Read Online Louis L'Amour by The Cherokee Trail - Free Book Online

rain-wet morning, she turned over in her mind and the men she had met.
    One and all, they seemed inwardly strong; each was responsible for himself. If one of them made a wrong step, he seemed willing to accept the blame, and nobody asked favors of another. Deliberately, intentionally, they were self-reliant.
    Later, when Boone came in from the stable, she mentioned it to him. “Ma’am? You ever notice a child? If he falls down and hurts himself, most times he won’t start to cry until he’s close to his mama. There’s no sense in crying if there’s nobody to listen. Out here, a man does for himself, or it ain’t done. You just don’t wait for somebody to do it for you. And there’s no sense in cryin’ or complainin’ because nobody has the time to listen.
    “If somebody is hurtin’, somebody will help and then go on about his business. They’ll help you cross a river, pull a wagon out of the mud, splint a broken leg, round up cattle, or whatever. They’ll
help
you, ma’am, but unless you’re down sick or somethin’, they won’t do it for you. Everybody saddles his own broncs out here.”
    “Mr. Boone? It is probably needless to warn you, but be careful. Be very careful. I recognized the man you called Williams. He was one of the guerrillas who raided my home during the war. While the North and the South were fighting, they were riding, looting, burning, and killing.”
    “Seems likely.”
    “My husband saw their leader out here. He started to accuse him, and the man shot him. He killed my husband, Mr. Boone. And my husband was a very good shot.”
    “Bein’ a good shot is one thing. Sometimes it simply ain’t enough. People who do their shootin’ out here don’t waste around.”
    “I know. I am afraid Marshall was not expecting it just that way. He was prepared to fight, but the other man just drew his gun and shot Marshall.”
    “I suspect. You know who that other man was?”
    “His name was Jason Flandrau.”
    Chapter 7
----
    T HERE WAS A long moment of silence. A stick fell in the stove, and Matty came in from the cottage. She looked across at them, then asked suddenly, “Mum? Is something wrong, then?”
    Temple Boone did not respond, but he put his cup down and leaned his forearms on the table. “Ma’am? Have you any idea why Jason Flandrau shot your husband?”
    “Perhaps because he expected Marshall to challenge him. Perhaps because he expected to be shot.”
    “Listen to me now,” Boone said, “and listen close. You’re a mighty smart woman, and nobody is goin’ to have to draw you pictures.
    “Jason Flandrau is callin’ himself ‘Colonel’ Jason Flandrau now, and he’s bein’ spoken of for governor. He’s livin’ down to Denver, an’ livin’ mighty high on the hog, if you know what I mean. He’s joined the church. He’s been singin’ in the choir, takin’ a big hand in all the public meetin’s.
    “The minute he seen your husband, he saw an end to all that, for once the story got out, he’d be finished. Folks might accept a former Confederate, although there’s considerable doubt of that, but nobody has any use for a guerrilla. They’d run him out of the country, maybe hang him. He claimed self-defense, ma’am, and he was surely tellin’ the truth. He had to kill your husband before he could talk, and he done it.”
    “I suppose you are right.”
    “Doesn’t that mean something else to you, ma’am?”
    “Of course, Mr. Boone. I see that he must kill me, too, as soon as he discovers I am here.”
    “You ever met him?”
    “No, I have not.”
    “No matter. Soon as he hears about you, he will know what he has to do, and he will hear. There’s already been a lot of talk up an’ down the line about you.”
    “About me?”
    “Ma’am, you’re a mighty beautiful woman, and beautiful women are scarce in this country right now. Sooner or later, he’s goin’ to hear about you and make the connection. As far as that goes, Williams will probably rush to