the Daybreakers (1960) (11 page)

There was a man in town with gear to sell, and figuring on buying an extra pistol, I went to see him. The gun I bought, and some boxes of shells, but when I saw some books in his wagon I bought them without looking.

"You don't want to know what they are?"

"Mister, I don't see that's your business, but the fact is, I wouldn't know one from the other. I figured if I studied out those books I'd learn. I'd work it out."

He had the look of a man who knew about writing and printing. "These aren't the books I'd recommend for a beginner, but you may get something out of them."

He sold me six books and I took them away.

Night after night I sat by the campfire plugging away at those books, and Tom Sunday sure helped a lot in telling me what words were about. First off, I got a surprise by learning that a man could learn something about his own way of living from a book. This book by an Army man, Captain Randolph Marcy, was written for a guide to parties traveling west by wagon. He told a lot of things I knew, and a good many I didn't.

Cap Rountree made out like he was sour about the books. "Need an extry pack horse for all that printed truck. First time I ever heard of a man packin' books on the trail."

Chapter
IX

Santa Fe lay lazy in the sun when we rode into town. Nothing seemed to have changed, yet there was a feeling of change in me. And Drusilla was here, and this time I would call at her home. I'd never called on a girl before.

My letter from Drusilla was my own secret and I had no idea of telling anyone about it. Not even Orrin. When Drusilla wrote I didn't answer because I couldn't write and if I'd traced the letters out--well, it didn't seem right that a man should be writing like a child.

First off when we got to Santa Fe I wanted to see Drusilla, so I went about getting my broadcloth suit brushed and pressed out. It was late afternoon when I rode to the ranch. Miguel was loafing at the gate with a rifle across his knees.

"Senor! It is good to see you! Every day the senorita has asked me if I have seen you!"

"Is she in?"

"Senor, it is good that you are back. Good for them, and good for us too." He indicated the door. The house surrounded a patio, and stood itself within an adobe wall fifteen feet high. There was a walk ran around the inside near the top of the wall, and there were firing positions for at least thirty men on that wall.

Don Luis sat working at a desk. He arose. "Good afternoon, senor. It is good to see you. Was your venture a success?"

So I sat down and told him of our trip. A few of the cattle had carried his brand and we had kept the money for him and this I now paid.

"There is much trouble here," Don Luis said. "I fear it is only the beginning."

It seemed to me he had aged a lot in the short time since I'd last seen him.

Suddenly, I realized how much I liked that stern, stiff old man with his white mustache.

Sitting back in his chair, he told me how Pritts' men made their first move.

Forty in the group had moved on some flat land well within the Grant and had staked claims there, then they had dug in for a fight. Knowing the manner of men he faced, Don Luis held back his vaqueros.

"There are, senor, many ways to victory, and not all of them through violence.

And if there was a pitched battle, some of my men would be hurt. This I wished to avoid."

The invaders were watched, and it was noted when Pritts and Fetterson returned to Santa Fe on business that several bottles appeared and by midnight half the camp was drunk. Don Luis was close by, but he held back his vaqueros who were eager for a fight.

By three in the morning when all were in a drunken sleep, Don Luis' vaqueros moved in swiftly. The invaders were tied to their horses and started back down the road toward Santa Fe. Their tents and equipment were burned or confiscated, their weapons unloaded and returned to them. They were well down the trail when several riders returning from Mora engaged in a running gun battle with the vaqueros. Four of the invaders were killed, several wounded. Don Luis had two men wounded, none seriously.

"The advantage was ours," Don Luis explained, "but Jonathan Pritts is a very shrewd man and he is making friends, nor is he a man to suffer defeat without retaliation. It is difficult," he added, "to carry out a project with the sort of men he uses. They are toughs and evil men."

"Don Luis," I said, "have I your permission to see Miss Drusilla?"

He arose. "Of course, senor. I fear if the privilege were denied that I should have another war, and one which I am much less suited to handle.

"We in New Mexico," he added, "have been closer to your people than our own. It is far to Mexico City, so our trade has been with you, our customs affected by yours. My family would disapprove of our ways, but on the frontier there is small time for formality."

Standing in the living room of the lovely old Spanish home, I felt stiff in my new clothes. Abilene had given me time to get used to them, but the awkwardness returned now that I was to see Drusilla again. I could hear the click of her heels on the stone flags, and turned to face the door, my heart pounding, my mouth suddenly so dry I could scarcely swallow.

She paused in the doorway, looking at me. She was taller than I had remembered, and her eyes were larger. She was beautiful, too beautiful for a man like me.

"I thought you had forgotten us," she said, "you didn't answer my letter."

I shifted my hat in my hands. "It looked like I'd get here as fast as the letter, and I'm not much hand at writing."

An Indian woman came in with some coffee and some little cakes and we both sat down. Drusilla sat very erect in her chair, her hands in her lap, and I decided she was almost as embarrassed as I was.

"Ma'am, I never called on a girl before. I guess I'm almighty awkward."

Suddenly, she giggled. "And I never received a young man before," she said.

After that we didn't have much trouble. We both relaxed and I told her about our trip, about founding up wild cattle and my fight with the Indians.

"You must be very brave."

Well, now. I liked her thinking that about me but fact is, I hadn't thought of much out there but keeping my head and tail down so's not to get shot, and I recalled being in something of a sweat to get out of there.

I've nothing against a man being scared as long as he does what has to be done ... being scared can keep a man from getting killed and often makes a better fighter of him.

We sat there in that cool, spacious room with its dark, massive furniture and tiled floors and I can tell you it was a wonderful friendly feeling. I'd never known a house like that before, and it seemed very grand and very rich.

Dru was worried about her grandfather. "He's getting old, Tyrel, and I'm afraid for him. He doesn't sleep well, and sometimes he paces the floor all night long."

Torres was waiting for me when I went to get my horse almost an hour later.

"Senor," he said carefully, "Don Luis likes you and so does the senorita. Our people, they like you too."

He studied me searchingly. "Senor Pritts hates us, and he is winning friends among your people. He spends much money. I believe he would take everything from us."

"Not while I'm alive."

"We need a sheriff in this country, a man who will see justice done." He looked at me. "We ask only for justice."

"What you say is true. We do need a sheriff."

"The don grows old, and he does not know what to do, but all my life I have been with him, senor, and I do not think that to fight is enough. We must do something else, as your people would. There are, senor, still more Mexicans than Anglos. Perhaps if there was an election. ..."

"A Mexican sheriff would not be good, Juan. The Americans would not be willing to recognize him. Not those who follow Pritts."

"This I know, senor. We will talk of this again."

When I walked into the La Fonda that night Ollie Shaddock was standing at the bar having a drink. He was a broad man with a shock of blond hair and a broad, cheerful face.

"Have a drink," he said, "I resigned my sheriffing job to bring your Ma and the boys west."

"You brought Ma?"

"Sure enough. Orrin's with her now."

He filled my glass from the bottle. "Don't you be thinkin' of me as sheriff. You done right in killin' Long. I'd have had to arrest you but the law would have freed you. He had a gun pointed when you killed him."

We didn't say anything more about it. It was good to have Ollie Shaddock out here, and I owed him a debt for bringing Ma. I wanted to see her the worst way but Ollie had something on his mind.

"Folks talk you up pretty high," he said.

"It's Orrin they like."

"You know something, Tyrel? I've been giving some thought to Orrin since I got here. He's a man should run for office."

It seemed a lot of folks had running for office on their minds, but this was a new country and in need of law. "He's got it in mind," I said.

"I've been in politics all my years. I was a deputy sheriff at seventeen, sheriff at nineteen, justice of the peace at twenty-four and served a term in the state legislature before I was thirty. Then I was sheriff again."

"I know it."

"Orrin looks to me like a man who could get out the vote. Folks take to him. He talks well, and with a mite more reading he could make something of himself, if we managed it right."

"We?"

"Politics ain't much different, Tyrel, than one of these icebergs you hear tell of. Most of what goes on is beneath the surface. It doesn't make any difference how good a man is, or how good his ideas are, or even how honest he is unless he can put across a program, and that's politics.

"Statesmanship is about ten percent good ideas and motives and ninety percent getting backing for your program. Now I figure I know how to get a man elected, and Orrin's our man. Also, you can be a big advantage to him."

"Folks don't take to me."

"Now that's as may be. I find most of the Mexicans like you. They all know you and Orrin turned Pritts down when he invited you to join him, and the vaqueros from the Alvarado ranch have been talking real friendly about you."

He chuckled. "Seems the women like you too. They tell me you provided more entertainment in one afternoon than they had in years."

"Now, look--!" I could feel myself getting red around the ears.

"Don't let it bother you. Folks enjoyed it, and they like you. Don't ask me why."

"You seem to have learned a lot since you've been here."

"Every man to his job, mine's politics. First thing is to listen. Learn the issues, the personalities, where the votes are, where the hard feelings are."

Ollie Shaddock tasted his whiskey and put the glass back on the bar. "Tyrel, there's trouble brewing and it will come from that Pritts outfit. That's a rough bunch of boys and they'll get to drinking and there'll be a killing. Chances are, it will be a riot or something like that."

"So?"

"So we got to go up there. You and me and Orrin. When that trouble comes Orrin has to handle it."

"He's no officer."

"Leave that to me. When it happens, folks will want somebody to take over the responsibility. So Orrin steps in."

He tossed off his whiskey. "Look ... Pritts wants Torres killed, some of the other key men. When the shooting starts some of those fur thieves and rustlers he's got will go too far.

"Orrin steps in. He's Anglo, so all the better Americans will be for him. You convince the Mexicans Orrin is their man. Then we get Orrin appointed marshal, run him for sheriff, start planning for the legislature."

Ollie made a lot of sense, and it beat all how quickly he had got hold of the situation, and him here only a few weeks. Orrin was the man for it all right. Or Tom Sunday.

"What about Tom Sunday?"

"He figures he's the man for the job. But Tom Sunday can't talk to folks like Orrin can. He can't get down and be friends with everybody the way Orrin can.

Orrin just plain likes people and they feel it ... like you like Mexicans and they know it. Anyway," he added, "Orrin is one of ours and one thing about Orrin. We don't have to lie."

"Would you lie?"

Ollie was embarrassed. "Tyrel, politics is politics, and in politics a man wants to win. So he hedges a little."

"Whatever we do has to be honest," I said. "Look, I'm no pilgrim. But there's nothing in this world I can't get without lying or cheating. Ma raised us boys that way, and I'm glad of it."

"All right, honesty is a good policy and if a man's honest it gets around. What do you think about Orrin?"

"I think he's the right man."

Only as I left there and started to see Ma, I was thinking about Tom Sunday. Tom was our friend, and Tom wasn't going to like this. He was a mite jealous of Orrin. Tom had the best education but folks just paid more mind to Orrin.

Ma had aged ... she was setting in her old rocker which Ollie had brought west in his wagon, and she had that old shawl over her knees. When I walked in she was puffing on that old pipe and she looked me up and down mighty sharp.