Way of the Lawless

by Max Brand

  CHAPTER 7

  Every moment was bringing on the dawn more swiftly, and the eyes of Andywere growing more accustomed to the gloom in the house. He found thedoor of the girl's room at once. When he entered he had only to pause amoment before he had all the details clearly in mind. Other senses thanthat of sight informed him in her room. There was in the gray gloom atouch of fragrance such as blows out of gardens across a road; yet herethe air was perfectly quiet and chill. The dawn advanced. But all thathe could make out was a faint touch of color againt the pillow--and thatwould be her hair. Then with astonishing clearness he saw her handresting against her breast. Andy stood for a moment with his eyesclosed, a great tenderness falling around him. The hush kept deepening,and the sense of the girl drew out to him as if a light were brighteningabout her.

  He stepped back to the table against the wall, took the chimney from thelamp, and flicked a match along his trousers, for in that way a matchwould make the least noise. Yet to the hair-trigger nerves of Andy thespurt and flare of the match was like the explosion of a gun. He lightedthe lamp, turned down the wick, and replaced the chimney. Then he turnedas though someone had shouted behind him. He whirled as he had whirledin the hall, crouching, and he found himself looking straight into theeyes of the girl as she sat up in bed.

  Truly he did not see her face at first, but only the fear in it, partingher lips and widening her eyes. She did not speak; her only movement wasto drag up the coverlet of the bed and hold it against the base ofher throat.

  Andy drew off his hat and stepped a little closer. "Do you know me?" heasked.

  He watched her as she strove to speak, but if her lips stirred they madeno sound. It tortured him to see her terror, and yet he would not havehad her change. This crystal pallor or a flushed joy--in one of the twoshe was most beautiful.

  "You saw me in Martindale," he continued. "I am the blacksmith. Do youremember?"

  She nodded, still watching him with those haunted eyes.

  "I saw you for the split part of a second," said Andy, "and you stoppedmy heart. I've come to see you for two minutes; I swear I mean you noharm. Will you let me have those two minutes for talk?" Again shenodded. But he could see that the terror was being tempered a little inher face. She was beginning to think, to wonder. It seemed a naturalthing for Andy to go forward a pace closer to the bed, but, lest thatshould alarm her, it seemed also natural for him to drop upon one knee.It brought the muzzle of the revolver jarringly home against the floor.

  The girl heard that sound of metal and it shook her; but it requires avery vivid imagination to fear a man upon his knees. And now that shecould look directly into his face, she saw that he was only a boy, notmore than two or three years older than herself. For the first time sheremembered the sooty figure which had stood in the door of theblacksmith shop. The white face against the tawny smoke of the shop;that had attracted her eyes before. It was the same white face now, butsubtly changed. A force exuded from him; indeed, he seemed neitheryoung nor old.

  She heard him speaking in a voice not louder than a whisper, rapid,distinct.

  "When you came through the town you waked me up like a whiplash," he wassaying. "When you left I kept thinking about you. Then along came atrouble. I killed a man. A posse started after me. It's on my heels, butI had to see you again. Do you understand?"

  A ghost of color was going up her throat, staining her cheeks.

  "I had to see you," he repeated. "It's my last chance. Tomorrow theymay get me. Two hours from now they may have me salted away with lead.But before I kick out I had to have one more look at you. So I swung outof my road and came straight to this house. I came up the stairs. I wentinto a room down the hall and made a man tell me where to find you."

  There was a flash in the eyes of the girl like the wink of sun on a bitof quartz on a far-away hillside, but it cut into the speech of AndrewLanning. "He told you where to find me?" she asked in a voice no louderthan the swift, low voice of Andy. But what a world of scorn!

  "He had a gun shoved into the hollow of his throat," said Andy. "He hadto tell--two doors down the hall--"

  "It was Charlie!" said the girl softly. She seemed to forget her fear.Her head raised as she looked at Andy. "The other man--the oneyou--why--"

  "The man I killed doesn't matter," said Andy. "Nothing matters exceptthat I've got this minute here with you."

  "But where will you go? How will you escape?"

  "I'll go to death, I guess," said Andy quietly. "But I'll have a grinfor Satan when he lets me in. I've beat 'em, even if they catch me."

  The coverlet dropped from her breast; her hand was suspended with stifffingers. There had been a sound as of someone stumbling on the stairway,the unmistakable slip of a heel and the recovery; then no more sound.Andy was on his feet. She saw his face whiten, and then there was aglitter in his eyes, and she knew that the danger was nothing to him.But Anne Withero whipped out of her bed.

  "Did you hear?"

  "I tied and gagged him," said Andy, "but he's broken loose, and now he'sraising the house on the quiet."

  For an instant they stood listening, staring at each other.

  "They--they're coming up the hall," whispered the girl. "Listen!"

  It was no louder than a whisper from without--the creak of a board.Andrew Lanning slipped to the door and turned the key in the lock. Whenhe rejoined her in the middle of the room he gave her the key.

  "Let 'em in if you want to," he said.

  But the girl caught his arm, whispering: "You can get out that windowonto the top of the roof below, then a drop to the ground. But hurrybefore they think to guard that way!" "Anne!" called a voice suddenlyfrom the hall.

  Andy threw up the window, and, turning toward the door, he laughed hisdefiance and his joy.

  "Hurry!" she was demanding. A great blow fell on the door of her room,and at once there was shouting in the hall: "Pete, run outside and watchthe window!"

  "Will you go?" cried the girl desperately.

  He turned toward the window. He turned back like a flash and swept herclose to him.

  "Do you fear me?" he whispered.

  "No," said the girl.

  "Will you remember me?"

  "Forever!"

  "God bless you," said Andy as he leaped through the window. She saw himtake the slope of the roof with one stride; she heard the thud of hisfeet on the ground below. Then a yell from without, shrill and highand sharp.

  When the door fell with a crash, and three men were flung into the room,Charles Merchant saw her standing in her nightgown by the open window.Her head was flung back against the wall, her eyes closed, and one handwas pressed across her lips.

  "He's out the window. Down around the other way," cried CharlesMerchant.

  The stampede swept out of the room. Charles was beside her.

  She knew that vaguely, and that he was speaking, but not until hetouched her shoulder did she hear the words: "Anne, are youunhurt--has--for heaven's sake speak, Anne. What's happened?"

  She reached up and put his hand away.

  "Charles," she said, "call them back. Don't let them follow him!"

  "Are you mad, dear?" he asked. "That murdering--"

  He found a tigress in front of him. "If they hurt a hair of his head,Charlie, I'm through with you. I'll swear that!"

  It stunned Charles Merchant. And then he went stumbling from the room.

  His cow-punchers were out from the bunk house already; the guests andhis father were saddling or in the saddle.

  "Come back!" shouted Charles Merchant. "Don't follow him. Come back! Noguns. He's done no harm."

  Two men came around the corner of the house, dragging a limp figurebetween them.

  "Is this no harm?" they asked. "Look at Pete, and then talk."

  They lowered the tall, limp figure of the man in pajamas to the ground;his face was a crimson smear.

  "Is he dead?" asked Charles Merchant.

  "No move out of him," they answered.

  Other people,
most of them on horseback, were pouring back to learn themeaning of the strange call from Charles Merchant.

  "I can't tell you what I mean," he was saying in explanation. "But you,dad, I'll be able to tell you. All I can say is that he mustn't befollowed--unless Pete here--"

  The eyes of Pete opportunely opened. He looked hazily about him.

  "Is he gone?" asked Pete.

  "Yes."

  "Thank the Lord!"

  "Did you see him? What's he like?"

  "About seven feet tall. I saw him jump off the roof of the house. I wasright under him. Tried to get my gun on him, but he came up like a wildcat and went straight at me. Had his fist in my face before I could getmy finger on the trigger. And then the earth came up and slapped me inthe face." "There he goes!" cried some one.

  The sky was now of a brightness not far from day, and, turning east, inthe direction pointed out, Charles Merchant saw a horseman ride over ahilltop, a black form against the coloring horizon. He was movingleisurely, keeping his horse at the cattle pony's lope. Presently hedipped away out of sight.

  John Merchant dropped his hand on the shoulder of his son. "What is it?"he asked.

  "Heaven knows! Not I!"

  "Here are more people! What's this? A night of surprise parties?"

  Six riders came through the trees, rushing their horses, and JohnMerchant saw Bill Dozier's well-known, lanky form in the lead. Hebrought his horse from a dead run to a halt in the space of a singlejump and a slide. The next moment he was demanding fresh mounts.

  "Can you give 'em to me, Merchant? But what's all this?"

  "You make your little talk," said Merchant, "and then I'll make mine."

  "I'm after Andy Lanning. He's left a gent more dead than alive back inMartindale, and I want him. Can you give me fresh horses for me and myboys, Merchant?"

  "But the man wasn't dead? He wasn't dead?" cried the voice of a girl.The group opened; Bill Dozier found himself facing a bright-haired girlwrapped to the throat in a long coat, with slippers on her feet.

  "Not dead and not alive," he answered. "Just betwixt and between."

  "Thank God!" whispered the girl. "Thank God!"

  There was only one man in the group who should not have heard thatwhispered phrase, and that man was Charles Merchant. He was standingat her side.