I don’t understand, Matt,” Elizabeth said. “Why would any of these people want to kill you? No one here even knew you until you were brought in wounded.”
“I don’t have an answer,” Matt admitted. “Maybe it would be best if I just got on my horse and left.”
“You’re in no shape to do that,” Elizabeth said.
He winced as the wounds in his side twinged a little.
“I’m in no shape to fight off whoever wants me dead, either. But if I could make it to Flat Rock and find Sam, he could watch my back.”
“You don’t know if he’s even there. He could have found the trail of those men who attacked you, and it could have led somewhere else.”
She was right about that, Matt realized. His instincts told him there was some connection between the bushwhackers and the settlement, though.
For one thing, the men who’d taken those potshots at him and Sam had been using repeaters. Judging by what he had seen so far, the Navajo didn’t have any rifles except a few old single-shot weapons. Matt was convinced the bushwhackers had been white men.
And where else in these parts would white men be found except in Flat Rock, or on one of the ranches in the area of the settlement?
As he pondered that, he sighed and said, “I won’t leave today. I reckon I’m still not strong enough to do that. But I don’t make any promises about tomorrow.”
“You should come back to my hogan,” she suggested. “I can watch over you and make sure nothing happens.”
Matt wasn’t sure a schoolteacher from Vermont would be able to stop somebody from trying to kill him, and besides ...
“That would just scandalize these folks even more. They’d run us both out of the canyon, and you didn’t want to leave yet.”
“Maybe I’ve changed my mind,” Elizabeth said. “Things are getting too tense here. Normally the Navajo are very peaceful people, but I’m starting to get a feeling that ... well, that there might be trouble.”
Matt looked up and down the canyon. He felt the same way. The hair on the back of his neck stood up and the skin prickled, as if someone was watching them.
Somebody who didn’t have their best interests in mind.
“Tomorrow,” he said. “Tomorrow, if you still feel the same way, we’ll get out of here.”
Elizabeth nodded in agreement.
Now all they had to do was live through the night, Matt thought.
Chapter 22
Mrs. McCormick had told Sam that she served breakfast at six o’clock. What he found waiting for him when he came into the dining room the next morning was worth getting up that early for.
The rich aroma of fresh-brewed coffee filled the room and mingled with other enticing smells, like that of fresh-baked bread and sizzling bacon.
Six men sat at the long table, including Noah Reilly. The little bespectacled clerk lifted a hand in greeting and smiled at Sam.
“Mr. Two Wolves!” he said. “Mrs. McCormick told me that you’d taken a room here. I’m glad to see you.”
“You, too, Noah,” Sam said.
Reilly pulled back the empty chair next to him.
“Here, have a seat.”
The table was already set and had food on it. Sam saw platters full of bacon, biscuits, hotcakes, eggs, and hash brown potatoes. A couple of pots of coffee sat within easy reach, and so did a pitcher of buttermilk. There was gravy and honey for the biscuits, molasses for the hotcakes.
It was classic boardinghouse fare and Sam’s stomach rumbled a little as he sat down next to Reilly, letting him know that he was ready for it.
Mrs. Reilly came in from the kitchen, carrying a tray with several jars of different jams and preserves on it.
“Good morning, Mr. Two Wolves,” she said. “Have you met everyone?”
Sam shook his head.
“No, not really, just Noah here.”
“Let me introduce you to the other fellows,” Reilly said.
He went around the table giving Sam the names and occupations of the other boarders, adding jocular asides about their professions such as “You don’t want to get too well acquainted with Cyrus here. He’s the undertaker!”
Sam filed away the information in his head, knowing that he wouldn’t remember most of it. The townsmen were all pleasant enough, although a couple of them were a little reticent in their greetings. Sam had a hunch that was because of his Cheyenne blood.
Overall, though, it was a pleasant meal, and Sam was stuffed by the time he was finished.
“What are your plans for the day, Sam?” Reilly asked as they walked out of the house after breakfast.
“I don’t really have any,” Sam replied with a shake of his head.
“Are you looking for work?”
“I might be.” He wasn’t, really, but he might have to use that as an excuse to hang around Flat Rock while he continued to search for the bushwhackers.
“Unfortunately, I can’t offer you a job. Mr. Wilmott, who lives in Prescott, owns the store but entrusts the running of it completely to me. Right now the profits don’t justify hiring another employee.”
“That’s all right, Noah,” Sam said. “I don’t think I was cut out to work in a store, anyway.”
“That’s true. It takes a certain, ah, type such as me, doesn’t it?”
Thinking that he had offended the man, Sam started to apologize, but Reilly smiled and waved it away.
“No, no, I’m perfectly aware that I’m not the adventurous, swashbuckling sort,” he said. “I think most of the time people are foolish to try to be something they aren’t, so I’m perfectly content to clerk in a store. It’s what I’m cut out for.”
“Well, that’s one way to look at it,” Sam said. He shook his head. “I don’t see how you stay as skinny as you do, eating at Mrs. McCormick’s.”
Reilly grinned.
“The dear lady does set a good table, doesn’t she?” He patted his stomach. “I guess I’m lucky that I burn it all off.”
Now that the sun was up, Flat Rock was coming to life.
Or at least as much life as this sleepy little settlement usually exhibited. A few pedestrians moved along the boardwalks, a couple of men on horseback made their way slowly along the street, and a wagon was parked in front of the general store.
The doors of the livery stable were open, and that gave Sam an idea. He said, “I’ll see you later, Noah,” and walked over to Pedro Garralaga’s place.
The stableman was inside, tending to the animals in his charge. At this hour the heat of the day hadn’t started to build up yet, so inside the barn it was cool and shadowy.
Garralaga said, “Buenos dias, Señor Two Wolves. You are out and about early this morning.”
“I thought I’d go for a ride before the day gets too hot,” Sam said.
“A ride? Where?” Garralaga made a gesture that took in their surroundings. “What’s there to see around here?”
“You never know. A man never stumbles over anything interesting if he doesn’t look around.”
Garralaga grunted.
“There’s not much anywhere in the Four Corners that’s interesting. But suit yourself. You want me to saddle your horse?”
“No, I’ll take care of it.”
Sam’s horse tossed its head and nuzzled his shoulder. He put his saddle on the animal, noting what a good job Garralaga had done on the repairs, and led the horse out into the aisle in the center of the barn.