Gunman's Reckoning

by Max Brand

  17

  The bar in Milligan's was not nearly so pretentious an affair as the barin Lebrun's, but it was of a far higher class. Milligan had even managedto bring in a few bottles of wine, and he had dispensed cheap claret attwo dollars a glass when the miners wished to celebrate a rare occasion.There were complaints, not of the taste, but of the lack of strength. SoMilligan fortified his liquor with pure alcohol and after that theclaret went like a sweet song in The Corner. Among other things, he soldmint juleps; and it was the memory of the big sign proclaiming this factthat furnished Donnegan with his idea.

  He had George Washington Green put on his town clothes--a riding suit inwhich Godwin had had him dress for the sake of formal occasions.Resplendent in black boots, yellow riding breeches, and blue silk shirt,the big man came before Donnegan for instructions.

  "Go down to Milligan's," said the master. "They don't allow coloredpeople to enter the door, but you go to the door and start for the bar.They won't let you go very far. When they stop you, tell them you comefrom Donnegan and that you have to get me some mint for a julep.Insist. The bouncer will start to throw you out."

  George showed his teeth.

  "No fighting back. Don't lift your hand. When you find that you can'tget in, come back here. Now, ride."

  So George mounted the horse and went. Straight to Milligan's he rode anddismounted; and half of The Corner's scant daytime population came intothe street to see the brilliant horseman pass.

  Scar-faced Lewis met the big man at the door. And size meant little toAndy, except an easier target.

  "Well, confound my soul," said Lewis, blocking the way. "A Negro inMilligan's? Get out!"

  Big George did not move.

  "I been sent, mister," he said mildly. "I been sent for enough mint tomake a julep."

  "You been sent to the wrong place," declared Andy, hitching at hiscartridge belt. "Ain't you seen that sign?"

  And he pointed to the one which eliminated colored patrons.

  "Signs don't mean nothin' to my boss," said George.

  "Who's he?"

  "Donnegan."

  "And who's Donnegan?"

  It puzzled George. He scratched his head in bewilderment seeking for anexplanation. "Donnegan is--Donnegan," he explained.

  "I heard Gloster talk about him," offered someone in the rapidly growinggroup. "He's the gent that rented the two places on the hill."

  "Tell him to come himse'f," said Andy Lewis. "We don't play no favoritesat Milligan's."

  "Mister," said big George, "I don't want to bring no trouble on thisheah place, but--don't make me go back and bring Donnegan."

  Even Andy Lewis was staggered by this assurance.

  "Rules is rules," he finally decided. "And out you go."

  Big George stepped from the doorway and mounted his horse.

  "I call on all you gen'lemen," he said to the assembled group, "to saythat I done tried my best to do this peaceable. It ain't me that's sentfor Donnegan; it's him!"

  He rode away, leaving Scar-faced Lewis biting his long mustaches inanxiety. He was not exactly afraid, but he waited in the suspense whichcomes before a battle. Moreover, an audience was gathering. The wordwent about as only a rumor of mischief can travel. New men had gathered.The few day gamblers tumbled out of Lebrun's across the street to watchthe fun. The storekeepers were in their doors. Lebrun himself, witheredand dark and yellow of eye, came to watch. And here and there throughthe crowd there was a spot of color where the women of the townappeared. And among others, Nelly Lebrun with Jack Landis beside her. Onthe whole it was not a large crowd, but what it lacked in size it madeup in intense interest.

  For though The Corner had had its share of troubles of fist and gun,most of them were entirely impromptu affairs. Here was a fight in theoffing for which the stage was set, the actors set in full view of aconveniently posted audience, and all the suspense of a curtain rising.The waiting bore in upon Andy Lewis. Without a doubt he intended to killhis man neatly and with dispatch, but the possibility of missing beforesuch a crowd as this sent a chill up and down his spine. If he failednow his name would be a sign for laughter ever after in The Corner.

  A hum passed down the street; it rose to a chuckle, and then fell awayto sudden silence, for Donnegan was coming.

  He came on a prancing chestnut horse which sidled uneasily on a weavingcourse, as though it wished to show off for the benefit of the rider andthe crowd at once. It was a hot afternoon and Donnegan's linen ridingsuit shone an immaculate white. He came straight down the street, asunaware of the audience which awaited him as though he rode in a parkwhere crowds were the common thing. Behind him came George Green, just acareful length back. Rumor went before the two with a whisper on eitherside.

  "That's Donnegan. There he comes!"

  "Who's Donnegan?"

  "Gloster's man. The one who bluffed out Gloster and three others."

  "He pulled his shooting iron and trimmed the whiskers of one of 'em witha chunk of lead."

  "D'you mean that?"

  "What's that kind of a gent doing in The Corner?"

  "Come to buy, I guess. He looks like money."

  "Looks like a confounded dude."

  "We'll see his hand in a minute."

  Donnegan was now opposite the dance hall, and Andy Lewis had his handtouching the butt of his gun, but though Donnegan was looking straightat him, he kept his reins in one hand and his heavy riding crop in theother. And without a move toward his own gun, he rode straight up to thedoor of the dance hall, with Andy in front of it. George drew reinbehind him and turned upon the crowd one broad, superior grin.

  As who should say: "I promised you lightning; now watch it strike!"

  If the crowd had been expectant before, it was now reduced to wire-drawntenseness.

  "Are you the fellow who turned back my man?" asked Donnegan.

  His quiet voice fell coldly upon the soul of Andy. He strove to warmhimself by an outbreak of temper.

  "They ain't any poor fool dude can call me a fellow!" he shouted.

  The crowd blinked; but when it opened its eyes the gunplay had notoccurred. The hand of Andy was relaxing from the butt of his gun and anexpression of astonishment and contempt was growing upon his face.

  "I haven't come to curse you," said the rider, still occupying his handswith crop and reins. "I've come to ask you a question and get an answer.Are you the fellow who turned back my man?"

  "I guess you ain't the kind I was expectin' to call on me," drawledAndy, his fear gone, and he winked at the crowd. But the others were notyet ready to laugh. Something about the calm face of Donnegan hadimpressed them. "Sure, I'm the one that kicked him out. He ain't allowedin there."

  "It's the last of my thoughts to break in upon a convention in yourcity," replied the grave rider, "but my man was sent on an errand andtherefore he had a right to expect courtesy. George, get off your horseand go into Milligan's place. I want that mint!"

  For a moment Andy was too stunned to answer. Then his voice came harshlyand he swayed from side to side, gathering and summoning his wrath.

  "Keep out boy! Keep out, or you're buzzard meat. I'm warnin'--"

  For the first time his glance left the rider to find George, and thatinstant was fatal. The hand of Donnegan licked out as the snake's tonguedarts--the loaded quirt slipped over in his hand, and holding it by thelash he brought the butt of it thudding on the head of Andy.

  Even then the instinct to fight remained in the stunned man; while hefell, he was drawing the revolver; he lay in a crumpling heap at thefeet of Donnegan's horse with the revolver shoved muzzle first into thesand.

  Donnegan's voice did not rise.

  "Go in and get that mint, George," he ordered. "And hurry. This rascalhas kept me waiting until I'm thirsty."

  Big George hesitated only one instant--it was to sweep the crowd for thesecond time with his confident grin--and he strode through the door ofthe dance hall. As for Donnegan, his only movement was to swing hishorse around and shift ridin
g crop and reins into the grip of his lefthand. His other hand was dropped carelessly upon his hip. Now, boththese things were very simple maneuvers, but The Corner noted that hischange of face had enabled Donnegan to bring the crowd under his eye,and that his right hand was now ready for a more serious bit of work ifneed be. Moreover, he was probing faces with his glance. And every armedman in that group felt that the eye of the rider was directedparticularly toward him.

  There had been one brief murmur; then the silence lay heavily again, forit was seen that Andy had been only slightly stunned--knocked out, as aboxer might be. Now his sturdy brains were clearing. His body stiffenedinto a human semblance once more; he fumbled, found the butt of his gunwith his first move. He pushed his hat straight: and so doing he rakedthe welt which the blow had left on his head. The pain finished clearingthe mist from his mind; in an instant he was on his feet, maddened withshame. He saw the semicircle of white faces, and the whole episodeflashed back on him. He had been knocked down like a dog.

  For a moment he looked into the blank faces of the crowd; someone notedthat there was no gun strapped at the side of Donnegan. A voice shouteda warning.

  "Stop, Lewis. The dude ain't got a gun. It's murder!"

  It was now that Lewis saw Donnegan sitting the saddle directly behindhim, and he whirled with a moan of fury. It was a twist of his body--inhis eagerness--rather than a turning upon his feet. And he was halfaround before the rider moved. Then he conjured a gun from somewhere inhis clothes. There was the flash of the steel, an explosion, andScar-faced Lewis was on his knees with a scream of pain holding hisright forearm with his left hand.

  The crowd hesitated still for a second, as though it feared tointerfere; but Donnegan had already put up his weapon. A wave of thecurious spectators rushed across the street and gathered around theinjured man. They found that he had been shot through the fleshy part ofthe thumb, and the bullet, ranging down the arm, had sliced a furrow tothe bone all the way to the elbow. It was a grisly wound.

  Big George Washington Green came running to the door of the dance hallwith a sprig of something green in his hand; one glance assured him thatall was well; and once more that wide, confident grin spread upon hisface. He came to the master and offered the mint; and Donnegan, raisingit to his face, inhaled the scent deeply.

  "Good," he said. "And now for a julep, George! Let's go home!"

  Across the street a dark-eyed girl had clasped the arm of her companionin hysterical excitement.

  "Did you see?" she asked of her tall companion.

  "I saw a murderer shoot down a man; he ought to be hung for it!"

  "But the mint! Did you see him smile over it? Oh, what a devil he is;and what a man!"

  Jack Landis flashed a glance of suspicion down at her, but her dancingeyes had quite forgotten him. They were following the progress ofDonnegan down the street. He rode slowly, and George kept that formaldistance, just a length behind.