Brand, Max - Silvertip 10 Page 15

  “It has to be murder, then?” said Silver.

  “Not murder, Jim,” said Harry Clonmel. “It’s an execution. I’ll shoot him down, if you won’t. It’s only doing justice on the dog.”

  He turned to go to the tree where the guns were piled.

  “Wait a moment,” said Silver. “Barry,” he pleaded, “will you stand up like a man and fight?”

  “Not a stroke,” said Christian. “Pick me any other man in the world, and I’ll give him odds and beat him. But even now that you’re excited, you’re a little too fast for me. Just the hair’s-breadth that means a killing. You can murder me, but I won’t fight.”

  You see, it was beyond a mere question of shame. And he used that word “murder” repeatedly—to Silver the most horrible word in the language.

  “You lie,” said Taxi. “You won’t give odds, and you won’t have to give odds. I’ll take you on.”

  “Will you?” said Christian.

  “I’ll take you on,” answered Taxi.

  “Take him then,” said Silver.

  “Give him your gun,” said Christian eagerly. “It’s a bargain, Jim. If I beat him—if I down him, I’m free? I’ll get Parade back for you, if that’s what you want. After that—I’m free?”

  Silver was breathing so hard that I could hear the sound half a dozen paces away, where I stood.

  “Are you willing, Taxi?” he asked.

  “Yes,” said Taxi, “but I’ll take my own automatic.”

  “Get it!” said Silver.

  Taxi went over and got his own gun. He began to whistle a little, half under his breath, like a man whose mind is preoccupied. He came back and stood in front of Christian, about eight or nine steps from him. I began to feel sick at the stomach. Frosty ran to his master and lay across Silver’s feet, exactly as though he realized that Silver was not going to fight.

  “Ready!” said Christian.

  “I’m ready any time,” said Taxi.

  Clonmel broke in: “After you, it ought to be my chance at him, Jim!”

  “Be still!” said Silver sternly. And Clonmel was silent.

  Silver said: “I’ll count to three. You shoot then. If either of you stirs a hand before I get to three, I’ll shoot that man down—even if it’s you, Taxi.”

  “I understand,” said Taxi. “I won’t beat the gun.”

  “I understand,” said Christian.

  Why, he was smiling now, his head thrown back in the same proud way, and a gleam was in his eyes.

  Taxi looked very small, in comparison, but he was a fine mechanism, I knew, with a hand swifter than a cat’s paw. He leaned forward a little, staring, intent, savage. After all, he had hated Christian almost as long as Silver had hunted the criminal.

  Silver went to Taxi and shook his hand. They said nothing. After all, what could words express between two such men? Then Silver stepped back and began counting.

  “One—two—”

  I waited through a horrible moment for the count of three. Suddenly I realized that it would never be reached, as Silver, with a groan, exclaimed: “It can’t go through! He’ll only kill you, Taxi. He’s a surer man with a gun!”

  “He’s not!” said Taxi. “I’ll take him with a revolver, or a knife, or a club, or whatever—”

  As though he realized his own absurdity, and that his hate was speaking more than his good sense, he stopped himself quickly.

  “Get your guns again,” said Silver huskily. “It’s got to be the law, after all.”

  “You’ve had him in prison before, and he’s slipped out!” said Taxi. “If you turn him over to the law again, he’ll beat you once more. He has the cash to hire lawyers. He has friends to help him escape, if he’s headed for the death house. What’s the good of going through a game of blindman’s buff again? You have him now! It’s the time you’ve prayed for. Now use it the way he’d use it, if he had the chance.”

  Silver stood silent, and it was Christian who, with amazing effrontery, said:

  “You don’t know the honorable gentleman, Taxi.”

  “Blast you!” breathed Silver, seething with anger.

  He went to Christian and jerked the gun from his hand. He tied Christian’s wrists behind his back again.

  “Go to the edge of the trees and get Parade for me,” he directed. “You can tell them to bring Parade to you. The fools will do what you tell them to do.”

  “Certainly,” said Christian. “Any little thing to oblige you, Jim.”

  We all walked back with Christian and Silver, across the hill, the gulley, and over the knoll to the trees around the house. We passed through those, very softly and secretly, and when we were in view of the lighted corral of Parade, Christian stepped out in front of the trees, a pace or two.

  “Hello, boys,” he said. “I’ll show you a trick with Parade. Take the hobbles off him.”

  “Hello, Barry,” said one of the Carys. “What you want us to do that for?”

  “I’m going to show you that I’ve made the big brute into a pet,” said Christian. “Take the hobbles off him and you’ll see him come to me like a dog.”

  It was Dean Cary who got through the fence and removed the hobbles.

  “You’re drunk or you’re just talkin’, brother,” he declared. “Let’s see you do your stuff, then!”

  Christian nodded, but it was Silver who whistled softly.

  The answer was a thing to do your heart good. Parade, when he heard the signal, whirled about and charged the fence as though he were starting a race over the flat. I think the top bar must have been over six feet high, but the big golden monster flew the barrier as though it had been merely knee-high. He made everything look small. He made the mountains and the whole world seem worthless as he flew the fence and, landing in his stride, streaked on toward his master.

  “There—you see?” called Christian, stepping back to us, into the shadow of the trees.

  Parade went into the group of us, braced his legs to skid to a halt, and tossed his head with a ringing neigh above Silver.

  “If you can do that, you can ride him bareback!” called Dean Cary. “Let’s see you handle him without a bridle, the way Silver can!”

  “I’ll be back later, boys,” said Christian. “I’m taking a little night trip to get sleepy, just now.”

  There was an ironic truth in those words of his!

  We went back through the trees, Clonmel taking Christian in charge, and Silver leading the way. Then we headed across the Cary Valley towards the biggest gap among the hills, that gap through which I had come and found myself in the beginning of trouble.

  XXVI. — AT BLUE WATER

  We walked all night long. Part of the time Silver made Parade carry Julie Perigord. But after a time, Clonmel began to give out. He had lost a good deal of blood and he had been badly exposed until we wrapped him up in our coats. He swore that he would walk with the rest of us, but Silver and Julie persuaded him to get on the horse, and he was reeling on the back of Parade when at last we got into Blue Water in the pink of the morning.

  We made a queer spectacle, I can tell you, as we marched down the main street of that old town. Everybody turned out. It was so early that we might have gone through without attracting much attention, but a small boy got a glimpse of the famous stallion and then spotted Silver. He scampered ahead of us down the street, warning everyone with a voice like the crowing of a rooster. And all of Blue Water, half dressed, came flooding out around us.

  In the middle of all that tumult and cheering—I thought the people would go mad when they saw that Barry Christian was with us—I didn’t feel in the least like a hero, because I realized that all I had done was to make Silver’s work more difficult.

  We got to the jail, and there Silver was met by none other than Sheriff Walt Milton. He hardly had a word for Silver. All he did was to stare at Clonmel.

  “You’re turning this tramp over to me, too, I guess?” he said. “They want him down in Belling Lake for disturbing the peace and
smashing up property.”

  “Settle the charges out of court, Sheriff,” said Silver. “I’ll stand for the amount of the damage done.”

  That ended that discussion. The sheriff looked at Clonmel with hungry eyes, but he had too much sense to go against Silver. What was the use? Judges and juries in our part of the world would never convict a friend of Silver’s. He knew that. All he would win would be unpopularity.

  So he simply took Christian into the jail.

  Christian said good-by to us all in his usual lofty manner. He said, when he looked at me:

  “You choose some pretty clumsy weapons now and then, Jim. One of these days, a tool will break and cut your hand for you.”

  To Silver himself he added directly: “Come see the hanging, Jim, will you?”

  Silver said nothing. I think he felt that the hanging would never take place—at least that the law would be much too clumsy to manage the business, even though a capital sentence was already hanging over the head of Christian.

  At any rate, we saw the jail doors close between us and the captive.

  It was three days later before I drove down into Blue Water again, and got hold of the newspapers that were coming in from the outside, filled with the description of the capture of the famous outlaw.

  Even when I read the headlines, I had the feeling again that Barry Christian was still a long way from being hanged.

  That day I had come down with my wife. It was a great trip, in a way. Charlotte had dressed herself all up, and her face was red and a little puffy. And her eyes looked small and bright, and they went quickly from side to side to find and pick up the recognition that people had for us. Because, you see, I was recognized as one of Silver’s men, and Jim Silver himself had said a lot about me. Not that there was much to say, but he was the sort of a fellow who knew how to step into the background and put his friends forward, God bless him.

  It meant a good deal to me, frankly, but it was plain heaven to Charlotte. A peerage wouldn’t have meant any more to her, I guess.

  I remember that one of the horses in my team was the mustang that had been under my saddle when I started off that day after Clonmel and Julie. It had simply appeared tied to the hitching rack in front of my house, the morning before!

  And now, what did we have on the Cary outfit?

  Well, we had the wounds and the sufferings of Clonmel, and the trouble I had been through. But it’s hard to collect on threats. I was glad not to push any charge because I didn’t want to have the Cary devils on my trail with a grudge. And as for Clonmel, I think he’d almost forgotten that there was such a name as Cary in the world, because he and Julie were getting married this day.

  He was in the seventh heaven of happiness. He poured himself out to me when I went to see him at the hotel. He was going to take Julie back East with him, to his parents, and he was going to have Jim in the party. His father and old mother were going to gladden their eyes with the sight of Jim Silver, at last—and that was enough for them. They’d die happy, after that!

  Somehow, I felt a doubt. I mean, the idea of Jim Silver in any other setting than the mountains of the West was an anomaly.

  But I waited with Charlotte down in the lobby of the hotel, with Charlotte smiling on the reporters who came up to pester us, and with me frowning and scowling at them.

  I was feeling stiff in my Sunday clothes, and hot, and uncomfortable, when we started off towards the church behind Clonmel and Julie, and the whole town following us, and cheering like fools. Taxi and Jim Silver were to meet us at the church itself.

  And when we got there, the parson was all ready with a welcome—and with a note from Jim Silver! For neither Jim nor Taxi was in sight.

  Clonmel read the note, crumpled it, jerked it open, and read it again, with a sick face. Then he passed it over to me, and I read:

  Dear old Harry: Terribly sorry—sudden word has just come, and I have to hop. Will try to be back by tonight to see you and Julie. Luck and happiness to you both.

  Jim.

  I looked away from the letter to the rolling seas of mountains that turned from green to brown to horizon blue, and I knew very well that that night would not bring Jim Silver back. The wilderness had stretched out its arms to him again, and he was gone far into it.

  THE END