The Devil's Roundup Part 5

Stiles wheeled the horse and rode away, not looking back.

Saber studied the retreating back for a long moment, then turned to Edith Bodry. "Shall we go now?"

She nodded, but made no move. Her eyes glowed with an emotion Saber couldn't place, as she said huskily: "1 knew you were dangerous the first time 1 saw you, but I had no idea how dangerous until now. Stiles is a killer, and yet he was frightened. Somehow, I'm frightened, too."

"My only wish," Saber said, "was to please a lady." He watched the color climb into her cheeks, but did not smile after she turned her mount.

Buck Bodry rested on his wide front porch, never taking his eyes from his wife and the somber man riding beside her. Stiles stood at Bodry's right, anger still staining his cheeks, as Saber dismounted by the watering trough, lifting Edith Bodry from the saddle. He spoke a few soft words to her, then removed his hat, standing with it before him. Bodry made no move as they turned toward the porch, speaking only when Edith mounted the steps.

"I thought I told you not to ride today!"

"It slipped my mind," Edith said quietly.

"I'll bet it did," Bodry said. "I'll bet it slipped your mind that you're my wife, too!"

Edith gasped, and Saber placed his foot carefully on the bottom step, folding his hands on his knee. "If you're inferring that Missus Bodry and 1 met by prearrangement, I'll be glad to ram the words down your throat."

Buck Bodry gave Saber close attention. "Stiles said you was salty, but I discounted it then. You know, there could be a rifle or two at your back."

"In all probability there is, but 1 can draw and kill you before their bullets cut me down."

Bodry slapped the arm of his chair. "By G.o.d, you got gall! There ain't no rifles on you, friend. 1 just wanted to know what the h.e.l.l you think you're doing on my ranch."

"I'm afraid I'm lost, after all," Saber said. "I met Missus Bodry by accident, and she was kind enough to ask me to dinner." He flicked his eyes to Edith and saw her quick smile.

"My wife's a fool," Bodry said, "and you must think I'm one, too. There ain't no invites pa.s.sed out around here unless I make 'em, and you ain't on the callin' list. I got you figured now, Saber. 1 knowed you was workin' for Cardigan two hours after you stepped off that train." He stood up, his hand hanging conveniently near his gun. "Now, you turn that horse around and tell Cardigan that if he or any of his men set foot on my place, they'll get lead poisonin'."

"That," Saber said, "is as plain an offer as I've had today."

He straightened, and moved toward his horse. Edith Bodry remained on the porch, watching him. Saber turned his head, gazing at the grove of stunted pines two miles away, and then whipped his eyes back to her. The meaning in the look was as clear as a spoken word. He felt his heart quicken as she smiled fleetingly, then turned away into the house.

Stiles watched Saber with a flat-faced hatred. Saber grinned at him, then wheeled his horse, and galloped from the yard.

He held that pace until he came to the grove of trees, then paused to rest the horse. He pulled his hat lower over his eyes, and studied the land. The sun was making a vertical stand in the heavens and the Bodry ranch buildings were a dark spot in the distance. He became alert when a small bush rustled. He saw a large rabbit pause twenty feet away, pale-bellied and pulsating.

Saber's hand went into his coat, and the short-barreled Colt shattered the serenity of the morning. The rabbit flopped once, then lay still. Saber returned the gun to the upside-down holster, then crossed to pick up the rabbit. Satisfaction made him smile as he remounted.

It was a clear head shot.

Willie turned the rabbit over a low bed of coals. Burt sat on a deadfall and cleaned the bore of his Spencer. The fire made a splash of irregular light against the high rocks that sheltered them.

Saber leaned on a bedroll he'd never seen before and said: "Where did all of this come from?" He indicated the sleeping tarps, blankets, and small pile of supplies.

"Ed-John brought it out this morning in the buckboard. Lila baked us a pie." Burt said this with feeling, and Saber glanced at him pointedly, trying to read between the words.

"You know her long? She seems to be an unusual woman."

"Five years," Willie said. "Ever since her folks moved on Cardigan's place." He pulled the rabbit off the stick, and divided it onto three tin plates. "What's on for tonight?"

"A moonlight ride," Saber said. "Alone."

"You can get lost in those badlands," Burt said.

"1 won't get lost," Saber said, and thought of Edith Bodry. He remembered her words and her smile and the feel of her as he lifted her from her horse. She hates her husband, he decided, and a woman who hates will talk... He let his mind dwell on the possibilities as he settled back to eat.

Saber washed his plate with dirt, cleaning his knife and fork by plunging them into the ground. Darkness grew thicker, a chill breath blew down from the higher land, and he stood up to lay out his saddle blanket. Willie and Burt Kerry made an indistinct huddle on the other side of the fire. Saber licked a cigar into shape before speaking.

"How long have you known Missus Bodry, Willie?"

"Three... four years. Before she married Buck."

Saber phrased the question in his mind, then said: "There seems to be a little strain in the relationship... you know what 1 mean?"

"Buck is mean to her," Burt said. "Me and Hank Potter was fool in' around the back of Harris's stable one night when Buck and Edith came to get their rig. They was goin' 'round and 'round about somethin' when Buck just up and whacked her across the chops."

"She's his wife," Willie said. "And a man's wife is his business."

The tip of Saber's cigar glowed and died. He let the silence spread out, long and thin before murmuring: "1 wonder why she puts up with it?"

"She married him for his money," Burt stated.

"You don't know that!" Willie's voice was sharp. "She ain't like that. She wanted security. 1 guess n.o.body's anyway blamin' her. Buck wasn't always that ornery."

Saber gave it some thought and said: "1 wonder what changed the man?"

"Who knows?" Willie murmured. "Life's a funny proposition. A man thinks one way one day, and then tomorrow comes along and changes it." He stretched out on his blankets. "Think I'll get a little sleep."

Saber let the night wear on until the moon was fifteen degrees up on the horizon, then rose to saddle the bay.

Burt rolled over in his blankets and said: "1 can go with you if you like."

"Not tonight," Saber said, and pulled the cinch tight. He dropped the stirrups, and swung up. The fire had died to a small point of red. He turned the horse, sifting his way out of the rocks.

He crossed the fence, pausing to listen, but heard nothing save the small movements of nocturnal creatures. He let the horse walk, turning his head often until he approached the grove of trees. He studied their black length, seeing nothing, then dismounted and tethered the bay a few yards from the fringe. He hunkered down to wait, not really expecting her, but filled with a faint hope.

An hour pa.s.sed. He fidgeted, wanting to roll a smoke. The moon was blanketed by moving clouds. He stood up as he heard the soft footfall of a horse on the gra.s.s, then he saw Edith threading her way along the edge of the trees. He stepped out to meet her.

Saber raised his arms for her to dismount, and she touched the ground, coming against him immediately.

She said huskily: "This is...insane."

"Then why did you come?"

She smiled at the foolishness of his question, knowing it was something he knew but still desired to hear, and laid her head against him, saying: "From the first moment I saw you . ..yesterday, on the road.. .you knew that 1 would come to you whenever you lifted a finger."

Her honesty struck a chord on his conscience, and he said doubtfully: "Maybe this was not wise, after all."

"I wanted to come," she said quickly. "Buckley is asleep. It was easy for me to slip away."

She raised her head to look at him, and their lips met. He had intended that it be a casual kiss, but the fire within her ate into him, and he found his arms crushing her, holding her as if he would never get his fill.

She moaned softly as he released her, and she lay limply in his arms. "Is it so wicked to love you like this?"

Saber said gravely: "1 should never have suggested this. You deserve better than 1 am."

"What are you, John?"

"You know my name, then?" Saber was surprised.

"A woman can learn what she wants to learn," Edith said. "She can also know when another man is out to get her husband."

"I hold Bodry no ill will."

"The badge on the lining of your coat is hard, John. What else could you be after?"

Saber's voice was slightly ragged. Her body was warm and sweetly curved against him, and her nearness unsteadied him. "You admit, then, that he is behind the missing cattle?"

"Is that what you want me to tell you? 1 could tell you, John. Then there would be no doubt in your mind. I know you now, and I know Buckley. There is no halfway with you ...with a woman or a man you mean to get. You'd face Buckley straight out, and maybe Stiles and the rest of them. Then Buckley would be dead ...oh, I have no doubt that you could kill him.. .then there would be just you and I to face each other and both know that that's the way we wanted it. You might love me then, and people would look at both of us, and they'd say that John Saber killed my husband so that he could have me for himself 1 can tell you now about the cattle, if that's what you want."

She had touched the core of the thing like a fine rifle shot, and John Saber admired her for it.

"No," he said quietly, "don't tell me. I'll find it out for myself... one way or another."

"Then what of us, John?"

"1 don't know," he said. "I wasn't thinking of tomorrow ...only now."

"Perhaps that is wisest," Edith whispered, and raised her face for his kiss.

It was after midnight when Saber swung on the bay to make his way cautiously toward the Cardigan fence. The moon was a dying thing, on the downward swing, and fleeting clouds made the night black for long moments at a time.

He paused at the fence line, rolling a badly needed smoke, and tried to organize his thoughts. He had fallen in deeper than he'd intended, but he felt no regret. Her kisses had been a strong wine, drugging him, and now, as he tried to review their conversation with his usual detached air, it failed to come off as successfully as it had in the past.

He drew long on his smoke, cupping it between his hands, then raised his head as the soft drumming of hoofs came to him-a fast-ridden horse headed for the badlands to the west of him.

He heard a footfall behind him, and whirled as Willie Kerry said: "I've heard that horse before.. .on other nights like this."

"You walk like an Indian," Saber said, then concentrated on the distant sound. "Know that rider?"

"No," Kerry said. "Did you find out anything?"

Saber paused for a moment, then said: "Not much." He made a decision. "Get your horse and we'll see where this fella's going."

Kerry swung away, reappearing a moment later with his pony. He mounted, waited for Saber to do likewise, then moved ahead through the fence, leading the way toward the badlands.

Within an hour the contours of the land began to change. Vegetation was spa.r.s.e, and rocks made dark jumbled ma.s.ses as they ran into jagged piles, the residue of some glacial push.

Kerry threaded his way expertly, silently upward, pausing in a scooped-out bowl to give the pony a breather. "Runs for miles like this," he said softly. "There's a few seeps, an' a line cabin over there to the north. If a man was to live out here, he'd probably use it."

"Bodry keep a crew out here?"

"Eight or ten men all the time," Kerry said. "I never saw 'em to count, but I can guess from the amount of grub that leaves the main ranch house."

"Let's go take a look."

"Pretty risky," Kerry said. "Better wait till daylight. We might stumble on more than we can handle."

"Night covers many things," Saber opined, and nudged his horse into motion.

The land climbed higher, and Saber struggled to keep from losing his sense of direction. He heard no sound except the ring of the bay's shod hoofs, saw nothing except the jumbled boulders and the black shadows that kept them company.

Kerry moved his pony to side Saber and pointed to a split in the ridge, yet a quarter mile distant. "There's the pa.s.s to the line cabin. My guess is there's a man with a rifle sittin' there, just waitin' for a couple of suckers to come snoopin' along."

"A valley in there?" Saber asked.

"Small one, but big enough, if you know what I mean."

Saber dismounted. "Let's take a look." He swung back his head to study the sky. "Be dawn in another hour and a half. We'll have time to take a quick look and get out."

Kerry led the horses away, snaking his Winchester from the rifle boot before he rejoined Saber. Then Willie moved out, taking care to keep rock shelter between them and the pa.s.s. He stopped a short time later to take his bearings, then moved off again, slightly to the left. They skirted the split rocks that announced the pa.s.s and climbed until it lay below them.

Saber stretched himself flat to study the land below. The moon peeked from behind the clouds, showing him the dark shape hunkered down below them in the pa.s.s. He nudged Kerry, drawing his attention to the man.

Kerry whispered: "He could be a real hindrance if we had to get out in a hurry."

"Can you do anything about it?"

Kerry smiled broadly. He stripped off his sh.e.l.l belt, stuffing the long-barreled .44 in the waistband of his jeans.

"See you later," he whispered, and was immediately swallowed by the night.

III.

Saber listened carefully, but could hear no sound. No animal moved-nothing broke the silence. Below him, Kerry slipped like a shadow, and, farther down, the guard lay dozing over his rifle. Saber heard the sudden rattle of rocks, then a thud, fol lowed by a long silence. He rubbed his hands together nervously and settled himself to wait, jumping in surprise as Willie Kerry materialized by his side.

"Done," Kerry said, and Saber stood up, ready to move down into the valley.

"1'd hate to have you after me," Saber said.

The dawn was just below the horizon and a faint light was beginning to dim the dying moon. Saber saw the cabin and pole corral ahead of him, a dim, squat shape.

Kerry said: "Get your look over with. They'll be up soon, and it ain't long to daylight."

Saber moved closer until he was twenty yards from the cabin. Inside, a stove lid banged, and a moment later a trickle of smoke oozed sluggishly from the chimney.

The land was rapidly turning gray with growing light, and a horse stamped nervously in the corral. A mile away, where gra.s.s covered the valley floor, a cattle herd stirred in isolated patches. Saber studied it for a long moment.

Willie touched him, whispering: "All right, you saw it. Now let's get out of here."