Read Online Westward the Tide (1950) by Louis L'amour - Free Book Online Page B

gunfighter and a killer. I refer to other stories, known to the military, and they do not reflect well upon you, sir.
    "Until now I had not mentioned those stories, nor did my son or daughter know of them, but under the circumstances, you leave me no other alternative than to mention them.
    "Now, sir, let me give you a warning: you are going with us. I, myself, spoke for you against the wishes of Colonel Pearson and Clive Massey. But I know from what the Colonel has told me that you are a rebel and a troublemaker. We will have no trouble caused by you on this trip! Understand that! If there is, no one man on the train will be called upon to face you! We have organized our own force to keep the peace on this wagon train, and in the town until it is settled and an election can be held. At the first sign of trouble from you, you will be summarily dealt with!"
    "Thank you, sir." Matt Bardoul's face was deathly white.
    He turned abruptly and started for the door, then with his hand on the knob, he turned his head. "I know nothing of the personnel of your police force, or who its leader may be, but I'll make a little bet that Clive Massey is the commander, and that he chose the men to enforce the law!"
    That time the remark got over. He saw Coyle's eyes narrow slightly with realization, and Matt knew he had been correct. He turned and walked outside, pulling the door shut after him.
    Buffalo asked him no questions, and they mounted up and started out of town, yet when he turned off the trail to Split Rock and went by a different route, they made no comment. Buffalo was riding with his rifle across his saddle bows.
    When he rolled out of his blankets at daybreak, the camp was already stirring. Fires were glowing over the bottomland where the wagons had gathered, and as he pulled on his boots he saw that Bill Shedd had a fire going.
    The big man grinned when he walked up. "Little coffee goes good on a chilly mornin'," he said. "But she'll be plenty hot after that sun gets up!" Bardoul nodded. "That's right. Did you refill those water barrels?"
    "Yep, sho' did. We got plenty of water. More'n enough, most ways, to last us three days."
    "We're liable to need it."
    Hardy and Buffalo came up and joined them, but there was little talk. He had said nothing about his warning to Coyle, but he knew they were quite aware of what he had done, and approved it. From his actions they probably deduced the result.
    Last gear was loaded into the wagons, and Murphy had already mounted the seat when Matt looked around to see a tall young man, very slender, approaching him. The fellow had blond hair that needed cutting, and a shy face. "Mr. Bardoul?" he asked. "Could you use another driver? I know you have one, and you probably want to drive your other wagon yourself, but I thought, maybe you ... besides," he added suddenly, "I'd drive it for nothing! I ... just want to be along. I want to go with the train."
    "Did you talk to Brian Coyle?"
    "No, I didn't. I talked with the other man ... the tall one. The Army man."
    "What did he say?"
    "He said I couldn't come unless I had a wagon." That decided Matt. "Can you handle an ox team?"
    The boy's eyes brightened. "Yes, sir. I certainly can! Oxen or mules, it doesn't make any difference! I can keep your wagon in good shape, too!"
    "All right! Mount up!"
    He walked back to his horse and climbed into the saddle. From far ahead came the long, familiar call, "Ro-l-l-l-l 'em over!"
    Whips cracked, and his wagon started. From the back of the zebra dun, he watched the wagons roll out and form up in four parallel columns, each almost a half mile long.
    Gray dawn was lifting behind them, and he watched the oxen move out, a step, and then another step, in a slow, swaying, rhythmical movement, the covered wagons rumbling behind. Long grass waved in the light breeze, and far ahead, skylined on a hill top, Colonel Orvis Pearson lifted his hand theatrically, and motioned them on.
    For better or worse, they had started. Now