Читать книгу The Hair-Trigger Kid - Max Brand - Страница 11

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"A good kind of a life," said the Kid, "if a fellow takes to it."

"Why," said the other, more enthusiastically than ever, "it's the best kind of a life that I know about."

"And Shay is your boss?"

"Yeah, Shay is my boss."

"What sort of a fellow d'you find Shay?"

"The best kind. He's been around in the world, and knows something that you don't learn out of books."

"Square?"

"He pays up."

"The right sort, eh?"

"The right sort for me. He's no time waster. But he keeps you busy and he pays you for your time."

The Kid nodded.

"You like him pretty well for a boss, then?"

"I like him? I'll tell a man that I like him. I've drawn down thousands from Shay, Kid."

"Well," said the Kid, "there's only one thing I ever had against him."

"What's that?"

"Once he pulled out of Los Angeles bound for Arizona—packing out with a pair of horses, a pair of mules and an old-timer by name of Pete Coleman along with him. They had a bad time of it, I suppose. Anyway, on the other side of the desert, there was no more than one mule and your friend Shay. Old Coleman, two horses, and a mule, had disappeared on the trip. Well, I want to know what happened to Coleman, and I want to hear it from Shay's own lip."

"Come in to Dry Creek with me and ask him. They probably met up with a stack of trouble on the way. There's nothing that Shay wouldn't do to get you with him, Kid. He knows a man, and a man's worth!"

"Does he?" said the Kid. "Well, I've already stopped off at Dry Creek, and Shay wasn't interested in seeing me. He left his house. In fact, he climbed out of a top-story window and turned himself into a cat to get to the ground."

The other stared fixedly. His eyes gradually turned from surprise to a hard understanding.

"Did you go gunning for Shay?" he asked suddenly.

"Gunning?" said the Kid. "I never go gunning for anybody. But I wanted to ask Shay that question. He had business outside the house, though, it appeared."

"You hate Shay?"

"Not a bit. I only want to ask him a question."

"Why didn't you stay in Dry Creek?"

"Would you like to go to sleep inside the den of a wild cat?"

The other nodded.

"Well," he said, "you've missed a fine chance, Kid. If I was you, I'd go back to Dry Creek and see Shay under a white flag and make friends. Nobody is gunna get on in this part of the world unless he's a friend of Shay's."

"There's only that question," said the Kid. "When you see him, you ask him, will you? I'd give a lot to find out."

"You think that Shay double-crossed him?"

"Double-crossed him?" said the Kid, gently. "Why, man, Coleman was sixty years old. Who would double-cross a man that old?"

The other watched his face cautiously, and seemed to perceive a tone of iron in that last remark.

"I dunno anything about it," he said shortly. "Was Coleman a great friend of yours?"

"Coleman? Oh, not particularly. I just barely knew him. He took me in when I was hungry, once, and again he showed me the way out when I was in a tight hole, and another time he saved my life when I was cornered by a gang. Outside of that, he didn't have any claim on me."

Dixon frowned, and then stood up.

"I guess I know what you mean," said he. "If I should find out about Coleman—I'll let you know."

"Thanks," said the Kid, showing his teeth as he smiled. "I take that kindly from you, Champ."

"I'll tell you one other thing, Kid," burst out Dixon. "If you want to wear your scalp long, don't stay in this country unless you've made it up with Shay."

"He has everything under his thumb, has he?"

"He has everything under his thumb, and that's a fact"

"I'm glad to know that," said the Kid, "and I hope that we'll be friendly. You tell him something from me, will you?"

"Of course I will, when I see him."

The Kid looked up at him with the same smile.

"Tell him that unless I hear from him soon I'm going to have to drop in on him in a hurry and open him up to learn the truth about Coleman."

"Open him up?" asked Dixon, starting.

"Yes," said the Kid. "If I can't hear it from his mouth, I might find it in his heart, or his liver. And if I fail—he'll make good dog food, anyway. That's all I'd like to have you tell him from me, old-timer."

Dixon, during the last part of this speech, had been backing away from the Kid, frowning. Now, without a word, he turned to his horses, saddled one, and was about to climb into the saddle, when he paused, fumbling at the saddle straps.

The Kid was watching closely, though from the corner of his eye, while he saddled the mare. Then, glancing in the direction in which his companion was looking, he saw from the top of a distant hill the flicker of a light, as though the sun were glittering upon the face of a moving glass. Suddenly he found that Dixon was staring at him closely, critically.

"Yes," said the Kid, still smiling, "it looks as though your friend Shay had the country by the throat. There he is, winking at you across all those miles, old-timer. Wink back, when you get a chance, and tell him that I'm waiting for my answer."

Dixon, without answering, flung himself on the back of his horse. He seemed about to ride straight off, but changing his mind at the last moment, he returned to the Kid and leaned a little from the saddle.

"I'll tell you something," said he, "and it don't cost you nothin' to hear it. You're gunna be marked down in a pretty short while. Get out of this neck of the woods. I ain't got nothin' agin' you. I like you fine. But—I tell you to start movin', Kid!"

The latter watched him carefully.

"I believe you, old son," said he. "I'd better get moving, before you have to start on my trail. Is that it?"

"Put it any way you want to. You think that you know a lot, Kid. You don't know nothin'. You give Shay the run today and think you're the top dog. Why, that don't mean nothin'. He don't fight because he's proud. He fights because he wants your blood. And he'd sooner use hired hands than his own. Kid, watch yourself. So long. I've said a pile too much, already!"

He jerked his horse around and made off at once along the trail toward Dry Creek, while the Kid looked after him with a certain combination of pity, contempt and kindness. Then he mounted and went in the opposite direction, riding slowly, with a thoughtful cant to his head.