lla.theburninghills-第5部分

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　Prom　a　pocket　in　her　skirt　she　took　a　cartridge　and　reloaded　the　Colt。　If　Lantz　had　tracked　the　man　this　far　there　was　danger。　He　was　a　queer；　stoop…shouldered　old　man；　more　bloodhound　than　human。　He　never　bathed　and　prowled　around　the　hills　like　a　strange　cat。
　What　could　the　man　have　done？　To　make　them　hunt　him　so；　he　must　have　killed　a　Sutton。　Twice　during　the　morning　hours　riders　paused　near　the　spring　and　she　gathered　from　talk　she　overheard　that　they　were　working　all　the　canyons　with　care。
　Juanito　walked　toward　her；　swinging　a　stick。　〃Who　do　they　look　for？〃　he　asked。
　She　looked　at　him；　her　eyes　warm。　When　she　had　turned　back　from　her　facing　of　Sutton　she　had　seen　Juanito　get　up　from　behind　a　rock。　Only　eleven；　he　was　already　like　her　father。　He　had　been　large…eyed　and　pale　but　he　had　the　rifle。
　〃A　man；〃　she　said。　〃They　look　for　a　man。〃
　〃I　don't　want　them　to　find　him。〃
　〃Maybe　they　won't；〃　she　said。
　A　rider　came　down　the　canyon　in　worn　buckskin　breeches　and　a　patched　vest。　He　rode　a　ragged　paint　pony。　It　was　her　brother　Vicente；　a　tall　too…thin　young　man　with　a　weak　face。
　She　stared　at　him；　feeling　no　kinship；　wondering　how　a　son　could　be　so　little　like　the　father。　Vicente　could　draw　a　gun　faster　than　any　man　she　had　ever　seen；　as　fast　as　Jack　Sutton；　probably；　who　had　killed　eleven　men。　But　Vicente　had　killed　no　one；　nor　was　he　likely　to。　He　was　a　weak　man；　without　courage。
　〃What　do　they　do　here？〃　he　demanded。　〃For　whom　do　they　look？〃
　〃You　afraid？〃　she　asked　contemptuously。
　〃I　am　afraid　of　nothing！〃　He　spoke　loudly；　glaring　at　her。　〃Why　should　I　be　afraid？〃
　〃Why？　Why；　I　don't　know。　Only　you　afraid。　You　always　afraid　of　everything。〃
　Juanito　could　not　hold　back　the　story。　〃Maria　Cristina　shot　Senor　Sutton。〃
　Vicente　was　shocked。　〃You　shot　him？〃
　She　shrugged。　〃In　the　ear；　only。　His　horse　jumped。〃
　Vicente　stared　at　her。　She　would　be　the　death　of　them　all！　They　had　little　enough　but　here　they　were　left　unmolested。　Why　could　she　not　leave　well…enough　alone？　The　business　of　gringos　was　the　business　of　gringos。
　Vicente　remembered　finding　the　body　of　his　father。　He　had　worshiped　his　father　and　his　father　had　been　a　strong　man　and　yet　for　all　his　bravery　and　strength　they　had　hunted　him　down　like　a　crippled　wolf　and　left　him　dead　upon　the　rocks。　What　chance　then　for　Vicente？
　He　stared　gloomily　at　the　ridges；　wishing　they　would　find　the　man　and　go　away。　Maybe　he　was　a　coward。　But　he　was　alive　and　the　sun　was　warm　and　there　was　music　in　the　wind。
　〃I　wish　they　would　find　him；〃　Vicente　said。　〃Then　they　would　go　away。〃
　Maria　Cristina　stared　at　him；　her　eyes　black　and　scornful。　〃You　are　a　fool。〃
　He　started　to　reply　angrily；　then　rode　away；　his　back　stiff　with　outrage。　Did　she　not　know　he　was　the　man　of　the　family？　To　speak　so　to　him！　But　he　could　not　maintain　the　outrage　for　it　was　she　who　ran　the　family　affairs　and　he　was　afraid　of　her。
　Maria　Cristina　stared　after　him　but　she　was　already　thinking　of　the　other　problem。　Where　could　a　man　hide　and　not　be　found　by　Jacob　Lantz？
　Yet　even　if　there　had　been　a　safer　place；　to　move　now　was　a　danger。　A　man　cannot　be　trailed　who　leaves　no　tracks　and　as　long　as　he　could　lie　quiet　on　the　shelf；　he　might　be　safe。　But　she　must　be　careful　。。。　very　careful。
　It　was　Maria　Cristina　who　led　her　family　to　this　valley　after　the　death　of　her　father。　She　had　learned　of　the　shelf　long　ago　and　went　there　sometimes　to　be　alone。　So　far　as　she　was　aware　it　was　known　to　no　one　else。　The　Indians　who　once　lived　there　had　chosen　the　site　with　care。　It　was　not　an　easy　place　to　find。
　She　had　bought　their　first　sheep；　she　tended　them　and　saw　to　their　shearing　and　the　sale　of　the　wool。　It　was　she　who　insisted　upon　the　strong　well…built　adobe　where　they　now　lived。　And　she　had　sent　to　San　Francisco　for　the　few　furnishings　left　after　her　marriage。
　She　had　married　a　gringo　cowhand　when　she　was　fifteen　and　after　her　father　was　killed　and　with　him　she　had　gone　to　Virginia　City　in　Nevada。　There　he　struck　it　rich　in　the　silver　mines　and　they　went　to　San　Francisco；　but　drink　and　gambling　broke　him　and　he　died　in　a　gun　battle　while　drunk。　Maria　Cristina　returned　to　her　family　with　all　the　fine　pride　of　her　Mexican　heritage　and　the　memories　of　brief　days　of　glory　in　Virginia　City　and　San　Francisco。
　When　she　came　the　second　time　to　the　rock　shelf　it　was　sudden。　A　rustle　of　petticoats　and　a　brush　of　moccasin　on　a　stone　and　she　was　there。　She　had　e　up　some　trail　from　behind　the　ruin。　She　knelt　beside　him　in　one　swift　graceful　motion；　placing　a　pot　on　the　ground。　It　was　a　stew；　still　hot。
　〃Eat。。。　there　is　no　time　for　talk。〃
　He　ate　hungrily　while　she　removed　the　bandage　and　examined　the　wound。　It　looked　little　better。　She　bathed　it　and　replaced　the　bandage　with　a　clean　cloth。
　When　he　had　finished　the　stew　she　took　the　pot　to　the　spring　and　washed　it；　then　returned　with　a　piece　of　cotton　cloth　wrapped　around　some　tortillas　and　some　strips　of　jerked　beef。　〃No　fire；〃　she　warned；　〃they　look　for　you。〃
　She　started　to　rise　but　he　caught　at　her　skirt。　She　looked　down　at　him；　her　face　sullen；　revealing　nothing。
　〃Who　are　you？　Where　do　you　e　from？〃　he　asked。
　〃Do　I　ask　this　of　you？〃
　〃I　want　to　know　whom　to　thank。〃
　〃Tornado。〃
　〃At　least　your　name。〃
　She　said　nothing；　standing　patiently　until　he　released　her　skirt。　She　arose　with　a　lithe　movement　and　turned　away　but　he　craned　his　neck　to　look　after　her　and　said　suddenly；　without　conscious　thought；　〃You　。。。　you're　beautiful！〃
　〃I　think　you　talk　too　much。。。　you　sleep。〃　Yet　when　she　reached　the　ruined　wall　she　stopped。　She　did　not　turn　her　head　but　when　she　had　stepped　over　the　fallen　stones　she　said；　〃Maria　Cristina；〃　and　was　gone。
　He　listened　for　some　further　sound　of　her　going　but　heard　nothing　but　the　trickling　of　the　water。　She　was　risking　her　life　to　e　here。　To　most　of　the　Sutton…Bayless　crowd　the　fact　that　she　was　a　woman　would　mean　nothing　beside　the　fact　that　she　was　an　enemy。
　Jacob　Lantz　was　the　man　he　feared。　Lantz　was　a　man　with　a　reputation。　He　had　been　one　of　the　mountain　men；　had　scouted　for　the　army　against　the　Indians；　had　hunted　and　trapped　where　his　will　took　him。　He　had　lived　much　with　Indians；　not　only　the　Utes　who　were　his　mother's　people　but　with　Navajo　and　Apache　as　well。　He　would　watch　the　girl；　knowing　she　lived　nearby　and　knowing　she　was　an　enemy。　The　wounded　man　would　need　food　and　care　and　if　he　was　to　get　it　at　all；　it　must　be　from　this　family。　And　Jacob　Lantz　was　not　an　easy　man　to　outguess。
　〃Maria　Cristina。〃
　He　whispered　the　name；　liking　the　sound　of　it　in　his　ears。　Spanish；　certainly。　Yet　she　moved　like　an　Indian　and　there　was　about　her　an　innate　dignity　as　typical　of　the　Indian　as　the　Spanish。　There　was　that　dignity　and　a　pride　of　person　out　of　keeping　with　her　surroundings。　These　things　impressed　him。
　He　checked　his　guns　again。　There　could　be　no　certainty　for　him。　Every　moment　was　a　moment　of　danger。　Each　hour　might　be　his　last。　He　was　leaving　no　tracks；　yet　the　ing　and　going　of　the　girl　could　not　long　remain　unnoticed。
　The　food　he　now　had　was　sufficient　for　a　couple　of　days　if　he　ate　sparingly　and　he　knew　he　must。　There　was　no　telling　when　she　could　return。　Or　if　she　would。
　Whatever　path　she　used　must　be　well　concealed；　yet　the　fact　that　his　hiding　place　was　known　at　all　worried　him。　If　found；　he　would　have　no　chance　at　escape。　It　was　simply　a　matter　of　killing　until　he　was　himself　killed。　He　could　only　hope　they　would　e　when　he　was　awake。
　He　lay　back；　staring　up　at　the　rocks。　He　was　very　weak　and　the　slightest　movement　tired　him。　It　must　be　days；　even　weeks　before　he　would　be　fit　to　travel。　And　that　was　long；　much　too　long。　Again　and　again　his　thoughts　reverted　to　Maria　Cristina。　A　long　time　ago；　in　another　life；　he　remembered　women　who　had　such　poise　and　bearing。　But　that　had　been　in　the　Tidewater　region　of　Virginia　when　he　was　a　boy。
　What　could　her　blood　line　be？　The　Conquistadores？　Or　that　even　older　lineage；　of　the　Toltec　kings？
　At　times　he　heard　riders　in　the　canyon　or　on　the　mesa　above；　so　he　knew　the　search　continued。　And　again　he　watched　the　evening　e；　watched　the　shadows　grow　long　and　waited　for　that　lone　star　above　the　canyon's　rim。
　Only　tonight　there　were　two。　One　hung　in　the　sky；　the　other　was　lower　down；　somewhere　on　the　mesa　across　the　way；　but　this　was　a　fire；　the　campfire　of　watching　men。
　
　Chapter　Two
　Jacob　Lantz　was　beside　the　fire　and　it　was　seven　miles　from　the　ledge　on　which　Trace　Jordan　lay　wounded。　Jack　Sutton　was　there　with　him　and　a　half…dozen　others。　All　were　tired　and　the　older　men　disgusted。　The　younger　ones　found　it　a　wele　relief　from　range　work　but　all　were　determined。　Only　Jacob　Lantz　was　tasting　the　bread　of　bitterness。
　For　the　first　time　in　years　he　had　lost　a　trail　he　could　not　again　find。　Jordan　had　eluded　him；　either　escaping　clear　out　of　the　country　or　hiding　himself　securely。
　The　trail　had　simply　vanished。　Nor　was　it　possible　to　say　exactly　where　it　had　vanished。　Sutton　did　not　believe　Jordan　had　ever　mounted　the　mesa　and　Hindeman　was　inclined　to　agree。　Lantz　was　positive　Jordan　had　reached　the　mesa　but　could　not　explain　why　he　believed　it。　He　had　seen　only　two　fresh　tracks　atop　the　mesa　an