Radigan (1958) by Louis L'amour

he retreated to be able to choose his own time for attack. The battle had been joined now and the time for negotiation was past. Whatever might have been done to avert the fight was now in the past. A man was dead ... .
    An hour they rode, and then they emerged from the trees on a vast slope, dotted here and there with the night black clumps of aspen, and they still rode west with the vast black bulk of the mesa on their right, towering five hundred feet into the sky above them. They rode in silence with only the wind for company and the ragged shadows of sentinel pines for lookouts. Radigan paused once and let the other two ride up beside him. "How're you coming?" he asked Gretchen.
    "All right, Tom. I can ride all night and all day if you like." "Good girl."
    John Child was silent. The moon was up now and the stars faded into its greater light.
    Only on the horizon were there clouds.
    "We're turning north." Radigan pointed west and, south with a sweep of his hand.
    "See that line of mesas? They look like a fleet in battle formation. Well, they point our way north. I think we'll bed down somewhere in the breaks south of Nacimiento Peak."
    As the crow flies they had covered no more than three or four miles, although the ground distance was twice that. Now, turning north with the distant, towering peak as guide, they rode again without a trail, riding in single file. Occasionally they were in forest, but much of the distance on long slopes with clumps of aspen and brush.
    They traveled slowly for the terrain was unfamiliar even to Child and Radigan. Both men had ridden over it by day, but at night nothing looks the same, and there were no landmarks they remembered. Moreover, their activities had largely centered on the other side of the mountain, east of the ranch. On their left the land fell away in a long slope toward the valley of the Rio Puerco, but this was off the R-Bar range, and out of the territory where their cattle usually strayed.
    The night was still. Several times Radigan drew up and listened for any sound of pursuit, but there was no sound but the sound of the wind, always the wind.
    Riding along the slope the ground suddenly fell away into a small basin almost filled with a grove of aspen. In the midst of 'a horseshoe formation of aspen and boulders there was a hollow away from the wind and a faint sound of trickling water. Radigan pulled up. "We'll take a break. Have some coffee."
    Child's saddle creaked as he swung down, and Radigan dismounted, reaching a hand up for Gretchen. Her hand was surprisingly strong as she swung down.
    "Tired?" "We've only started."
    Despite the rain they found bark from the underside of a deadfall, and leaves in the same place. There were dry branches under the trees, and in a minute or two a small blaze was going. It was very small-a man could cover that fire with his hat-but it was enough for coffee, and small enough to be unseen, sheltered as it was by the low ground and the aspen.
    Radigan went back into the darkness and located the spring. An owl went up out of the brush with a whoosh of sound and he dropped his hand to his gun, then grinned into the dark. He squatted on his haunches and filled the coffeepot after tasting the water. It was cold and fresh.
    Only a trickle, it came out of some rocks and fell into a small basin before trickling off down the slope.
    Firelight flickered on the flanks of the horses and reflected from polished saddle leather. Overhead a few stars sparkled, and Tom Radigan squatted on his heels and looked across the fire at Gretchen. There was no sign of weariness in her, and she looked excited and alive. Child caught his eye and grinned. "On the trail again," he said, "I wonder if 'a man ever gets away from it. "
    It was cool and damp in the hollow, but the coffee was hot and tasted good. Suddenly he felt exhilarated. All right, so they were in a fight, that Foley outfit weren't getting any virgins if it was fight they wanted. He'd been through the