The Untamed - Max Brand
"I'm trustin' to you boys to stand back of me all through," said the
sheriff with a sort of whine, "but I'm thinkin' that we won't have no
trouble. When we see him we won't stop for no questions to be asked,
but turn loose with our six-guns an' shoot him down like a dog. He's
not human an' he don't deserve--Oh, God!"
He started up from his chair, white faced, his hands high above his
head, staring at the apparition of Whistling Dan, who stood with two
revolvers covering the posse. Every man was on his feet instantly,
with arms straining stiffly up. The muzzles of revolvers are like the
eyes of some portraits. No matter from what angle you look at them,
they seem directed straight at you. And every cowpuncher in the room
was sure that he was the main object of Dan's aim.
"Morris!" said Dan.
"For God's sake, don't shoot!" screamed the sheriff. "I--"
"Git down on your knees! Watch him, Bart!"
As the sheriff sank obediently to his knees, the wolf slipped up to
him with a stealthy stride and stood half crouched, his teeth bared,
silent. No growl could have made Bart more terribly threatening.
Dan turned completely away from Morris so that he could keep a more
careful watch on the others.
"Call off your wolf!" moaned Morris, a sob of terror in his voice.
"I ought to let him set his teeth in you," said Dan, "but I'm goin' to
let you off if you'll tell me what I want to know."
"Yes! Anything!"
"Where's Jim Silent?"
All eyes flashed towards Morris. The latter, as the significance of
the question came home to him, went even a sicklier white, like the
belly of a dead fish. His eyes moved swiftly about the circle of his
posse. Their answering glares were sternly forbidding.
"Out with it!" commanded Dan.
The sheriff strove mightily to speak, but only a ghastly whisper came:
"You got the wrong tip, Dan. I don't know nothin' about Silent. I'd
have him in jail if I did!"
"Bart!" said Dan.
The wolf slunk closer to the kneeling man. His hot breath fanned the
face of the sheriff and his lips grinned still farther back from the
keen, white teeth.
"Help!" yelled Morris. "He's at the shanty up on Bald-eagle Creek."
A rumble, half cursing and half an inarticulate snarl of brute rage,
rose from the cowpunchers.
"Bart," called Dan again, and leaped back from the door, raced out to
Satan, and drove into the night at a dead gallop.
Half the posse rushed after him. A dozen shots were pumped after the
disappearing shadowy figure. Two or three jumped into their saddles.
The others called them back.
"Don't be an ass, Monte," said one. "You got a good hoss, but you
ain't fool enough to think he c'n catch Satan?"
They trooped back to the dining-room, and gathered in a silent circle
around the sheriff, whose little fear-bright eyes went from face to
face.
"Ah, this is the swine," said one, "that was guardin' our lives!"
"Fellers," pleaded the sheriff desperately, "I swear to you that I
jest heard of where Silent was today. I was keepin' it dark until
after we got Whistling Dan. Then I was goin' to lead you--"
The flat of a heavy hand struck with a resounding thwack across his
lips. He reeled back against the wall, sputtering the blood from his
split mouth.
"Pat," said Monte, "your hoss is done for. Will you stay here an' see
that he don't get away? We'll do somethin' with him when we get back."
Pat caught the sheriff by his shirt collar and jerked him to a chair.
The body of the fat man was trembling like shaken jelly. The posse
turned away.
They could not overtake Whistling Dan on his black stallion, but they
might arrive before Silent and his gang got under way. Their numbers
were over small to attack the formidable long riders, but they wanted
blood. Before Whistling Dan reached the valley of Bald-eagle Creek
they were in the saddle and riding hotly in pursuit.
CHAPTER XXXV
CLOSE IN!
In that time ruined shack towards which the posse and Dan Barry rode,
the outlaws sat about on the floor eating their supper when Hal
Purvis entered. He had missed the trail from the Salton place to the
Bald-eagle half a dozen times that day, and that had not improved his
bitter mood.
"You been gone long enough," growled Silent. "Sit down an' chow an'
tell us what you know."
"I don't eat with no damned traitors," said Purvis savagely. "Stan' up
an' tell us that you're a double crossin' houn', Buck Daniels!"
"You better turn in an' sleep," said Buck calmly. "I've knowed men
before that loses their reason for want of sleep!"
"Jim," said Purvis, turning sharply on the chief, "Barry is at Buck's
house!"
"You lie!" said Buck.
"Do I lie?" said Purvis, grinding his teeth. "I seen Black Bart
hangin' around your house."
Jim Silent reached out a heavy paw and dropped it on the shoulder of
Buck. Their eyes met through a long moment, and then the glance of
Buck wavered and fell.
"Buck," said Silent, "I like you. I don't want to believe what Purvis
says. Give me your word of honour that Whistlin' Dan--"
"He's right, Jim," said Buck.
"An' he dies like a yaller cur!" broke in Purvis, snarling.
"No," said Silent, "when one of the boys goes back on the gang, they
pay _me_, not the rest of you! Daniels, take your gun and git down to
the other end of the room an' stand with your face to the wall. I'll
stay at this end. Keep your arms folded. Haines, you stand over there
an' count up to three. Then holler: 'Fire!' an' we'll turn an' start
shootin'. The rest of you c'n be judge if that's fair."
"Too damned fair," said Kilduff. "I say: String him up an' drill the
skunk full of holes."
Without a word Buck turned on his heel.
"One moment," said Haines.
"He ain't your meat, Lee," said Silent. "Jest keep your hand out of
this."
"I only wish to ask him a question," said Haines. He turned to Buck:
"Do you mean to say that after Barry's wolf cut up your arm, you've
been giving Whistling Dan a shelter from the law--and from us?"
"I give him a place to stay because he was damned near death," said
Buck. "An' there's one thing you'll answer for in hell, Haines, an'
that's ridin' off an' leavin' the man that got you out of Elkhead. He
was bleedin' to death."
"Shot?" said Haines, changing colour.
Silent broke in: "Buck, go take your place and say your prayers."
"Stay where you are!" commanded Haines. "And the girl?"
"He was lyin' sick in bed, ravin' about 'Delilah' an' 'Kate.' So I
come an' got the girl."
Haines dropped his head.
"An' when he was lyin' there," said Silent fiercely, "you could of
made an' end of him without half liftin' your hand, an' you didn't."
"Silent," said Haines, "if you want to talk, speak to me."
"What in hell do you mean, Lee?"
"You can't get at Buck except through me."
"Because that devil Barry got a bullet for your sake are you goin'
to--"
"I've lived a rotten life," said Haines.
"An' I suppose you think this is a pretty good way of dyin'?" sneered
Silent.
"I have more cause to fight for Barry than Buck has," said Haines.
"Lee, we've been pals too long."
"Silent, I've hated you like a snake ever since I met you. But outlaws
can't choose their company."
His tawny head rose. He stared haughtily around the circle of lowering
faces.
"By God," said Silent, white with passion, "I'm beginnin' to think
you do hate me! Git down there an' take your place. You're first an'
Daniels comes next. Kilduff, you c'n count!"
He stalked to the end of the room. Haines lingered one moment.
"Buck," he said, "there's one chance in ten thousand that I'll make
this draw the quickest of the two. If I don't, you may live through
it. Tell Kate--"
"Haines, git to your mark, or I'll start shootin'!"
Haines turned and took his place. The others drew back along the walls
of the room. Kilduff took the lamp from the table and held it high
above his head. Even then the light was dim and uncertain and the
draughts set the flame wavering so that the place was shaken with
shadows. The moon sent a feeble shaft of light through the window.
"One!" said Kilduff.
The shoulders of Haines and Silent hunched slightly.
"Two!" said Kilduff.
"God," whispered someone.
"Three. Fire!"
They whirled, their guns exploding at almost the same instant, and
Silent lunged for the floor, firing twice as he fell. Haines's second
shot split the wall behind Silent. If the outlaw chief had remained
standing the bullet would have passed through his head. But as Silent
fired the third time the revolver dropped clattering from the hand of
Haines. Buck caught him as he toppled inertly forward, coughing blood.
Silent was on his feet instantly.
"Stand back!" he roared to his men, who crowded about the fallen long
rider. "Stand back in your places. I ain't finished. I'm jest started.
Buck, take your place!"
"Boys!" pleaded Buck, "he's not dead, but he'll bleed to death
unless--"
"Damn him, let him bleed. Stand up, Buck, or by God I'll shoot you
while you kneel there!"
"_Shoot and be damned!_"
He tore off his shirt and ripped away a long strip for a bandage.
The revolver poised in Silent's hand.
"Buck, I'm warnin' you for the last time!"
"Fellers, it's murder an' damnation for all if you let Haines die this
way!" cried Buck.
The shining barrel of the revolver dropped to a level.
"I've given you a man's chance," said Silent, "an' now you'll have the
chance of--"
The door at the side of the room jerked open and a revolver cracked.
The lamp shivered to a thousand pieces in the hands of Bill Kilduff.
All the room was reduced to a place of formless shadow, dimly lighted
by the shaft of moonlight. The voice of Jim Silent, strangely changed
and sharpened from his usual bass roar, shrilled over the sudden
tumult: "Each man for himself! _It's Whistling Dan!_"
Terry Jordan and Bill Kilduff rushed at the dim figure, crouched to
the floor. Their guns spat fire, but they merely lighted the way to
their own destruction. Twice Dan's revolver spoke, and they dropped,
yelling. Pandemonium fell on the room.
The long riders raced here and there, the revolvers coughing fire. For
an instant Hal Purvis stood framed against the pallid moonshine at the
window. He stiffened and pointed an arm toward the door.
"The werewolf," he screamed.
As if in answer to the call, Black Bart raced across the room. Twice
the revolver sounded from the hand of Purvis. Then a shadow leaped
from the floor. There was a flash of white teeth, and Purvis lurched
to one side and dropped, screaming terribly. The door banged. Suddenly
there was silence. The clatter of a galloping horse outside drew
swiftly away.
"Dan!"
"Here!"
"Thank God!"
"Buck, one got away! If it was Silent--Here! Bring some matches."
Someone was dragging himself towards the door in a hopeless effort to
escape. Several others groaned.
"You, there!" called Buck. "Stay where you are!"
The man who struggled towards the door flattened himself against the
floor, moaning pitifully.
"Quick," said Dan, "light a match. Morris's posse is at my heels. No
time. If Silent escaped--"
A match flared in the hands of Buck.
"Who's that? Haines!"
"Let him alone, Dan! I'll tell you why later. There's Jordan and
Kilduff. That one by the door is Rhinehart."
They ran from one to the other, greeted by groans and deep curses.
"Who's that beneath the window?"
"Too small for Silent. It's Purvis, and he's dead!"
"Bart got him!"
"No! It was fear that killed him. Look at his face!"
"Bart, go out to Satan!"
The wolf trotted from the room.
"My God, Buck, I've done all this for nothin'! It was Silent that got
away!"
"What's that?"
Over the groans of the wounded came the sound of running horses, not
one, but many, then a call: "Close in! Close in!"
"The posse!" said Dan.
As he jerked open the door a bullet smashed the wood above his head.
Three horsemen were closing around Satan and Black Bart. He leaped
back into the room.
"They've got Satan, Buck. We've got to try it on foot. Go through the
window."
"They've got nothing on me. I'll stick with Haines."
Dan jumped through the window, and raced to the shelter of a big rock.
He had hardly dropped behind it when four horsemen galloped around the
corner of the house.
"Johnson and Sullivan," ordered the voice of Monte sharply, "watch
the window. They're lying low inside, but we've got Barry's horse and
wolf. Now we'll get him."
"Come out or we'll burn the house down!" thundered a voice from the
other side.
"We surrender!" called Buck within.
A cheer came from the posse. Sullivan and Johnson ran for the window
they had been told to guard. The door on the other side of the house
slammed open.
"It's a slaughter house!" cried one of the posse.
Dan left the sheltering rock and raced around the house, keeping a
safe distance, and dodging from rock to rock. He saw Satan and Black
Bart guarded by two men with revolvers in their hands. He might have
shot them down, but the distance was too great for accurate gun-play.
He whistled shrilly. The two guards wheeled towards him, and as they
did so, Black Bart, leaping, caught one by the shoulder, whirling him
around and around with the force of the spring. The other fired at
Satan, who raced off towards the sound of the whistle. It was an easy
shot, but in the utter surprise of the instant the bullet went wide.
Before he could fire again Satan was coming to a halt beside Dan.
"Help!" yelled the cattleman. "Whistling Dan!"
The other guard opened fire wildly. Three men ran from the house. All
they saw was a black shadow which melted instantly into the night.
CHAPTER XXXVI
FEAR
Into the dark he rode. Somewhere in the mountains was Silent, and
now alone. In Dan's mouth the old salt taste of his own blood was
unforgotten.
It was a wild chase. He had only the faintest clues to guide him,
yet he managed to keep close on the trail of the great outlaw. After
several days he rode across a tall red-roan stallion, a mere wreck of
a horse with lean sides and pendant head and glazed eye. It was a long
moment before Dan recognized Silent's peerless mount, Red Pete. The
outlaw had changed his exhausted horse for a common pony. The end of
the long trail must be near.
The whole range followed that chase with breathless interest. It was
like the race of Hector and Achilles around the walls of Troy. And
when they met there would be a duel of giants. Twice Whistling Dan was
sighted. Once Jim Silent fought a running duel with a posse fresh from
Elkhead. The man hunters were alert, but it was their secret hope that
the two famous outlaws would destroy each other, but how the wild
chase would end no one could know. At last Buck Daniels rode to tell
Kate Cumberland strange news.
When he stumbled into the ranch house, Kate and her father rose,
white-faced. There was an expression of waiting terror in their eyes.
"Buck!" cried Joe.
"Hush! Dad," said Kate. "It hasn't come yet! Buck, what has happened?"
"The end of the world has come for Dan," he said. "That devil
Silent--"
"Dan," cried old Joe, and rushed around the table to Buck.
"Silent has dared Dan to meet him at three o'clock tomorrow afternoon
in Tully's saloon in Elkhead! He's held up four men in the last
twenty-four hours and told them that he'll be at Tully's tomorrow and
will expect Dan there!"
"It isn't possible!" cried Kate. "That means that Silent is giving
himself up to the law!"
Buck laughed bitterly.
"The law will not put a hand on them if it thinks that they'll fight
it out together," he said.
"There'll be a crowd in the saloon, but not a hand will stir to arrest
Silent till after the fight."
"But Dan won't go to Tully's," broke in old Joe. "If Silent is crazy
enough to do such a thing, Dan won't be."
"He will," said Kate. "I know!"
"You've got to stop him," urged Buck. "You've got to get to Elkhead
and turn Dan back."
"Ay," said Joe, "for even if he kills Silent, the crowd will tackle
him after the fight--a hundred against one."
She shook her head.
"You won't go?"
"Not a step."
"But Kate, don't you understand--?"
"I couldn't turn Dan back. There is his chance to meet Silent. Do you
dream any one could turn him back?"
The two men were mute.
"You're right," said Buck at last. "I hoped for a minute that you
could do it, but now I remember the way he was in that dark shanty up
the Bald-eagle Creek. You can't turn a wolf from a trail, and Whistling
Dan has never forgotten the taste of his own blood."
"Kate!" called her father suddenly. "What's the matter, honey?"
With bowed head and a faltering step she was leaving the room. Buck
caught old Joe by the arm and held him back as he would have followed.
"Let her be!" said Buck sharply. "Maybe she'll want to see you at
three o'clock tomorrow afternoon, but until then she'll want to be
alone. There'll be ghosts enough with her all the time. You c'n lay to
that."
Joe Cumberland wiped his glistening forehead.
"There ain't nothin' we c'n do, Buck, but sit an' wait."
Buck drew a long breath.
"What devil gave Silent that idea?"
"_Fear_!"
"Jim Silent don't know what fear is!"
"Any one who's seen the yaller burn in Dan's eyes knows what fear is."
Buck winced.
Cumberland went on: "Every night Silent has been seein' them eyes that
glow yaller in the dark. They lie in wait for him in every shadow.
Between dark and dawn he dies a hundred deaths. He can't stand it no
more. He's goin' to die. Somethin' tells him that. But he wants to die
where they's humans around him, and when he dies he wants to pull Dan
down with him."
They sat staring at each other for a time.
"If he lives through that fight with Silent," said Buck sadly, "the
crowd will jump in on him. Their numbers'll make 'em brave."
"An' then?"
"Then maybe he'd like a friend to fight by his side," said Buck
simply. "So long, Joe!"
The old man wrung his hand and then followed him out to the
hitching-rack where Buck's horse stood.
"Ain't Dan got no friends among the crowd?" asked Cumberland. "Don't
they give him no thanks for catching the rest of Silent's gang?"
"They give him lots of credit," said Buck. "An' Haines has said a lot
in favour of Dan, explainin' how the jail bustin' took place. Lee is
sure provin' himself a white man. He's gettin' well of his wounds
and it's said the Governor will pardon him. You see, Haines went bad
because the law done him dirt a long time ago, and the Governor is
takin' that into account."
"But they'd still want to kill Dan?"
"Half of the boys wouldn't," said Buck. "The other half is all wrought
up over the killings that's been happenin' on the range in the last
month. Dan is accused of about an even half of 'em, an' the friends of
dead men don't waste no time listenin' to arguments. They say Dan's an
outlawed man an' that they're goin' to treat him like one."
"Damn them!" groaned Cumberland. "Don't Morris's confession make no
difference?"
"Morris was lynched before he had a chance to swear to what he said in
Dan's favour. Kilduff an' Jordan an' Rhinehart might testify that Dan
wasn't never bought over by Silent, but they know they're done for
themselves, an' they won't try to help anybody else, particular the
man that put 'em in the hands of the law. Kilduff has swore that Dan
_was_ bribed by Silent, that he went after Silent not for revenge, but
to get some more money out of him, an' that the fight in the shanty up
at Bald-eagle Creek was because Silent refused to give Dan any more
money."
"Then there ain't no hope," muttered Cumberland. "But oh, lad, it
breaks my heart to think of Kate! Dan c'n only die once, but every
minute is a death to her!"
CHAPTER XXXVII
DEATH
Before noon of the next day Buck joined the crowd which had been
growing for hours around Tully's saloon. Men gave way before him,
whispering. He was a marked man--the friend of Whistling Dan Barry.
Cowpunchers who had known him all his life now avoided his eyes, but
caught him with side glances. He smiled grimly to himself, reading
their minds. He was more determined than ever to stand or fall with
Whistling Dan that day.
There was not an officer of the law in sight. If one were present it
would be his manifest duty to apprehend the outlaws as soon as they
appeared, and the plan was to allow them to fight out their quarrel
and perhaps kill each other.
Arguments began to rise among separate groups, where the crimes
attributed to Whistling Dan Barry were numbered and talked over. It
surprised Buck to discover the number who believed the stories which
he and Haines had told. They made a strong faction, though manifestly
in the minority.
Hardly a man who did not, from time to time, nervously fumble the butt
of his six-gun. As three o'clock drew on the talk grew less and less.
It broke out now and again in little uneasy bursts. Someone would tell
a joke. Half hysterical laughter would greet it, and die suddenly,
as it began. These were all hard-faced men of the mountain-desert,
warriors of the frontier. What unnerved them was the strangeness of
the thing which was about to happen. The big wooden clock on the side
of the long barroom struck once for half-past two. All talk ceased.
Men seemed unwilling to meet each other's eyes. Some of them drummed
lightly on the top of the bar and strove to whistle, but the only
sound that came through their dried lips was a whispering rush of
breath. A grey-haired cattle ranger commenced to hum a tune, very low,
but distinct. Finally a man rose, strode across the room, shook the
old fellow by the shoulder with brutal violence, and with a curse
ordered him to stop his "damned death song!"
Everyone drew a long breath of relief. The minute hand crept on
towards three o'clock. Now it was twenty minutes, now fifteen, now
ten, now five; then a clatter of hoofs, a heavy step on the porch, and
the giant form of Jim Silent blocked the door. His hands rested on the
butts of his two guns. Buck guessed at the tremendous strength of that
grip. The eyes of the outlaw darted about the room, and every glance
dropped before his, with the exception of Buck's fascinated stare.
For he saw a brand on the face of the great long rider. It lay in no
one thing. It was not the unusual hollowness of eyes and cheeks. It
was not the feverish brightness of his glance. It was something which
included all of these. It was the fear of death by night! His hands
fell away from the guns. He crossed the room to the bar and nodded his
head at the bartender.
"Drink!" he said, and his voice was only a whisper without body of
sound.
The bartender, with pasty face, round and blank, did not move either
his hand or his fascinated eyes. There was a twitch of the outlaw's
hand and naked steel gleamed. Instantly revolvers showed in every
hand. A youngster moaned. The sound seemed to break the charm.
Silent put back his great head and burst into a deep-throated
laughter. The gun whirled in his hand and the butt crashed heavily on
the bar.
"Drink, damn you!" he thundered. "Step up an' drink to the health of
Jim Silent!"
The wavering line slowly approached the bar. Silent pulled out his
other gun and shoved them both across the bar.
"Take 'em," he said. "I don't want 'em to get restless an' muss up
this joint."
The bartender took them as if they were covered with some deadly
poison, and the outlaw stood unarmed! It came suddenly to Buck what
the whole manoeuvre meant. He gave away his guns in order to tempt
someone to arrest him. Better the hand of the law than the yellow
glare of those following eyes. Yet not a man moved to apprehend him.
Unarmed he still seemed more dangerous than six common men.
The long rider jerked a whisky bottle upside down over a glass. Half
the contents splashed across the bar. He turned and faced the crowd,
his hand dripping with the spilled liquor.
"Whose liquorin'?" he bellowed.
Not a sound answered him.
"Damn your yaller souls! Then all by myself I'll drink to--"
He stopped short, his eyes wild, his head tilted back. One by one the
cowpunchers gave back, foot by foot, softly, until they stood close to
the opposite wall of the saloon. All the bar was left to Silent. The
whisky glass slipped from his hand and crashed on the floor. In his
face was the meaning of the sound he heard, and now it came to their
own ears--a whistle thin with distance, but clear.
Only phrases at first, but now it rose more distinct, the song of the
untamed; the terror and beauty of the mountain-desert; a plea and a
threat.
The clock struck, sharp, hurried, brazen--one, two, three! Before the
last quick, unmusical chime died out Black Bart stood in the entrance
to the saloon. His eyes were upon Jim Silent, who stretched out his
arms on either side and gripped the edge of the bar. Yet even when the
wolf glided silently across the room and crouched before the bandit,
at watch, his lips grinned back from the white teeth, the man had no
eyes for him. Instead, his stare held steadily upon that open door and
on his raised face there was still the terror of that whistling which
swept closer and closer.
It ceased. A footfall crossed the porch. How different from the
ponderous stride of Jim Silent! This was like the padding step of the
panther. And Whistling Dan stood in the door. He did not fill it as
the burly shoulders of Silent had done. He seemed almost as slender as
a girl, and infinitely boyish in his grace--a strange figure, surely,
to make all these hardened fighters of the mountain-desert crouch, and
stiffen their fingers around the butts of their revolvers! His eyes
were upon Silent, and how they lighted! His face changed as the
face of the great god Pan must have altered when he blew into the
instrument of reeds and made perfect music, the first in the world.