Delphi Collected Works of Max Brand US

by Max Brand

  “Stop ’em!” he cried at last. “It makes me nervous to watch that sort of play. It isn’t natural!”

  “All right,” said Dan. “Stop it, boys.”

  He had not raised his voice, but they ceased their wild gambols instantly, the stallion, with head thrown high and arched tail and heaving sides, while the wolf, with lolling red tongue, strolled calmly towards his master.

  The latter paid no further attention to them, but set about kindling a small fire over which to cook supper. Calder joined him. The marshal’s mind was too full for speech, but now and again he turned a long glance of wonder upon the stallion or Black Bart. In the same silence they sat under the last light of the sunset and ate their supper. Calder, with head bent, pondered over the man of mystery and his two tamed animals. Tamed? Not one of the three was tamed, the man least of all.

  He saw Dan pause from his eating to stare with wide, vacant eyes among the trees. The wolf-dog approached, looked up in his master’s face, whined softly, and getting no response went back to his place and lay down, his eyes never moving from Dan. Still he stared among the trees. The gloom deepened, and he smiled faintly. He began to whistle, a low, melancholy strain so soft that it blended with the growing hush of the night. Calder listened, wholly overawed. That weird music seemed an interpretation of the vast spaces of the mountains, of the pitiless desert, of the limitless silences, and the whistler was an understanding part of the whole.

  He became aware of a black shadow behind the musician. It was Satan, who rested his nose on the shoulder of the master. Without ceasing his whistling Dan raised a hand, touched the small muzzle, and Satan went at once to a side of the clearing and lay down. It was almost as if the two had said good-night! Calder could stand it no longer.

  “Dan, I’ve got to talk to you,” he began.

  The whistling ceased; the wide brown eyes turned to him.

  “Fire away — partner.”

  Ay, they had eaten together by the same fire — they had watched the coming of the night — they had shaken hands in friendship — they were partners. He knew deep in his heart that no human being could ever be the actual comrade of this man. This lord of the voiceless desert needed no human companionship; yet as the marshal glanced from the black shadow of Satan to the gleaming eyes of Bart, and then to the visionary face of Barry, he felt that he had been admitted by Whistling Dan into the mysterious company. The thought stirred him deeply. It was as if he had made an alliance with the wandering wind. Why he had been accepted he could not dream, but he had heard the word “partner” and he knew it was meant. After all, stranger things than this happen in the mountain-desert, where man is greater and convention less. A single word has been known to estrange lifelong comrades; a single evening beside a camp- fire has changed foes to partners. Calder drew his mind back to business with a great effort.

  “There’s one thing you don’t know about Jim Silent. A reward of ten thousand dollars lies on his head. The notices aren’t posted yet.”

  Whistling Dan shrugged his shoulders.

  “I ain’t after money,” he answered.

  Calder frowned. He did not appreciate a bluff.

  “Look here,” he said, “if we kill him, because no power on earth will take him alive — we’ll split the money.”

  “If you lay a hand on him,” said Dan, without emotion, “we won’t be friends no longer, I figger.”

  Calder stared.

  “If you don’t want to get him,” he said, “why in God’s name are you trailing him this way?”

  Dan touched his lips. “He hit me with his fist.”

  He paused, and spoke again with a drawling voice that gave his words an uncanny effect.

  “My blood went down from my mouth to my chin. I tasted it. Till I get him there ain’t no way of me forgettin’ him.”

  His eyes lighted with that ominous gleam.

  “That’s why no other man c’n put a hand on him. He’s laid out all for me. Understand?”

  The ring of the question echoed for a moment through Calder’s mind.

  “I certainly do,” he said with profound conviction, “and I’ll never forget it.” He decided on a change of tactics. “But there are other men with Jim Silent and those men will fight to keep you from getting to him.”

  “I’m sorry for ’em,” said Dan gently. “I ain’t got nothin’ agin any one except the big man.”

  Calder took a long breath.

  “Don’t you see,” he explained carefully, “if you shoot one of these men you are simply a murderer who must be apprehended by the law and punished.”

  “It makes it bad for me, doesn’t it?” said Dan. “An’ I hope I won’t have to hurt more’n one or two of ’em. You see,” — he leaned forward seriously towards Calder— “I’d only shoot for their arms or their legs. I wouldn’t spoil them altogether.”

  Calder threw up his hands in despair. Black Bart snarled at the gesture.

  “I can’t listen no more,” said Dan. “I got to start explorin’ the willows pretty soon.”

  “In the dark?” exclaimed Calder.

  “Sure. Black Bart’ll go with me. The dark don’t bother him.”

  “I’ll go along.”

  “I’d rather be alone. I might meet him.”

  “Any way you want,” said Calder, “but first hear my plan — it doesn’t take long to tell it.”

  The darkness thickened around them while he talked. The fire died out — the night swallowed up their figures.

  13. THE LONG RIDERS ENTERTAIN

  WHEN LEE HAINES rode into Silent’s camp that evening no questions were asked. Questions were not popular among the long riders. He did not know more than the names of half the men who sat around the smoky fire. They were eager to forget the past, and the only allusions to former times came in chance phrases which they let fall at rare intervals. When they told an anecdote they erased all names by instinct. They would begin: “I heard about a feller over to the Circle Y outfit that was once ridin’—” etc. As a rule they themselves were “that feller over to the Circle Y outfit.” Accordingly only a few grunts greeted Haines and yet he was far and away the most popular man in the group. Even solemn-eyed Jim Silent was partial to the handsome fellow.

  “Heard the whistling today?” he asked.

  Purvis shook his head and Terry Jordan allowed “as how it was most uncommon fortunate that this Barry feller didn’t start his noise.” After this Haines ate his supper in silence, his ear ready to catch the first sound of Kate’s horse as it crashed through the willows and shrubs. Nevertheless it was Shorty Rhinehart who sprang to his feet first.

  “They’s a hoss there comin’ among the willows!” he announced.

  “Maybe it’s Silent,” remarked Haines casually.

  “The chief don’t make no such a noise. He picks his goin’,” answered Hal Purvis.

  The sound was quite audible now.

  “They’s been some crooked work,” said Rhinehart excitedly. “Somebody’s tipped off the marshals about where we’re lyin’.”

  “All right,” said Haines quietly, “you and I will investigate.”

  They started through the willows. Rhinehart was cursing beneath his breath.

  “Don’t be too fast with your six-gun,” warned Haines.

  “I’d rather be too early than too late.”

  “Maybe it isn’t a marshal. If a man were looking for us he’d be a fool to come smashing along like that.”

  He had scarcely spoken when Kate came into view.

  “A girl, by God!” said Rhinehart, with mingled relief and disgust.

  “Sure thing,” agreed Haines.

  “Let’s beat it back to the camp.”

  “Not a hope. She’s headed straight for the camp. We’ll take her in and tell her we’re a bunch from the Y Circle X outfit headed north. She’ll never know the difference.”

  “Good idea,” said Rhinehart, and he added with a chuckle, “it’s been nigh three months since I’ve talked to
a piece of calico.”

  “Hey, there!” called Haines, and he stepped out with Rhinehart before her horse.

  “Oh!” cried Kate, reining up her horse sharply. “Who are you?”

  “A beaut!” muttered Rhinehart in devout admiration.

  “We’re from the Y Circle X outfit,” said Haines glibly, “camping over here for the night. Are you lost, lady?”

  “I guess I am. I thought I could get across the willows before the night fell. I’m trying to find a man who rode in this direction.”

  “Come on into the camp,” said Haines easily. “Maybe some of the boys can put you on his track. What sort of a looking fellow is he?”

  “Rides a black horse and whistles a good deal. His name is Barry. They call him Whistling Dan.”

  “By God!” whispered Rhinehart in the ear of Haines.

  “Shut up!” answered Haines in the same tone. “Are you afraid of a girl?”

  “I’ve trailed him south this far,” went on Kate, “and a few miles away from here I lost track of him. I think he may have gone on across the willows.”

  “Haven’t seen him,” said Rhinehart amiably. “But come on to the camp, lady. Maybe one of the boys has spotted him on the way. What’s your name?”

  “Kate Cumberland,” she answered.

  He removed his hat with a broad grin and reached up a hand to her.

  “I’m most certainly glad to meet you, an’ my name’s Shorty. This here is Lee. Want to come along with us?”

  “Thank you. I’m a little worried.”

  “‘S all right. Don’t get worried. We’ll show you the way out. Just follow us.”

  They started back through the willows, Kate following half a dozen yards behind.

  “Listen here, Shorty,” said Haines in a cautious voice. “You heard her name?”

  “Sure.”

  “Well, that’s the daughter of the man that raised Whistling Dan. I saw her at Morgan’s place. She’s probably been tipped off that he’s following Silent, but she has no idea who we are.”

  “Sure she hasn’t. She’s a great looker, eh, Lee?”

  “She’ll do, I guess. Now get this: The girl is after Whistling Dan, and if she meets him she’ll persuade him to come back to her father’s place. She’ll take him off our trail, and I guess none of us’ll be sorry to know that he’s gone, eh?”

  “I begin to follow you, Lee. You’ve always had the head!”

  “All right. Now we’ll get Purvis to tell the girl that he’s heard a peculiar whistling around here this evening. We’ll advise her to stick around and go out when she hears the whistling again. That way she’ll meet him and head him off, savvy?”

  “Right,” said Rhinehart.

  “Then beat it ahead as fast as you can and wise up the boys.”

  “That’s me — specially about their bein’ Y Circle X fellers, eh?”

  He chuckled and made ahead as fast as his long legs could carry him. Haines dropped back beside Kate.

  “Everything goes finely,” he assured her. “I told Rhinehart what to do. He’s gone ahead to the camp. Now all you have to do is to keep your head. One of the boys will tell you that we’ve heard some whistling near the camp this evening. Then I’ll ask you to stay around for a while in case the whistling should sound again, do you see? Remember, never ask a question!”

  It was even more simple than Haines had hoped. Silent’s men suspected nothing. After all, Kate’s deception was a small affair, and her frankness, her laughter, and her beauty carried all before her.

  The long riders became quickly familiar with her, but through their rough talk, the Westerners’ reverence for a woman ran like a thread of gold over a dark cloth. Her fear lessened and almost passed away while she listened to their talk and watched their faces. The kindly human nature which had lain unexpressed in most of them for months together burst out torrent-like and flooded about her with a sense of security and power. These were conquerors of men, fighters by instinct and habit, but here they sat laughing and chattering with a helpless girl, and not a one of them but would have cut the others’ throats rather than see her come to harm. The roughness of their past and the dread of their future they laid aside like an ugly cloak while they showed her what lies in the worst man’s heart — a certain awe of woman. Their manners underwent a sudden change. Polite words, rusted by long disuse, were resurrected in her honour. Tremendous phrases came labouring forth. There was a general though covert rearranging of bandanas, and an interchange of self- conscious glances. Haines alone seemed impervious to her charm.

  The red died slowly along the west. There was no light save the flicker of the fire, which played on Kate’s smile and the rich gold of her hair, or caught out of the dark one of the lean, hard faces which circled her. Now and then it fell on the ghastly grin of Terry Jordan and Kate had to clench her hand to keep up her nerve.

  It was deep night when Jim Silent rode into the clearing. Shorty Rhinehart and Hal Purvis went to him quickly to explain the presence of the girl and the fact that they were all members of the Y Circle X outfit. He responded with nods while his gloomy eyes held fast on Kate. When they presented him as the boss, Jim, he replied to her good-natured greeting in a voice that was half grunt and half growl.

  14. DELILAH

  HAINES MUTTERED AT Kate’s ear: “This is the man. Now keep up your courage.”

  “He doesn’t like this,” went on Haines in the same muffled voice, “but when he understands just why you’re here I think he’ll be as glad as any of us.”

  Silent beckoned to him and he went to the chief.

  “What about the girl?” asked the big fellow curtly.

  “Didn’t Rhinehart tell you?”

  “Rhinehart’s a fool and so are the rest of them. Have you gone loco too, Haines, to let a girl come here?”

  “Where’s the harm?”

  “Why, damn it, she’s marked every man here.”

  “I let her in because she is trying to get hold of Whistling Dan.”

  “Which no fool girl c’n take that feller off the trail. Nothin’ but lead can do that.”

  “I tell you,” said Haines, “the boy’s in love with her. I watched them at Morgan’s place. She can twist him around her finger.”

  A faint light broke the gloom of Silent’s face.

  “Yaller hair an’ blue eyes. They c’n do a lot. Maybe you’re right. What’s that?” His voice had gone suddenly husky.

  A russet moon pushed slowly up through the trees. Its uncertain light fell across the clearing. For the first time the thick pale smoke of the fire was visible, rising straight up until it cleared the tops of the willows, and then caught into swift, jagging lines as the soft wind struck it. A coyote wailed from the distant hills, and before his complaint was done another sound came through the hushing of the willows, a melancholy whistling, thin with distance.

  “We’ll see if that’s the man you want,” suggested Haines.

  “I’ll go along,” said Shorty Rhinehart.

  “And me too,” said a third. The whole group would have accompanied them, but the heavy voice of Jim Silent cut in: “You’ll stay here, all of you except the girl and Lee.”

  They turned back, muttering, and Kate followed Haines into the willows.

  “Well?” growled Bill Kilduff.

  “What I want to know—” broke in Terry Jordan.

  “Go to hell with your questions,” said Silent, “but until you go there you’ll do what I say, understand?”

  “Look here, Jim,” said Hal Purvis, “are you a king an’ we jest your slaves, maybe?”

  “You’re goin’ it a pile too hard,” said Shorty Rhinehart.

  Every one of these speeches came sharply out while they glared at Jim Silent. Hands were beginning to fall to the hip and fingers were curving stiffly as if for the draw. Silent leaned his broad shoulders against the side of his roan and folded his arms. His eyes went round the circle slowly, lingering an instant on each face. Under that cold sta
re they grew uneasy. To Shorty Rhinehart it became necessary to push back his hat and scratch his forehead. Terry Jordan found a mysterious business with his bandana. Every one of them had occasion to raise his hand from the neighbourhood of his six- shooter. Silent smiled.

  “A fine, hard crew you are,” he said sarcastically at last. “A great bunch of long riders, lettin’ a slip of a yaller-haired girl make fools of you. You over there — you, Shorty Rhinehart, you’d cut the throat of a man that looked crosswise at the Cumberland girl, wouldn’t you? An’ you, Purvis, you’re aching to get at me, ain’t you? An’ you’re still thinkin’ of them blue eyes, Jordan?”

  Before any one could speak he poured in another volley between wind and water: “One slip of a girl can make fools out of five long riders? No, you ain’t long riders. All you c’n handle is hobby hosses!”

  “What do you want us to do?” growled swarthy Bill Kilduff.

  “Keep your face shut while I’m talkin’, that’s what I want you to do!”

  There was a devil of rage in his eyes. His folded arms tugged at each other, and if they got free there would be gun play. The four men shrank, and he was satisfied.

  “Now I’ll tell you what we’re goin’ to do,” he went on. “We’re goin’ out after Haines an’ the girl. If they come up with this Whistlin’ Dan we’re goin’ to surround him an’ fill him full of lead, while they’re talkin’.”

  “Not for a million dollars!” burst in Hal Purvis.

  “Not in a thousan’ years!” echoed Terry Jordan.

  Silent turned his watchful eyes from one to the other. They were ready to fight now, and he sensed it at once.

  “Why?” he asked calmly.

  “It ain’t playin’ square with the girl,” announced Rhinehart.

  “Purvis,” said Silent, for he knew that the opposition centred in the figure of the venomous little gun fighter; “if you seen a mad dog that was runnin’ straight at you, would you be kep’ from shootin’ it because a pretty girl hollered out an’ asked you not to?”