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That
daybook must have worried him."
"We've got to find that camp. That may be the last lead we get."
We sat around the fire talking it over, drinking coffee, keeping our ears in
tune with the night. I was restless, ready to move on. A lot of men had
looked
for gold here and not found it, and I did not wish to become another of them.
Nor did Orrin.
In the morning we would take the route to Windy Pass.
At first Nell would have none of it, but we argued there was gold closer to
where her pa was. I think we all turned in figuring that tomorrow would tell
us
the end of the story of pa's disappearance.
None of us wanted a fight with Andre and them. Well, I'll have to back up on
that. Fact was, I'd not mind so much, only that it would profit nobody. I had
an
itch to tangle especially with Swan. There's something gets up in my craw
when I
come up against a bully, and Hippo Swan was that.
There was nothing to be gained by fighting them, and I was ready to ride off
and
leave them be. Just the same, I felt one of the true pleasures of life would
be
to plant a fist in Hippo's face. But I was prepared to deny myself that
pleasure.
Some things just don't shape up the way a man hopes for.
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Come morning we packed our gear, and we helped Nell get straightened around,
and
then we headed for Windy Pass as our first stop on the way west to Shalako.
Looking back with regret, I saw that little mountain valley disappear behind
us.
It was a place we'd stopped at for only a few days, but I'd come to love
it the
beaver ponds, the distant sound of Silver Falls, the cold, sparkling waters
of
the East Fork.
There was an easier trail down the East Fork to the main valley, but we were
wishful of scouting around the pass, so we went up the mountain. It was just
a
mite over two miles to Windy Pass.
We found signs of several old fires up yonder, but nothing more to tell us
anything about pa. He'd been there, but so had others.
Orrin pulled up quick, just as we started out. "I thought I heard a shot," he
said. I'd heard nothing, but Judas believed he had, too.
We rode out on the trail to the valley and turned south. To really appreciate
the valley of the West Fork of the San Juan you've got to see it from north
of
where we were, up yonder where the Wolf Creek Pass trail takes a big swing
and
starts down the mountain. There's a place there that's a thousand feet above
the
valley floor. You can see right down the length of the valley and there isn't
a
prettier sight under heaven.
We turned into the trail and started along, moving at a good pace. We had
Nell
with us, and, like I've said, we weren't shaping up for no fight. None of us
liked Andre. We figured him for a murdering so-and-so, but we weren't elected
by
the good Lord to put out his light ... not so far as we knew. I surely wasn't
going to hunt him, but if he happened to come up in my sights, it would be a
mighty temptation.
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It was a beautiful morning, a morning to ride and feel, and we all felt the
same
about that. None of us were much given to talk, although Orrin could sing. He
sang while we rode "Tenting Tonight on the Old Camp-Ground," "Black, Black,
Black," and "Barbry Alien." I was wishful of joining him when he sang
"Brennan
on the Moor," but there was no use to wake the coyotes or disturb the peace
of
Jacob, the mule. Only time I sing is when I am alone on a sleepy horse.
There's
limits to everything.
Meanwhile, we rode wary for pa's camp. A lot of time had gone by, but there
was
a chance we could find something.
The way we figured it now, somebody had returned to murder Pierre and pa.
Andre and Swan? Or Pettigrew?
I couldn't get Nativity Pettigrew out of my mind. He was a sly man, a
murderous
man possibly, but he'd had the daybook, and the only way he could have gotten
that daybook would have been to follow pa and Pierre.
Pettigrew had gold on his mind, and mayhap he had found it, and was wishful
of
keeping it. He would have to be mighty shy of how he brought it down off that
mountain. A lot of people wish to find treasure, but few of them realize how
hard it is to handle after you've got it.
How do you bring a million dollars in gold down off a mountain? Mules, you
say?
You've got to get mules or horses, and that starts people wondering what you
want them for. And you may need help, but help can be greedy, often as
murderous
as you.
I tell you, gold is easier found than kept.
CHAPTER XVIII
Neb scouted ahead for us, and that was a canny dog. He was big enough to be
kin
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to a grizzly and had a nose like an Arkansas coonhound.
We rode scattered out, not talking, wary for traps because this was Indian
country, but wary for those coming down behind us, too. Pa's travois would
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