JIM-TWIN AND JACK-TWIN
One day, two days passed, and still Jack-twin Allen made no move. He
looked over the jail and had certain repairs made on it. He walked
about the town, and, while he did not stroll down the center of the
street, neither did he sneak about the alleys. He had a certain cold
nerve that was far superior to reckless courage. He was there to catch
and punish the gold robbers, and he had no intention of making a move
until he was thoroughly familiar with his surroundings and the
situation in general. He would stalk into various saloons, look the
people over, and then draw one man aside and question him. His
questions were direct and to the point, and usually the men would
answer them freely, for they felt that what they said would go no
farther. If a man lied, Allen would fix him with those hard,
penetrating eyes of his and bluntly tell the man he lied. Yet,
strangely enough, there were none who made an overt move to resent his
accusations even in that town which was overrun by gunmen.
There were many who wondered why Jack Allen delayed his clean-up. The
miners became impatient, but Jack knew the gang which was stealing the
quartz would be getting nervous, and there is nothing so trying to the
nerves as waiting.
On the third day he borrowed a horse from the livery stable and started
to visit each mine in the neighborhood. Each one told him the same
tale. The mine was robbed, the robbers' trail went up the gulch and was
finally lost in the wooded hills. Always pack horses had been used to
haul the gold away.
The Blue Sky Mine was close to the American Beauty. When Jack Allen
dismounted before the shack used as an office, Baldy Kane, the owner,
stepped through the door and greeted him.
He was like a death's-head, with his expressionless eyes, his hairless
face and head and tightly stretched, sallow skin. When he spoke, his
lips scarcely moved. Jack Allen knew the man had no more fear in him
than a stone. There would be no taking such a man alive.
"Yeh, I've got a hard bunch workin' for me, but I figgered that until
this quartz gang is busted up I might as well have fighters as well as
workers," he said softly in reply to a question from Allen.
The Wyoming sheriff nodded; this sounded like sense to him.
"I hear yuh struck it rich?" he asked, after a pause, in which each man
frankly studied the other.
"One of the old-timers went broke sinkin' my shaft," Baldy explained.
"His vein petered out, an' the fool killed himself. A greaser who
worked for him tipped me off that by putting in a side cut I could
strike a rich vein. I bought the place for taxes an' did what the
greaser tol' me. An' I've struck it rich--plenty rich! I'm sorta hopin'
that what that old fool Pop Howes believes about the El Dorado mother
lode startin' again on this side of the gulch is true, 'cause, if it
does, I've got it an' not him."
"How many men yuh got workin' for yuh?"
"Eight--an' they're all gun slingers."
Jack Allen was silent for a moment. Was this a threat, or a mere
statement of fact? His eyes caught and held Baldy's.
"How did that ol'-timer kill himself?"
"Threw himself down the shaft," said the mine owner quickly.
Allen thought to himself.
"He's sure enough a cool customer, an' he'd do anything--cut a man's
throat without a wink. Mebbe he threw that old-timer down the shaft,
himself. But if the Blue Sky is as rich as he says it is, there ain't
no use tryin' to hitch him up with them quartz robbers. A man worth a
million doesn't go about stealin' thousands."
It was late noon when Jack Allen turned up the path that led to the
American Beauty Mine. Jim Allen, who was sitting on a bench on the
shady side of the house, saw him coming and arose to his feet with the
idea of vanishing, but on second thought he decided to remain and speak
to his brother. Pop Howes was over visiting Hard-rock Hogan, and Mrs.
Howes was asleep upstairs, so there would be no one to report that the
sheriff had talked to the outlaw. But Jim was mistaken in this, for
Mrs. Howes peered through the window and saw the meeting between the
two brothers.
"Hello, Jack," Jim said hesitatingly.
"Hello, yuh darned ol' hoss thief," Jack responded with a grin.
"Yuh ain't changed none sense I see yuh last up in Wyoming."
"You neither--yuh don't look a day over twenty."
There was a heavy silence. Both rolled and lit cigarettes. The woman
watched through the window, and her heart ached at their attempt to
appear casual and indifferent. She knew that here were two men, twin
brothers, who had slept together, fought side by side in a feud that
had rocked the whole West, until at last they were the only ones left.
They had no other kin; all had died in the feud. Yet the two had been
separated by an impassable gulf since that day when Jim Allen had shot
and killed a United States army captain. That the killing had been
deserved and had prevented an Indian uprising made no difference. Jack
was one who believed in the letter of the law.
"Yuh remember when we was kids an' pa used to hide our dinner an' make
us track it or go hungry?" Jim asked.
"Yeh. Yuh was always better'n me. Guess yuh are still," Jack answered
and stared down the gulch. He had less ability to hide his feelings
than his twin; Jim had been forced to wear a mask so long it had become
second nature to him.
Jim Allen's freckled face split in a wide grin.
"Yuh try livin' in the desert where yuh got to track lizards or go
hungry an' yuh'll soon learn trackin'!"
Suddenly the restraint between the two dropped away. They were once
more boys, brothers. Jim pointed at Jack's high heels and then threw
back his head and laughed aloud.
"The only lollygaholopus an' wampus on stilts out of a museum!
Ha-ha-ha!"
"Yuh darn little hoss thief!" Jack retorted. "Yuh still got Honey Boy,
the hoss yuh stole from me? Lissen, you! Yuh want to stop laughin' or
some day the top of your head will fall off."
The two stood there and thoroughly abused each other, mixing their
abuse with fighting words. But in each case the fighting words were
terms of endearment.
But again the twins grew silent. Jack was thinking of the day after
to-morrow when he intended to post his list of undesirables. Jim headed
the list.
"Listen, Jack," the little outlaw said earnestly. "I'm thinkin' that
quartz gang what robbed Pop last week sure dropped that Mex kid,
thinkin' it was Pop. They tried to down him deliberate. I figger some
gent knows Pop is due to strike it rich and figgered on buyin' the
American Beauty cheap from the widow. An' don't forget that gent is
runnin' with the quartz gang!"
He lowered his voice and explained his theory, but after he had
finished, Jack shook his head.
"I don't blame yuh, but your life has made yuh too darn suspicious. Yuh
suspect everybody."
"Mebbe so, but yuh got to set a thief to ketch a thief!" There was a
touch of bitterness in Jim's voice.
It was a long while before he spoke again.
"I'm tellin' yuh, Jack, there is somethin' darned funny about how an'
why them gents sent for yuh. They aim to double cross yuh, or somebody
else, or mebbe both!" Jim warned.
"Why?" Jack smiled unbelievingly.
"Mebbe they got yuh down here to do somethin' they're scared to do,"
Jim suggested.
"What?"
"I dunno, but suppose some gents is plumb scared of their partner.
Suppose this here Baldy Kane was a member of their gang, an' they was
scared of him. He's hell on wheels, that bald-headed ol' jasper. They
would figger out you would learn somethin', then go try for Baldy. He
ain't a gent what would ever give up, so you'd sure cash him, an' he'd
prob'ly cash you. They'd have got rid of him, an' anythin' you'd learnt
wouldn't matter, 'cause you'd be dead!"
Later Jim-twin Allen stood there and watched his brother ride away. And
the woman watching him saw Jim's face grow old, become covered with a
thousand wrinkles. It was lifeless, nearly, dead like the desert that
was his home. The woman turned away, ashamed that she had witnessed the
baring of a man's soul.
Suddenly the outlaw's face grew young again, and he grinned.
"All right, Jack. Whether yuh like it or not, the Wolf is goin' to horn
in on your play an' sorta prove to yuh that yuh don't know nothin'
a-tall!"