by Max Brand
CHAPTER 39
He closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but, though he came to the vergeof oblivion, the voices from the other room finally waked him. They hadbeen changing subtly during the past hours and now they rose, and therewas a ring to them that troubled Andrew.
He could make out their talk part of the time; and then again theylowered their voices to rumbling growls. At such times he knew thatthey were speaking of him, and the hum of the undertone was more ominousthan open threats. When they talked aloud there was a confused clamor;when they were more hushed there was always the oily murmur of Scottie'svoice, taking the lead and directing the current of the talk.
The liquor was going the rounds fast, now. Before they left for theMurchison Pass they had laid in a comfortable supply, but apparentlyAllister had cached a quantity of the stuff at the Twin Eagles shack. Ofone thing Andrew was certain, that four such practiced whisky drinkerswould never let their party degenerate into a drunken rout; and anotherthing was even more sure--that Scottie Macdougal would keep his headbetter than the best of the others. But what the alcohol would do wouldbe to cut the leash of constraint and dig up every strong passion amongthem. For instance, Jeff Rankin was by far the most equable of the lot,but, given a little whisky, Jeff became a conscienceless devil.
He knew his own weakness, and Andrew, crawling to the door and puttinghis ear to the crack under it, found that the sounds of the voicesbecame instantly clearer; the others were plying Jeff with the liquor,and Jeff, knowing that he had had enough, was persistently refusing, butwith less and less energy.
There must be a very definite reason for this urging of Rankin towardthe whisky, and Andrew was not hard pressed to find out that reason. Thebig, rather good-natured giant was leaning toward the side of the newleader, just as steadily as the others were leaning away from him.Whisky alone would stop his scruples. Larry la Roche, his voice aguarded, hissing whisper, was speaking to Jeff as Andrew began listeningfrom his new position.
"What I ask you," said La Roche, "is this: Have we had any luck sincethe kid joined us?" "We've got a pile of the coin," said Jeffobstinately.
"D'you stack a little coin against the loss of Allister?" asked Larry laRoche.
"Easy," cautioned Scottie. "Not so loud, Larry."
"He's asleep," said Larry la Roche. "I heard him lie down after he'd putsomething agin' the door. No fear of him."
"Don't be so sure. He might make a noise lying down and make not a soundgetting up. And, even when he's asleep, he's got one eye open likea wolf."
"Well," repeated Larry insistently, and now his voice was so faint thatAndrew had to guess at half the syllables, "answer my question, Jeff:Have we had good luck or bad luck, takin' it all in all, since hejoined us?"
"How do I know it's his fault?" asked Jeff. "We all knew it would be aclose pinch if Allister ever jumped Hal Dozier. We thought Allister wasa little bit faster than Dozier. Everybody else said that Dozier was thebest man that ever pulled a gun out of leather. It wasn't luck that beatAllister--it was a better man."
There was a thud as his fist hit the rickety, squeaking table in thecenter of the room.
"I say, let's play fair and square. How do I know that the kid won'tmake a good leader?"
Scottie broke in smoothly: "Makes me grin when you say that, Jeff. Tellyou what the trouble is with you, old man: you're too modest. A fellowthat's done what you've done, following a kid that ain't twenty-five!"
There was a bearlike grunt from Jeff. He was not altogether displeasedby this gracious tribute. But he answered: "You're too slippery withyour tongue, Scottie. I never know when you mean what you say!"
It must have been a bitter pill for Scottie to swallow, but he was notparticularly formidable with his weapons, compared with straight-eyedJeff Rankin, and he answered: "Maybe there's some I jolly along a bit,but, when I talk to old Jeff Rankin, I talk straight. Look at me now,Jeff. Do I look as if I was joking with you?"
"I ain't any hand at readin' minds," grumbled Jeff.
He added suddenly: "I say it was the finest thing I ever see, the wayyoung Lanning stood out there in the valley. Did you watch? Did you seehim let Dozier get the jump on his gun? Pretty, pretty, pretty! And thenhis own gat was out like a flash--one wink, and there was Hal Dozierdrilled clean! I tell you, boys, you got this young Lanning wrong. Isort of cotton to the kid. I always did. I liked him the first time Iever laid eyes on him. So did you all, except Larry, yonder. And it wasLarry that turned you agin' him after he come and joined us. Who askedhim to join us? We did!"
"Who asked him to be captain?" said Scottie.
It seemed to stagger Jeff Rankin.
"Allister used him for a sort of second man; seemed like he meant him tolead us in case anything happened to him."
"While Allister was living," said Scottie, "you know I would of followedhim anywhere. Wasn't I his advance agent? Didn't I do his planning withhim? But now Allister's dead--worse luck--but dead he is."
He paused here cunningly, and, no doubt, during that pause each of theoutlaws conjured up a picture of the scar-faced man with the bright,steady eyes, who had led them so long and quelled them so often and heldthem together through thick and thin.
"Allister's dead," repeated Scottie, "and what he did while he was alivedon't hold us now. We chose him for captain out of our own free will.Now that he's dead we have the right to elect another captain. What'sLanning done that he has a right to fill Allister's place with us? Whatjob did he have at the holdup? When we stuck up the train didn't he havethe easiest job? Did he give one good piece of advice while we wereplannin' the job? Did he show any ability to lead us, then?"
The answer came unhesitatingly from Rankin: "It wasn't his place to leadwhile Allister was with us. And I'll tell you what he done afterAllister died. When I seen Dozier comin', who was it that stepped out tomeet him? Was it you, Scottie? No, it wasn't. It wasn't you, La Roche,neither, nor you, Clune, and it wasn't me. Made me sick inside, thethought of facin' Dozier. Why? Because I knew he'd never been beat.Because I knew he was a better man than Allister, and that Allister hadbeen a better man than me. And it ain't no braggin' to say I'm a handiergent with my guns than any of you. Well, I was sick, and you all weresick. I seen your faces. But who steps out and takes the lead? It wasthe kid you grin at, Scottie; it was Andy Lanning, and I say it was afine thing to do!"
It was undoubtedly a facer; but Scottie came back in his usual calmmanner.
"I know it was Lanning, and it was a fine thing. I don't deny, either,that he's a fine gent in lots of ways--and in his place--but is hisplace at the head of the gang? Are we going to be bullied into havinghim there?"
"Then let him follow, and somebody else lead."
"You make me laugh, Jeff. He's not the sort that will follow anybody."
Plainly Scottie was working on Jeff from a distance. He would bring himslowly around to the place where he would agree to the attack on Andrewfor the sake of getting at the wounded marshal.
"Have another drink, Jeff, and then let's get back to the main point,and that has nothin' to do with Andy. It is: Is Hal Dozier going tolive or die?"
The time had come, Andrew saw, to make his final play. A little more ofthis talk and the big, good-hearted, strong-handed Rankin would becompletely on the side of the others. And that meant the impossible oddsof four to one. Andrew knew it. He would attack any two of them withoutfear. But three became a desperate, a grim battle; and four to one madethe thing suicide.
He slipped silently to his feet from beside the door and picked up thecanvas bag which represented his share of the robbery. Then he knockedat the door.
"Boys," he called, "there's been some hard thoughts between the lot ofyou and me. It looks like we're on opposite sides of a fence. I want tocome in and talk to you."
Instantly Scottie answered: "Why, come on in, captain; not such hardwords as you think--not on my side, anyways!"
It was a cunning enough lure, no doubt, and Andrew had his hand on thelatch of the door bef
ore a second thought reached him. If he exposedhimself, would not the three of them pull their guns? They would be ableto account for it to Jeff Rankin later on.
"I'll come in," said Andrew, "when I hear you give me surety that I'llbe safe. I don't trust you, Scottie."
"Thanks for that. What surety do you want?"
"I want the word of Jeff Rankin that he'll see me through till I've mademy talk to you and my proposition."
It was an excellent counterthrust, but Larry la Roche saw through theattempt to win Jeff immediately.
"You skunk!" he said. "If you don't trust us we don't trust you. Staywhere you be. We don't want to hear your talk!"
"Jeff, what do you say?" continued Andrew calmly.
There was a clamor of three voices and then the louder voice of Jeff,like a lion shaking itself clear of wolves: "Andy, come in, and I'll seeyou get a square deal--if you'll trust me!" Instantly Andrew threw openthe door and stepped in, his revolver in one hand, the heavy sack overhis other arm, a dragging weight and also a protection.
"I'll trust you, Jeff," he said. "Trust you? Why, man, with you at myback I'd laugh at twenty fellows like these. They simply don't count."
It was another well-placed shot, and he saw Rankin flush heavily withpleasure. Scottie tilted his box back against the wall and delivered hiscounterstroke: "He said the same thing to me earlier on in the evening,"he remarked casually. "But I told him where to go. I told him that I waswith the bunch first and last and all the time. That's why he hates me!"