lla.thelonelymen-第4部分

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　was　empty；　heavy　with　heat。
　The　temperature　was　over　a　hundred　in　the　shade。
　〃All　this　town　needs；〃　John　J。　Battles　said；　〃is　more　water　and　a　better　class　of　people。〃
　〃That's　all　hell　needs；〃　Spanish　replied。　〃Let's　get　into　the　shade。〃
　We　were　hard　and　lonely　men　who　rode　a　hard　and　lonely　way。　We　had　known　nothing　of　each　other　until　this　ride　began　in　Yuma；　and　even　now　we　knew　scarcely　more。　But　we　had　sweated　and　thirsted　together；　we　had　hungered　and　fought；　and　eaten　trail　dust　together；　so　now　we　rode　as　brothers　ride。
　We　were　men　with　sorrows　behind　us；　and　battles　too；　men　with　regrets　behind　us　of　which　we　did　not　speak；　nor　too　often　think。　With　none　to　share　our　sorrows　or　regrets；　we　kept　them　to　ourselves；　and　our　faces　were　impassive。　Men　with　no　one　to　share　their　feelings　learn　to　conceal　those　feelings。　We　often　spoke　lightly　of　things　which　we　took　very　seriously　indeed。
　We　were　sentimental　men；　but　that　was　our　secret；　for　an　enemy　who　knows　your　feelings　is　an　enemy　who　has　a　hold　on　you。　Not　all　poker　is　played　over　a　card　table。
　Although　we　spoke　so　lightly　of　Tucson　we　all　liked　the　town；　and　were　glad　to　be　there。
　Me；　I　was　nothing　but　a　tall　boy　from　the　high…up　Tennessee　hills　who　tried　to　live　the　way　he'd　been　taught。　Ma　hadn't　much　book　learning；　but　she　had　straight…out　ideas　on　what　was　fair　and　decent；　and　there　was　no　nonsense　about　her　and　Pa　when　it　came　to　dealing　with　enemies；　or　those　who　were　evil。
　Pa　stood　by　the　same　principles　Ma　did；　but　Pa　taught　us　other　things　too：　how　to　stand　up　for　what　he　believed　was　right；　and　to　back　down　for　no　man　when　it　came　to　fighting　time。　He　taught　us　how　to　fight；　how　to　find　our　way　through　rough　country；　and　how　to　handle　cards　better　than　most　gamblers；　although　he　didn't　hold　with　gambling。
　〃If　you　go　among　the　Philistines；〃　he　used　to　say；　〃it　is　better　to　go　armed。〃
　So　he　taught　us　how　to　recognize　a　bottom　deal；　and　to　read　marked　cards；　and　how　the　sharpers　operated。　The　four　of　us　split　up　on　the　street　in　Tucson。　Rocca　had　some　friends　in　the　Mexican　town；　and　Spanish　Murphy　went　with　him。　John　J。　Battles　had　plans　of　his　own；　and　so　had　I。
　With　me　there　was　no　choice；　and　little　time。　I　met　an　idea　head…on；　and　this　time　I　had　to　do　whatever　might　be　done　for　that　boy　of　Orrin's。　I'd　get　cleaned　up；　get　a　bite　to　eat；　and　then　I'd　find　this　Laura　Sackett。　I'd　never　met　Orrin's　wife；　but　any　woman　Orrin　would　cotton　to　would　be　all　right　with　me。　I'd　been　away　from　the　other　boys　and　knew　little　of　their　affairs。　Tyrel　had　married　a　girl　of　Spanish　blood；　and　had　done　well。　Orrin　had　run　for　office　and　been　elected；　and　I　did　recall　some　talk　of　his　marrying；　but　none　of　the　details。　Nor　had　I　any　idea　why　she　was　in　Tucson；　and　him　in　Washington。　Folks'　affairs　are　their　own　business；　and　I　never　was　one　for　asking　questions。　What　folks　wanted　me　to　know　they　would　tell　me；　and　I　had　enough　to　keep　me　busy。
　The　Shoo…Fly　Restaurant　was　a　long；　narrow　room　with　a　white　muslin　ceiling　and　a　floor　of　rammed　earth。　There　were　a　few　windows；　a　dozen　or　so　tables　of　pine　boards；　and　some　chairs　and　benches；　none　of　which　would　set　quite　even　on　the　floor；　but　the　food　was　good；　and　it　was　a　cool；　quiet　place　after　the　desert。　When　I　ducked　through　the　door　and　straightened　up　inside；　it　taken　me　a　moment　to　get　my　eyes　accustomed　to　the　place。
　Three　Army　officers　sat　at　one　table；　two　older　men　and　their　wives　at　another。　John　Titus　and　a　man　named　Bashford；　both　important　men　in　the　munity；　sat　nearby。　At　a　table　in　the　corner　near　the　window　sat　a　blonde　young　woman；　pale　and　pretty；　her　parasol　beside　her。　When　I　came　in　she　looked　at　me　quick　and　puzzled；　then　glanced　away。
　Seemed　like　I　was　the　roughest…dressed　man　in　the　place；　and　the　biggest。　My　boots　were　down　at　heel；　and　my　big　California…style　spurs　rattled　when　I　walked。　My　jeans　were　'most　wore　out；　and　they　carried　a　blood　stain。　I'd　shaved；　all　right；　but　my　hair　was　long　and　shaggy；　and　of　course　I　was　packing　a　six…shooter　as　well　as　a　bowie　knife；　and　carrying　a　Winchester。
　Mrs。　Wallen；　who　ran　the　place；　remembered　me　from　a　while　back。　〃How　do　you　do；　Mr。　Sackett；〃　she　said。　〃Did　you　just　get　in？〃
　〃Four　of　us　did；〃　I　said　dryly。　〃Two　of　us　didn't。〃
　Titus　looked　around　at　me。　〃Apaches？〃
　〃Uh…huh　。。。　I'd　say　about　fifteen；　twenty　of　them。〃
　〃Get　any　of　them？〃
　〃Some；〃　I　said；　and　took　a　seat　at　a　table　near　the　wall　where　I　could　see　the　door　and　could　stand　my　rifle　in　a　corner。
　〃If　you　got　any；〃　one　of　the　Army　officers　said；　〃you　were　lucky。〃
　〃I　was　lucky；〃　I　said。
　Mrs。　Wallen；　who　knew　hungry　men；　as　any　frontier　woman　would；　was　already　at　the　table　with　a　cup　and　a　pot　of　coffee。　Then　she　brought　me　a　slab　of　beef　and　some　chili　and　beans；　regular　fare　for　that　country。
　As　I　ate；　my　muscles　relaxed。　A　man　on　the　run　or　fighting　can　get　himself　all　keyed　up　with　muscle　and　nerve　ready　for　trouble　until　he's　tighter　than　a　drumhead。　This　was　a　pleasant　room；　and　while　I　was　never　much　hand　for　mixing　in　society；　I　liked　folks；　and　liked　to　be　among　them。
　Orrin　was　the　mixer　of　the　family。　He　had　him　an　easy　way　with　folks；　he　liked　to　talk　and　to　listen；　and　he　played　a　guitar　and　sang　like　any　good　Welshman。　Give　him　ten　minutes　in　a　room　and　he'd　be　friends　with　everybody　there。
　Me；　I　was　quiet。　I　guess　I'm　friendly　enough；　but　I　was　never　much　hand　at　getting　acquainted　with　folks。
　I　figure　I　was　shaped　to　be　a　wallflower；　but　I　don't　mind。　I　sort　of　like　to　set　back　and　listen　to　folks；　to　drink　coffee；　and　contemplate。
　When　trouble　shaped　up；　Orrin　would　try　to　talk　a　man　out　of　it；　although　he　was　a　hand　at　any　kind　of　fighting　when　they　decided　not　to　listen。　Tyrel；　he　was　the　mean　one。　I　mean　he　was　a　fine　man；　but　you　couldn't　push　him。　He　just　hadn't　any　give　in　him　at　all。　If　you　e　to　Tyrel　a…hunting　after　trouble　he　had　plenty　to　offer。　Me；　I　wasn't　much　of　a　talker；　and　no　kind　of　a　trouble…hunter。　Folks　had　to　bring　it　to　me　hard；　but　when　they　did　that　I　just　naturally　reacted。
　I'd　roped　and　hogtied　many　a　wild　longhorn　out　on　the　plains　of　Texas；　and　I'd　busted　some　mustangs　in　my　time；　and　quite　a　few　hard…to…get…along…with　men；　too。　When　it　came　to　shooting；　well；　me　and　Tyrel　could　never　figure　which　was　best。　We　had　both　been　shooting　since　we　were　big　enough　to　lift　a　cartridge。
　Sitting　there　in　that　quiet　room；　my　muscles　resting　easy　and　the　warmth　of　food　stealing　through　me；　I　listened　to　the　talk　around　and　wondered　if　ever　I　would　have　a　home　of　my　own。　Seemed　as　if　every　chance　left　me　with　less　than　before。
　My　home　was　wherever　I　hung　my　hat；　but　these　here　were　mostly　settled　folks　out　for　a　bite　to　eat　on　a　Sunday；　which　this　was。　Back　in　the　mountains；　e　Sunday　we　used　to　dress　in　our　go…to…meetin'　clothes　and　drive　down　to　church。
　It　was　a　fine　old　get…together　in　those　days。　We'd　listen　to　the　preacher　expounding　of　our　sins；　most　of　us　kind　of　prideful　we'd　managed　to　sin　so　much；　but　ashamed　before　his　tongue…lashing；　and　some　were　kind　of　amazed　that　they　were　so　sinful　after　all。　Seemed　like　with　farming　and　cussing　the　mules；　a　body　didn't　rightly　find　much　time　for　sinning。
　We'd　sing　the　hymns　in　fine；　rolling；　and　sometimes　out…of…tune　voices；　and　after　church　we'd　set　out　under　the　trees　with　our　picnic　lunches　and　some　of　the　womenfolks　would　swap　food　back　and　forth。　Emmy　Tatum；　she　made　the　best　watermelon　pickles　any　place　around；　and　old　Jeannie　Bland　from　up　at　the　forks　of　the　creek；　she　could　make　apple　cider　that　would　grow　bark　on　a　mushroom。
　That　was　long　ago　and　far　away；　but　sometimes　I　could　set　back　and　close　my　eyes　and　still　hear　those　folks　a…singing　〃On　Jordan's　Stormy　Banks〃　or　〃Rock　of　Ages；〃　or　maybe　the　one　about　the　church　in　the　wildwood。　Everything　was　homemade；　even　the　clothes　we　wore。　Why；　I'd　been　nigh　to　sixteen　before　I　ever　saw　a　pair　of　store…bought　pants；　or　shoes　we　hadn't　cobbled　ourselves　out　of　our　own　tanned　leather。
　One　of　the　Army　officers　was　standing　beside　my　table。　〃Mind　if　I　sit　down；　sir？〃　he　said。
　〃Wele；〃　I　said。　〃My　name　is　Sackett；　William　Tell　Sackett。〃
　He　extended　his　hand。　〃Captain　Lewiston；　sir。　You　mentioned　a　difficulty　with　the　Apaches。　Did　you　get　a　good　look　at　any　of　them？〃
　〃Well；　they　weren't　reservation　Indians；　if　that's　what　you　mean。〃
　〃How　do　you　know　that？〃
　Me；　I　just　looked　at　him。　〃By　the　smell　of　them。　They'd　e　out　of　the　desert　after　a　long　ride。　The　droppings　of　their　horses　showed　fibers　of　desert　plants　they'd　eat　only　if　there　was　nothing　else。〃
　〃Did　you　say　you　got　some　of　them？〃
　〃Three　。。。　and　one　I　hurt　but　didn't　kill。〃　He　looked　at　me；　and　so　I　told　him。　〃He　was　too　good　a　fighting　man　to　kill；　Captain。　I　got　two　of　them　with　my　rifle；　and　then　two　jumped　me　in　the　hollow。　One　I　killed；　but　the　other　was　a　tiger。　He　seemed　to　have　been　paralyzed　so　I　let　him　lay。〃
　〃You　weren't　alone？〃
　〃Three　men　along　with　me；　but　not　right　there。　I　think　they　might　have　killed　some；　too。〃
　〃You　lost　two　men？〃
　〃Taylor　and　Billy　Higgins。　I　never　knew　Taylor's　first　name。　We　didn't　get　a　chance　to　pick　up　their　bodies。　When　we　could　pull　out；　we