Gather My Horses

have let him go. We would have still been up on the flats at that time.”

Leonora set her cup on the saucer and held the two pieces with both hands. “It wouldn’t have mattered,” she said in a bitter tone. “The cowards would have gotten him one way or another.”

Selby and Roe did not look up, and an uncomfortable silence hung in the room until Fielding said, “I think you’re right. The part I left out was that he offered to go along for my sake. He wasn’t worried about himself.”

“That was Richard,” said Leonora. “More of a man than the ones that came looking for him.”

Selby drew himself up as if he was about to speak, and Fielding was afraid he was going to say that it looked as if only one man did the job, but then Selby relaxed and said nothing. Leonora did not speak again, either. A few minutes later, Selby stood up and took leave. Roe followed, taking Isabel with him. Leonora withdrew, and Fielding helped Mullins carry the leftover cold food to the cafe.

Fielding woke to the sound of birds fluttering and squawking. As he peeked out of the flap of his pyramid tent, he could see the young cotton-woods against the gray sky of morning. A flock of starlings had moved in, and the birds were traveling back and forth across the creek, between the cottonwoods and the box elders. There wasn’t much food for them here, he thought. Even if he had a shotgun, it would not be easy to run off a flock like this one. He would just endure them and not leave out anything for them to drop their deposits on. Before long they would move on, and if they followed the creek they would find a patch of chokecherry bushes, where they would strip all the fruit before it ripened. After that they could go ten or fifteen miles north and plunder a wheat field.

He tended to his horses and got a fire going, then boiled some coffee to go with his cold biscuits. Nothing tasted good, and he had an irritated, dissatisfied feeling mixed in with the dread and sadness. If there was nothing good about Bracken’s death, there was even less so about Lodge’s, and brooding in camp alone had not improved his state of mind.

After breakfast, he put his few things away and saddled the bay horse. With his other horses corralled, he left his camp to the starlings and rode off across country. His plan was to visit Selby first and then Roe, and he didn’t want to ride past the junk collector’s on the way.

When he rode into Selby’s yard, the man came out to meet him. Selby looked ready for the day with his hat on and his gloves in his hip pocket, but he seemed fidgety as he said good morning and gave a smile.

Fielding returned the greeting and dismounted.

Selby sounded as if he was making an effort to appear cheerful. “What’s on your mind today,

Tom?”

“More of the same, I’d guess. And yourself?”

“Likewise. Are you goin’ out on another trip before long?”

“In a couple of days.”

“Well, that’s good. Keep you busy, get you away so your mind isn’t on all this other stuff.”

“It seems to follow me.”

“Oh.” Selby drew his mouth together as he closed off the sound.

Fielding tried to gauge the man but couldn’t. It seemed as if Selby had reconsidered things and was now avoiding both comment and confrontation. Fielding spoke. “I’ll tell you, Bill, I dropped in to see if we could come up with some idea of how we were going to do things.”

“Uh-huh.” Selby’s eyes had a blank expression.

Fielding went on. “You’ve got an idea what I mean.”

Selby blinked. “Well, no. Actually, I don’t. You’ll have to fill me in.”

“What I mean is, you’ve been sayin’ all along that we need to stick together, which is even plainer now than before.”

“It’s true I’ve said that—”

Fielding narrowed his gaze on the man. “Do you think you’re having second thoughts about it?”

“Well, no, not exactly.”

“I’m wonderin’, then, if anyone’s got an idea, or a plan, on what we’re going to do as a group. I don’t have any ideas myself, but I don’t have holdings like the rest of you, so I may not see things the same.”

Selby shrugged. “Maybe.”

Fielding went on. “I can’t help thinking that we should have done something rather than just wait. Even Richard—”

“It’s too late for him,” said Selby. “He wasn’t worried about himself, but maybe he should have been.”

“Seems to me we all should be.”

“You’d be a fool not to. If a man doesn’t look out for himself, who’s going to?”

Fielding could almost hear Lodge’s voice. Mark my words. Maintaining his calm, he said, “Then I guess each of us has to have his own plan first.”

Selby put up a matter-of-fact expression as he said, “I think you’ve got to start there.”

“I see.” What Fielding actually saw, he didn’t state. Cronin’s men had started by making an example out of Selby, had raised the stakes when they moved on to Fielding, and had raised them even higher when they took care of Lodge. Now Selby did not want them to come back to him, and he wanted to avoid an alliance with Fielding that might bring on more retribution. Fielding looked down and then up again. “Do you have a plan for yourself?” he asked.

“Not yet. But I might be workin’ on one.”

“Well, I won’t ask about it.”

“Oh, it’s not a secret,” said Selby right away. “Just not very definite.” After a short pause, he added, “I’m thinkin’ I might pull up my stakes here.”

“Sell out?”

Selby tipped his head. “I might sell what I can, take what I can. But like I said, none of that’s definite yet.”

Empty homesteads. Just what Cronin wanted. “By the way,” said Fielding, “do you have an idea of what’s going to become of Lodge’s place?”

“The Magpie? I heard yesterday evenin’ that a crazy man was camped out there.”

“Dunvil, the anarchist?”

“I believe that’s him. I haven’t met him myself, but Richard mentioned him. Sounds crazy as a loon.”

“He might be.” Fielding was about to ask Selby where he heard it, but he held his question. He did not think he had that level of confidence with Selby anymore.

The knowledge that Dunvil was camped out at the Magpie caused Fielding to reconsider the sequence of his visits. By the time he had ridden half a mile from Selby’s place, he had decided to go visit the wild man and find out if he knew anything. Turning his horse to the south, he set off across country.

He came onto the homestead acreage a little to the east of where he usually did. From his position he could see three of the four conical rock piles that marked the corners of the property, while the house and stable and corral lay uphill on his right. At first he saw no signs of occupation, and then he noticed the mule picketed on the grass out beyond the stable. With a light movement of the reins he put the bay horse in the direction of the house and yard.

As he rode up the hillside and came into the yard, he had a feeling of emptiness from knowing that Lodge would never tend to his place again. The two little cedar trees stood in an area of sparse grass and hard earth, and the heap of stones by the front step looked purposeless. The door of the house was closed, as were the corral gate and the stable door. Fielding wondered how long it would be until weeds began to take over.

He called out, “Anybody here?”

He waited amidst the silence of inert stones and weathered lumber. Not a breeze stirred. He called again.

The squeak of hinges and the scrape of wood sounded from the stable. The door moved outward, and Dunvil stood in the shadowy opening.

Fielding swung down from his horse and led it forward. Dunvil did not step out of the doorway. His eyes looked like small beads.

“Mornin’,” said Fielding.

“Same to you.”

“Heard you were here.”

Dunvil scratched his beard but said nothing.