Man From Mustang

by Brand, Max

  Silver heard the voice of Holman saying: “His horse, Edith — he’s giving his horse for me, too — and he’d rather give up half his life than that!”

  Then the girl was suddenly at Silver’s side, holding his arm with both hands, looking not at Parade, but at the master of the horse. She was saying:

  “He’s going to win across. God won’t let him fall! God won’t let him fall!”

  Silver heard her words out of a dream. She believed them, perhaps.

  Parade was coming to the center of the bridge, while the ropes groaned loudly under his great weight, and the wind screeched like an angry fiend as it smote that frail structure. With every gust the huge body of Parade shuddered, and the whole bridge swayed.

  If there were some way to hearten him; if there were something that could be done!

  For Parade had stopped in the very center of the bridge, at last totally overcome by fear. The slight twist of his head to the side made Silver know that the horse had given up hope and was thinking of the way back. Thinking of that — and staggering and swaying, his balance going. And every hair of his golden hide was drenched now with nervous sweat.

  And Silver?

  He broke suddenly forth with a hoarse singing, an old song that has comforted many a night herd when it was bedded down on the trail, a song that Silver had sung more than once when he and Parade were marching through the cold and the wind of some winter evening:

  “Oh, I’m riding down the river,

  With my banjo on my knee;

  I’m riding down the river,

  And no one else with me.

  Strike up that banjo, strike her!

  A song has gotta be.

  Strike up that banjo, strike her!

  That banjo talks to me.”

  As Silver worked into the song, his voice gained a ringing power and struck boldly across the canyon through the wind.

  What meaning had it for Parade? Perhaps it meant for him as much as the touch of his master’s hand on the reins, sending sure, calm messages from the brain of the man to the brain of the horse. For suddenly the stallion was no longer swaying, crouched till his belly almost touched the ropes. He was standing higher; he was moving forward with cautious steps; he was nearing the place where Silver stood with the agony in his eyes and the song on his lips. Now the outstretched hand of the master touched the head of Parade, and now the great horse stood shivering on safe ground!

  The girl threw her arms around the wet neck of the stallion, but Silver merely laid his hand on the broad forehead of the horse and spoke words that had no meaning.

  A moment later the knife of Kenyon had slashed the ropes, and the length of the bridge swished into the air and hung dangling from its moorings on the farther edge of the canyon.

  After that Silver took up one end of the litter, and Harry Bench the other.

  No one spoke. Something like fear was in their faces as they pressed forward among the rocks and the shrubbery, for they felt that they had been privileged to witness a miracle.

  Hardly had the shrubbery closed behind them when they heard the beating of the hoofs of horses and the yells of angry men. The pursuit had reached the end of its tether for that day, at least!

  They went on by slow stages to the end of the day, and so worked through the rough of the mountains to the projecting shoulder of a peak from which they could see foothills sloping down in diminishing waves to the plains beneath. In the sunset time they could see the faint golden sheen of the Tuckaway River, that wound through the level, and the windows of the town of Tuckaway itself glimmer like distant fire for a few moments before the sun went down.

  It was necessary to rest at this point, for though the wounded man endured the pain of travel without a word, he would have to have sleep. It was certain, now, that the bullet had avoided injuring any vital organ; neither had there been any great loss of blood. He was simply weak from shock, and time would be needed for the healing of the wound.

  It was the plan of Ned Kenyon, who knew the whole district perfectly, to leave the mountains before sunrise and trek out into the plains — chiefly because the pursuit would hardly expect such a move, and moreover because he knew of certain obscure shacks here and there where they could lie up with little danger of being discovered. As Kenyon put it: “We’ll sit down right in front of their door, and they’ll burn up their horseflesh combing the mountains for us.”

  The choice of that particular mountain shoulder was largely dictated by a lucky chance, for as they reached the ledge and put down the litter to take breath, a mountain sheep was seen far, far above them, looking out at the sunset. Silver’s rifle clipped that prize through the head, and the sheep came pitching and rolling the great distance down to the flat, where the party waited.

  Food was needed, and this was a prize. Kenyon and One-eyed Harry cut up the sheep rapidly while Silver arranged half a dozen small fires, which he fed with the wood of dead and dry brush. The changing half lights of this time of day would make it very difficult for an eye even close at hand to distinguish the misting breaths of smoke that rose from those small flames, each a mere handful of brightness. And presently there was mutton roasting on wooden spits at each of the fires.

  They had not even salt; they had cold spring water instead of coffee; but ravenous hunger after the day of labor made them eat like wolves. And they were sheltered from observation for this one night, at least. Somewhere, perhaps not a mile away, the men of Kirby Crossing were bivouacking. Or had they turned back and given up the hunt? That was hardly likely — not with Nellihan and Lorens among their number to urge them on. But for this night it was almost impossible that they could close in on their quarry any farther. To-morrow the peril would recommence. This was an interlude of peace to be enjoyed to the full.

  Holman was the amazing man to Silver. With every hour he seemed to be gaining in strength. He ate a share of the roasted meat, and afterward he smoked a cigaratte which Silver made for him. He had been bedded down on a soft pile of pine boughs, and after his wound was washed and fresh pads placed over the bleeding places, and the bandages again drawn into place, he seemed to be suffering no great pain. The girl sat beside him silently. There seemed to be no sky, no earth, no day and no night for them; they looked only at one another.

  Holman tried to express thanks to Silver. He was cut off abruptly.

  “If you’ve got any breath to waste,” said Silver, “use it to tell me that the yarn I’ve heard about you is a lie. You didn’t plan the robbing of the bank with ‘em. What you told in the courtroom was the truth?”

  Silver had discarded his black wig. He had scrubbed away the dark stain on his skin. And now, through the glimmer of twilight, the girl and Holman could see the points of gray in his hair, like an incipient horn growing up above either temple. That suggestion gave him a touch of wildness, and his ragged clothes intensified the strangeness — that and the way the stallion always grazed near by, sometimes coming over to sniff at the master, sometimes lifting a lordly head to study every scent that blew toward them on the wind. It was patent that this man was at home in the wilderness, and that he asked for no better companionship than that of the stallion alone. He seemed to Holman, particularly, like a wild, migratory animal which for a moment was crouched among them, and would presently be gone, no man could tell whither.

  “What I told in the courtroom,” said Holman, “sounded like cock-and-bull, but it was the truth. Truth has a silly face a good many times.”

  “Who was behind that pair of thugs, if you were not?” asked Silver.

  “George Wayland. Buster Wayland.”

  “Who’s he?”

  “He used to be vice president of the bank. Simonson was the president, and Wayland the vice president. Now Simonson is out, and Wayland is the whole thing. He’s the big boss.”

  “You hadn’t robbed the bank of a hundred thousand or so before the safe was opened that night?”

  “How could I have been such a fool?” asked Holman.
“I have money enough of my own. I was working in that bank to get experience. That was all. I wasn’t gambling. I wasn’t buying stocks on a margin. As a matter of fact, my salary was small, but I lived inside of it.”

  “Who did rob the bank, then?” asked Silver.

  “Wayland.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I saw him do it.”

  “When?”

  “One night when they put guns at my head and made me go down to the bank. There were not just the two of them. Wayland was along.”

  “If he wanted to rob the bank, why didn’t he do it without you?” asked Silver.

  “Simonson and I were the only ones who knew the combination that unlocked the safe.”

  “And they picked on you instead of Simonson?”

  “Simonson wouldn’t be apt to rob his own bank. It was in good shape. And besides, Simonson would have fought back. They picked on me because they knew that I was yellow.”

  “That doesn’t wash,” said Silver. “You’re not yellow.”

  “Perhaps not now. But I was then. And Wayland knew it. He’d bullied me in small things, and I had lain down. As a matter of fact, when they put guns to my head, I was so scared that I could hardly move. They had to carry me. When we got to the bank, my hands were shaking so that I could hardly work the combination. But I opened the door of the safe for ‘em — and because of that, I deserved everything that happened to me afterward. Oh, I doubtless deserved even more.”

  “No!” whispered the girl.

  Holman went on calmly: “Wayland had a small interest in the bank, even though he was vice president. He wasn’t much of a banker. And he saw his chance to make a stake for himself. Right there in the bank, they split the loot into three parts. Wayland took one part. The two yeggs took two parts. It was an equal division, except that Wayland took most of the hard cash and gave the others more of the securities. Then the yeggs went on with me. You can see how the scheme would work out. The bank robbed, the door of the safe opened, and with me gone from town, the whole suspicion would point at me. When I was taken, I might shoot my head off accusing Wayland, but he would simply laugh at me. He could depend on the crooks to keep me away for a day or two, he thought.

  “Well, matters went a little differently, but all the better for Wayland. The sheriff, happening by in the middle of the night, after Wayland had said good-by to the thugs and they’d started off with me, made things hard for them. Wayland got back home to his bed, but as he was turning in, the thugs were being run out of the town, and I was carried along by them. They were sticking to the promise they’d made to Wayland to the last. The posse came after us. Finally we got clear, and I saw that I was ruined unless I managed to do something.

  “I got desperate enough to forget some of my fear. The two yeggs despised me. They had reason to despise me, you see. And so I had a chance to get a gun from one of them. I knew a bit about shooting. And I had them by surprise. I nailed them both, and then tried to get away with the loot they’d taken. My idea was that if I could get back to Tuckaway with the money, it would be proof that I’d been innocent. But when the sheriff and the posse hove in sight, I lost my head and tried to bolt again. I played the fool. They caught me. The money was on me, and when I tried to tell my story, I was laughed at.

  “Now see how the thing worked out for Buster Wayland. As soon as I was brought in, he swore that if I had robbed the bank that night, I had been probably robbing it before, and covering up the thefts in my books. They made an accounting and found the bank terribly short. Of course, that was because Wayland still had his share of the loot! When the bank was found short, a run on it started. Simonson had no ready cash. When the funds in the safe were used up, Wayland was in a position to hold a gun to Simonson’s head.

  “Simonson had to see out his shares in the bank for next to nothing. And Wayland simply stepped in and filled the breach with part of the stolen money. It gave him the name of a hero and a public benefactor, too. He wound up owning the bank; he’d established himself as an honest man and a strong one. The big ranchers and mine owners in the district, I understand, have been hauling their accounts out of other banks and depositing with the Wayland Bank in Tuckaway — because Wayland can now pose as the financial giant, the public-minded citizen, the man to whom honesty meant more than hard cash, the fellow who flung his private fortune into the breach and saved the widows and orphans. Simonson died of a broken heart. I was sentenced to die. And Wayland can loll back in his easy-chair and smoke some more of his fat cigars.”

  He ended without raising his voice. He had spoken rather as one who reads a story aloud than as one who tells it. It was almost pitch-dark, and out of the darkness came the voice of Silver, saying:

  “I have to be taking a trip to Tuckaway tonight!”

  Everyone protested, except One-eyed Harry. He said: “I ain’t big enough to try to change his mind. Then how can the rest of you think that you got a chance?”

  Holman said: “But I know the difficulties more than the rest of you. Arizona, let me tell you that Wayland keeps guards about him night and day. He knows how to win the faithful services of crooks, perhaps because he’s such a crook himself. If it were Wayland himself — well, you might do something, though I don’t see what!”

  “I won’t know till I’m on the spot,” said Silver. “But I’m going to Tuckaway. Tell me one thing more. When the posse reached the second of the yeggs you had shot up, he was alive; and as he died, he confirmed the yarn that Wayland was to tell later. Why didn’t he tell the truth as he died?”

  “Because he wanted to be sure that he’d knotted the rope around my neck before he cashed in his chips. I’d killed him; he wanted to be the death of me; and he’d already gone over the story with Wayland in case of need.”

  “That’s all logical,” said Silver.

  He went aside with One-eyed Harry and Kenyon, and said to them: “It’s about an hour’s ride from here to Tuckaway. That means two hours for going and coming back. Besides, I don’t know how long I’ll be in the place. It may be near to sunup before I arrive here again. Be on the watch. Lorens and Nellihan have brains in their heads, and they know how to use ‘em. They’re fighting men, too. And anything that a snake could do, they’ll do. One of you had better keep on watch half the night, and one the other half. Ned, come and step away with me.”

  He led Kenyon aside and found his hand in the darkness.

  “You’re going through hell,” said Silver, “but you’re going through it like a man. I know you’ll put up a fight if the pinch comes.”

  “I dunno,” said Kenyon. “I ain’t much of a fighting man, but I hope I’ll do my best. And it ain’t exactly hell that I’m going through, Arizona. The fact is, it’s like bein’ in the middle of a sort of a sad dream, but not wanting to wake up from it.”

  Silver wrung his hand and went to the girl. She moved slowly beside him through the darkness.

  “Oh, have hope,” said Silver. “There’s luck with us, or we couldn’t have lasted this long.”

  “We’ve had you from first to last,” she answered. “You’ve saved us before, and I can0t help hoping, so long as you’re in the fight!”

  “Perhaps the whole thing is for the best,” he said. “Tell me one thing — were you very fond of Holman before he got into this trouble?”

  “I was always fond of him,” she answered. “But he seemed a little weak and soft. He wasn’t what he’s grown to be. But when I heard what he was accused of, only one thing crashed into my mind — that he’d fought two criminals and beaten them with their own weapons.”

  “I almost knew it,” said Silver. “He never would have discovered himself if the big pinch had not come. And you would never have discovered him, either. There’s Nellihan, though? What about him? Is he as much of a snake as he seems?”

  “The lowest creature in this world!” said the girl. “He was even able to put in my father’s mind some doubts about me — to make it seem best to my fath
er that I should not come into the money till I was married. That was because Nellihan knew that I loved David Holman, that David was sentenced to death, that if he died, I would never marry anyone. Don’t you see? And Nellihan was the next heir.”

  “I understand,” said Silver. “And in a short time he would have found a way to put you out of your misery. I have to leave you. Holman is going to live. Don’t doubt that. And trust everything to Bench and Kenyon. I know how you feel about Kenyon, but I don’t know what else you could have done. You tried to do a small wrong in order to do a great right. But I suppose that sacrificing one man for another is never a good business. However, that thing will be straightened out. Kenyon will do whatever you want. He’ll get a divorce in Nevada, I suppose. And afterward I’ll find ways in which you and Holman can manage to repay him.”

  “If you could do that!” cried the girl.

  “Don’t pity him too much,” said Silver. “He’s having his great chance to be a man just as Holman had his chance. Holman was remade. Kenyon is being remade, too. If he lives through it, he’ll be able to respect himself for the rest of his life. He was simply a goodnatured, haphazard, ramshackle cow-puncher and stage driver before this.”

  “And you?” said the girl suddenly. “What will you gain by all that you’ve done for Ned, for me, for David?”

  “I’m having the fun of it,” said Silver with a faint laugh. ”And the rest of you are having the pain.”

  She did not try to answer him. He went back to Parade, saddled the horse, and rode him to the side of the wounded man.

  “Heads up, Holman?” said he.

  “Clear up in the sky,” said Holman. “Arizona, I’ve tried to persuade you not to go near that devil in his own roost in Tuckaway. I know that you’re going, anyway. But I want to say this last thing: Everything will be harder than you expect to find it!”

  “Thanks,” said Silver. “If you say that a thing is hard, I know that you mean it. But I’ve got to go. Holman, adios! We’ll be together in a luckier time.”