Jan looked at him curiously, her eyes flickering to the elegant and composed young woman across the room. She changed the subject. “Are you going to be with us long, Mr. Shanaghy?”
“It is in my thoughts,” he said, “although there be some who hope I’ll not.” The cool young woman looked up. “Isn’t the life expectancy in your kind of job rather short?”
“It is. Although while I live, the life expectancies of those who break the law will be even less.”
He turned from her and began to talk to Jan Pendleton of horses, range, Josh Lundy. “Do you know Mr. Patterson?” he asked suddenly, remembering that her father sometimes bought cattle from him.
“Oh, of course! Uncle Vince is a lovely man! He can be very stern, I suppose, but I’ve never seen him that way. Whenever he is here he stays with us, and he has such wonderful stories to tell. He gave me my first horse.” “The one that was stolen?”
“The very same. I am glad Josh got it back before Uncle Vince returned, because he would have been furious.”
“Seems to me he’s already sore at Hank Drako.”
“He is.” She looked at him seriously. “Mr. Shanaghy, you must not let there be trouble. Father says Uncle Vince may burn the town. He holds all of them responsible for the killing of his brother.”
“He’ll not burn it,” Tom said. “There will be no trouble.” The young woman across the room laughed gently, and Tom Shanaghy felt his face flushing. Before he could speak, however, Jan interrupted. “My father is in town and I am sure he would like to meet you. He will wish to thank you for helping Josh.”
Pendleton came in as she was speaking and crossed to the table. After he had talked a bit, Shanaghy said, quite casually, “Mr. Pendleton, you know much of what goes on around here. Do you know of any shipments that have come in during the last couple of days?”
Shanaghy’s eyes were on the woman across the room as he spoke, and he saw her fork suddenly stop in midair. For just an instant she was absolutely still, then she continued to eat.
“What sort of shipments?”
“I am not quite sure, but I’d be guessing it would be something unusual, or to someone not well known here.”
“No … I’m afraid not. But then I am not about town very much. What were you thinking of?”
Shanaghy had been talking only to see the face of the woman across the room, for he was but feeling his way. What could it be, after all? What made it important he be off the train?
Or … the thought came suddenly, what if it was not something but somebody? Suppose there were others hidden on the train who did not wish to chance being seen by a hobo who might climb over the cars looking for a place to hide out? That was it, that had to be it.
Alfred Pendleton spoke with a decided British accent. Although the Irish had no love for the British, it sounded close enough to home to have a pleasant sound. Pendleton asked where Tom was from and Shanaghy replied, “Killarney.”
“A lovely place. We vacationed there once.”
“And now we are all in Kansas,” Jan said.
“And that isn’t strange,” her father remarked. “There are just two lines of railroad to the west, and most people who come out here stop along one or the other. I am constantly meeting people I knew in England or in the eastern states.
“The fastest development will naturally be along the railroads, and the best opportunities.” Pendleton glanced at him. “I suspect you’ve run into some old friends, haven’t you?”
Old friends? What friends did Shanaghy have who might come west? No friends, but what of enemies? Eben Childers was a hater, he had been told, and his men would guess that he took a train to escape them. Finding him would be no great problem. Shanaghy shook his head. “No old friends, and I hope no enemies.” Pendleton talked for a few minutes about the future of Kansas and the way the country was growing and then added, “I think you have chosen wisely, Mr. Shanaghy, in settling here. Carpenter says you are an excellent smith and that you may buy a share of his business.”
There it was again. Everybody was taking it for granted that he was here to stay. Shanaghy was remembering John Morrissey and the Bowery, although the memories had been fading away in the warm Kansas sun and the demands of his new job. Then he remembered and looked around. The woman across the room was gone. “She left a few minutes ago,” Jan said, impishly.
“I was wondering who she was and what she was doing here.”
“No doubt. She’s very attractive, don’t you agree?”
“I wasn’t thinking of that. But she certainly was … is.” “If you are wondering who she is, you could check the register at the hotel,” Pendleton suggested.
“She’s not registered.”
“Not here? But then where … ?”
“Exactly. Where else? She’s not camping on the plains, and nobody sees her coming and going, although Carpenter did see her riding into town one day.” “You’re very interested, aren’t you?” Jan suggested. “Yes, ma’am. When there’s trouble expected, it is my business to know as much as I can. I don’t want anybody to get hurt.”
Shanaghy pushed back his chair. “Have you any message for Vince Patterson? I’m riding to meet him.”
Pendleton shook his head. “If you’re expecting to talk him out of it, forget it. We’ve tried. He’s a stubborn, hardheaded man. But a good man for all of that, and no fool.”
“I’ve got to try.”
“You can tell him hello for me,” Jan said, “and give him my love.” Well, that word did something to him. Shanaghy wished all of a sudden that he was a better man, and he said, “Miss, if that doesn’t do it, nothing will.” Then he turned sharply and left, wondering why he was suddenly feeling all hot and embarrassed.
Tomorrow morning he would be riding out, and suddenly he did not want to go anywhere. He just wanted to stay right here.
When the door closed behind him, Pendleton glanced at his daughter. “An interesting young man,” he commented.
“He’s nice,” she said, “and he’s strong … very strong.”
“Naturally. He’s a blacksmith.”
“I wasn’t thinking of that,” she replied. “Perhaps resolute is the word. I don’t think he knows what he wants yet, but when he makes up his mind … he will get it.”
NINE
The horse Shanaghy rode was a roan, a mustang with a Morgan cross, and the moment he hit the saddle he knew he had a horse. The roan trotted into the street, and the moment he had the room he went to bucking. Shanaghy, who had ridden all his life, had never tackled anything like this. How he stayed with the horse he never knew, but stay he did. And when finally they loped away he heard a cheer from the few scattered people who had watched. There had been last-minute advice from Carpenter. The herd would move about twelve miles per day, perhaps less now, as the grass was good and Patterson would want to bring them in fat for the market. The country, which had appeared flat, proved less so than Shanaghy expected, for there were rolling hills and some deeper ravines. When he was well away from town, he drew up to look around.
As far as the eye could reach there was only grass moving in the wind. These were the fabled buffalo plains, but there were no buffalo now. Far off, he glimpsed a herd of antelope. There was no sound but the wind … For several minutes he sat very still, feeling the wind on his face. The air was fresh, the sky was clear, and somehow the soft wind and the coolness smoothed the troubles from his mind.
Yet … the thought came again … what of that young woman? Who was she? What was she?
That she was not staying anywhere in town was obvious, and he doubted if she could be living with Hank Drako … She simply wasn’t the Drakes’ type. That she might live in the town to the west was possible but doubtful, as she seemed too fresh when she rode into town in the morning. True, she had come but twice, but nonetheless she must have somewhere to live that was close by, providing her with a means to keep her clothes pressed and clean. Where, then?
Puzzling over the question, he rode steadily south, a vast sky above him, a vast sea of grass all about. As he rode, some of the accumulated tension began to dissipate. For the first time in days he began to feel relaxed and rested. He talked to the roan, and the horse twitched his ears, apparently liking the sound of Shanaghy’s voice. Shanaghy had always liked horses and he liked this one. Once, sighting a small seep, he turned aside for it and allowed the horse a slow drink while he sat in the saddle, studying the country. He was riding away when he saw the tracks. He knew nothing of tracking, but he could see that at least three horses had passed that way heading for the seep. Turning, he followed the tracks back and found where the riders had dismounted and waited for some time. There were the tracks of the horses and a number of cigarette butts. Then he found the tracks of a fourth rider who had come in from the northeast. Thoughtfully, Shanaghy studied the tracks. Although he knew little or nothing about “reading sign,” as the westerners called it, he did know a good deal about horseshoes and the shoeing of horses, and this looked like work Carpenter might have done.