lla.theburninghills-第8部分

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。　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　with　such　sounds。　It　would　have　to　be　some　other　sound；　something　that　did　not　belong　to　the　quiet　symphony　of　the　night。
　Wind　stirred；　a　faint　breeze。　The　night　was　wide；　white　and　still。　The　pinnacles　gave　birth　to　long　shadows　。。。　he　had　been　mistaken　then。　It　had　been　imagination　or　fever。　Yet　he　stood　a　moment　longer。　The　air　he　drew　into　his　lungs　was　fresh　and　cool　as　mountain　water　and　the　stars　hung　like　lanterns　in　the　sky。　He　knew　the　feelings；　the　smells。　He　knew　the　long　hours　of　heat；　the　moving　cloud　shadows；　the　thousand　canyons　with　their　thousand　untold　stories。　He　knew　the　tumbledown　pueblos　and　the　Tivas　and　the　mysterious　trails　left　by　the　Old　Ones　and　marked　by　their　rock　piles　。。。　there　were　rock　piles　beside　the　trails　in　Tibet；　he　had　heard　。。。　his　side　was　itching　tonight。　Maybe　the　flesh　was　beginning　to　heal。
　He　turned　back；　then　stopped　abruptly。　He　heard　a　faint　sound；　something　moving　down　below　in　the　canyon。　He　listened　。。。　the　bright　moonlit　stillness　brought　tiny　sounds　to　his　ears。　Barely　audible。　Something　。　。　。　somebody　was　moving　down　below。
　Breathless；　he　held　himself；　aware　that　somebody　or　something　could　hear　also。　And　might　already　have　heard　him。
　Had　he　made　a　sound　in　his　delirium？　He　did　not　believe　so；　for　a　man's　subconscious　remains　on　guard　always。　Yet　the　rock　walls　were　like　sounding　boards　and　he　could　hear　easier　what　moved　below　than　they　could　hear　him。
　He　heard　the　faint　stirring　again　。。。　had　the　searcher　some　clue？　He　could　not　be　looking　for　tracks　at　this　hour；　yet。。。　？　The　night　was　empty　again。　Far　off　a　plaintive　coyote　begged　the　sky。
　〃It　ain't　no　way　reasonable。〃　Joe　Sutton　stared　Irritably　into　the　fire。　〃No　man　drops　out　o'　sight　the　way　he　done。〃
　Ben　Hindeman　rolled　his　tobacco　in　his　jaws；　not　talking。　He　was　reasoning　it　out　in　his　slow；　methodical　way。　Of　them　all；　Hindeman　was　the　only　one　to　whom　Jack　Sutton　ever　took　a　back　seat　and　Joe　had　his　own　ideas　about　that。　Jack；　for　all　his　gun…slinging；　was　a　little　afraid　of　his　hard…jawed　brother…in…law。
　〃Lost　him；〃　Mort　Bayless　said；　〃over　on　that　mesa　and　he　was　in　bad　shape。　He　didn't　get　far。〃
　It　was　Mort's　brother　whom　Jordan　had　killed　at　Mocking　Bird　Pass　and　Mort　had　been　one　of　them　with　Jack　at　the　killing　of　Johnny　Hendrix。　He　had　no　particular　worry　about　Jordan　ever　getting　him　。。。　he　wanted　to　get　Jordan　to　even　up　for　his　brother　and　because　he　was　a　killer　by　nature。
　〃If　he　ever　got　to　the　mesa　at　all；〃　Joe　said。
　During　the　last　two　days　the　search　had　dwindled　away　and　Jack　Sutton　was　pleased。　Two　of　the　boys　had　returned　to　cut　hay；　another　had　a　wife　who　was　expecting。　The　need　for　many　men　was　past　and　as　he　fingered　the　thick　scab　on　his　ear　lobe；　he　wished　they　would　all　go　home。　He　had　plans　of　his　own　and　the　capture　or　killing　of　Trace　Jordan　had　bee　secondary。
　Ben　was　the　one　he　wanted　to　go　back。　Ben　didn't　want　the　Mexicans　bothered　and　had　it　been　anyone　but　Ben　he　would　have　believed　him　soft　on　the　girl。　But　not　Ben。　He　was　never　soft　on　anyone。　That　very　lack　of　feeling　made　Jack　uneasy。　Ben　was　tough　and　in　his　slow　way　he　was　smart。
　Jacob　Lantz　leaned　over　and　filled　his　cup　with　coffee；　〃He's　around；〃　he　said　flatly。
　Ben's　head　came　up。　〃You　see　him？〃
　〃No　。。。　but　he's　here。〃
　〃How　d'　you　know　if　you　ain't　seen　him？〃　Jack　demanded　irritably。　Sometimes　Lantz's　cocksureness　infuriated　him。
　〃If　Jake　says　he's　here；〃　Hindeman　said；　〃then　he's　here。〃
　〃I　don't　know　why；〃　Lantz　said；　〃but　I　feel　it。〃
　〃If　he's　here；〃　Mort　Bayless　poked　the　fire；　〃them　greasers　know　it。　I　say　we　just　ride　down　there　and　take　that　girl　…''
　〃Well　do　nothing　of　the　kind。〃　Hindeman　did　not　even　look　around。
　〃She　wouldn't　talk；　no　way；〃　Lantz　said。
　〃I'd　make　her　talk！〃　Mort　said　savagely。　〃You'd　see！〃
　〃You're　a　fool；〃　Hindeman　said。　〃You　could　kill　her　and　she　wouldn't　talk。　Not　that　one。〃
　Lantz　took　his　coffee　and　a　dish　of　beans　to　one　side。　Meanwhile　his　ferreting　mind　gnawed　at　the　problem。　A　wounded　man；　alone。。。
　〃Got　to　be　close；〃　Hindeman　said。　〃If　he's　alive　he's　eatin'　and　if　he's　eatin'　he's　gettin'　it　from　the　Mexicans。　But　Vicente　is　the　only　one　ever　leaves　the　place。〃
　Jack　Sutton　was　stretched　on　a　blanket。　He　lifted　himself　to　an　elbow。　〃Mort；　tomorrow　you　an'　Joe　stick　to　Vicente。　Go　where　he　goes。　Stick　tight　to　him。〃
　〃Won't　get　us　nothing。　I　think　it's　the　girl。〃
　〃Jack's　got　the　idea；　Mort。　Stick　to　him。　He'll　break。　He'll　make　a　wrong　move　or　he'll　talk。〃　He　turned　his　leonine　head。　〃Don't　crowd　him；　just　watch　him。〃
　Lantz　was　beginning　to　know　Jordan。　He　was　a　man　who　had　been　up　the　creek　and　over　the　mountain　。。。　when　they　caught　him　it　was　not　going　to　be　fun。
　〃I'll　find　him；〃　he　said。　〃When　I　find　him；　you　boys　can　have　him。〃
　They　looked　at　him；　this　wry　old　man　with　his　sour…smelling　body　and　the　look　of　secret　humor　about　him。
　〃What's　that　mean？〃
　〃Some　of　you　boys　won't　ride　back。　This　one's　a　curly　wolf。〃
　Somebody　snorted　his　disgust　and　Mort　Bayless　turned　impatiently。　Jack　Sutton　was　angered　by　Lantz's　attitude；　yet　he　was　well　aware　that　without　him　they　wouldn't　have　e　this　far。　Old　Bob　Sutton　had　kept　Lantz　around　and　now　it　was　Ben。
　Jacob　Lantz　went　to　his　blankets　and　rolled　up。　Staring　morosely　at　the　sky；　his　thoughts　ran　back　over　the　terrain。　There　had　to　be　a　place　and　it　had　to　be　close　by。
　Morning　was　a　suggestion　of　pale　light　when　Jordan　awakened。　His　first　thought　was　of　the　creeping　sounds　of　the　previous　night。　He　must　be　very　careful。
　By　daylight　he　examined　the　steep　chimney　of　trails。　A　girl　or　a　child　might　manage　that　narrow　ledge　but　one　wrong　step　。。。　that　girl　was　one　to　mother　a　race　of　warriors。　Yet　a　man　might　slide　a　horse　down　the　incline　of　trails。　He　had　seen　wild　horses　do　stunts　almost　as　dangerous。　Yet　a　man　might　wind　up　at　the　bottom　with　a　broken　leg　and　have　to　shoot　it　out。
　Jordan　saw　the　young　man　he　took　to　be　Maria　Cristina's　brother　start　up　the　canyon　on　the　paint　pony。　As　he　rounded　a　bend　in　the　canyon；　two　horsemen　fell　in　behind　him。　Twice　the　young　Mexican　turned　to　look　back。
　Two　more　riders　rode　up　to　the　house　and　dismounted　near　the　stable。　So　it　had　gone　that　far。　Every　move　of　the　Chaveros　was　to　be　watched。　Another　man　came　out　of　the　willows　and　walked　toward　Maria　Cristina。　She　saw　him　ing　and　waited；　her　black　hair　blowing　in　the　wind；　her　skirt　stirring。　She　stood　very　straight。
　Several　minutes　they　talked。　Her　manner　was　cool　and　imperious。　There　was　something　fascinating　in　her　face　as　he　watched　through　the　glasses；　something　proud　and　fierce　that　sent　a　strong　eagerness　through　him。
　The　man　to　whom　she　talked　was　Jacob　Lantz；　a　man　without　emotion；　a　man　with　an　obsession。　Whatever　he　said　left　her　unstirred　and　when　she　moved　her　dress　clung　to　her　hips　and　thighs。　He　put　the　glasses　down　and　mopped　his　face。　It　was　going　to　be　a　hot　day。
　No　question　about　it。　He　would　have　to　go。　He　had　no　right　to　cause　more　trouble。　He　would　make　a　break　for　it。　Returning　to　his　blankets；　he　settled　down　to　wait　for　darkness。
　Awakening　with　a　start；　he　found　it　was　already　night　and　he　heard　a　faint　rustle　of　sound。　He　came　swiftly　to　his　feet；　gun　in　hand。　Then；　bolstering　the　gun；　he　moved　swiftly　to　the　ruin。　Drawing　back　against　the　wall　until　the　shadows　folded　him　into　their　darkness；　he　waited　。。。
　At　first；　no　sound　but　the　trickle　of　water；　then　a　faint　whisper　of　movement；　a　suggestion　in　the　night；　a　sound　of　breathing　。。。　his　hands　went　out；　grasping　for　a　throat。
　His　hands　caught　at　flesh　。。。　there　was　an　instant　of　fierce　struggle　ending　abruptly　when　his　hands　found　the　soft　contours　of　a　woman's　body。　〃Maria　Cristina？〃
　〃Let　me　go。〃
　The　voice　was　cool；　almost　detached。　Yet　there　was　tension　in　the　body　he　held。　Reluctantly　his　hands　relaxed　their　hold　but　he　did　not　move　them　away。
　She　stepped　back；　letting　his　hands　fall。　He　could　hear　the　sound　of　her　breathing。　A　little　faster　from　the　climb？　Prom　the　struggle？　Or。。。　？
　〃Thought　it　was　Lantz。〃
　She　did　not　reply。　There　w