Way of the Lawless by Max Brand (free ebooks for android TXT) 📗

suddenly: "I say it was the finest thing I ever see, the way young Lanning stood out there in the valley. Did you watch? Did you see him let Dozier get the jump on his gun? Pretty, pretty, pretty! And then his own gat was out like a flash—one wink, and there was Hal Dozier drilled clean! I tell you, boys, you got this young Lanning wrong. I sort of cotton to the kid. I always did. I liked him the first time I ever laid eyes on him. So did you all, except Larry, yonder. And it was Larry that turned you agin' him after he come and joined us. Who asked him to join us? We did!"

"Who asked him to be captain?" said Scottie.

It seemed to stagger Jeff Rankin.

"Allister used him for a sort of second man; seemed like he meant him to lead us in case anything happened to him."

"While Allister was living," said Scottie, "you know I would of followed him anywhere. Wasn't I his advance agent? Didn't I do his planning with him? But now Allister's dead—worse luck—but dead he is."

He paused here cunningly, and, no doubt, during that pause each of the outlaws conjured up a picture of the scar-faced man with the bright, steady eyes, who had led them so long and quelled them so often and held them together through thick and thin.

"Allister's dead," repeated Scottie, "and what he did while he was alive don't hold us now. We chose him for captain out of our own free will. Now that he's dead we have the right to elect another captain. What's Lanning done that he has a right to fill Allister's place with us? What job did he have at the holdup? When we stuck up the train didn't he have the easiest job? Did he give one good piece of advice while we were plannin' the job? Did he show any ability to lead us, then?"

The answer came unhesitatingly from Rankin: "It wasn't his place to lead while Allister was with us. And I'll tell you what he done after Allister died. When I seen Dozier comin', who was it that stepped out to meet him? Was it you, Scottie? No, it wasn't. It wasn't you, La Roche, neither, nor you, Clune, and it wasn't me. Made me sick inside, the thought of facin' Dozier. Why? Because I knew he'd never been beat. Because I knew he was a better man than Allister, and that Allister had been a better man than me. And it ain't no braggin' to say I'm a handier gent with my guns than any of you. Well, I was sick, and you all were sick. I seen your faces. But who steps out and takes the lead? It was the kid you grin at, Scottie; it was Andy Lanning, and I say it was a fine thing to do!"

It was undoubtedly a facer; but Scottie came back in his usual calm manner.

"I know it was Lanning, and it was a fine thing. I don't deny, either, that he's a fine gent in lots of ways—and in his place—but is his place at the head of the gang? Are we going to be bullied into having him there?"

"Then let him follow, and somebody else lead."

"You make me laugh, Jeff. He's not the sort that will follow anybody."

Plainly Scottie was working on Jeff from a distance. He would bring him slowly around to the place where he would agree to the attack on Andrew for the sake of getting at the wounded marshal.

"Have another drink, Jeff, and then let's get back to the main point, and that has nothin' to do with Andy. It is: Is Hal Dozier going to live or die?"

The time had come, Andrew saw, to make his final play. A little more of this talk and the big, good-hearted, strong-handed Rankin would be completely on the side of the others. And that meant the impossible odds of four to one. Andrew knew it. He would attack any two of them without fear. But three became a desperate, a grim battle; and four to one made the thing suicide.

He slipped silently to his feet from beside the door and picked up the canvas bag which represented his share of the robbery. Then he knocked at the door.

"Boys," he called, "there's been some hard thoughts between the lot of you and me. It looks like we're on opposite sides of a fence. I want to come in and talk to you."

Instantly Scottie answered: "Why, come on in, captain; not such hard words as you think—not on my side, anyways!"

It was a cunning enough lure, no doubt, and Andrew had his hand on the latch of the door before a second thought reached him. If he exposed himself, would not the three of them pull their guns? They would be able to account for it to Jeff Rankin later on.

"I'll come in," said Andrew, "when I hear you give me surety that I'll be safe. I don't trust you, Scottie."

"Thanks for that. What surety do you want?"

"I want the word of Jeff Rankin that he'll see me through till I've made my talk to you and my proposition."

It was an excellent counterthrust, but Larry la Roche saw through the attempt to win Jeff immediately.

"You skunk!" he said. "If you don't trust us we don't trust you. Stay where you be. We don't want to hear your talk!"

"Jeff, what do you say?" continued Andrew calmly.

There was a clamor of three voices and then the louder voice of Jeff, like a lion shaking itself clear of wolves: "Andy, come in, and I'll see you get a square deal—if you'll trust me!" Instantly Andrew threw open the door and stepped in, his revolver in one hand, the heavy sack over his other arm, a dragging weight and also a protection.

"I'll trust you, Jeff," he said. "Trust you? Why, man, with you at my back I'd laugh at twenty fellows like these. They simply don't count."

It was another well-placed shot, and he saw Rankin flush heavily with pleasure. Scottie tilted his box back against the wall and delivered his counterstroke: "He said the same thing to me earlier on in the evening," he remarked casually. "But I told him where to go. I told him that I was with the bunch first and last and all the time. That's why he hates me!"

CHAPTER 40

While he searched desperately for an answer, Andrew found none. Then he saw the stupid, big eyes of Jeff wander from his face to the face of Scottie, and he knew that his previous advantage had been completely neutralized.

"Boys," he said, and he surveyed the restless, savage figures of Clune and La Roche, "I've come for a little plain talk. There's no more question about me leadin' the gang. None at all. I wouldn't lead you, La Roche, nor you, Clune, nor you, Scottie. There's only one man here that's clean—and he's Jeff Rankin."

He waited for that point to sink home; as Scottie opened his lips to strike back, he went ahead deliberately. By retaining his own calm he saw that he kept a great advantage. Rankin began fumbling at his cup; Scottie instantly filled it half full with whisky. "Don't drink that," said Andrew sharply. "Don't drink it, Jeff. Scottie's doin' that on purpose to get you sap headed!"

"Do what he says," said Scottie calmly. "Throw the dirty stuff away, Jeff. Do what your daddy tells you. You ain't old enough to know your own mind, are you?"

Big Jeff flushed, cast a glance of defiance that included both Andrew and Scottie, and tossed off the whisky. It was a blow over the heart for Andrew; he had to finish his talking now, before Jeff Rankin was turned mad by the whisky. And if he worked it well, Jeff would be on his side. The madness would fight for Andrew.

He said: "There's no more question about me being a leader for you. Personally, I'd like to have Jeff—not to follow me, but to be pals with me."

Jeff cleared his throat and looked about with foolish importance. Not an eye wavered to meet his glance; every look was fixed with a hungry hate upon Andrew.

"There's only one thing up between the lot of us: Do I keep Hal Dozier, or do you get him—to murder him? Do you fellows ride on your way free and easy, to do what you please, or do you tackle me in that room, eat my lead, and then, if you finish me, get a chance to kill a man that's nearly dead now? How does it look to you, boys? Think it over. Think sharp!"

He knew while he spoke that there was one exquisitely simple way to end both his life and the life of Dozier—let them touch a match to the building and shoot him while he ran from the flames. But he could only pray that they would not see it.

"And besides, I'll do more. You think you have a claim on Dozier. I'll buy him from you. Here's half his weight in gold. Will you take the money and clear out? Or are you going to make the play at me? If you do, you'll buy whatever you get at a high price!" "You forget—" put in Scottie, but Andrew interrupted.

"I don't want to hear from you, Scottie. I know you're a snake. I want to hear from Jeff Rankin. Speak up, Jeff. Everything's in your hands, and I trust you!"

The giant rose from his chair. His face was white with the effect of the whisky, and one spot of color burned in each cheek. He looked gloweringly upon his companions.

"Andy," he said, "I—"

"Wait a minute," said Scottie swiftly, seeing that the scales were balancing toward a defeat.

"Let him talk. You don't have to tell him what to say," said Andrew.

"I've got a right to put our side up to him—for the sake of the things we've been through together. Jeff, have I?"

Jeff Rankin cleared his throat importantly. Scottie faced him; the others kept their unchanging eyes rivetted upon Andrew, ready for the gun play at the first flicker of an eyelid. The first sign of unwariness would begin and end the battle.

"Don't forget this," went on Scottie, having Jeff's attention. "Andy is workin' to keep Dozier alive. Why? Dozier's the law, isn't he? Then Andy wants to make up with the law. He wants to sneak out. He wants to turn state's evidence!"

The deadly phrase shocked Jeff Rankin a pace back toward soberness.

"I never thought," he began.

"You're too straight to think of it. Take another look at Lanning. Is he one of us? Has he ever been one of us? No! Look again! Dozier has hunted Lanning all over the mountain desert. Now he wants to save Dozier. Wants to risk his life for him. Wants to buy him from us! Why? Because he's turned crooked. He's turned soft. He wants to get under the wing of the law."

But Jeff Rankin swept all argument away with a movement of his big paws. "Too much talk," he said. "I want to think."

His stupid, animal eyes went laboriously around the room. "I wish Allister was here," he said. "He always knew."

"For my part," said Scottie, "I can't be bought. Not me!" He suddenly leaned to the big man, and, before Andrew could speak, he had said: "Jeff, you know why I want to get Dozier. Because he ran down my brother. And are you going to let him go clear, Jeff? Are you going to have Allister haunt you?"

It was the decisive stroke. The big head of Jeff twitched back, he opened his lips to speak—and in that moment, knowing that the battle was over and lost to him, Andrew, who had moved back, made one leap and was through the door and into the little shed again. The gun had gleamed in the hand of Larry la Roche as he sprang, but Andrew had been too quick for the outlaw to plant his shot.

He heard Jeff Rankin still speaking: "I dunno, quite. But I see you're right, Scottie. They ain't any reason for Lanning to be so chummy with Dozier. And so they must be somethin' crooked about it. Boys, I'm with you to the limit! Go as far as you like. I'm behind you!"

No room for argument now; and the blind, animal hate which Scottie and La Roche and Clune felt for Dozier was sure to drive them to extremities. Andrew sat in the dark, hurriedly going over his rifle and his revolver. Once he