Comanche

by Max Brand

  The mighty Comanche retreated and lay down, his head on his paws, his reddened eyes constantly on the alert to follow the rancher. Mr. Andrew Apperley was filled with deep wonder to see how quickly and how perfectly this slender young man had reduced Comanche to perfect obedience.

  The thief and gunman rolled upon one elbow—upon his left elbow, leaving, as always, the snaky strength and speed of his right hand unimpeded.

  As Apperley looked into the dull black eyes of the other, he felt suddenly how useless any attempt at subtlety on his part would be, so he simply said: “My brother is playing a very bad part. He doesn’t want you along with him as a guard, he says. He says that he won’t have you at all, except with the feeling that he’s giving you a chance to reform. And you’ll have to take strict orders from him on your behavior.”

  He waited. Not a single alteration appeared in the deep, black eyes of Single Jack.

  “You understand me, Deems. I realize how absurd it all is. I simply want you to know the truth.”

  “What do you expect me to do?”

  “What I expect you to do is to throw over the job, of course. But what I hope that you’ll do is to swallow your pride and go along with David and even let him talk down to you a little.”

  Beyond all the expectations of Apperley, the gunman answered softly, for his voice was rarely raised: “I’ll go along with him and do as you say.”

  “Do you actually mean it?”

  “I do.”

  “I tell you what, Deems, it means the saving of his life, in spite of himself. Then if that’s arranged, you’d better let me have you and David meet for a talk.”

  “Of course.”

  * * * * *

  The attitude of David was particularly difficult, on this morning.

  “When you touch a nettle, grasp it hard,” said David to his brother—and he straightway assumed the most overbearing attitude. It was plain that he wished to establish instantly and once for all that he was to be the master during the days that followed. “During the time that you’re with me, Deems,” David continued, addressing Single Jack, “you’ll take my orders about everything, you understand?”

  It was a volley between wind and water, to be sure. Andrew Apperley turned a little pale. Such a speech to a real Westerner would have been a tolerable excuse for a gun play on the spot. But to Apperley’s amazement, Single Jack’s expression did not alter. He merely nodded.

  “And you’ll keep yourself out of the way of trouble. That’s the main thing.”

  “Very well,” said Single Jack as meekly as could be.

  “In that case,” said David Apperley, allowing himself a smile of triumph in the direction of his brother, “we may get on together.”

  That day they departed for Yeoville, and the stronghold of the king of the rustlers, Shodress.

  They traveled in a wagon, which was swept along by a span of fine horses. They had three saddle horses tethered behind, and their luggage was piled into the back of the wagon. Half a dozen law books were included. With such a meager preparation, young David was prepared to storm the bulwarks of the enemy.

  After he was gone, many doubts possessed the mind of Andrew Apperley. For the last bit of the picture that remained to him was not of his brother and the departing wagon, but of the monster wolf dog that slunk along with them, fifty yards away in the brush. It seemed to him that there was danger, danger, danger lying before the face of his only brother.

  He was not reassured by a note that came back to him two days later.

  Dear Andy:

  I’m here in Yeoville, in the Shodress Hotel. I could have gone to the other hotel, of course, but I thought that by coming directly here, I’d show them that I’m not afraid. Shodress is not in the town. The moment that he arrives, I’m going to see him and lay my cards on the table, face up.

  At least, they’ll have no chance to call me a sneak, in this part of the world. When the first man comes in, accused of rustling, I’m going to push the case through as hard as I can. On the first case of all, depends a good deal. I hope you’ll see to it that the man who is first sent is somebody with a very black case against him. It will be necessary to have the thing very plain before I can get any favorable verdict out of a jury here. You are entirely right. They are all Shodress men, and they hate the very name of Apperley. When I signed on the hotel register, the clerk turned pale.

  In the meantime, I’m in higher spirits than I’ve been for years. This will be a great game.

  As ever,

  Dave

  There followed, as though entirely by afterthought:

  About young Deems. It seems I was right in taking up a firm line with him. No matter what a daredevil he may be considered in the East, in this new environment he does not seem at all sure of himself. He seems rather timid, even shrinking. But he does all that I tell him to do. He asks no questions, and he never answers back. I think I can assure you that the cure is going to work with him. But he seems to me rather a sneaking fellow, and when he’s saved, I wonder if the job will have been worthwhile?

  Over that letter, Andrew Apperley pored with perspiration starting out of his face. It did not seem to him possible that, knowing what was in the past of Deems, his brother could be so extremely obtuse in his treatment of the man. But here were the facts, set down in black and white.

  Everything else in the letter seemed to him in the highest degree foolish and dangerous. To place himself in the Shodress Hotel was literally to abandon all defense. Andrew knew that there was little or no honor in Shodress and many of his men.

  He was on the verge of sending off a hard-riding messenger to call back his brother at once, but this he decided not to do. In the first place, David would probably not answer such a peremptory summons. In the second place, perhaps it was better for the young man to work out his own salvation, and that could not be done without some considerable risk.

  So Andrew set his teeth and resigned himself to waiting.

  Every moment of the day he was filled with worry for his young and inexperienced brother, and for the high explosive in the form of Deems that David was handling with such mad carelessness.

  How long would it be before Single Jack Deems burst out in fire?

  He thought of these things ceaselessly. They wakened him in the middle of the night and fixed his eyes upon the swirling darkness above him. But he had no obvious answers for these riddles, and so he waited.

  In the meantime, he prepared to send up the first rustler so that David could have an opportunity to show his wares as a lawyer in the town of Yeoville, and so score his first defeat. But that first rustler must be one caught absolutely in the act. The word went out from the home ranch of Andrew Apperley to all his men. It was no longer necessary to let the rustlers go. There was now a lawyer to fight the cases through in Yeoville. And he wanted one caught, red-handed, in the act.

  In twenty-four hours he had exactly what he wanted.

  Chapter Eleven

  Two hours after Alec Shodress arrived in Yeoville, David was sitting before him. He introduced himself gravely and stated the purpose of his coming with a becoming modesty and terseness.

  “I’m up here, Shodress, to represent the cattlemen. They’ve found it hard to get a lawyer who’ll honestly push through the cases that they have to present, and I’m here to play that part of the game. I know that you and my brother have been at outs for a long time, and I want to say in the first place that I’m not here as his hired man. I’m on my own responsibility. I don’t intend to try to buy up juries to get convictions. I want to let every case rest on its own merits. I know that you practically own this town and every man in it. And I have to ask you if you’re going to let me have a halfway fair chance, or are you going to begin to block me from the start?”

  Now, that was a speech that David had conned over and over, and, before he spoke it, he felt that it was about all that any man could say with perfect frankness, under the conditions. However, he was not prepared for
the reply that he received from Shodress.

  That gentleman reached out a broad and powerful hand and placed it on the shoulder of his caller. “Apperley,” he said, “I’m glad to have you here. There’s been a long and bad misunderstanding between your brother and me, but there’s no real reason for it. As a matter of fact, there have been a lot of low hounds that’ve gone about to make trouble between us. Why? I’ll tell you in a word. In this part of the range, to be frank, there are two big men . . . Andrew Apperley in the lowlands, and Alec Shodress in the mountains. The little skunks that lie in between us, jealous of both of us, have been carrying tales. They tell me all sorts of yarns about how Apperley has it in for me, and how he’s trying to get me. They go back to Apperley and tell him stories about how I’m the head of the rustlers that are working the herds and cutting off thousands of them every year.

  “Well, sir, I’m an old hand in this country. I know the people, and so I don’t listen to their talk. But Apperley is a newcomer. He doesn’t understand, and he takes the yarns too seriously. He doesn’t stop to think that among other things, I’ve got a cracking big herd of cows, myself, and I’ve got too much property here and there for me to be on any side except the side of law and order. As for having you here in town, why, young man, I’m glad of it. We’ve needed an up-and-coming lawyer for a long time. Perhaps you’re the very fellow for us. Block your game. No, sir, I wish you all the luck that I can give you, and, when you’re in doubt about anything, you come to me and talk things over. I might be able to give you some good advice.”

  Now, as he said this, there was such a kindly light in his little gray eyes, set close under the shadow of his big nose, and such a smile wrinkled the beard that covered his fat cheeks, that David felt half of his suspicions drop away from him on the instant.

  “Well, Mister Shodress,” he said, “I’ve an idea that everything you tell me may be entirely true. At the least, I’m willing to go on that basis.”

  He gripped the hand of the other with all the force in his arm. It was like seizing a rock—such was the power in the hand of Alec Shodress.

  “And as for advice,” said David mildly, “I’m always open to it.”

  “Do you mean that, young man?”

  “I do.”

  “Then let me start off with something that may do you a lot of good. The boys around this neck of the woods are a queer lot, and they don’t like folks that ain’t open an aboveboard. They have a particular dislike to that slim gent that you got along with you.”

  “You mean Deems?”

  “That’s what I mean. They say that he goes soft-footing around the town like he was a cat, or a spy, or something. And yet he doesn’t seem a very nervy fellow, either. No, sir, he’s got a big dog along with him to protect him if he was to get into trouble. But let me tell you, Apperley, that when trouble starts in this part of the world, it strikes like a thunderclap, and dogs ain’t much use, no matter how loud they might bark.”

  David smiled. “Deems is not a bad fellow,” he said patronizingly. “As a matter of fact, I have him here trying to make a man of him. And I think that I may succeed. But I can tell you right away that he’s no spy of mine.”

  A little later, very well pleased with this interview, he went back to his office, for which he had rented a little shack, on the door of which there now appeared the pleasant legend: David Apperley, Attorney at Law.

  He had never had an office before. He had never unsheathed his knowledge of law and used it as an actual tool for the business of life. Now he regretted that he had not begun the work long before. For he could feel new mental muscles coming into play. His heart was lighter than it had ever been, even in the midst of a lion hunt.

  First of all, he felt that he should send an immediate letter to his brother, advising him that Shodress was rather a rough diamond, but that in his heart of hearts he was really a very good chap, and that the mischief between the two of them had apparently been entirely caused by tale carriers. But upon second thought, he assured himself that it would be foolish to send such a letter. Not mere words were to be used upon stubborn Andrew, only the irresistible logic of facts.

  So he was sunning himself in the thoughts of the future, when business suddenly came to the door of his office and stopped there.

  Business came up in the form of seven galloping horses, upon whose backs were seven cowboys. One of those men had his arms tied together and secured to the pommel of his saddle. The others had their hands free and looked as though they were very capable of using the big-handled Colts that projected from holsters at saddle and hip.

  One of these sun-bronzed fellows strode up to the door and stood in the opening.

  “You’re David Apperley?”

  “Yes.”

  “I got something for you. Boys, bring him in.”

  They brought in the man whose hands were tied together.

  “This is Bill Whaley. Got him red-handed stealing cows.”

  “Whaley? Is that the name?”

  “Look here, Apperley,” said the prisoner. “This has gone far enough for a joke. I warn you about that. Just because I was trying out a brand-new cutting horse that I got, these here boys thought that I was running a bunch of cows . . .”

  “Whaley!” snapped the leader of the band.

  “Well?” snarled Whaley, who was a big man, with a large, crooked mouth that now pursed and puckered up on one side of his face.

  “Whaley, tell Apperley that you’re a liar, but that he ain’t a fool.”

  “I’m going to get you for this, Briggs,” declared Whaley savagely.

  “You crooked hound,” said Briggs with enthusiasm and force, “wasn’t it poison to me to have to bring you up here where the law will find a chance of getting you free? But if there was fight in you, why didn’t you offer to have it out with me when I first met up with you? You were afraid, Whaley. You showed yellow. And you’ll show yellow again, if you ever get out of jail. I could eat a salad made out of a dozen swine like you.”

  “One moment,” put in Apperley. “I think that this man should be brought to the jail and taken care of there. You will swear out the warrant and everything in due form . . . and which of you can stay here as witnesses?”

  “I got to stay,” said the leader, “and Johnson ought to stay, too, because he was the first one to sight that gent. He seen all of the early workings. Two eyewitnesses ought to be enough.”

  “I think so. Just start him for the jail.”

  “But after he’s in the jail, who’ll keep him in there?”

  “The bars, I suppose.”

  “The bars, while the keys are in the hands of old Shodress’s gang?”

  “If that’s the case,” said Apperley, “then we’ll watch the jail, and the man that’s in it. Now take him over, if you please.”

  He sat down to smoke a cigarette and think things over. But before five minutes were out, a large form bulked in his doorway. It was Shodress, shouting: “Look here, young feller! There’s been a terrible mistake!”

  “Hello. What mistake?”

  “Why, man, they’ve arrested one of the best men on the range. Known him for years. Clean as a whistle and honest as steel. Bill Whaley. They’ve trumped up a charge against him, and they say that you’re behind the charge, Apperley. I only have to say that I hope that you’re not mixed up in any such business as that.”

  David was rather glad, suddenly, that he had not hurried to send to his brother the letter in praise of Shodress. For the man was swelling with violence.

  “What can I do?” he asked.

  “Do? Why, you’re your brother’s representative. And you can have those fellows withdraw the charges.”

  “As soon as the case comes into court I’ll . . .”

  “Apperley, are you one of those that always wants to go by every legal form? Don’t you stand for any short cuts?”

  “None,” said David quietly.

  “Then, young man, you’re going to get yourself into a gr
eat deal of trouble. You’re not going to last long in Yeoville, I can tell you.”

  “Then I’ll finish soon.” David smiled. “But my present conviction is that Whaley is guilty.”

  “Is that final?”

  “It is.”

  “Then get yourself ready to leave this town, or you’ll have your grip packed for you.”

  Chapter Twelve

  It will be observed that the good nature of Shodress had disappeared completely and one could see nothing except the snarling of the wolf nature that lurked just behind the front door of his fat smiles. He was shaking with rage, and he fairly filled the door with his bulk.

  “I’ve made men like you and smashed ’em,” he told David. “I’ve offered to give you a square deal and a fine start in this town. And you turn around and cut my throat.”

  “I turn around,” said David Apperley, “and ask you to remember that I never begged for your help. As for this fellow Whaley, I’m simply going to use the strictness of the law on him, and nothing else.”

  “Law?” shouted Shodress. “The law of this town I’ve got in my pocket, and I’ll show you that I mean what I say, before I’m through. Apperley, do you really think that you can stay here in Yeoville and stand up to me?”

  It was very patent that young Apperley did think so, and with a vengeance. He merely smiled in the face of the big man.

  “To begin with, to show you what I’m made of, I’m going to snuff out this young sneak that you got around the town, snooping into affairs that ain’t got anything to do with him.” Then he turned in the street and shook his fist back at David. “The jail won’t hold Whaley for a single day!” he yelled.

  To this, David made no reply. He knew that this was a serious matter, and yet he could not help smiling, for Alec Shodress was behaving like a child, and a spoiled child, at that. He had flown into a tantrum, and revealed his plans. What could be more foolish than that? Moreover, he had made the greatest mistake of all in threatening David. Because, in spite of numerous faults, David was neither a fool nor a craven. And all that was best and strongest in him rose up to meet this situation. Yes, he would prosecute Whaley, and he would do it with the last ounce of power in his very soul.