Following the Grass by Harry Sinclair Drago Read Free Book Online

much, have I, to pay you back for all the faith you’ve had in me?” he said brokenly.
    â€œJoseph, my man!” Margarida repeated again and again as she clung to him.
    Not until she asked to be put down did he release her.
    â€œJoseph—do you know who shot Dorr?” she questioned.
    Gault nodded: “The same folks who stampeded the sheep. Ain’t no doubt of hit. Kit must a-happened along as they was cuttin’ the wire.”
    â€œYou—you don’t think my father did this?” Margarida demanded. “He had nothing against Dorr.”
    â€œNo! No, he didn’t have a hand in this, but the hatred of me that he’s preached all these years is to blame for hit. The Basque boys have been a-listenin’ to him so long they would do anythin’ to git rid of me. Dorr got hit ’cause he was in the way. The Circle-Z men must ’ve found Kit’s body some time ago. Like as not, they’ll be here, lookin’ for me, ’fore mornin’. Mornin’ll bring ’em, sure pop! got to be a long ways away by then.”
    Margarida just nodded. She knew as well as he that his life would be snuffed out if he were caught before the excitement subsided. Yes, he had to go. And these minutes—they were too precious to be wasted. Even while they had talked, a posse might have started for the cabin. The future was black for her, but the present was beset with such danger for her husband that she dared not think of what was to become of little Joseph and herself.
    â€œIs your horse ready?” she asked anxiously. “I’ll have a snack ready for you by the time you get him. We’ve been foolish to stand here idle.”
    Gault was back with Pepper by the time she had the lunch wrapped. The storm was abating. If it held on as it was now, he would be over the mountain and well into the Owyhee country by daylight. It was his intention to go down the Little Owyhee and cross into Idaho. Beyond that, he had no definite plan.
    â€œI ain’t a-goin’ to tell you where I’m headin’ for,” he said huskily. “You won’t have to lie to folks, then, when they try to dig hit out of you. If anybody comes to-night, say I ain’t home. An’ don’t worry no more’n you have to, Rita. Ain’t no way of sayin’ how long I’ll be gone. I’m a-goin’ to square this, some day. The wool’s contracted for; hit’ll give you money enough. You’ll have to git a boy for the sheep. Git word to Kincaid; he’ll find a herder for you. An’ if you need anythin’, ask Kin; he’s the only friend I got in the valley.”
    â€œYes, yes—! Joseph,” Margarida answered, “but hurry, hurry! What if they came now?”
    â€œI got to kiss the baby ’fore I go,” Gault mumbled, and with his wife at his heels, he tiptoed into the kitchen and opened the door of the little cubby-hole in which the child slept. The boy did not stir as his father dropped to his knees and brushed his cheek with quivering lips. Icy despair tore at Gault’s heart as he gazed on his son and realized that this might be his last look at him. A mad impulse to awaken the child and hear his voice once more almost overcame the kneeling man.
    Gault felt his wife’s hand upon his shoulder, entreating him to delay no longer, but for a while he could not take his eyes away from the boy’s face; pride and love held him chained.
    Tears were denied Gault. Dry-eyed, he had to face the mother, or else even her fine courage must fail at his going. That he masked his misery was no small accomplishment.
    â€œDon’t tell him nuthin’,” Gault whispered when the door had been closed, “hit’d only poison his mind. When he asks about me, tell him I had to go away for a spell. Keep this night from him as long as you can, Rita, ’cause he’s gittin’ so he thinks like a man; he’d want