'Of course. That way they might not bother to come back. What is there for anyone in Siwash? Except those of us who have no money with which to leave.'
For a while they sat in silence, then Emily said, 'If it's just money - '
'I earn my own money.'
'Reckon so. Reckon you always will. I just figured that if a loan would help you to move out of this place, I could come up with it.'
''Gracias. I do not think so. I will wait. Soon I will have enough, and then I shall go.' She paused. 'At least you were never one of those who tried to force me to go.'
'No, I never was ... nor was Talon.' Emily Talon hesitated. 'It was just that you were too popular, and a durned sight too much woman. They were afraid you'd take their men from them.'
'I did not want them.' She turned her head and looked at Em in the darkness. 'You were not afraid?'
'Of Talon? No ... one woman was all he ever wanted. One that was his own.'
'You are right, but what of your son?'
'Milo? You mean you an' Milo?'
'Not Milo.'
'Barnabas? I didn't think he had it in him.'
'He was a good man, a fine man. I liked him. He was a gentleman.'
'Thanks.' Em got to her feet. 'I got to be far back in the hills come daylight.'
'Be careful. Jake Flanner will not care that you are a woman. Nor will most of the men he has now ... they are scum.'
'I know that Len Spivey. I ...'
'Do not worry about him. He will not be one of them.'
At the door Em paused, looking back. 'Len Spivey?'
'Logan killed him. He was the first one.'
Em went down the steps with care, then paused to look carefully about. At last she crossed the small yard to the mule. Dolores Arribas, standing in her doorway, heard the leather creak as she mounted.
'Mrs. Talon? I did not see it, but from what I heard I would swear that was Barnabas out there today.'
Emily Talon waited a slow minute, wanting to believe it. 'Barnabas?'
'He rode in at the right time. They'd have killed Sackett. Oh, he was making his fight, but he'd been hit hard and Jake Flanner himself was lining up for a shot and so was Brewer.'
'And Barnabas fetched him?'
'He did. He took Brewer out, then turned his rifle, but Flanner was gone.'
'That's Jake, all right That's Jake Flanner.'
'Yes, Mrs. Talon. So you be careful. Very, very careful. It is you they want, you know. Just you.'
Emily Talon turned her mule toward the mountains. Barnabas was back. Her son was home again.
Chapter 14
Em Talon was a considering woman, and now she gave thought to Barnabas and his plight. He was riding into the mountains with a wounded man. He would need shelter, and he would need medical attention for Logan. The obvious place was the Empty, but if they had tried to cross the country between Siwash and the ranch they would have certainly been inviting death.
Hence they must have headed for the mountains, to lose themselves in the forest at the earliest possible moment.
Barnabas would undoubtedly try to reach the ranch, but he had never known the mountain trails as Milo had, and Logan might be in no condition to show him the trail he knew. Apparently Barnabas emerged from the gun battle uninjured, but there was no way she could be sure of that.
Talon had hunted and trapped these mountains years before any other white man he knew of, and part of that time Em had hunted with him. She knew trails where no trails seemed to be, and she knew those the buffalo used to find the mountain meadows.
When he was but ten years old she had once taken Barnabas with her into the mountains, showing him the lightning-blazed pine on the shoulder of the mountain that marked the opening of the trail to the crest of the ridge. It was likely he would remember that trail, for it had been their first trip into the mountains together, his first trip into the very high mountains. The mule's memory was good, for he had followed this trail many times and as soon as she turned him toward it, he knew where he was going.
It had changed, of course. The screen of brush that concealed the opening was thicker now, and the grove of young aspens had become sturdy trees in the passing of time, but the trail was there and she followed it swiftly. When she was well back in the forest she dismounted and screening the match with her hands, she studied the trail. There were two horses, one close behind the other, the second one probably led.
She made no attempt to guide the mule. It was almost too dark to see the trail under the trees and the mule could be trusted. At places they skirted the very rim of a canyon, a vast depth that fell away on one side. They climbed steadily.
At last, knowing she could go no farther without seeing their tracks, she got down from the mule at a place she knew. She had camped here before. There was fuel and shelter, and sounds from down the canyon carried easily to this point. Unsaddling the mule, she picketed it and wrapped it up in a blanket, leaning against the flat bole of a tree.
For a long tune she remained awake looking at the stars through the trees and letting her tired muscles relax slowly to invite sleep. It was not as easy as it once was. She was old now, and her muscles grew stiff too early in the game. She thought ahead, trying to decide where Barnabas would be apt to stop.
Awakening, she watched a chipmunk nibbling at a seed he had found. For a moment she sat still just enjoying the gray light of morning. The air was damp, and she was surprised to observe that a light rain had fallen during the night without disturbing her.
She got up slowly, led the mule to the little trickle of water that came from a spring under the scarp, and dipped enough water for tea. Back at camp she kindled a fire and brewed a cup, drank it, and saddled up, listening to the sounds from down the canyon. She heard nothing, but she had not expected to. If there was pursuit it would come this morning, and by now they were breakfasting and arguing about what happened the night before. That would give her another hour's advantage.
Now she moved with greater care, studying the trail as the mule moved along. Usually she could pick up the sign well ahead - a track here, a bruised leaf there, the mark left by the edge of a shoe. They had been moving slower; obviously Barnabas was hunting a place to stop.
She rode into the cirque almost an hour later when the sun was halfway up the morning. It was right at timber-line, the last of the growth giving way to the tumbled talus of broken rock that had broken off the walls and fallen down to mingle with the stunted growth and grass. She found the place where the horses had cropped grass and crushed down grass and wild flowers where a bed had been.
One rider had ridden off by himself, leaving the other behind. That would be Barnabas heading for the Empty, which was hard to get to from here unless a body knew every twist of the trail.
But where was Logan Sackett?
She knew he had to be in bad shape, and a hunted man in bad shape would hunt a hole. He would want to be out of sight, and he would need water and a place for his horse. Em Talon scanned the country, studying every possible nook or corner that might offer such a shelter. There were several possibilities but all came to nothing.
Logan Sackett had vanished.
Could he have followed Barnabas? It was a possibility. In any event there was one thing she could do. She could make a lot of tracks so those who might try to find him would not guess that he was hidden, as Em was quite sure he was.
Yet the cirque's high walls eliminated any possible way out on three sides. A rider or walker would have to go down the mountain. Mounting her mule again she also turned toward the open side of the cirque and walked the animal down the dim trail into the canyon.
White, slim aspens lined the trail on either side, their pale green leaves trembling slightly. Due to some quirk of temperature or wind currents this grove was higher on the mountain's slope than the aspen was usually found.
