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

Cable followed the crest of the hill for almost a mile before he found a trail that descended the east slope. He moved along the narrowness of it, feeling the gradual slant beneath the sorrel, and seeing the valley again, down through open swatches in the trees. Soon he would be almost above the house. A few yards farther on he stopped.

Ahead of him, a young woman stood at the edge of the path looking down through the trees. Luz Acaso, Cable thought. No.

Luz came to his mind with the first glimpse of this girl in white. But Luz vanished as he saw blond hair-hair that was tied back with a ribbon and swirled suddenly over her shoulder as she turned and saw him.

This movement was abrupt, but now she stood watching him calmly. Her hand closed around the riding quirt suspended from her wrist and she raised it to hold it in front of her with both hands, not defensively, but as if striking a pose.

“I expected you to be older,” the girl said. She studied him calmly, as if trying to guess his age or what he was thinking or what had brought him to this ridge.

Cable swung down from the saddle, his eyes on the girl. She was at ease-he could see that-and was still watching him attentively: a strikingly handsome girl, tall, though not as tall as Martha, and younger by at least six years, Cable judged.

He said, “You know who I am?”

“Bill Dancey told us about you.” She smiled then. “With help from Royce and Joe Bob.”

“Then you’re a Kidston,” Cable said.

“You’ll go far,” the girl said easily.

Cable frowned. “You’re Vern’s-daughter?”

“Duane’s. I’m Lorraine, if that means anything to you.”

“I don’t know why,” Cable said, “but I didn’t picture your dad married.”

Her eyebrows rose with sudden interest. “How did you picture him?”

“I don’t know. Just average appearing.”

Lorraine smiled. “You’ll find him average, all right.”

Cable stared at her. “You don’t seem to hold much respect for him.”

“I have no reason to.”

“Isn’t just because he’s your father reason enough?”

Lorraine’s all-knowing smile returned. “I knew you were going to say that.”

“You did, huh?…How old are you?”

“Almost nineteen.”

Cable nodded. That would explain some of it. “And you’ve been to school. You’re above average pretty, which you’ll probably swear to. And you’ve probably had your own way as long as you can remember.”

“And if all that’s true,” Lorraine said. “Then what?”

Cable shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“What point are you trying to make?”

Cable smiled now. “You didn’t react the way I thought you would.”

“At least you’re honest about it,” Lorraine said. “Most men would have tried to bluster their way out. Usually they say, ‘Well’-with what passes for a wise chuckle-‘you’ll see things differently when you’re a bit older.’ ” Lorraine’s eyebrows rose. “Unfortunately, there isn’t the least shred of evidence that wisdom necessarily comes with age.”

“Uh-huh,” Cable nodded. This girl could probably talk circles around him if he let her. But if she pulled that on Martha-

Cable smiled. “Why don’t you come down and meet my wife?”

Lorraine hesitated. “I don’t think I should put myself in the way.”

“You wouldn’t be in Martha’s way. She’d be glad of the chance to sit down and talk.”

“I wasn’t referring to your wife. I meant my father. He’s coming, you know.” She saw Cable’s expression change. “Didn’t you think he would?”

“Coming now?”

“As soon as he gathers his company,” Lorraine answered. “Not Vern. Vern went up to Fort Buchanan yesterday on horse business.” She looked away from Cable. “You know you can see your house right down there through the trees. I came here to watch.”

She stepped back quickly as Cable moved past her, already urging his sorrel down the path as he mounted. She called out to him to wait, but he kept going and did not look back. Soon he was out of sight, following the long, gradual switch-backs that descended through the pines.

Martha had cleaned the stove for the second time. She came out of the house carrying a pail and at the end of the ramada she lifted it and threw the dirty water out into the sunlight. She watched it flatten and hang glistening gray before splattering against the hard-packed ground. She turned back to the house, hearing the sound of the horse then.

“Clare!” Her gaze flashed to the children playing in the aspen shade. They looked up and she called, not as loud, “Clare, bring the boys in for a while.”

“Why do we have to-” Davis’s voice trailed off. He made no move to rise from his hands and knees.

Martha looked back at the stable shed, then to the children. “Dave, I’m not going to call again.” The children rose and came out of the trees.

She heard the horse again and with it a rustling, twig-snapping sound. She waved the children toward the house; but Clare hesitated, looking up toward the pines. “What’s that noise?”

“Probably not anything,” Martha said. “Inside now.”

As they filed in, Cable turned the corner of the house. Martha let her breath out slowly and stood watching him as he dismounted and came toward her.

She wanted to say: Cabe, it’s not worth it. One alarm after another, running the children inside every time there’s a sound! But she looked at Cable’s face and the words vanished.

“What is it?”

“They’re on the way.”

Martha glanced at the house, at the three children standing in the ramada shade watching them. “Clare, fix the boys a biscuit and jelly.”

As she turned back, she again heard the rustling, muffled horse sound. She saw her husband’s hand go to the Walker Colt a moment before Lorraine Kidston rounded the adobe.

“I decided,” Lorraine said as she approached, “it would be more fun to watch from right here.” She dropped her reins then, extending her arms to Cable. When he hesitated, she said, “Aren’t you going to help me?”

Cable lifted her down from the side saddle, feeling her press against him, and he stepped back the moment her feet touched the ground. “Martha, this is Lorraine Kidston. Duane’s girl.”

Martha recognized his uneasiness. He wanted to appear calm, she knew, but he was thinking of other things. And she was aware of Lorraine’s confidence. Lorraine was enjoying this, whatever it was, and for some reason she had Cable at a disadvantage. Martha nodded to Lorraine, listened as Cable explained their meeting on the ridge, and she couldn’t help thinking: Soon we could be thrown to the lions and Lorraine has dressed in clean white linen to come watch.

“Come inside,” Martha said pleasantly. “We can give you a chair at the window if you’d like.”

Lorraine hesitated, but only for a moment. She nodded to Martha and said easily, “You’re very kind.”

At the door, the children stood staring at Lorraine. Martha named them as they entered the ramada shade, and reaching them, brushed Sandy’s hair from his forehead. “The little Cables are about to have biscuits and jelly. Will you join them?”

“No, thank you,” Lorraine said. She nodded politely to the children, but showed no interest in them, edging through the doorway now as if not wanting to touch them. Martha followed, moving the children to the table and sitting them down. Cable came in a moment later carrying the Spencer.

As he propped it against the wall between the two front windows, Lorraine said pleasantly, “I hope you’re not going to shoot my father.”

Cable closed both shutters of the right window, but only one shutter of the window nearer to the door. He turned then. “I hope not either.”

“Oh, don’t be so solemn,” Lorraine said lightly. “If Duane does the talking you can be pretty sure he’ll mess it up.”

Cable saw Martha’s momentary look of surprise. She placed a pan of biscuits on the table, watching Lorraine. “Miss Kidston,” Cable said mildly, “doesn’t have a very high regard for her father.”