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

by Robert E. Howard

  Uncle Esau turnt pale under his whiskers, and I said indignantly: “Why, you low-lifed polecat! You got the crust to pertend to think I’m kidnappin’ my own uncle for his dough? I got a good mind to shoot you.”

  “So yo’re greedy, hey?” he snarled, showing his teeth. “Want all the loot yoreself, hey? I’ll show you!” And quick as a cat he swung that water bucket over his head and let it go at me. I ducked and it hit Uncle Esau in the head and stretched him out all drenched with water, and Hawkins give a roar and dived for a .45-90 on the wall. He wheeled with it and I shot it out of his hands. He then come for me wild-eyed with a bowie out of his boot, and my next cartridge snapped, and he was on top of me before I could cock my gun again.

  I dropped it and grappled with him, and we fit all over the cabin and every now and then we would tromple on Uncle Esau which was trying to crawl towards the door, and the way he would holler was pitiful to hear.

  Hawkins lost his knife in the melee, but he was as big as me, and a bear- cat at rough-and-tumble. We would stand up and whale away with both fists, and then clinch and roll around the floor, biting and gouging and slugging, and onst we rolled clean over Uncle Esau and kind of flattened him out like a pancake.

  Finally Hawkins got hold of the table which he lifted like it was a board and splintered over my head, and this made me mad, so I grabbed the pot off the fire and hit him in the head with it, and about a gallon of red-hot beans went down his back and he fell into a corner so hard he jolted the shelves loose from the logs, and all the guns fell off the walls.

  He come up with a gun in his hand, but his eyes was so full of blood and hot beans that he missed me the first shot, and before he could shoot again I hit him on the chin so hard it fractured his jaw bone and sprained both his ankles and laid him out cold.

  Then I looked around for Uncle Esau, and he was gone and the front door was open. I rushed out of the cabin and there he was jest climbing aboard Cap’n Kidd. I hollered for him to wait, but he kicked Cap’n Kidd in the ribs and went tearing off through the trees. Only he didn’t head north back towards War Paint. He was p’inted south-east, in the general direction of Hideout Mountain. I grabbed my gun up off the floor and lit out after him, though I didn’t have much hope of catching him. Grizzly’s cayuse was a good hoss, but he couldn’t hold a candle to Cap’n Kidd.

  I wouldn’t have caught him, neither, if it hadn’t been for Cap’n Kidd’s determination not to be rode by nobody but me. Uncle Esau was a crack hossman to stay on as long as he did.

  But finally Cap’n Kidd got tired of sech foolishness, and about the time he crossed the trail we’d been follerin’ when he first bolted, he bogged his head and started busting hisself in two, with his snoot rubbing the grass and his heels scraping the clouds offa the sky.

  I could see mountain peaks between Uncle Esau and the saddle, and when Cap’n Kidd start sunfishing it looked like the wrath of Jedgment Day, but somehow Uncle Esau managed to stay with him till Cap’n Kidd plumb left the earth like he aimed to aviate from then on, and Uncle Esau left the saddle with a shriek of despair and sailed head-on into a blackjack thicket.

  Cap’n Kidd give a snort of contempt and trotted off to a patch of grass and started grazing, and I dismounted and went and ontangled Uncle Esau from amongst the branches. His clothes was tore and he was scratched so he looked like he’d been fighting with a drove of wildcats, and he left a right smart bunch of his whiskers amongst the bresh.

  But he was full of pizen and hostility.

  “I understand this here treatment,” he said bitterly, like he blamed me for Cap’n Kidd pitching him into the thicket, “but you’ll never git a penny. Nobody but me knows whar the dough is, and you can pull my toe nails out by the roots before I tells you.”

  “I know you got money hid away,” I said, deeply offended, “but I don’t want it.”

  He snorted skeptical and said sarcastic: “Then what’re you draggin’ me over these cussed hills for?”

  “‘Cause pap wants to see you,” I said. “But they ain’t no use in askin’ me a lot of fool questions. Pap said for me to keep my mouth shet.”

  I looked around for Grizzly’s hoss, and seen he had wandered off. He sure hadn’t been trained proper.

  “Now I got to go look for him,” I said disgustedly. “Will you stay here till I git back?”

  “Sure,” he said. “Sure. Go on and look for the hoss. I’ll wait here.”

  But I give him a searching look, and shook my head.

  “I don’t want to seem like I mistrusts you,” I said, “but I see a gleam in yore eye which makes me believe that you intends to run off the minute my back’s turned. I hate to do this, but I got to bring you safe to Bear Creek; so I’ll just kinda hawg-tie you with my lariat till I git back.”

  Well, he put up a awful holler, but I was firm, and when I rode off on Cap’n Kidd I was satisfied that he couldn’t untie them knots by hisself. I left him laying in the grass beside the trail, and his language was painful to listen to.

  That derned hoss had wandered farther’n I thought. He’d moved north along the trail for a short way, and then turned off and headed in a westerly direction, and after a while I heard hosses galloping somewheres behind me, and I got nervous, thinking what if Hawkins’s gang had got back to their hangout and he’d told ’em about us, and sent ’em after us, to capture pore Uncle Esau and torture him to make him tell where his savings was hid. I wished I’d had sense enough to shove Uncle Esau back in the thicket so he wouldn’t be seen by anybody riding along the trail, and I’d just decided to let the hoss go and turn back, when I seen him grazing amongst the trees ahead of me.

  I caught him and headed back for the trail, aiming to hit it a short piece north of where I’d left Uncle Esau, and before I got in sight of it, I heard hosses and saddles creaking ahead of me.

  I pulled up on the crest of a slope, and looked down onto the trail, and there I seen a gang of men riding north, and they had Uncle Esau amongst ‘em. Two of the men was ridin’ double, and they had him on a hoss in the middle of ‘em. They’d took the ropes off’n him, but he didn’t look happy. Instantly I realized that my premonishuns was correct. The Hawkins gang had follered us, and now pore Uncle Esau was in their clutches.

  I let go of Hawkins’s hoss and reched for my gun, but I didn’t dare fire for fear of hitting Uncle Esau, they was clustered so clost about him. I reched up and tore a limb off a oak tree as big as my arm, and I charged down the slope yelling: “I’ll save you, Uncle Esau!”

  I come so sudden and onexpected them fellers didn’t have time to do nothing but holler before I hit ‘em. Cap’n Kidd ploughed through their hosses like a avalanche through saplings, and he was going so hard I couldn’t check him in time to keep him from knocking Uncle Esau’s hoss sprawling. Uncle Esau hit the turf with a shriek.

  All around me men was yelling and surging and pulling guns and I riz in my stirrups and laid about me right and left, and pieces of bark and oak leaves and blood flew in showers and in a second the ground was littered with writhing figgers, and the hollering and cussing was awful to hear. Knives was flashing and pistols was banging, but them outlaws’ eyes was too full of bark and stars and blood for them to aim, and right in the middle of the brawl, when the guns was roaring and hosses was neighing and men yelling and my oak-limb going crack! crack! crack! on their skulls, down from the north swooped another gang, howling like hyeners!

  “There he is!” one of ’em yelled. “I see him crawlin’ around under them hosses! After him, boys! We got as much right to his dough as anybody!”

  The next minute they’d dashed in amongst us and embraced the members of the other gang and started hammering ’em over the heads with their pistols, and in a second there was the damndest three-cornered war you ever seen, men fighting on the ground and on the hosses, all mixed and tangled up, two gangs trying to exterminate each other, and me whaling hell out of both of ‘em.

  Meanwhile Uncle Esau was on the ground under us, yel
ling bloody murder and being stepped on by the hosses, but finally I cleared me a space with a devastating sweep of my club, and leaned down and scooped him up with one hand and hung him over my saddle horn and started battering my way clear.

  But a big feller which was one of the second gang come charging through the melee yelling like a Injun, with blood running down his face from a cut in his scalp. He snapped a empty ca’tridge at me, and then leaned out from his saddle and grabbed Uncle Esau by the foot.

  “Leggo!” he howled. “He’s my meat!”

  “Release Uncle Esau before I does you a injury!” I roared, trying to jerk Uncle Esau loose, but the outlaw hung on, and Uncle Esau squalled like a catamount in a wolf-trap. So I lifted what was left of my club and splintered it over the outlaw’s head, and he give up the ghost with a gurgle. I then wheeled Cap’n Kidd and rode off like the wind. Them fellers was too busy fighting each other to notice my flight. Somebody did let bam at me with a Winchester, but all it done was to nick Uncle Esau’s ear.

  The sounds of carnage faded out behind us as I headed south along the trail. Uncle Esau was belly-aching about something. I never seen sech a cuss for finding fault, but I felt they was no time to be lost, so I didn’t slow up for some miles. Then I pulled Cap’n Kidd down and said: “What did you say, Uncle Esau?”

  “I’m a broken man!” he gasped. “Take my secret, and lemme go back to the posse. All I want now is a good, safe prison term.”

  “What posse?” I ast, thinking he must be drunk, though I couldn’t figger where he could of got any booze.

  “The posse you took me away from,” he said. “Anything’s better’n bein’ dragged through these hellish mountains by a homicidal maneyack.”

  “Posse?” I gasped wildly. “But who was the second gang?”

  “Grizzly Hawkins’s outlaws,” he said, and added bitterly: “Even they’d be preferable to what I been goin’ through. I give up. I know when I’m licked. The dough’s hid in a holler oak three miles west of Gunstock.”

  I didn’t pay no attention to his remarks, because my head was in a whirl. A posse! Of course; the sheriff and his men had follered us from War Paint, along the Bear Creek trail, and finding Uncle Esau tied up, had thought he’d been kidnapped by a outlaw instead of merely being invited to visit his relatives. Probably he was too cussed ornery to tell ’em any different. I hadn’t rescued him from no bandits; I’d took him away from a posse which thought they was rescuing him.

  Meanwhile Uncle Esau was clamoring: “Well, why’n’t you lemme go? I’ve told you whar the dough is. What else you want?”

  “You got to go on to Bear Creek with me—” I begun; and Uncle Esau give a shriek and went into a kind of convulsion, and the first thing I knowed he’d twisted around and jerked my gun out of its scabbard and let bam! right in my face so close it singed my hair. I grabbed his wrist and Cap’n Kidd bolted like he always does whenever he gets the chance.

  “They’s a limit to everything!” I roared. “A hell of a relative you be, you old maneyack!”

  We was tearing over slopes and ridges at breakneck speed and fighting all over Cap’n Kidd’s back — me to get the gun away from him, and him to commit murder. “If you warn’t kin to me, Uncle Esau,” I said wrathfully, “I’d plumb lose my temper!”

  “What you keep callin’ me that fool name for?” he yelled, frothing at the mouth. “What you want to add insult to injury—” Cap’n Kidd swerved sudden and Uncle Esau tumbled over his neck. I had him by the shirt and tried to hold him on, but the shirt tore. He hit the ground on his head and Cap’n Kidd run right over him. I pulled up as quick as I could and hove a sigh of relief to see how close to home I was.

  “We’re nearly there, Uncle Esau,” I said, but he made no comment. He was out cold.

  A short time later I rode up to the cabin with my eccentric relative slung over my saddle-bow, and I taken him off and stalked into where pap was laying on his b’ar-skin, and slung my burden down on the floor in disgust. “Well, here he is,” I said.

  Pap stared and said: “Who’s this?”

  “When you wipe the blood off,” I said, “you’ll find it’s yore Uncle Esau Grimes. And,” I added bitterly, “the next time you wants to invite him to visit us, you can do it yoreself. A more ungrateful cuss I never seen. Pecooliar ain’t no name for him; he’s as crazy as a locoed jackass.”

  “But that ain’t Uncle Esau!” said pap.

  “What you mean?” I said irritably. “I know most of his clothes is tore off, and his face is kinda scratched and skint and stomped outa shape, but you can see his whiskers is red, in spite of the blood.”

  “Red whiskers turn grey, in time,” said a voice, and I wheeled and pulled my gun as a man loomed in the door.

  It was the grey-whiskered old feller I’d traded shots with on the edge of War Paint. He didn’t go for his gun, but stood twisting his moustache and glaring at me like I was a curiosity or something.

  “Uncle Esau!” said pap.

  “What?” I hollered. “Air you Uncle Esau?”

  “Certainly I am!” he snapped.

  “But you warn’t on the stagecoach—” I begun.

  “Stagecoach!” he snorted, taking pap’s jug and beginning to pour licker down the man on the floor. “Them things is for wimmen and childern. I travel hoss-back. I spent last night in War Paint, and aimed to ride on up to Bear Creek this mornin’. In fact, Bill,” he addressed pap, “I was on the way here when this young maneyack creased me.” He indicated a bandage on his head.

  “You mean Breckinridge shot you?” ejaculated pap.

  “It seems to run in the family,” grunted Uncle Esau.

  “But who’s this?” I hollered wildly, pointing at the man I’d thought was Uncle Esau, and who was jest coming to.

  “I’m Badger Chisom,” he said, grabbing the jug with both hands. “I demands to be pertected from this lunatick and turned over to the sheriff.”

  “Him and Bill Reynolds and Jim Hopkins robbed a bank over at Gunstock three weeks ago,” said Uncle Esau; the real one, I mean. “A posse captured them, but they’d hid the loot somewhere and wouldn’t say where. They escaped several days ago, and not only the sheriffs was lookin’ for ‘em, but all the outlaw gangs too, to find out where they’d hid their plunder. It was a awful big haul. They must of figgered that escapin’ out of the country by stagecoach would be the last thing folks would expect ’em to do, and they warn’t known around War Paint.

  “But I recognized Billy Reynolds when I went back to War Paint to have my head dressed, after you shot me, Breckinridge. The doctor was patchin’ him and Hopkins up, too. I knowed Reynolds back in Arizona. The sheriff and a posse lit out after you, and I follered ’em when I’d got my head fixed. ‘Course, I didn’t know who you was. I come up while the posse was fightin’ with the Hawkins gang, and with my help we corralled the whole bunch. Then I took up yore trail again. Purty good day’s work, wipin’ out two of the wust gangs in the West. One of Hawkins’s men said Grizzly was laid up in his cabin, and the posse was going to drop by for him.”

  “What you goin’ to do about me?” clamored Chisom.

  “Well,” said pap, “we’ll bandage you up good, and then I’ll let Breckinridge here take you back to War Paint — hey, what’s the matter with him?”

  Badger Chisom had fainted.

  * * *

  8. THE SCALP HUNTER

  MY return to War Paint with Badger Chisom was plumb uneventful. He was awful nervous all the way and every time I spoke to him he jumped and ducked like he expected to be shot at, and he hove a distinct sigh of relief when the sheriff taken charge of him. He said something like, “Safe at last, thank God!” and seemed in a sweat to get into a good, strong cell. Criminals is pecooliar people.

  Well, to my surprise I found that I had become a kind of personage in War Paint account of shooting Chisom’s pards and bringing him in. It warn’t a narrer-minded town at all, like the folks over to Chawed Ear had led me to believe. Things was f
ree and easy, big gambling games running all the time, bars open all day and all night, and pistols popping every hour of the day. They had a sheriff but he was a sensible man which didn’t interfere with the business of honest citizens. He ‘lowed it was his job to see that the town warn’t overrun by thieving, murdering outlaws, not to go butting into folks’ affairs. He told me that if I had occasion to shoot another gent he’d take it as a personal favor if I’d be careful not to hit no innercent bystander by mistake, and when I said I would, he said I was a credit to the community, and we had a drink.

  I was about half scairt to go see Dolly Rixby, but I screwed up my courage by thinking of what Glory McGraw would say if I didn’t get me a gal soon, and called on her. She warn’t as peeved as I thought, though she did say: “Well, yo’re a mite late, ain’t you? About two days, I believe! But better late than never, I reckon.”

  She was broad-minded enough to understand my position, and we got along fine. Well, we did after I persuaded them young bucks which was mooning around her that I wasn’t going to stand for no claim-jumping. I had to be kind of subtle about this, because it always made Dolly mad for me to disable any of her admirers. She liked me, but she also seemed to like a lot of other fellers, especially young Blink Wiltshaw, which was a good-looking young miner. Sometimes I wondered whether Dolly’s interest in me was really for myself, or on account of the glory which was reflected onto her by me calling on her regular. Because by this time I’d made quite a name for myself around over the country, jest like I told Glory McGraw I would. But it didn’t make much difference to me, as long as Dolly let me spark her, and I figgered that in a little time more I’d have her roped and hawg-tied and branded, and I drempt of the day when I’d take her back to Bear Creek and interjuice her to everybody as my wife. I plumb gloated over how Glory McGraw’d look then, and got to feeling kind of sorry for her, and decided I wouldn’t rub it in on her too raw. I’d jest be dignified and tolerant, as become a man of my importance.