Valley Thieves

by Max Brand

  Women were going about in the room. There was one for almost every man, and each was tending the wants of a male, pouring his whisky, or fetching him what he wished to eat. Some of the men tore at joints of meat; others were eating bread and cheese. And I noticed that none of the women sat down in the presence of their masters.

  The fellow at the door was calling out something— I forget what—to one of his friends, and there was a general roar of laughter that beat and thundered against my ears. Then the man turned and walked right through the darkness of the room in which we were ranged back against the walls. He was carrying an unlighted lantern. He was still chuckling to himself over his last remark. And though we could see him so clearly, he could not make us out. Once he turned his head and looked straight at me, but I suppose that the glare from which he had just come dimmed his eyes a good deal. At any rate, he stumbled against a chair before he got out of the room, so he paused, and lighted his lantern then and there.

  As I saw the spurt of the match flame, and heard the lantern chimney pushed screeching up on its guards of rusted wire, I made sure that we would be discovered the next instant. I saw then that Taxi's automatic was out and covering the fellow. He had only to turn in order to see us now—and die before us!

  But instead of turning, he rubbed his shin where he had collided with the chair, swore a little, and then opened the next door and went on, the lantern swinging at his side and his great shadow sweeping back and forth across the opposite wall.

  He was gone from view and hearing in another moment, but now we were left in an open throat of danger, so to speak.

  That passer-by had left wide the door into the dining room. He had gone on, I couldn't tell where, and he might return at any moment. And in the meantime, fifteen or more armed men were sitting there in the lantern light, ready to answer any alarm. Furthermore, they were all descendants of the old man, and they all looked worthy of the name.

  I picked out young Chuck at once. He was sitting at the head of the table, facing the door, and this was evidently a place of honor that was accorded him for what he had done—or tried to do—that day. In fact, if Taxi's snap shot had not made him drop his rifle after he fired his first bullet, it was plain enough that young Chuck would have easily held all our lives in the hollow of his hand.

  He had one arm tied up in a bood-stained sling, and he was drinking his moonshine and smoking a pipe like any of the grown men. Apparently he was considered to have gained his place among the ranks of the mature warriors.

  But what were we to do ?

  I kept waiting for Silver to give a signal of some sort, either to charge forward through the doorway —a crazy proceeding—or to withdraw as stealthily as possible through the other open door. However, Silver crouched quietly in a corner, with the dim glimmer of the gray wolf beside him. I was on the opposite side of the room with Taxi, and I could see the green, glowing eyes of Frosty.

  There was a pounding of hoofs outside, and then, through another entrance out of my ken, Will Cary and four other men walked into the room.

  Some of the others jumped up. A volley of questions rained around the head of Will Cary.

  He stood up there at the head of the table, near Chuck, and faced that crowd frankly and fearlessly.

  "I didn't get hands on them, if that's what you want to know," he said. "I'll tell you the reason why I didn't lay hands on them. I was too scared. So were the boys with me. We were five, and they were four. Two of that four were Silver and Taxi. We didn't have the nerve to face 'em."

  He made a pause and looked boldly around the table.

  "Do I hear anybody sound off with the idea that they would have done differently?"

  Heads turned a bit this way and that, but the side glances did not last long. The Carys looked back at Will, and after a moment there was a sort of general grunting. Whatever they were thinking, no one cared to stand up and blame Will for what he and his companions had done in the way of flinching from duty.

  Will Cary said, when he saw that he had made his point: "I'm sorry about it. I've got reasons for wanting them all wiped out. Better reasons than the rest of you, maybe. But the fact is, they're too good for us unless we've got numbers on 'em. Jim Silver didn't get a reputation for nothing. Neither did Taxi. When I saw that we weren't going to get any advantage of them, with that wolf sneaking on ahead of 'em to spy us out, I decided to quit. And even if I had decided to go ahead, the boys with me wouldn't have budged. They'd seen how Silver could shoot by starlight. They didn't hanker to see how he could shoot by moonlight."

  He broke off to ask: "How's Bud and Cleve?"

  His father, Dean Cary, spoke up before the others, saying: "Bud's laid out with a slug through his right hip. Cleve's down with a bullet through both legs."

  "There you've got it," said Will Cary. "You fellows may think that it's chance, but my idea is that Silver aimed low. He doesn't take life till he has to. That's what people say about him. And it's true. If he'd wanted to take life, Bud and Cleve would have some lead inside them, by this time, and I guess you all know that I'm right!"

  Any way you take it, that speech of Will Cary's was pretty free and easy, and he finished it off by lifting a big jug of moonshine, pouring out a shot, and tossing off the drink. He coughed and choked over it a little, afterward.

  "It takes a strong man to be a Cary!" he said, and laughed a little.

  I rather liked Will Cary, just then. I mean I liked his frankness, and the suggestion that he saw some of the faults of the clan as clearly as I could, even.

  But trouble came down on Will's head, a minute later, when a door squeaked open and I heard the voice of the old man.

  He said huskily, with a sort of ironic cheer: "Well, boys, here you all are, all kind of spread out havin' your good time. Havin' your nip of whisky and your eats. Well, well, them that work hard has gotta eat hard, too. And look at the work you've all been and done today! Look at what you've put behind you! Look at all the brave things you've done! You've caught old Bill Avon and Clonmel and locked 'em up—and lost 'em! You've had your hands on Frosty and Parade—and you've lost Frosty. You've had Jim Silver and Taxi and the other two lying in the palms of your hands—and you've lost 'em all. And after all of that work, it ain't no wonder that you gotta kind of relax for a minute and take things easy and remember that all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. I don't wonder that you're sittin' here and makin' your fingers all thumbs with booze, in spite of the fact that Silver and Taxi are right here in the house this minute!"

  When he said that, a shooting chill went up out of my eyes and froze my forehead. Every one of those Carys came to his feet with a shout, and the squeals of the women tingled over the noise.

  The old man came swaying into my view, leaning his arm over the shoulder of Maria and peering around at the men.

  With the bright wet stem of his pipe, he kept pointing to this man and that.

  "I mean, there ain't no reason why Silver shouldn't be here!" he said. "There ain't no good guard put out. There ain't any preparations made to catch him."

  A gray-headed, greasy-faced Cary of the second generation said: "Pa, not even Jim Silver is comin' back here. Even Silver has had enough of the Carys to last him for a while. If he does come back, he'll come for Parade, and we got that hoss plastered all around with guards. What more d'you ask?"

  "That's right, Danny," said the terrible old man. "You tell us what Jim Silver is thinkin' about. You figger and plan on what's in his head, because you oughta know. It's brains like yours that knowed he couldn't get into the smoke-house. You didn't see that the tree behind the smoke-house give him his chance of climbin' up on top of the roof, but outside of that, you figgered everything out fine to keep them two in the smoke-house. All you done was to let 'em get away."

  "And right this minute, if he's got the brains of a gnat, Silver oughta be back here in this house listenin' to what I say and laughin' up his sleeve at you. Because he oughta be able to see that the Carys ain't
what they used to be. They used to be men, but they've fell off from that a whole lot. And Silver ain't quite blind. He's able to see a few things, I take it. He's got the name of havin' eyes. Maybe he's right here in the house now, in that west room in the top story, layin' a knife into Barry Christian that's done us the honor of comin' here and chummin' with us and trustin' his life in our hands. M'ria, close that their door. They's a draft blowin' in on me."

  Maria slipped from under his arm and came to our open door. She stood there for an instant, staring—and her eyes were fixed full on the huge figure of Clonmel, who stood pressed into a corner. By the wideness of her eyes, by the ripple that ran through her body, I knew that she saw him clearly. I waited for the yell of terror and the rush of the armed men.

  Instead of that, she stepped back and quietly closed the door so that the darkness was suddenly thick through the room.

  I heard the whisper of Taxi saying: "Get ready to meet 'em with lead."

  Taxi had noticed what I had noticed, then!

  But the whisper of Jim Silver added instantly: "She saw Harry—and she won't tell!"

  I could not believe it, but the long moment was drawn out and out and still there was no outbreak in the next room. I heard the voice of the old man begin to drawl on, once more. Then I knew it was true, and that the girl was holding her hand!

  When we had worked our way out of that room, I felt as though we had seen the fire and had been in the flames, and that we would certainly get out of the house as fast as possible. But, of course, that was not in the mind of Silver. Taxi, with a couple of glints of light, gave us our location in the next room, and I heard Silver say to him:

  "Christian's in the west room, on the second floor —that's this way, Taxi. Go first. You've got the quietest feet."

  That was true. Taxi could move like a shadow. He went before us, lighting what lay ahead of us with the thin, quick winkings of his torch. And we followed. Silver was, of course, next in line, with Frosty beside him; Clonmel followed, and I was the last in place as in importance. I was badly frightened, but I remember wondering at the noiselessness of the wolf. The big claws on his feet never scratched or rattled on the steps.

  We got up into the hallway above, and it was as crooked a passage as I ever saw. I suppose that was because the additions to the first cabin had been made so irregularly. The hall twisted this way and that and dodged up and down repeatedly as it rose or fell to new levels.

  We were well down that hall towards the west end of the crazy building when a door opened right at the foot of the hall and the figure of a tall man stepped out.

  It was Christian. I knew him by an indescribable something connected with his carriage of head and shoulders, something proud and confident that distinguished him for all other men I've ever seen.

  He came straight down into the blackness of the hallway, after he had shut his door. And I braced myself for the shock when he reached us and Silver should strike him down. Or would Jim Silver take even Christian by surprise and in the darkness, like this?

  The footfalls of Christian stopped. He knocked at a door, apparently, and a woman's voice sang out for him to enter.

  He pulled the door open, and the light from within streamed out against him.

  "Hello, Julie," said Christian. "Hello, Sue."

  Not the voice of Julie Perigord answered, but another woman saying harshly:

  "I thought you'd be turning up to have a look at the beauty. She's got the looks and the eyes to snag even Barry Christian, eh?"

  "Run along, Sue," said Christian. "I want to talk with her."

  "So I run along, do I?" said Sue. "And how am I to know that you won't be running the opposite way, pretty quick, and the gal along with you? I've seen you giving the eye to her. I ain't blind, Christian."

  "Do you think, Sue," said Christian, "that we would run away from the Carys? Do you think that we'd be such fools?"

  "I'll trust a man as far as I can keep a forty-foot rope tied to him," said Sue. "When there's a gal with a face like Julie's mixed up in it, I won't even trust him that far. Understand what I'm saying?"

  "I understand," said Christian. "And you don't remember, do you, that Julie Perigord is engaged to Will Cary? What's the matter with you, Sue? You're a bit rattled, aren't you?"

  "Her and Will Cary—that was calf love—or no love at all," said Sue. "Well, I'm going to get out and leave you two alone, but I'll bet I catch the devil for it, in the wind-up."

  CHAPTER XXIII

  Christian's Idea

  I HEARD a chair pushed back in that room, and the flashlight of Taxi at the same instant glinted on the knob of a door just beside him. He pushed that door open, and we faded into the dark of a room, all of us, while the firm footfall of Sue came out of the next door and turned down the hall.

  She kept on talking as she moved.

  "Treat him good, Julie," she called. "It ain't every gal in this world that gets a smile from Barry Christian. Mostly he don't smile except on gents with loaded wallets."

  She laughed. The sound of her laughter passed away down the hall, and went suddenly dim around a corner. The creaking of her footfall still sounded clearly, moving out of hearing only step by step.

  There was only a thin partition between our room and the next. When Christian spoke, it was startlingly as though he were in the darkness on our side of the wall.

  "Here we are at last, Julie," he said.

  A thickness of silence followed that remark.

  "Just thinking things over, or damning me a little, Julie?" he asked.

  "Not a little," said the voice of the girl, speaking for the first time.

  A breath was caught somewhere close to me. That would be Clonmel, I could imagine.

  "And yet," said Christian, "the fact is that you ought to be leaning on me, Julie. There's no good chance for you here. Do you know just how bad your chance really is?"

  "I'd like to know," said Julie Perigord.

  I liked the way she talked, quietly, with a world of that composure which is like a reserve of strength.

  "You'll have to marry a Cary," said Christian. "Does that sound good to you?"

  "I won't have to marry a Cary," said the girl. "They know that I've come up here for a different reason."

  "Because of that big fellow? Because of Clonmel? Yes, they realize that, and that's the reason they have to make sure of you. You've seen a great deal too much, and you know a great deal too much. You've got to be a Cary—or else you're not going to be anything at all!"

  "You think that they'd knock me over the head?" asked Julie.

  "No, I don't think that. The old man doesn't like killings. Just a few, now and then, to show that his young men are the right stuff. And he wants most of those killings to take place a good distance from home. But there are ways of persuading a girl to change her mind."

  "Are there?" asked Julie.

  "For instance—" began Christian.

  "I don't want to know what they are," she declared.

  "Let it drop, then. I simply want to make sure that you understand."

  "I understand they're savages," said Julie.

  "Then that leads me straight on to a logical conclusion," said Christian. "I'm rather tired of a lonely life. There's only one way you can dodge out of this place—and that's with my help. What do you think of the idea?"

  "Elope with Barry Christian?" said Julie.

  "That's the idea. You may have some bad ideas about me, Julie. I deserve a good many of the bad ideas, at that. But there are some decent streaks in me, too. What do you say?"

  "On the whole," said Julie, "I suppose I ought to thank you."

  "I don't ask for thanks."

  "I'm afraid you won't get them, either," said the girl.

  "You're going to be hard on me, are you?" asked Christian. It was a wonderful thing to hear the plaintiveness creep into his voice. And what a voice it was! Listening to him on the far side of the wall, I could not help forgetting what I knew about him. Even
the nearness of Silver to me in the dark was not entirely enough to keep the truth about Barry Christian in my mind.

  "I won't be hard on you," said Julie. "It simply can't be that way. You see?"

  "You'd rather stay with the Cary tribe? Is that the truth?"

  "That's the truth."

  "What makes you detest me so, Julie?"

  "Why, I've heard a good deal about you. At secondhand, so to speak."

  "How do you mean that?" asked Christian.

  "I mean, I've heard what Jim Silver has been through on your trail."

  "He's a head-hunter," said Christian. "Are you going to believe all the fairy tales that they tell about Silver?"

  "If I couldn't believe in Jim Silver," said Julie, "I don't think that I'd want to believe in anything."

  "Ah, there's your handsome giant—there's Clonmel," said Christian. "What about him?"

  "I love him," said Julie, so quietly that the force of what she said only struck me afterwards. "And love isn't exactly the same as belief. I don't know Harry Clonmel. But I know Jim Silver. Every decent person in the mountains knows Jim Silver and has to believe in him."

  "Are you going to throw me out like this?" said Christian. "Isn't it being a little foolish?"

  There was a sound like a whispering. My friends were rising from the floor where we had been crouching. The ray from Taxi's torch showed us the door. Taxi opened it. We passed out into the hall, arranged ourselves in a half moon, and then Taxi opened the next door, softly but suddenly.

  It made a soft, rushing noise of wind as the draft sucked out after the door. That whispering noise made Christian turn his head and see Jim Silver on the threshold.

  CHAPTER XXIV

  End of the Trail

  RIGHT behind Silver, looming above him, was the half-naked giant, Clonmel. And on the other side of Silver stood the slender form of Taxi. As for me, I didn't count, and I was about out of sight, anyway. But those three must have looked to Christian like three devils out of hell.

  The sight lifted him to his feet, slowly, as though an invisible hand had grabbed him by the hair of the head and raised him. I think there was hardly a man in the world with a colder nerve than Barry Christian, but now he turned white. His face was always pale; now it became like clear stone, and his eyes were dark streaks.