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The reception I received at Kirbyville wasn't as
extravagant as the one I got before, but it was warm nevertheless. I was
surprised at the changes that had occurred in the short time I had been gone.
Neatly spaced soddies had been erected, and fields had been laid out and plowed.
There was a main street staked out for the town, and already three buildings
were up. One was a livery, and its owner said he would rather shoe horses than
plant seeds any day. Even if the horses kicked.
The second was a café put up by a middle-aged couple
named Bouchard. They had always wanted to do this, and there was no better time
than the present. She turned out to be the cook with the best mock apple pies at
the party they had thrown for me. When it turned out that she also made donuts,
the future of the little restaurant was assured. Most cowboys would ride a long
ways if they heard there were donuts available. Sweet treats were hard to come
by.
The last place was an honest-to-goodness general
store. It was very small, but it did seem to have a little bit of everything.
The proprietor had been on his way further west, but when he saw Kirbyville, he
saw a need, which he hoped would result in a profit. In his hurry to get
started, one half of the store was a tent, and the other was made from the wood
that had been the body of his wagon. He was an open and friendly man named Knox,
and everyone seemed to take to him. He would make out just fine.
I was glad to see that Noah Cross was acting as the
unofficial leader of the town. He was the logical man to come to in emergency,
for he was always calm and steady and not afraid to learn new things. He caught
my eye while I was conversing with the others and motioned that he'd like to
talk to me in private.
It was obvious what he wanted to know. "Did you
find out anything? We've been warning people coming from the east, but lately I
had the feeling that we were being watched. Maybe Drisco's gunmen are getting
curious."
"You know, they might be getting itchy, at
that." I told him about the oil I had found. He had never heard of it, and
I had to explain how it took the place of whale oil and how much it had sold for
in the cities. I also told him that it looked like the reason the settlers had
been sent was to drive a wedge between Drisco and the reservation and start
another Indian war.
"Hazeline must have a partner in this, I would
think. It's an awfully big undertaking for one man." I didn't mention my
recent suspicions. I wanted to see if Noah came up with the same idea.
"Snake, I remember what you told me about Ben
Drisco. Could you have been wrong? It sounds to me like it would be to his
advantage as well if the border went into dispute. But in that case why should
he have put guards on the road to turn back settlers?"
"I think I know. The instructions were actually
to shoot, not turn people back. Most of those guys would shoot from ambush and
not be seen. In the meantime Hazeltine's man with the 32-20 is sniping Indians.
If each of those sides got blaming the other, Drisco might be left sitting back
looking pretty."
"How can we put a stop to them?" That was
the thing about Noah Cross. He was always ready to jump in to help without being
asked.
"In this case, Noah, I think you are better off
guarding the people here. You said you were being watched. If there should be an
attack, you'll be needed to fight right here."
I had ridden as far as Winslow to see where Hazeltine
went. People I talked to there said he hadn't even stopped, just kept on going
eastward. He'd be back, I was sure, so I had come down to Kirbyville to wait. In
just a short amount of time, these folks had made me feel like I was part of
their community.
Cross and I set up a system of guards to watch against
unfriendly intruders. I took my turn along with the rest, and happily there was
nothing to be seen for the next few days. I usually did a night shift of watch
and took a ride out from the town in the days to look for any new sign. Men from
the Drisco ranch had been watching from a distance. More alarming was the set of
tracks I found coming from the north. It looked like the 32-20 shooter was still
in the neighborhood. I didn't know what he was looking for, but I was sure it
wasn't good.
I had forgotten the danger to be found in this little
town. I was just sitting down to eat my supper when a voice at my elbow startled
me.
"I was wondering if you would come back." It
was Laura Smith, and as usual she had primped herself up before approaching.
"I've been lonely here."
"Lonely? Just you and a camp full of men?"
"All the good ones are married."
"Noah Cross isn't. Nor is his son Adam."
"Adam is too young, and..."
"He's only a couple of years younger than you
are. There's not much difference."
She carried on like I had not interrupted her.
"And his father, I don't know, he just doesn't seem to be interested."
"I think Noah is most interested in Adam right
now. He would like to see the two of you get together."
"He'd have to wait a long time. Adam is still a
boy. I'm grown up."
"Says you. You're working on it, but you're a
long ways from grown up."
"Snake you're only a few years older than I am.
You act like somebody's father. I'll bet you are scared of me." I was, but
I wasn't going to let her know it.
"I am not. I'm just footloose, is all. It
wouldn't be fair for me to carry on with you and then ride off to who knows
where."
"Maybe I could change your mind about riding
off." That was what I was afraid of.
"Maybe, but I doubt it. The West is a big place,
and I've only seen part of it. I want to go to all the far corners, sample all
the tastes it has to offer. I want to go to the highest points in the Rockies,
and I want to see what the warm winters of the Oregon coast are like. They say
there are fish called salmon up there that push each other right out of the
water.
"There are wild mountain goats that cling to the
rocks like birds, and big herds of elk that come to a shrill elk whistle. They
say the grizzlies up north are bigger than the ones we see here. There's a lot
of gold left in the streams, too. I think I would like to take one summer and
just pan gold. Not to get rich but to have the experience.
"There are a lot of places I have yet to
go," I repeated.
"You will," Laura whispered, and she laid
her hand on my arm. "I love to hear you talk about those places. I love to
hear you talk about anything."
Just then the voice of Noah Cross came from the
direction of his camp. "Hey Snake, are you out here?" He came into
view then and flashed a halfway grin like he was sharing a joke with me. I guess
he was, at that. "Oh, I didn't mean to bother you two. I can come back
later."
"No, that's okay," I quickly told him. There
was something about being alone with Laura that made me nervous. "What can
I do for you?"
"It's my old Army Colt. The trigger doesn't seem
to snap back. I have to push it forward with my finger."
I took the proffered revolver and found his
description to be accurate.
"It feels like it has a broken trigger return
spring," I told him. "With any luck the new general store will have
one. Do you clean this gun every time you shoot it?"
"Almost every time. You know how it is. You get
busy and forget."
"No, I don't. You do. These cap and ball
revolvers have to be stripped right down and scrubbed out good. Do you do
that?"
"No," he said sheepishly. "I just clean
the barrel and cylinder."
"Well, there's the problem. A cartridge revolver
isn't as bad, for the case of the cartridge acts to hold back some of the
residue. But a cap and balls gets the black powder gunk into every nook and
cranny of the action. It has to stripped completely and washed out thoroughly.
Let's go see if we can find another spring."
True to what Mr. Knox had claimed, his store did have
a little bit of everything. He had the few parts for the Colt revolver that
tended to wear out and amongst them was the spring we needed. I stripped the
pistol and showed Noah the proper way to clean it. He was amazed at the amount
of rust that showed on the interior surfaces. The rust build up was what had
caused the spring to fail. Once the gun was clean, I did a little file work to
fit the new spring and reassembled the old Army model. A lot of men hung onto
the old model long after new types were available. There was a slight difference
in the grip shape that some shooters liked. Oh course, a lot of them couldn't
afford anything else. Like Noah, they used whatever was available.
"There, that feels better," he said when I
handed the Colt back. "Maybe one of these day's I'll be able to buy a newer
one."
When it got dark I took first watch, and after a half
an hour of solitude something stirred at the edge of the brush. I was instantly
alert and stayed plumb still in the shadow of a rock. Whoever it was moved
fairly quietly but tended to drag his feet as if he was looking back.
I could see that this shadowy form was going to pass
right in front of me, so I waited. When it was within three feet I quickly
stepped in back of it and threw my left arm around the intruder while my right
brought my pistol to bear. I quickly realized what I had done. This culprit was
soft under my arm and smelled of a faint perfume. Laura!
"What are you doing out here?" I whispered.
"You might have been hurt."
:"It's okay, I trust you."
"That's not what I mean. If I had an itchy
trigger finger I might have shot you. We've got to get you back home."
Again I had made her mad. I offered to walk her back
in.
"No, I got out here by myself, and I can get back
the same way." She stomped off and I looked after her, wondering at the
secret to dealing with such a woman was. Woman? No, surely I meant girl.
And then I was running after her, for from the
gunshots and whooping I knew the little settlement was under attack.
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