Read Online Matagorda (1967) by Louis L'amour - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Louis L'amour
Ads: Link
solitary, and when not alone he kept close to those who had been with him from the beginning. The bitterness of the feud was upon him, the memory of good men dead, of his burned-out home, of the graves of his family. Nor could Tap blame him. In Tom's place, he too would have fought. But he was not in Tom's place.
His future lay in that herd of cattle they were to gather, his future and perhaps that of Jessica. He wanted to return to her without empty hands, and if he could not return that way, he made up his mind suddenly, he would not go back at all.
He was too proud to accept a position from her family, or from friends of either his family or hers. His father and grandfather had walked proudly, had made their own way, and so would he make his. He could return to the service, but he knew what it meant- fighting Indians or living out a dull existence on some small post on the frontier.
With the few men they had, they could not hope to make anything like a clean sweep.
They could only do their best, then move the herd; with luck they would get out without a fight. He was not at all as hopeful of that as he had sounded at the campfire.
Finally he slept. In the night he stirred restlessly, the sea in his bones responding to something on the wind, some faint whisper from out over the wastes of the ocean.
Something was happening out there, something he knew by his instincts. Several times he muttered in his sleep, and when he awakened he was not refreshed.
The Cajun was at the fire. Did the man never sleep at all? He looked up at Duvarney and, taking his cup from his hand, filled it from the coffeepot.
Brooding, the Cajun sipped at his coffee. Presently he glanced around at Duvarney.
He nodded to indicate a huge log that lay over against the edge of the clearing.
It was an old log measuring at least four feet through, and was perhaps sixty feet in length.
"He big tree . . . grow far off."
Tap Duvarney looked at the log. It certainly was larger than anything he had seen along the Gulf Coast, although there might be something as big in the piney woods to the north.
"How did it get here?"
The Cajun jerked his head toward the Gulf. "Storm. Big storm bring him on the sea."
Tap looked at the log again. They were at least five miles from the Gulf Coast. To come here by sea, that log would have to cross Matagorda Island and then be Carried this far inland.
"Have you seen the sea come this far in?"
"One time I see. My papa see, also. One time there was a ship back there." He turned and pointed still further inland. "Very old ship. It was there before my grandpa."
The Cajun relapsed into silence over his coffee. There was no light in the sky, but a glance at his watch showed Duvarney that the hour was four in the morning. When he had finished his coffee he went out and caught up his horse, then bridled and saddled him.
Standing beside the horse, he thought over the plans he had made. There was much about them he did not like, but he could see no alternative that would improve the situation.
The night coolness had gone. The air was still, and it was growing warmer. He led his horse back and tied him to a tree not far from the fire.
He accepted a plate of beef and beans from the Cajun, and ate while the others crawled sleepily from their beds. It was going to be a long, hard day.
There is no creature on the face of the earth more contrary than the common cow.
Not so difficult as a mule, not so mean or vicious as a camel, the cow beast can nevertheless exhaust the patience of a Job.
Duvarney and his men started on the island, and contrary to his announced intention, they did not drive south, but north.
It was not until they reached the island that Tap pulled up and hooked a leg around the saddle-horn. He pushed his hat back and got a small cigar from his pocket. "We're going to do a little different from what I said." He paused to strike a match. "We're going to drive the cattle north, cross from the tip of the island
His future lay in that herd of cattle they were to gather, his future and perhaps that of Jessica. He wanted to return to her without empty hands, and if he could not return that way, he made up his mind suddenly, he would not go back at all.
He was too proud to accept a position from her family, or from friends of either his family or hers. His father and grandfather had walked proudly, had made their own way, and so would he make his. He could return to the service, but he knew what it meant- fighting Indians or living out a dull existence on some small post on the frontier.
With the few men they had, they could not hope to make anything like a clean sweep.
They could only do their best, then move the herd; with luck they would get out without a fight. He was not at all as hopeful of that as he had sounded at the campfire.
Finally he slept. In the night he stirred restlessly, the sea in his bones responding to something on the wind, some faint whisper from out over the wastes of the ocean.
Something was happening out there, something he knew by his instincts. Several times he muttered in his sleep, and when he awakened he was not refreshed.
The Cajun was at the fire. Did the man never sleep at all? He looked up at Duvarney and, taking his cup from his hand, filled it from the coffeepot.
Brooding, the Cajun sipped at his coffee. Presently he glanced around at Duvarney.
He nodded to indicate a huge log that lay over against the edge of the clearing.
It was an old log measuring at least four feet through, and was perhaps sixty feet in length.
"He big tree . . . grow far off."
Tap Duvarney looked at the log. It certainly was larger than anything he had seen along the Gulf Coast, although there might be something as big in the piney woods to the north.
"How did it get here?"
The Cajun jerked his head toward the Gulf. "Storm. Big storm bring him on the sea."
Tap looked at the log again. They were at least five miles from the Gulf Coast. To come here by sea, that log would have to cross Matagorda Island and then be Carried this far inland.
"Have you seen the sea come this far in?"
"One time I see. My papa see, also. One time there was a ship back there." He turned and pointed still further inland. "Very old ship. It was there before my grandpa."
The Cajun relapsed into silence over his coffee. There was no light in the sky, but a glance at his watch showed Duvarney that the hour was four in the morning. When he had finished his coffee he went out and caught up his horse, then bridled and saddled him.
Standing beside the horse, he thought over the plans he had made. There was much about them he did not like, but he could see no alternative that would improve the situation.
The night coolness had gone. The air was still, and it was growing warmer. He led his horse back and tied him to a tree not far from the fire.
He accepted a plate of beef and beans from the Cajun, and ate while the others crawled sleepily from their beds. It was going to be a long, hard day.
There is no creature on the face of the earth more contrary than the common cow.
Not so difficult as a mule, not so mean or vicious as a camel, the cow beast can nevertheless exhaust the patience of a Job.
Duvarney and his men started on the island, and contrary to his announced intention, they did not drive south, but north.
It was not until they reached the island that Tap pulled up and hooked a leg around the saddle-horn. He pushed his hat back and got a small cigar from his pocket. "We're going to do a little different from what I said." He paused to strike a match. "We're going to drive the cattle north, cross from the tip of the island
Similar Books
