Resolution - Паркер Роберт Б. (библиотека книг бесплатно без регистрации txt) 📗

43.

We rode out the next morning, past Redmond’s ranch, farther out along the creek, with the warm morning sun on our backs. Wolfson was with us, and his chief clerk, Hensdale. Hensdale didn’t seem too happy being out where Wolfson actually did a lot of his business.

“There’s any trouble, Hen,” Wolfson said to him, “these boys will take care of it.”

“So why do I even have to come along?” Hensdale said.

“Because I fucking want you along,” Wolfson said. “You understand that?”

“Yes, sir,” Hensdale said.

“Good,” Wolfson said. “What’s this fella’s name again?”

“Ward,” Hensdale said. “Stanton Ward.”

The creek curved a little west and straightened out again, flowing south, and in the bend was the Ward ranch. It wasn’t much, less than Redmond’s. But the land was good, right by the creek. In front of the house there were twelve farmers, many of them with Winchesters or shotguns.

“Jesus,” Hensdale murmured.

We rode in and stopped in front of the farmers. One of them was Redmond. He had his Winchester.

“Don’t shoot Redmond,” Virgil said.

Cato and Rose both nodded. I nodded.

Wolfson said, “What the hell?”

Virgil paid him no mind. Cato and Rose fanned out to the right.

“There’s any shooting,” I said to Hensdale, “lie flat over your horse’s neck and get the hell out of here.”

Hensdale nodded. Virgil and I fanned left. We left Wolfson in the center, in front of Redmond, with Hensdale unhappily beside him. I could see Virgil studying the ranchers on our side of the action, deciding who to shoot first. On the other side of Wolfson, I could see Cato Tillson doing the same thing.

“Fella with the straw hat first,” Virgil said. “Then the one with the blue striped shirt.”

I nodded. I didn’t know how Virgil decided these things, but he had a way, and I trusted it. I rested the eight-gauge across my saddle.

“Ward?” Wolfson said.

A short, round man with a sandy beard was standing beside Redmond.

“I’m Ward,” he said.

“You owe me money,” Wolfson said.

Ward didn’t answer.

“How much?” Wolfson said to Hensdale.

Hensdale gave the figure in a soft voice, meant to suggest that it wasn’t his fault, he was only the bean counter.

“You got it?” Wolfson said.

“How’s he gonna have it,” Redmond said.

He was talking to Wolfson, but I knew he was aware of Virgil.

“Not my problem, you owe me, you can’t pay. I collect my collateral.”

“For God’s sake, Wolfson,” Redmond said. “Man’s got four children.”

“Didn’t come here to argue,” Wolfson said. “If I had, I wouldn’ta brought my friends.”

He nodded in a way to include the four of us.

“We ain’t gonna let you take his house,” Redmond said.

“That the way you see it, Ward?” Wolfson said.

Ward’s eyes shifted from Virgil to Cato Tillson to Rose and to me. Then he looked back at Wolfson.

“I… I can’t pay you,” he said. “Maybe if you gimme time.”

Wolfson shook his head.

“Time’s up,” he said. “We’ll wait here while you pack up the family and go.”

“He ain’t going,” Redmond said.

Virgil nudged his horse forward at a slow pace and rode him gently between Redmond and Ward. Then he moved the horse sidestep and eased Redmond slowly away from Ward. On the other side of Ward, Cato did the same thing to the farmer on that side. Rose and I followed and eased the next couple of clodhoppers away from Ward, and from each other.

“Don’t let them move us,” Redmond shouted, and tried to step around Virgil. Virgil herded him with his horse, like he was cutting out a steer.

“Hold it,” Redmond shouted. “Hold it or we’ll start shooting.”

“No,” Ward screamed. “No. I don’t want the fucking property.”

Virgil stopped his horse and sat still. The rest of us did the same.

“I can’t live like this,” Ward said. “I can’t live here waiting for the next shootout. I’m a rancher. I don’t want this.”

No one moved.

Then Redmond said, “Stan, if we don’t stop him here, where will we stop him?”

“Don’t care,” Ward said. “Stop him without me. Ranch is yours, Wolfson. I’ll take the horses, the wagon, and whatever we can load on it. Rest is yours.”

“Wise choice,” Wolfson said. “We’ll wait.”

Slowly, watching Redmond as he did, Virgil backed his horse up. The rest of us did the same. Redmond half-raised his Winchester. Virgil had no reaction. The hammer was down on the Winchester. Meant that Redmond would either have to work the lever or cock it, and that, for Virgil, was an ocean of time.

“Disagreement’s been revolved,” Virgil said. “Time to go home.”

The man in the straw hat said to Ward, “Need a hand with the wagon?”

Ward nodded.

“’Preciate it, Saul,” he said.

They turned and went toward the house. Some of the others went with them; the rest began to drift toward their horses.

“It’ll happen to one of us next, and then another one,” Redmond said in a high voice, “and another one, until he’s got it all.”

The rancher in the blue striped shirt paused near his horse. He was carrying his Winchester with the barrel pointing toward the ground.

He said to Redmond, “We ain’t gunmen, Bob.”

Then he swung up into the saddle and rode away.

44.

Virgil and I were leaning on the bar, watching the smoke swirl and the whiskey pour and the cards slap down on tabletops.

“Spent a lot of my life in saloons like this,” Virgil said.

“I know,” I said.

“Funny thing is, neither one of us drinks much.”

“Probably a good thing,” I said.

“Probably,” Virgil said.

He looked comfortably around, appearing to pay no attention, in fact seeing everything.

“I been reading a book by this guy Russo,” Virgil said.

“Who?”

“French guy, Russo. Wrote something called The Social Contract, lot of stuff about nature.”

“Rousseau,” I said.

“Yeah, him,” Virgil said.

Virgil never admitted to a mistake. But if he was corrected, he never made it again.

“He says that men are good, and what makes them bad is government and law and stuff.”

“Don’t know much about Rousseau,” I said.

“Didn’t teach you ’bout him?” Virgil said. “At the Point?”

“Nope. Spent a lot of time on Roman cavalry tactics,” I said. “Not so much on French philosophers.”

“That what he was?” Virgil said. “A philosopher?”

“I think so,” I said.

“Well, he says if people was just left to grow up natural, they’d be good,” Virgil said. “You think that’s so?”

“Don’t know,” I said. “And I ain’t so sure it matters.”

Virgil nodded.

“’Cause nobody ever grew up that way,” he said.

I nodded.

“And probably ain’t going to,” Virgil said.

I nodded again.

“So what difference does it make?” I said.

“I dunno,” Virgil said. “I like reading about it. I like to learn stuff.”

“Sure,” I said.

“And if this Rousseau is right, then the law ain’t a good thing, that protects people; it’s a bad thing that, like, makes them bad.”

“Ain’t much law here,” I said.

“’Cept us,” Virgil said.

I laughed.

“’Cept us,” I said.

Virgil grinned.

“And Cato and Rose,” he said.

We both laughed.

“There’s some law for you,” I said.

“And it don’t much come from no government,” Virgil said, “or any, you know, contract or nothing.”

“Nope,” I said.

“Comes ’cause we can shoot better than other people.”

“And ain’t afraid to,” I said.

Wolfson came across the room and stopped in front of us.

“Virgil,” he said. “I got something to say.”

Virgil nodded.

“I mean alone,” Wolfson said.

“Go ahead and talk in front of Everett,” Virgil said. “Save me the trouble of telling him what you said.”

Wolfson didn’t like it, but Virgil showed no sign that he cared.