The Devil's Roundup Part 2

Cardigan stifled his surprise. "No...but we've known each other for a long time."

"She's on the other side, isn't she?" Her voice was a sweet, low sound.

The sun made its swing toward the west, and the shadows among the trees began to lengthen.

"Yes, she's on the other side, but sometimes 1 wonder just whose side she really is on."

"That's strange, coming from you. 1 can't imagine your being undecided about anything." She lowered her eyes, and he noticed that the lashes were very long, a delicate veil against her lower lids. "1'm sorry for what 1 said that night in town. 1 had no right to spout off like that."

Cardigan lay back, his hands behind his head. "Everyone's ent.i.tled to an opinion."

"But not that kind of an opinion." She rolled over so she could look at him. "I was so sure you were arrogant and cruel ...1 learned differently that night."

"Arrogance is something we ail have, to one degree or another. A man has to live with it and try not to let it show too often." He pulled his hat over his eyes.

She took it away gently, and sailed it a few feet away. "Don't hide your face from me, Wes. Don't ever hide anything from me."

Her voice was a low, strumming chord, and he sat up suddenly, gripping her by the shoulders. "You don't know me, Lila. You've only met me twice in your life." Somehow he wasn't surprised that the nearness of her, and the touch of her round shoulders beneath his hands inflamed him. He looked into her eyes and felt himself pulling her to him, unable to stop himself. She came against him willingly, and her lips burned his mouth with a searching pa.s.sion that struck him like a blinding ray of light after years of blindness.

He felt the muscles of her back move as she wrapped her arms around him, and her firm b.r.e.a.s.t.s pushed against the worn flannel of his s.h.i.+rt. He ran a trembling hand through the gold of her hair, then he pulled away. His voice was unsteady. "This is foolishness.. .insane."

"How long does it take, Wes? Deny that you felt this way the first time you saw me. I read it in your eyes. Look at me and tell yourself that you didn't believe 1 was attracted to you."

She searched his face, and he smiled.

"See, you did feel it. If we both feel this way, what sense is there in pretending that it doesn't exist?"

Cardigan glanced at the lengthening shadows and stood up, pulling her to her feet. She made no attempt to move away from him, but stood with the supple outline of her body pressed against him. "I'll tell my mother and father tonight."

"Your father will wonder what kind of man 1 am," Cardigan said.

She smiled, stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. "He already knows," she said, and started to walk away.

"Wait!" he said. "How do you know I'll come back?"

Small puckers formed in the corners of her mouth, and a devil pulsated in the depths of her eyes. "We have kissed," she said simply. "You'll come back."

"You're a positive little witch, Lila."

"Aren't you a positive man?" she countered, and turned to walk sedately away.

Cardigan watched her for a long while before mounting his horse to ride into the timber.

IV.

Lights bobbed across the verandah as he rode into the yard, and the riders were gathered in a loose knot by the well curbing. Turkey Jack ran from the bunkhouse, a lantern waving wildly in his hand. Cardigan swung from the horse, elbowed his way to the center. Someone had hung a lantern by the well frame, and he saw Ed-John lying on a doubled blanket, grinning in spite of the pain that laced him. Cardigan saw the dark spread of blood on the rider's ripped pants' legs and cursed. He knelt beside the man and asked: "What the h.e.l.l happened here?" He looked around him, the lantern sending winking shadows across the drawn faces of the men.

Slab pawed the dirt with his toe, and blurted: "Me and EdJohn and Harry and Slats was drivin' them critters like you ordered, boss. We bedded 'em down for a nice quiet night when all h.e.l.l broke loose. Bitter Creek and three Leaning Seven riders snipped their way through the fence and cut down on us with rifles. They got three bulls the first volley, and we scattered. The herd started to mill, and, since there was considerable shootin', me and Harry and Slats lit out for help."

Cardigan s.h.i.+fted his eyes between Slats and Harry, a young, heavy-set 'puncher, lounging in the shadows. "You left this boy to stay out there all alone?"

"It was all right, boss," Ed-John said. "I was on the far side of the herd when they hit, and everyone figured 1 was a goner. I would 'a' been iffen it hadn't been for them danged bulls actin' the way they did. Some son-of-a-gun put a bullet through the shoulder of my horse, and I took a header into the gra.s.s. 1 guess then's when 1 busted this pin. Bitter Creek and those hairpins with him must 'a' figured I'm down for good, 'cause they lit out after Harry, Slats, and Slab. Me, I figured to get gored or trampled when them critters got the prod. You know how a longhorn is when he sees a man afoot... he'll gore, but these crazy doggies just went on grazin' and steppin' light around me." He made a small motion toward his b.l.o.o.d.y leg. "1 managed to work my way to the edge of the herd, and Harry and Slats picked me up and brung me here."

The murmuring rose in volume as they talked it over among themselves. Cardigan quieted them and said: "All right, now you can see the difference between a shorthorn and a wild Texas steer. You brush-poppers may think it's a lot more courageous to rope and brand one of those wild h.e.l.lions, but if Ed-John had fallen among them, we'd have maybe found strips of b.l.o.o.d.y cloth and lost one of the best riders that ever forked a horse. You men wanted to quit. All right, quit then. Quit now! Quit, and get out."

They glanced at each other in silence. Slats cleared his throat. "Guess I'll stay on," he said, and the others took up the chorus.

Cardigan waited until they had talked it out, and said: "Fine, but we have a little ch.o.r.e to do. You boys take Ed-John to the bunkhouse and have Cookie set that leg." He waited until they had staggered away with their burden, then turned to Turkey Jack. "Bitter Creek must have snipped the wire along that mile stretch that's pa.s.sable from Leaning Seven. Take Harry and Joe up there and put it up again."

"Now... tonight?"

"Why not? There's a moon." Turkey Jack turned away, but Cardigan's voice halted him. "Another thing. Leave Harry and Joe there with rifles. You can stay if you want. When Bitter Creek shows up again.. .and it's my guess he will.. .bring him back here to me."

Turkey Jack nodded. Cardigan touched another rider, known as p.u.s.s.y Foot. "Here," he said. "I'll give you a note. Ride up to the line shack above Devil's Gorge and give it to the people living there." The man nodded, and Cardigan added: "Better hitch up the buckboard. You might bring a woman back with you. Ed-John'll need help."

The man trotted toward the barn. Cardigan tore the back from an old envelope and wrote: Lila, One of my men broke a leg. We can spare no one to stay with him. Will you come?

Wes p.u.s.s.y Foot wheeled the buckboard up, paused to accept the note, then stormed out of the yard.

Turkey Jack ambled in from the darkness and asked: "Where the h.e.l.l's he goin'?"

"Errand."

He grunted at the short answer, and asked: "You comin'? We're ready."

"Later maybe."

"What makes you think he'll come back?"

"He's proud," Cardigan said. "He'll come back."

"Then what?"

"1 don't know. You know the man better than I do. You're the one who hates him. 1 don't," Cardigan said.

Turkey Jack pressed his lips together and murmured: "He's a tough one, Wes."

"I lost three blooded bulls tonight and a d.a.m.ned good man was put out of commission. Be as rough as you like." He turned then, walking toward the house with long, angry strides.

Cardigan woke her when he threw another log on the fireplace. She threw the robe back, and he caught a brief glimpse of a rounded calf and a slim ankle as she swung her feet to the floor. The first pale streaks of dawn filtered into the living room, turning the shadows gray. Cardigan grinned at her, and asked: "A bad night?"

"Bad for him." She nodded seriously toward the bunkhouse. "He suffered a great deal, but he never complained." She turned around, facing away from him. "Rub the kinks out of my back. That settee is hardly the last word in comfort." She sighed contentedly as he ma.s.saged her back. "Wes, who is he?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Ed-John? A kid, all Texan, tough, proud, fast with a gun, who'll ride anything with hair on it."

"He's a gentle boy," she murmured.

"Most strong men are," he said mildly.

She spun around, and laced her arms around his neck. Her breath was sweet and warm against his cheek. "You know who did it to Ed-John, don't you?"

He nodded.

"What are you going to do to the man?"

He moved away from her, troubled by his earlier decision. He had no wish to lie to her, so he said softly: "Send him home across a saddle maybe. Maybe I'll let him go. 1 don't know."

"How does it end, then? With either you or him dead, or both? A woman holding you in her arms and crying her heart out because her dreams are ended.. .is that the way it'll end?"

Her words beat against him, and he waved his hand futilely. "1 don't know, Lila... maybe. Things sometimes take a funny turn."

He crossed to blow out the lamp, then stopped, listening to the pounding hoofs in the ranch yard. He made the door in one driving leap, snaking the gun from his holster as light, hurried steps crossed the porch.

The door flew open. He lowered the gun as Julia Ackerman halted at the threshold. Her hot eyes flickered over Lila, and Cardigan knew that she had read the whole thing wrongly. Her voice was cold and dead as she spoke. "Ask me what I'm doing here, Wes...go ahead, ask me!"

"What are you doing here?"

"1 came to bring you the news. 1 came to tell you that you could be proud of the fact that your murder was committed, and you've no blood on your hands. That hateful Turkey Jack! Bitter Creek is dead! Turkey Jack tied his horse to our corral an hour before dawn. He'd hanged him!"

Cardigan opened his mouth and then, controlling himself, said: "All right, we have one crazy gunman less. What of it?"

"What of it!" she echoed. Her voice rose to a scream. "What of your promise? You promised me he wouldn't be harmed, and you lied. You broke your word to me!"

Cardigan opened his mouth to deny her charge, then realized it would be impossible to convince her. Turkey Jack had taken the opportunity chance offered him, and now Cardigan had to back him. He pulled his face into a cold mask. "Your own father has done no less."

"But he did it! He didn't send one of his flunkies out to pull the rope while he made up to a nester tramp!"

Cardigan's hand traveled in a vicious sweep, and he slapped her heavily. Julia staggered back as Cardigan snarled: "Get out of here! No one asked you to come around here blabbing your mouth off. Now, get out and don't ever come back!"

Tears rolled freely down the girl's face, and she fingered the angry splotch where Cardigan's hand had struck her. She crossed to the door, and paused there. "I loved you, Wes. I thought 1 could make you love me, but you were cold, very cold. Now, you've killed the love 1 had for you. I want to see you dead. 1 want to see you dead, and I'll dance a jig on your coffin." She spoke softly, but her voice was filled with a hatred Cardigan could hardly credit. She shot Lila a contemptuous glance and said: "Take him. I'm through with him. Enjoy him while you can!"

Julia, her head high, wheeled through the door. Cardigan listened to her boots pound off the porch, then the sound of her horse's hoofs fading into the distance. He fished in his pocket, and lit a cigar with fingers that shook.

Lila stepped close to him, pressing herself against his broad back, her arms around him. "Don't blame yourself. It's done now."

Cardigan turned slowly and said quietly: "No. It's just begun. Turkey Jack is a marked man, but he doesn't know it yet." He moved away from her and, taking his hat, went outside to saddle up his horse.

He paused a mile from the Ackerman ranch house, a loose cl.u.s.ter of buildings against the flatness, and dropped his gun belt to the gra.s.s. He lifted the blue into a trot, and a half hour later slowed to a walk as he crossed the littered ranch yard. When he saw Ackerman sitting on the wide verandah, he stopped and crossed his hands on the saddle horn.

"Just keep 'em there!" Amos called.

"My intentions are peaceful. 1 came to talk peace, not war."

"It looked like you wanted peace last night."

"A regrettable mistake," Cardigan said. "1 don't suppose you'd believe me if I said I neither ordered that, nor had anything to do with it."

"No, I wouldn't," Amos said coldly.

"He worked for you, too," Cardigan said. "It started here on your ranch, this thing between Turkey Jack and Bitter Creek." He watched the old man, trying to gauge the effect of his words. "1 want it to end, Amos. 1 don't know what Bitter Creek was to you, but I mean it when 1 say 1 want to bring it to an end."

"You're a dead man, Cardigan," Amos said, "and your fence is as good as tore down, and your blooded bulls shot."

Cardigan lifted the reins, and the old man stood up quickly, throwing the rifle to his shoulder in one smooth motion. Cardigan felt the muscles bracketing his stomach jump as the bore centered between his eyes.

Ackerman's voice was a hoa.r.s.e croak. "Ride out before I squeeze off! Ride out! And the next time 1 see you, you'll be dead!"

Cardigan's face was pale beneath his tan as he turned his horse, letting him walk out of the yard. He didn't look back until he paused to retrieve his dropped gun belt. Then he leaned against the shoulder of his horse and shook. He waited ten minutes before swinging into the saddle.

V.

He recognized Miles Straight's mare and Pete Kerry's roan as he pa.s.sed the corral. He tied his horse by the barn, walked easily toward the men gathered on his porch. Lila moved among them, serving coffee and rolls, and Cardigan saw Jim Overmile leaning against the far corner of the porch. Rifles lay loosely stacked on the bottom step, and coat pockets bulged with cartridges. Cardigan paused with one foot on the bottom step, and gave Lila a wan smile before saying to the men: "What is this, a council of war?"

Pete Kerry bit off a generous chew and shoved it to the corner of his mouth. "Ain't you in the middle of a war?"

Cardigan shook his head. "Not your war."

"d.a.m.ned if that's so," Straight said. "You gave us the land. If you lose, then we lose, too, and, dammit, 1 like it here."

Cardigan glanced at Overmile. "1 still say it isn't your war. Take Lila home with you when you go back. Things may get a little rough."

"She won't come, Wes," Overmile said.

Cardigan raised his head as Jim's wife came out of the house, and sank into his rocking chair. He appealed to her. "Can't you make Lila see why 1 want her away from here?"

Amy Overmile smiled. "She's headstrong, Wes. It's one of her failings."

Cardigan glanced at the girl, and she smiled at him before going into the house. He scrubbed a hand across the stubble covering his face. His eyes burned, and his nerves felt stretched like a rawhide rope. He nodded solemnly, and sat down on the step. "You're right. 1 do need help ...bad." He found a short stick and drew a map in the dust. "This is the way the land lies. This valley is higher than the land around us. There's a break in the mountains... a low pa.s.s, and that's where Bitter Creek and his men came through. That's where they'll come through again, but they have to cut that wire to make it."

"What are you figuring?" Straight inquired.

"Ackerman has men and a hate, now," Cardigan stated. "There's no telling when he'll strike, but 1 have to be ready for him when he comes. I have to have warning. I'll station you men up on the bluffs above Mix Canon, and you can see for miles around... even at night. Work in eight hour s.h.i.+fts, and, when you see any movement below on the Leaning Seven, ride like blazes and tell me."

"That sounds good," Kerry said. "When do we start?"

"Tonight," Cardigan said, and went into the house.

The soft squeal of the door and a soft hand woke him. He took it, and pressed his lips against her hot palm. Lila sat on the edge of his bed as Cardigan pawed at the sleep lingering in his eyes. He rubbed the soft down on her arm, and asked quietly: "What is it?"

She nodded toward the door. "Turkey Jack is waiting out in the hall. He wants to see you, says it's real important."

Cardigan sat up. "What time is it?"

"After eleven."

"Your folks still here?"

Lila nodded. "Dad's up on the bluff. Mother's asleep in the spare room."