Part 83 (2/2)

He fell asleep in the chair and awoke some three hours later. Yawning, he stood and rubbed his eyes. He heard sounds of shouting from the street below and moved to the window. A number of riders had drawn up and one of them was being helped from the saddle, blood seeping from a wound in his upper chest.

Dressing swiftly, Nestor ran down to the street in time to see Captain Leon Evans striding up to the group. The Crusader captain looked heroic in his grey, s.h.i.+eld-fronted s.h.i.+rt and wide-brimmed black hat. He wore two guns, belted high at his waist, gun b.u.t.ts reversed.

'The b.i.t.c.h shot him!' shouted Shem Jackson, .his face ugly with rage. 'What you going to do about it?'

Evans knelt by the wounded man. 'Get him to Doctor s.h.i.+vers. And be d.a.m.n quick about it, otherwise he'll bleed to death.' Several men lifted the groaning man and bore him along the sidewalk, past Broome's store. Everyone began to speak at once, but Leon Evans raised his hands for silence. 'Just one,' he said, pointing to Jackson. Nestor didn't like the man, who was known for his surly manner when sober and his violent streak when drunk.

Jackson hawked and spat. 'We spotted some Wolvers on the edge of my property,' he said, rubbing a grimy hand across his thin lips. 'And me and the boys here rode out after 'em.

We come near the McAdam place when she ups and shoots. Jack went down, then Miller's horse was shot out from under him. What you going to do about it?'

'You were on her property?' asked Evans.

'What's that got to do with anything?' argued Jackson. 'You can't just go round shooting folks.'

'I'll talk to her,' promised Evans, 'but from now on you boys stay clear of Beth McAdam.

You got that?'

'We want more than talk,' said Jackson. 'She's got to be dealt with. That's the law.'

Evans smiled, but there was no humour in his expression. 'Don't tell me the law, Shem,' he said quietly. 'I know the law. Beth McAdam gave fair warning that armed men were not to hunt on her property. She also let it be known that she would shoot any man who trespa.s.sed on her land in order to hunt Wolvers. You shouldn't have gone there. Now, as I said, I'll speak to her.'

'Yeah, you speak to her,' hissed Jackson. 'But I tell you this, woman or no woman, no one shoots at me and gets away with it.'

Evans ignored him. 'Get on back to your homes,' he said and the men moved away, but Nestor could see they were heading for the Mother of Pearl drinking-house. He stepped forward. The captain saw him and his dark eyes narrowed.

'I hope you weren't with those men,' said Evans.

'No, sir. I was sleeping up in my room. I just heard the commotion. I didn't think Mrs McAdam would shoot anybody.'

'She's one tough lady, Nestor. She was one of the first into Pilgrim's Valley; she fought the Lizard men, and since then there have been two brigand raids out on the farm. Five were killed in a gun battle there some ten years back.'

Nestor chuckled. 'She was certainly tough in school. I remember that.'

'So do I,' said Evans. 'How's the studying going?'

'Every time I try to read I fall asleep,' admitted Nestor.

'It must be done, Nestor. A man cannot follow G.o.d's path unless he studies G.o.d's word.'

'I get confused, sir. The Bible is so full of killing and revenging - hard to know what's right.'

That why the Lord sends prophets like Daniel Cade and Jon Shannow. You must study their words. Then the ways that are hidden will become known to you. And don't concern yourself about the violence, Nestor. All life is violence. There is the violence of disease, the violence of hunger and poverty. Even birth is violent. A man must understand these things. Nothing good ever comes easy.'

Nestor was still confused, but he didn't want to look foolish before his hero. 'Yes, sir,' he said.

Evans smiled and patted the young man's shoulder. 'The Deacon is sending one of his Apostles to Pilgrim's Valley at the end of the month. Come and listen.'

'I will, sir. What will you do about Mrs McAdam?'

'She's under a lot of strain, what with the Preacher gone, and the burning. I think I'll just stop by and talk with her.'

'Samuel says he thinks the devil has got into her,' said Nestor. 'He told me she threw him out of the house and called him an abomination.'

'He's a weak man. Often happens to youngsters who have strong parents. But I hope he isn't right. Time will tell.'

'Is it true that Laton Duke and his men are near by?' asked Nestor.

'His gang were shot to pieces down near Pernum. So I doubt it,' said the Crusader. They tried to rob a Barta coach, heading for the mines.'

'Is he dead then?'

Evans laughed. 'Don't sound disappointed, boy. He's a brigand.'

Nestor reddened. 'Oh, I'm not disappointed, sir,' he lied. 'It's just that he's . . . you know . . .

famous. And kind of romantic.'

Evans shook his head. 'I never found anything romantic about a thief. He's a man who hasn't the heart or the strength for work, and steals from other, better men. Set your sights on heroes a little bigger than Laton Duke, Nestor.' 'Yes, sir,' promised the youngster.

CHAPTER TWO.

It is often asked, How can the rights of the individual be balanced evenly with the needs of a society? Consider.the farmer, my brothers. When he plants the seeds for his harvest of grain he knows that the crows will descend and eat of them. Too many birds and there will be no harvest. So the farmer will reach for his gun. This does not mean that he hates the crows, nor that the crows are evil.

The Wisdom of the Deacon Chapter iv * * *

Beth swung the axe. It was an ungainly stroke, but the power of her swing hammered the nine-pound blade deep into the wood, splitting it cleanly. Woodlice crawled from the bark and she brushed them away before lifting the severed chunks of firewood and adding them to the winter store.

Sweat ran freely on her face. Wiping it away with her sleeve, she rested the axe against the wood-store wall, then hefted her long rifle and walked to the well. Looking back at the axe and the tree round she used as a base, Beth pictured the Preacher standing there and the fluid poetry of his movements. She sighed.

The Preacher . . .

Even she had come to regard Shannow as the man of G.o.d in Pilgrim's Valley, almost forgetting the man's lethal past. But then he had changed. By G.o.d he had changed! The lion to the lamb. And it shamed Beth that she had found the change not to her liking.

Her back was aching and she longed for a rest. 'Never leave a job half done,' she chided herself. Lifting the copper ladle from the bucket she drank the cool water, then returned to the axe. The sound of a horse moving across the dry-baked ground made her curse. She had left the rifle by the well! Dropping the axe she turned and walked swiftly back across the open ground, not even looking at the horseman. Reaching the rifle, she leaned down.

'You won't need that, Beth, darlinY said a familiar voice.

Clem Steiner lifted his leg over the saddle pommel and jumped to the ground. A wide grin showed on Beth's face and she stepped forward with arms outstretched. 'You're looking good, Clem,' she said, drawing him into a hug. Taking hold of his broad shoulders, she gently pushed him back from her and stared into his craggy features.

The eyes were a sparkling blue and the grin still made him look boyish, despite the grey at his temples and the weather-beaten lines around his eyes and mouth. His coat of black cloth seemed to have picked up little dust from his ride, and he wore a brocaded waistcoat of s.h.i.+ning red above a polished black gunbelt.

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