Law of the Desert Born by L'Amour Louis

Author:L'Amour, Louis [L'Amour, Louis]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2003-12-29T16:00:00+00:00

* * *

MATT SABRE WATCHED the saddled horses. He had that quality of patience so long associated with the Indian. He knew how to wait and how to relax. He waited now, letting all his muscles rest. With all his old alertness for danger—his sixth sense that warned him of climaxes—he knew this situation had reached the explosion point.

The marshal would be returning. Reed and Trumbull would be sure that he did not encounter the posse. And that body of riders, most of whom were henchmen or cronies of Galusha Reed, would sweep down on the Pivotrock and capture it, killing all who were there under the pretense of searching for Matt Sabre.

Keys would warn them, and in time. Once they knew of the danger, Camp Gordon and the others would be wise enough to take the necessary precautions. The marshal was one tentacle, but there in Yellowjacket was the heart of the trouble.

If Prince McCarran and Tony Sikes were removed, the tentacles would shrivel and die. Despite the danger out at Pivotrock, high behind the Mogollon Rim, the decisive blow must be struck right here in Yellowjacket.

He rolled over on his stomach and lifted the glasses. Men were coming from the Yellowjacket Saloon and mounting up. Lying at his ease, he watched them go. There were at least thirty, possibly more. When they had gone, he got to his feet and brushed off his clothes. Then he walked slowly down to his horse and mounted.

He rode quietly, one hand lying on his thigh, his eyes alert, his brain relaxed and ready for impressions.

Marshal Rafe Collins was a just man. He was a frontiersman, a man who knew the West and the men it bred. He was no fool—shrewd and careful, rigid in his enforcement of the law, yet wise in the ways of men. Moreover, he was southern in the oldest of southern traditions, and being so, he understood what Matt Sabre meant when he said it was because he had killed her husband that he must protect Jenny Curtin.

Matt Sabre left his horse at the livery stable. Simpson looked up sharply when he saw him.

“You better watch yourself,” he warned. “The whole country’s after you, an’ they are huntin’ blood!”

“I know. What about Sikes? Is he in town?”

“Sure! He never leaves McCarran.” Simpson searched his face. “Sikes is no man to tangle with, Sabre. He’s chain lightnin’.”

“I know.” Sabre watched his horse led into a shadowed stall. Then he turned to Simpson. “You’ve been friendly, Simpson. I like that. After today, there’s goin’ to be a new order of things around here, but today I could use some help. What do you know about the Pivotrock deal?”

The man hesitated, chewing slowly. Finally, he spat and looked up. “There was nobody to tell until now,” he said, “but two things I know. That grant was Curtin’s, all right, an’ he wasn’t killed by accident. He was murdered.”

“Murdered?”

“Yeah.” Simpson’s expression was wry. “Like you he liked fancy drinkin’ liquor when he could get it.

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