PULLING TO A stop, the newcomers sat silent, a hostility as cold as winter wind emanating from them. The bearded leader favored Montana with a glance which held no particular interest, but his eyes kept straying toward Miss Denny.
He was powerfully built and heavily fleshed. In him was the careless arrogance of a grizzly bear. Hair of a hue so light that any tendency toward graying would go almost unnoticed hung shaggily below his ears. A high-arched, fleshy nose under brows like humped caterpillars lent a predatory appearance.
Something stirred in Montana’s mind, a faint wind of memory which he could not quite place. Still elusive, it strengthened at the rasping quality of the voice.
“We gave you folks a deadline … or a choice! Since you didn’t meet the one, I presume you’ve decided on the other.” His eyes swung back to Denise, a sudden flare of desire in them. “I’m always willing to be reasonable, of course.”
Her face had gone bloodless with unmistakable apprehension. But it was Dan Evers who threw back an answer, a matching anger rumbling in his tones. Like the badger he so resembled, he was not one to back away from a fight.
“I don’t know what your notion of reasonable adds up to—though it seems to be treachery and murder. Any outfit has a right to pass through a country. We’re still here because we’ve been delayed.”
“I was hoping for a better answer.” The voice was softer, almost persuasive, akin to the purr of a puma. “I’ve no patience with excuses.”
“We’re not making excuses. We’re still here because Miss Webb came right close to drowning because of somebody’s treachery … murderous treachery!”
A startled interest glowed in the big man’s eyes. “Drowned?” he repeated. “Treachery?”
“Just that. And don’t try to pretend that canoe wasn’t slashed by one of your own crew!”
The surprise and shock in the face of Yazoo was too real for pretense. Nor did he attempt a denial. Clearly, something had gone wrong, not as he had intended. His hands gripped his saddle-horn, holding fast to the bridle reins, clinging so tightly that the skin showed white.
“I don’t know what’s happened, but if what you say is so, there’s been a mistake somewhere. Believe me, ma’am, Miss Denise, the last thing I’d ever think of would be to hurt you. Your herd’s trespassing and has nowhere to go, but the offer I made yesterday still stands. And what have you got to lose by marrying me? You get grass and solve your problems, and I’ve got ten cattle for every one of yours. As my wife, you’ll be mistress of as fine a spread as is to be found anywhere—”
He broke off at the look in Miss Denny’s eyes. Her face was still drained, and there was more than distaste or repugnance in the almost terrified gaze which she bent upon him. Her voice was a broken cry of protest.
“But you can’t want to marry me. You’ve hardly seen me; you don’t know me—”
“Seems like I’ve known you all my life, and wanted you!” His tone was suddenly angry, as though he hated the necessity of saying such things in public. That he was very much in earnest was not to be doubted. “Can you think of a better way out?”
“Can you think for one moment that I would marry the man who murdered my brother?” Denise flashed back. “What do you take me for?”
There was more there than showed on the surface, though Montana was at a loss to understand. The boss of Yazoo recoiled; then his face hardened.
“I didn’t kill your brother … but mistakes happen. He went looking for trouble, and found it. And there’s this intrudin’ herd—”
Montana had his answer. He cut in sharply. “Intrusions into another’s territory happen, Major, on the range as well as in war. Being here, we admit the trespass. But Miss Webb finds herself in a fix, and need I remind you that she is not only a woman but also a lady? The suit for a lady’s hand should be pressed in gentler fashion, not demandingly. Since you were an officer of the Confederacy, I’m assuming that you uphold the chivalry of a Southern gentleman.”
Everyone’s attention was fixed on him, Denise’s strained, Yazoo’s one of startled deliberation.
“You seem to have the advantage of me, suh. Are you trying to say that you know me?”
“Very well, sir. You served under General Bragg. That was quite a while ago, and a long way from Oregon. But as a fellow officer, need I remind you that chivalry; to say nothing of consideration for a woman to whom one makes the offer of marriage knows no boundaries?”
A hooded quality, like a hawk’s, veiled suddenly glaring eyes. Disconcerted, Yazoo was momentarily at a loss. Montana had carefully refrained from voicing his name, but Big George, leaning forward in the sudden grip of excitement, blurted it out.
“Sho ’nuff, Cap’n, I knew him too! He’s Major Sills!”
A gasp from Miss Denny broke the silence as she leaned closer, staring, her face even paler than before. Sills flashed her a single glance, but only one. His bluster was gone, but the quietness which succeeded was doubly sinister.
Each man understood now with whom he was dealing. Montana’s memory had not played him false. During the years of war, Sills had gone close-shaven, in a gray uniform. Now his attire was that of a ranchman, and the heavy full beard was a mask and effective disguise. It was scarcely guesswork on Abbott’s part that when a man placed the width of a continent between himself and his past, adopting a new name, the reasons would be compelling.
Big George had a secondary reaction as well. He did not clap a hand belatedly to his mouth, but he came as near to pallor as the hue of his skin permitted.
Sills regarded him a moment with smoldering eyes, which lightened with pleased recognition. Then, as he turned back to Montana, his voice again was mild and courteous.
“I’m afraid you have the advantage of me, suh. I can’t quite place you, though I’m sure I’ve seen you before.”
“You are right. We did meet briefly, Major. In those days I was Captain William Abbott.”
“And now?”
“I’m still Bill Abbott—though mostly I’m called Montana.”
That Sills had heard of Montana Abbott was clear. There were times when his reputation was helpful, though at others it was somewhat of a liability. Sills held to the main theme.
“So? And your interest in this situation, Captain?”
“I’m working with these folks, with Miss Webb.”
“Then perhaps we can settle matters amicably, as former fellows of a glorious if lost cause.” His tone remained silky. “You are right as regards the private and personal affairs of Miss Webb and myself. Another time and place will be more appropriate for that. And as proof of my chivalry, I am willing to strike a different bargain in regard to the existing situation.
“Fortuitously enough, as it chances, you have my former slave, who escaped from my plantation along the Yazoo a short while before I rode away to the war. I’ve never ceased looking for him or hoping to find him. In exchange for his worthless carcass, I’ll overlook the trespass of this herd and grant you free passage beyond my range.”
Denise cried out sharply, her face pale with strain, “No!”
Big George had the look of a trapped creature. Sweat glistened on his face, but the eyes he turned to Montana were trustful.
“I’m afraid you’re asking a lot, Major Sills.” Montana was smoothly courteous. “After all, we are a long way from your plantation, in time as well as miles. I have no authority over George.”
“I realize that, but was rememberin’ the courtesy due one officer from another, Captain.” Sills’ bow was to his saddle horn, short and ironical. His hands still clasped it. “I think that I am showing commendable restraint, everything considered. Need I point out that I have the force to take if I please, to do whatever is necessary, with no trouble on your part?”
“As to such reciprocal courtesy, you’re forgetting that the armies of the South, even the Confederacy, no longer exist. And in any case, I am not the law.”
Sills’ patience, never long, was wearing thin. His shrug was angrily contemptuous.
“You use a lot of words to say no. I tried to meet you halfway, Abbott, offering a way out, as proof of my honorable intentions. But I require no assistance in retaking property of mine. I had been about to administer punishment for insolence on that other occasion when he broke and ran. I perceive that that is still necessary, and it is long overdue—”
No one saw the gesture, though the next instant everyone was aware of the gun in Montana’s hand, its muzzle covering Sills. It had gotten from the holster too fast to follow. Denise, who had been watching with fearful expectancy, had seen only a blur.
“I’m not going to ask you not to make a wrong move, Sills.” Montana bit the words off sharply. “The fact is, Major, I’d relish an excuse for shooting you. Perhaps some of your crew would like to furnish one.”