Louis LAmour - Son of a Wanted Man: A Novel

Contents

R EADY TO F IGHT

C ORBUS STARED AT young Mike Bastian, a cold hint of danger filtering through. Suppose I dont want to drink with no tenderfoot brat?

Corbus never saw what happened. His brain warned him as Bastians left hand moved, but he never saw the right. The left smashed his lips, and the right cracked on the angle of his jaw. He hit the floor on his shoulder blades, out cold.

Fletcher and the third tough hesitated. Corbus was on the floor and Bastian was not smiling. You boys want a drink or do we go on from here?

What if a man drawed a gun instead of usin his fists? Fletcher asked.

Id kill him, Mike replied.

TO BADIE-GUY
My Ponca Friend.

Chapter 1

T HE WINTER SNOWS were melting in the forests of the Kaibab, and the red-orange Vermilion Cliffs were streaked with melting frost. Deer were feeding in the forest glades among the stands of ponderosa and fir, and trout were leaping in the sun-sparkled streams. A shadow moved under the ponderosa, then was gone.

Five deer fed on the grass along the bank of a mountain stream back of Finger Butte, their coats mottled with the light and shadow of sunlight through the leaves.

It was very still. Water rippled around the roots of a tree where the soil had washed away, and gurgled cheerfully among the rocks. A bucks tail twitched, twitched again, and the regal head lifted, turning its nostrils to the wind, reading it cautiously, but the reading was betrayal, for the shadow under the pines was downwind of him.

A faint breeze sifted through the grass and stirred the leaves, and with the breeze the shadow moved into the sunlight and became a man, standing motionless not twenty feet from the nearest deer.

Straight and tall he stood in gray buckskins. He wore no hat, and his hair long. Lean and brown, his black hair loose, he waited until the bucks head lifted again, looking right at him.

A startled snort and the buck sprang away. The others followed. Mike Bastian stood with his hands on his hips, watching them go.

Another man came through the trees behind him, a lean, wiry old man with a gray mustache and blue eyes alive with humor.

What do you think of that, Roundy? Bastian asked. Could your Apache beat that? Another step and I could have touched him.

Roundy spat into the grass. No Apache I ever knowed could do better, son. An I never seen the day I could do as well. Youre good, Mike, really good. I am surely glad youre not huntin my hair! He drew his pipe from his pocket and began stoking it. Were headin back for Toadstool Canyon, Mike. Your pa sent for us.

No trouble, is there?

None I know of, although things dont look good. They dont look good at all. No, I think your pa figures its time you rode out with the bunch.

Mike Bastian squatted on his heels, glancing around the glade. This was what he liked, and he did not want to leave. Nor did he like what he was going back to face. I believe youre right, Roundy. Pa said I was to ride out in the spring when the boys went, and it is about time.

He tugged a blade of grass and chewed on it. I wonder where they will go this time?

Whatever it is, and wherever it is, it will be well planned. Your pa would have made a fine general, boy. Hes got the head for it. He never forgets a thing.

Youve been with him a long time, havent you?

Mighty long. I was with him before he found you. I met him in Mexico during the War, longer ago than I care to remember. I was just a youngster then, myself.

From the grass he took up a fallen pine cone. Son! Look! He tossed the pine cone into the air.

Mike Bastian palmed his gun and it belched flame, then again. The second shot spattered the pine cone into flying brown chips.

Not bad, Roundy said, but you shot too quick. Youve got to get over that, Mike. Most times one shot is all youll get.

Side by side they started back through the woods. The earth was spongy with a thick bed of pine needles. An occasional break in the trees offered a glimpse of the far-off San Francisco peaks, with clouds shrouding their summits. Roundy was not as tall as the younger man, but he walked with the long, easy stride of the woodsman. Coming to a break in the forest that permitted them a long view of the wild, broken canyon country to the east, Roundy spoke. Your pa picked mighty well. Nobody in Gods world could find him in all that.

Theres Indians, Bastian reminded, and some of the Mormons know that country.

He doesnt bother them and they dont bother him, Roundy said. Thats why his outfit needs a tight rein.

They walked on, in silence. Several times Bastian paused to study the ground, reading the tracks to see who or what had passed since they had passed. This here is somethin you better not do again, Roundy suggested, comin back the way we went out. Somebody could be layin for us.

Who?

Ah, now. Thats the question. Nobody is supposed to know your pas plans for you, but theres always the chance somebody might. Believe me, son, nothin is a secret for long, an you can just bet some of the boys have been doin some thinkin about you.

They paused again, studying the country around, and Roundy put the question that had been bothering him for months. Mike? If Bens ready for you to go out, what will you do?

Go, I guess. What choice do I have?

Youre sure? Youre sure you want to be an outlaw?

Wasnt that why he raised me? To take over from him? There was an edge of bitterness in Mikes tone. Wasnt I to take over when Ben Curry stepped aside?

Thats what you were raised for, all right. Roundy poked at the pine needles with his toe. But its your life you have to live. Ben Curry cant live it for you, and you cant live his life for him, no matter how much he wants it.

The thing to remember, Mike, is that things have changed since Ben an me rode into this country together. Its no longer wild and free like it was. Folks are movin in, settlin the country, buildin homes.

Getaways wont be so easy no more, and the kind of men you ride with will change. Fact is, they have already changed.

When Ben an me rode into this country it was wide open. Most banks had been mighty hard on a poor man, ready to foreclose at the slightest chance, and the railroads gave all the breaks to the big cattle shippers, so nobody cared too much if a train was robbed or a bank. If you killed somebody, especially a man with a wife and kidswell, that was something else. If you just robbed a bank or train the posses would chase you more for fun than actually to catch you. It was a break in the work they were doin. Theyd get out, run an outlaw for a while but not too serious about it.

Kill a man? That was different. Theyd chase you for keeps then, and theyd catch you. Thats why Ben Curry wouldnt stand for killin, an hes been known to personally kill a man who disobeyed that order.

He actually did?

Seen it myself. It was Dan Peeples, and Dan was a high hand with a gun. Theyd robbed a bank in Wyoming an as they were ridin out of town this young feller came out of an alley, blundered right in the way, and Dan Peeples shot him.