Last Stand at Saber River - Leonard Elmore John (бесплатная регистрация книга TXT) 📗

So, Cable thought, the hell with it. He was too tired to argue. Tired and hungry and her mind was made up, he could see that. He moved to the door of the next room, glanced in and saw that the two single beds had not been touched, then looked at Lorraine again.

“Take your pick.”

She moved close to him in the doorway to look into the room. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Whichever one you want.” He walked away from her and for the next few minutes concentrated on shaping and straightening the stove flue. He was able to put it up again, temporarily, but his hands and face were smudged with soot when he’d finished.

Lorraine waited until he started a fire in the stove, then told him to go outside and wash; she’d fix something to eat. Cable hesitated, doubting her ability at the stove; but finally he went out-washed up at the river, scrubbing his hands with sand and scooping the cool water into his face. He felt better being alone outside and he took his time at the river, then went to the barn and looked in at the sorrel again before returning to the house.

Coffee was on the fire; Cable smelled it as he came in. For a moment he watched Lorraine making pancakes in the iron frying pan and he thought: She wants you to be surprised. But he turned away from her and busied himself sweeping up the broken china. After that he turned the slashed mattress on the bed and spread the bedcovers over it. When it was time to sit down she served him the corn meal cakes in a pie plate and poured his coffee into a tin drinking cup. Lorraine sat down with him, watching him eat, waiting for him to say something; but Cable ate in silence.

“Well, what do you think?”

“Fine.” He was finishing the last of his coffee.

“Surprised I know how to cook?”

“You’re a woman, aren’t you?” he answered, knowing she would react to it, but saying it anyway.

“Does that follow,” Lorraine said peevishly. “Just because you’re a woman all you’re to be concerned with is cooking and keeping house?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You’re probably hopeless. You deserve to live out here with a wife and three kids.”

“You make it sound like a sentence.”

“You are hopeless.”

“And tired,” Cable said. He got up from the table, walked around to Lorraine’s chair and pulled it out for her. “So are you.”

She looked up at him. “Am I?” Her tone was mild now.

“Tired out from that long ride with Vern.” He took Lorraine by the arm to the bedroom. “Have a good sleep and before you know it it’ll be time to fix breakfast.” He pushed her inside and closed the door before she could say a word.

Cable blew out the lamp, then walked to the open front door and stood looking out at the night, letting the stillness and the breeze that was coming off the meadow relax him. This was good. But it was a peace that lasted only as long as the night. Slowly Cable sat down in the doorway. Take advantage of the peace you can feel, he thought. Sleep was good, but it wasn’t something you could enjoy each minute of and know you were enjoying it.

So he sat in the doorway, feeling the silence and the darkness about him, thinking of his wife and children, picturing them in bed in the rooms above the store; then picturing them here, seeing himself sitting with the children close to him and talking to them, answering their questions, being patient and answering the questions that were unrelated or imaginary along with the reasonable ones. Clare would ask the most questions and through her eyes that were wide with concentration he could almost see her picturing his answers. It was like the times she would relate a dream she had had and he would try to imagine how she saw it with her child’s eyes and with her child’s mind. While he was talking to Clare, Davis would become restless and jump on his back, Davis with enough energy for all of them and wanting to fight or be chased or swim in the river. Sandy, lying against him, listening to them contentedly with his thumb in his mouth, would scowl and yell at Davis to stop it. Then he would quiet them and they would talk about other things until Martha called.

And after the children were in bed they would sit here on the steps, watching the willows turn to silent black shapes against the sky, hearing the night sounds in the pines and far out on the meadow. They would talk in low murmurs, feeling the familiar nearness of one another. They talked about the children and the house and about things they had done and about things they would do someday; but not talking about the future, because if they accomplished or acquired nothing more than what they had, it would be enough and they would be satisfied; perhaps as happy as anyone, any family, could expect to be.

If you can hold on to what you have, Cable thought. Right now you would settle just for that and not hope for anything more.

He was certain that the Kidstons had damaged the house, as a warning. Maybe not Vern. It seemed more like something Duane would do. But regardless of who did it, the effect was the same.

He heard the sound behind him, the bedroom door opening and closing. He turned, starting to push himself up, but Lorraine was already over him. Her hand went to his shoulder and she sank down beside him.

“I thought you were tired.”

“I’m going to bed in a minute,” Cable said. He saw that Lorraine was wearing one of Martha’s flannel nightgowns. He had felt it as she brushed against him to sit down.

“What were you thinking about?”

“A lot of things at once, I suppose.”

“Vern and Duane…the happiness boys?”

He looked at her. “I’d like to know what you’re doing here.”

“I explained all that.”

“You didn’t any more get thrown than I did.”

Lorraine smiled. “But I had to tell you something.”

“Did Vern send you?”

“Don’t be silly.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

“Keeping you company.”

“I guess you are.”

Lorraine moved, rising to her knees and turning to him. Her hands went to his shoulders, then to his face caressingly as she kissed him.

“You’re not very responsive, are you?” She pressed close to him, kissing him again. “In fact you’re rather cold. I’m surprised.”

“You’ve got the wrong one, that’s all.”

“Oh, come now-”

“Or else the wrong time and place.”

“Would you like to go somewhere else?”

Quietly, Cable said, “Lorraine, you’re probably the pleasantest temptation I’ve ever had-but I’ve got enough things living in my mind the way it is.”

Close to him her head moved slowly from side to side. “The only halfway decent looking man within fifty miles and he has to have a conscience.” She felt his hands circle her waist and when they lingered, holding her, she said, “I’ll give you one more chance.”

But now he pushed her away and rose, lifting her with him. “I don’t think this would do either of us any good.”

In the darkness her eyes remained on him, but it was some time before she said, “I suppose your wife is very fortunate. But I doubt if I’d want to be married to you. I can’t help feeling there’s such a thing as being too good.”

The next morning Cable cleaned the main room and fixed the stove flue more securely. Later on, he decided, he would ride to Denaman’s Store. He would buy plates and cups, probably tin ones if Janroe had any at all; and he would stay as long as he could with Martha and the children.

Cable was outside when the two Kidston riders came by. He saw them crossing the river, approaching cautiously, and he walked out from the ramada, the Walker on his leg. He waited then as the two riders came across the yard toward him. A vague memory of having seen them before made Cable study their faces closely. No, he was certain he didn’t know them. Still-

The two riders looked somewhat alike, yet the features of one appeared more coarse and his coloring was freckled and lighter than the other man. It was as if both of their faces-both narrow and heavy boned-had been copied from the same model, but one had been formed less skillfully than the other. Both wore full mustaches and the darker of the two men showed a trace of heavy beard, at least a week’s growth.