Читать книгу Complete Novels - Ernest Haycox - Страница 82

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When Lola Monterey climbed the stairs and turned toward her room a slim man in a black hat stepped from the obscurity of the hall's end.

"I wanted to see you, Lola," said he quietly.

The girl stopped with a breath of surprise. "Lou—you come like a ghost."

He drew off his hat, smiling with pleasure. "A ghost out of the past—a not pleasant past?" The dark and triangular face of the man studied her with quick pride. She rested against the wall, eyes half shut, passive. "I had to see you," he went on.

She motioned to her door. "Go in, then. Five minutes, no more."

He shook his head. "I wouldn't do that. It's too late at night."

"You have not changed," she observed gently. "You still protect me."

"You've changed."

"For better or worse?"

"Better for you—worse for me. Once you were Peter Monterey's daughter in a knockdown shack, and I fed you rustled beef to keep that fire in your eyes. Now you are a fine lady and past my help. Maybe you have forgotten."

"Never! Why should I forget? I am not ashamed of my past, Lou. I am proud that this sand nourished me. There is only one thing I'm not proud of."

"What's that?" he asked, sharp and intent.

"For ever leaving. Tell me, is David serious with Eve Leverage?"

Redmain's expressive face darkened. "I wish to God I knew!"

Her luminous eyes widened on him. "So—it is that way with you?"

"It is," was his short answer. "I have wanted that girl since she was out of pigtails. She doesn't know it. Nobody knows it but you, chiquita. And you are keeping it to yourself."

"As you once kept my secrets," she promised him, "away back when I was fighting to be a fine and great lady. Ah, Lou, I am sorry for you. But he is not happy."

"Who, Dave? I suppose not. Neither am I, neither are you. Neither is anybody in this world who's got mind enough to see how crooked the whole game is and blood enough to fight back."

"You never have quarreled with him, Lou?" she asked, worry in her eyes.

"Never yet. I like the man as much as it is in me to like anybody, which is say in' little."

"I never want you to quarrel with him."

He shrugged his shoulders. "Who knows what's to come? Things are pretty badly tangled in Yellow Hill. He and I step around each other politely. How long that continues only God knows."

"You are bitter," she remarked. "What could happen that would make you two have trouble?"

But he laughed shortly and changed the subject. "I had to see you for a minute. One of the few things I look back on with considerable satisfaction, Lola, is that I was a friend of yours and never let you down. Reckon it'll be a long time until—"

"No. I am staying here. This is home for me from now on."

He said nothing for several moments, but his lips tightened as he watched the changing color of her eyes. "I reckon," he said finally, "we are all fools. But what of it? Well, I'll see you again, then. Meantime, don't believe too much you hear about me. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Lou."

He went slowly down the stairs to the street. Families and riding outfits were departing, leaving Sundown in the hands of the more reckless spirits; Grogan's was noisy, and the Palace piano, muted during the show, threw a rakish tune into the semidarkness. The night marshal passed by, cast a quick glance at Redmain, and spoke courteously. "Good-evenin' to you, Redmain."

Redmain nodded, the curve of his Up increasingly sardonic. He reached his horse, swung to the saddle, and went racking down Prairie Street. As the lights of town winked out one by one behind him he lifted his head and laughed bitterly. "By God, life's funny enough to make a man cry. If she stays she'll find out what I've turned into—she'll find out that from a plain harum-scarum fellow I've got to be a crook, a rustler, a leader of outlaws—a renegade with enough reputation to make the night marshal act polite! I'd rather cut off my arm than to have her know it—but she will. Eve Leverage already knows it. Everybody I want to be friends with knows it. So now there ain't a damned soul in the world I can mix with as an ordinary, decent human bein'!"

He swept rapidly along the road, passing slower rigs that were but shapeless outlines in the dark. Drowsy calls were thrown at him but he kept still, both from pride and purpose; for with the coming night he resumed the traits of his trade—secrecy, swiftness, and vigilance. The knowledge he shifted roles so abruptly added to the kindling fire of his temper.

"Nobody to blame but myself. I chose this business, and I reckon I've prospered. Why have regrets? Why weaken now and fall away from the big prizes? I despise a quitter; I hate a man that will not live up to his talents whether crooked or honest. And if there's no longer a soul in Yellow Hill I can trust or go to for help—then why not throw overboard every damned last scruple I've got and turn wolf? Why not?"

Unconsciously he had shouted that question into the night, and the muffled echo came down the dripping side of Shoshone Dome like the answer of fate. It stiffened him in the saddle as he went racing onward; it roused his gambler's superstitions. These black shadows, within which he spent so much of his life, had replied. It was his dark destiny speaking, it was one clear call in a career of uncertainty. Flashes of realization raced through his agile mind; he was successful and powerful because he had veered from set ways of honesty. He had cut through, he had gone ahead, each step more daring and ruthless and confident. So there was left him only one course—to carry this cold and swift relentlessness of purpose to its ultimate conclusion. Trust no one, bend to no one, never let his heart hold kindness, never let his mind be bound by a promise.

He skimmed through the fog-damp countryside, ran by the toe of Starlight and on into the southern reaches. At a point where the stage road hit a direct and descending line into the open prairie he slackened speed and turned up a lesser trail, winding between the funereal gloom of overshadowing pines. A creek dashed down grade, and the pitch of the trail sharpened. Light flashed covertly at him from a summit cabin; somebody moved in front and challenged softly:

"Who's that?"

"Dann here yet?"

"Waitin' for yuh."

He dismounted, led his horse slightly to one side of the cabin, and went back, entering the place with a swift and sidewise motion that exposed him very briefly to the outer world. Two men sat beside a stove, and a third, Stinger Dann, lolled on the adjacent bunk, holding his swollen head between his hands.

"Next time," said Redmain, "you'll know better."

Dann rose. "Next time I'll kill him!"

"Not while you're in my outfit, Dann. You'll behave. You'll take my orders, and you'll never lift a finger unless I say so."

"Then," cried Dann, "I'll pull out of yore damned outfit!"

Redmain's eyes burned into Dann while the trembling moments passed by. Dann's bulk overshadowed him, and Dann's evilly stamped features made the slim chief seem juvenile by comparison. Yet Lou Redmain's will swelled through that cramped cabin room like sun's heat. "You will never leave my outfit, Dann. You threw in with me voluntarily. I made you a partner in this business. You know my secrets. There will never be any getting away for you. You stick."

Dann squared himself defensively. The arrogant, bullying strength in him crumbled before Redmain's superior power. "What yuh tryin' to tell me? I'm a free man! I'm not no damned peon, Lou! I come and I go!"

"Only when I tell you," droned Redmain, and the narrow face moved with anger. "I say you stick or you take the consequences. Make up your mind here and now. I've got a good medicine for herd jumpers like you. Well, what is it to be?"

"I ain't m'self," muttered Dann. "I feel bad, I feel awful. Don't haze me around like that. Can't a man blow off steam once in a while?"

Redmain laughed contemptuously. "I'm glad we have settled it. And I want you to understand this once and for all—never cross Dave Denver, never make a play for him unless I give you orders on the subject. What made you think your draw was as fast as his, anyhow? Why, you fool, he can beat any man's bullet in this country except mine. You'd be dead now if Cal Steele hadn't stopped your play. And what were you doing in Sundown tonight? I didn't tell you to be there."

"Just rode over from the Wells to have a little fun," mumbled Dann, not meeting Red-main's glance.

"You lie," retorted the chief coolly. "You had some nutty idea in your head. Trying to be tough on your own account. If you didn't have my name standing behind you, Dann, somebody would have put a bullet in that clumsy body of yours long ago. I'll tolerate no more foolishness!"

Dann took the lashing in silence; the other two stared at the floor. Redmain turned to one of them impatiently. "The job done, Gus?"

"Yeah," said Gus. "We took twenty cows and calves, run 'em acrost the bridge and stopped near the road. Now what?"

Redmain considered it briefly. "As soon as the travel from Sundown slacks off, put the stuff over the road in a hurry and drive into Tom's Hole. Dann, you go along with the bunch and camp with them. Don't come back to the Wells until I send for you. Tomorrow I want the calves branded and the cows blotted. Take your time and do a good job."

"What brand yuh goin' to use this time?"

"Same we've been using lately." Redmain rolled a cigarette, lips compressing. A flare of slight excitement moved across his eyes. "So far, I have played a fifty-fifty game. Half crooked and half honest. It's no good. I'm out for blood. You take one of those cows and switch the brand to Denver's D Slash. Make a bunglin' amateur job of it that anybody could see. Tomorrow night drive it into Denver's range and leave it."

"Plantin' somethin' on him, huh?" was Dann's exclamation.

Voices rose outside the cabin. Redmain warned the others. "Keep your mouths shut about this." Then the door opened, and another man entered, smiling sleepily.

It was Cal Steele. "You're late," said Redmain.

"What of it?" drawled Steele. "I might have been still later. I might not have come at all."

"In our business we've got to move fast," grunted Redmain.

"So you ascribe your success in life to the fact you are always punctual," jeered Steele.

"Ten minutes," Redmain reminded him grimly, "may make the difference of our bein' alive or hung. Don't forget that."

"Is it so important to be alive?" countered Steele wearily. He pointed his finger at Dann and spoke with an angry accent. "As for you, my friend, you nearly got your cursed head beat off, and I wish Dave had finished the job. You'll have to get up earlier to make a sucker out of that boy. What is more, if you had plugged him I would have plugged you. I've said before I won't stand for this crowd monkeyin' with Dave Denver. He is my best friend. Though," and Steele turned morosely unpleasant, "he wouldn't be if he knew what a double-faced misfit I really am."

"So you find friendship begins to sour?" said Redmain.

"A man such as myself deserves no friends," Steele muttered.

"Neither deserves them nor has them," replied Redmain. "I made the same discovery tonight, Cal. So what does that leave us? Why, kick all the fine sentiment overboard and be what we were meant to be."

Steele frowned. "The logical outcome of that belief is published notoriety and sooner or later a posse on our heels. And a cottonwood tree for a springboard."

"They can't beat me. They've got nothing definite on me. Nor on you."

"Nothing is secret forever," murmured Steele. "Public notoriety will do for you or Dann, but I've got enough left in me to need decent friends. Oh, well—what is the situation now?"

"We took some beef tonight. It'll be changed over to your brand tomorrow and be kept hidden until the new burns are healed. Then we'll drive it to your range. Meanwhile I've got about thirty head ready for you now. They've gone through the aging process for two months. Tomorrow night I'll have them thrown into your upper range. Better see to it all your riders are elsewhere."

"Be careful about that brand blotting," warned Steele. "I want no slips."

"Gus is an expert," said Redmain. "You couldn't tell the difference with a razor and a microscope. You're safe. Better ship early this year. I need money."

"Whose stuff did you take tonight?"

"Fee's," returned Redmain. "Our last operation over beyond Sky Peak. We're going to work this side durin' the year. That Englishman don't know anything. I'm going to milk him dry."

"Dirty business," grunted Steele. "I like the fellow."

"Something you ought to've thought of a long time ago," retorted Redmain. "No chance to change now. You've got your hands soiled."

"I think I know that better than you do," said Steele and rose to leave. "You've heard about the Association going in for vigilantes with Leverage at the head of 'em?"

Redmain laughed. "He couldn't catch a cold. I'll run him ragged. The poor devil doesn't know—" Then he caught himself. The two men exchanged significant glances. Steele said:

"You're a careful cuss, and you've got brains. Don't overplay your hand."

Redmain closed one fist and spoke with a suppressed exultance. "I am going the limit, Steele!"

"Be careful. And leave Denver strictly alone. I'll string along with you up to that point. Then I draw out. I won't be a party to any doublecross of Dave." Steele went out. Redmain stared at the other men for a long interval.

"Get going, all of you. And keep your mouths shut."

They departed, leaving him alone by the stove, wrapped in his dark thoughts. One by one he explored the alleys of opportunity before him; man by man he considered his outfit, the weak and the strong, the faithful and the treacherous. And from there he began to calculate the power of those ranged against him, his own individual strength set beside that of other individuals and his own outfit matched with the vigilantes. Never before had he let his mind run free as tonight, and never before had he caught so clear a view of the mastery that might be his if he were only bold enough to strike quickly and hard. It flushed him, it fed the latent ambition within him. Out of all this emerged his conclusions. "Denver I shall some day have to meet. Steele will never approve of what I aim to do. He must go down. Soon."