Free Novel 1962 - High Lonesome (v5.0) by Louis L’Amour Page A

folks. Never rightly understood them. Your Ma was different. She knew how to handle me, but I just do the wrong things, Lennie. You got to make allowances.”
    She said nothing, so he searched for words as they rode through the hot, still afternoon. “Had your Ma lived we’d have made out, and she’d want you to marry a good man and have a home, and that’s what I want for you.”
    It was only a few hours ago that the rain had ceased, yet there was small indication of it except for some cracked mud in the bottom of a hollow here and there. But his instinct told him that water would be the least of their troubles before this ride was over. He wiped his rifle free of dust, then bit off a chew of tobacco.
    He scanned the desert and the mountains. A man never knew there were Apaches around until they started to shoot—not unless he kept his eyes open.
    But his thoughts kept reverting to Lennie. He wanted to reach her, to make her understand. He groped for words, yet every trail his thoughts tried to follow led into an unfamiliar jungle of ideas where he was not at home.
    Finally he said, “There’s more to loving a man than kissing and such.”
    “I know there is, Pa.”
    Relieved at her response, he went on, “Next shade, we’ll pull up for a bit.”
    They must keep their horses fresh, for there was no telling when they might have to run for it.
    Suddenly, in front of them, they saw the tracks that came out of the desert to the southeast and cut across their trail. Six unshod ponies, the tracks not an hour old.…
    Spanyer studied their trail, looked off in the direction toward which they were riding, but saw nothing. “Might have seen us,” he said. “We’d better take care.”
    “Pa?”
    “Huh?”
    “About them…Considine and the others. Do you think they made it?”
    “No tellin’.”
    “Will they come this way?”
    “They’ll light out fast for Mexico. From what I hear tell, that Considine knows the desert like an Apache or a Pima.”
    “I liked him.”
    “You just forget him. You’ll likely never see him again, but if he comes gallivantin’ around you, I’ll kill him.”
    Spanyer turned in the saddle to look behind him, but the desert was empty…he saw no dust. Yet worry lay heavy upon him, and he could not ride easy. He kept twisting and turning, and he knew the symptoms—he only felt like this when he had the feeling of being watched.
    He could see nothing, but he knew they were in trouble now, and he did not need to see it. Those tracks were too fresh…trust an Indian to see them. So what to do?
    Dave Spanyer had no illusions about the situation. Once you had Apaches on your trail you were in trouble…all kinds of trouble. They would attack…they would probably try an ambush, to kill him. Yet they might not.
    Suppose Considine and his bunch had gotten away? They would be coming this way, and if he waited…But he decided against it. The chance of their escaping scot-free was too slight for him to rest any hopes on it. The best thing was to keep going…and it might be he could find a place where he could make a stand.
    “Pa…how did you meet my mother?”
    Preoccupied as he was with Apaches, the question startled him.
    “Oh…she came west with her husband, and he took a fever and died. Being around, I sort of stopped by, time to time, to see if she was making out.
    “Your Ma was a real lady…educated…she made me promise to see that you got some schooling.
    “I never did figure out what she saw in me. Them days I was younger, and maybe not so mean, but anyway I respected her more than anybody I ever knew. We had a good life, a good life.”
    His eyes had not ceased to move as he talked, nor had he missed anything. Now he said, very quietly, “Lennie, you slip that Winchester out of its scabbard. Easy now…and be ready for trouble.”
    “Are they Indians, Pa?”
    Her horse was a half-broken mustang, and the rattler was almost under its feet. At the sound of the rattle, the