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

by Robert E. Howard

  This is the way it was: I was dry and hot and thirsty when I hit Chawed Ear, so I went into a saloon and had me a few drinks. Then I was going out and start looking for a gal, when I spied a friendly game of kyards going on between a hoss-thief and three train-robbers, and I decided I’d set in for a hand or so. And whilst we was playing, who should come in but Uncle Jeppard Grimes. I should of knew my day was spoilt the minute he hove in sight. Dern near all the calamities which takes place in southern Nevada can be traced back to that old lobo. He’s got a ingrown disposition and a natural talent for pestering his feller man. Specially his relatives.

  He didn’t say a word about that wild goose chase I went on to get back the gold I thought Wolf Ashley had stole from him. He come over and scowled down on me like I was the missing lynx or something, and purty soon, jest as I was all sot to make a killing, he says: “How can you set there so free and keerless, with four aces into yore hand, when yore family name is bein’ besmirched?”

  I flang down my hand in annoyance, and said: “Now look what you done! What you mean blattin’ out information of sech a private nature? What you talkin’ about, anyhow?”

  “Well,” he says, “durin’ the time you been away from home roisterin’ and wastin’ yore substance in riotous livin’—”

  “I been punchin’ cows!” I said fiercely. “And before that I was chasin’ a man to git back the gold I thought he’d stole from you. I ain’t squandered nothin’ nowheres. Shet up and tell me whatever yo’re a-talkin’ about.”

  “Well,” says he, “whilst you been gone young Dick Blanton of Grizzly Run has been courtin’ yore sister Elinor, and the family’s been expectin’ ’em to set the day, any time now. But now I hear he’s been braggin’ all over Grizzly Run about how he done jilted her. Air you goin’ to set there and let yore sister become the laughin’ stock of the country? When I was a young man—”

  “When you was a young man Dan’l Boone warn’t whelped yet!” I bellered, so mad I included him and everybody else in my irritation. They ain’t nothing upsets me like injustice done to some of my close kin. “Git out of my way! I’m headin’ for Grizzly Run — what yougrinnin’ at, you spotted hyener?” This last was addressed to the hoss-thief in which I seemed to detect signs of amusement.

  “I warn’t grinnin’,” he said.

  “So I’m a liar, I reckon!” I said, impulsively shattering a demi-john over his head, and he fell under the table hollering bloody murder, and all the fellers drinking at the bar abandoned their licker and stampeded for the street hollering: “Take cover, boys! Breckinridge Elkins is on the rampage!”

  So I kicked all the slats out of the bar to relieve my feelings, and stormed out of the saloon and forked Cap’n Kidd. Even he seen it was no time to take liberties with me; he didn’t pitch but seven jumps, and then he settled down to a dead run, and we headed for Grizzly Run.

  Everything kind of floated in a red haze all the way, but them folks which claims I tried to murder’ em in cold blood on the road between Chawed Ear and Grizzly Run is jest narrer-minded and super-sensitive. The reason I shot off everybody’s hats that I met was jest to kind of ca’m my nerves, because I was afeared if I didn’t cool off some by the time I hit Grizzly Run I might hurt somebody. I’m that mild-mannered and retiring by nature that I wouldn’t willing hurt man, beast, nor Injun unless maddened beyond all endurance.

  That’s why I acted with so much self-possession and dignity when I got to Grizzly Run and entered the saloon where Dick Blanton generally hung out.

  “Where’s Dick Blanton?” I demanded, and everybody must of been nervous, because when I boomed out they all jumped and looked around, and the bartender dropped a glass and turned pale.

  “Well,” I hollered, beginning to lose patience. “Where is the coyote?”

  “G-gimme time, will ya?” stuttered the bar-keep. “I — uh — he — uh—”

  “Evadin’ the question, hey?” I said, kicking the foot-rail loose. “Friend of his’n, hey? Tryin’ to pertect him, hey?” I was so overcome by this perfidy that I lunged for him and he ducked down behind the bar and I crashed into it bodily with all my lunge and weight, and it collapsed on top of him, and all the customers run out of the saloon hollering: “Help, murder, Elkins is killin’ the bartender!”

  That individual stuck his head up from amongst the rooins of the bar and begged: “For God’s sake, lemme alone! Blanton headed south for the Mezquital Mountains yesterday.”

  I throwed down the chair I was fixing to bust all the ceiling lamps with, and run out and jumped on Cap’n Kidd and headed south, whilst behind me folks emerged from their cyclone cellars and sent a rider up in the hills to tell the sheriff and his deputies they could come on back now.

  I knowed where the Mezquitals was, though I hadn’t never been there. I crossed the Californy line about sundown, and shortly after dark I seen Mezquital Peak looming ahead of me. Having ca’med down somewhat, I decided to stop and rest Cap’n Kidd. He warn’t tired, because that hoss has got alligator blood in his veins, but I knowed I might have to trail Blanton clean to The Angels, and they warn’t no use in running Cap’n Kidd’s laigs off on the first lap of the chase.

  It warn’t a very thick settled country I’d come into, very mountainous and thick timbered, but purty soon I come to a cabin beside the trail and I pulled up and hollered: “Hello!”

  The candle inside was instantly blowed out, and somebody pushed a rifle barrel through the winder and bawled: “Who be you?”

  “I’m Breckinridge Elkins from Bear Creek, Nevada,” I said. “I’d like to stay all night, and git some feed for my hoss.”

  “Stand still,” warned the voice. “We can see you agen the stars, and they’s four rifle-guns a-kiverin’ you.”

  “Well, make up yore minds,” I said, because I could could hear ’em discussin’ me. I reckon they thought they was whispering. One of ’em said: “Aw, he cain’t be a Barlow. Ain’t none of ’em that big.” T’other’n said: “Well, maybe he’s a derned gunfighter they’ve sent for to help ‘em. Old jake’s nephew’s been up in Nevady.”

  “Le’s let him in,” says a third. “We can mighty quick tell what he is.”

  So one of ’em come out and ‘lowed it would be all right for me to stay the night, and he showed me a corral to put Cap’n Kidd in, and hauled out some hay for him.

  “We got to be keerful,” he said. “We got lots of enemies in these hills.”

  We went into the cabin, and they lit the candle again, and sot some corn pone and sow-belly and beans on the table and a jug of corn licker. They was four men, and they said their names was Warren — George, Ezra, Elisha, and Joshua, and they was brothers. I’d always heard tell the Mezquital country was famed for big men, but these fellers warn’t so big — not much over six foot high apiece. On Bear Creek they’d been considered kind of puny and undersized, so to speak.

  They warn’t very talkative. Mostly they sot with their rifles acrost their knees and looked at me without no expression onto their faces, but that didn’t stop me from eating a hearty supper, and would of et a lot more only the grub give out; and I hoped they had more licker somewheres else because I was purty dry. When I turned up the jug to take a snort it was brim-full, but before I’d more’n dampened my gullet the dern thing was plumb empty.

  When I got through I went over and sot down on a raw-hide bottomed chair in front of the fire-place where they warn’t no fire because it was summer time, and they said: “What’s yore business, stranger?”

  “Well,” I said, not knowing I was going to get the surprise of my life, “I’m lookin’ for a feller named Dick Blanton—”

  By golly, the words warn’t clean out of my mouth when they was four men onto my neck like catamounts!

  “He’s a spy!” they hollered. “He’s a cussed Barlow! Shoot him! Stab him! Hit him on the head!”

  All of which they was endeavoring to do with such passion they was getting in each other’s way, and it was only his over-eager
ness which caused George to miss me with his bowie and sink it into the table instead, but Joshua busted a chair over my head and Elisha would of shot me if I hadn’t jerked back my head so he jest singed my eyebrows. This lack of hospitality so irritated me that I riz up amongst ’em like a b’ar with a pack of wolves hanging onto him, and commenced committing mayhem on my hosts, because I seen right off they was critters which couldn’t be persuaded to respect a guest no other way.

  Well, the dust of battle hadn’t settled, the casualities was groaning all over the place, and I was jest relighting the candle when I heard a hoss galloping up the trail from the south. I wheeled and drawed my guns as it stopped before the cabin. But I didn’t shoot, because the next instant they was a bare-footed gal standing in the door. When she seen the rooins she let out a screech like a catamount.

  “You’ve kilt ‘em!” she screamed. “You murderer!”

  “Aw, I ain’t, neither,” I said. “They ain’t hurt much — jest a few cracked ribs and dislocated shoulders and busted laigs and sech-like trifles. Joshua’s ear’ll grow back on all right, if you take a few stitches into it.”

  “You cussed Barlow!” she squalled, jumping up and down with the hystericals. “I’ll kill you! You damned Barlow!”

  “I ain’t no Barlow, dern it,” I said. “I’m Breckinridge Elkins, of Bear Creek. I ain’t never even heard of no Barlows.”

  At that George stopped his groaning long enough to snarl: “If you ain’t a friend of the Barlows, how come you askin’ for Dick Blanton? He’s one of ‘em.”

  “He jilted my sister!” I roared. “I aim to drag him back and make him marry her.”

  “Well, it was all a mistake,” groaned George. “But the damage is done now.”

  “It’s wuss’n you think,” said the gal fiercely. “The Warrens has all forted theirselves over at pap’s cabin, and they sent me to git you boys. We got to make a stand. The Barlows is gatherin’ over to Jake Barlow’s cabin, and they aims to make a foray onto us tonight. We was outnumbered to begin with, and now here’s our best fightin’ men laid out! Our goose is cooked plumb to hell!”

  “Lift me onto my hoss,” moaned George. “I cain’t walk, but I can still shoot.” He tried to rise up, and fell back cussing and groaning.

  “You got to help us!” said the gal desperately, turning to me. “You done laid out our four best fightin’ men, and you owes it to us. It’s yore duty! Anyway, you says Dick Blanton’s yore enemy — well, he’s Jake Barlow’s nephew, and he come back here to help ’em clean out us Warrens. He’s over to Jake’s cabin right now. My brother Bill snuck over and spied on ‘em, and he says every fightin’ man of the clan is gatherin’ there. All we can do is hold the fort, and you got to come help us hold it! Yo’re nigh as big as all four of these boys put together.”

  Well, I figgered I owed the Warrens something, so, after setting some bones and bandaging some wounds and abrasions of which they was a goodly lot, I saddled Cap’n Kidd and we sot out.

  As we rode along she said: “That there is the biggest, wildest, meanest- lookin’ critter I ever seen. Is he actually a hoss, or some kind of a varmint?”

  “He’s a hoss,” I said. “But he’s got painter’s blood and a shark’s disposition. What’s this here feud about?”

  “I dunno,” she said. “It’s been goin’ on so long everybody’s done forgot what started it. Somebody accused somebody else of stealin’ a cow, I think. What’s the difference?”

  “They ain’t none,” I assured her. “If folks wants to have feuds it’s their own business.”

  We was follering a winding path, and purty soon we heard dogs barking and about that time the gal turned aside and got off her hoss, and showed me a pen hid in the bresh. It was full of hosses.

  “We keep our mounts here so’s the Barlows ain’t so likely to find ’em and run ’em off,” she said, and she turnt her hoss into the pen, and I put Cap’n Kidd in, but I tied him over in one corner by hisself — otherwise he would of started fighting all the other hosses and kicked the fence down.

  Then we went on along the path and the dogs barked louder and purty soon we come to a big two-story cabin which had heavy board-shutters over the winders. They was jest a dim streak of candle light come through the cracks. It was dark, because the moon hadn’t come up. We stopped in the shadders of the trees, and the gal whistled like a whippoorwill three times, and somebody answered from up on the roof. A door opened a crack in a room which didn’t have no light at all, and somebody said: “That you, Elizerbeth? Air the boys with you?”

  “It’s me,” says she, starting towards the door. “But the boys ain’t with me.”

  Then all to onst he throwed open the door and hollered: “Run, gal! They’s a grizzly b’ar standin’ up on his hind laigs right behind you!”

  “Aw, that ain’t no b’ar,” says she. “That there’s Breckinridge Elkins, from up in Nevady. He’s goin’ to help us fight the Barlows.”

  We went on into a room where they was a candle on the table, and they was nine or ten men there and thirty-odd women and chillern. They all looked kinda pale and scairt, and the men was loaded down with pistols and Winchesters.

  They all looked at me kind of dumb-like, and the old man kept staring at me like he warn’t any too sure he hadn’t let a grizzly in the house, after all. He mumbled something about making a natural mistake, in the dark, and turnt to the gal, and demanded: “Whar’s the boys I sent you after?”

  And she says: “This gent mussed ’em up so’s they ain’t fitten for to fight. Now, don’t git rambunctious, Pap. It war jest a honest mistake all around. He’s our friend, and he’s gunnin’ for Dick Blanton.”

  “Ha! Dick Blanton!” snarled one of the men, lifting his Winchester. “Jest lemme line my sights on him! I’ll cook his goose!”

  “You won’t, neither,” I said. “He’s got to go back to Bear Creek and marry my sister Elinor. Well,” I says, “what’s the campaign?”

  “I don’t figger they’ll git here till well after midnight,” said Old Man Warren. “All we can do is wait for ‘em.”

  “You means you all sets here and waits till they comes and lays siege?” I says.

  “What else?” says he. “Lissen here, young man, don’t start tellin’ me how to conduck a feud. I growed up in this here’n. It war in full swing when I was born, and I done spent my whole life carryin’ it on.”

  “That’s jest it,” I snorted. “You lets these dern wars drag on for generations. Up in the Humbolts we bring sech things to a quick conclusion. Mighty nigh everybody up there come from Texas, original, and we fights our feuds Texas style, which is short and sweet — a feud which lasts ten years in Texas is a humdinger. We winds ’em up quick and in style. Where-at is this here cabin where the Barlows is gatherin’?”

  “‘Bout three mile over the ridge,” says a young feller they called Bill.

  “How many is they?” I ast.

  “I counted seventeen,” says he.

  “Jest a fair-sized mouthful for a Elkins,” I said. “Bill, you guide me to that there cabin. The rest of you can come or stay, it don’t make no difference to me.”

  Well, they started jawing with each other then. Some was for going and some for staying. Some wanted to go with me, and try to take the Barlows by surprise, but the others said it couldn’t be done — they’d git ambushed theirselves, and the only sensible thing to be did was to stay forted and wait for the Barlows to come. They given me no more heed — jest sot there and augered.

  But that was all right with me. Right in the middle of the dispute, when it looked like maybe the Warrens would get to fighting among theirselves and finish each other before the Barlows could get there, I lit out with the boy Bill, which seemed to have considerable sense for a Warren.

  He got him a hoss out of the hidden corral, and I got Cap’n Kidd, which was a good thing. He’d somehow got a mule by the neck, and the critter was almost at its last gasp when I rescued it. Then me and Bill lit out.

&
nbsp; We follered winding paths over thick-timbered mountainsides till at last we come to a clearing and they was a cabin there, with light and profanity pouring out of the winders. We’d been hearing the last mentioned for half a mile before we sighted the cabin.

  We left our hosses back in the woods a ways, and snuck up on foot and stopped amongst the trees back of the cabin.

  “They’re in there tankin’ up on corn licker to whet their appertites for Warren blood!” whispered Bill, all in a shiver. “Lissen to ‘em! Them fellers ain’t hardly human! What you goin’ to do? They got a man standin’ guard out in front of the door at the other end of the cabin. You see they ain’t no doors nor winders at the back. They’s winders on each side, but if we try to rush it from the front or either side, they’ll see us and fill us full of lead before we could git in a shot. Look! The moon’s comin’ up. They’ll be startin’ on their raid before long.”

  I’ll admit that cabin looked like it was going to be harder to storm than I’d figgered. I hadn’t had no idee in mind when I sot out for the place. All I wanted was to get in amongst them Barlows — I does my best fighting at close quarters. But at the moment I couldn’t think of no way that wouldn’t get me shot up. Of course I could jest rush the cabin, but the thought of seventeen Winchesters blazing away at me from close range was a little stiff even for me, though I was game to try it, if they warn’t no other way.

  Whilst I was studying over the matter, all to onst the hosses tied out in front of the cabin snorted, and back up in the hills something went Oooaaaw- w-w! And a idee hit me.

  “Git back in the woods and wait for me,” I told Bill, as I headed for the thicket where we’d left the hosses.

  I rode up in the hills towards where the howl had come from, and purty soon I lit and throwed Cap’n Kidd’s reins over his head, and walked on into the deep bresh, from time to time giving a long squall like a cougar. They ain’t a catamount in the world can tell the difference when a Bear Creek man imitates one. After awhile one answered, from a ledge jest a few hundred feet away.