Novel 1962 - High Lonesome (v5.0) Read Online Free
the type. Most of them had come west early, as mountain men or prospectors, and they had lived hard, lonely lives, relying on their own abilities to survive.
“Going to marry her to some farmer?” Dutch asked.
“She ain’t going to marry no outlaw, if that’s what you mean.” Spanyer glanced at Considine, who was out of hearing. “If you’re riding with him you’d better fight shy of Obaro.”
“You don’t know him.”
“I know Pete Runyon.” Spanyer looked toward his daughter, who had walked over to their horses. It was growing light now, and a good time to move on. “Don’t say you weren’t warned.”
Dave Spanyer watched them ride on, walking to the edge of the trail to watch them go. Lennie came up beside him.
“Stay away from men like that, Lennie. They’re no good. There’s not many of these new outfits that are worth riding with, but these men…Well, I don’t say they ain’t good men in their way. That Dutch, I knew him a long time back, and Considine, everybody knows him.”
Spanyer turned away. They could have it. They could have the long, cold rides, the lonely camps, the scarce rations. All he wanted was a place in California in the sunshine where he could raise horses and some of that fruit he had heard tell of.
“He’s handsome, Pa. The tall one, I mean.”
“None of that! Don’t you be gettin’ any ideas, now. He ain’t your kind.”
Considine was a fool to go back to Obaro, or any place close to it. Nobody had ever tapped that bank and nobody was likely to, not with Runyon the sheriff. And he had a town full of tough men.
Spanyer turned his mind to California. He knew where he was going out there, knew the place well because he had got off a stage there once. It was a little place called Agua Caliente, tucked in a corner of the San Jacintos, and he had laid up there several weeks when he wanted to stay out of sight.
Riding the outlaw trail was all right for the young sprouts, but a man was a fool to stay with it. He would buy a little place from the Indians, irrigate a patch, and raise some fruit. It wasn’t likely that anybody would show up around there who was likely to know him, and after a while he would move on out to the coast if things looked good. By that time they would have forgotten him.
“Those men were outlaws, weren’t they?”
“It doesn’t matter. Don’t you pay them no mind.”
They mounted up, and when he was in the saddle he said, “Never pays to know too much. You didn’t see anybody, you don’t know anything about anybody.”
Dave Spanyer turned his thoughts from Considine and his men and thought of the trail ahead. It was Indian country, and he was foolish to try to get through alone. Still, no Indian knew more about the trails than he did, and if necessary he knew how to live off the country.
He was taking a chance, especially with Lennie along, but they had nothing back where they came from, and folks had found out about him. The daughter of an outlaw would have no chance to grow up and live a decent life; but out there in California…well, most of his kind stayed in Arizona. In fact, unless they were sent to Yuma pen they never went as far west as the Colorado.
He rode a few yards ahead of Lennie, his Winchester in his hand. He knew the desert too well to be fooled by its seeming innocence. If all went well they would noon at Pozo Redondo. There was a store there, and he could buy what supplies they needed before going on into the desert.
With Considine and his outfit in the vicinity, it would be a good idea to stay away from Obaro. Somebody might remember his connection with Dutch and he would be involved.
The sun came up over the ridge and it grew hot. Nothing moved out on the wide sagebrush flats. Suddenly he saw the tracks…four unshod ponies had crossed the trail…hours before.
Dave Spanyer stared off in the direction they had gone, but there was nothing out there that he could see, nothing at all.
----
A T THE FOOT of
“Going to marry her to some farmer?” Dutch asked.
“She ain’t going to marry no outlaw, if that’s what you mean.” Spanyer glanced at Considine, who was out of hearing. “If you’re riding with him you’d better fight shy of Obaro.”
“You don’t know him.”
“I know Pete Runyon.” Spanyer looked toward his daughter, who had walked over to their horses. It was growing light now, and a good time to move on. “Don’t say you weren’t warned.”
Dave Spanyer watched them ride on, walking to the edge of the trail to watch them go. Lennie came up beside him.
“Stay away from men like that, Lennie. They’re no good. There’s not many of these new outfits that are worth riding with, but these men…Well, I don’t say they ain’t good men in their way. That Dutch, I knew him a long time back, and Considine, everybody knows him.”
Spanyer turned away. They could have it. They could have the long, cold rides, the lonely camps, the scarce rations. All he wanted was a place in California in the sunshine where he could raise horses and some of that fruit he had heard tell of.
“He’s handsome, Pa. The tall one, I mean.”
“None of that! Don’t you be gettin’ any ideas, now. He ain’t your kind.”
Considine was a fool to go back to Obaro, or any place close to it. Nobody had ever tapped that bank and nobody was likely to, not with Runyon the sheriff. And he had a town full of tough men.
Spanyer turned his mind to California. He knew where he was going out there, knew the place well because he had got off a stage there once. It was a little place called Agua Caliente, tucked in a corner of the San Jacintos, and he had laid up there several weeks when he wanted to stay out of sight.
Riding the outlaw trail was all right for the young sprouts, but a man was a fool to stay with it. He would buy a little place from the Indians, irrigate a patch, and raise some fruit. It wasn’t likely that anybody would show up around there who was likely to know him, and after a while he would move on out to the coast if things looked good. By that time they would have forgotten him.
“Those men were outlaws, weren’t they?”
“It doesn’t matter. Don’t you pay them no mind.”
They mounted up, and when he was in the saddle he said, “Never pays to know too much. You didn’t see anybody, you don’t know anything about anybody.”
Dave Spanyer turned his thoughts from Considine and his men and thought of the trail ahead. It was Indian country, and he was foolish to try to get through alone. Still, no Indian knew more about the trails than he did, and if necessary he knew how to live off the country.
He was taking a chance, especially with Lennie along, but they had nothing back where they came from, and folks had found out about him. The daughter of an outlaw would have no chance to grow up and live a decent life; but out there in California…well, most of his kind stayed in Arizona. In fact, unless they were sent to Yuma pen they never went as far west as the Colorado.
He rode a few yards ahead of Lennie, his Winchester in his hand. He knew the desert too well to be fooled by its seeming innocence. If all went well they would noon at Pozo Redondo. There was a store there, and he could buy what supplies they needed before going on into the desert.
With Considine and his outfit in the vicinity, it would be a good idea to stay away from Obaro. Somebody might remember his connection with Dutch and he would be involved.
The sun came up over the ridge and it grew hot. Nothing moved out on the wide sagebrush flats. Suddenly he saw the tracks…four unshod ponies had crossed the trail…hours before.
Dave Spanyer stared off in the direction they had gone, but there was nothing out there that he could see, nothing at all.
----
A T THE FOOT of
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