The Essential Max Brand - 29 Westerns in One Edition. Max Brand
Читать онлайн книгу.
away and saw the red rim of the sun pushing up above the hills. And colour poured up the throat of Kate Cumberland, up even to her forehead beneath the blowing golden hair.
Haines jerked his sombrero lower on his head. A curse tumbled up to his lips and he had to set his teeth to keep it back.
"But I have heard his whistle."
Her lips moved but made no sound.
"Five other men heard him."
She cried out as if he had hurt her, but the hurt was happiness. He knew it and winced, for she was wonderfully beautiful.
"In the willows of the river bottom, a good twenty miles south," he said at last, "and I will show you the way, if you wish."
He watched her eyes grow large with doubt.
"Can you trust me?" he asked. "I failed you once. Can you trust me now?"
Her hand went out to him.
"With all my heart," she said. "Let us start!"
"I've given my horse a hard ride. He must have some rest."
She moaned softly in her impatience, and then: "We'll go back to the house and you can stable your horse there until you're ready to start. Dad will go with us."
"Your father cannot go," he said shortly.
"Cannot?"
"Let's start back for the ranch," he said, "and I'll tell you something about it as we go."
As they turned their horses he went on: "In order that you may reach Whistling Dan, you'll have to meet first a number of men who are camping down there in the willows."
He stopped. It became desperately difficult for him to go on.
"I am one of those men," he said, "and another of them is the one whom Whistling Dan is following."
She caught her breath and turned abruptly on him.
"What are you, Mr. Lee?"
Very slowly he forced his eyes up to meet her gaze.
"In that camp," he answered indirectly, "your father wouldn't be safe!"
It was out at last!
"Then you are—"
"Your friend."
"Forgive me. You are my friend!"
"The man whom Dan is following," he went on, "is the leader. If he gives the command four practised fighters pit themselves against Barry."
"It is murder!"
"You can prevent it," he said. "They know Barry is on the trail, but I think they will do nothing unless he forces them into trouble. And he will force them unless you stop him. No other human being could take him off that trail."
"I know! I know!" she muttered. "But I have already tried, and he will not listen to me!"
"But he will listen to you," insisted Haines, "when you tell him that he will be fighting not one man, but six."
"And if he doesn't listen to me?"
Haines shrugged his shoulders.
"Can't you promise that these men will not fight with him?"
"I cannot."
"But I shall plead with them myself."
He turned to her in alarm.
"No, you must not let them dream you know who they are," he warned, "for otherwise—"
Again that significant shrug of the shoulders.
He explained: "These men are in such danger that they dare not take chances. You are a woman, but if they feel that you suspect them you will no longer be a woman in their eyes."
"Then what must I do?"
"I shall ride ahead of you when we come to the willows, after I have pointed out the position of our camp. About an hour after I have arrived, for they must not know that I have brought you, you will ride down towards the camp. When you come to it I will make sure that it is I who will bring you in. You must pretend that you have simply blundered upon our fire. Whatever you do, never ask a question while you are there—and I'll be your warrant that you will come off safely. Will you try?"
He attempted no further persuasion and contented himself with merely meeting the wistful challenge of her eyes.
"I will," she said at last, and then turning her glance away she repeated softly, "I will."
He knew that she was already rehearsing what she must say to Whistling Dan.
"You are not afraid?"
She smiled.
"Do you really trust me as far as this?"
With level-eyed tenderness that took his breath, she answered: "An absolute trust, Mr. Lee."
"My name," he said in a strange voice, "is Lee Haines."
Of one accord they stopped their horses and their hands met.
11. SILENT BLUFFS
The coming of the railroad had changed Elkhead from a mere crossing of the ways to a rather important cattle shipping point. Once a year it became a bustling town whose two streets thronged with cattlemen with pockets burdened with gold which fairly burned its way out to the open air. At other times Elkhead dropped back into a leaden-eyed sleep.
The most important citizen was Lee Hardy, the Wells Fargo agent. Office jobs are hard to find in the mountain-desert, and those who hold them win respect. The owner of a swivel-chair is more lordly than the possessor of five thousand "dogies." Lee Hardy had such a swivel-chair. Moreover, since large shipments of cash were often directed by Wells Fargo to Elkhead, Hardy's position was really more significant than the size of the village suggested. As a crowning stamp upon his dignity he had a clerk who handled the ordinary routine of work in the front room, while Hardy set himself up in state in a little rear office whose walls were decorated by two brilliant calendars and the coloured photograph of a blond beauty advertising a toilet soap.
To this sanctuary he retreated during the heat of the day, while in the morning and evening he loitered on the small porch, chatting with passers-by. Except in the hottest part of the year he affected a soft white collar with a permanent bow tie. The leanness of his features, and his crooked neck with the prominent Adam's apple which stirred when he spoke, suggested a Yankee ancestry, but the faded blue eyes, pathetically misted, could only be found in the mountain-desert.
One morning into the inner sanctum of this dignitary stepped a man built in rectangles, a square face, square, ponderous shoulders, and even square- tipped fingers. Into the smiling haze of Hardy's face his own keen black eye sparkled like an electric lantern flashed into a dark room. He was dressed in the cowboy's costume, but there was no Western languor in his make-up. Everything about him was clear cut and precise. He had a habit of clicking his teeth as he finished a sentence. In a word, when he appeared in the doorway Lee Hardy woke up, and before the stranger had spoken a dozen words the agent was leaning forward to be sure that he would not miss a syllable.
"You're Lee Hardy, aren't you?" said he, and his eyes gave the impression of a smile, though his lips did not stir after speaking.
"I am," said the agent.
"Then you're the man I want to see. If you don't mind—"
He closed the door, pulled a chair against it, and then sat down, and folded his arms. Very obviously he meant business. Hardy switched his position in his chair, sitting a little more to the right, so that the edge of the seat would not obstruct the movement of his hand towards the holster on his right thigh.
"Well," he said good naturedly, "I'm waitin'."
"Good,"