lla.theburninghills-第8章

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d　be　an　end　of　him　。。。　and　good　riddance。
　Vicente　was　restless。　He　sat　the　worn　saddle　and　rolled　a　cigarette。　He　liked　the　sunlight　on　his　back。　He　did　not　know　they　were　watched　but　knew　they　must　be。　He　drew　deep　on　the　cigarette　and　Maria　Cristina　looked　up　at　him。　There　was　only　that　to　be　said　for　him。　The　way　he　sat　a　horse　and　wore　a　gun。　〃I　think　you　too　much　frighten；　Vicente。　You　。。。　who　are　good　with　a　gun。　I　think　you　better　than　Jack　Sutton。〃
　Vicente　was　so　astonished　that　he　rode　away。　It　was　the　first　time　Maria　Cristina　had　said　one　word　of　praise　to　him。　But　better　than　Jack　Sutton？　No　。。。　no；　it　could　not　be。　Yet　the　thought　remained。　She　believed　he　could　do　it。
　All　that　night　and　the　day　following　Trace　Jordan　lay　quiet　and　rested。　He　nibbled　at　his　food；　drank　a　lot　and　slept。　His　thoughts　reverted　to　Maria　Cristina。　There　was　a　kind　of　strong　fierce　pride　about　her　that　got　into　a　man's　blood；　no　matter　how　sullen　she　might　seem。
　At　dusk　three　riders　appeared　on　the　crest；　out　of　the　canyon　below。　Lantz　slipped　out　of　his　hiding　place　on　some　signal　and　went　to　meet　them。　Jordan　watched；　but　without　the　glasses；　for　the　sunlight　was　shining　into　the　shelf　and　he　was　afraid　a　reflection；　even　from　behind　the　brush；　might　warn　of　his　presence。
　The　sheep　were　starting　home。　He　looked　again　quickly。　Maria　Cristina　was　not　with　them！
　Lantz　finished　his　talk　with　the　men　and　started　back。　Jordan　reached　for　his　Winchester；　an　automatic　gesture。　Yet　almost　at　the　point　where　Lantz　could　have　seen　the　boy　was　alone　with　the　sheep；　he　turned　back　for　a　final　word。
　A　stone　rattled　and　Jordan　turned　swiftly。　Maria　Cristina　had　e　around　the　ruined　wall。　Her　breath　was　ing　fast；　her　eyes　were　wide。　She　had　a　small　package　of　food。　She　turned　to　go　and　he　caught　her　hand。
　〃Cuidado！　He　indicated　the　riders。　〃Hurry！　They　will　find　you　gone！〃
　Her　eyes　held　his；　cold；　inscrutable。　〃You　are　afraid　they　will　find　you？　Or　that　you　will　get　no　more　food？〃
　〃Don't　be　a　fool；〃　he　said　shortly。
　She　turned　abruptly　away。
　〃And　be　careful；〃　he　said。　〃You　are　a　beautiful　woman；　Maria　Cristina。〃
　She　looked　at　him；　her　eyes　flaring　a　little；　yet　as　she　seemed　about　to　speak　she　suddenly　turned　away。
　Lantz　had　disappeared　and　the　other　riders　were　riding　away　when　he　looked　around。　Rifle　in　hand；　he　moved　to　the　cliff…edge。　He　had　no　doubt　of　what　he　would　do　if　Lantz　saw　the　girl　and　followed　her。　He　could　kill　him。
　That　night；　long　after　darkness　had　e；　he　got　to　his　feet　for　the　first　time。　Using　his　rifle　as　a　cratch；　he　took　two　steps；　then　had　to　sit　down。　Later　he　managed　two　more。
　The　sheep　were　penned　and　Juanito　was　inside　when　Maria　Cristina　approached　the　house。　She　circled　to　e　up　from　the　spring　where　she　had　left　a　bucket　She　could　hear　angry　voices　within　the　house。　One　was　Vicente。　His　eyes　were　flushed　and　angry　when　she　came　into　the　house。
　Her　mother　shot　a　quick　glance　at　Maria　Cristina　from　dark；　worried　eyes。　Maria　Cristina　had　entered　in　the　midst　of　a　quarrel　gone　suddenly　silent。
　Vicente　stared　at　her　in　sullen　anger。　Head　high；　she　crossed　the　room　to　wash　her　hands。　Her　mother　began　placing　food　upon　the　table。　Juanito　sat　at　the　table；　holding　his　knife；　the　room　was　lighted　by　candles　and　by　the　fire。　It　was　a　large　room；　a　living…room　as　well　as　a　kitchen。　There　were　three　bedrooms　and　a　parlor；　never　used。
　Vicente　paced　the　floor。　Suddenly　he　turned　on　her。　〃You'll　get　us　all　in　trouble！　Hiding　that　man！〃
　Maria　Cristina　looked　at　him；　her　eyes　disdainful。　〃You　are　a　fool；〃　she　said。
　He　glared　at　her；　furious。　He　started　to　speak；　then　plunged　through　the　door　and　slammed　it　behind　him。　Maria　Cristina　looked　after　him；　her　lips　tightening。　Feeling　as　he　did；　there　was　no　telling　what　he　might　do。　Yet　he　did　not　know　of　the　hiding　place　on　the　cliff。　Not　even　Juanito　knew。
　And　he　was　right；　of　course。　It　was　a　danger　to　them　all　to　help　the　wounded　man。　Yet　she　had　found　him　alone；　wounded　and　dying；　and　it　had　seemed　there　was　nothing　else　to　do。
　Vicente　stomped　back　into　the　house　and；　seating　himself；　began　angrily　to　eat　〃You　have　no　right；〃　he　said。　〃Where　is　he？〃
　〃I　don'　know　what　you　talk　about。〃
　Vicente　half…sprang　to　his　feet　〃You　know！〃　he　shouted。　〃You　hide　that　man！　You　feed　him！〃
　〃And　if　I　do？〃
　〃They'll　bum　us　out！　They'll　kill　the　sheep！〃
　〃And　what　would　you　do？　Fight　or　run？〃
　Vicente　glared。　〃I　would　fight！〃
　〃All　right。。。　I　fight　now。〃
　Sullenly　he　returned　to　his　eating　and　when　he　had　finished　his　meal　he　got　to　his　feet　and　went　outside。　He　paused　by　the　window　and　Maria　Cristina　looked　at　him；　a　tall　young　man；　too　thin；　in　worn　and　shabby　clothes。　She　felt　a　sharp　pang　。。。　it　was　not　right　。。。　Vicente　had　no　youth。　No　bright　time　of　riding；　no　colorful　clothes　and　the　courting　of　girls。　He　had　grown　up　a　frightened　and　lonely　boy　in　a　land　of　strangers。　It　was　no　wonder　he　had　bee　a　frightened　young　man。
　Vicente　was　right。　She　should　not　bring　trouble　to　her　family。　They　had　been　born　to　trouble　and　had　lived　always　in　the　shadow　of　fear。　She；　at　least；　had　the　few　good　years　away　from　here；　even　if　there　had　been　bitterness　in　those　years　also。
　Why　should　she　help　the　man　on　the　cliff？　Because　he　was　the　enemy　of　her　father's　killers？　She　had　not　given　it　a　thought　at　the　time。　Because　he　had　been　hurt。。。　？
　She　had　listened　to　his　delirious　muttering　and　he　had　called　upon　no　woman。　Why　should　that　be　important？
　Yet　there　was　something　quiet　and　sure　about　him；　something　that　brought　her　peace；　even　in　the　midst　of　trouble；　something　that　stilled　her　restlessness。　The　memory　of　it　disturbed　her　so　she　brushed　away　the　thought。　Her　imagination；　that　was　all。　She　was　no　longer　a　child　to　be　excited　by　any　drifting　cowpuncher。
　　
　Trace　Jordan　got　to　his　feet　in　the　darkness　and　tried　using　the　rifle　for　a　crutch　again。　He　moved　carefully。　Tonight　a　rolling　pebble　might　be　heard　for　some　distance　and　he　dared　make　no　unusual　sound。　Yet　he　belted　on　his　gun　and　tried　it；　knowing　his　hands　would　need　their　skill。　He　would　need　his　guns。　At　any　minute　they　might　e。
　Considering　that；　he　went　around　the　ruin　to　the　way　up　used　by　Maria　Cristina。　It　was　a　steep　slide　of　trail　in　a　wide　crack　in　the　rock　wall　but　as　she　had　made　no　sound　。。。　he　saw　it　then；　a　narrow　ledge；　only　inches　wide；　along　the　edge　of　the　rock　slide。
　He　returned　to　the　spring　and　drank　deep　and　long。　He　never　seemed　to　get　enough　water。　A　gentle　wind　stirred　and　he　caught　a　whiff　of　wood　smoke。　They　were　still　out　there；　just　across　the　canyon；　waiting　for　him　to　make　a　mistake。　Had　they　a　clue？　Or　was　it　the　intuition　of　old　Jacob　Lantz？
　Despite　his　weakness　he　was　restless　and　the　big　red　horse　was　uneasy　too。　The　grass　was　growing　short　now　and　the　horse　could　not　be　fed　for　many　more　days。　They　had　been　penned　too　long；　yet　to　try　an　escape　now　was　out　of　the　question。　Using　the　rifle　as　a　crutch；　he　kept　trying　his　muscles。　He　knew　only　that　when　the　time　came　it　would　be　suddenly　。。。　he　was　always　hungry　now。　Was　it　a　sign　of　recovery？
　He　had　begun　a　systematic　study　of　the　country。　Knowing　desert　lands；　he　could　sort　out　the　canyons　and　ridges　and　make　sense　of　a　sort。　Even　canyons　have　a　pattern。。。　the　thought　of　attempting　that　trail　up　the　cliff　face　at　night　made　him　sick　to　the　stomach　but　by　day　they　would　be　an　open　target；　pinned　to　the　cliffs　face。
　What　of　Maria　Cristina？　So　lonely；　so　sullen；　so　remote？　She　was　proud　。。。　it　showed　in　every　line　of　her　body；　every　move。　Her　clothes　might　be　shabby　but　her　manner　was　that　of　a　queen。
　Yet　he　had　no　right　to　think　of　her。　He　must　think　only　of　getting　away　for　his　every　minute。　Here　was　a　danger　to　them　all。　He　moved　suddenly　and　the　movement　brought　a　gasp　of　pain　that　doubled　him　over。　He　sank　to　his　knees；　fighting　for　breath。　If　one　unexpected　movement　could　do　that　to　him　escape　was　impossible。
　He　crept　back　to　his　blankets　and　slept　and　then　a　long　time　later　he　awakened　with　a　start。　His　hand　dropped　over　the　butt　of　his　gun　。。。　what　had　awakened　him？　No　ordinary　sound　in　the　night　would　have　done　it；　his　subconscious　was　too　familiar