Way of the Lawless

by Max Brand

  CHAPTER 23

  It was a very old man who held, or tried to hold, Andrew from falling tothe floor. His shoulders shook under the burden of the outlaw, and theburden, indeed, would have slumped brutally to the floor, had not thesmall ten-year-old boy, whom Andrew had seen on the bay mare, comerunning in under the arms of the old man. With his meager strength heassisted, and the two managed to lower the body gently.

  The boy was frightened. He was white at the sight of the wounds, and thefreckles stood out in copper patches from his pallor.

  Now he clung to the old man.

  "Granddad, it's the gent that tried to buy Sally!"

  The old man had produced a murderous jackknife with a blade that hadbeen ground away to the disappearing point by years of steady grinding.

  "Get some wood in the stove," he commanded. "Fire her up, quick. Put onsome water. Easy, lad!"

  The room became a place of turmoil with the clatter of the stove lidsbeing raised, the clangor of the kettle being filled and put in place.By the time the fire was roaring and the boy had turned, he found thebandages had been taken from the body of the stranger and hisgrandfather was studying the smeared naked torso with a sort ofdetached, philosophic interest. With the thumb and forefinger of hisleft hand he was pressing deeply into the left shoulder of Andrew.

  "Now, there's an arm for you, Jud," said the old man. "See them long,stringy muscles in the forearm? If you grow up and have muscles likethem, you can call yourself a man. And you see the way his stomach cavesin? Aye, that's a sign! And the way his ribs sticks out--and just feelthem muscles on the point of his shoulder--Oh, Jud, he would of made aprime wrestler, this fine bird of ours!"

  "It's like touchin' somethin' dead, granddad," said the boy. "I don'tdast to do it!"

  "Jud, they's some times when I just about want to give you up! Dead? Heain't nowheres near dead. Just bled a bit, that's all. Two as prettylittle wounds as was ever drilled clean by a powerful rifle at shortrange. Dead? Why, inside two weeks he'll be fit as a fiddle, and insidea month he'll be his own self! Dead! Jud, you make me tired! Gimmethat water."

  He went to work busily. Out of a sort of first-aid chest he tookhomemade bandages and, after cleansing the wounds, he began to dressthem carefully.

  He talked with every movement.

  "So this here is the lion, is it?" nodded granddad. "This here is theravenin', tearin', screechin' man-eater? Why, he looks mostly plainkid to me."

  "He--he's been shot, ain't he, granddad?" asked the child in a whisper.

  "Well, boy, I'd say that the lion had been chawed up considerable--bydogs."

  He pointed. "See them holes? The big one in front? That means theysneaked up behind him and shot him while his back was turned."

  "He's wakin' up, granddad," said Jud, more frightened than before.

  The eyes of Andrew were indeed opening.

  He smiled up at them. "Uncle Jas," he said, "I don't like to fight. Itmakes me sick inside, to fight." He closed his eyes again.

  "Now, now, now!" murmured Pop. "This boy has a way with him. And hekilled Bill Dozier, did he? Son, gimme the whisky."

  He poured a little down the throat of the wounded man, and Andrewfrowned and opened his eyes again: He was conscious at last.

  "I think I've seen you before," he said calmly. "Are you one of theposse?"

  The old man stiffened a little. A spot of red glowed on his witheredcheek and went out like a snuffed light.

  "Young feller," said the old man, "when I go huntin' I go alone. Youwrite that down in red, and don't forget it. I ain't ever been a memberof no posse. Look around and see yourself to home."

  Andrew raised his head a little and made out the neat room. It showed,as even his fading senses had perceived when he saw the house first, atouch of almost feminine care. The floor was scrubbed to whiteness, thevery stove was burnished.

  "I remember," said Andrew faintly.

  "You did see me before," said the other, "when you rode into Tomo. Iseen you and you seen me. We changed looks, so to speak. And now you'vedropped in to call on me. I'm goin' to put you up in the attic. Gimme ahand to straighten him up, Jud."

  With Jud's help and the last remnant of Andrew's strength they managedto get him to his feet, and then he partly climbed, partly was pushed byJud, and partly was dragged by the old man up a ladder to the loft. Itwas quite cool there, very dark, and the air came in throughtwo windows.

  "Ain't very sociable to put a guest in the attic," said Pop, between hispanting breaths. "But a public character like you, Lanning, will have aconsid'able pile of callers askin' after you. Terrible jarrin' to thenerves when folks come in and call on a sick man. You lie here andrest easy."

  He went down the ladder and came back dragging a mattress. There, by thelight of a lantern, he and Jud made Andrew as comfortable as possible.

  "You mean to keep me here?" asked the outlaw.

  "Long as you feel like restin'," answered the old man.

  "You can make about--"

  "Stop that fool talk about what I can make out of you. How come it youstayed so close to Tomo? Where was you lyin' low? In the hills?"

  "Not far away." "And they smelled you out?"

  "A man I thought was my friend--" Andrew clicked his teeth shut.

  "You was sold, eh?"

  "I made a mistake."

  "H'm," was the other's comment. "Well, you forget about that and go tosleep. I got a few little attentions to pay to that posse. It'll be herer'arin' before tomorrer. Sleep tight, partner."

  He climbed down the ladder and looked around the room. Jud, his frecklesstill looking like spots of mud or rust, his eyes popping, stood silent.

  "I'm glad of that," said the old man, with a sigh.

  "What, granddad?"

  "You're like a girl, Jud. Takes a sight to make you reasonable quiet.But look yonder. Them spots look tolerable like red paint, don't they?Well, we got to get 'em off."

  "I'll heat some more water," suggested Jud.

  "You do nothing of the kind. You get them two butcher knives out of thetable drawer and we'll scrape off the wood, because you can't wash thatstain out'n a floor." He looked suddenly at Jud with a glint in hiseyes. "I know, because I've tried it."

  For several minutes they scraped hard at the floor until the lastvestige of the fresh stains was gone. Then the old man went outside and,coming back with a handful of sand, rubbed it in carefully over thescraped places. When this was swept away the floor presented nosuspicious traces.

  "But," he exclaimed suddenly, "I forgot. I plumb forgot. He's beenleakin' all the way here, and when the sun comes up they'll foller himthat easy by the sign. Jud, we're beat!"

  They dropped, as at a signal, into two opposite chairs, and sat staringgloomily at each other. The old man looked simply sad and weary, but thecolor came and went in the face of Jud. And then, like a light, an ideadawned in the face of the child. He got up from his chair, lighted alantern, and went outside. His grandfather observed this without commentor suggestion, but, when Jud was gone, he observed to himself: "Judtakes after me. He's got thoughts. And them was things his ma and pa wasnever bothered with."