the Man Called Noon (1970) by Louis L'amour Read Free Book Online Page A

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    After studying the view he sat down in the chair at the desk. It was a comfortable chair and felt right to him, and the cabin felt right, too. In the winter this valley would be snowed in, closed off to the world, but in the summer it was a haven, a secure place.
    He got up suddenly. He must be getting back. In actual distance he was not far from the Rafter D, but at the pace he would have to travel it would probably take almost two hours to return.
    But first he must discover the other way into the high valley. A careful search proved only one thing: there was no easy way out of the valley, and in fact no way at all that he could find. Yet there had to be such a route. Nothing that was in the cabin could have been brought up the way he had come.
    For the first time he stood back and studied the rock-built cabin itself. Immediately he was aware that a part of it was much older than the rest. The stable and part of the cabin had been added at a later date, but that part of the stable that adjoined the house was older.
    But he realized that he could spend no more time here at present. Mounting his horse, he went back the way he had come, pondering the problem of the access route. When he had once more come to the bottom of the steep mountainside he remained under cover for some time, studying the surrounding area to be sure that nobody saw him emerge from the trees. Then he swung down and carefully removed as many traces of his passage as possible.
    The moon was up and supper was long past when he rode into the ranch yard. As he dismounted he saw a man stand up and go into the bunkhouse. Was it Kissling, watching for him?
    He stripped the gear from his horse and turned the dun into the corral, then went up to the ranch house. The Chinese cook had finished washing up and showed no pleasure at seeing him.
    "Supper all finish," the cook said. "What you want?"
    "Coffee will do-just coffee."
    Fan appeared in the door from the study. "You go ahead, Wing. I'll find something for him."
    Grumbling, Wing went off to his quarters, and Fan brought some bread, cold beef, and cheese from the cupboard. "There's some frijoles, too," she said. "Do you want them?"
    "Please "
    "Have a nice ride?"
    His way of answering was to say, "You've got some cattle that must be shipped. I'd say four or five hundred head, but there might be twice that many."
    "We haven't shipped any cattle since pa died. Even since before he died."
    "You're overstocked. The range is in good shape because you had plenty of rain and snow. But it won't be good next year until you get rid of some older stock."
    "I don't know whether Ben Janish will let us." He glanced at her. "The hell with him."
    "That is easy to say. We would have to have extra hands ... most of these boys don't dare appear where the law can see them. Word would get out, and this place would be ruined for them."
    "Did you ever hear of a man named Matherbee?" he asked.
    "No."
    "How about Ruble Noon?"
    "Everybody knows about him."
    For a few moments then they sat in silence while he ate. She refilled his cup.
    "Apparently I have forgotten much," he said. "Or perhaps there was much I never knew. Put yourself in my place. I do not know what kind of man I have been, nor how I should react. I know that men were wanting to kill me, but I do not know if they were a mob or the law. I sometimes think that I should go away from here, lose myself in the mountains, and stay there until my memory comes back and I know who and what I am."
    "I would miss you," she said suddenly, without thinking.
    "Those are the first kind words anyone has said to me, but don't think them. Neither of us knows what I was, nor what I will be if my memory returns. I am a haunted man - haunted by the ghosts of what I may have been."
    "Then make a decision to start over," she said. "No matter what you have been, you can always become something else."
    "Is it that simple? Is a man ruled by his own free will, or is he a composite of all his