The Complete Dan Barry Chronicles (All 4 Westerns in One Edition) - Max Brand

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he'll be as good as new. Miss Kate, won't you listen to me?"

      She turned reluctantly towards him. Perhaps he was right and Dan would waken from his swoon as if from a healthful sleep.

      "It was that big feller with them straight eyes that done it," began Morgan.

      "The one who was sneering at Dan?"

      "Yes."

      "Weren't there enough boys here to string him up?"

      "He had three friends with him. It would of taken a hundred men to lay hands on one of those four. They were all bad ones. I'm goin' to tell you how it was, because I'm leavin' in a few minutes and ridin' south, an' I want to clear my trail before I start. This was the way it happened—"

      His back was turned to the dim light which fell through the door. She could barely make out the movement of his lips. All the rest of his face was lost in shadow. As he spoke she sometimes lost his meaning and the stir of his lips became a nameless gibbering. The grey gloom settled more deeply round the room and over her heart while he talked. He explained how the difference had risen between the tall stranger and Whistling Dan. How Dan had been insulted time and again and borne it with a sort of childish stupidity. How finally the blow had been struck. How Dan had crouched on the floor, laughing, and how a yellow light gathered in his eyes.

      At that, her mind went blank. When her thoughts returned she stood alone in the room. The clatter of Morgan's galloping horse died swiftly away down the road. She turned to Dan. Black Bart was crouched at watch beside him. She kneeled again—lowered her head—heard the faint but steady breathing. He seemed infinitely young—infinitely weak and helpless. The whiteness of the bandage stared up at her like an eye through the deepening gloom. All the mother in her nature came to her eyes in tears.

      8. RED WRITING

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      He stirred.

      "Dan—dear!"

      "My head," he muttered, "it sort of aches, Kate, as if—"

      He was silent and she knew that he remembered.

      "You're all right now, honey. I've come here to take care of you— I won't leave you. Poor Dan!"

      "How did you know?" he asked, the words trailing.

      "Black Bart came for me."

      "Good ol' Bart!"

      The great wolf slunk closer, and licked the outstretched hand.

      "Why, Kate, I'm on the floor and it's dark. Am I still in Morgan's place? Yes, I begin to see clearer."

      He made an effort to rise, but she pressed him back.

      "If you try to move right away you may get a fever. I'm going back to the house, and I'll bring you down some blankets. Morgan says you shouldn't attempt to move for several hours. He says you've lost a great deal of blood and that you mustn't make any effort or ride a horse till tomorrow."

      Dan relaxed with a sigh.

      "Kate."

      "Yes, honey."

      Her hand travelled lightly as blown snow across his forehead. He caught it and pressed the coolness against his cheek.

      "I feel as if I'd sort of been through a fire. I seem to be still seein' red."

      "Dan, it makes me feel as if I never knew you! Now you must forget all that has happened. Promise me you will!"

      He was silent for a moment and then he sighed again.

      "Maybe I can, Kate. Which I feel, though, as if there was somethin' inside me writ—writ in red letters—I got to try to read the writin' before I can talk much."

      She barely heard him. Her hand was still against his face. A deep awe and content was creeping through her, so that she began to smile and was glad that the dark covered her face. She felt abashed before him for the first time in her life, and there was a singular sense of shame. It was as if some door in her inner heart had opened so that Dan was at liberty to look down into her soul. There was terror in this feeling, but there was also gladness.

      "Kate."

      "Yes—honey!"

      "What were you hummin'?"

      She started.

      "I didn't know I was humming, Dan."

      "You were, all right. It sounded sort of familiar, but I couldn't figger out where I heard it."

      "I know now. It's one of your own tunes."

      Now she felt a tremor so strong that she feared he would notice it.

      "I must go back to the house, Dan. Maybe Dad has returned. If he has, perhaps he can arrange to have you carried back tonight."

      "I don't want to think of movin', Kate. I feel mighty comfortable. I'm forgettin' all about that ache in my head. Ain't that queer? Why, Kate, what in the world are you laughin' about?"

      "I don't know, Dan. I'm just happy!"

      "Kate."

      "Yes?"

      "I like you pretty much."

      "I'm so glad!"

      "You an' Black Bart, an' Satan—"

      "Oh!" Her tone changed.

      "Why are you tryin' to take your hand away, Kate?"

      "Don't you care for me any more than for your horse—and your dog?"

      He drew a long breath, puzzled.

      "It's some different, I figger."

      "Tell me!"

      "If Black Bart died—"

      The wolf-dog whined, hearing his name.

      "Good ol' Bart! Well, if Black Bart died maybe I'd some day have another dog I'd like almost as much."

      "Yes."

      "An' if Satan died—even Satan!—maybe I could sometime like another hoss pretty well—if he was a pile like Satan! But if you was to die—it'd be different, a considerable pile different."

      "Why?"

      His pauses to consider these questions were maddening.

      "I don't know," he muttered at last.

      Once more she was thankful for the dark to hide her smile.

      "Maybe you know the reason, Kate?"

      Her laughter was rich music. His hold on her hand relaxed. He was thinking of a new theme. When he laughed in turn it startled her. She had never heard that laugh before.

      "What is it, Dan?"

      "He was pretty big, Kate. He was bigger'n almost any man I ever seen! It was kind of funny. After he hit me I was almost glad. I didn't hate him —"

      "Dear Dan!"

      "I didn't hate him—I jest nacherally wanted to kill him— and wantin' to do that made me glad. Isn't that funny, Kate?"

      He spoke of it as a chance traveller might point out a striking feature of the landscape to a companion.

      "Dan, if you really care for me you must drop the thought of him."

      His hand slipped away.

      "How can I do that? That writin' I was tellin' you about—"

      "Yes?"

      "It's about him!"

      "Ah!"

      "When he hit me the first time—"

      "I won't hear you tell of it!"

      "The blood come down my chin—jest a

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