by Max Brand
CHAPTER 33
There was, as Andrew had understood for a long time, a sort ofunderground world of criminals even here on the mountain desert.Otherwise the criminals could not have existed for even a moment in theface of the organized strength of lawful society. Several times in thecourse of his wanderings Andrew had come in contact with links of theunderground chain, and he learned what every fugitive learns--the safestopping points in the great circuit of his flight.
Three elements went into the making of that hidden society. There wasfirst of all the circulating and active part, and this was composed ofmen actually known to be under the ban of the law and openly defying it.Beneath this active group lay a stratum much larger which served as abase for the operating criminals. This stratum was built entirely of menwho had at one time been incriminated in shady dealings of one sort andanother. It included lawbreakers from every part of the world, men whohad fled first of all to the shelter of the mountain desert and who hadlived there until their past was even forgotten in the lands from whichthey came. But they had never lost the inevitable sympathy for theirmore active fellows, and in this class there was included a meanerelement--men who had in the past committed crimes in the mountain desertitself and who, from time to time, when they saw an absolutely safeopportunity, were perfectly ready and willing to sin again.
The third and largest of all the elements in the criminal world of thedesert was a shifting and changing class of men who might be called thepaid adherents of the active order. The "long riders," acting in groupsor singly, fled after the commission of a crime and were forced to findplaces of rest and concealment along their journey. Under this gravenecessity they quickly learned what people on their way could be hiredas hosts and whose silence and passive aid could be bought. Such menwere secured in the first place by handsome bribes. And very often theyjoined the ranks unwillingly. But when some peaceful householder wasconfronted by a desperate man, armed, on a weary horse--perhaps stainedfrom a wound--the householder was by no means ready to challenge theman's right to hospitality. He never knew when the stranger would takeby force what was refused to him freely, and, if the lawbreaker took byforce, he was apt to cover his trail by a fresh killing.
Of course, such killings took place only when the "long rider" was adesperate brute rather than a man, but enough of them had occurred tocall up vivid examples to every householder who was accosted. As a rulehe submitted to receive the unwelcome guest. Also, as a rule, he wasweak enough to accept a gift when the stranger parted. Once such a giftwas taken, he was lost. His name was instantly passed on by the fugitiveto his fellows as a "safe" man. Before long he became, against or withhis will, a depository of secrets--banned faces became known to him. Andif he suddenly decided to withdraw from that criminal world his case wasmost precarious.
The "long riders" admitted no neutrals. If a man had once been with themhe could only leave them to become an enemy. He became open prey. Hisname was published abroad. Then his cattle were apt to disappear. Hisstacks of hay might catch fire unexpectedly at night. His house itselfmight be plundered, and, in not infrequent cases, the man himself wasbrutally murdered. It was part of a code no less binding because it wasunwritten.
All of this Andrew was more or less aware of, and scores of names hadbeen mentioned to him by chance acquaintances of the road. Such names hestored away, for he had always felt that time impending of which HenryAllister had warned him, the time when he must openly forget hisscruples and take to a career of crime. That time, he now knew, wascome upon him.
It would be misrepresenting Andrew to say that he shrank from thefuture. Rather he accepted everything that lay before himwholeheartedly, and, with the laying aside of his scruples, there was aninstant lightening of the heart, a fierce keenness of mind, a contemptfor society, a disregard for life beginning with his own. One could havenoted it in the recklessness with which he sent Sally up the slope awayfrom the ranch house this night.
He had made up his mind immediately to hunt out a "safe" man, recentlymentioned to him by that unconscionable scapegrace Harry Woods, crookedgambler, thief of small and large, and whilom murderer. The man's namewas Garry Baldwin, a small rancher, some half day's ride aboveSullivan's place in the valley. He was recommended as a man of silence.In that direction Andrew took his way, but, coming in the hills to adished-out place on a hillside, where there was a natural shelter fromboth wind and rain, he stopped there for the rest of the night, cooked ameal, rolled himself in his blankets, and slept into the gray ofthe morning.
No sooner was the first light streaking the horizon to the east thanAndrew wakened. He saddled Sally and, after a leisurely breakfast,started at a jog trot through the hills, taking the upslope with theutmost care. For nothing so ruins a horse as hard work uphill at thevery beginning of the day. He gave Sally her head, and by letting her goas she pleased she topped the divide, breathing as easily as if she hadbeen walking on the flat. She gave one toss of her head as she saw thelong, smooth slope ahead of her, and then, without a word from Andrew ora touch of his heels, she gave herself up to the long, rocking canterwhich she could maintain so tirelessly for hour on hour.
A clear, cold morning came on. Indeed, it was rarely chill for themountain desert, with a feel of coming snow in the wind. Sally prickedone ear as she looked into the north, and Andrew knew that that was asign of trouble coming.
He came in the middle of the morning to the house of Garry Baldwin. Itwas a wretched shack, the roof sagged in the middle, and the buildinghad been held from literally falling apart by bolting an iron rodthrough the length of it.
A woman who fitted well into such a background kicked open the door andlooked up to Andrew with the dishwater still dripping from her redhands. He asked for her husband. He was gone from the house. Where, shedid not know. Somewhere yonder, and her gesture included half the widthof the horizon to the west. There was his trail, if Andrew wished tofollow it. For her part, she was busy and could not spare time togossip. At that she stepped back and kicked the door shut with a slamthat set the whole side of the shack shivering.
At that moment Andrew wondered what he would have done when he lived inMartindale if he had been treated in such a manner. He would havecrimsoned to the eyes, no doubt, and fled from the virago. But now hefelt neither embarrassment nor fear nor anger. He drew his revolver, andwith the heavy butt banged loudly on the door. It left three deep dentsin the wood, and the door was kicked open again. But this time he sawonly the foot of the woman clad in a man's boot. The door remained open,but the hostess kept out of view.
"You be ridin' on, friend," she called in her harsh voice. "Bud, keepout'n the kitchen. Stranger, you be ridin' on. I don't know you and Idon't want to know you. A man that beats on doors with his gun!"
Andrew laughed, and the sound brought her into view, a furious face, buta curious face as well. She carried a long rifle slung easily under herstout arm.
"What d'you want with Garry?" she asked.
And he replied with a voice equally hard: "I want direction for findingScar-faced Allister."
He watched that shot shake her.
"You do? You got a hell of a nerve askin' around here for Allister!Slope, kid, slope. You're on a cold trail."
"Wait a minute," protested Andrew. "You need another look at me."
"I can see all there is to you the first glance," said the woman calmly."Why should I look again?"
"To see the reward," said Andrew bitterly. He laughed again. "I'm AndrewLanning. Ever hear of me?"
It was obvious that she had. She blinked and winced as though the namestunned her. "Lanning!" she said. "Why, you ain't much more'n a kid.Lanning! And you're him?"
All at once she melted.
"Slide off your hoss and come in, Andy," she said. "Dogged if I knew youat all!"
"Thanks. I want to find Allister and I'm in a hurry."
"So you and him are goin' to team it? That'll be high times! Come here,Bud. Look at Andy Lanning. That's him on the horse right before you."
A scared, round face peered out at Andrew from behind his mother. "Allright, partner. I'll tell you where to find him pretty close. He'll beup the gulch along about now. You know the old shack up there? You canget to him inside three hours--with that hoss." She stopped and eyedSally. "Is that the one that run Gray Peter to death? She don't look thepart, but them long, low hosses is deceivin'. Can't you stay, Andy?Well, s'long. And give Allister a good word from Bess Baldwin. Luck!"
He waved, and was gone at a brisk gallop.
