Read Online Rivers West by Louis L’Amour - Free Book Online

Berwick and take the road down the coast to Boston town.
    Jambe-de-Bois and I stayed in the rear, leaving Miss Majoribanks free of our company. She had paid off readily enough, and so had Kimball, the portly horse dealer, although he paid off with a sour expression and bad grace.
    â€œLucky for you that Purdy is dead,” he told me. “He would have killed you.”
    â€œHe might have. But he didn’t kill Macklem, did he?”
    Kimball knew nothing of Macklem, but Macklem was much on my mind. Jambe-de-Bois had warned me of him, but I had expected nothing like this. A man who could defeat and kill such a man as Purdy was someone to beware of. Well, our paths had parted. Nor had I regrets.
    Tate dropped back as we neared Somersworth. “You will be going the same way as Miss Majoribanks,” he suggested. “Macaire is a good man, but that other fellow…he doesn’t measure up. Though he believes he does, and she believes him.”
    â€œIt’s none of my affair. I shall go to Pittsburgh. What they do is their own trouble.”
    â€œBut you could keep an eye on them, could you not? She’s very young, John Daniel, with much to learn, but she’s also bold and fearless. She knows nothing of the world save from her reading. She rides daringly in it only because she has always been protected.
    â€œIf aught should happen to Macaire, I fear for her. She’s like one of my own, John Daniel, and I’ve known her since childhood.”
    â€œShe will have none of me. Anyway, I’m simply an artisan. I’m not a landed man—”
    He glanced at me, sharply, I thought. “No? I have it on good authority that if you lived in France and had your just dues, you’d be at least a count…and a man of substance.”
    â€œNow who has been telling you that?” I was exasperated. “I am a simple workman. A man good with tools, and nothing more.”
    â€œHave it your own way. But you will be going where she is going…at least as far as Pittsburgh. If you can help her, please do so.”
    â€œAll right,” I agreed, not grudgingly.
    He left us shortly after and took the coast road to Portsmouth and thence to Boston.
    We, on the other hand, started south toward Haverhill, to then turn westward toward the Connecticut River. Our party was now five people. In Haverhill Miss Majoribanks expected to be joined by a companion, a lady whom she had previously known and with whom she had corresponded when she first began her plans to go west and search for her brother.
    Jambe-de-Bois and I brought up the rear, riding some three horse lengths behind them and keeping our distance.
    In Berwick there was much talk of the recent fight between Sam Purdy, who had been well known in the area, and the stranger, Macklem. Too late, the law had considered arresting Macklem, at least for an inquiry, but he had departed the town, and nobody saw fit to pursue either him or the issue. Everyone seemed more than pleased that Purdy was out of the way with no harm done to local people.
    A hostler shook his head. “Lad, I never hope to see such a thing again. I never liked Purdy. He was a rough, violent man, given to brutality, and no one was ever at ease when he was about. But the way of it!
    â€œOh, believe me! It was the fault of Purdy! He was ugly and looking for trouble. I think he’d had a drink or two, and this stranger was too neat, too upstanding for his taste.
    â€œPurdy started the trouble but…well, the manner of it. The stranger
destroyed
him. Literally, sir. Macklem destroyed him. You never saw anything like it. It was steady, deliberate, and efficient, almost without effort.
    â€œNo panting, no struggle, no cursing. He simply demolished Purdy. He must have struck him a dozen times, and a bone broken for each strike. Sometimes with fists, often with only the edge of the hand. But he wiped him out.
    â€œPurdy was no coward. With a broken shoulder,