If I hadn't carried him out of there he'd be waitin' for buzzards by now. But with a tough old man like that, you can't be sure.
This Dayton was a rugged man in his own way, but all polish and surface. I didn't take to him. But now he'd brought me face to face with my kin.
Nolan Sackett came in a step or two behind him, and we looked at each other across the room.
'You could be in better company,' I said, right off.
He grinned at me. 'Show's on you,' he said. 'You're one of those preachin' Sacketts.'
He was as broad in the shoulders as I, and a right powerful man, maybe twenty pounds heavier, with a big chest and thick arms that swelled out his shirt sleeves until they were like to bust. His face was wider than mine, with a blunt jaw and a nose that had been broken sometime back, but he had the Sackett look to him, all right, and all we Sacketts favor, more or less.
'I never drew a gun on no Sackett,'
I said, 'and I hope you don't fix it so's I have to.'
'You could leave out of here,' he said. He had a tough, insolent way about him, but he was curious, too, for here we kinfolk had met up away out in California, a far piece from the Tennessee mountains.
'You finally clean out them Higginses?' he asked.
'Tyrel fetched the last one.'
'They were fighters. I mind the time two of them had me cornered up on McLean Rock, and me with a bullet in me.'
'Was that you? My brother Orrin told me of it. He toted you down off the mountain, piggy-back. Ten, twelve miles.'
Dayton was irritated. 'We came on business, Nolan. In case you've forgotten.'
Nolan ignored him. 'Rose Marie Higgins came around on mule back ... one of the Trelawney girls with her. She came to find where those Higginses were so's they could have Christian burial.'
'Orrin, he went back up and dug for them both,' I said, 'and he spoke words over them, and read from the Book. Then he wrote them--their people, that is. He wrote them to tell where the graves were.
'Given time,' I said, 'we Smoky Mountain and Cumberland Sacketts always bury our dead, we bury them Christian.'
'Like out on the Mojave?' Nolan said, wicked-like.
'Wasn't much time,' I explained, 'and I had a woman with me. Had there been time, I'd have read over them.'
'Nolan ...' Dayton was getting almight upset over our talk.
'You came on business,' Nolan said, 'so get on with it.'
'It concerns you!' Dayton declared angrily.
'If anything goes wrong ...'
'I know,' Nolan said patiently, 'if anything goes wrong I've got to do the fightin'.
That's what I'm paid for. All right, you settle your affairs, and when fightin' time comes around, I'll be there.'
'I hope you ain't,' I said. 'I never read over no Sackett, and I ain't honin' to.'
'You tell me where at you keep the Book,'
Nolan said. 'I'll be doin' the readin'.'
'Come, come, gentlemen!' Old Ben, he looked as cheerful as a 'possum eatin' persimmons. 'No business until after we've eaten.'
'I hate to spoil your appetite, old man,' Dayton said, in that nasty way he had, 'but I came to foreclose. I own this ranch.'
Glancing across the table, I happened to notice Dorinda. She was looking at those raw, chewed-out hands of Old Ben's like she couldn't believe what she saw.
'Your hands, Mr. Mandrin! You've hurt your hands!'
Chapter Seven.
For a minute there, the roam was as empty of sound as if everybody had suddenly lost their voices, even their power to breathe. Old Ben Mandrin, supposedly moving only from his bed to a chair and back again, had the palms of his hands raked and lacerated like nothing you ever saw. They weren't bandaged ... there was no real need of that, but they were raw and plenty sore.
The question in everybody's mind but mine was, how did they get that way? And the old coot was enjoying it. Why, I don't think he'd had so much fun since the last time he made somebody walk the plank ... if he ever did.
Dayton was studying him, his eyes hot with suspicion, and Oliphant was almighty worried. Nolan Sackett, he just threw a hard look at Old Ben's hands, then at his face, and then Nolan went to eating.
Old Ben gestured carelessly. 'It's nothing, Dorinda, don't worry your mind about it.'
He looked too self-satisfied to please Dayton. By all Dayton's figuring, the old man should be worried sick and begging for a way out, but there he sat, all smug and smart, those old devil eyes of his brighter than a raccoon's.
Old Ben tied into his food like he'd earned it, and there for a while nobody had anything to say.
Me, I was fair-to-middlin' hungry, but most of all what I needed was sleep. There'd been none the night before, and very little for some time past, and it was going to do my eye and my shooting no good, if it came to that.
When Old Ben sat back to enjoy his coffee he said, 'Old man my age doesn't have many pleasures, and what he has he figures to pay for.
'When Dorinda here started being nice to me, and seemed to set her cap for me, I knew something was in the wind. Turner had introduced her to me as his niece, but Turner had never mentioned a niece before, and when she started offering to care for me and the like, I was suspicious.
'Then when Turner asked me for a loan to keep his bank afloat, I gave some thought to it.
He'd loaned me cash a time or two a long while back ... or rather, his father had, and I owed the bank some help.
'Meanwhile, Dorinda was still around the place, fetching and carrying for me of her own free will, making me more comfortable, fixing the blanket over my knees, puffing a pillow back of my head, and moving about the place, swishing her skirts.
'Think that doesn't do a lot for an old man? It did for me. Now, I had no fancy in my mind that she was starting to care for me. Maybe when I was fifty, or even a mite later, but not now; but I could still enjoy her being there and watching her move around.
'You've got to admit she's pretty much of a woman, and she was always the lady. But you've got to admit she keeps what she's got so you know it's there.'
He chuckled. 'I reckon I'll miss her.'
'Get to the point,' Dayton said. 'I want you out of here ... today.'
That Dayton now ... he was a man I could come to dislike.
Old Ben's eyes turned on Dayton like a pair of six-shooters, and he said, 'You are to be disappointed, Mr. Dayton. I am not leaving.
You are not taking my property, which is worth fifty times that note I signed for Turner, and which you now hold. You are not taking my property now ... or ever.'
He had changed so sudden it startled a body.
Here he was--or seemed to be--a doddering old man talking about a young woman ... and then his tone changed and those old eyes of his changed, and Dayton knew right away that he was facing into trouble.
'What do you mean?' Dayton leaned forward.
'Why, you damned old fool! That note's due and you know it, and I'm granting you no time. Every friend you have who might lend you money is in as bad shape as you are because of this drought! Now you get off this ranch, and get off now!'
That Ben Mandrin was a hard old man. He chuckled, one of the meanest chuckles you ever heard, and he said, 'Why, Mr. Dayton, I'm going to surprise you. I'm going to pay you your petty little note ... with interest!'
