life.”
Cap came back in with a bowl of soup which he started spooning into me. “Last
time I recollect they were shooting holes in me. Did you plug them up?”
“You’ll hold soup. Only maybe all your sand run out.”
On my hand I could see the scar of that cigar burn, almost healed now. That was
one time I was sure enough outsmarted. It was one trick Pa never told me about,
and I’d had to learn it the hard way.
“You took four bullets,” Cap said, “an’ lost a sight more blood than a man can
afford.”
“What about Brady?”
“He lit a shuck whilst they were huntin’ a rope to hang him.” Cap sat down.
“Funny thing. He showed up here the next night.”
“Here?”
“Stopped by to see how you was. Said you were too good a man to die like
that—both of you were damned fools but a man got into a way of livin’ and there
was no way but to go on.”
“The others?”
“Those boys of his were shot to doll rags.”
Outside the door I could see the sunshine on the creek and I could hear the
water chuckling over the rocks, and I got to thinking of Ma and Drusilla, and
one day when I could sit up I looked over at Cap.
“Anything left out there?”
“Ain’t been a day’s wages in weeks. If you figure to do any more minin’ you
better find yourself another crick.”
“We’ll go home. Come morning you saddle up.”
He looked at me skeptically. “Can you set a saddle?”
“If I’m going home. I can sit a saddle if I’m headed for Santa Fe.”
Next morning, Cap and me headed as due south as the country would allow, but it
is a long way in the saddle from Idaho to New Mexico. From time to time we heard
news about Sacketts. Men on the trail carried news along with them and everybody
was on the prod to know all that was going on. The Sackett news was all Orrin
… it would take awhile for the story of what happened at Rose-Marie to get
around and I’d as soon it never did. But Orrin was making a name for himself.
Only there was a rumor that he was to be married.
Cap told me that because he heard it before I did and neither of us made
comments. Cap felt as I did about Laura Pritts and we were afraid it was her.
We rode right to the ranch.
Bob came out to meet us, and Joe was right behind him. Ma had seen us coming up
the road. She came to the steps to meet me. Ma was better than she had been in
years, a credit to few worries and a better climate, I suppose. There was a
Navajo woman helping with the housework now, and for the first time Ma had it
easier.
There were bookshelves in the parlor and both the boys had taken to reading.
There was other news. Don Luis was dead … had been buried only two days ago,
but already the Settlement crowd had moved in. Torres was in bad shape … he
had been ambushed months ago and from what I was told there was small chance
he’d be himself again.
Drusilla was in town.
And Orrin was married to Laura Pritts.
Chapter XIV
Orrin came out to the ranch in the morning, driving a buckboard. He got down and
came to me with his hand out, a handsome man by any standards, wearing black
broadcloth now like he was born to it.
He was older, more sure of himself, and there was a tone of authority in his
voice. Orrin had done all right, no doubt of that, and beneath it all he was the
same man he had always been, only a better man because of the education he had
given himself and the experience behind him.
“It’s good to see you, boy.” He was sizing me up as he talked, and I had to
grin, for I knew his way.
“You’ve had trouble,” he said suddenly, “you’ve been hurt.”
So I told him about Martin Brady and the Rose-Marie, my brief term as marshal,
and the showdown. When he realized how close I’d come to cashing in my chips he
grew a little pale. “Tyrel,” he said slowly, “I know what you’ve been through,
but they need a man right here. They need a deputy sheriff who is honest and I
sure know you’d never draw on anybody without cause.”
“Has somebody been saying the contrary?” I asked him quietly.
“No … no, of course not.” He spoke hastily, and I knew he didn’t want to say
who, which was all the answer I needed.
“Of course, there’s always talk about a man who has to use a gun. Folks don’t
understand.”
He paused. “I suppose you know I’m married?”
“Heard about it. Has Laura been out to see Ma?”
Orrin flushed. “Laura doesn’t take to Ma. Says a woman smoking is indecent, and
smoking a pipe is worse.”
“That may be true,” I replied carefully. “Out here you don’t see it much, but
that’s Ma.”
He kicked at the earth, his face gloomy. “You may think I did wrong, Tyrel, but
I love that girl. She’s … she’s different, Tyrel, she’s so pretty, so
delicate, so refined and everything. A man in politics, he needs a wife like
that. And whatever else you can say about Jonathan, he’s done everything he
could to help me.”
I’ll bet, I said to myself. I’ll just bet he has. And he’ll want a return on it
too. So far I hadn’t noticed Jonathan Pritts being freehanded with anything but
other folks’ land.
“Orrin, if Laura suits you, and if she makes you happy, then it doesn’t matter
who likes her. A man has to live his own life.”
Orrin walked out to the corral with me and leaned on the rail and we stood there
and talked the sun out of the sky and the first stars up before we went in to
dinner. He had learned a lot, and he had been elected to the legislature, and a
good part of it had been the Mexican vote, but at the last minute the Pritts
crowd had gotten behind him, too. He had won by a big majority and in politics a
man who can command votes can be mighty important.
Already they were talking about Orrin for the United States Senate, or even for
governor. Looking at him across the table as he talked to Ma and the boys, I
could see him as a senator … and he’d make a good one.
Orrin was a smart man who had grown smarter. He had no illusions about how a man
got office or kept it, yet he was an honest man, seeking nothing for himself
beyond what he could make in the natural way of things.
“I wanted Tom Sunday for the deputy job,” Orrin said, “he turned it down, saying
he didn’t need any handouts.” Orrin looked at me. “Tye, I didn’t mean it that
way. I liked Tom, and I needed a strong man here.”
“Tom could have handled it,” Cap said. “That’s bad, Tom feelin’ thataway.”
Orrin nodded. “It doesn’t seem right without Tom. He’s changed, Cap. He drinks
too much, but that’s only part of it. He’s like an old bear with a sore tooth,
and I’m afraid there’ll be a killing if it keeps up.”
Orrin looked at me. “Tom always liked you. If there is anybody can keep him in
line it will be you. If anybody else even tried, and that includes me, he would
go for his gun.”
“All right.”
Miguel rode over on the second day and we talked. Drusilla did not want to see
me—he’d been sent to tell me that.
“Why, Miguel?”
“Because of the woman your brother has married. The señorita believes the hatred
of Jonathan Pritts killed her father.”
“I am not my brother’s keeper,” I replied slowly, “nor did I choose his wife.” I
looked up at him. “Miguel, I love the señorita.”
“I know, señor. I know.”
The ranch was moving nicely. The stock we had bought had fattened out nicely,
and some had been sold that year. Bill Sexton was sheriff, and I took to him
right off, but I could also see that he was an office man, built for a swivel
chair and a roll-top desk.
Around Mora I was a known man, and there was mighty little trouble. Once I had
to run down a couple of horse thieves, but I brought them in, without shooting,
after trailing them to where they had holed up, then—after they’d turned in—I
injuned down there and got their guns before I woke them up.
Only once did I see Tom Sunday. He came into town, unshaven and looking might