the Mountain Valley War (1978) by Louis - Kilkenny 03 L'amour Page B
Authors: Louis - Kilkenny 03 L'amour
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belts about his hips. Matters had gone too far now, and the time for peace was gone. He stood for a moment looking around the quiet room.
Lonely it undoubtedly was, but there was a peace and a stillness here that meant much. How many times he had sat watching the fire on his hearth, or sitting in the door and watching the shadows grow long over the meadow.
There were a half-dozen head of good saddle stock in the corral, and he drove them out and started them down the trail toward the Hatfields'.
Jackson Hight was the last one to reach the Hatfields'.
He came up the trail on a lathered horse, his face white with anger. "Too late!" he said. "They burned me out!" . He looked at Trent. "I tried, Trent, I honestly did, but there were six of them. I winged one, though!"
Smithers pointed off over the trees. They could see a column of smoke there. "O'Hara's place."
Jesse Hatfield rode in. 'Two bunches comin'. They figure to get here about sunup. I overheard their talk."
"All right, Jesse, you get some sleep. You too. Jack. Parson, you and Smithers stand watch, and Quince, I want you and Bartram to ride with me."
"War you all headed for?" Saul asked.
"Why, I was just sort of thinking about going to market! We'll need some groceries, so I thought we kind of might circle around and pay Leathers a visit."
"Count me in on that," Saul suggested.
"You get some sleep. The three of us will do it, and if we can't, four would be too many. You get some rest."
"I ain't so wearied from chasin' antelope that I can't take the ride," Saul insisted. "It's a bad town, and I can surely make myself useful."
"All right, then," Trent yielded. "I'll not deny we can use you."
There was a burst of light off to the south, then smoke, scarcely visible against the darkening sky. "There goes my place," Smithers commented ruefully, "and I had a good crop of potatoes comin' up, too."
"Don't worry about them," Trent replied. "I'll help you dig them when this is over."
Smithers watched the four men ride away, and shook his head. "He surely makes you believe, doesn't he? Somehow his just saying that makes me feel better."
Parson Hatfield took his cold pipe from his teeth and commenced to tamp it. "He means what he says, Smithers, and when he gets around to telling you who he is, you'll have more cause for believing him. There rides one of the most dangerous men in the country, and from all I hear, he never looked to be, it just come up on him."
"Maybe we can win, after all," Smithers said. "Parson, let's go in and have a cup of coffee."
Chapter 7
Trent led the way at a fast trot. The trail they took was a little-known game trail Lije Hatfield had located that led down off the mountain through aspen groves and into the pines. They rode cautiously, pulling up now and again to listen, and carrying their rifles in their hands for ready use.
They saw no one. It was a wild and broken country they came to finally, with great boulders everywhere and scattered cedar. The town lay not far away now but was still invisible.
Trent slowed the pace with more and more frequent stops. Their success depended on their getting into town unseen. Many of Hale's riders would be out looting and burning, and others would be sleeping. At this hour the town should be quiet. The Mecca and the Crystal Palace closed their doors at two in the morning, so all should be easy going if they took no chances.
Drawing up on a small knoll with the town below them, they could see only two or three lights. None of these were along the street except for one light in a room in the hotel where some drummer sat late over his accounts or perhaps over a dime novel.
Trent chose dusty lanes where a hoof would be unlikely to strike a stone, and he led the way past barns and corrals, weaving a careful way through outlying dwellings and garden plots toward the main street. Long since, knowing upon what a slender thread his existence hung, he had taken the time to notice these streets and lanes,
Lonely it undoubtedly was, but there was a peace and a stillness here that meant much. How many times he had sat watching the fire on his hearth, or sitting in the door and watching the shadows grow long over the meadow.
There were a half-dozen head of good saddle stock in the corral, and he drove them out and started them down the trail toward the Hatfields'.
Jackson Hight was the last one to reach the Hatfields'.
He came up the trail on a lathered horse, his face white with anger. "Too late!" he said. "They burned me out!" . He looked at Trent. "I tried, Trent, I honestly did, but there were six of them. I winged one, though!"
Smithers pointed off over the trees. They could see a column of smoke there. "O'Hara's place."
Jesse Hatfield rode in. 'Two bunches comin'. They figure to get here about sunup. I overheard their talk."
"All right, Jesse, you get some sleep. You too. Jack. Parson, you and Smithers stand watch, and Quince, I want you and Bartram to ride with me."
"War you all headed for?" Saul asked.
"Why, I was just sort of thinking about going to market! We'll need some groceries, so I thought we kind of might circle around and pay Leathers a visit."
"Count me in on that," Saul suggested.
"You get some sleep. The three of us will do it, and if we can't, four would be too many. You get some rest."
"I ain't so wearied from chasin' antelope that I can't take the ride," Saul insisted. "It's a bad town, and I can surely make myself useful."
"All right, then," Trent yielded. "I'll not deny we can use you."
There was a burst of light off to the south, then smoke, scarcely visible against the darkening sky. "There goes my place," Smithers commented ruefully, "and I had a good crop of potatoes comin' up, too."
"Don't worry about them," Trent replied. "I'll help you dig them when this is over."
Smithers watched the four men ride away, and shook his head. "He surely makes you believe, doesn't he? Somehow his just saying that makes me feel better."
Parson Hatfield took his cold pipe from his teeth and commenced to tamp it. "He means what he says, Smithers, and when he gets around to telling you who he is, you'll have more cause for believing him. There rides one of the most dangerous men in the country, and from all I hear, he never looked to be, it just come up on him."
"Maybe we can win, after all," Smithers said. "Parson, let's go in and have a cup of coffee."
Chapter 7
Trent led the way at a fast trot. The trail they took was a little-known game trail Lije Hatfield had located that led down off the mountain through aspen groves and into the pines. They rode cautiously, pulling up now and again to listen, and carrying their rifles in their hands for ready use.
They saw no one. It was a wild and broken country they came to finally, with great boulders everywhere and scattered cedar. The town lay not far away now but was still invisible.
Trent slowed the pace with more and more frequent stops. Their success depended on their getting into town unseen. Many of Hale's riders would be out looting and burning, and others would be sleeping. At this hour the town should be quiet. The Mecca and the Crystal Palace closed their doors at two in the morning, so all should be easy going if they took no chances.
Drawing up on a small knoll with the town below them, they could see only two or three lights. None of these were along the street except for one light in a room in the hotel where some drummer sat late over his accounts or perhaps over a dime novel.
Trent chose dusty lanes where a hoof would be unlikely to strike a stone, and he led the way past barns and corrals, weaving a careful way through outlying dwellings and garden plots toward the main street. Long since, knowing upon what a slender thread his existence hung, he had taken the time to notice these streets and lanes,
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