The Garden of Eden. Max Brand

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СКАЧАТЬ manner in which she lowered herself into it that she was not used to being seated. That observation gave him a feeling of power over her.

      "You liked the gray, too?" she was saying, as he took his place.

      "I lost a hundred betting against him," said the gambler quietly. "I hope you made a killing."

      He saw by the slight widening of her eyes that a hundred dollars was a good deal of money to her; and she flushed as she answered:

      "I got down a bet with Jud Alison; it was only five dollars, but I had odds of ten to one. Fifty dollars looks pretty big to me," she added, and he liked her frankness.

      "But does everybody know about these grays?"

      "Not so many. They only come from one outfit, you see. Dad knew horses, and he told me an Eden Gray was worth any man's money. Poor Dad!"

      Connor watched her eyes turn dark and dull, but he tossed sympathy aside and stepped forward in the business.

      "I've been interested since I saw that little streak of gray shoot over the finish. Eighteen years old. Did you know that?"

      "Really? Well, Dad said an Eden Gray was good to twenty-five."

      "What else did he say?"

      "He didn't know a great deal about them, after all, but he said that now and then a deaf and dumb Negro comes. He's a regular giant. Whenever he meets a man he gets off the horse and puts a paper into the hand of the other. On the paper it says: Fifty dollars in gold coin! Always that."

      It was like a fairy tale to Connor.

      "Jude Harper of Collinsville met him once. He had only ten dollars in gold, but he had three hundred in paper. He offered the whole three hundred and ten to the deaf-mute but he only shook his head."

      "How often does he come out of the valley?"

      "Once a year – once in two years – nobody knows how often. Of course it doesn't take him long to find a man who'll buy a horse like one of the grays for fifty dollars. The minute the horse is sold he turns around and starts walking back. Pete Ricks tried to follow him. He turned back on Pete, jumped on him from behind a rock, and jerked him off his horse. Then he got him by the hair and bent his head back. Pete says he expected to have his neck broken – he was like a child in the arms of that giant. But it seemed that the mute was only telling him in deaf-and-dumb talk that he mustn't follow. After he'd frightened the life out of Pete the big mute went away again, and Pete came home as fast as his horse could carry him."

      Connor swallowed. "Where do they get the name Eden Gray?"

      "I don't know. Dad said that three things were true about every gray. It's always a gelding; it's always one price, and it always has a flaw. I looked the one over that ran to-day and couldn't see anything wrong, though."

      "Cow-hocked," said Connor, breathing hard. "Go on!"

      "Dad made up his mind that the reason they didn't sell more horses was because the owner only sold to weed out his stock."

      "Wait," said Connor, tapping on the table to make his point. "Do I gather that the only Eden Grays that are sold are the poorest of the lot?"

      "That was Dad's idea."

      "Go on," said Connor.

      "You're excited?"

      But he answered quickly: "Well, one of those grays beat me out of a hundred dollars. I can't help being interested."

      He detached his watch-charm from its catch and began to finger it carelessly; it was the head of an ape carved in ivory yellowed with age.

      The girl watched, fascinated, but she made no mention of it, for the jaw of the gambler was set in a hard line, and she felt, subconsciously, a widening distance between them.

      "Does the deaf-mute own the horses?" he was asking.

      "I suppose so."

      "This sounds like a regular catechism, doesn't it?"

      "I don't mind. Come to think of it, everything about the grays is queer. Well, I've never seen this man, but do you know what I think? That he lives off there in the mountains by himself because he's a sort of religious fanatic."

      "Religion? Crazy, maybe."

      "Maybe."

      "What's his religion?"

      "I don't know," said the girl coldly. "After you jerk lightning for a while, you aren't interested much in religion."

      He nodded, not quite sure of her position, but now her face darkened and she went on, gathering interest in the subject.

      "Oh, I've heard 'em rave about the God that made the earth and the stars and all that stuff; the mountains, too. I've heard 'em die asking for mercy and praising God. That's the way Dad went. It was drink that got him. But I'm for facts only. Far as I can see, when people come up against a thing they can't understand they just close their eyes and say, God! And when they're due to die, sometimes they're afraid and they say, God – because they think they're going out like a snuffed lantern and never will be lighted again."

      The gambler sat with his chin buried in his palm, and from beneath a heavy frown he studied the girl.

      "I don't hold malice more than the next one," said the girl, "but I saw Dad; and I've been sick of religion ever since. Besides, how do you explain the rotten things that happen in the world? Look at yesterday! The King of the Sea goes down with all on board. Were they all crooks? Were they all ready to die? They can tell me about God, but I say, 'Give me the proofs!'"

      She looked at Connor defiantly. "There's just one thing I believe in," she said, "that's luck!"

      He did not stir, but still studied her, and she flushed under the scrutiny.

      "Not that I've had enough luck to make me fond of it. I've been stuck up here on the edge of the world all my life. And how I've wanted to get away! How I've wanted it! I've begged for a chance – to cut out the work. If it doesn't make callouses on a girl's hands it will make them on her heart. I've been waiting all my life for a chance, and the chance has never come." Something flared in her.

      "Sometimes I think," she whispered, "that I can't stand it! That I'd do anything! Anything – just to get away."

      She stopped, and as her passion ebbed she was afraid she had said too much.

      "Shake," he said, stretching his hand across the table, "I'm with you. Luck! That's all there is running things!"

      His fingers closed hard over hers and she winced, for he had forgotten to remove the ivory image from his hand, and the ape-head cut into her flesh.

      CHAPTER SEVEN

      That evening Ruth sent a boy over to the hotel with a telegram for Connor. It announced that Trickster, at six to one, came home a winner in the Murray. But Connor had time for only a grunt and a nod; he was too busy composing a letter to Harry Slocum, which read as follows:

      Dear Harry:

      I'm about to put my head in the lion's mouth; and in case you don't hear from me again, say within three months, this is to ask you to look for my bones. I'm starting out to nail a thousand-to-one shot. СКАЧАТЬ