The Untamed - Max Brand
The dog, after a glance at his master, moved reluctantly away, keeping
his eyes upon Morgan. Satan backed away with a snort. He stopped at
the command of Dan, but when Morgan laid a hand on the bridle and
spoke to him he trembled with fear and anger. The saloon-keeper turned
away.
"Thankin' you jest the same, Dan," he said, "I think I c'n walk back.
I'd as soon ride a tame tornado as that hoss."
He limped on down the road with Dan riding beside him. Black Bart
slunk at his heels, sniffing.
"Dan, I'm goin' to ask you a favour--an' a big one; will you do it for
me?"
"Sure," said Whistling Dan. "Anything I can."
"There's a skunk down there with a bad eye an' a gun that jumps out
of its leather like it had a mind of its own. He picked me for fifty
bucks by nailing a dollar I tossed up at twenty yards. Then he gets a
hundred because I couldn't ride this hoss of his. Which he's made a
plumb fool of me, Dan. Now I was tellin' him about you--maybe I was
sort of exaggeratin'--an' I said you could have your back turned when
the coins was tossed an' then pick off four dollars before they hit
the ground. I made it a bit high, Dan?"
His eyes were wistful.
"Nick four round boys before they hit the dust?" said Dan. "Maybe I
could, I don't know. I can't try it, anyway, Morgan, because I told
Dad Cumberland I'd never pull a gun while there was a crowd aroun'."
Morgan sighed; he hesitated, and then: "But you promised you'd do me a
favour, Dan?"
The rider started.
"I forgot about that--I didn't think----"
"It's only to do a shootin' trick," said Morgan eagerly. "It ain't
pullin' a gun on any one. Why, lad, if you'll tell me you got a ghost
of a chance, I'll bet every cent in my cash drawer on you agin that
skunk! You've give me your word, Dan."
Whistling Dan shrugged his shoulders.
"I've given you my word," he said, "an' I'll do it. But I guess Dad
Cumberland'll be mighty sore on me."
A laugh rose from the crowd at Morgan's place, which they were nearing
rapidly. It was like a mocking comment on Dan's speech. As they came
closer they could see money changing hands in all directions.
"What'd you do to my hoss?" asked Jim Silent, walking out to meet
them.
"He hypnotized him," said Hal Purvis, and his lips twisted over yellow
teeth into a grin of satisfaction.
"Git out of the saddle damn quick," growled Silent. "It ain't nacheral
he'd let you ride him like he was a plough-hoss. An' if you've tried
any fancy stunts, I'll----"
"Take it easy," said Purvis as Dan slipped from the saddle without
showing the slightest anger. "Take it easy. You're a bum loser. When
I seen the black settle down to his work," he explained to Dan with
another grin, "I knowed he'd nail him in the end an' I staked twenty
on you agin my friend here! That was sure a slick change of hosses you
made."
There were other losers. Money chinked on all sides to an
accompaniment of laughter and curses. Jim Silent was examining the
roan with a scowl, while Bill Kilduff and Hal Purvis approached Satan
to look over his points. Purvis reached out towards the bridle when a
murderous snarl at his feet made him jump back with a shout. He stood
with his gun poised, facing Black Bart.
"Who's got any money to bet this damn wolf lives more'n five seconds?"
he said savagely.
"I have," said Dan.
"Who in hell are you? What d'you mean by trailing this man-killer
around?"
He turned to Dan with his gun still poised.
"Bart ain't a killer," said Dan, and the gentleness of his voice was
oil on troubled waters, "but he gets peeved when a stranger comes nigh
to the hoss."
"All right this time," said Purvis, slowly restoring his gun to its
holster, "but if this wolf of yours looks cross-eyed at me agin he'll
hit the long trail that ain't got any end, savvy?"
"Sure," said Dan, and his soft brown eyes smiled placatingly.
Purvis kept his right hand close to the butt of his gun and his eyes
glinted as if he expected an answer somewhat stronger than words.
At this mild acquiesence he turned away, sneering. Silent, having
discovered that he could find no fault with Dan's treatment of his
horse, now approached with an ominously thin-lipped smile. Lee Haines
read his face and came to his side with a whisper: "Better cut out the
rough stuff, Jim. This chap hasn't hurt anything but your cash, and
he's already taken water from Purvis. I guess there's no call for you
to make any play."
"Shut your face, Haines," responded Silent, in the same tone. "He's
made a fool of me by showin' up my hoss, an' by God I'm goin' to give
him a man-handlin' he'll never forgit."
He whirled on Morgan.
"How about it, bar-keep, is this the dead shot you was spillin' so
many words about?"
Dan, as if he could not understand the broad insult, merely smiled at
him with marvellous good nature.
"Keep away from him, stranger," warned Morgan. "Jest because he rode
your hoss you ain't got a cause to hunt trouble with him. He's been
taught not to fight."
Silent, still looking Dan over with insolent eyes, replied: "He sure
sticks to his daddy's lessons. Nice an' quiet an' house broke, ain't
he? In my part of the country they dress this kind of a man in gal's
clothes so's nobody'll ever get sore at him an' spoil his pretty face.
Better go home to your ma. This ain't any place for you. They's men
aroun' here."
There was another one of those grimly expectant hushes and then a
general guffaw; Dan showed no inclination to take offence. He merely
stared at brawny Jim Silent with a sort of childlike wonder.
"All right," he said meekly, "if I ain't wanted around here I figger
there ain't any cause why I should stay. You don't figger to be peeved
at me, do you?"
The laughter changed to a veritable yell of delight. Even Silent
smiled with careless contempt.
"No, kid," he answered, "if I was peeved at you, you'd learn it
without askin' questions."
He turned slowly away.
"Maybe I got jaundice, boys," he said to the crowd, "but it seems to
me I see something kind of yellow around here!"
The delightful subtlety of this remark roused another side-shaking
burst of merriment. Dan shook his head as if the mystery were beyond
his comprehension, and looked to Morgan for an explanation. The
saloon-keeper approached him, struggling with a grin.
"It's all right, Dan," he said. "Don't let 'em rile you."
"You ain't got any cause to fear that," said Silent, "because it can't
be done."
CHAPTER V
FOUR IN THE AIR
Dan looked from Morgan to Silent and back again for understanding.
He felt that something was wrong, but what it was he had not the
slightest idea. For many years old Joe Cumberland had patiently taught
him that the last offence against God and man was to fight. The old
cattleman had instilled in him the belief that if he did not cross the
path of another, no one would cross his way. The code was perfect
and satisfying. He would let the world alone and the world would not
trouble him. The placid current of his life had never come to "white
waters" of wrath.
Wherefore he gazed bewildered about him. They were laughing--they were
laughing unpleasantly at him as he had seen men laugh at a fiery young
colt which struggled against the rope. It was very strange. They could
not mean harm. Therefore he smiled back at them rather uncertainly.
Morgan slapped at his shoulder by way of good-fellowship and to
hearten him, but Dan slipped away under the extended hand with a
motion as subtle and swift as the twist of a snake when it flees for
its hole. He had a deep aversion for contact with another man's body.
He hated it as the wild horse hates the shadow of the flying rope.
"Steady up, pal," said Morgan, "the lads mean no harm. That tall man
is considerable riled; which he'll now bet his sombrero agin you when
it comes to shootin'."
He turned back to Silent.
"Look here, partner," he said, "this is the man I said could nail the
four dollars before they hit the dust. I figger you don't think how it
can be done, eh?"
"Him?" said Silent in deep disgust. "Send him back to his ma before
somebody musses him all up! Why, he don't even pack a gun!"
Morgan waited a long moment so that the little silence would make his
next speech impressive.
"Stranger," he said, "I've still got somewhere in the neighbourhood of
five hundred dollars in that cash drawer. An' every cent of it hollers
that Dan can do what I said."
Silent hesitated. His code was loose, but he did not like to take
advantage of a drunk or a crazy man. However, five hundred dollars was
five hundred dollars. Moreover that handsome fellow who had just taken
water from Hal Purvis and was now smiling foolishly at his own shame,
had actually ridden Red Peter. The remembrance infuriated Silent.
"Hurry up," said Morgan confidently. "I dunno what you're thinkin',
stranger. Which I'm kind of deaf an' I don't understand the way
anything talks except money."
"Corral that talk, Morgan!" called a voice from the crowd, "you're
plumb locoed if you think any man in the world can get away with a
stunt like that! Pick four in the air!"
"You keep your jaw for yourself," said Silent angrily, "if he wants to
donate a little more money to charity, let him do it. Morgan, I've got
five hundred here to cover your stake."
"Make him give you odds, Morgan," said another voice, "because----"
A glance from Silent cut the suggestion short. After that there was
little loud conversation. The stakes were large. The excitement made
the men hush the very tones in which they spoke. Morgan moistened his
white lips.
"You c'n see I'm not packin' any shootin' irons," said Dan. "Has
anybody got any suggestions?"
Every gun in the crowd was instantly at his service. They were
heartily tempted to despise Dan, but as one with the courage to
attempt the impossible, they would help him as far as they could. He
took their guns one after the other, weighed them, tried the action,
and handed them back. It was almost as if there were a separate
intelligence in the ends of his fingers which informed him of the
qualities of each weapon.
"Nice gun," he said to the first man whose revolver he handled, "but I
don't like a barrel that's quite so heavy. There's a whole ounce too
much in the barrel."
"What d'you mean?" asked the cowpuncher. "I've packed that gun for
pretty nigh eight years!"
"Sorry," said Dan passing on, "but I can't work right with a top-heavy
gun."
The next weapon he handed back almost at once.
"What's the matter with that?" asked the owner aggressively.
"Cylinder too tight," said Dan decisively, and a moment later to
another man, "Bad handle. I don't like the feel of it."
Over Jim Silent's guns he paused longer than over most of the rest,
but finally he handed them back. The big man scowled.
Dan looked back to him in gentle surprise.
"You see," he explained quietly, "you got to handle a gun like a
horse. If you don't treat it right it won't treat you right. That's
all I know about it. Your gun ain't very clean, stranger, an' a gun
that ain't kept clean gets off feet."
Silent glanced at his weapons, cursed softly, and restored them to the
holsters.
"Lee," he muttered to Haines, who stood next to him, "what do you
think he meant by that? D' you figger he's got somethin' up his
sleeve, an' that's why he acts so like a damned woman?"
"I don't know," said Haines gravely, "he looks to me sort of
queer--sort of different--damned different, chief!"
By this time Dan had secured a second gun which suited him. He whirled
both guns, tried their actions alternately, and then announced that he
was ready. In the dead silence, one of the men paced off the twenty
yards.
Dan, with his back turned, stood at the mark, shifting his revolvers
easily in his hands, and smiling down at them as if they could
understand his caress.
"How you feelin', Dan?" asked Morgan anxiously.
"Everything fine," he answered.
"Are you gettin' weak?"
"No, I'm all right."
"Steady up, partner."
"Steady up? Look at my hand!"
Dan extended his arm. There was not a quiver in it.
"All right, Dan. When you're shootin', remember that I got pretty
close to everything I own staked on you. There's the stranger gettin'
his four dollars ready."
Silent took his place with the four dollars in his hand.
"Are you ready?" he called.
"Let her go!" said Dan, apparently without the least excitement.
Jim Silent threw the coins, and he threw them so as to increase his
chances as much as possible. A little snap of his hand gave them a
rapid rotary motion so that each one was merely a speck of winking
light. He flung them high, for it was probable that Whistling Dan
would wait to shoot until they were on the way down. The higher he
threw them the more rapidly they would be travelling when they crossed
the level of the markman's eye.
As a shout proclaimed the throwing of the coins, Dan whirled, and it
seemed to the bystanders that a revolver exploded before he was fully
turned; but one of the coins never rose to the height of the throw.
There was a light "cling!" and it spun a dozen yards away. Two more
shots blended almost together; two more dollars darted away in
twinkling streaks of light. One coin still fell, but when it was a
few inches from the earth a six-shooter barked again and the fourth
dollar glanced sidewise into the dust. It takes long to describe the
feat. Actually, the four shots consumed less than a second of time.
"That last dollar," said Dan, and his soft voice was the first sound
out of the silence, "wasn't good. It didn't ring true. Counterfeit?"
It seemed that no one heard his words. The men were making a wild
scramble for the dollars. They dived into the dust for them, rising
white of face and clothes to fight and struggle over their prizes.
Those dollars with the chips and neat round holes in them would
confirm the truth of a story that the most credulous might be tempted
to laugh or scorn. A cowpuncher offered ten dollars for one of the
relics--but none would part with a prize.
The moment the shooting was over Dan stepped quietly back and restored
the guns to the owners. The first man seized his weapon carelessly. He
was in the midst of his rush after one of the chipped coins. The other
cowpuncher received his weapon almost with reverence.
"I'm thankin' you for the loan," said Dan, "an here's hopin' you
always have luck with the gun."
"Luck?" said the other. "I sure _will_ have luck with it. I'm goin'
to oil her up and put her in a glass case back home, an' when I get
grandchildren I'm goin' to point out that gun to 'em and tell 'em what
men used to do in the old days. Let's go in an' surround some red-eye
at my expense."
"No thanks," answered Dan, "I ain't drinkin'."
He stepped back to the edge of the circle and folded his arms. It was
as if he had walked out of the picture. He suddenly seemed to be aloof
from them all.
Out of the quiet burst a torrent of curses, exclamations, and shouts.
Chance drew Jim Silent and his three followers together.
"My God!" whispered Lee Haines, with a sort of horror in his voice,
"it wasn't human! Did you see? Did you see?"
"Am I blind?" asked Hal Purvis, "an' think of me walkin' up an'
bracin' that killer like he was a two-year-old kid! I figger that's
the nearest I ever come to a undeserved grave, an' I've had some close
calls! 'That last dollar wasn't good! It didn't ring true,' says he
when he finished. I never seen such nerve!"
"You're wrong as hell," said Silent, "a _woman_ can shoot at a target,
but it takes a cold _nerve_ to shoot at a man--an' this feller is
yellow all through!"
"Is he?" growled Bill Kilduff, "well, I'd hate to take him by
surprise, so's he'd forget himself. He gets as much action out of a
common six-gun as if it was a gatling. He was right about that last
dollar, too. It was pure--lead!"
"All right, Haines," said Silent. "You c'n start now any time, an'
the rest of us'll follow on the way I said. I'm leavin' last. I got a
little job to finish up with the kid."
But Haines was staring fixedly down the road.
"I'm not leaving yet," said Haines. "Look!"
He turned to one of the cowpunchers.
"Who's the girl riding up the road, pardner?"
"That calico? She's Kate Cumberland--old Joe's gal."
"I like the name," said Haines. "She sits the saddle like a man!"
Her pony darted off from some imaginary object in the middle of the
road, and she swayed gracefully, following the sudden motion. Her
mount came to the sudden halt of the cattle pony and she slipped to
the ground before Morgan could run out to help. Even Lee Haines, who
was far quicker, could not reach her in time.
"Sorry I'm late," said Haines. "Shall I tie your horse?"
The fast ride had blown colour to her face and good spirits into her
eyes. She smiled up to him, and as she shook her head in refusal her
eyes lingered a pardonable moment on his handsome face, with the stray
lock of tawny hair fallen low across his forehead. She was used to
frank admiration, but this unembarrassed courtesy was a new world to
her. She was still smiling when she turned to Morgan.
"You told my father the boys wouldn't wear guns today."
He was somewhat confused.
"They seem to be wearin' them," he said weakly, and his eyes wandered
about the armed circle, pausing on the ominous forms of Hal Purvis,
Bill Kilduff, and especially Jim Silent, a head taller than the rest.
He stood somewhat in the background, but the slight sneer with which
he watched Whistling Dan dominated the entire picture.
"As a matter of fact," went on Morgan, "it would be a ten man job to
take the guns away from this crew. You can see for yourself."
She glanced about the throng and started. She had seen Dan.
"How did he come here?"
"Oh, Dan?" said Morgan, "he's all right. He just pulled one of the
prettiest shootin' stunts I ever seen."
"But he promised my father--" began Kate, and then stopped, flushing.
If her father was right in diagnosing Dan's character, this was the
most critical day in his life, for there he stood surrounded by armed
men. If there were anything wild in his nature it would be brought out
that day. She was almost glad the time of trial had come.
She said: "How about the guns, Mr. Morgan?"
"If you want them collected and put away for a while," offered Lee
Haines, "I'll do what I can to help you!"
Her smile of thanks set his blood tingling. His glance lingered a
little too long, a little too gladly, and she coloured slightly.
"Miss Cumberland," said Haines, "may I introduce myself? My name is
Lee."
She hesitated. The manners she had learned in the Eastern school
forbade it, but her Western instinct was truer and stronger. Her hand
went out to him.
"I'm very glad to know you, Mr. Lee."
"All right, stranger," said Morgan, who in the meantime had been
shifting from one foot to the other and estimating the large chances
of failure in this attempt to collect the guns, "if you're going to
help me corral the shootin' irons, let's start the roundup."
The girl went with them. They had no trouble in getting the weapons.
The cold blue eye of Lee Haines was a quick and effective persuasion.
When they reached Jim Silent he stared fixedly upon Haines. Then he
drew his guns slowly and presented them to his comrade, while his eyes
shifted to Kate and he said coldly: "Lady, I hope I ain't the last one
to congratulate you!"
She did not understand, but Haines scowled and coloured. Dan, in the
meantime, was swept into the saloon by an influx of the cowpunchers
that left only Lee Haines outside with Kate. She had detained him with
a gesture.
CHAPTER VI
LAUGHTER
"Mr. Lee," she said, "I am going to ask you to do me a favour. Will
you?"
His smile was a sufficient answer, and it was in her character that
she made no pretext of misunderstanding it.
"You have noticed Dan among the crowd?" she asked, "Whistling Dan?"
"Yes," he said, "I saw him do some very nice shooting."
"It's about him that I want to speak to you. Mr. Lee, he knows very
little about men and their ways. He is almost a child among them. You
seem--stronger--than most of the crowd here. Will you see that if
trouble comes he is not imposed upon?"
She flushed a little, there was such a curious yearning in the eyes of
the big man.
"If you wish it," he said simply, "I will do what I can."
As he walked beside her towards her horse, she turned to him abruptly.
"You are very different from the men I have met around here," she
said.
"I am glad," he answered.
"Glad?"
"If you find me different, you will remember me, whether for better or
worse."
He spoke so earnestly that she grew grave. He helped her to the saddle
and she leaned a little to study him with the same gentle gravity.
"I should like to see you again, Mr. Lee," she said, and then in a
little outburst, "I should like to see you a _lot!_ Will you come to
my house sometime?"
The directness, the sudden smile, made him flinch. His voice was a
trifle unsteady when he replied.
"I _shall!_" He paused and his hand met hers. "If it is possible."
Her eyebrows raised a trifle.
"Is it so hard to do?"
"Do not ask me to explain," he said, "I am riding a long way."
"Oh, a 'long-rider'!" she laughed, "then of course--" She stopped
abruptly. It may have been imagination, but he seemed to start when
she spoke the phrase by which outlaws were known to each other. He was
forcing his eyes to meet hers.
He said slowly: "I am going on a long journey. Perhaps I will come
back. If I am able to, I shall."
He dropped his hand from hers and she remained silent, guessing at
many things, and deeply moved, for every woman knows when a man speaks
from his soul.
"You will not forget me?"
"I shall never forget you," she answered quietly. "Good-bye, Mr. Lee!"
Her hand touched his again, she wheeled, and rode away. He remained
standing with the hand she had grasped still raised. And after a
moment, as he had hoped, she turned in the saddle and waved to him.
His eyes were downward and he was smiling faintly when he re-entered
the saloon.
Silent sat at a table with his chin propped in his hand--his left
hand, of course, for that restless right hand must always be free. He
stared across the room towards Whistling Dan. The train of thoughts
which kept those ominous eyes so unmoving must be broken. He sat down
at the side of his chief.
"What the hell?" said the big man, "ain't you started yet?"
"Look here, Jim," said Haines cautiously, "I want you to lay off on
this kid, Whistling Dan. It won't meant anything to you to raise the
devil with him."
"I tell you," answered Silent, "it'll please me more'n anything in the
world to push that damned girl face of his into the floor."
"Silent, I'm asking a personal favour of you!"
The leader turned upon him that untamed stare. Haines set his teeth.
"Haines," came the answer, "I'll stand more from you than from any man
alive. I know you've got guts an' I know you're straight with me.
But there ain't anything can keep me from manhandlin' that kid over
there." He opened and shut his fingers slowly. "I sort of yearn to get
at him!"
Haines recognized defeat.
"But you haven't another gun hidden on you, Jim? You won't try to
shoot him up?"
"No," said Silent. "If I had a gun I don't know--but I haven't a gun.
My hands'll be enough!"
All that could be done now was to get Whistling Dan out of the saloon.
That would be simple. A single word would suffice to send the timid
man helter-skelter homewards.
The large, lazy brown eyes turned up to Haines as the latter
approached.
"Dan," he said, "hit for the timbers--get on your way--there's danger
here for you!"
To his astonishment the brown eyes did not vary a shade.
"Danger?" he repeated wonderingly.
"Danger! Get up and get out if you want to save your hide!"
"What's the trouble?" said Dan, and his eyes were surprised, but not
afraid.
"The biggest man in this room is after your blood."
"Is he?" said Dan wonderingly. "I'm sorry I don't feel like leavin',
but I'm not tired of this place yet."
"Friend," said Haines, "if that tall man puts his hands on you, he'll
break you across his knee like a rotten stick of wood!"
It was too late. Silent evidently guessed that Haines was urging his
quarry to flee.
"Hey!" he roared, so that all heads turned towards him, "you over
there."
Haines stepped back, sick at heart. He knew that it would be folly to
meet his chief hand to hand, but he thought of his pledge to Kate, and
groaned.
"What do you want of me?" asked Dan, for the pointed arm left no doubt
as to whom Silent intended.
"Get up when you're spoke to" cried Silent. "Ain't you learned no
manners? An' git up quick!"
Dan rose, smiling his surprise.
"Your friend has a sort of queer way of talkin'," he said to Haines.
"Don't stan' there like a fool. Trot over to the bar an' git me a jolt
of red-eye. I'm dry!" thundered Silent.
"Sure!" nodded Whistling Dan amiably, "glad to!" and he went
accordingly towards the bar.
The men about the room looked to each other with sick smiles.
There was an excuse for acquiescence, for the figure of Jim Silent
contrasted with Whistling Dan was like an oak compared with a sapling.
Nevertheless such bland cowardice as Dan was showing made their flesh
creep. He asked at the bar for the whisky, and Morgan spoke as Dan
filled a glass nearly to the brim.