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I took the hat in my hands. "Looks like a small caliber. Could have been a round ball."
Noah was of the same opinion. "More than likely. You had a close call, boy."
"Not as close as you'd think," said Adam. "I was swatting flies in Buzzard Notch. There must be something dead in there because the flies are really thick. Anyway, I rested my hat on the brake handle for a second and Blam, there's a hole through the top."
"Warning shot, I'll bet. Why warn him, Snake? Why didn't he just knock him off?" Noah was obviously relieved that the shooter hadn't. He was just perplexed about the reason why.
"Darned if I know. If it is the old man, he may be deranged. Sometimes those fire and brimstone guys do go off the deep end. Who can say what runs through a mind like that?"
I hung around the town and the Cross house for the next two days and nothing happened. In the evenings I would make the rounds down Kirbyville's main street, sometimes by myself and sometimes with Noah. One evening when I was by myself I found out what Noah had been talking about.
The sun was getting low in the sky and the shadows growing long when I had a feeling of somebody staring at my back. Trying to be nonchalant, I slowly turned and scanned the street but saw not a soul. Be that as it might, the feeling persisted. "Maybe just because my gut's empty" I told myself, and I entered the café of the Bouchards.
A gushing lady came forward to greet me.
"Hello, young man, I've been hearing stories about you. My, my, an Arizona Ranger, now isn't that quite something. Well, you certainly helped us out here. Now, unless I miss my guess you want a nice sweet dessert, isn't that right? Try a piece of this gingerbread with whipped cream."
"Oh, that sounds good." Before I could say anything else she was cranking a beater, making the best whipped cream I had ever tasted. I soon finished the first piece and she insisted on seconds to use up the cream. In no time my stomach was filled to bursting.
Mrs. Bouchard brought a refill of coffee and sat down at the table. In a low voice she said, "A man just peeked in the window. I think he was looking at you."
I caught myself before turning around in my chair. A lot of gunmen always sat with their backs to the wall so as to avoid surprises. I had held back from this practice so as not to seem melodramatic. This was going to change as of right now.
Trying not to sound anxious I said, "Oh, really. Did you happen to see what he looked like?"
"I think he was an old man. He had long white hair and a beard, and he reminded me of one of those characters out of the Bible. He must be up to no good, or while should he be going around spying in windows?"
"Have you ever seen him before?"
"Maybe. A couple of times recently I thought I saw someone along the street, but when I looked again he was gone. I thought I was seeing things."
Telling her there was nothing wrong with her vision I went back out onto the street and walked to the general store. Knox had expanded with everything there could possibly be a market for.
"Do the people have the money for all this stuff?" I asked upon entering.
"No, but about everyone has something to trade. The merchants of this town have a pretty good arrangement. If I take in eggs that I don't need I trade them with the Bouchards. If Jim at the livery trades a horse for a rifle that he doesn't need he'll bring the rifle over to trade, or he'll leave it here on consignment. Either way, we keep things moving and everyone is happy."
"That's great. Hey, have you had a business from a family called the Nasons? I heard they were living around here in the mountains."
"Not very often, but when they do show up they have prime hides to trade for powder and lead. They don't trap, either. All the pelts have a single hole through the head. Mostly they bring in bobcat and gray fox. Sometimes coyote, but they're not worth much right now. I've heard the Indians have ways of calling these critters in. I wouldn't be surprised if the Nasons know how.
"Sam Nason is the one exception. He looks stupid, but he consistently brings in wild honey. He seems to have a gift for finding wild bees. He goes off by himself for days, and when he returns he always has honey."
"And does he trade just for powder and lead?"
"Nope, he's a totally different case. He likes fancy little modern guns. Last week he bought a silver plated Florbert pistol. It's a target pistol meant for shooting in the parlor. He didn't care what it was for. It was pretty and he wanted it. He's got others in the same category. A Reid's Knuckleduster and a Moore's Derringer are two that I sold him.
"And get this - there's one other item he likes: books. Where he ever learned to read I couldn't say. But he must know how, for he gets a new book almost every time he comes in. He's not fussy. He might get a classic this time and a penny dreadful the next. I'll bet he's the only one of the Nason clan who's even been near a school."
"Very odd. Thanks."
The feeling of being watched was still with me. There was only one good place for a watcher that I could see, and this was an alley between two buildings. I sauntered along until I was directly across the street from it, then quickly strode over to look into it. There was nobody to be seen, but a plank leaning on a wall drew my attention. On it were written the words, "Come to the mountain."
The words were scratched into the wood with the point of a knife and looked fresh. Old man Nason lived on a mountain. Was this message a directive from him? It was the only answer I could think of.
On the chance he could shed more light on the Nasons I went over to meet the owner of the livery stable. Turned out his name was Frank Chambers, but everyone called him Red because of his fiery hair.
"Nope," he responded when asked about the mountaineer family, "I've seen 'em around occasionally, but never had any business with them. The old man must have a horse somewhere but I've never seen him ride. He seems to be always on foot."
"Have you ever seen him sneaking around the back of the town; maybe in the alley?"
"Yes, I have. Business is slow so far, and I've got a room upstairs where I spend a lot of time reading or just looking around. More than once I've seen him skulking around looking for who knows what. He always has that long rifle glued to him but I haven't heard of him shooting anybody. It takes all kinds, but I wonder what some of these people are thinking of."
"You and me both. We think the old timer is a threat to Adam Cross and his wife, but if nothing has happened yet maybe it never will. That would be contrary to previous experiences I've had, though."
Later that night I made plans with Noah.
"There hasn't been any crime, and yet we both know something is going to happen. I think I'd better take him up on his offer and go to the mountain."
"I'll go with you."
"No, I'd better go by myself. I think he wants to parlay. I'll be okay."
Now as I slowly made my way up the slope I wondered at the wisdom of my words. I felt mighty exposed but there was nothing I could do about it now. As the elevation increased so did the vegetation and there was plenty of cover a sniper could use if he so desired.
Noah had received directions from the hunter that had been threatened. I was beginning to wonder about their second hand accuracy when I climbed over the edge of a shoulder and saw a crude cabin ahead. There was no sign of habitation but this just made me more edgy.
A voice from beside a tree jolted me.
"I figured you might not dare to come," said Moses Nason. He was standing next to a tree and if he hadn't spoken I never would have seen him.
"Sure, why not? I just wasn't sure if the message was meant for me."
"It was. I'll not be talking to that supporter of the devil Noah Cross."
"What are you talking about? I've known Noah Cross since the town started. A finer man can not be found."
"Oh, then why did he support his son when he stole my grandson's betrothed?"
"The boy didn't steal her. They decided to get married because they're in love. When Laura spoke to Sammy they were both play-acting. They were too young to made any decisions."
"Too young? I married my first wife when she was twelve. Age has nothing to do with it. I want you to break up the marriage and bring the girl up here."
"You must be insane. They are legally married and will stay that way. You just leave them alone."
I had said the wrong thing. The old man's hair and beard seemed to bristle out as he screamed, "Get off my mountain! I thought you might be sensible but I see you're a fool. Well, then beware, for I will strike, and strike hard. You had best better leave or you'll be buried along with that Cross boy. NOW
GIT!
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