by Max Brand
CHAPTER 3
Uncle Jas was completely bowled over. Over against the wall as the doorclosed he was saying to himself: "What's happened? What's happened?" Asfar as he could make out his nephew retained very little fear of theauthority of Jasper Lanning.
One thing became clear to the old man. There had to be a decisionbetween his nephew and some full-grown man, otherwise Andy was very aptto grow up into a sneaking coward. And in the matter of a contest Jaspercould not imagine a better trial horse than Buck Heath. For Buck wasknown to be violent with his hands, but he was not likely to draw hisgun, and, more than this, he might even be bluffed down without making ashow of a fight. Uncle Jasper left his house supperless, and struck downthe street until he came to the saloon.
He found Buck Heath warming to his work, resting both elbows on the bar.Bill Dozier was with him, Bill who was the black sheep in the fine oldDozier family. His brother, Hal Dozier, was by many odds the mostrespected and the most feared man in the region, but of all the goodDozier qualities Bill inherited only their fighting capacity. He fought;he loved trouble; and for that reason, and not because he needed themoney, he was now acting as a deputy sheriff. He was jesting with BuckHeath in a rather superior manner, half contemptuous, half amused byBuck's alcoholic swaggerings. And Buck was just sober enough toperceive that he was being held lightly. He hated Dozier for thattreatment, but he feared him too much to take open offense. It was atthis opportune moment that old man Lanning, apparently half out ofbreath, touched Buck on the elbow.
As Buck turned with a surly "What the darnation?" the other whispered:"Be on your way, Buck. Get out of town, and get out of trouble. My boyhears you been talkin' about him, and he allows as how he'll get you.He's out for you now."
The fumes cleared sufficiently from Buck Heath's mind to allow him toremember that Jasper Lanning's boy was no other than the milk-bloodedAndy. He told Jasper to lead his boy on. There was a reception committeewaiting for him there in the person of one Buck Heath.
"Don't be a fool, Buck," said Jasper, glancing over his shoulder. "Don'tyou know that Andy's a crazy, man-killin' fool when he gets started? Andhe's out for blood now. You just slide out of town and come back whenhis blood's cooled down."
Buck Heath took another drink from the bottle in his pocket, and thenregarded Jasper moodily. "Partner," he declared gloomily, putting hishand on the shoulder of Jasper, "maybe Andy's a man-eater, but I'm aregular Andy-eater, and here's the place where I go and get my feed.Lemme loose!"
He kicked open the door of the saloon. "Where is he?" demanded theroaring Andy-eater. Less savagely, he went on: "I'm lookin' formy meat!"
Jasper Lanning and Bill Dozier exchanged glances of understanding."Partly drunk, but mostly yaller," observed Bill Dozier. "Soon as theair cools him off outside he'll mount his hoss and get on his way. But,say, is your boy really out for his scalp?" "Looks that way," declaredJasper with tolerable gravity.
"I didn't know he was that kind," said Bill Dozier. And Jasper flushed,for the imputation was clear. They went together to the window andlooked out.
It appeared that Bill Dozier was right. After standing in the middle ofthe street in the twilight for a moment, Buck Heath turned and wentstraight for his horse. A low murmur passed around the saloon, for othermen were at the windows watching. They had heard Buck's talk earlier inthe day, and they growled as they saw him turn tail.
Two moments more and Buck would have been on his horse, but in those twomoments luck took a hand. Around the corner came Andrew Lanning with hishead bowed in thought. At once a roar went up from every throat in thesaloon: "There's your man. Go to him!"
Buck Heath turned from his horse; Andrew lifted his head. They were faceto face, and it was hard to tell to which one of them the other was theleast welcome. But Andrew spoke first. A thick silence had fallen in thesaloon. Most of the onlookers wore careless smiles, for the caliber ofthese two was known, and no one expected violence; but Jasper Lanning,at the door, stood with a sick face. He was praying in the silence.
Every one could hear Andrew say: "I hear you've been making a talk aboutme, Buck?"
It was a fair enough opening. The blood ran more freely in the veins ofJasper. Perhaps the quiet of his boy had not been altogether the quietof cowardice.
"Aw," answered Buck Heath, "don't you be takin' everything you hear forgospel. What kind of talk do you mean?"
"He's layin' down," said Bill Dozier, and his voice was soft but audiblein the saloon. "The skunk!"
"I was about to say," said Andrew, "that I think you had no cause fortalk. I've done you no harm, Buck."
The hush in the saloon became thicker; eyes of pity turned on thatproved man, Jasper Lanning. He had bowed his head. And the words of theyounger man had an instant effect on Buck Heath. They seemed toinfuriate him.
"You've done me no harm?" he echoed. He let his voice out; he evenglanced back and took pleasurable note of the crowded faces behind thedim windows of the saloon. Just then Geary, the saloon keeper, lightedone of the big lamps, and at once all the faces at the windows becameblack silhouettes. "You done me no harm?" repeated Buck Heath. "Ain'tyou been goin' about makin' a talk that you was after me? Well, son,here I am. Now let's see you eat!"
"I've said nothing about you," declared Andy. There was a groan from thesaloon. Once more all eyes flashed across to Jasper Lanning.
"Bah!" snorted Buck Heath, and raised his hand. To crown the horror, theother stepped back. A little puff of alkali dust attested the movement.
"I'll tell you," roared Buck, "you ain't fittin' for a man's hand totouch, you ain't. A hosswhip is more your style."
From the pommel of his saddle he snatched his quirt. It whirled, hummedin the air, and then cracked on the shoulders of Andrew. In the dimnessof the saloon door a gun flashed in the hand of Jasper Lanning. It was aswift draw, but he was not in time to shoot, for Andy, with a cry,ducked in under the whip as it raised for the second blow and grappledwith Buck Heath. They swayed, then separated as though they had beentorn apart. But the instant of contact had told Andy a hundred things.He was much smaller than the other, but he knew that he was far and awaystronger after that grapple. It cleared his brain, and his nervesceased jumping.
"Keep off," he said. "I've no wish to harm you."
"You houn' dog!" yelled Buck, and leaped in with a driving fist.
It bounced off the shoulder of Andrew. At the same time he saw thosebanked heads at the windows of the saloon, and knew it was a trap forhim. All the scorn and the grief which had been piling up in him, allthe cold hurt went into the effort as he stepped in and snapped his fistinto the face of Buck Heath. He rose with the blow; all his energy, fromwrist to instep, was in that lifting drive. Then there was a jarringimpact that made his arm numb to the shoulder. Buck Heath looked blanklyat him, wavered, and pitched loosely forward on his face. And his headbounced back as it struck the ground. It was a horrible thing to see,but it brought one wild yell of joy from the saloon--the voice ofJasper Lanning.
Andrew had dropped to his knees and turned the body upon its back. Thestone had been half buried in the dust, but it had cut a deep, raggedgash on the forehead of Buck. His eyes were open, glazed; his mouthsagged; and as the first panic seized Andy he fumbled at the heart ofthe senseless man and felt no beat.
"Dead!" exclaimed Andy, starting to his feet. Men were running towardhim from the saloon, and their eagerness made him see a picture he hadonce seen before. A man standing in the middle of a courtroom; the placecrowded; the judge speaking from behind the desk: "--to be hanged by theneck until--"
A revolver came into the hand of Andrew. And when he found his voice,there was a snapping tension in it.
"Stop!" he called. The scattering line stopped like horses thrown backon their haunches by jerked bridle reins. "And don't make no move,"continued Andy, gathering the reins of Buck's horse behind him. Ablanket of silence had dropped on the street.
"The first gent that shows metal," said Andy, "I'll drill him. Keepsteady!"
He turned and flashed into the saddle. Once more his gun covered them.He found his mind working swiftly, calmly. His knees pressed the longholster of an old-fashioned rifle. He knew that make of gun from toe toforesight; he could assemble it in the dark.
"You, Perkins! Get your hands away from your hip. Higher, blast you!"
He was obeyed. His voice was thin, but it kept that line of hands highabove their heads. When he moved his gun the whole line winced; it wasas if his will were communicated to them on electric currents. He senthis horse into a walk; into a trot; then dropped along the saddle, andwas plunging at full speed down the street, leaving a trail of sharpalkali dust behind him and a long, tingling yell.