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

by Robert E. Howard

  I looked around and seen Uncle Jeppard Grimes p’inting a gun at me.

  “Bear Creek is goin’ to hell,” says Uncle Jeppard. “First it was Erath and Joel, and now it’s you. I aim to throw a bullet through yore hind laig jest to teach you a little honesty. Hold still whilst I draws my bead.”

  With that he started sighting along the barrel of his Winchester, and I says: “You better save yore lead for that Injun over there.”

  Him being a old Injun fighter he jest naturally jerked his head around quick, and I pulled my .45 and shot the rifle out of his hands. I jumped down and put my foot on it, and he pulled a knife out of his leggin’, and I taken it away from him and shaken him till he was so addled when I let him go he run in a circle and fell down cussing something terrible.

  “Is everybody on Bear Creek gone crazy?” I demanded. “Cain’t a man look into a holler tree without gittin’ assassinated?”

  “You was after my gold!” swore Uncle Jeppard.

  “So it’s yore gold, hey?” I said. “Well, a holler tree ain’t no bank.”

  “I know it,” he growled, combing the pine-needles out of his whiskers. “When I come here early this mornin’ to see if it was safe, like I frequent does, I seen right off somebody’d been handlin’ it. Whilst I was meditatin’ over this, I seen Joel Gordon sneakin’ towards the tree. I fired a shot acrost his bows in warnin’ and he run off. But a few minutes later here come Erath Elkins slitherin’ through the pines. I was mad by this time, so I combed his whiskers with a chunk of lead and he high-tailed it. And now, by golly, here you come—”

  “You shet up!” I roared. “Don’t you accuse me of wantin’ yore blame gold. I jest wanted to see if it was safe, and so did Joel and Erath. If them men was thieves, they’d have took it when they found it yesterday. Where’d you git it, anyway?”

  “I panned it, up in the hills,” he said sullenly. “I ain’t had time to take it to Chawed Ear and git it changed into cash money. I figgered this here tree was as good a place as any. But I done put it elsewhar now.”

  “Well,” I said, “you got to go tell Erath and Joel it war you which shot at ‘em, so they won’t kill each other. They’ll be mad at you, but I’ll restrain ‘em, with a hickery club, if necessary.”

  “All right,” he said. “I’m sorry I misjedged you, Breckinridge. Jest to show I trusts you, I’ll show you whar I hid it after I taken it outa the tree.”

  He led me through the trees till he come to a big rock jutting out from the side of a cliff, and p’inted at a smaller rock wedged beneath it.

  “I pulled out that there rock,” he said, “and dug a hole and stuck the poke in. Look!”

  He heaved the rock out and bent down. And then he went straight up in the air with a yell that made me jump and pull my gun with cold sweat busting out all over me.

  “What’s the matter?” I demanded. “Air you snake-bit!”

  “Yeah, by human snakes!” he hollered. “It’s gone! I been robbed!”

  I looked and seen the impressions the wrinkles in the buckskin poke had made in the soft earth. But there warn’t nothing there now.

  Uncle Jeppard was doing a scalp dance with a gun in one hand and a bowie knife in the other’n. “I’ll fringe my leggin’s with their mangy sculps! I’ll pickle their hearts in a barr’l of brine! I’ll feed their gizzards to my houn’ dawgs!” he yelled.

  “Whose gizzards?” I inquired.

  “Whose, you idjit?” he howled. “Joe Gordon and Erath Elkins, dern it! They didn’t run off. They snuck back and seen me move the gold! War-paint and rattlesnakes! I’ve kilt better men than them for less’n half that much!”

  “Aw,” I said, “t’ain’t possible they stole yore gold—”

  “Then whar is it?” he demanded bitterly. “Who else knowed about it?”

  “Look here!” I said, p’inting to a belt of soft loam nigh the rocks. “There’s a hoss’s tracks.”

  “Well, what of it?” he demanded. “Maybe they had hosses tied in the bresh.”

  “Aw, no,” I said. “Look how the calks is sot. They ain’t no hosses on Bear Creek shod like that. These is the tracks of a stranger — I bet the feller I seen ride past my cabin jest about daybreak. A black-whiskered man with one ear missin’. That hard ground by the big rock don’t show where he got off and stomped around, but the man which rode this hoss stole yore gold, I’ll bet my guns.”

  “I ain’t convinced,” says Uncle Jeppard. “I’m goin’ home and ile my rifle- gun, and then I’m goin’ to go over and kill Joel and Erath.”

  “Now you lissen,” I said forcibly, taking hold of the front of his buckskin shirt and h’isting him off the ground by way of emphasis, “I know what a stubborn old jassack you are, Uncle Jeppard, but this time you got to lissen to reason, or I’ll forgit myself to the extent of kickin’ the seat out of yore britches. I’m goin’ to foller this feller and take yore gold away from him, because I know it war him that stole it. And don’t you dare to kill nobody till I git back.”

  “I’ll give you till tomorrer mornin’,” he compromised. “I won’t pull a trigger till then. But,” said Uncle Jeppard waxing poetical, “if my gold ain’t in my hands by the time the mornin’ sun h’ists itself over the shinin’ peaks of the Jackass Mountains, the buzzards will rassle their hash on the carcasses of Joel Gordon and Erath Elkins.”

  I went away from there, and mounted Cap’n Kidd and headed west on the stranger’s trail. A hell of a chance I had to go sparking a town-gal, with my lunatickal relatives thirsting for each other’s gore.

  It was still tolerably early in the morning, and one of them long summer days ahead of me. They warn’t a hoss in the Humbolts which could equal Cap’n Kidd for endurance. I’ve rode him a hundred miles between sundown and sunup. But the hoss the stranger was riding must have been some chunk of hoss-meat hisself, and of course he had a long start of me. The day wore on, and still I hadn’t come up with my man. I’d covered a lot of distance and was getting into country I warn’t familiar with, but I didn’t have no trouble follering his trail, and finally, late in the evening, I come out on a narrer dusty path where the calk-marks of his hoss’s shoes was very plain.

  The sun sunk lower and my hopes dwindled. Even if I got the thief and got the gold, it’d be a awful push to get back to Bear Creek in time to prevent mayhem. But I urged on Cap’n Kidd, and presently we come out into a road, and the tracks I was follering merged with a lot of others. I went on, expecting to come to some settlement, and wondering jest where I was.

  Jest at sundown I rounded a bend in the road and I seen something hanging to a tree, and it was a man. They was another man in the act of pinning something to the corpse’s shirt, and when he heard me he wheeled and jerked his gun — the man, I mean, not the corpse. He was a mean looking cuss, but he warn’t Black Whiskers. Seeing I made no hostile motion, he put up his gun and grinned.

  “That feller’s still kickin’?” I said.

  “We just strung him up,” he said. “The other boys has rode back to town, but I stayed to put this warnin’ on his buzzum. Can you read?”

  “No,” I said.

  “Well,” says he, “this here paper says: ‘Warnin’ to all outlaws and specially them on Grizzly Mountain — Keep away from Wampum.’”

  “How far’s Wampum from here?” I ast.

  “Half a mile down the road,” he said. “I’m Al Jackson, one of Bill Ormond’s deputies. We aim to clean up Wampum. This is one of them outlaws which has denned up on Grizzly Mountain.”

  Before I could say anything more, I heard somebody breathing quick and gaspy, and they was a patter of bare feet in the bresh, and a kid gal about fourteen years old bust into the road.

  “You’ve killed Uncle Joab!” she shrieked. “You murderers! A boy told me they was fixin’ to hang him! I run as fast as I could—”

  “Git away from that corpse!” roared Jackson, hitting at her with his quirt.

  “You stop that!” I ordered. “Don’t you hit that y
oung ‘un.”

  “Oh, please, Mister!” she wept, wringing her hands. “You ain’t one of Ormond’s men. Please help me! He ain’t dead — I seen him move!”

  Waiting for no more I spurred alongside the body and drawed my knife.

  “Don’t you cut that rope!” squawked the deputy, jerking his gun. So I hit him under the jaw and knocked him out of his saddle and into the bresh beside the road where he lay groaning. I then cut the rope and eased the hanged man down onto my saddle and got the noose offa his neck. He was purple in the face and his eyes was closed and his tongue lolled out, but he still had some life in him. Evidently they didn’t drop him, but jest hauled him up to strangle to death.

  I laid him on the ground and worked over him till some of his life begun to come back to him, but I knowed he ought to have medical attention, so I said: “Where’s the nearest doctor?”

  “Doc Richards in Wampum,” whimpered the kid. “But if we take him there Ormond’ll git him again. Won’t you please take him home?”

  “Where you-all live?” I inquired.

  “We been livin’ in a cabin on Grizzly Mountain every since Ormond run us out of Wampum,” she whimpered.

  “Well,” I said, “I’m goin’ to put yore uncle onto Cap’n Kidd and you can set behind the saddle and help hold him on, and tell me which way to go.”

  I done this and Cap’n Kidd didn’t like it none, but after I busted him between the ears with the butt of my six-shooter he subsided and come along sulkily as I led him. As we went I seen that deputy Jackson drag hisself out of the bresh and go limping down the road holding onto his jaw.

  I was losing a awful lot of time, but I couldn’t leave this feller to die, even if he was a outlaw, because probably the little gal didn’t have nobody else to take care of her but him.

  It was well after dark when we come up a narrer trail that wound up a thickly timbered mountain side, and purty soon somebody in a thicket ahead of us hollered: “Halt whar you be or I’ll shoot!”

  “Don’t shoot, Jim!” called the gal. “This is Betty, and we’re bringin’ Uncle Joab home.”

  A tall hard-looking young feller stepped out into the open, p’inting his Winchester at me. He cussed when he seen our load.

  “He ain’t dead,” I said. “But we oughta git him to his cabin.”

  So Jim led the way through the thickets till we come into a clearing where they was a cabin and a woman come running out and screamed like a catamount when she seen Joab. Me and Jim lifted him off and toted him in and laid him on a bunk, and the women begun to work over him, and I went out to my hoss, because I was in a hurry to get gone. Jim follered me.

  “This is the kind of stuff we’ve been havin’ ever since Ormond come to Wampum,” he says bitterly. “We been livin’ up here like rats, afeared to stir in the open. I warned Joab agen slippin’ down into the village to-day, but he was sot on it, and wouldn’t let none of the boys go with him. Said he’d sneak in and git what he wanted and sneak out again.”

  “Well,” I says, “what’s yore business ain’t none of mine. But this here life is hard lines on the women and chillern.”

  “You must be a friend of Joab’s,” he said. “He sent a man east some days ago, but we was afraid one of Ormond’s men trailed him and killed him. But maybe he got through. Air you the man Joab sent for?”

  “Meanin’ am I some gunman come in to clean up the town?” I snorted. “Naw, I ain’t. I never seen this feller Joab before.”

  “Well,” says Jim, “cutting him down like you done has already got you in bad with Ormond. Whyn’t you help us run them fellers out of the country? They’s still a good many of us in these hills, even if we have been run out of Wampum. This hangin’ is the last straw. I’ll round up the boys tonight, and we’ll have a show-down with Ormond’s men. We’re outnumbered, and we been licked bad onst before, but we’ll try it again. Why don’t you throw in with us?”

  “Lissen,” I says, climbing into the saddle, “jest because I cut down a outlaw ain’t no sign I’m ready to be one myself. I done it jest because I couldn’t stand to see the little gal take on so. Anyway, I’m lookin’ for a feller with black whiskers and one ear missin’ which rides a roan with a big Lazy-A brand.”

  Jim fell back from me and lifted his rifle. “You better ride on, then,” he said sombrely. “I’m obleeged to you for what you’ve did — but a friend of Wolf Ashley cain’t be no friend of our’n.”

  I give him a snort of defiance and rode off down the mountains and headed for Wampum, because it was reasonable to suppose that maybe I’d find Black Whiskers there.

  Wampum warn’t much of a town, but they was one big saloon and gambling hall where sounds of hilarity was coming from, and not many people on the streets and them which was mostly went in a hurry. I stopped one of them and ast him where a doctor lived, and he p’inted out a house where he said Doc Richards lived, so I rode up to the door and hollered, and somebody inside said: “What do you want? I got you covered.”

  “Air you Doc Richards?” I said, and he said: “Yes, keep your hands away from your belt or I’ll salivate you.”

  “This is a nice, friendly town!” I snorted. “I ain’t figgerin’ on doin’ you no harm. They’s a man up in the hills which needs yore attention.”

  At that the door opened and a man with red whiskers and a shotgun stuck his head out and said: “Who do you mean?”

  “They call him Joab,” I said. “He’s on Grizzly Mountain.”

  “Hmmmmm!” said Doc Richards, looking at me very sharp where I sot Cap’n Kidd in the starlight. “I set a man’s jaw tonight, and he had a good deal to say about a certain party who cut down a man that was hanged. If you happen to be that party, my advice to you is to hit the trail before Ormond catches you.”

  “I’m hungry and thirsty and I’m lookin’ for a man,” I said. “I aim to leave Wampum when I’m good and ready.”

  “I never argue with a man as big as you,” said Doc Richards. “I’ll ride to Grizzly Mountain as quick as I can get my horse saddled. If I never see you alive again, which is very probable, I’ll always remember you as the biggest man I ever saw, and the biggest fool. Good night!”

  I thought the folks in Wampum is the queerest acting I ever seen. I taken Cap’n Kidd to the barn which served as a livery stable and seen that he was properly fixed in a stall to hisself, as far away from the other hosses as I could get him, because I knowed if he got to ’em he’d chaw the ears off ‘em. The barn didn’t look strong enough to hold him, but I told the livery stable man to keep him occupied with fodder, and to run for me if he got rambunctious. Then I went into the big saloon which was called the Golden Eagle. I was low in my spirits because I seemed to have lost Black Whiskers’ trail entirely, and even if I found him in Wampum, which I hoped, I never could make it back to Bear Creek by sunup. But I hoped to recover that derned gold yet, and get back in time to save a few lives, anyway.

  They was a lot of tough looking fellers in the Golden Eagle drinking and gambling and talking loud and cussing, and they all stopped their noise as I come in, and looked at me very fishy. But I give ’em no heed and went up to the bar, and purty soon they kinda forgot about me, and the racket started up again.

  Whilst I was drinking me a few fingers of whisky, somebody shouldered up to me and said: “Hey!” I turnt around and seen a big, broad-built man with a black beard and blood-shot eyes and a pot-belly and two guns on.

  I says: “Well?”

  “Who air you?” he demanded.

  “Who air you?” I come back at him.

  “I’m Bill Ormond, sheriff of Wampum,” he says. “That’s who!” And he showed me a star onto his shirt.

  “Oh,” I says. “Well, I’m Breckinridge Elkins, from Bear Creek.”

  I noticed a kind of quiet come over the place, and fellers was laying down their glasses and their billiard sticks, and hitching up their belts and kinda gathering around me. Ormond scowled and combed his beard with his fingers, and rocked on h
is heels and said: “I got to ‘rest you!”

  I sot down my glass quick and he jumped back and hollered: “Don’t you dast pull no gun on the law!” And they was a kind of movement amongst the men around me.

  “What you arrestin’ me for?” I demanded. “I ain’t busted no law.”

  “You assaulted one of my deperties,” he said, and then I seen that feller Jackson standing behind the sheriff with his jaw all bandaged up. He couldn’t work his chin to talk. All he could do was p’int his finger at me and shake his fists.

  “You likewise cut down a outlaw we had just hunged,” says Ormond. “Yo’re under arrest!”

  “But I’m lookin’ for a man!” I protested. “I ain’t got time to be arrested!”

  “You should of thunk about that when you busted the law,” opined Ormond. “Gimme yore gun and come along peaceable.”

  A dozen men had their hands on their guns, but it warn’t that which made me give in. Pap had always told me not to resist no officer of the law. It was kind of instinctive for me to hand over my gun to this feller with the star on his shirt. Somehow it didn’t seem right, but I was kind of bewildered and my thoughts was addled. I ain’t one of these fast thinking sharps. So I jest done what pap always told me to do.

  Ormond taken me down the street a-ways, with a whole bunch of men follering us, and stopped at a log building with barred winders which was next to a board shack. A man come out of this shack with a big bunch of keys, and Ormond said he was the jailer. So they put me in the log jail and Ormond went off with everybody but the jailer, who sot down on the step outside his shack and rolled hisself a cigaret.

  They warn’t no light in the jail, but I found the bunk and tried to lay down on it, but it warn’t built for a man six and a half foot tall. I sot down on it and at last realized what a infernal mess I was in. Here I ought to be hunting Black Whiskers and getting the gold to take back to Bear Creek and save the lives of a swarm of my kin-folks, but instead of that I was in jail, and no way of getting out without killing a officer of the law. With daybreak Joel and Erath would be at each others’ throats, and Uncle Jeppard would be gunning for both of ‘em. It was too much to hope that the other relatives would let them three fight it out amongst theirselves. I never seen sech a clan for buttin’ into each others’ business. The guns would be talking all up and down Bear Creek, and the population would be decreasing with every volley. I thunk about it till I got dizzy and then the jailer stuck his head up to the winder and said if I’d give him five dollars he’d go get me something to eat.