by Max Brand
CHAPTER IX
THE PHANTOM RIDER
In the daytime the willows along the wide, level river bottom seemedan unnatural growth, for they made a streak of yellow-green acrossthe mountain-desert when all other verdure withered and died. Afternightfall they became still more dreary. Even when the air was calmthere was apt to be a sound as of wind, for the tenuous, trailingbranches brushed lightly together, making a guarded whispering likeghosts.
In a small clearing among these willows sat Silent and his companions.A fifth member had just arrived at this rendezvous, answered the quietgreeting with a wave of his hand, and was now busy caring for hishorse. Bill Kilduff, who had a natural inclination and talent forcookery, raked up the deft dying coals of the fire over which he hadcooked the supper, and set about preparing bacon and coffee for thenewcomer. The latter came forward, and squatted close to the cook,watching the process with a careful eye. He made a sharp contrast withthe rest of the group. From one side his profile showed the face ofa good-natured boy, but when he turned his head the flicker of thefirelight ran down a scar which gleamed in a jagged semi-circle fromhis right eyebrow to the corner of his mouth. This whole side of hiscountenance was drawn by the cut, the mouth stretching to a perpetualgrimace. When he spoke it was as if he were attempting secrecy. Therest of the men waited in patience until he finished eating. ThenSilent asked: "What news, Jordan?"
Jordan kept his regretful eyes a moment longer on his empty coffeecup.
"There ain't a pile to tell," he answered at last. "I suppose youheard about what happened to the chap you beat up at Morgan's placethe other day?"
"Who knows that _I_ beat him up?" asked Silent sharply.
"Nobody," said Jordan, "but when I heard the description of the manthat hit Whistling Dan with the chair, I knew it was Jim Silent."
"What about Barry?" asked Haines, but Jordan still kept his eyes uponthe chief.
"They was sayin' pretty general," he went on, "that you _needed_ thatchair, Jim. Is that right?"
The other three glanced covertly to each other. Silent's hand bunchedinto a great fist.
"He went loco. I had to slam him. Was he hurt bad?"
"The cut on his head wasn't much, but he was left lyin' in the saloonthat night, an' the next mornin' old Joe Cumberland, not knowin' thatWhistlin' Dan was in there, come down an' touched a match to the oldjoint. She went up in smoke an' took Dan along."
No one spoke for a moment. Then Silent cried out: "Then what was thatwhistlin' I've heard down the road behind us?"
Bill Kilduff broke into rolling bass laughter, and Hal Purvis chimedin with a squeaking tenor.
"We told you all along, Jim," said Purvis, as soon as he could controlhis voice, "that there wasn't any whistlin' behind us. We know yougot powerful good hearin', Jim, but we all figger you been makin'somethin' out of nothin'. Am I right, boys?"
"You sure are," said Kilduff, "I ain't heard a thing."
Silent rolled his eyes angrily from face to face.
"I'm kind of sorry the lad got his in the fire. I was hopin' maybewe'd meet agin. There's nothin' I'd rather do than be alone fiveminutes with Whistlin' Dan."
His eyes dared any one to smile. The men merely exchanged glances.When he turned away they grinned broadly. Hal Purvis turned and caughtBill Kilduff by the shoulder.
"Bill," he said excitedly, "if Whistlin' Dan is dead there ain't anymaster for that dog!"
"What about him?" growled Kilduff.
"I'd like to try my hand with him," said Purvis, and he moistened histight lips. "Did you see the black devil when he snarled at me infront of Morgan's place?"
"He sure didn't look too pleasant."
"Right. Maybe if I had him on a chain I could change his manners some,eh?"
"How?"
"A whip every day, damn him--a whip every time he showed his teeth atme. No eats till he whined and licked my hand."
"He'd die first. I know that kind of a dog--or a wolf."
"Maybe he'd die. Anyway I'd like to try my hand with him. Bill, I'mgoin' to get hold of him some of these days if I have to ride ahundred miles an' swim a river!"
Kilduff grunted.
"Let the damn wolf be. You c'n have him, I say. What I'm thinkin'about is the hoss. Hal, do you remember the way he settled to hisstride when he lighted out after Red Pete?"
Purvis shrugged his shoulders.
"You're a fool, Bill. Which no man but Barry could ever ride thathoss. I seen it in his eye. He'd cash in buckin'. He'd fight you likea man."
Kilduff sighed. A great yearning was in his eyes.
"Hal," he said softly, "they's some men go around for years an'huntin' for a girl whose picture is in their bean, cached awaysomewhere. When they see her they jest nacherally goes nutty. Hal, Idon't give a damn for women folk, but I've travelled around a longtime with a picture of a hoss in my brain, an' Satan is the hoss."
He closed his eyes.
"I c'n see him now. I c'n see them shoulders--an' that head--an', myGod! them eyes--them fire eatin' eyes! Hal, if a man was to win theheart of that hoss he'd lay down his life for you--he'd run himselfplumb to death! I won't never sleep tight till I get the feel of themsatin sides of his between my knees."
Lee Haines heard them speak, but he said nothing. His heart alsoleaped when he heard of Whistling Dan's death, but he thought neitherof the horse nor the dog. He was seeing the yellow hair and the blueeyes of Kate Cumberland. He approached Jordan and took a place besidehim.
"Tell me some more about it, Terry," he asked.
"Some more about what?"
"About Whistling Dan's death--about the burning of the saloon," saidHaines.
"What the hell! Are you still thinkin' about that?"
"I certainly am."
"Then I'll trade you news," said Terry Jordan, lowering his voice sothat it would not reach the suspicious ear of Jim Silent. "I'll tellyou about the burnin' if you'll tell me something about Barry's fightwith Silent!"
"It's a trade," answered Haines.
"All right. Seems old Joe Cumberland had a hunch to clean up thelandscape--old fool! so he jest up in the mornin' an' without sayin' aword to any one he downs to the saloon and touches a match to it. Whenhe come back to his house he tells his girl, Kate, what he done. Withthat she lets out a holler an' drops in a faint."
Haines muttered.
"What's the matter?" asked Terry, a little anxiously.
"Nothin," said Haines. "She fainted, eh? Well, good!"
"Yep. She fainted an' when she come to, she told Cumberland that Danwas in the saloon, an' probably too weak to get out of the fire. Theystarted for the place on the run. When they got there all they foundwas a pile of red hot coals. So everyone figures that he went up inthe flames. That's all I know. Now what about the fight?"
Lee Haines sat with fixed eyes.
"There isn't much to say about the fight," he said at last.
"The hell there isn't," scoffed Terry Jordan. "From what I heard, thisWhistling Dan simply cut loose and raised the devil more general thana dozen mavericks corralled with a bunch of yearlings."
"Cutting loose is right," said Haines. "It wasn't a pleasant thing towatch. One moment he was about as dangerous as an eighteen-year-oldgirl. The next second he was like a panther that's tasted blood.That's all there was to it, Terry. After the first blow, he was allover the chief. You know Silent's a bad man with his hands?"
"I guess we all know that," said Jordan, with a significant smile.
"Well," said Haines, "he was like a baby in the hands of Barry. Idon't like to talk about it--none of us do. It makes the flesh creep."
There was a loud crackling among the underbrush several hundred yardsaway. It drew closer and louder.
"Start up your works agin, will you, Bill?" called Silent. "Here comesShorty Rhinehart, an' he's overdue."
In a moment Shorty swung from his horse and joined the group. Hegained his nickname from his excessive length, being taller by an inchor two than Jim Silent himself, but w
hat he gained in height he lostin width. Even his face was monstrously long, and marked with such sadlines that the favourite name of "Shorty" was affectionately varied to"Sour-face" or "Calamity." Silent went to him at once.
"You seen Hardy?" he asked.
"I sure did," said Rhinehart, "an' it's the last time I'll make thattrip to him, you can lay to that."
"Did he give you the dope?"
"No."
"What do you mean?"
"I jest want you to know that this here's my last trip to Elkhead--on_any_ business."
"Why?"
"I passed three marshals on the street, an' I knew them all. They wasmy friends, formerly. One of them was--"
"What did they do?"
"I waved my hand to them, glad an' familiar. They jest grunted. One ofthem, he looked up an' down the street, an' seein' that no one was insight, he come up to me an' without shakin' hands he says: 'I'm somesurprised to see you in Elkhead, Shorty.' 'Why,' says I, 'the town'sall right, ain't it?' 'It's all right,' he says, 'but you'd find it apile more healthier out on the range.'"
"What in hell did he mean by that?" growled Silent.
"He simply meant that they're beginnin' to think a lot more aboutus than they used to. We've been pullin' too many jobs the last sixmonths."
"You've said all that before, Shorty. I'm runnin' this gang. Tell meabout Hardy."
"I'm comin' to that. I went into the Wells Fargo office down by therailroad, an' the clerk sent me back to find Hardy in the back room,where he generally is. When he seen me he changed colour. I'd jestpopped my head through the door an' sung out: 'Hello, Hardy, how's theboy?' He jumped up from the desk an' sung out so's his clerk in theoutside room could hear: 'How are you, lad?' an' he pulled me quickinto the room an' locked the door behind me.
"'Now what in hell have you come to Elkhead for?' says he.
"'For a drink' says I, never battin' an eye.
"'You've come a damn long ways,' says he.
"'Sure,' says I, 'that's one reason I'm so dry. Will you liquor, pal?'
"He looked like he needed a drink, all right. He begun loosening hisshirt collar.
"'Thanks, but I ain't drinkin', says he. 'Look here, Shorty, are youloco to come ridin' into Elkhead this way?'
"'I'm jest beginnin' to think maybe I am,' says I.
"'Shorty,' he says in a whisper, 'they're beginnin' to get wise to thewhole gang--includin' me.'
"'Take a brace,' says I. 'They ain't got a thing on you, Hardy.'
"'That don't keep 'em from thinkin' a hell of a pile,' says he, 'an'I tell you, Shorty, I'm jest about through with the whole works. Itain't worth it--not if there was a million in it. Everybody is gettin'wise to Silent, an' the rest of you. Pretty soon hell's goin' to bustloose.'
"'You've been sayin' that for two years,' says I.
"He stopped an' looked at me sort of thoughtful an' pityin'. Then hesteps up close to me an' whispers in that voice: 'D'you know who's onSilent's trail now? Eh?'
"'No, an' I don't give a damn,' says I, free an' careless.
"'Tex Calder!' says he."
Silent started violently, and his hand moved instinctively to hissix-gun.
"Did he say Tex Calder?"
"He said no less," answered Shorty Rhinehart, and waited to see hisnews take effect. Silent stood with head bowed, scowling.
"Tex Calder's a fool," he said at last. "He ought to know better'n totake to _my_ trail."
"He's fast with his gun," suggested Shorty.
"Don't I know that?" said Silent. "If Alvarez, an' Bradley, an'Hunter, an' God knows how many more could come up out of their graves,they'd tell jest how quick he _is_ with a six-gun. But I'm the one manon the range that's faster."
Shorty was eloquently mute.
"I ain't askin' you to take my word for it," said Jim Silent. "Nowthat he's after me, I'm glad of it. It had to come some day. Themountains ain't big enough for both of us to go rangin' forever. Wehad to lock horns some day. An' I say, God help Tex Calder!"
He turned abruptly to the rest of the men.
"Boys, I got somethin' to tell you that Shorty jest heard. Tex Calderis after us."
There came a fluent outburst of cursing.
Silent went on: "I know jest how slick Calder is. I'm bettin' onmy draw to be jest the necessary half a hair quicker. He may dieshootin'. I don't lay no bets that I c'n nail him before he gets hisiron out of its leather, but I say he'll be shootin' blind when hedies. Is there any one takin' that bet?"
His eyes challenged them one after another. Their glances travelledpast Silent as if they were telling over and over to themselves thestories of those many men to whom Tex Calder had played the part ofFate. The leader turned back to Shorty Rhinehart.
"Now tell me what he had to say about the coin."
"Hardy says the shipment's delayed. He don't know how long."
"How'd it come to be delayed?"
"He figures that Wells Fargo got a hunch that Silent was layin' forthe train that was to carry it."
"Will he let us know when it _does_ come through?"
"I asked him, an' he jest hedged. He's quitting on us cold."
"I was a fool to send you, Shorty. I'm goin' myself, an' if Hardydon't come through to me--"
He broke off and announced to the rest of his gang that he intended tomake the journey to Elkhead. He told Haines, who in such cases usuallyacted as lieutenant, to take charge of the camp. Then he saddled hisroan.
In the very act of pulling up the cinch of his saddle, Silent stoppedshort, turned, and raised a hand for quiet. The rest were instantlystill. Hal Purvis leaned his weazened face towards the ground. In thismanner it was sometimes possible to detect far-off sounds which to oneerect would be inaudible. In a moment, however, he straightened up,shaking his head.
"What is it?" whispered Haines.
"Shut up," muttered Silent, and the words were formed by the motion ofhis lips rather than through any sound. "That damned whistling again."
Every face changed. At a rustling in a near-by willow, Terry Jordanstarted and then cursed softly to himself. That broke the spell.
"It's the whisperin' of the willows," said Purvis.
"You lie," said Silent hoarsely. "I hear the sound growing closer."
"Barry is dead," said Haines.
Silent whipped out his revolver--and then shoved it back into theholster.
"Stand by me, boys," he pleaded. "It's his ghost come to haunt me! Youcan't hear it, because he ain't come for you."
They stared at him with a fascinated horror.
"How do you know it's him?" asked Shorty Rhinehart.
"There ain't no sound in the whole world like it. It's a sort of crossbetween the singing of a bird an' the wailin' of the wind. It's theghost of Whistlin' Dan."
The tall roan raised his head and whinnied softly. It was an unearthlyeffect--as if the animal heard the sound which was inaudible to allbut his master. It changed big Jim Silent into a quavering coward.Here were five practised fighters who feared nothing between heavenand hell, but what could they avail him against a bodiless spirit? Thewhistling stopped. He breathed again, but only for a moment.
It began again, and this time much louder and nearer. Surely theothers must hear it now, or else it was certainly a ghost. The men satwith dilated eyes for an instant, and then Hal Purvis cried, "I heardit, chief! If it's a ghost, it's hauntin' me too!"
Silent cursed loudly in his relief.
"It ain't a ghost. It's Whistlin' Dan himself. An' Terry Jordan hasbeen carryin' us lies! What in hell do you mean by it?"
"I ain't been carryin' you lies," said Jordan, hotly. "I told youwhat I heard. I didn't never say that there was any one seen his deadbody!"
The whistling began to die out. A babble of conjecture and exclamationbroke out, but Jim Silent, still sickly white around the mouth, swungup into the saddle.
"That Whistlin' Dan I'm leavin' to you, Haines," he called. "I've hadhis blood onct, an' if I meet him agin there's goin' to be
anothernotch filed into my shootin' iron."