Free Novel 1956 - Silver Canyon (v5.0) by Louis L’Amour Page B

and I liked him for that. Fighting is a cool-headed business.
    Rolling a smoke, I watched that dust. It could mean anything or nothing.
    No man likes to stand against odds, yet sometimes it is the only way. No man likes to face a greater power than himself, and especially when there are always the coattail hangers who will render lip service to anyone who seems to be top dog.
    It brings a bitterness to a man, and especially when he is right.
    Yet this morning I’d no need for worry. The rider came into view, coming at an easy lope. And it was Moira Maclaren.
    We had worked all that morning clearing ground for the new house I was to build. Moira drew up and her eyes went to the cleared space and the rocks we’d hauled on a stone boat for the foundation.
    The house would stand on a hill with the long sweep of Cottonwood Wash before it, shaded by several huge cottonwoods and a sycamore or two.
    â€œYou must be careful. I think you had a visitor last night,” she said.
    â€œA visitor?”
    â€œMorgan Park came over this way.”
    So he had been around, had he? And devilishly quiet or we would have heard him. It was a thing to be remembered, and Moira was right. We must be more careful.
    â€œHe’s a puzzling man, Moira. Who is he?”
    â€œHe doesn’t talk much about the past. I know he’s been in Philadelphia and New York. And he takes trips to Salt Lake or San Francisco occasionally.”
    She swung down and looked around, seeing the barricade.
    â€œWere the boys hurt?” I asked her.
    â€œNo…but they had a lot to say about you using dynamite.” She looked up at me. “Would you have minded if you had hurt them?”
    â€œWho wants to hurt anybody? All I wanted was to get them out of here. Only, that Pinder crowd…I’d not be fussy in their case.”
    We stood together near her horse, enjoying the warm sun, and looking down the Wash over the green grass where the cattle fed.
    â€œIt’s a nice view.”
    â€œYou’ll see it many times, from the house.”
    She looked around at me. “You really believe that, don’t you?”
    Before I could reply, she said thoughtfully, “You asked about Morgan Park. Be careful, Matt. I think he is utterly without scruples.”
    There was more to come, and I waited. There was something about Morgan Park that bothered me. He was a handsome man as well as a strong one, and a man who might well appeal to women, yet from her manner I was beginning to believe that Moira had sensed about him the same thing I had.
    â€œThere was a young man, Arnold D’Arcy, out here from the east,” she said, “and I liked him. Knowing Morgan, I didn’t mention him when Morgan was around. Then one night he commented on him, and suggested it would be better for all concerned if the young man did not come back.”
    She turned around and looked up at me. “Matt, when Morgan found out Arnold’s name he was frightened.”
    â€œFrightened?
Morgan?
”
    â€œYes…and Arnold wasn’t a big man, or by any means dangerous. But Morgan began to ask questions. What was D’Arcy doing here? Had he been asking questions about anybody? Or mentioned looking for anyone?”
    It was a thing to think of. Why would a man like Morgan Park be frightened? Not of physical danger…the man obviously believed himself invulnerable. There must be something else.
    â€œDid you tell D’Arcy about it?”
    â€œNo.” There was a shadow of worry on her face. “Matt, I never saw him again.”
    I looked at her quickly. “You mean, he never came back?”
    â€œNever. And he didn’t write.”
    We walked down the Wash, talking of the ranch and of my plans. It was a quiet, pleasant hour, and a rare thing for me, who had known few quiet hours since coming to Hattan’s Point, and who could expect few until this was settled and I was accepted as the owner of the Two-Bar,