Four men I had killed in as many days—but even that didn't bother me. They had all needed killing. Nobody held it against you for killing a horse thief like Creyton. And Thornton and the other two policemen weren't any different. I would have to hide out for a while, until the carpetbaggers were out of Texas. A year, maybe. Two at the most, because Texans wouldn't stand for that kind of treatment for long. Then I could come back and stand trial. No jury of John's City ranchers would convict me for what I had done.
There were only two things that bothered me. How would Ma get along without me or Pa to look after her? And Laurin—it was going to be a hard year, or two years, being away from her.
“Is that the place?” Pat Roark pointed toward the sagging shack at the end of the trail.
I nodded. “I guess that'll hold us for a few hours. We can fill our bellies and rest our horses, and figure out where to go.”
Pat laughed. “While the bluebellies cut tracks all over Indian Ridge.”
Nothing seemed to bother him. If he regretted having to pull out like this, without even a chance to say good-by to his old man, it didn't show on that grinning face of his. He seemed to have completely forgotten the fact that he had killed a man a short time back.
We picketed our horses behind the shack where there was plenty of new green grass. By the time we got our saddles off and lugged our supplies inside it was almost dark. I wondered about making a fire, then decided we might as well have a hot meal while we had a chance.
Later, as we sat on the dirt floor eating dripping pieces of bacon and hoecake, Pat said, “I know it's none of my business, and don't get the idea I'm complaining, but don't you think it's a little dangerous staying this close to John's City? We could cover some ground tonight without punishing our horses.”
“I told you I didn't want to leave that red horse behind,” I said. “Hell, the cavalry won't find us here. They'll be cutting tracks on Indian Ridge, like you said.”
Pat shrugged. “All right. I was just thinking.”
Probably he knew the real reason I didn't want to pull out right away. It was Laurin, not that red horse. But he didn't say any more about it.
As night came on, we put the fire out, and my ears seemed to grow sharper as darkness closed in. The moan of the wind and the rattle of grass made startling sounds in the night. Once I got up abruptly and went outside with my gun in my hand when I heard a movement in the brush. But it turned out to be a swamp rabbit making his bed for the night under a clump of mesquite.
Pat said, “You'd better go see about that horse, if you're so almighty anxious about him.”
He didn't say I was getting the jumps, but that was what he meant. All the things that had happened today began to grow and magnify in the darkness. I wouldn't let myself think about Pa. I had done all I could. He would understand that, wherever he was.
But Laurin was something else. She hadn't wanted me to go to town in the first place. What was she going to say about those bluebellies that I hoped were burning in hell by now? Somehow, I had to explain that to her before I went away. And I wasn't sure how I was going to do it.
I said, “Maybe you're right, Pat. I'll see about the horse. Then maybe we'll cover some ground before daybreak.”
“Whatever you say.” He had torn off a piece of his shirttail and was using it to clean that new .44 I had given him.
“You'll be all right here,” I said. “The cavalry won't get around tonight.”
“Don't worry about me.” He looked up. “You're the one that better watch out the bluebellies don't get you.”
It was completely dark now. I went outside and got the bay saddled, and Pat came to the door and watched as I rode off.
It wasn't a smart thing to do, I knew that. Pappy Garret would have skinned me alive for pulling a “fool stunt like that... but it was one of those things that I had to see all the way through. Before long—if I didn't set things straight with Laurin—I'd be snapping at Pat, and we'd end up the same as me and Ray Novak, riding our own separate trails. And I needed Pat. One man wasn't any good on the run. Pappy had been proof of that. It occurred to me that I had already learned to think the way Pappy Garret thought. I didn't really give a damn for Pat Roark, but I could use him, and that was what I meant to do.
That shocked me for a moment. A few days ago I had never even thought of killing a man, and now I had four to my credit, a longer string than a lot of well-known badmen could boast. I felt nothing for them. They could have been calf-killing coyotes, and not human beings.
I tried to work back in my mind and find the beginning of it. Paul Creyton—there was nothing I could have done about that. He had been trying to steal my horse, and that was reason enough for killing anybody in this country. And Thornton—nobody could blame me for that. And the other two—they had been pulling on me, and if I hadn't killed them they would have killed me. I hadn't started any of it. They had all brought it on themselves.
But still I could taste the uneasy tang of doubt, and I wondered if it all would seem so clear-cut and inevitable to Laurin as it did to me.
Coming out of the hills, I rode straight east, heading for our place. I would have a hard time explaining it to Pat, if I came back without that red horse, and, besides, for some strange reason, I wanted to put off seeing Laurin until the very last.
There was no sign of cavalry or police as I crossed the open range. Probably, I thought, the Cameron ranch would be the last place they would look for me, especially if Old Man Garner had told them we were headed for Indian Ridge.
The ranch house was dark when I got there. The only light I could see was in the bunkhouse. When we reached the rear of the ranch yard, I got down and led the bay toward the barn where I figured Red would be.
“Tall.”
It was just a whisper, but there in the darkness it came at me like a bullet. I dropped the reins and wheeled.
“It's me, Tall! My God, be careful with that gun!”
It was Bucky Stow, coming from the far side of the barn. I didn't remember pulling my pistol, but there it was, in my hand, the hammer pulled back and ready to fall. I heard somebody breathing hard, breath whistling through his teeth. After a moment I realized it was me.
“You want to be careful how you slip up on people,” I said weakly. Bucky would never know how close he came to being number five on my string. I shoved the pistol back in my holster.
“Tall, what in hell are you doin' here, anyway? There's cavalry and police all over this part of Texas.”
“I came after that red horse,” I said. “Is he ready to go?
Bucky screwed up his face. “I reckon,” he said. “But he could stand fattening up. A horse like Red ain't supposed to take that kind of treatment.”
“Never mind about Red, he can take it. Is Ma doing all right?”