“I doubt it. He has a reputation as a gun hand. So have I. Often two such men hunt each other up just to see which is best, and the men of this wagon train know that. They like to talk about such things over a campfire, and men always have. I expect that in the days of the knights in armour the various fighters would go miles to find each other, and before them cavemen with stone clubs.
“The trouble is that such talk will often lead to a fight, for gun fighters are often jealous of their reputations, and they hear a lot of talk about who is the fastest, until finally they begin to wonder themselves. From there it is just a step to an actual fight.”
“Like you and Spinner Johns?”
“That was different.”
“You mean,” she asked carefully, “that you believe he was sent to kill you?”
“Where did you get that idea?”
“Barney heard it. He likes you, and he hears a lot of gossip among the men. Some of them believe he was sent to kill you.”
“I don’t know why he came. I had never seen him before.”
“You’ve heard that silly talk about Clive sending him?” She looked at him searchingly.
“Yes. Did Barney tell you that, too?”
“No, I heard that from two other men. Mr. Reutz and Elam Brooks thought it curious.”
He changed the subject deliberately. “That brother of yours is quite a fellow. He’s considerable of a man, if you ask me. This country is made to order for him.”
“If he doesn’t become a gunman, he has been practicing.”
“He should. It might come in handy, sometime. After all,” he looked at her quickly, anxious that she understand this point, “this country is still wild. There are Indians here, and white renegades that are worse. These men are savage, they understand only the law of force, and if one is to live in such a country one must be prepared to protect those one loves and the things one lives by.
“But you need not worry about Barney. He isn’t the stuff of which gunmen are made.”
She looked around at him suddenly. “Who’s your girl? Is it that pretty Stark girl? Sarah?”
He blushed suddenly. “Gosh, no! I don’t have a girl.”
“Or is it that girl in the light wagon back there?” There was genuine questioning in her eyes now and he realized she had been leading up to this.
He hesitated only an instant. “What girl? You mean Joe’s brother?”
“I heard Joe’s brother was a girl.”
He was not sure of that, but he believed Abel Bain’s guess could be right. There was certainly something mysterious about that light wagon. “Whoever gave you that idea?”
“Clive. He says you’re keeping a girl back there, dressed as a man.”
“He’s mistaken. If there is a girl back there, it is none of my business, and I don’t know that there is.”
“Are you still suspicious about this wagon train? I remember how you tried to warn us in the hotel.”
He avoided the issue by seeming to misunderstand the question. “You mean, do I doubt there is gold along the Shell? No, I can’t say that I do. There is very likely to be gold there, and certainly, whether there is or not it is one of the most beautiful regions in the west. For myself, I don’t care whether there is or not. I have other plans.”
“What sort of plans?”
“A ranch in the Big Horn basin. A ranch where I can see the mist rising over the valley in the morning and where I can see my cattle grazing on the long grass. A place of my own, just a long, low rambling place with lots of comfort and security, with good, cold water, a lot of beauty around me, and a chance to do something that will add to the country instead of just looting it.”
“A wife? Or have you a wife somewhere?”
“No, to the last question. I have no wife, and haven’t had. As to whether I want one: of course. Schopenhauer said that happiness was born a twin. I believe that. Nothing is quite so beautiful as when you share it with someone else. There is no purpose in working unless one work for someone, for something.”
“A gunfighter who quotes Schopenhauer! What next?”
“You’d be surprised at some of the men you see in the west. Don’t get an idea because they wear guns and use them that all these men are ignorant and uneducated. Some of the most brilliant men in the world have come west as pioneers, men of intelligence and ability in every line. Around these campfires I’ve heard men discuss questions of philosophy in a manner that would do justice to Berkeley or Hume.”
“Then it isn’t gold you’re looking for?”
“Of course not. Gold can mean power, luxury, women, liquor, and whatever a man wants in that line, but gold always means struggle, war. I don’t want that. I’m a man who knows what he wants, a home, a ranch, time to work without strain, and time to live. Why fight my life away to have as much as or more than someone else? Soon the years are gone and all there is to remember is a lot of empty struggle, and one is too old to enjoy what was gained.”
“What was the trouble between you and Colonel Pearson?”
He looked around at her quickly. “What is this? An inquisition?” He shrugged, smiling. “It was quite important at the time. We had a difference of opinion about a little matter of tactics in an Indian fight down south of here, a long way south.”
“Was he in command?”
“Yes. I was a civilian scout.”
He studied the horizon, his eyes narrowing. “We’re going to have a storm, and a bad one. We’d better start back.”
Without actually being aware of it, they had ridden on ahead of the wagon train. They were far out of sight of it now, and Matt could see the thickening along the horizon. He knew how quickly storms could strike in this region, and how fierce they could be.
Even as he spoke a wind had begun to stir the tall grass. It was gratefully cooling, but he could feel the rain in it. They swung their horses and started back for the wagon train. The horses were eager to run, so they let them go, and behind them the wind suddenly swept down, bringing with it a spatter of rain. A moment later the plain went gray before them with a steel streaked curtain of pounding rain.
The rain stirred the dust bringing a queer smell from the hot dust lying in the grass, and from the grass itself. Jacquine glanced over at him, her eyes bright with laughter. He grinned in response, the rain soaking his shirt and running down his body under his clothes. The dun had turned black now with rain, but the horses seem to welcome the coolness after the long heat of the day.
They rode down on the wagon train, riding neck and neck at a dead run, soaked to the skin and laughing. As they reached the train, she swung off toward her own wagons, lifting a hand to wave at him, and he swung along side of Tolliver and ducked his head into the back of the wagon for his slicker.
It was only then he recalled his earlier thoughts, his decision about what must be done. He must see Lute Harless right away. Lute, Stark, and the others.
A half hour later it had become too dark and too muddy to travel. They swung the wagon train in a circle within a circle, and gathered the stock inside it. Tonight it would be dangerous to let them graze outside, for they would drift for miles before the driving rain and wind. Usually, the oxen could be safely turned loose, for they rarely travelled far. It was one of the many advantages they had for use on the plains.
Matt found shelter for the zebra dun, and rubbed it down. He thought over what he would tell the others while doing it. Supper was a hurried meal, a matter of getting a plateful of food and rushing to a wagon to eat. Otherwise the pounding rain wrecked and chilled the food.
When he had finished eating, Matt got up. He glanced around at big Bill Shedd. “Stick close by, Bill. Keep an eye on both wagons. I’ll be gone for awhile.”
Shedd glanced at him thoughtfully, lighting his pipe. “All right.” He inhaled deeply. “Them wagons in A Company,” he said suddenly, “loaded mighty light, ain’t they?”
Bardoul nodded.
“Seems funny. Goin’ west to organize a town, an’ one of the main stems ain’t carryin’ much.”
Matt pulled on his slicker again, looking past the lantern at Shedd. The big man puzzled him. He was huge, fat around the belt, and usually untidy, but sometimes there was an expression in his eyes that made Matt wonder if he was the big, simple sort of man he seemed. “You think about that, Bill,” he said, “but don’t talk about it.”