And then, as though a wall between them had been scaled, Nathan came forward and took his son's hand, and all the fierce love that was in them expressed itself in that one hard clasp.
They heard Wirt stumbling across the back yard, and suddenly both men, father and son, let go and made an elaborate show of being casual. Nathan turned to the table, where greens and cornbread had been set out by Beulah. “I hear the government boys are looking for me,” he said mildly, beginning to eat.
“They've contacted the marshal here,” Jeff said. “Now he's looking for you, too.”
“Elec Blasingame? He couldn't find his nose with both hands.”
Both of them laughed, but it had a false ring. Nathan's danger increased with every minute he stayed here, and Jeff knew it.
They looked hard at Wirt as he came in the back door and said nothing more until he had passed through to the parlor. Jeff said, “I guess you heard what happened'”
“About them finding the man that killed Jed Harper? Yes, I heard.” His voice was mild enough, but Jeff noticed that Nathan kept his eyes on the plate before him and did not look up. “How did the town take it?”
“I guess Beulah Sewell will never be able to look the people of this town in the eye again,” Jeff answered with sudden bitterness.
Now Nathan did look up, faintly surprised. “Is that so? And what did you do, Jeff, when you found out?”
“I did what anybody would have done. I got out of the Sewell house! I never wanted to see them again.”
A fine network of lines appeared around Nathan's eyes. “You hate them, don't you?”
“Sure I hate them! Don't you?”
The question seemed to surprise Nathan. He put his fork down slowly and seemed to study the question in all its aspects, and only then did he answer. “Yes. I hate them.” Abruptly, he stood up and shouted, “Beulah, bring some coffee to the parlor!”
With cool authority, Nathan ordered Wirt and his wife to another part of the house when he and Jeff came to the parlor. Not until then did Jeff see how much older his father looked, how tired his eyes were, how deep in his face were the lines of anger. “Yes,” Nate said again, sinking heavily into a chair, “I hate them. There's no sense denying it.”
“Why should you, “after what Beulah did?”
Nathan smiled thinly, almost to himself. “Hate, as you'll learn, gets to be a heavy load when you can't put it down.” Then he asked bluntly, “How well do you know Bill Somerson?”
Jeff blinked in surprise. How could Nathan know about Somerson?
Again Nathan smiled his thin smile. “Among Indians and outlaws, word has a way of traveling fast. What you and Somerson are cooking together, I don't know, but I know it's something.”
Jeff felt the breath of warning in Nathan's smile. “I turned a posse off Somerson's trail once,” he said carefully. “That's about all I know about him.”
Surprisingly, his father let it drop. He sat in silence for a moment, his eyes closed. Then he said, “I know how you feel about this town, but there's something I want to know. Is there anything about it that you like and would hate to leave?”
As though a door in his mind had been opened, the vision of Amy was suddenly there. Too late did Jeff realize that Nathan's eyes were not completely closed and that he was watching his face intently from under his black lashes. And then Nathan did close his eyes, and for a moment the deep lines around his mouth did not seem so harsh.
“I remember,” he said, “when I wasn't much older than you are now and I had a reason for staying in Plainsville. But when your mother died—” Then he discarded the thought as suddenly as he had dropped Somerson.
Jeff shook his head, bewildered. “Why did you take the chance of coming back here? Was it because of me?”
Nathan only looked at him.
“Are things so bad in Mexico that you couldn't stay there?”
His father seemed surprised. “You know about that?”
“Everybody does, I guess. Elec Blasingame does; that's why he expects you to head back for Texas.”
Unexpectedly, Nathan laughed. “Nothing ever gets so bad in Mexico that you can't put it right with money.”
“And you have the money?”
“Of course.”
But Jeff could see that it was a brazen lie. That stunted calico in the cowshed, the clothes that Nathan wore— those things did not suggest money. And perhaps Nathan could see what was in his son's mind, for the worry lines around his eyes seemed to deepen.
“Don't you start worrying about your pa,” he said sternly. “Nathan Blaine can take care of himself. It's you I'm worried about.”
“Why should you worry about me?”
For a moment he thought he would get no answer. Nathan shoved himself forward in his chair and studied his lean, strong hands. “Will you make me a promise?” he finally asked. “Don't act the fool, the way I did at your age, and get yourself into trouble that you can't get out of. Don't listen to stories about Nate Blaine being in bad with the Mexicans, either.”
He laughed shortly, but not with his eyes. “I can't imagine how that story got started. Why I'm heading back for the Border tomorrow as soon my horse gets rested up. Would I be doing a thing like that if there was trouble?”
Jeff cleared his throat, but said nothing.
“What I'm trying to say,” Nathan continued, “is that I don't need your help. Nate Blaine needs help from nobody. Is that clear?
Jeff nodded.
“If you hate this town, that's all right with me. But think it over before you kick it for the last time and put it behind you.”
Puzzled, Jeff didn't know what the talk was getting around to.
“All I want is your promise,” Nathan said.
“You oughtn't worry about me,” Jeff said evasively. “You said yourself I was a man.”
“But I still want the promise that you're not headed for trouble on my account. I rode a long way just to hear it.”
Jeff thought, When it comes to lying, I can do it just as brazenly as he can. “Sure,” he said, “I promise.” He did not realize how tense Nathan had been until he watched him now slowly relaxing, unwinding painfully, like a taut steel spring.
“Good,” Nathan said. “Now you'd better go back to your room—we can't attract attention by keeping these lights on.”
“When will I see you again?”
“I don't know. Maybe you'll come to Mexico Some time and look me up.”
“You're leaving so soon?”
His anxiety was all too obvious in his voice, and Nathan smiled faintly. “Don't look as though you'll never see me again. It's just Mexico—not so far.”