Louis LAmour - The Outlaws of Mesquite

Contents

AUTHORS NOTE

The Mesquite I wrote about in this story is a rustler town, a holdup mans town, and its quite unlike most towns in the West.

In more traditional towns, there were generally two sections. There was the part where the saloons and the red-light district were, what we still refer to today as the wrong side of the tracks, where most of the rough stuff like gunfights went on. On the other side there were churches and schools and citizens carrying on their lives the way normal people would.

Sometimes all the law-abiding people knew about the gunfights across the way was the sound of gunfire. They didnt know who was shooting whom until they heard about it later.

THE OUTLAWS OF MESQUITE

M ILT COGAR WAS at the corral catching the paint when Thacker walked down from the store. Youd better get out of this town, boy. They are fixin to make trouble for you.

Milt turned around and looked at the big, clumsy man, his shirt stuffed into his trousers and held there by a rope belt. Thacker never seemed to have a full beard and always seemed to need a shave. His watery blue eyes looked vague. He rolled his quid in his jaws and spat.

Its what Im tellin you, son. You done me a favor or two.

Why should they be after me? Cogar demanded. He was a lean young man with a dark, leatherlike face. His eyes were almost black, and keen.

Spencer wants your horses. You know that. He sets a sight of store by good horseflesh, and hes had a thorn in his side ever since you rode into the valley. Anyway, youre a stranger, and this country dont cotton to strangers.

Milt Cogar hitched his gun belts and stared at Thacker. Thanks. Ill not forget it. But betwixt the two of us, this country has reason to be afraid of strangers.

Thackers eyes shifted uneasily. Dont you be sayin that aloud. Not around here. And dont you tell nobody what I said.

Thacker drifted off down toward his shack, and Milt Cogar stood there, uncertainly. He was not ready to drift, nor did he like being pushed, but he had sensed the undercurrent of feeling against him.

Mesquite was a rustler town. It was a holdup mans town, and he was a wild horse wrangler and a drifter. He threw the saddle on the paint and cinched it down. All the while he was thinking of Jennie Lewis, for she was the reason he had stayed on at Mesquite.

Milt Cogar was no trouble-hunting man. He knew that of himself and he told that to himself once more. In nearly thirty years of drifting, he had kept clear of most of the trouble that came his way. Not that he hadnt had his share, for times came when a man couldnt dodge fights. This could be that kind of time.

Dan Spencer was ramrodding the town. He was the big wheel. Milt had seen the big mans eyes trailing him down the dusty corner of road that did duty as Mesquites main street. There were only four buildings on that street, and a dozen houses. Jennie lived in the house back under the cottonwoods with Joe and Mom Peters.

Spencer wasnt only big and rough. He was slick. He was slicker than blue mud on a side hill, only he didnt look it. Milt was a top hand at reading sign, and he could read the tracks years left across a mans face. He knew what manner of a man Dan Spencer was, and what to expect from the others, from Record and Martinez.

It was a mean little place, this valley. The scattering of ugly, unpainted frame buildings, the hillsides covered with scrub pine and juniper, the trail a dusty pathway through the pine and huge, flat-faced boulders. There was a waterhole, and it was that which had started the town. And somewhere back in the cliff and brush country there was a canyon where Spencer and his boys backed up their stolen cattle.

Thacker was right. He should throw a leg over his horse right now and light a shuck out of here. If he stayed, there would be trouble, and he was no gunfighter like Spencer or Record, nor a knife-in-the-belly killer like Martinez. He should light out of here right now, but there was Jennie Lewis.

Jennie was eighteen now, a slim, lovely girl with soft gray eyes and ash-blond hair. She looked like the wind could blow her away but there was quick, bubbling laughter in her, and sometimes a look in her eyes that touched something away down inside of a man.

She was a casualty of the trail. Cholera had wiped out her family, and Joe Peters had found her, ten years old and frightened, and carried her home. Only now she was big enough and old enough for Spencer to see, and what Dan Spencer wanted, he took.

Nobody in town would stop Spencer. There were twenty-seven people in Mesquite, but those who werent outlaws were shy, frightened people who made themselves obscure and came and went as silently as possible, fearful of speaking lest Dan Spencer lay eyes upon them.

T HAT WAS HOW it had been until Milt Cogar rode into town with his catch of wild horses, sixteen head of them, and all fine stock, and most of them broke to ride. Milt was going on through, but he stopped by the waterhole with his horses, and while they drank he talked with Jennie.

Youve beautiful horses, she said wistfully. I never saw anything so beautiful, not even the horses that Spencer has.

They are nice. Cogar was a man unused to the sound of his voice, for he lived much alone. Thats one of the reasons why I catch them. I like working with horses.

She was standing near one of them, and the black put out a friendly nose, and she touched it. The horse did not shy.

You would never guess they had ever been wild, she said wonderingly. They are so gentle.

Most horses are nice folks, maam, he said. They like people. You teach one he doesnt have to be afraid, and right away he gets mighty curious and friendly. For the first few days you just keep them around, no sudden movements, no violence. Just keep a firm hand on them, and feed them well.

Horses when frightened cant think, not even so much as people, but once they know a man, theyll trust him to take them anywhere at all.

She looked at him thoughtfully. You must be a kind man, she said gently. Most men around here break their horses rough.

He flushed and looked away, feeling the slow red on his face and neck and hating himself for being self-conscious. I dont know about that, maam.

Hurriedly, he tried to change the subject. Your folks live here?

A shadow touched her face. No, they are dead, long ago. I live with Joe Peters over on the sidehill. He and Mom took me in when I was a child. Her eyes went to his. You arent staying here?

I was figuring on drifting through, he said, down toward the canyon country. I got me a little place down there, and I figured to rest up for a while.

It must be nice to go wherever you want, she said slowly, shifting the heavy wooden bucket in her hands. This is an awful place!

The sudden feeling in her voice shocked him. Why dont you leave?

I cant. Dan Spencer wouldnt let me, not even if I found a way to get out.

Spencer? Whats he to you? Milt Cogar pushed his black hat back on his head and looked at her, seeing the softness in her eyes, and the worry, too. Yet it was more than worry: it was fear.

He runs Mesquite and everybody in it. Hewants me.

Do you want him? You aim to marry him?

She flushed anew. Ive not much to say about it here. If he wants me, theres nobody to stop him. As for the rest of it, he hasnt said anything about marrying.

Milt Cogar felt chill anger rising within him. Who does this Spencer think he is? he demanded. Nobody can take a girl unless she wants to go! This countrys free!