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listed killings back before the war. He was with the Reynolds gang during the
war."
We stabled the horses, and then I went inside. The rest of them were gathered
around a table eating, and that food surely smelled good.
"We've seen them come in," Sharp told us over coffee, "but not to stay
around. They'd show up, then head for the hills." He looked around at me. "If
they've gone up to Costello's place, he may be in real trouble."
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"If Judith can stay here," I suggested, "we'll ride up and look around."
"I'll not stay!" Judith exclaimed.
"Now, ma'am," Sharp protested.
"I mean it. I have come all the way to see my father, and I won't wait any
longer. I'm going with you." Then she added, looking right at me, "If you
don't take me I'll go by myself."
Well, I looked over at Galloway and he shrugged, and that was all there was
to it. Both of us knew there was no time to be gained arguing with a woman,
and we'd both had a try before this at arguing with Judith.
She went off with Mrs. Sharp, and Sharp sat down with us. "You boys better
ride careful," he said. "That's a bad outfit."
So we told him about the trip west and the loss of the Hawkes herd, the
Half-Box H.
Sharp was thoughtful. When he looked up at us he said, "I'd better warn you,
and when Hawkes comes along you'd better warn him. Fetchen registered a brand
in his own name, the JBF Connected."
Cap chuckled. "Ain't takin' him a while to learn. A JBF Connected would fit
right over a Half-Box H, fit it like a glove. If Hawkes ain't right careful
he'll find all his herd wearin' the wrong brand."
I looked at Sharp. "How are folks hereabouts? Are they understandin'?"
"That depends."
"Maybe the only way we can get those cattle back is to rustle them," I said.
"If he can misbrand cattle, we can just brand 'em over."
"What about that?" Galloway said. "What would cover a JBF Connected?"
"When we were ridin' through Texas," I suggested, "we saw a man down there
who had a Pig-Pen brand. And I heard tell of one with a Spider-Web. They would
cover most anything you could dream up."
"You would have to be careful," Sharp said. "And if you will forgive me, I
would have to see Hawkes's papers on the herd."
"He's got 'em, and he'll be showing up right quick." I paused a minute,
giving it thought. "What we figured, would be to sort of let the word get
around. I mean, about Hawkes's herd and what he figures to do about it."
Sharp chuckled. "Now, that could be right amusing. But you'd have to move
fast. It is about roundup time."
"So much the better. A lot of things can happen during a roundup. Only thing
we want is to have it understood this is strictly between us and the Fetchen
crowd."
"Serve them right," Sharp said. "You just wait until word gets around. You'll
have the whole country on your side."
Nevertheless, I was worried. We had to get back into the hills and scout
around the Costello outfit, and we had to see Costello himself, but Galloway
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and me, we knew that every step of the way would be a step further into
trouble. Whatever the Fetchens were up to, they were also laying a trap for
us, and we were riding up there, maybe right into the trap.
The more we learned, the more we had to worry about. Evan Hawkes was still
far behind us, whilst the Fetchens were here, and in considerable strength.
Along the line they had picked up more men, outlaws and the like.
But what was it that Black Fetchen was really after? What lay behind their
move west? Had it been simply because of their killing of Laban Costello? And
for revenge on us? Or was there some deeper cause that began even before we
showed up? Was it something they wanted even more than Judith, more than the
horses, more than Costello's ranch, if that was what they aimed for?
The thing that stuck in my mind was that Tirey Fetchen had stirred about in
these parts before any of us came west, and with the Reynolds gang. Now, there
was something about that ... I couldn't recall what it was, but something I'd
heard about that Reynolds outfit.
They had been a gang of outlaws who passed it off that they were robbing to
get money for the Confederacy, or that was the tale I'd heard. They had been
caught up with, and some of them had been tied to a tree and shot. I had
nothing to say about that part of it to anybody, because I wanted to recall
what it was about the Reynolds gang that made me remember them ... some item
I'd forgotten.
We went into the hills, climbing high up by an old Ute trail that Sharp told
us of, and we skirted about to reach the valley where Costello's outfit lay.
No horse tracks showed on the trail we rode. No sound came from anywhere
near. There were, of course, birds talking it up in the bushes, and a slow
wind that stirred the trees as we rode along. Nothing else but once in a while
the rattle of a spur or the creak of a saddle as a horse took strain in
climbing, or a rider shifted weight in the saddle. Sunlight dappled the trail
with leaf shadows.
We did not talk. We listened as we rode, and from time to time we paused to
listen more carefully.
Cap, who was riding point, drew up suddenly, and we closed in around him.
Before us was an opening among the branches of the trees lining the trail.
Several miles away we could see a green valley, perhaps five hundred feet
lower down, and from it sunlight reflected from a window.
"That will be it," Cap commented. "The way Sharp told it, we will be ridin'
Costello range at almost any minute."
We pushed on, circling the smaller valleys that made a chain through the
hills. Now, from time to time, cattle tracks showed among those of deer and
elk.
The ranch, when we came upon it, lay cupped in the hills, a small but
comfortable house set back on a green meadow where a stream curled through.
There was slow smoke rising from the chimney, and a good lot of horses in the
corrals. Sitting on the stoop in front of the house was a man with a rifle
across his knees. We saw no other folks around.
In the meadow a dozen or so head of horses were grazing, the sun gleaming
from their smooth flanks. It made a handsome sight, but the man on the stoop
looked mighty like a guard.
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Dobre pomysły nie mają przeszłości, mają tylko przyszłość. Robert Mallet
De minimis - o najmniejszych rzeczach.
Dobroć jest ważniejsza niż mądrość, a uznanie tej prawdy to pierwszy krok do mądrości. Theodore Isaac Rubin
Dobro to tylko to, co szlachetne, zło to tylko to, co haniebne.
Dla człowieka nie tylko świat otaczający jest zagadką; jest on nią sam dla siebie. I z obu tajemnic bardziej dręczącą wydaje się ta druga. Antoni Kępiński (1918-1972)
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