He doubted it could be done but he was going to try. Ben Hindeman was a man of single purpose. He had one idea at a time and he never stopped until he had gone through, all the way. It was one of the things that held Jack Sutton from making a break. Ben wouldn’t scare and he would be hard to kill.
“You love this man Jordan?” He asked it suddenly.
“Why you ask that?”
“Don’t know, exactly. Curious, maybe. You done a lot for him.”
“What I do? He is dying … I feex him up. I do it for you. I do it for anyone.”
“You might, at that. You’re a lot of woman.” He turned it over in his mind, searching for something to take hold of. “Don’t like us much, do you?”
“I should like you?” she shrugged, lifting her brows. “My father is keel by you. You try to drive us out. This is our country.”
“We could change that,” he began slowly. “Give you more land. The old man was dead set against sheep. I’m not.” He looked up at her. “I could stake you. Go partners in a herd. You got enough family to handle ’em. We could split fifty-fifty.”
He was sincere, she knew that. And if Hindeman was behind her, nobody else could object. Not out loud.
“What your wife say?” She was faintly amused. Hindeman looked rueful. “Might cause trouble,” he said, “the womenfolks don’t like you much.”
“For no reason. I don’t bother them. I am good girl.”
Ben Hindeman looked up. “I believe you,” he said and was surprised not to have thought of it before. “Yes,” he was thinking of all he had seen and heard, “I’m sure of it. But you know how women are. You look,” he flushed a little, “you look sort of sexy.”
“So? I am woman.”
“Well, how’s about the sheep? Is it a deal?”
“No.”
“Because of my wife?” He hesitated. “I can handle that.”
“Because of what you wish me to tell.”
“Tell us where he is. I’ll pull my men out of here and you can have the sheep.”
“I do not know where he is.”
“He say anything about comin’ back?”
She hesitated and instantly knew her mistake. Quick knowledge came to Hindeman’s eyes. “No,” she said. “Why, come back?”
But she had hesitated too long. Hindeman got to his feet, feeling better. He would come back, all right. He would be worried about this girl. “You send for me when you want to talk. We’ll get him, anyway. But you tell me where he is and I’ll take care of the town. If I say you’re all right, they’ll treat you nice.”
That was true. Hindeman’s was the voice of authority. They might not like it but nobody would go against him. And Trace Jordan might try to come back and be killed. Yet she did not think of Hindeman’s offer; she worried only that Jordan might come back and ride into a trap.
She made coffee and left it at the edge of the fire and then went to the door and told them of it. Then she went to her room but she did not undress. They would drink that coffee. They would drink it to keep themselves awake. But suppose they drank it and never wakened?
There were desert plants that held poison. Many of them she had known since she was a child, Rosa had told her of others. Rosa’s mother had been a famous medicine woman among the Navajo.
But she was no murderess. But suppose they only slept? She did not immediately sleep but lay thinking. Somewhere out there in the desert. Stillness … a pinnacle of rock pointed a beckoning finger at the sky … a quail called into the stillness . .. and there Trace Jordan waited for her.
Angrily she pushed her head into the pillow and after a while, she slept.
The problems Trace Jordan presented were the sort Jacob Lantz relished. Not since he had trailed renegade Apaches had he enjoyed his work so much. There were dozens of good hideaways in the Animas or Guadalupe Mountains but Jordan would push south into the wilderness of the San Luis. Jordan could live in that country because he could live like an Apache. But he would not go far until the girl was with him. So he told Hindeman.
“Nonetheless,” Hindeman said, “well ride after those sheep and have a look. We’ll take Joe with us.”
Lantz looked thoughtfully at the house but said nothing. Leaving Jack behind was asking for trouble and Lantz wanted nothing to happen to that girl. She was his best chance to catch Jordan. An hour after daybreak the three rode away. Jack Sutton rolled a cigarette and watched them go.
Wes Parker sat down, looking expectant. Buck Bayless rubbed his jaw nervously. Maria Cristina saw them and she had seen Hindeman go. She took the butcher knife and placed it under a cloth on the sideboard.
Boots grated on gravel and Jack Sutton stepped in. He was smiling a thin smile but there was no smile in his eyes. “Ben’s gone,” he said.
“Si.” Maria Cristina’s eyes were watchful “I know.”
“I been waitin’ for a chance like this.”
“You are coward. You afraid of him.”
Sutton stepped into the room. “No, not afraid of him. Just smart. Ben gets the work done. He keeps trouble off my shoulders, so I let him have his way.”
“You get out. You no business here.”
Jack Sutton smiled. It was not a nice smile. “I’ve plenty of business here. I’m going to teach you a lesson.”
He walked around the table and stopped in front of her. She made no move to escape. Her eyes watchful, she merely waited, showing no expression.
He lifted his hand, palm open, and then he struck her. Maria Cristina’s eyes widened but she merely stared at him, the print of the blow on her cheek. Her very impassiveness infuriated him. He doubled his fist and, as he did, she jerked the knife from under the cloth. He caught the gleam and whipped back just as the point of the knife ripped up through his shirt.
Stepping back, he tripped over a chair and fell. Instantly Maria Cristina was around him and out of the door. He leaped up and grabbed at her but tripped over the chair again. Then she was through the door and running for the gully.
Wes Parker sprang to catch her but she turned on him and slashed with the knife. He sprang back, swearing, blood streaming from his arm.
The delay had given Sutton time to get to her.
Evading the knife, he knocked her down. Before she could rise he kicked the blade from her hand.
She got up, moving back, her eyes alive with hatred, but he moved in on her and, disdaining her blows, picked her up and carried her back to the house and dumped her. Instantly, she sprang back and stood panting, watching him like an animal at bay.
Outside Wes was swearing, blood streaming from his arm. Buck Bayless stared at the house, his face sweating. He ran his tongue over his lips.
“Don’t stand there like a fool!” Parker yelled. “Fix up my arm!”
Bayless started toward Parker but his attention was on the house. Inside, Maria Cristina stood against the sideboard watching Sutton come toward her.
“I’ve been waiting for this chance,” Sutton said. “And I’ll use it.” He struck her and then, methodically, he began to beat her. Blood trickling from a cut lip, she tried to escape him but he came after her, his fury mounting with each blow. “I’ll kill you!” he said hoarsely. “You —”
“Jack!” That was Buck’s voice. Sutton stopped, fist lifted. Outside he heard the rattle of horses’ hoofs. Angrily he struck out but Maria Cristina was watching and she sprang back, falling to the floor.
As Lantz watched, Ben Hindeman was getting from the saddle. Sutton strode from the house. Hindeman and Sutton faced each other and for a long tense minute, neither spoke. Then Hindeman went past and into the house.
Maria Cristina was just rising from the floor but she lacked the strength and fell back. Hindeman swore softly as he saw her bruised and bloody face. He took her arm to help her up but she jerked free and rose by herself. “You are animal! All are animal! Cowards! You fight women!”
Hindeman’s face showing his shame, he turned quickly and went outside. Jack Sutton was loitering, waiting for him. Hindeman saw the readiness in Sutton. He was ready for a showdown and the very idea made Hindeman impatient. This was no time for that kind of trouble. “Are you crazy?” he demanded. “We need that girl.You kill her and where are we?”
Sutton turned on Lantz when Hindeman had passed. “It was you brought him back, damn you! One of these days I’ll —”