Ride the Man Down Read Free Page B

to her uncle, then, spoke with bitter resignation. “Give Russian Springs to Bide, John, and you’ll have every outfit begging on our doorstep.”
    Sam said easily, confidently, “Bide’s the only one to worry about. The rest will sing small when he’s satisfied.”
    Again Celia looked at Will, and again he was not watching this. She spoke almost with desperation. “You pay Will to run Hatchet, John. Ask him.”
    Sam shuttled his glance to Will and spoke immediately, aggressively. “John knows what Will would say. He doesn’t agree with it.”
    John Evarts looked relieved at Sam’s words, as if Sam had saved him from saying the same thing. Now he said, “We’ll ride over to Russian Springs early, Will. I’ll talk to Bide myself.”
    â€œAll right,” Will said mildly.
    Sam turned toward the door then, and John Evarts, saying good night, went past Celia into the other part of the house.
    Sam paused by the door, his hand on the knob, and said, “I’ll sleep here, Celia. Coming, Will?”
    â€œI’ve got a little work yet.”
    Sam looked at Celia then, and his stubborn face softened a little. “Good night, Celia.”
    â€œGood night, Sam.”
    Will toed the rickety swivel chair up to the desk and sat down heavily. He reached down the red-covered talley book from a desk pigeonhole and poked among the papers until he found the stub of a pencil. He knew Celia had not left the room, but he did not look at her.
    She came over to the desk then and shoved the papers aside and sat on the desk top beside him. Will glanced up and saw her watching him, and because he knew she wanted to talk and that there was no use trying to hide anything from her, he pitched the pencil back among the papers and tilted back in his chair. His black hair lay awry on his forehead, and he did not brush it back.
    Celia murmured with a kind of self-derision, “It’s been a long time since I was spanked and sent to bed this way.”
    â€œMe too,” Will said and grinned. He thought of Schultz and he murmured, “I deserved mine, I reckon.”
    They were silent for a while, each lost in the still private labyrinth of thought. Celia said finally, “Sam’s so sure,” in a small, doubting voice and looked questioningly at Will.
    He didn’t answer her, because he knew she didn’t want him to. “What will Bide do?” she asked then.
    â€œTake Hatchet. All of it.”
    Celia didn’t speak, and Will went on in a low, hard voice, “Bide’s hungry, and all the lickings Phil gave him didn’t cure it. He’ll be hungry until he gets Hatchet.”
    â€œSam doesn’t think so.”
    â€œNo,” Will said quietly, “I know he doesn’t.” He glanced at Celia, and for a long moment they looked in each other’s eyes, and then Celia looked away. Will didn’t have to apologize to her: she knew and she agreed with him.
    Again they were silent, and Will felt his weariness settle on him, but oddly he was resigned and at peace. The full sum of John Evarts’ weakness was known to him now, and that knowledge was some comfort. He knew Celia felt it, too, and he reflected idly upon that. There were times, like now, when he could tell what this girl was thinking, and there was no need for speech between them. During these six years he had been with Hatchet he had seen her grow from girlhood into womanhood and pledge herself to marry Sam Danfelser, and yet he was certain he understood her better than Sam ever would. He understood her better than he did Lottie, he reflected, and it was Lottie he would marry someday.
    He heard Celia sigh now, the sound of it small, almost inaudible, and he stirred restlessly in his chair and murmured, “We’re a couple of mavericks, kid.”
    Celia nodded soberly, her eyes grave. “Why have you stuck, Will?” she asked gently.
    â€œI don’t