Читать книгу The Complete Novels of Ernest Haycox - Ernest Haycox - Страница 85

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"If yuh want to see somethin' rich, ripe, and rare," proclaimed Steve Steers, bursting into Grogan's, "come over to the courthouse."

This being on a Saturday afternoon, Grogan's was crowded and lively. The gentlemen to whom Steve addressed his remarks—Denver, Steele, and the Englishman—were considering the state of the nation at one corner of the bar, a bottle conveniently disposed at their elbows.

"Nothing less than murder could interest anybody in Yellow Hill these days," replied Cal Steele amiably. "Have a drink and forget your sorrows."

"It's Fleabite Wilgus and his hoss," said Steve.

"Why didn't you say so in the first place?" drawled Denver. By common consent the four of them grouped together and left the saloon. Just outside all stepped aside and lifted their hats. Lola Monterey walked past with a red parasol bobbing over her jet hair; and her eyes, smiling impartially on them, came to temporary rest on Dave.

"Supper at five, David."

He grinned. "I'll be there, Lola."

She passed on, and the men cut over to the courthouse, Cal Steele grumbling. "How do you rate that, Mister Denver? Seems to me the wicked have all the fun. Going to the dance?"

"Never heard about it."

"You will," prophesied Cal Steele. "It's next week at the Copperhead school. Figure out which woman you're takin' so I can ask the other."

They walked through the courthouse door and turned into the judge's chamber, half filled with spectators. Crowding against the wall, they saw Fleabite Wilgus leap to his feet and interrupt a line of legal palaver. "I'm dummed if I make head er tail to this. The true facts is, that's my horse and I mean to have it."

"Keep your pants on," admonished John Coke, judge of Sundown's justice court. "You're paying attorney fees to Langdell, so let him do the talking. Now, Tuggs..."

Tuggs was an unhappy and impoverished appearing little man past the prime of life. He moved his warped and calloused hands rather helplessly around. "Well, they ain't much more to it, Judge. I come to town and let my rig stand. When I walked outa the New York Store Wilgus had unhitched my hoss and was leadin' him away."

"My horse," said Wilgus in a subterranean mutter.

Tuggs swallowed and said nothing. Niland, who was representing him, said, "All right, Tuggs. Go on. What then?"

"Well, I walks up to Wilgus and I says, 'Fleabite, you got no call to monkey with other people's proputty that away. Gimme my hoss.' I took holt of the headstall. Fleabite says, 'Git away, it's my hoss!' Fleabite then belts me in the face and takes the hoss away. So I had him arrested."

"A pretty pass," fumed Fleabite Wilgus, "when a skinny, no- account runt like him can arrest a man able to buy him out ten thousand times over. Ain't there no decent respeck fer social standin' in this here community?"

Langdell frowned at his client and said, "Shush, you ain't helpin' yourself." Facing the judge, he added, "Why carry it on? Wilgus will admit he struck Tuggs and take the fine. In so far as the horse is concerned, that's another case. If Tuggs will not admit the animal to be Wilgus's horse, then we will start replevin proceedings."

The judge leaned forward and nodded at Wilgus. "What makes you think this to be your horse?"

Wilgus got up, a shambling, ragged man for all his wealth in land and cattle. All about him was the air of narrow sharpness. He spoke in a falsetto whine. "Well, they ain't nothin' to it. I missed that horse four years ago and never heard of him since till this mornin' when I saw Tuggs come to town. I spoke to Tuggs about it, but he wouldn't give me no satisfaction. I will admit bein' a little hasty, but it's my horse."

"Wait a minute," interposed Niland. "You missed that horse four years ago? Now you run a pretty big horse ranch. How many of the brutes have passed through your hands in those four years?"

"Couldn't say," mumbled Wilgus evasively. "Mebbe three-four thousand."

"And you maintain you recognized this particular horse out of four thousand, over an interval of four years?"

"Sure," said Wilgus. "I never forgot a horse's face. Anyhow, that was a particular horse. Sentiment attached to it. I nourished that horse, I loved him like a pet."

Denver leaned near the Englishman, chuckling. "He'd sell his grandmother down the river. Sentiment—shucks."

"What's all this got to do with an assault and battery case?" protested Langdell. "Let's have the fine. We'll go into the other matter later."

"I'm interested," said his honor. "I know Wilgus, I know Tuggs, and I have recollections of the horse. This being a court of first resort I consider it no less than my duty to go so far afield as necessary in any case to prevent subsequent litigation. Why should we embrace the thought of replevin when a simple face- to-face parley might do away with such action? Tuggs, you maintain it is your horse. Where did you get it?"

"I bought it from a trader," said Tuggs. "He ain't in the country any more. That was two years ago. Maybe he's got a Wilgus brand. Most hosses around here have. But he's got other brands likewise. I paid money for the beast. He's mine."

"Hm," said the judge. "Sheriff, bring in the horse."

"Oh, now," protested Langdell, "he'll kick hell out of the furniture."

The judge considered the objection briefly and ruled it out. "Speaking from personal recollection of Tuggs's horse I would say that if the beast is able to kick hell out of this court's furniture, then he is not the horse I think he is. Bring him in, Ortez."

Ortez, the sheriff, departed. In a little while the courtroom heard a hollow, stumbling clatter, followed by the sheriffs pleading voice. "Come on, boy, this ain't goin' to be hard. Listen, you condemned lost soul, hold up yore head! Yeah, now lift yore foot. Quit leanin' on me—yore supposed to be the horse, not me! Well, I know yore tired, but what the hell am I to do about it? Henry—Henry, for God's sake come over here and get this damned brute off my chest!"

Presently Ortez came perspiring into the chamber, dragging a long rope. Next in order was Henry, also hauling on the rope. And finally Tuggs's horse limped through the door. Undoubtedly he was a tired horse. Planting his feet wide apart he rolled his jaded eyes and fetched a dismal groan. He was a wrinkled horse, a sway- backed horse, a horse that embodied every disgraceful thing a horse should not be. His ears flopped limply, his knees interfered, and his lips quivered as if he were about to burst out crying. Practically the only sign of life he displayed to the incredulous courtroom was to sway toward the wall with the presumable intent of leaning against it. Ortez warned the court glumly.

"If you want any testimony from this horse yuh better take it quick. I got to git him out of here afore he dies on me."

"That brings up a debatable point of fact," reflected Niland. "Is he a horse?"

"Well," grunted Ortez, "they's horses and they's horses. This is still another kind of horse."

"He must have been born old," added Niland. "Makes me tired to look at him."

"If he were able to sit," said the court, "I'd offer him a chair. Tuggs, is this the animal you use as a beast of burden?"

"Well, he's all right," muttered Tuggs. "When I got him hitched to a load on a level stretch I can ride in the wagon too. Of course, I have to favor him a little. When we hit a mite of a grade I walk. If the grade gets steep I push. I got to have a horse, don't I?"

"What seems to be the record as to brands?" inquired the court.

Ortez shook his head. "If there's any outfit which ain't put their brand on this horse durin' the past thirty years I fail to detect the absence. He's a walkin' directory."

Denver walked to the beast and ran his hand over one scarred side. Cattleland brands its beef stock freely and without regard for appearances, but a horse is marked as little as possible. Starting just above the stifle, the customary branding spot, Denver began to unravel the story of this jaded charger's peregrinations. He had been a Fee horse, he had stayed a while with Gallant at Flying G. Thence he had moved—all this registered in burns that wandered up from stifle to hip and thence outward along the flank—through Three Pines, Hogpen, Double Ought, Thirty Ranch, Bar Y, Broken Jug, XL, Lazy UT, and the Gate brand of Wilgus. Nor was there any order in the arrangement of brands. They crowded together, overlapped, doubled up—proving anything or nothing.

"Denver," called the court, "I'll designate you as expert witness. What's your impression?"

"Wait a minute," interposed Ortez. "There's two sides to a horse. You ain't seen nothin' yet. Come over and read some more."

Denver walked around the animal and chuckled. "My first impression is that if there's any more branding to be done on this horse you'll have to get another horse. All I can say now in regard to the specimen before me is that he's better than sixteen years old."

"Now, now," cut in Wilgus, "he ain't a day over twelve. He just looks a little tired, that's all."

"Beg to differ. They quit using the Lazy UT brand sixteen seasons ago. This horse has been places and seen things. In fact, he's practically an original passenger of the Ark."

The horse leered at Denver's coat buttons, nibbled on one in a spasmodic burst of energy, and sneezed. Ortez evidenced alarm.

"Y'honor, this horse ain't himself at all—"

"Was he ever?" interrupted Niland.

"—the crowd excites him. The air is bad. I got to get this horse outa here. Henry, lend a hand."

Niland rose. "Considering the fact that ownership is going to be difficult to determine, why not settle reasonably? Let Wilgus make an offer for the horse. Tuggs would accept rather than go through a long suit. If we could establish a fair price—"

"This has got nothing to do with assault and battery," repeated Langdell.

"The mills of the gods grind exceedingly small," said the judge. "If you're determined to get the assault and battery end of it over with I'll oblige. Wilgus is fined twenty-five dollars. Now let's see about this offer of sale. Wilgus wants the horse. Tuggs will sell. Niland has suggested a price."

"Including rope and halter?" asked Langdell.

"Certainly not," said Niland. "A rope and halter represents around six dollars. Are you buying hardware or horse? I offer the horse as is, without gear, delivered on the streets of Sundown."

"He might run away," objected Langdell.

The court frowned heavily on the attorney. "Mr. Langdell, don't let your wild fancy get the best of you. Did you ever hear of the horse running? Can you produce any living being who saw or thought he saw in the aforementioned horse any inkling of a desire to run away, either impulsively or after due deliberation? Just what evidence can you adduce to prove that this horse is even familiar with the act of running?"

Out of the crowd came a hollow assent. "True, brother."

"Well," considered Langdell, "we might go so far as to make an offer—if you agree to deliver the horse at the Wilgus ranch."

"Now, now," scoffed Niland. "It's eleven miles to that ranch. I refuse to embark on any such hazardous experiment. The horse is in delicate health."

"Gentlemen, get together," adjured the court. "I think you ought to make an attempt to strike an equitable balance."

Langdell whispered to Wilgus and came to a sudden decision. "Very well. Give us five dollars, Niland, and we'll take the horse off your hands."

Niland threw up his arms in disgust. "Have you forgotten the horse is valuable?"

"For what?" jeered Langdell.

"Your client says so."

Wilgus half rose. "Sentimentally, understand. I wouldn't go so fur as to say it was anything else."

Niland conferred with Tuggs. "Tuggs," he announced, "is ready to let Wilgus give him twenty dollars cash or another sound horse such as this one."

Langdell raised an unbelieving eyebrow; and even the court seemed rather dashed. Rumors of difficulty drifted into the hall of justice. The sheriff had piloted the horse as far as those difficult steps and now was audibly preparing for the worst. "Henry, don't stand down there thataway. If he starts a-goin' too fast he'll crush yuh."

"Let's take him down rump first," suggested Henry.

"No—no! He'll break his back."

"All right. Head first she is."

"That ain't so good either. He's apt to bust his neck."

This defeated Henry; he grew sarcastic. "Hell's afire, how many ways yuh think a horse can come downstairs? Listen, I'll get a pint of oats and hold it here. That'll move him."

"No—no! You want this horse to faint right here?"

"Aw," exploded Henry, "give him a push and see what happens!" The courtroom gathered that Henry was walking away, for the sheriffs plaintive remonstrance rose to heaven.

"Now, Henry, don't leave me like this. I'm holdin' him up, and I ain't able to let go!"

Wilgus rose from his seat. "You fellows are makin' a lot of monkey business out of this deal. That's my horse, and I mean to have him."

"You won't consider settlin' it?" queried Niland.

"I ain't a-goin' to pay a penny for what's already mine," stated Wilgus. "I'll allow he ain't pretty and couldn't drag a feather, but it's the principle of the thing. If I got to sue to get him, that's what I'm a-goin' to do."

"The province of the court is to see justice done," said the judge, eyeing Wilgus. "Arbitration having failed, we shall now see whose pound of flesh is whose. This is your legal right. Do you intend to bring action?"

Wilgus muttered to Langdell, and the lawyer spoke for him. "We do."

Ortez limped into the courtroom.

"I leaned him against Grover's stable and left him," was the sheriff's weary reply.

"How did you get him down the steps?"

"He fell down. And I hope I never lay eyes on him again."

The judge frowned. "It won't do, Sheriff. The court now orders you to take charge of the horse, pending determination of ownership. Take him to Grover's stable. See that he lacks for absolutely nothing in the way of food, attention, whatever medical services as may be deemed necessary. In short, watch over him with charity and compassion. Plaintiff Wilgus will post the necessary bond. Next case."

Niland came up to Denver with Tuggs ambling forlornly behind. "That means I ain't goin' to get use of my horse?" he wanted to know. "But I got to have a horse."

"Never mind," soothed Niland. "Strictly speaking, Tuggs, you never had a horse. You had an aged companion. Things will come out all right."

But Tuggs was miserably downcast. "What'm I goin' to do for a horse? Here's my rig in the middle of the street."

They had left the courtroom and were standing on the steps. Niland looked sympathetically at his client and lifted his eyes to Denver. Denver suddenly beckoned to a passing citizen. "Grover, step here a minute, will you?"

Grover, the owner of Sundown's stable, walked over. Denver explained the situation. "Everybody's got a horse but Tuggs, and you've got this for the time bein'. Just you haul out a good twelve-hundred-pound gelding and back it into Tuggs's rig. I'll have one of my men bring in another for you."

"Done," said Grover and walked away. Tuggs sputtered ineffectually.

"It's yours," cut in Denver, "and say no more about it."

The crowd eddied around them, and Tuggs was carried away. Fleabite Wilgus came out, muttering to himself. Steve Steers walked toward the hotel with a harried glance. Al Niland was chuckling. "Oh, this is going to be some case, Dave. It will go down in history. I ain't even started yet."

"What the devil are you driving at, Al?"

Al pointed at the departing Wilgus. "As an attorney I aim to get a square deal for Tuggs. As a human being I aim to give that miserable man the biggest kick in the pants he ever never got and should have had."

Cal Steele walked out with Langdell and beckoned the two. "Come along with us, will you? I want some witnesses to a deal."

The four proceeded past the Palace to the street's end, circled the last building, and climbed to Langdell's office. Langdell pulled down the shades against a beating sun, and reached for the inevitable bottle and glasses.

"I am of the belief," he told Niland, "this is going to be a drawn-out case."

"It is big with possibilities," Niland gravely assured him, "and fraught with consequences that may echo down the corridors of time."

"It is my suspicion you're going to leave no stone unturned," proceeded Langdell.

"If I find any stone unturned," Niland assured him, "I'll fire the stone turner."

"Justice must be done," stated Langdell, lifting his glass.

"We shall do justice and others," cheerfully acquiesced Niland, and they drank. Langdell settled in his chair, very slightly smiling.

"As attorney for my client, a most worthy man," he drawled dryly, "I shall check you at every turn, match you witness for witness, dollar for dollar."

"By George, that's fine!" exclaimed Niland. "You know damned well I don't like you, and you don't like me. But, reserving that state of mind for the present, I'll say you're sometimes halfways human."

Langdell flushed. "I suppose we must all have our fun before we die, Niland. As for disliking you, I seldom let anybody become so large in my mind as to spend time wasting emotion on him."

"Hah!" grunted Niland, sarcasm creeping into his words. "Now you're mounting the ivory pedestal again. You ought to let your humor out for air more often."

Denver sat back and studied these men through half-lidded eyes. Niland never minced his words and never failed to sting Fear Langdell with those short jabs of reckless, cynical truth. Langdell stared back at his opponent, mouth pressed grimly together, stiffly resentful. These were two absolutely opposite kinds of men. Denver understood the openhanded Niland very well; understood and sympathized with his friend's impulsive kindliness and sharp brain. But he had never yet penetrated that well- guarded mask Colonel Fear Langdell threw in front of his mind. There was, he felt, always some remote thought, some deep feeling moving secretively in Langdell's body.

"Well," broke in Cal Steele, "you fellows are out of court, so why fight? All I wanted you two for was to witness an agreement Langdell and I have drawn up. I'm selling him three hundred and fifty head of stock."

"Sign here," said Langdell, shoving the conveyance over the table and indicating the appropriate place. Niland dashed off his name hurriedly. Dave followed suit.

"Why don't you market your own beef?" he asked Steele.

"Langdell ships five times as much as I do," replied Steele, lazily accepting Langdell's check. "So I find it easier to take a profit this way than to do my own shipping. As a matter of fact, I'm going to go over to a feeder business one of these days. Buy, feed, and sell to a shipper like the Colonel here. Good business."

"Good for you, good for me," agreed Langdell. "Any time you want to dicker again let me know."

"I'll be around in maybe two months," said Cal Steele and got up. Leaving Langdell in his office, the three went back to the street. At Grogan's Steele tipped his head suggestively. "Let's damp down the dust, boys."

"Leave me out of it," drawled Denver. "I've got further business. And by the way of a parting benediction I will gently suggest this is no time to drink."

"Go with God," murmured Cal Steele indolently. "Any time's time to drink. Make up your mind about this girl proposition, Dave. I'm second best man, either way, understand. Come on, Al. You haven't got religion yet."

Niland followed Steele into the saloon, and they took their familiar corner at the bar, broaching a bottle. Niland studied his friend critically. "You," he announced, "are a fool. Why stand aside in favor of Dave? You know he hasn't got his mind set on Lola."

"How do I know it? How do you know it?" Steele's face settled to unusual soberness. "Tell me that."

"I know it because I know Dave," replied Niland emphatically. "Maybe he hasn't got his mind made up. Maybe he's thinkin' back to the time when he and Lola were a little younger, a little wilder and more headstrong. Maybe he's wondering. But I know what the answer will be. He'll swing to his own kind. Lola's one thing. Dave's another. At heart, Cal, you're more her style than Dave is."

Steele looked shrewdly at Niland. "That's not a bad guess. How much do you know about me, anyhow?"

Niland said quickly, "I never pry into a man's life. You know that. I take you for granted."

"Hm," muttered Steele. For quite an interval the two men stood still. Then Steele spoke, rather abruptly, rather sadly. "Nevertheless, a man can't keep himself hidden, even if he sealed his mouth. Every act exposes him. As far as Dave is concerned, I'd rather cut off my neck than hurt him. So I stay away. You heard me tell him I was a second-choice man, didn't you? Well, I am. As far as he's involved. I'll be that as long as I live—gladly."

He had touched some deep vein of thought. Downing his glass, he went on. "Some men have the power of drawing others. Not very many. Dave has. Look at us. I've got more education than he has. You've got a mind that cuts deeper and farther into truth than he has. But what of it? Dave is a better man than both of us put together. Why? Because he never varies from that burning light of conscience. He never strays from himself, never seems to falter. Time and again I've seen him come against some tough problem and decide one way or the other without flinching. He thinks he's a skeptic, as we are; that's one reason he likes us so well. But he could no more be the sort of purposeless fool that I am than fly to Mars. There's an enormous force driving him straight ahead."

"Which brings us to another item," grunted Niland, favoring the bottle. "He's bound to drive straight into opposition at the rate things are balling up in Yellow Hill. His neutral stand leaves him high and dry—right out in the daylight to be shot at."

Steele's fine face was tremendously sober and oddly set. "Listen, the most damnable visions keep coming to me, night after night. Faces staring at me from behind a bloody film. Sounds nutty, doesn't it? I have risen from a solid sleep with the horrible thing right in my eyes. I have heard shots, and men groaning. Sometimes the film thins out, and I think I see one of those faces and recognize it as my own. Sometimes I think I see Dave. Sometimes Lou Redmain. But when I reach out and am just on the point of identifying them, the bloody haze falls down."

"Cut that out," admonished Niland, "or I'll get the willies."

Steele's eyes were blackly brooding. "I've always been a fellow to take things as they came along. Never worrying much. Life's always been pretty easy, pretty full of sunshine. But for two months, night and day, I have felt as if I were drifting along toward darkness. I keep looking around me, and the sun's there, and the stars are there—the world's just the same as it always was. But still that ungodly black curtain keeps coming nearer and I'm heading for it. What's behind it—who knows?"

"Stop that," said Niland sharply. "You know what you need? You need to go over to the Palace, get one of the girls to sit beside you, and then drink hard."

"It's been tried before," said Steele and pulled himself out of his stark mood with visible effort. "The kind of forgetfulness one buys at the Palace only lasts so long. Well, I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth, and fair pastures were mine by heritage. But my star is a restless one and sometimes dark in the sky. The brightest spot in this little flicker of existence that is me comes from knowing I am a friend of Dave's. What's the matter with that bottle—leakin'?"

"The Palace is across the street and three doors down," said Niland.