by Max Brand
CHAPTER 30
Retrospection made Andrew Lanning's coming to Los Toros a mad freak,whereas it was in reality a very clever stroke. Hal Dozier would havebeen on the road five hours before if he had not been held up in thematter of horses, but this is to tell the story out of turn.
Andrew saddled the mare and sent her back swiftly out of the plain, overthe hills, and then dropped her down into the valley of the LittleSilver River until he reached the grove of trees just outside LosToros--some four hundred yards, say, from the little group of houses. Hethen took off his belt, hung it over the pommel, fastened the reins tothe belt, and turned away. Sally would stay where he left her--unlesssomeone else tried to get to her head, and then she would fight like awildcat. He knew that, and he therefore started for Los Toros with hisline of communications sufficiently guarded.
He instinctively thought first of drawing his hat low over his eyes andwalking swiftly; a moment of calm figuring told him that the better waywas to push the hat to the back of his head, put his hands in hispockets, and go whistling through the streets of the town. It was themiddle of the gray afternoon; there were few people about, and the twoor three whom Andrew passed nodded a greeting. Each time they raisedtheir hands the fingers of Andrew twitched, but he made himself smileback at them and waved in return.
He went on until he came to the restaurant. It was a long, narrow roomwith a row of tables down each side, and a little counter and cashregister beside the door, some gaudy posters on the wall, a screen atthe rear to hide the entrance to the kitchen, and a ragged strip oflinoleum on the narrow passage between the tables.
These things Andrew saw with the first flick of his eyes as he camethrough the door; as for people, there was a fat old man sitting behindthe cash register in a dirty white apron and two men in greasy overallsand black shirts, perhaps from the railroad. There was one other thingwhich immediately blotted out all the rest; it was a big poster, abouthalfway down the wall, on which appeared in staring letters: "Tenthousand dollars reward for the apprehension, dead or alive, of AndrewLanning." Above this caption was a picture of him, and below the bigprint appeared the body of smaller type which named his particularfeatures. Straight to this sign Andrew walked and sat down at the tablebeneath it.
It was no hypnotic attraction that took him there. He knew perfectlywell that if a man noticed that sign he would never dream of connectingthe man for whom, dead or alive, ten thousand dollars was to be paid,with the man who sat underneath the picture calmly eating his lunch inthe middle of a town. Even if some supercurious person should make acomparison, he would not proceed far with it, Andrew was sure, for thepicture represented the round, young face of a person who hardly existednow; the hardened features of Andrew were now only a skinny caricatureof what they had been.
At any rate, Andrew sat down beneath the picture, and, instead ofresting one elbow on the table and partially veiling his face with hishand, as he might most naturally have done, he tilted back easily in hischair and looked up at the poster. The fat man from behind the registerhad come to take his order. He noted the direction of Andrew's eyeswhile he jotted down the items.
"You ain't the first," he said, "that's looked at that. Think of thegent that'll get ten thousand dollars out of a single slug?"
"I can name the man who'll get it," said Andrew, "and his name is HalDozier."
"I guess you ain't far wrong," replied the other. "For that matter, thefolks around here would mostly make the same guess. But maybe Hal's luckwill take a turn."
"Well," said Andrew, "if he gets the money I'll say that he's earned it.And rush in some bread first, captain. I'm two-thirds starved."
It was a historic meal in more than one way. The size of it was onenotable feature, and even Andrew had to loosen his belt when he came toattack the main feature, which was a vast steak with fried eggsscattered over the top of it.
The steak had been reduced to a meager rim before Andrew had anyattention to pay to the paper which had been placed on his table. It wasan eight-page sheet entitled _The Granville Bugle_, and a subheadannounced that it was "the greatest paper on the ranges and thecattleman's guide." Andrew found a picture on the first page, a pictureof Hal Dozier, and over the picture the following caption: "Watch thiscolumn for news of the Andrew Lanning hunt."
The article in this week's issue contained few facts. It announced anumber of generalities: "Marshal Hal Dozier, when interviewed, said--"and a great many innocuous things which he was sure that grim huntercould not have spoken. He passed over the rest of the column in carelesscontempt. On the second page, in a muddle of short notices, oneheadline caught his eye and held it: "Charles Merchant to WedSociety Belle."
The editor had spread his talents for the public eye in doing justice toit:
On the fifteenth of the month will be consummated a romance which beganlast year, when Charles Merchant, son of the well-known cattle king,John Merchant, went East and met Miss Anne Withero. It is Miss Withero'ssecond visit in the West, and it is now announced that the marriage--
Andrew crumpled the paper and let it fall. He glanced at a calender onthe wall opposite him. There remained six days before the wedding.
And he was still so stunned by that announcement that, raising his headslowly, his thoughts spinning, he looked up and encountered the eyes ofHal Dozier as the latter sank into a chair.
He did not complete the act, but was arrested in midair, one handgrasping the back of the chair, the other hand at his hip. Andrew, inthe space of an instant, thought of three things--to kick the table fromhim and try to get to the side door of the place, to catch up the heavysugar bowl and attempt to bowl over his man with a well-directed blow,or to simply sit and look Hal Dozier in the eye.
He had thought of the three things in the space that it would take a dogto snap at a fly and look away. He dismissed the first alternatives asabsurd, and, picking up his cup of coffee, he raised his eyes slowlytoward the ceiling, after the time-honored fashion of a man draining aglass, let his glance move gradually up and catch on the face of Dozier,and then, without haste, lowered the cup again to its saucer. The flushof his own heavy meal kept his pallor from showing. As for Dozier, therewas a succession of changes in his features, and then he concluded bylowering himself heavily the rest of the way into his chair. He gave hisorder to the proprietor in a dazed fashion, looking straight at Andrew,and the latter knew perfectly that the deputy marshal felt that he wasin a dream. He was seeing what was not possible to see; his eyes weretelling his brain in definite terms: "There sits Andrew Lanning and tenthousand dollars." But the reason of Dozier was speaking no lessdecidedly: "There sits a man without a weapon at his hip and actuallybeneath the poster which offers a reward for the capture of the personhe resembles. Also, he is in a restaurant in the middle of a town. Ihave only to raise my voice in order to surround him."
And reason gained the upper hand, though Dozier continued to look atAndrew in a fascinated manner.
Suddenly the outlaw knew that it would not do to disregard that glanceso long continued. To disregard it would be to start the suspicions ofDozier as soon as his brain cleared.
"Hello, stranger," said Andrew, and he merely made his voice a triflehusky and deep. "D'you know me?"
The eyes of Dozier widened, there was a convulsive motion of his arm,and then his glance wandered slowly away.
"Excuse me," he said. "I thought I remembered your face."
Should he let it rest at that? No, better risk a finishing touch. "Noharm done," he said in the same loud voice. "Hey, captain, another cupof coffee, will you? And a cigar."
He tilted back in his chair and began to hum. And all the time hisnerves were jumping, and that old frenzy was taking him by the throat,that bulldog eagerness for the fight. But fight emptyhanded--and againstHal Dozier? The restaurant owner brought Dozier's order, and then thecoffee and the cigar to Andrew, and while the deputy continued to lookwith dumb fascination at Andrew with swift side glances, Andrew finishedhis second cup. He bit off th
e end of his cigar, asked for his check,and paid it, and then felt his nerves crumble and go to pieces.
It was not Hal Dozier who sat there, but death itself that looked him inthe face. One false move, one wrong gesture, would betray him. How couldhe tell? That very moment his expression might have altered intosomething which the marshal could not fail to recognize, and the momentthat final touch came there would be a gun play swifter than the eyecould follow--simply a flash of steel and a simultaneous explosion.
Even now, with the cigar between his teeth, he knew that if he lighted amatch, the match would tremble between his fingers, and that tremblingwould betray him to Dozier. Yet he must not sit there, either, with thecigar between his teeth, unlighted. It was a little thing, but theweight of a feather would turn the balance and loose on him thethunderbolt of Hal Dozier in action.
But what could he do?
He found a thing in the very deeps of his despair. He got up from hischair, pushed his hat calmly upon his head and walked straight to thedeputy. He dropped both hands upon the edge of Hal's table and leanedacross it.
"Got a light, partner?" he asked.
And standing there over the table, he knew that Dozier had at lengthfinally and definitely recognized him; but that the numbed brain of themarshal refused to permit him to act. He believed and yet he dared notbelieve his belief. Andrew saw the glance of Dozier go to his hip--hiship which the holster had rubbed until it gleamed. But no matter--thegun was not there--and stunned again by that impossible fact Dozierreached back and brought up his hand bearing a match box. He took out amatch. He lighted it, his brows drawing together and slackening all thetime, and then he looked up, his eyes rising with the lighted match, andstared full into the eyes of Andrew.
It was discovery undoubtedly--and how long would that mental paralysislast?
Andrew looked straight back into those eyes. His cigar took the fire andsucked in the flame. A cloud of smoke puffed out and rolled toward HalDozier, and Andrew turned leisurely and walked toward the door.
He was a yard from it.
"Lanning!" came a voice behind him, terrible, like a scream of pain.
As he leaped forward a gun spoke heavily in the room. He heard thebullet crunch into the frame of the door; the door itself was split bythe second shot as Andrew slammed it shut. Then he raced around thecorner of the restaurant and made for the grove.
There was not a sound behind him for a moment. Then a roar rose from thevillage and rushed after him. It gave him wings. And, looking back, hesaw that Hal Dozier was not among the pursuers. No, half a dozen menwere running, and firing as they ran, but there was not a rifle in thelot, and it takes a good man to land a bullet on the run where he isfiring at a dodging target. The pursuers lost ground; they stopped andyelled for horses.
But that was what Hal Dozier was doing now. He was jerking a saddle onthe back of Gray Peter, and in sixty seconds he would be tearing out ofLos Toros. In the same space Andrew was in his own saddle with a flyingleap and spurring out of the trees.
