[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
the
while. He had the pleasant voice I'd remembered, and the easy way of moving.
Glancing over at them, it came over me that Pa was here ... he was alive. I'd
been too stunned to take it in rightly before, and it was going to take some
getting used to.
His eyes were on me as I shook up that bread, and I suppose he was wondering
what sort of a man I'd become. But there was something else in his mind, too.
"You speak as if you'd had no schooling," he said. "Not that it's better or
worse than most men speak out here."
"We'll have to talk to Caffrey," I said. "He used your money for his own
self.
I've been caring for myself at your old cabin since I was twelve." Looking up
at
him, I grinned. "With some help now and again from the Cherokees."
"I worried about Caffrey," Pa said, "but I was in a hurry to get off. And
that
reminds me. We'd best get out of here. If they find me with you, you'll all
be
Page 95
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
shot."
"Not without that gold," I said. "We came this far for it"
"There's some all ready to go," Pa said. "I've taken it out myself. The
rest most of it will take time."
Gin looked over at me. "Orlando, I think he's right. He's a sick man. The way
his breathing sounds, he may be getting pneumonia."
The word had a dread sound, and it shook me. Miguel was sleeping, but it came
on
me then that we'd best move the cattle a little way, like to new bedding
grounds, but hold them ready for a fast move when darkness came.
"Is that gold where it can be laid hands on?" I asked.
"It is."
"We'll move the cattle on to the end of the inlet and bed down there, like
for
night. Short of midnight we'll make our run."
My mind was thinking ahead. Gin probably was making the right guess, for Pa
looked bad. He had been lying out in the brush without so much as a coat,
just
shirt and pants. Even his boots were worn through and soaked.
Leisurely, we rounded up the cattle, with Pa keeping from sight in the brush,
and we walked them on not more than a mile. Then, late afternoon, we built
ourselves a new fire and settled down as if for the night. Rounding up those
placid steers I'd been keeping my eyes on, we brought them up to camp. Then,
with Pa resting, we waited the coming of night.
Miguel was restless. He never was far from his horse, and he worried himself
until he was taut as a drumhead, watching the brush, listening, afraid
something
would go wrong before we could get away.
"I'm going into Guadalupe," I said to him. "We need a couple of horses."
There was no way he could deny that, although he wished to. We had no mount
for
Pa, and if we made a run for it, we'd be riding from here clean to the
Page 96
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
border.
Miguel shrugged. "I think it is safe enough," he admitted reluctantly, "and
we
have reason to get horses."
Gin had money. She had more than I did, which wasn't much, so she turned over
a
hundred dollars to me and I saddled up the dun. Just before I left, I walked
over to where Pa was lying, with Gin setting beside him. No question but he
looked bad.
"You take it easy," I said. "I'll get two, three horses and come back."
"What about pack horses? For the gold?"
"Packs would make the Mexicans mighty curious, so I figured on steers. Nobody
will pay any attention to the herd."
"They'll be seen."
"Maybe ... but with horns moving, and the dust, the shifting around of the
animals ... I think we've got a chance."
It was a mite over four miles to Guadalupe, and not even a dozen buildings
when
I got there, most of them adobe. There was a cantina, a closed-up store, and
the
office of the alcalde, with a jail behind it. The rest were scattered houses
and
one warehouse.
In a corral were several rough-looking horses, but nobody was around. The air
was chill, offering rain. At the hitch-rail of the cantina stood more horses,
three of them led stock. I tied up the dun and went inside.
It was a low, dark room with a bar and several tables. Three men were at the
bar, two of them standing together, their backs to me. A broad-shouldered
Mexican with a sombrero hanging down his back by the chin-strap, and crossed
cartridge belts on his chest, stood at the end of the bar, a bottle before
him.
He looked like a Herrara man to me. The other two were lounging with a bottle
Page 97
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
between them. The Herrara man was obviously interested in them.
Walking up to the bar, I put my elbows on it and ordered a beer.
The operator of the cantina accepted my money and flashed a brief smile at
me,
but in his eyes I thought there was a warning, an almost imperceptible
gesture
toward the Herrara man, if such he was.
"Holding cattle outside of town," I said suddenly. "We've played out our
horses.
Know where I can buy a couple, cheap?"
For maybe a minute nobody made any sign they'd heard me, and then the man
next
to me said, "I have three horses, and I will sell but not cheap."
It was the Tinker.
Without turning my head, I picked up my bottle of beer and emptied the rest
of
it into my glass. "Another," I said, gesturing.
"I saw them," I added, "at the rail. They are fit for buzzards."
"They are good horses," The Tinker protested. "I had not considered selling
them
until you spoke. The buckskin ... there is a horse!"
"I'll give you eight dollars for him," I said, and tasted my beer.
For half an hour we argued and debated back and forth. Finally I said, "All
right, twelve dollars for the buckskin, fifteen for the bay the paint I do
not
want."
The Tinker and his silent companion, at whom I had not dared to look for fear
of
drawing attention to him, seemed to be growing drunk. The Tinker clapped me
on
the shoulder. "You are a good man," he said drunkenly, "a very good man! You
need the horses all right, I shall sell you the horses. You may have all
three
for forty dollars and a good meal ... it is my last price."
I shrugged. "All right but if you want the meal, come to camp. Forty dollars
is
Page 98
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
all the money I have."
There on the bar I paid it to him in pesos, and we walked outside, the Tinker
talking drunkenly. The Herrara man's eyes were drilling into my back.
"He's watching us," the Tinker said as I stopped to look over the horses.
Straightening up, I looked into the eyes of the other man Jonas Locklear.
"Cortina had me turned loose," he said, "on condition I get out of the
country.
He didn't want Herrara to know for the present."
Mounting up, we rode swiftly from the town. By the time we reached camp it
was
near to sunset. Pa was up, had a gun strapped on that Miguel had taken from
our
gear, and he was watching the sun.
"The only place they can watch us from," he said, "is that dune. It looks
over
the whole country around here. It's over seventy feet high, and in this
country
that's a mountain along the coast, that is. If we wait about ten or fifteen
minutes, the sun will be shining right in the eyes of anybody watching from
that
dune. That's when we'll go for the gold."
We now mustered six rifles, a good force by anybody's count, for Gin could
shoot or said she could, and I believed her. We made beds ready, built up the
fire, and put coffee on, and grub. Miguel was cooking.
When the sun got low enough, Pa, the Tinker and me took a few canvas bags
we'd
brought along a-purpose, and with two steers we headed off into the brush.
One
of the steers showed old marks that looked like he'd been used as a draft
animal
sometime in the past. Both were easily handled.
As we walked, Pa said, "I dove for this gold, got it out of the sand on the
bottom. Most of the hull is still intact, and most of the gold will be
inside,
but I brought up enough to make it pay. We'll take this and run; then we'll
Page 99
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
wait [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl rafalstec.xlx.pl
the
while. He had the pleasant voice I'd remembered, and the easy way of moving.
Glancing over at them, it came over me that Pa was here ... he was alive. I'd
been too stunned to take it in rightly before, and it was going to take some
getting used to.
His eyes were on me as I shook up that bread, and I suppose he was wondering
what sort of a man I'd become. But there was something else in his mind, too.
"You speak as if you'd had no schooling," he said. "Not that it's better or
worse than most men speak out here."
"We'll have to talk to Caffrey," I said. "He used your money for his own
self.
I've been caring for myself at your old cabin since I was twelve." Looking up
at
him, I grinned. "With some help now and again from the Cherokees."
"I worried about Caffrey," Pa said, "but I was in a hurry to get off. And
that
reminds me. We'd best get out of here. If they find me with you, you'll all
be
Page 95
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
shot."
"Not without that gold," I said. "We came this far for it"
"There's some all ready to go," Pa said. "I've taken it out myself. The
rest most of it will take time."
Gin looked over at me. "Orlando, I think he's right. He's a sick man. The way
his breathing sounds, he may be getting pneumonia."
The word had a dread sound, and it shook me. Miguel was sleeping, but it came
on
me then that we'd best move the cattle a little way, like to new bedding
grounds, but hold them ready for a fast move when darkness came.
"Is that gold where it can be laid hands on?" I asked.
"It is."
"We'll move the cattle on to the end of the inlet and bed down there, like
for
night. Short of midnight we'll make our run."
My mind was thinking ahead. Gin probably was making the right guess, for Pa
looked bad. He had been lying out in the brush without so much as a coat,
just
shirt and pants. Even his boots were worn through and soaked.
Leisurely, we rounded up the cattle, with Pa keeping from sight in the brush,
and we walked them on not more than a mile. Then, late afternoon, we built
ourselves a new fire and settled down as if for the night. Rounding up those
placid steers I'd been keeping my eyes on, we brought them up to camp. Then,
with Pa resting, we waited the coming of night.
Miguel was restless. He never was far from his horse, and he worried himself
until he was taut as a drumhead, watching the brush, listening, afraid
something
would go wrong before we could get away.
"I'm going into Guadalupe," I said to him. "We need a couple of horses."
There was no way he could deny that, although he wished to. We had no mount
for
Pa, and if we made a run for it, we'd be riding from here clean to the
Page 96
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
border.
Miguel shrugged. "I think it is safe enough," he admitted reluctantly, "and
we
have reason to get horses."
Gin had money. She had more than I did, which wasn't much, so she turned over
a
hundred dollars to me and I saddled up the dun. Just before I left, I walked
over to where Pa was lying, with Gin setting beside him. No question but he
looked bad.
"You take it easy," I said. "I'll get two, three horses and come back."
"What about pack horses? For the gold?"
"Packs would make the Mexicans mighty curious, so I figured on steers. Nobody
will pay any attention to the herd."
"They'll be seen."
"Maybe ... but with horns moving, and the dust, the shifting around of the
animals ... I think we've got a chance."
It was a mite over four miles to Guadalupe, and not even a dozen buildings
when
I got there, most of them adobe. There was a cantina, a closed-up store, and
the
office of the alcalde, with a jail behind it. The rest were scattered houses
and
one warehouse.
In a corral were several rough-looking horses, but nobody was around. The air
was chill, offering rain. At the hitch-rail of the cantina stood more horses,
three of them led stock. I tied up the dun and went inside.
It was a low, dark room with a bar and several tables. Three men were at the
bar, two of them standing together, their backs to me. A broad-shouldered
Mexican with a sombrero hanging down his back by the chin-strap, and crossed
cartridge belts on his chest, stood at the end of the bar, a bottle before
him.
He looked like a Herrara man to me. The other two were lounging with a bottle
Page 97
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
between them. The Herrara man was obviously interested in them.
Walking up to the bar, I put my elbows on it and ordered a beer.
The operator of the cantina accepted my money and flashed a brief smile at
me,
but in his eyes I thought there was a warning, an almost imperceptible
gesture
toward the Herrara man, if such he was.
"Holding cattle outside of town," I said suddenly. "We've played out our
horses.
Know where I can buy a couple, cheap?"
For maybe a minute nobody made any sign they'd heard me, and then the man
next
to me said, "I have three horses, and I will sell but not cheap."
It was the Tinker.
Without turning my head, I picked up my bottle of beer and emptied the rest
of
it into my glass. "Another," I said, gesturing.
"I saw them," I added, "at the rail. They are fit for buzzards."
"They are good horses," The Tinker protested. "I had not considered selling
them
until you spoke. The buckskin ... there is a horse!"
"I'll give you eight dollars for him," I said, and tasted my beer.
For half an hour we argued and debated back and forth. Finally I said, "All
right, twelve dollars for the buckskin, fifteen for the bay the paint I do
not
want."
The Tinker and his silent companion, at whom I had not dared to look for fear
of
drawing attention to him, seemed to be growing drunk. The Tinker clapped me
on
the shoulder. "You are a good man," he said drunkenly, "a very good man! You
need the horses all right, I shall sell you the horses. You may have all
three
for forty dollars and a good meal ... it is my last price."
I shrugged. "All right but if you want the meal, come to camp. Forty dollars
is
Page 98
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
all the money I have."
There on the bar I paid it to him in pesos, and we walked outside, the Tinker
talking drunkenly. The Herrara man's eyes were drilling into my back.
"He's watching us," the Tinker said as I stopped to look over the horses.
Straightening up, I looked into the eyes of the other man Jonas Locklear.
"Cortina had me turned loose," he said, "on condition I get out of the
country.
He didn't want Herrara to know for the present."
Mounting up, we rode swiftly from the town. By the time we reached camp it
was
near to sunset. Pa was up, had a gun strapped on that Miguel had taken from
our
gear, and he was watching the sun.
"The only place they can watch us from," he said, "is that dune. It looks
over
the whole country around here. It's over seventy feet high, and in this
country
that's a mountain along the coast, that is. If we wait about ten or fifteen
minutes, the sun will be shining right in the eyes of anybody watching from
that
dune. That's when we'll go for the gold."
We now mustered six rifles, a good force by anybody's count, for Gin could
shoot or said she could, and I believed her. We made beds ready, built up the
fire, and put coffee on, and grub. Miguel was cooking.
When the sun got low enough, Pa, the Tinker and me took a few canvas bags
we'd
brought along a-purpose, and with two steers we headed off into the brush.
One
of the steers showed old marks that looked like he'd been used as a draft
animal
sometime in the past. Both were easily handled.
As we walked, Pa said, "I dove for this gold, got it out of the sand on the
bottom. Most of the hull is still intact, and most of the gold will be
inside,
but I brought up enough to make it pay. We'll take this and run; then we'll
Page 99
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
wait [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]