Delphi Works of Robert E. Howard (Illustrated) (Series Four)

by Robert E. Howard

  Just then, however, a clump of bushes parted, nigh, the river bank, and a big black-bearded man riz up from behind a dead hoss. He had a six-shooter in his hand and he approached me cautiously.

  “Who’re you?” he demanded suspiciously. “Whar’d you come from?”

  “I’m Breckinridge Elkins,” I answered, wringing the blood outa my shirt. “What is this here business, anyway?”

  “I was settin’ here peaceable waitin’ for the river to go down so I could cross,” he says, “when up rode these yeggs and started shootin’. I’m a honest citizen—”

  “Yo’re a liar,” I said with my usual diplomacy. “Yo’re Joel Cairn, the wust outlaw in these hills. I seen yore picher in the post office at Chawed Ear.”

  With that he p’inted his .45 at me and his beard bristled like the whiskers of a old timber wolf.

  “So you know me, hey?” he said. “Well, what you goin’ to do about it, hey? Want to colleck the reward money, hey?”

  “Naw, I don’t,” I says. “I’m a outlaw myself, now. I just run foul of the law account of these skunks. They’s a posse right behind me.”

  “They is?” he snarled. “Why’nt you say so? Here, le’s catch these fellers’ hosses and light out. Cheapskates! They claims I double-crossed ’em in the matter of a stagecoach hold-up we pulled together recent. I been avoidin’ ’em ‘cause I’m a peaceful man by nater, but they rode onto me onexpected awhile ago. They shot down my hoss first crack; we been tradin’ lead for more’n a hour, without doin’ much damage, but they’d got me eventually, I reckon. Come on. We’ll pull out together.

  “No, we won’t,” I said. “I’m a outlaw by force of circumstances, but I ain’t no murderin’ bandit.”

  “Purty particular of yore comperny, ain’tcha?” he sneered. “Well, anyway, help me catch me a hoss. Yore’s is still up thar on that bluff. The day’s still young—”

  He pulled out a big gold watch and looked at it; it was one which wound with a key.

  I jumped like I was shot. “Where’d you git that watch?” I hollered.

  He jerked up his head kinda startled, and said: “My grandpap gimme it. Why?”

  “You’re a liar!” I bellered. “You taken that off’n my Uncle Garfield. Gimme that watch!”

  “Air you crazy?” he yelled, going white under his whiskers. I plunged for him, seeing red, and he let bang! and I got it in the left thigh. Before he could shoot again I was on top of him and knocked the gun up. It banged but the bullet went singing up over the bluff and Cap’n Kidd squealed with rage and started changing ends. The pistol flew outa Cairn’s hand and he hit hit me vi’lently on the nose which made me see stars. So I hit him in the belly and he grunted and doubled up; and come up with a knife out of his boot which he cut me acrost the boozum with, also in the arm and shoulder and kicked me in the groin. So I swung him clear of the ground and throwed him down headfirst and jumped on him with both boots. And that settled his hash.

  I picked up the watch where it had fell, and staggered over to the cliff, spurting blood at every step like a stuck hawg.

  “At last my search is at a end!” I panted. “I can go back to Ellen Reynolds who patiently awaits the return of her hero—”

  It was at this instant that Cap’n Kidd, which had been stung by Cairn’s wild shot and was trying to buck off his saddle, bucked hisself off the bluff. He fell on me...

  The first thing I heard was bells ringing, and then they turned to hosses galloping. I sot up and wiped off the blood which was running into my eyes from where Cap’n Kidd’s left hind shoe had split my sculp. And I seen Sheriff Hopkins, Jackson and Partland come tearing around the ridge. I tried to get up and run, but my right laig wouldn’t work. I reched for my gun and it still wasn’t there. I was trapped.

  “Look there!” yelled Hopkins, plumb wild-eyed. “That’s Bixby on the ground — and all his gang! And ye gods, there’s Joel Cairn! What is this, anyway? It looks like a battle-field! What’s that settin’ there? He’s so bloody I cain’t rekernize him!”

  “It’s the hillbilly!” yelped Jackson. “Don’t move or I’ll shoot’cha!”

  “I already been shot,” I snarled. “Gwan — do yore wust. Fate is agen me.”

  They dismounted and stared in awe.

  “Count the dead, boys,” said Hopkins in a still, small voice.

  “Aw,” said Partland, “ain’t none of ’em dead, but they’ll never be the same men again. Look! Bixby’s comin’ to! Who done this, Bixby?”

  Bixby cast a wabbly eye about till he spied me, and then he moaned and shrivelled up. “He tried to sculp me!” he wailed. “He ain’t human!”

  They all looked at me, and all taken their hats off.

  “Elkins,” says Hopkins in a tone of reverence, “I see it all now. They fooled you into thinkin’ they was the posse and we was the outlaws, didn’t they? And when you realized the truth, you hunted ’em down, didn’t you? And cleaned ’em out single-handed, and Joel Cairn, too, didn’t you?”

  “Well,” I said groggily, “the truth is—”

  “We understand,” Hopkins soothed. “You mount tain men is all modest. Hey, boys, tie up them outlaws whilst I look at Elkins’ wounds.”

  “If you’ll catch my hoss,” I said, “I got to be ridin’ back—”

  “Gee whiz, man!” he said, “you ain’t in no shape to ride a hoss! Do you know you got five busted ribs and a fractured arm, and one laig broke and a bullet in the other’n, to say nothin’ of bein’ slashed to ribbons? We’ll rig up a litter for you. What’s that you got in yore good hand?”

  I suddenly remembered Uncle Garfield’s watch which I’d kept clutched in a death grip. I stared at what I held in my hand; and I fell back with a low moan. All I had in my hand was a bunch of busted metal and broken wheels and springs, bent and smashed plumb beyond recognition.

  “Grab him!” yelled Hopkins. “He’s fainted!”

  “Plant me under a pine tree, boys,” I murmured weakly. “Just kyarve onto my tombstone: ‘He fit a good fight but Fate dealt him the joker.’”

  A few days later a melancholy procession wound its way up the trail to Bear Creek. I was being toted on a litter. I told ’em I wanted to see Ellen Reynolds before I died, and to show Uncle Garfield the rooins of the watch so he’d know I done my duty as I seen it.

  When we’d got to within a few miles of my home cabin, who should meet us but Jim Braxton, which tried to conceal his pleasure when I told him in a weak voice that I was a dying man. He was all dressed up in new buckskins and his exuberance was plumb disgustful to a man in my condition.

  “Too bad,” says he. “Too bad, Breckinridge. I hoped to meet you, but not like this, of course. Yore pap told me to tell you about yore Uncle Garfield’s watch if I seen you. He thought I might run into you on my way to Chawed Ear to git a licence—”

  “Hey?” I said, pricking up my ears.

  “Yeah, me and Ellen Reynolds is goin’ to git married,” he says. “Well, as I started to say, seems like one of them bandits which robbed the stage was a feller whose dad was a friend of yore Uncle Garfield’s back in Texas. He rekernized the name in the watch and sent it back, and it got here the day after you left—”

  They say it was jealousy which made me rise up on my litter and fracture Jim Braxton’s jawbone. I denies that. I stoops to no sech petty practices. What impelled me was family conventions. I couldn’t hit Uncle Garfield; I had to hit somebody; and Jim Braxton jest happened to be the only man in rech.

  * * *

  5. A GENT FROM BEAR CREEK

  “YOU,” says my sister Ouachita, p’inting a accusing finger at me, “ought a be shot for the way you treat Glory McGraw!”

  “Don’t mention that gal’s name to me,” I says bitterly. “I don’t want to hear nothin’ about her. Don’t talk to me about her — why you think I ain’t treated her right?”

  “Well,” says Ouachita, “after they brung you back from Chawed Ear lookin’ like you’d been through a sorghum mill, Glo
ry come right over when she heered you was hurt. And what did you do when she come through the door?”

  “I didn’t do nothin’,” I says. “What’d I do?”

  “You turnt over towards the wall,” says Ouachita, “and you says, says you: ‘Git that woman outa here; she’s come to t’ant me in my helpless condition!’”

  “Well, she did!” I said fiercely.

  “She didn’t!” says Ouachita. “When she heered you say them words, she turnt pale, and she turnt around and walked outa the cabin with her head up in the air, not sayin’ a word. And she ain’t been back since.”

  “Well, I don’t want her to,” I says. “She come over here jest to gloat on my misery.”

  “I don’t believe no such,” says Ouachita. “First thing she says, was: ‘Is Breckinridge hurt bad?’ And she didn’t say it in no gloatin’ way. She come over here to help you, I bet, and you talked to her like that! You ought to be ashamed.”

  “You mind yore own business,” I advised her, and got up and got outa the cabin to get some peace and quiet.

  I went towards the creek aiming to do a little fishing. My laig had knit proper and quick, and that had been the only thing which had kept me laid up. On my way to the creek I got to thinking over what Ouachita had said, and I thought, well, maybe I was a mite hasty. Maybe Glory did repent of her treatment of me when I was laying wounded. Maybe I ought not to of spoke so bitterly.

  I thought, it’s no more’n my neighborly duty to go over and thank Glory for coming over to see me, and tell her I didn’t mean what I said. I’d tell her I was delirious and thought it was Ellen Reynolds. After all, I was a man with a great, big, generous, forgiving heart, and if forgiving Glory McGraw was going to brighten her life, why, I warn’t one to begrudge it. So I headed for the McGraw cabin — a trail I hadn’t took since the day I shot up Mister Wilkinson.

  I went afoot because I wanted to give my laig plenty of exercise now it was healed. And I hadn’t gone more’n halfway when I met the gal I was looking for. She was riding her bay mare, and we met face to face right spang in the middle of the trail. I taken off my Stetson and says: “Howdy, Glory. You warn’t by any chance headin’ for my cabin?”

  “And why should I be headin’ for yore cabin, Mister Elkins?” she said as stiff and cold as a frozen bowie knife.

  “Well,” I said, kinda abashed, “well — uh — that is, Glory, I jest want to thank you for droppin’ in to see about me when I was laid up, and—”

  “I didn’t,” she snapped. “I jest come to borrer some salt. I didn’t even know you’d been hurt.”

  “What you want to talk like that for, Glory?” I protested. “I didn’t aim to hurt yore feelin’s. Fact is, I war delirious, and thought you was somebody else—”

  “Ellen Reynolds, maybe?” says she sneeringly. “Or was she already there, holdin’ yore hand? Oh, no! I’d plumb forgot! She was gittin’ married to Jim Braxton about that time! Too bad, Breckinridge! But cheer up! Ellen’s got a little sister which’ll be growed up in a few years. Maybe you can git her — if some Braxton don’t beat you to her.”

  “To hell with the Braxtons and the Reynolds too!” I roared, seeing red again. “And you can go along with ‘em, far’s I’m consarned! I was right! Ouachita’s a fool, sayin’ you was sorry for me. You jest come over there to gloat over me when I was laid up!”

  “I didn’t!” she says, in a changed voice.

  “You did, too!” I says bitterly. “You go yore way and I’ll go mine. You think I cain’t git me no woman, just because you and Ellen Reynolds turned me down. Well, you-all ain’t the only women they is! I ain’t goin’ to marry no gal on Bear Creek! I’m goin’ to git me a town-gal!”

  “A town-gal wouldn’t look at a hillbilly like you!” she sneered.

  “Oh, is that so?” I bellered, convulsively jerking some saplings up by the roots in my agitation. “Well, lemme tell you somethin’, Miss McGraw, I’m pullin’ out right now, this very day, for the settlements, where purty gals is thick as flies in watermelon time, and I aim to bring back the purtiest one of the whole kaboodle! You wait and see!”

  And I went storming away from there so blind mad that I fell into the creek before I knowed it, and made a most amazing splash. I thought I heard Glory call me to come back, jest before I fell, but I was so mad I didn’t pay no attention. I’d had about all the badgering I could stand for one day. I clumb out on t’other side, dripping like a muskrat, and headed for the tall timber. I could hear her laughing behind me, and she must of been kinda hysterical, because it sounded like she was crying instead of laughing, but I didn’t stop to see. All I wanted was to put plenty of distance between me and Glory McGraw, and I headed for home as fast as I could laig it.

  It was my fullest intention to saddle Cap’n Kidd and pull out for Chawed Ear or somewheres as quick as I could. I meant what I said about getting me a town-gal. But right then I was fogging head-on into the cussedest mix-up I’d ever saw, up to that time, and didn’t know it. I didn’t even get a inkling of it when I almost stumbled over a couple of figures locked in mortal combat on the bank of the creek.

  I was surprised when I seen who it was. The folks on Bear Creek ain’t exactly what you’d call peaceable by nature, but Erath Elkins and his brother- in-law Joel Gordon had always got along well together, even when they was full of corn juice. But there they was, so tangled up they couldn’t use their bowies to no advantage, and their cussin’ was scandalous to hear.

  Remonstrances being useless, I kicked their knives out of their hands and throwed ’em bodily into the creek. That broke their holds and they come swarming out with blood-thirsty shrieks and dripping whiskers, and attacked me. Seeing they was too blind mad to have any sense, I bashed their heads together till they was too dizzy to do anything but holler.

  “Is this any way for relatives to ack?” I ast disgustedly.

  “Lemme at him!” howled Joel, gnashing his teeth whilst blood streamed down his whiskers. “He’s broke three of my fangs and I’ll have his life!”

  “Stand aside, Breckinridge!” raved Erath. “No man can chaw a ear offa me and live to tell the tale.”

  “Aw, shet up,” I snorted. “Ca’m down, before I sees is yore fool heads harder’n this.” I brandished a large fist under their noses and they subsided sulkily. “What’s all this about?” I demanded.

  “I jest discovered my brother-in-law is a thief,” said Joel bitterly. At that Erath give a howl and a vi’lent plunge to get at his relative, but I kind of pushed him backwards, and he fell over a willer stump.

  “The facks is, Breckinridge,” says Joel, “me and this here polecat found a buckskin poke full of gold nuggets in a holler oak over on Apache Ridge yesterday, right nigh the place whar yore brother Garfield fit them seven wildcats last year. We didn’t know whether somebody in these parts had jest hid it thar for safe-keepin’, or whether some old prospector had left it thar a long time ago and maybe got sculped by the Injuns and never come back to git it. We agreed to leave it alone for a month, and if it was still thar when we come back, we’d feel purty shore that the original owner was dead, and we’d split the gold between us. Well, last night I got to worryin’ lest somebody’d find it which warn’t as honest as me, so this mornin’ I thought I better go see if it was still thar...”

  At this p’int Erath laughed bitterly.

  Joel glared at him ominously and continued: “Well, no sooner I hove in sight of the holler tree than this skunk let go at me from the bresh with a rifle-gun—”

  “That’s a lie!” yelped Erath. “It war jest the other way around!”

  “Not bein’ armed, Breckinridge,” Joel said with dignity, “and realizin’ that this coyote was tryin’ to murder me so he could claim all the gold, I laigged it for home and my weppin’s. And presently I sighted him sprintin’ through the bresh after me.”

  Erath begun to foam slightly at the mouth. “I warn’t chasin’ you!” he howled. “I war goin’ home after my rifle-gun.”
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br />   “What’s yore story, Erath?” I inquired.

  “Last night I drempt somebody had stole the gold,” he answered sullenly. “This mornin’ I went to see if it was safe. Jest as I got to the tree, this murderer begun shootin’ at me with a Winchester. I run for my life, and by some chance I finally run right into him. Likely he thought he’d hived me and was comin’ for the sculp.”

  “Did either one of you see t’other’n shoot at you?” I ast.

  “How could I, with him hid in the bresh?” snapped Joel. “But who else could it been?”

  “I didn’t have to see him,” growled Erath. “I felt the wind of his lead.”

  “But each one of you says he didn’t have no rifle,” I said.

  “He’s a cussed liar,” they accused simultaneous, and would have fell onto each other tooth and nail if they could have got past my bulk. “I’m convinced they’d been a mistake,” I said. “Git home and cool off.”

  “Yo’re too big for me to lick, Breckinridge,” said Erath. “But I warn you, if you cain’t prove to me that it warn’t Joel which tried to murder me, I ain’t goin’ to rest nor sleep nor eat till I’ve nailed his mangy sculp to the highest pine on Apache Ridge.”

  “That goes for me, too,” says Joel, grinding his teeth. “I’m declarin’ truce till tomorrer mornin’. If Breckinridge cain’t show me by then that you didn’t shoot at me, either my wife or yore’n’ll be a widder before midnight.”

  So saying they stalked off in oppersite directions, whilst I stared helplessly after ‘em, slightly dazed at the responsibility which had been dumped onto me. That’s the drawback of being the biggest man in yore settlement. All the relatives piles their trouble onto you. Here it was up to me to stop what looked like the beginnings of a regular family feud which was bound to reduce the population awful. I couldn’t go sparking me no town-gal with all this hell brewing.

  The more I thought of the gold them idjits had found, the more I felt like I ought to go and take a look at it myself, so I went back to the corral and saddled Cap’n Kidd and lit out for Apache Ridge. From the remarks they’d let fall whilst cussing each other, I had a purty good idee where the holler oak was at, and sure enough I found it without much trouble. I tied Cap’n Kidd and clumb up onto the trunk till I reched the holler. And then as I was craning my neck to look in, I heard a voice say: “Another dern thief!”