SOME SHOOTING
When the Texan left Cass Grimshaw he headed due north. He rode
leisurely--light-heartedly. The knowledge that Alice was safe at
Cinnabar Joe's left his mind free to follow its own bent, and its bent
carried it back to the little cabin on Red Sand, and the girl with the
blue-black eyes. Most men would have concentrated upon the grim work in
hand--but not so the Texan. He was going to kill Purdy because Purdy
needed killing. By his repeated acts Purdy had forfeited his right to
live among men. He was a menace--a power for harm whose liberty
endangered the lives and happiness of others. His course in hunting down
and killing this enemy of society needed no elaboration nor
justification. It was a thing to be done in the course of the day's
work. The fact that Purdy knew the ground, and he did not, and that the
numerical odds were four to one against him, bothered him not at all. If
others of the same ilk had seen fit to throw in with Purdy they must
abide the consequences.
So his thoughts were of the girl, and his lips broke into a smile--not
the twisted smile that had become almost habitual with him, but a
boyish smile that caused a fanlike arrangement of little wrinkles to
radiate from the corners of his eyes, and the eyes themselves to twinkle
with mirth. As men of the open are prone to do, he voiced his thoughts
as they came: "She sure give me to onderstand last night that runnin'
off with other men's wives is an amusement that wouldn't never meet her
popular approval. It's, what do the French call it--a _faux pas_ that's
not only frowned on, but actually scowled at, an' made the excuse for
numerous an' sundry barbed shafts of sarcasm an' caustic observations of
a more or less personal application, all of which is supposed to make a
man feel like he'd not only et the canary, but a whole damn buzzard--an'
wish he hadn't lived to survive doin' it." The man glanced up at the
sun. "Time I was gettin' outside of this lunch she packed up for
me--chances are I won't want to stop an' eat it after awhile."
Dismounting, he seated himself with his back against a rock and unrolled
the sandwiches. "She made 'em," he observed to Blue, "regular light
bread, an' good thick ham between." He devoured the sandwich slowly, and
reached for another. "Cass said to _make_ her have me," he smiled; "hell
of a lot he knows about women, but--the dope's right, at that. Boy,
those eyes! An' that hair, an'--an', oh, the whole _woman_ of her! If a
man had a girl like that to go home to--an' she loved him--an' he knew
she was thinkin' about him--an' pullin' for him to--to make good! There
wouldn't be nothin' to it--he'd just naturally have to make good. Janet
McWhorter--Janet Benton--Mrs. Tex Benton--Mrs. Horatio Benton--hell! I
hope she don't go in for the Horatio part. It's almost as bad as
Winthrop Adams Endicott! Tex is better--if she ever thinks to inquire
about my other name I'll tell her it's Mike, or else I'll go plumb to
the other extreme an' call it Percy or Reginald. I ain't got her
yet--but believe me! She's goin' to have a war on her hands till I do
get her!
"I'll just admit that she'll marry me--what then? It's time I was kind
of takin' inventory. Here's what she gets: One cow-hand an'
outfit--includin' one extra saddle horse, a bed-roll, an' a war-bag full
of odds an' ends of raiment; some dirty, an' some clean; some tore, an'
some in a fair state of preservation. Eight hundred an' forty dollars in
cash--minus what it'll take to square me in Timber City.
An'--an'--that's all! She ain't goin' to derive no hell of a material
advantage from the union, that's sure. But, if I've still got my job it
ain't so bad to start off with. Other assets, what we used to call
incorporeal hereditaments back in law school--fair workin' knowledge of
the cattle an' horse business. Health--good. Disposition--um-m-m, kind,
to murderous. Habits--bad, to worse. Let's see: smokin'--that's all
right: chewin'--prob'ly be allowable if indulged in out doors only.
Swearin'--prob'ly won't be an issue till the kids get old enough to
listen. Gamblin'--prob'ly be limited to poker--friendly games an'
pifflin' limit. Drinkin'--let's see, the only year since I can remember
I don't drink nothin' I quit better than eight hundred dollars to the
good--first time I ever had eight hundred dollars all at once in my
life. What happens? Get to drinkin' for a half a day, an' Bing! Off
comes a hundred, maybe two hundred to pay up for the hell I raised! Does
it pay? Not for a married man! Not for me! An' besides, what was it she
said when I turned down the drink she offered me? She said, 'I'm glad--I
hate the stuff.'" He paused, smiling reminiscently, "drinkin's lots of
fun--but, a man's got to pay for his fun--more ways than one, he's got
to pay. If it'll make her happy to not drink, an' onhappy to drink--the
way I look at it, it's a damned mean man that would pay for his own
belly-wash with his wife's happiness! That about concludes the takin'
stock, then: Drinkin'--once! Drinkin'--twice! Drinkin'--three times--an'
_out_! I'm a non-drinker, a teetotaller, a pop-lapper, an' a grape-juice
swizzler! At that, if I'd known that last drink I had back there in
Timber City was goin' to be the very last doggone drink I was ever goin'
to get, I'd kind of strung it along a little--sort of sipped it slow an'
solemn as become an obsequy. Instead of which, I tossed it off
light-hearted, casual, even what you might call flippant--an' it's the
last drink I was ever goin' to have!"
He rose, brushed a stray crumb or two from his shirt, and mounted: "Come
on, Blue, let's get this stuff over with, an' wash our hands, an' hit
for Red Sand. Cass says Cinnabar Joe's place ain't only about four miles
above McWhorter's."
Thirty minutes later the Texan slowed his horse to a walk.
Rock-fragments appeared, dotting the surface of ridges and coulees.
Small at first, these fragments increased in size and number as the man
pushed northward. He knew from Cass Grimshaw's description that he was
approaching the rendezvous of Purdy and his gang. Far ahead he could see
the upstanding walls of rock that marked the entrance to the gorge or
crater which marked the spot where some titanic explosion of nature had
shattered a mountain--shattered it, and scattered its fragments over the
surrounding plain. But the Texan was not thinking of the shattered
mountain, nor of the girl on Red Sand. He hitched his belt, glanced at
the revolver in its holster, and slipping his hand beneath his shirt,
made sure that Long Bill's six-gun lay ready to his hand. He proceeded
slowly, pausing at frequent intervals to scan the rock-dotted plain. The
mouth of the gorge showed distinctly, now. He pulled up his horse and
studied the ground. He decided to dismount and proceed on foot--to work
his way from rock-fragment to rock-fragment. A slight sound caused him
to glance swiftly to the left. Not fifty feet away the malevolent face
of Purdy stared at him above the barrels of two six-guns. Directly
before him he saw another man, and to the right two more. And every man
had him covered. His eyes returned to Purdy, and his lips twisted into
their cynical grin. "Well--why in hell don't you shoot?"
"Want to git it over with in a hurry, do you?" sneered the outlaw. "Well
I don't! I'm goin' to git you all right, but I'm goin' to take my time
to it. When you skipped out a year back fer fear of what I'd do to you,
you'd ought to stayed away."
The Texan laughed: "Just as big a damned fool as ever, Purdy. Just as
big a four-flusher, too. You better shoot while you've got the chance.
'Cause if you don't I'll kill you, sure as hell."
Purdy sneered: "Gittin' in yer bluff right up to the last, eh? Thought
you could sneak up an' git me when I wasn't lookin', eh? Thought--" The
sentence was never finished. The Texan's expression suddenly changed.
His eyes fixed wildly upon a point directly behind Purdy and he cried
out in sudden alarm:
"Don't kill him, Cass! He's mine!"
Like a flash, Purdy whirled, and like a flash the Texan was out of his
saddle and behind a rock. And as Jennie had predicted, he hit the ground
a-shootin'. His own horse had shielded him from the others whose
attention had been momentarily diverted to their leader. Instantly Purdy
discovered the ruse--but too late. As he whirled again to face the
Texan, the latter's gun roared, and one of Purdy's guns crashed against
a rock-fragment, as its owner, his wrist shattered, dived behind his
rock with a scream of mingled rage and pain. Three times more the Texan
shot, beneath the belly of his horse, and the two outlaws to the right
pitched forward in crumpled heaps and lay motionless. Frenzied by the
noise, the big blue roan plunged blindly forward. The man in front made
a frantic effort to get out of his way, failed, and the next moment,
crashed backward against a rock-fragment from which he ricocheted from
sight while the great blue roan galloped on, reins flying, and stirrups
wildly lashing his sides.
"That leaves just the two of us, Purdy," drawled the Texan from the
shelter of his rock, as he reloaded his gun.
A vicious snarl from the hiding place of the outlaw was the only answer.
"I told you you was a fool not to shoot while you had the chance. I'm
goin' to get you, now. But, seein' that you wasn't in no hurry about it,
I won't be neither. There's quite a few things I want you to
hear--things you ought to know for the good of your soul."
"You don't dast to git me!" came exultingly, from behind Purdy's rock,
"if you do, what'll become of _her_--the pilgrim's woman? She's right
now layin' tied an' gagged in a mud crack where you nor no one else
won't never find her. What'll become of her, if you git me?"
The Texan grinned to himself, and after a moment of silence, called
hesitatingly: "Say, Purdy, you wouldn't do that! Wouldn't let a woman
die like that without tellin' where she is."
"The hell I won't!"
"Come on, Purdy, tell me where she is? You might as well. If I get you,
what's the use of leavin' her there to die? An', if you get me, why
you'll have her anyway."
A sneering laugh answered him: "You don't dast to git me--an' leave her
where she's at!"
The Texan's voice hardened: "Oh, yes I do, Purdy. 'Cause I know, an' you
know, that she's safe an' sound at Cinnabar Joe's--an' she'll stay there
till Cinnabar can get word to her husband."
A volley of oaths greeted the statement: "Cinnabar don't dast to open
his yap! He'll go up fer the rest of his life if he does. I'll fix him!"
"You won't fix no one, Purdy. You're goin' to hell from here. An'
whatever you've got on Cinnabar you'll take with you. When I told you to
tell me where the girl was I was just givin' you a chance to do one
decent thing before you cashed in--but you couldn't do it, Purdy. There
ain't a decent thing in you to do. Why, even Long Bill Kearney was a man
fer about a second before he died."
"What do you mean--Long Bill--died?"
"Ask him," answered the Texan grimly, "you an' him will be close
neighbours--wherever you're goin'." Inadvertently the Texan leaned a
little to one side, as he shifted his position. There was a quick
report, and a bullet tore through a loose fold of his shirt sleeve.
"Pretty fair shootin', Purdy," he drawled, "little bit wide--you'd have
nicked me if you'd held in against the rock."
So intently did each man watch the other that neither noted the four men
who approached stealthily from rock to rock and finally crouched behind
an irregular buttress of rock only a short pistol shot away. Their
vantage point did not permit any view of the man who had been knocked
down by the galloping horse nor of the contestants themselves, but the
exchange of shots could be followed with ease and accuracy.
Cass Grimshaw nudged Endicott and pointed to the bodies of the outlaws:
"He got two," he whispered, with grim approval. "An' he got 'em right
out in the open. They must have seen him comin' an' laid for him before
he got to their hang-out."
"Hey, Tex," called Purdy after a long interval, "we ain't goin' to git
one another peckin' away like this behind these rocks."
"No--_we_ ain't goin' to git _one another_--but _I'm_ goin' to get
_you_--like that!" He fired as he spoke and his bullet chipped the rock
and tore through Purdy's hat brim. "Missed, By Grab! But, that pays up
for puttin' a hole in my shirt. You was a fool for fallin' for that old
gag I put over on you!"
"An' I wouldn't of fell fer it neither, if it hadn't of be'n fer
luck--you outlucked me--if you'd of said anyone else except Cass, I
wouldn't of fell fer it."
"That wasn't luck, Purdy--that was brains. If I figured on murderin' a
man tonight--an' he knew it--do you suppose I wouldn't jump quick if I
thought he was sneakin' up behind me with a gun? You bet I would!"
"Murderin'!" Purdy's voice sounded shrill with a quavering note of fear.
"What--what do you mean--murderin'?"
"Why, I run across Cass awhile back. I told him I was huntin' you an' he
said I'd find you an' three more over here. Said you an' them had
planned to bump him an' Bill Harlow off tonight, an' you was busy
arrangin' the details. He wanted to come along--him an' Bill--but I told
him they wasn't no use--if they was only you an' three more like you, I
could handle you myself. Him an' Bill are goin' to ride over after
awhile an' see if I need any help--but I don't do I, Purdy?"
The Texan's words were drowned in a perfect tirade of curses. Purdy's
voice was shrill with fear. "I've be'n double-crossed! It's a lie!
Everyone's agin me! I ain't never had no show!" The voice trailed off in
a whine. A few moments of silence followed, and then above the edge of
Purdy's rock appeared a white handkerchief tied to the end of a
gun-barrel. Taking careful aim, the Texan fired. The white flag
disappeared and the gun struck the rocks with a ring of steel.
"You shot at a white flag!" screamed Purdy.
"You're damn right I did! An' I'll shoot at the low-lived pup that tried
to hide behind it too. My God, Purdy! No head--no guts! The only things
about you that's a man is your pants, an' shirt, an' hat--an' I spoilt
the hat!"
"Listen, Tex, listen!" the man's voice was frantic with appeal. "Let's
make medicine. You c'n have the pilgrim's woman--I don't want her--I
only wanted the reward. I was only kiddin' about bumpin' you off! Honest
I was! Listen! Let me go, Tex! Let me git away! Cass has got me
framed-up! I aimed to quit him an' turn straight! Listen--they's a girl,
Tex. Over on Red Sand--I give her my word I'd quit the horse game an'
start an outfit. Listen--I----"
"Who is she?" the voice of the Texan cut in like chilled steel.
"McWhorter's girl----"
"You're a damned liar!"
"D'you know her?" the words came haltingly.
"Some," answered the Texan, drily, "she an' I are goin' to be married
tomorrow." The words had been uttered with the deliberate intent of
taunting Purdy, but even the Texan was not prepared for the
manifestation of insane rage that followed.
"You lie! Damn you! Damn you! You've always beat me! Yer beatin' me now!
You son of a--, take that!" With the words he leaped from behind his
rock and emptied his gun, the bullets thudding harmlessly against the
Texan's barrier, and instantly he was behind his rock again.
Cass Grimshaw grinned at the others. "He's baitin' him--prob'ly be'n
baitin' him fer an hour till Purdy's gone plumb mad."
"De Injun she would stake um out an' build de leetle fire on hees belly.
But A'm t'ink dat hurt worse lak Tex do it."
Endicott gazed in white-lipped fascination upon the scene. "Let's make
him surrender and turn him over to the authorities," he whispered.
Grimshaw shook his head: "No--not him. If you knew him like I do, you
wouldn't say that. By God, I turned one man over to the authorities--an'
they give him a year! An' when he got out I give him what he had comin'.
Think, man what he'd of done to your wife----"
The sentence was cut short by the sound of galloping hoofs. All four
craned their necks for sight of the rider. Grimshaw and Bill Harlow drew
their guns, expecting to see the fourth man of Purdy's gang come rushing
to the aid of his leader. But not until the rider was within a hundred
feet of the two combatants did they catch sight of her. At the same
instant they saw the Texan, hat in hand, frantically wave her back.
Janet McWhorter saw him, too, and pulled the bay mare to her haunches at
the same instant a shot rang out and Purdy's bullet ripped the Texan's
hat from his hand. Almost before her horse came to a stop, the girl's
gun was in her hand and she sat--tense--expectant.
With glittering eyes fixed upon the girl, Purdy laughed a wild shrill
laugh, that echoed among the rocks like a sound from hell. The words of
the Texan burned like words of living fire. "_Goin' to be married
tomorrow!_" Deliberately he raised his gun and fired--just at the
instant the bay mare threw up her head with a nervous jerk to rid her
mouth of the feel of the cruel spade bit. The next second she reared
high and crashed to the ground carrying her rider with her. With a loud
cry the Texan sprang to his feet and started for the girl, and at the
same moment the horse-thief that the big blue roan had knocked senseless
among the rocks rose to his feet and levelling his gun at the running
man, fired. At the sound of the report the Texan staggered, turned
half-way round and fell sprawling among the rocks. Purdy leaped to his
feet and, gun in hand, started for the prostrate Texan. The rock-ribbed
valley became a roar of noise. Janet, one leg pinned in the stirrup,
fired across the body of her horse. Fired swiftly and accurately. The
running Purdy staggered this way and that, drew himself stiffly erect,
threw his hands high above his head and spun around like a top, and as
the sound of the girl's last shot died, pitched forward and lay very
still.
From the rock buttress to the left, Janet saw men running toward her.
She could not tell whether they were friends or foes--it mattered
not--her gun was empty. At thought of her gun, she gave vent to a
pitiful little cry and covered her face with her hands. Then the men
were at her side pulling at the body of her horse. Her leg was freed and
someone stood her upon her feet. She lowered her hands and stared into
the bearded face of Cass Grimshaw!
"Good shootin', sis!" he patted her shoulder gently, "why, what's the
matter? D'ye think you missed him--look!" he pointed to the body of
Purdy.
"Oh--oh!" moaned the girl and covered her eyes again. "I've--I've
_killed_ a man!"
Grimshaw looked puzzled: "No, sis--you ain't killed no _man_! Not by no
stretch of imagination he ain't no man!"
"But--he's a human being--and--I killed him!"
As the horse-thief stood looking down upon her heaving shoulders the
puzzled look in his eyes gave place to a decided twinkle, which an
instant later changed to a look of mild reproach: "Say, sis, who do you
think you be? Claimin' _you_ killed Purdy! Why, there ain't no more
chance you killed him, than there is that I didn't." He extended his
hand in which an automatic pistol of large calibre lay flat in the palm.
"This here gun shoots jest twict as swift as yours. Agin your eight
hundred feet of muzzle v'losity, I've got almost two thousan'--an' I'd
got in two shots before you begun! Then, too, if you'll take a look
around, you'll see that some other folks has got pretty fair claim on
him. Take Bill here, his 30-40 rifle shoots half-agin as swift as my
automatic--an' he begun shootin' when I did. An' look at the breed,
yonder, stickin' fresh shells in his gun. I bet that bird never
missed--an' he shot jest a hair before I did. An' the pilgrim he shot,
too--but I wouldn't bet on him--he might of missed--but the rest of us
didn't. An' I ain't sayin' you _missed_, mind you. 'Cause I think you
got him every crack out of the box. But he was dead 'fore you started
shootin'. Yup--what you done was to pump about a quart of lead into a
dead man, 'fore he could hit the ground--an', believe me--that's
_shootin'_! But the killin' part--that goes to the fastest guns."
The girl's eyes lighted: "Oh, I--I'm glad I haven't got that on my
conscience. I'd hate to think that I had killed--even him." The next
instant she was gone, and they watched her as she bent low over the
Texan, who had struggled to his elbow.
"Janet--darling," he whispered, "do you know--about--_her_?"
The girl blushed furiously at the words, and the blue-black eyes shone
like twin stars. "Yes," she breathed, "I know. She's at Cinnabar
Joe's--and she told me all about it. And, Tex, I think she's fine!"
The Texan nodded: "She is, an'," he indicated Endicott with a nod of his
head, "there's her husband over there shaking hands with Cass, an' he's
just as fine as she is--they're real folks, girl--but, never mind them.
What I want to know is--will you marry me tomorrow, dear?"
"Tomorrow!"
"Might's well be tomorrow as next week--or next month! Come on--please!
You can't get away from me, so you might as well. An' besides here I am,
shot in the leg an' if you don't give me my own way I'm likely to run a
fever, an' have to get it cut off--so it's up to you, sweetheart--a
one-legged man a month from now, or a two-legged one tomorrow. Which?"
The girl bent very close: "I--I think I'd rather have a two-legged
one--darling." And the next instant the man's arms were about her and
her lips were crushed to his.
"Say, Cass," whispered Bill Harlow, with an eye on the girl who was
bending over the wounded man. "I never shot at Purdy--I got that damned
skunk down there in the rocks that shot Tex."
"Me, too," chimed in Old Bat.
"I shot at him, too," said Endicott.
"Hell!" answered Grimshaw, with a wink, "so did I--but, don't never let
her know."
There was a moment of silence which was broken by Endicott, who stepped
forward and grasped the speaker's hand. "I am proud to be admitted to
the friendship of Cass Grimshaw, horse-thief, and--gentleman," he said,
and turned away to see the Texan looking at him with a twinkle in his
eye.