The Greatest Westerns of Ernest Haycox. Ernest Haycox

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СКАЧАТЬ find out that from a plain harum-scarum fellow I've got to be a crook, a rustler, a leader of outlaws—a renegade with enough reputation to make the night marshal act polite! I'd rather cut off my arm than to have her know it—but she will. Eve Leverage already knows it. Everybody I want to be friends with knows it. So now there ain't a damned soul in the world I can mix with as an ordinary, decent human bein'!"

      He swept rapidly along the road, passing slower rigs that were but shapeless outlines in the dark. Drowsy calls were thrown at him but he kept still, both from pride and purpose; for with the coming night he resumed the traits of his trade—secrecy, swiftness, and vigilance. The knowledge he shifted roles so abruptly added to the kindling fire of his temper.

      "Nobody to blame but myself. I chose this business, and I reckon I've prospered. Why have regrets? Why weaken now and fall away from the big prizes? I despise a quitter; I hate a man that will not live up to his talents whether crooked or honest. And if there's no longer a soul in Yellow Hill I can trust or go to for help—then why not throw overboard every damned last scruple I've got and turn wolf? Why not?"

      Unconsciously he had shouted that question into the night, and the muffled echo came down the dripping side of Shoshone Dome like the answer of fate. It stiffened him in the saddle as he went racing onward; it roused his gambler's superstitions. These black shadows, within which he spent so much of his life, had replied. It was his dark destiny speaking, it was one clear call in a career of uncertainty. Flashes of realization raced through his agile mind; he was successful and powerful because he had veered from set ways of honesty. He had cut through, he had gone ahead, each step more daring and ruthless and confident. So there was left him only one course—to carry this cold and swift relentlessness of purpose to its ultimate conclusion. Trust no one, bend to no one, never let his heart hold kindness, never let his mind be bound by a promise.

      He skimmed through the fog-damp countryside, ran by the toe of Starlight and on into the southern reaches. At a point where the stage road hit a direct and descending line into the open prairie he slackened speed and turned up a lesser trail, winding between the funereal gloom of overshadowing pines. A creek dashed down grade, and the pitch of the trail sharpened. Light flashed covertly at him from a summit cabin; somebody moved in front and challenged softly:

      "Who's that?"

      "Dann here yet?"

      "Waitin' for yuh."

      He dismounted, led his horse slightly to one side of the cabin, and went back, entering the place with a swift and sidewise motion that exposed him very briefly to the outer world. Two men sat beside a stove, and a third, Stinger Dann, lolled on the adjacent bunk, holding his swollen head between his hands.

      "Next time," said Redmain, "you'll know better."

      Dann rose. "Next time I'll kill him!"

      "Not while you're in my outfit, Dann. You'll behave. You'll take my orders, and you'll never lift a finger unless I say so."

      "Then," cried Dann, "I'll pull out of yore damned outfit!"

      Redmain's eyes burned into Dann while the trembling moments passed by. Dann's bulk overshadowed him, and Dann's evilly stamped features made the slim chief seem juvenile by comparison. Yet Lou Redmain's will swelled through that cramped cabin room like sun's heat. "You will never leave my outfit, Dann. You threw in with me voluntarily. I made you a partner in this business. You know my secrets. There will never be any getting away for you. You stick."

      Dann squared himself defensively. The arrogant, bullying strength in him crumbled before Redmain's superior power. "What yuh tryin' to tell me? I'm a free man! I'm not no damned peon, Lou! I come and I go!"

      "Only when I tell you," droned Redmain, and the narrow face moved with anger. "I say you stick or you take the consequences. Make up your mind here and now. I've got a good medicine for herd jumpers like you. Well, what is it to be?"

      "I ain't m'self," muttered Dann. "I feel bad, I feel awful. Don't haze me around like that. Can't a man blow off steam once in a while?"

      Redmain laughed contemptuously. "I'm glad we have settled it. And I want you to understand this once and for all—never cross Dave Denver, never make a play for him unless I give you orders on the subject. What made you think your draw was as fast as his, anyhow? Why, you fool, he can beat any man's bullet in this country except mine. You'd be dead now if Cal Steele hadn't stopped your play. And what were you doing in Sundown tonight? I didn't tell you to be there."

      "Just rode over from the Wells to have a little fun," mumbled Dann, not meeting Red-main's glance.

      "You lie," retorted the chief coolly. "You had some nutty idea in your head. Trying to be tough on your own account. If you didn't have my name standing behind you, Dann, somebody would have put a bullet in that clumsy body of yours long ago. I'll tolerate no more foolishness!"

      Dann took the lashing in silence; the other two stared at the floor. Redmain turned to one of them impatiently. "The job done, Gus?"

      "Yeah," said Gus. "We took twenty cows and calves, run 'em acrost the bridge and stopped near the road. Now what?"

      Redmain considered it briefly. "As soon as the travel from Sundown slacks off, put the stuff over the road in a hurry and drive into Tom's Hole. Dann, you go along with the bunch and camp with them. Don't come back to the Wells until I send for you. Tomorrow I want the calves branded and the cows blotted. Take your time and do a good job."

      "What brand yuh goin' to use this time?"

      "Same we've been using lately." Redmain rolled a cigarette, lips compressing. A flare of slight excitement moved across his eyes. "So far, I have played a fifty-fifty game. Half crooked and half honest. It's no good. I'm out for blood. You take one of those cows and switch the brand to Denver's D Slash. Make a bunglin' amateur job of it that anybody could see. Tomorrow night drive it into Denver's range and leave it."

      "Plantin' somethin' on him, huh?" was Dann's exclamation.

      Voices rose outside the cabin. Redmain warned the others. "Keep your mouths shut about this." Then the door opened, and another man entered, smiling sleepily.

      It was Cal Steele. "You're late," said Redmain.

      "What of it?" drawled Steele. "I might have been still later. I might not have come at all."

      "In our business we've got to move fast," grunted Redmain.

      "So you ascribe your success in life to the fact you are always punctual," jeered Steele.

      "Ten minutes," Redmain reminded him grimly, "may make the difference of our bein' alive or hung. Don't forget that."

      "Is it so important to be alive?" countered Steele wearily. He pointed his finger at Dann and spoke with an angry accent. "As for you, my friend, you nearly got your cursed head beat off, and I wish Dave had finished the job. You'll have to get up earlier to make a sucker out of that boy. What is more, if you had plugged him I would have plugged you. I've said before I won't stand for this crowd monkeyin' with Dave Denver. He is my best friend. Though," and Steele turned morosely unpleasant, "he wouldn't be if he knew what a double-faced misfit I really am."

      "So you find friendship begins to sour?" said Redmain.

      "A man such as myself deserves no friends," Steele muttered.

      "Neither deserves them nor has them," replied Redmain. "I made the same discovery tonight, Cal. So СКАЧАТЬ