Delphi Collected Works of Max Brand US

by Max Brand

  “Then we cut back for home and crossed the marsh. And there we found the Pedlar.

  “Too late to help him. Maybe Donnegan knew that the Pedlar was something of a flash with a gun himself, and he didn’t take any chances. He’d met him face to face the same way he met Joe Rix and killed him. Shot him clean between the eyes. Think of shooting for the head with a snap shot! That’s what he done and Joe didn’t have time to think twice after that slug hit him. His gun wasn’t even fired, he was beat so bad on the draw.

  “So Joe and me come back home. And we come full of questions!”

  “Let me tell you something,” muttered Lord Nick, putting up the weapon which he had kept exposed during all of the recital. “You’ve got what was coming to you. If Donnegan hadn’t cleaned up on you, you’d have had to talk turkey with me. Understand?”

  “Wait a minute,” protested Harry Masters.

  And Joe Rix, almost too far gone for speech, set his teeth over a groan and cast a look of hatred at the girl.

  “Wait a minute, chief. There’s one thing we all got to get straight. Somebody had tipped off Donnegan about our whole plan. Was it the Pedlar or Rix or me? I guess good sense’ll tell a man that it wasn’t none of us, eh? Then who was it? The only other person that knew about the plan — Nell — Nell, the crooked witch — and it’s her that murdered the Pedlar — curse her!”

  He thrust out his bulky arm as he spoke.

  “Her that lied her way into our confidence with a lot of talk about you, Nick. Then what did she do? She goes runnin’ to the gent that she said she hated. Don’t you see her play? She makes fools of us — she makes a fool out of you!”

  She dared not meet the glance of Lord Nick. Even now she might have acted out her part and filled in with lies, but she was totally unnerved.

  “Get Rix to bed,” was all he said, and he did not even glance at Nelly Lebrun.

  Masters glowered at him, and then silently obeyed, lifting Joe as a helpless bulk, for the fat man was nearly fainting with pain. Not until they had gone and he had closed the door after them and upon the murmurs of the servants in the hall did Lord Nick turn to Nelly.

  “Is it true?” he asked shortly.

  Between relief and terror her mind was whirling.

  “Is what true?”

  “You haven’t even sense enough to lie, Nell, eh? It’s all true, then? And last night, after you’d wormed it out of Joe, you went to Donnegan?”

  She could only stare miserably at him.

  “And that was why you pushed me away when I kissed you a little while ago?”

  Once more she was dumb. But she was beginning to be afraid. Not for herself, but for Donnegan.

  “Nell, I told you I’d never let another man come between us again. I meant it. I know you’re treacherous now; but that doesn’t keep me from wanting you. It’s Donnegan again — Donnegan still? Nell, you’ve killed him. As sure as if your own finger pulled the trigger when I shoot him. He’s a dead one, and you’ve done it!”

  If words would only come! But her throat was stiff and cold and aching. She could not speak.

  “You’ve done more than kill him,” said Lord Nick. “You’ve put a curse on me as well. And afterward I’m going to even up with you. You hear me? Nell, when I shoot Donnegan I’m doing a thing worse than if he was a girl — or a baby. You can’t understand that; I don’t want you to know. But some time when you’re happy again and you’re through grieving for Donnegan, I’ll tell you the truth and make your heart black for the rest of your life.”

  Still words would not come. She strove to cling to him and stop him, but he cast her away with a single gesture and strode out the door.

  CHAPTER 42

  THERE WAS NO crowd to block the hill at this second meeting of Donnegan and Lord Nick. There was a blank stretch of brown hillside with the wind whispering stealthily through the dead grass when Lord Nick thrust open the door of Donnegan’s shack and entered.

  The little man had just finished shaving and was getting back into his coat while George carried out the basin of water. And Donnegan, as he buttoned the coat, was nodding slightly to the rhythm of a song which came from the cabin of the colonel near by. It was a clear, high music, and though the voice was light it carried the sound far. Donnegan looked up to Lord Nick; but still he kept the beat of the music.

  He seemed even more fragile this morning than ever before. Yet Lord Nick was fresh from the sight of the torn bodies of the two fighting men whom this fellow had struck and left for dead, or dying, as he thought.

  “Dismiss your servant,” said Lord Nick.

  “George, you may go out.”

  “And keep him out.”

  “Don’t come back until I call for you.”

  Big George disappeared into the kitchen and the outside door was closed. Yet even with all the doors closed the singing of Lou Macon kept running through the cabin in a sweet and continuous thread.

  “What made the ball so fine?

  Robin Adair!

  What made the assembly shine?

  Robin Adair!”

  And no matter what Lord Nick could say, it seemed that with half his mind Donnegan was listening to the song of the girl.

  “First,” said the big man, “I’ve broken my word.”

  Donnegan waved his hand and dismissed the charge. He pointed to a chair, but Lord Nick paid no heed.

  “I’ve broken my word,” he went on. “I promised that I’d give you a clear road to win over Nelly Lebrun. I gave you the road and you’ve won her, but now I’m taking her back!”

  “Ah, Henry,” said Donnegan, and a flash of eagerness came in his eyes. “You’re a thousand times welcome to her.”

  Lord Nick quivered.

  “Do you mean it?”

  “Henry, don’t you see that I was only playing for a purpose all the time? And if you’ve opened the eyes of Nelly to the fact that you truly love her and I’ve been only acting out of a heartless sham — why, I’m glad of it — I rejoice, Henry, I swear I do!”

  He came forward, smiling, and held out his hand; Lord Nick struck it down, and Donnegan shrank back, holding his wrist tight in the fingers of his other hand.

  “Is it possible?” murmured Henry Reardon. “Is it possible that she loves a man who despises her?”

  “Not that! If any other man said this to me, I’d call for an explanation of his meaning, Henry. No, no! I honor and respect her, I tell you. By heaven, Nick, she has a thread of pure, generous gold in her nature!”

  “Ah?”

  “She has saved my life no longer ago than this morning.”

  “It’s perfect,” said Lord Nick. And he writhed under a torment. “I am discarded for the sake of a man who despises her!”

  Donnegan, frowning with thought, watched his older brother. And still the thin singing entered the room, that matchless old melody of “Robin Adair;” the day shall never come when that song does not go straight from heart to heart. But because Donnegan still listened to it, Lord Nick felt that he was contemptuously received, and a fresh spur was driven into his tender pride.

  “Donnegan!” he said sharply.

  Donnegan raised his hand slowly.

  “Do you call me by that name?”

  “Aye. You’ve ceased to be a brother. There’s no blood tie between us now, as I warned you before.”

  Donnegan, very white, moved back toward the wall and rested his shoulders lightly against it, as though he needed the support. He made no answer.

  “I warned you not to cross me again.” exclaimed Lord Nick.

  “I have not.”

  “Donnegan, you’ve murdered my men!”

  “Murder? I’ve met them fairly. Not murder, Henry.”

  “Leave out that name, I say!”

  “If you wish,” said Donnegan very faintly.

  The sight of his resistlessness seemed to madden Lord Nick. He made one of his huge strides and came to the center of the room and dominated all that was in it, including his brothe
r.

  “You murdered my men,” repeated Lord Nick. “You turned my girl against me with your lying love-making and turned her into a spy. You made her set the trap and then you saw that it was worked. You showed her how she could wind me around her finger again.”

  “Will you let me speak?”

  “Aye, but be short.”

  “I swear to you, Henry, that I’ve never influenced her to act against you; except to win her away for just one little time, and she will return to you again. It is only a fancy that makes her interested in me. Look at us! How could any woman in her senses prefer me?”

  “Are you done?”

  “No, no! I have more to say: I have a thousand things!”

  “I shall not hear them”

  “Henry, there is a black devil in your face. Beware of it.”

  “Who put it there?”

  “It was not I.”

  “What power then?”

  “Something over which I have no control.”

  “Are you trying to mystify me?”

  “Listen!” And as Donnegan raised his hand, the singing poured clear and small into the room.

  “That is the power,” said Donnegan.

  “You’re talking gibberish’” exclaimed the other pettishly.

  “I suppose I shouldn’t expect you to understand.”

  “On the other hand, what I have to say is short and to the point. A child could comprehend it. You’ve stolen the girl. I tried to let her go. I can’t. I have to have her. Willing or unwilling she has to belong to me, Donnegan.”

  “If you wish, I shall promise that I shall never see her again or speak to her.”

  “You fool’ Won’t she find you out? Do you think I could trust you? Only in one place — underground.”

  Donnegan had clasped his hands upon his breast and his eyes were wide.

  “What is it you mean, Henry?”

  “I’ll trust you — dead!”

  “Henry!”

  “That name means nothing to me I’ve forgotten it. The worlds has forgotten it.”

  “Henry, I implore you to keep cool — to give me five minutes for talk—”

  “No, not one. I know your cunning tongue!”

  “For the sake of the days when you loved me, my brother. For the sake of the days when you used to wheel my chair and be kind to me.”

  “You’re wasting your time. You’re torturing us both for nothing. Donnegan, my will is a rock. It won’t change.”

  And drawing closer his right hand gripped his gun and the trembling passion of the gunfighter set him shuddering.

  “You’re armed, Garry. Go for your gun!”

  “No, no!”

  “Then I’ll give you cause to fight.”

  And as he spoke, he drew back his massive arm and with his open hand smote Donnegan heavily across the face. The weight of that blow crushed the little man against the wall.

  “Your gun!” cried Lord Nick, swaying from side to side as the passion choked him.

  Donnegan fell upon his knees and raised his arms.

  “God have mercy on me, and on yourself!”

  At that the blackness cleared slowly on the face of the big man; he thrust his revolver into the holster.

  “This time,” he said, “there’s no death. But sooner or later we meet, Donnegan, and then, I swear by all that lives, I’ll shoot you down — without mercy — like a mad dog. You’ve robbed me; you’ve hounded me: you’ve killed my men: you’ve taken the heart of the woman I love. And now nothing can save you from the end.”

  He turned on his heel and left the room.

  And Donnegan remained kneeling, holding a stained handkerchief to his face.

  All at once his strength seemed to desert him like a tree chopped at the root, and he wilted down against the wall with closed eyes.

  But the music still came out of the throat and the heart of Lou, and it entered the room and came into the ears of Donnegan. He became aware that there was a strength beyond himself which had sustained him, and then he knew it had been the singing of Lou from first to last which had kept the murder out of his own heart and restrained the hand of Lord Nick.

  Perhaps of all Donnegan’s life, this was the first moment of true humility.

  CHAPTER 43

  ONE THING WAS now clear. He must not remain in The Corner unless he was prepared for Lord Nick again: and in a third meeting guns must be drawn. From that greater sin he shrank, and prepared to leave. His order to George made the big man’s eyes widen, but George had long since passed the point where he cared to question the decision of his master. He began to build the packs.

  As for Donnegan, he could see that there was little to be won by remaining. That would save Landis to Lou Macon, to be sure, but after all, he was beginning to wonder if it were not better to let the big fellow go back to his own kind — Lebrun and the rest. For if it needed compulsion to keep him with Lou now, might it not be the same story hereafter?

  Indeed, Donnegan began to feel that all his labor in The Corner had been running on a treadmill. It had all been grouped about the main purpose, which was to keep Landis with the girl. To do that now he must be prepared to face Nick again; and to face Nick meant the bringing of the guilt of fratricide upon the head of one of them. There only remained flight. He saw at last that he had been fighting blindly from the first. He had won a girl whom he did not love — though doubtless her liking was only the most fickle fancy. And she for whom he would have died he had taught to hate him. It was a grim summing up. Donnegan walked the room whistling softly to himself as he checked up his accounts.

  One thing at least he had done; he had taken the joy out of his life forever.

  And here, answering a rap at the door, he opened it upon Lou Macon. She wore a dress of some very soft material. It was a pale blue — faded, no doubt — but the color blended exquisitely with her hair and with the flush of her face. It came to Donnegan that it was an unnecessary cruelty of chance that made him see the girl lovelier than he had ever seen her before at the very moment when he was surrendering the last shadow of a claim upon her.

  And it hurt him, also, to see the freshness of her face, the clear eyes; and to hear her smooth, untroubled voice. She had lived untouched by anything save the sunshine in The Corner.

  Her glance flicked across his face and then fluttered down, and her color increased guiltily.

  “I have come to ask you a favor,” she said.

  “Step in,” said Donnegan, recovering his poise at length.

  At this, she looked past him, and her eyes widened a little. There was an imperceptible shrug of her shoulders, as though the very thought of entering this cabin horrified her. And Donnegan had to bear that look as well.

  “I’ll stay here; I haven’t much to say. It’s a small thing.”

  “Large or small,” said Donnegan eagerly. “Tell me!”

  “My father has asked me to take a letter for him down to the town and mail it. I — I understand that it would be dangerous for me to go alone. Will you walk with me?”

  And Donnegan turned cold. Go down into The Corner? Where by five chances out of ten he must meet his brother in the street?

  “I can do better still,” he said, smiling. “I’ll have George take the letter down for you.”

  “Thank you. But you see, father would not trust it to anyone save me. I asked him; he was very firm about it.”

  “Tush! I would trust George with my life.”

  “Yes, yes It is not what I wish — but my father rarely changes his mind.”

  Perspiration beaded the forehead of Donnegan. Was there no way to evade this easy request?

  “You see,” he faltered, “I should be glad to go—”

  She raised her eyes slowly.

  “But I am terribly busy this morning.”

  She did not answer, but half of her color left her face.

  “Upon my word of honor there is no danger to a woman in the town.”

  “But some of the ruf
fians of Lord Nick—”

  “If they dared to even raise their voices at you, they would hear from him in a manner that they would never forget.”

  “Then you don’t wish to go?”

  She was very pale now; and to Donnegan it was more terrible than the gun in the hand of Lord Nick. Even if she thought he was slighting her why should she take it so mortally to heart? For Donnegan, who saw all things, was blind to read the face of this girl.

  “It doesn’t really matter,” she murmured and turned away.

  A gentle motion, but it wrenched the heart of Donnegan. He was instantly before her.

  “Wait here a moment. I’ll be ready to go down immediately.”

  “No. I can’t take you from your — work.”

  What work did she assign to him in her imagination? Endless planning of deviltry no doubt.

  “I shall go with you,” said Donnegan. “At first — I didn’t dream it could be so important. Let me get my hat.”

  He left her and leaped back into the cabin.

  “I am going down into The Corner for a moment,” he said over his shoulder to George, as he took his belt down from the wall.

  The big man strode to the wall and took his hat from a nail.

  “I shall not need you, George.”

  But George merely grinned, and his big teeth flashed at the master. And in the second place he took up a gun from the drawer and offered it to Donnegan.

  “The gun in that holster ain’t loaded,” he said.

  Donnegan considered him soberly.

  “I know it. There’ll be no need for a loaded gun.”

  But once more George grinned. All at once Donnegan turned pale.

  “You dog,” he whispered. “Did you listen at the door when Nick was here?”

  “Me?” murmured George. “No, I just been thinking.”

  And so it was that while Donnegan went down the hill with Lou Macon, carrying an empty-chambered revolver, George followed at a distance of a few paces, and he carried a loaded weapon unknown to Donnegan.

  It was the dull time of the day in The Corner. There were very few people in the single street, and though most of them turned to look at the little man and the girl who walked beside him, not one of them either smiled or whispered.