Louis L'Amour Read Online Free

myself, but then I said, “There was an organized search, then? The village turned out?”
    Penney flushed. “Well—”
    â€œTell him the truth!” Mother Penney spoke sharply. “Nary a bit would they do but talk, talk, talk! And all they would say was ‘good riddance,’ and not for my Carrie, mind you, but for Diana Macklin!”
    â€œWe had better know each other,” I said. “I am Kin Ring Sackett, brother to Yance.”
    â€œI am Tom Penney—my wife Anna.” He paused, looking uneasy. “Others are coming.”
    â€œOthers?”
    â€œJoseph Pittingel will come here himself. And Robert Macklin.”
    Anna Penney looked at me. “Carrie has been gone for days upon days. We know not if she be alive or dead.”
    â€œIf she is alive,” I said, “we will bring her home. If she be dead, we will find where she lies.”
    â€œI believe you will. When Carrie disappeared, it was Yance Sackett of whom I thought.”
    Tom Penney interrupted, a shade of irritation in his voice, which led me to believe this had been much discussed and that he had not approved. “No doubt he is a hunter. But he is only a man. What can he do that we have not done?”
    Ignoring him, I said to her, “You have had Indian trouble?”
    â€œNo, not recently. You see, Joseph Pittingel has much influence with the savages, and he has kept them from us.”
    â€œThen he is the man to get them back, and by peaceful means. A voice lifted in their councils mightbe all that is needed. Or, failing that, a ransom of goods.”
    â€œWe would pay,” Penney said, “although we have little to offer.”
    â€œOh!” Anna Penney put a hand to her mouth. “How awful of me! You have not eaten!”
    â€œI am hungry,” I replied, “and the others are, also. If you could put something up, I’d carry it to them.”
    She began putting dishes on the table. A bowl of hot stew and a mug of cider with fresh-made bread. I fell to, listening to Penney as he grumbled. Even as he talked, I could sense the fear in the man, fear for his daughter coupled with the helplessness of a man who knows not which way to turn.
    There was a sharp rap at the door and an exchange of words, and the door opened. I felt the draught but did not look up.
    Two men had come in, and I identified them at once by their voices. Pittingel’s was that of authority, of a man assured of his position and a little contemptuous of those about him of lesser station or what he conceived to be so. The other man’s voice was quiet, his accents those of an educated man.
    â€œSackett?” I looked up, then stood up. “This is Joseph Pittingel—and Robert Macklin.”
    â€œKin Sackett,” I said, “up from Carolina.”
    â€œA brother to Yance Sackett, I believe,” Pittingel said. “A difficult man, your brother.”
    â€œA very able man,” I replied coolly, “with perhaps ways that are different than yours.”
    â€œIt is regrettable,” Pittingel said, “that you have had your long march for nothing. All that could be done has been done. We made every effort, but by now they are far, far away, and the Pequots, well, they are a hard and bloody people.”
    â€œI hear much talk of Pequots,” I said, sitting down again, “but nobody seems to have seen them.”
    â€œOf course, they were here. I am told one does not often
see
Indians.”
    â€œToo true,” I agreed. “And it might have been them.”
    â€œA frightful people!” Pittingel said. “A vicious, murderous lot!”
    â€œNothing seems to prevail,” Macklin said quietly. “I am afraid our daughters will never be found, as the others were not.”
    â€œThere have been others?”
    â€œI see no connection.” Pittingel dismissed the idea with a gesture. “No doubt they wandered off into the woods and