by Max Brand
For a moment Calder watched, but that stare of cold hate mastered him. He turned his head.
CHAPTER XV
THE CROSS ROADS
As Black Bart raced away in answer to Dan’s whistle, Kate recovered herself from the daze in which she stood and with a sob ran towards the willows, calling the name of Dan, but Silent sprang after her, and caught her by the arm. She cried out and struggled vainly in his grip.
“Don’t follow him, boys!” called Silent. “He’s a dog that can bite while he runs. Stand quiet, girl!”
Lee Haines caught him by the shoulder and jerked Silent around. His hand held the butt of his revolver, and his whole arm trembled with eagerness for the draw.
“Take your hand from her, Jim!” he said.
Silent met his eye with the same glare and while his left hand still held Kate by both her wrists his right dropped to his gun.
“Not when you tell me, Lee!”
“Damn you, I say let her go!”
“By God, Haines, I stand for too much from you!”
And still they did not draw, because each of them knew that if the crisis came it would mean death to them both. Bill Kilduff jumped between them and thrust them back.
He cried, “Ain’t we got enough trouble without roundin’ up work at home? Terry Jordan is shot through the arm.”
Kate tugged at the restraining hand of Silent, not in an attempt to escape, but in order to get closer to Haines.
“Was this your friendship?” she said, her voice shaking with hate and sorrow, “to bring me here as a lure for Whistling Dan? Listen to me, all of you! He’s escaped you now, and he’ll come again. Remember him, for he shan’t forget you!”
“You hear her?” said Silent to Haines.
“Is this what you want me to turn loose?”
“Silent,” said Haines, “it isn’t the girl alone you’ve double crossed. You’ve crooked me, and you’ll pay me for it sooner or later!”
“Day or night, winter or summer, I’m willing to meet you an’ fight it out. Rhinehart and Purvis, take this girl back to the clearing!”
They approached, Purvis still staring at the hand from which only a moment before his gun had been knocked by the shot of Whistling Dan. It was a thing which he could not understand—he had not yet lost a most uncomfortable sense of awe. Haines made no objection when they went off, with Kate walking between them. He knew, now that his blind anger had left him, that it was folly to draw on a fight while the rest of Silent’s men stood around them.
“An’ the rest of you go back to the clearin’. I got somethin’ to talk over with Lee,” said Silent.
The others obeyed without question, and the leader turned back to his lieutenant. For a moment longer they remained staring at each other. Then Silent moved slowly forward with outstretched hand.
“Lee,” he said quietly, “I’m owin’ you an apology an’ I’m man enough to make it.”
“I can’t take your hand, Jim.”
Silent hesitated.
“I guess you got cause to be mad, Lee,” he said. “Maybe I played too quick a hand. I didn’t think about double crossin’ you. I only seen a way to get Whistlin’ Dan out of our path, an’ I took it without rememberin’ that you was the safeguard to the girl.”
Haines eyed his chief narrowly.
“I wish to God I could read your mind,” he said at last, “but I’ll take your word that you did it without thinking.”
His hand slowly met Silent’s.
“An’ what about the girl now, Lee?”
“I’ll send her back to her father’s ranch. It will be easy to put her on the right way.”
“Don’t you see no reason why you can’t do that?”
“Are you playing with me?”
“I’m talkin’ to you as I’d talk to myself. If she’s loose she’ll describe us all an’ set the whole range on our trail.”
Haines stared.
Silent went on: “If we can’t turn her loose, they’s only one thing left—an’ that’s to take her with us wherever we go.”
“On your honour, do you see no other way out?”
“Do you?”
“She may promise not to speak of it.”
“There ain’t no way of changin’ the spots of a leopard, Lee, an’ there ain’t no way of keepin’ a woman’s tongue still.”
“How can we take a girl with us.”
“It ain’t goin’ to be for long. After we pull the job that comes on the eighteenth, we’ll blow farther south an’ then we’ll let her go.”
“And no harm will come to her while she’s with us?”
“Here’s my hand on it, Lee.”
“How can she ride with us?”
“She won’t go as a woman. I’ve thought of that. I brought out a new outfit for Purvis from Elkhead—trousers, chaps, shirts, an’ all. He’s small. They’ll near fit the girl.”
“There isn’t any other way, Jim?”
“I leave it to you. God knows I don’t want to drag any damn calico aroun’ with us.”
As they went back towards their clearing they arranged the details. Silent would take the men aside and explain his purpose to them. Haines could inform the girl of what she must do. Just before they reached the camp Silent stopped short and took Haines by the shoulder.
“They’s one thing I can’t make out, Lee, an’ that’s how Whistlin’ Dan made his getaway. I’d of bet a thousand bones that he would be dropped before he could touch his shootin’ irons. An’ then what happened? Hal Purvis jest flashed a gun—and that feller shot it out’n his hand. I never seen a draw like that. His hand jest seemed to twitch—I couldn’t follow the move he made—an’ the next second his gun went off.”
He stared at Lee with a sort of fascinated horror.
“Silent,” said Haines, “can you explain how the lightning comes down out of the sky?”
“Of course not.”
“Then don’t ask me to explain how Whistling Dan made his getaway. One minute I heard him talkin’ with the girl. The next second there was two shots and when I whirled he was gone. But he’ll come back, Jim. We’re not through with him. He slipped away from you and your men like water out of a sieve, but we won’t slip away from him the same way.”
Silent stared on again with bowed head.
“He liked the girl, Lee?”
“Any one could see that.”
“Then while she’s with us he’ll go pretty slow. Lee, that’s another reason why she’s got to stay with us. My frien’, it’s time we was moving out from the willows. The next time he comes up with us he won’t be numb in the head. He’ll be thinkin’ fast an’ he’ll be shootin’ a damn sight faster. We got two jobs ahead of us—first to get that Wells Fargo shipment, and then to get Whistling Dan. There ain’t room enough in the whole world for him and me.”
CHAPTER XVI
THE THREE OF US
In the clearing of Whistling Dan and Tex Calder the marshal had turned into his blankets once more. There was no thought of sleep in Dan’s mind. When the heavy breathing of the sleeper began he rose and commenced to pace up and down on the farther side of the open space. Two pairs of glowing eyes followed him in every move. Black Bart, who trailed him up and down during the first few turns he made, now sat down and watched his master with a wistful gaze. The black stallion, who lay more like a dog than a horse on the ground, kept his ears pricked forwards, as if expecting some order. Once or twice he whinnied very softly, and finally Dan sat down beside Satan, his shoulders leaned against the satiny side and his arms flung out along the stallion’s back. Several times he felt hot breath against his cheek as the horse turned a curious head towards him, but he paid no attention, even when the stallion whinnied a question in his ear. In his heart was a numb, strange feeling which made him weak. He was even blind to the fact that Black Bart at last slipped into the shadows of the willows.
Presently something cold touched his chin. He found himself staring into the yellow-green eyes of
Black Bart, who panted from his run, and now dropped from his mouth something which fell into Dan’s lap. It was the glove of Kate Cumberland. In the grasp of his long nervous fingers, how small it was!; and yet the hand which had wrinkled the leather was strong enough to hold the heart of a man. He slipped and caught the shaggy black head of Bart between his hands. The wolf knew—in some mysterious way he knew!
The touch of sympathy unnerved him. All his sorrow and his weakness burst on his soul in a single wave. A big tear struck the shining nose of the wolf.
“Bart!” he whispered. “Did you figger on plumb bustin’ my heart, pal?”
To avoid those large melancholy eyes, Bart pressed his head inside of his master’s arms.
“Delilah!” whispered Dan.
After that not a sound came from the three, the horse, the dog, or the man. Black Bart curled up at the feet of his master and seemed to sleep, but every now and then an ear raised or an eye twitched open. He was on guard against a danger which he did not understand. The horse, also, with a high head scanned the circling willows, alert; but the man for whom the stallion and the wolf watched gave no heed to either. There was a vacant and dreamy expression in his eye as if he was searching his own inner heart and found there the greatest enemy of all. All night they sat in this manner, silent, moveless; the animals watching against the world, the man watching against himself. Before dawn he roused himself suddenly, crossed to the sleeping marshal, and touched him on the arm.
“It’s time we hit the trail,” he said, as Calder sat up in the blanket.
“What’s happened? Isn’t it our job to comb the willows?”
“Silent ain’t in the willows.”
Calder started to his feet.
“How do you know?”
“They ain’t close to us, that’s all I know.”
Tex smiled incredulously.
“I suppose,” he said good humouredly, “that your instinct brought you this message?”
“Instinct?” repeated Dan blankly, “I dunno.”
Calder grew serious.
“We’ll take a chance that you may be right. At least we can ride down the river bank and see if there are any fresh tracks in the sand. If Silent started this morning I have an idea he’ll head across the river and line out for the railroad.”
In twenty minutes their breakfast was eaten and they were in the saddle. The sun had not yet risen when they came out of the willows to the broad shallow basin of the river. In spring, when the snow of the mountains melted, that river filled from bank to bank with a yellow torrent; at the dry season of the year it was a dirty little creek meandering through the sands. Down the bank they rode at a sharp trot for a mile and a half until Black Bart, who scouted ahead of them at his gliding wolf-trot, came to an abrupt stop. Dan spoke to Satan and the stallion broke into a swift gallop which left the pony of Tex Calder labouring in the rear. When they drew rein beside the wolf, they found seven distinct tracks of horses which went down the bank of the river and crossed the basin. Calder turned with a wide-eyed amazement to Dan.
“You’re right again,” he said, not without a touch of vexation in his voice; “but the dog stopped at these tracks. How does he know we are hunting for Silent’s crew?”
“I dunno,” said Dan, “maybe he jest suspects.”
“They can’t have a long start of us,” said Calder. “Let’s hit the trail. Well get them before night.”
“No,” said Dan, “we won’t.”
“Why won’t we?”
“I’ve seen Silent’s hoss, and I’ve ridden him. If the rest of his gang have the same kind of hoss flesh, you c’n never catch him with that cayuse of yours.”
“Maybe not today,” said Calder, “but in two days we’ll run him down. Seven horses can’t travel as two in a long chase.”
They started out across the basin, keeping to the tracks of Silent’s horses. It was the marshal’s idea that the outlaws would head on a fairly straight line for the railroad and accordingly when they lost the track of the seven horses they kept to this direction. Twice during the day they verified their course by information received once from a range rider and once from a man in a dusty buck-board. Both of these had sighted the fast travelling band, but each had seen it pass an hour or two before Calder and Dan arrived. Such tidings encouraged the marshal to keep his horse at an increasing speed; but in the middle of the afternoon, though black Satan showed little or no signs of fatigue, the cattle-pony was nearly blown and they were forced to reduce their pace to the ordinary dog-trot.
CHAPTER XVII
THE PANTHER’S PAW
Evening came and still they had not sighted the outlaws. As dark fell they drew near a house snuggled away among a group of cottonwoods. Here they determined to spend the night, for Calder’s pony was now almost exhausted. A man of fifty came from the house in answer to their call and showed them the way to the horse-shed. While they unsaddled their horses he told them his name was Sam Daniels, yet he evinced no curiosity as to the identity of his guests, and they volunteered no information. His eyes lingered long and fondly over the exquisite lines of Satan. From behind, from the side, and in front, he viewed the stallion while Dan rubbed down the legs of his mount with a care which was most foreign to the ranges. Finally the cattleman reached out a hand toward the smoothly muscled shoulders.
It was Calder who stood nearest and he managed to strike up Daniels’s extended arm and jerk him back from the region of danger.
“What’n hell is that for?” exclaimed Daniels.
“That horse is called Satan,” said Calder, “and when any one save his owner touches him he lives up to his name and raises hell.”
Before Daniels could answer, the light of his lantern fell upon Black Bart, hitherto half hidden by the deepening shadows of the night, but standing now at the entrance of the shed. The cattleman’s teeth clicked together and he slapped his hand against his thigh in a reach for the gun which was not there.
“Look behind you,” he said to Calder. “A wolf!”
He made a grab for the marshal’s gun, but the latter forestalled him.
“Go easy, partner,” he said, grinning, “that’s only the running mate of the horse. He’s not a wolf, at least not according to his owner—and as for being wild—look at that!”
Bart had stalked calmly into the shed and now lay curled up exactly beneath the feet of the stallion.
The two guests received a warmer welcome from Sam Daniels’ wife when they reached the house. Their son, Buck, had been expected home for supper, but it was too late for them to delay the meal longer. Accordingly they sat down at once and the dinner was nearly over when Buck, having announced himself with a whoop as he rode up, entered, banging the door loudly behind him. He greeted the strangers with a careless wave of the hand and sat down at the table. His mother placed food silently before him. No explanations of his tardiness were asked and none were offered. The attitude of his father indicated clearly that the boy represented the earning power of the family. He was a big fellow with broad, thick wrists, and a straight black eye. When he had eaten, he broke into breezy conversation, and especially of a vicious mustang he had ridden on a bet the day before.
“Speakin’ of hosses, Buck,” said his father, “they’s a black out in the shed right now that’d make your eyes jest nacherally pop out’n their sockets. No more’n fifteen hands, but a reg’lar picture. Must be greased lightnin’.”
“I’ve heard talk of these streaks of greased lightnin’,” said Buck, with a touch of scorn, “but I’ll stack old Mike agin the best of them.”
“An’ there’s a dog along with the hoss—a dog that’s the nearest to a wolf of any I ever seen.”
There was a sudden change in Buck—a change to be sensed rather than definitely noted with the eye. It was a stiffening of his body—an alertness of which he was at pains to make no show. For almost immediately he began to whistle softly, idly, his eyes roving carelessly across the wall while he tilted back in his
chair. Dan dropped his hand close to the butt of his gun. Instantly, the eyes of Buck flashed down and centered on Dan for an instant of keen scrutiny. Certainly Buck had connected that mention of the black horse and the wolf-dog with a disturbing idea.
When they went to their room—a room in which there was no bed and they had to roll down their blankets on the floor—Dan opened the window and commenced to whistle one of his own wild tunes. It seemed to Calder that there was a break in that music here and there, and a few notes grouped together like a call. In a moment a shadowy figure leaped through the window, and Black Bart landed on the floor with soft padding feet.
Recovering from his start Calder cursed softly.
“What’s the main idea?” he asked.
Dan made a signal for a lower tone.
“There ain’t no idea,” he answered, “but these Daniels people—do you know anything about them?”
“No. Why?”
“They interest me, that’s all.”
“Anything wrong?”
“I guess not.”
“Why did you whistle for this infernal wolf? It makes me nervous to have him around. Get out, Bart.”
The wolf turned a languid eye upon the marshal.
“Let him be,” said Dan. “I don’t feel no ways nacheral without havin’ Bart around.”
The marshal made no farther objections, and having rolled himself in his blankets was almost immediately asleep and breathing heavily. The moment Dan heard his companion draw breath with a telltale regularity, he sat up again in his blankets. Bart was instantly at his side. He patted the shaggy head lightly, and pointed towards the door.
“Guard!” he whispered.
Then he lay down and was immediately asleep. Bart crouched at his feet with his head pointed directly at the door.
In other rooms there was the sound of the Daniels family going to bed—noises distinctly heard throughout the flimsy frame of the house. After that a deep silence fell which lasted many hours, but in that darkest moment which just precedes the dawn, a light creaking came up the hall. It was very faint and it occurred only at long intervals, but at the first sound Black Bart raised his head from his paws and stared at the door with those glowing eyes which see in the dark.
