Silvertip (1942) Read Online Free Page A
Author: Max Brand
his cloak. He ain't the kind that gives something for nothing."
"You saved my neck," said Silver.
"That's all right," said the bartender. "But I'd kind of like to ask you a question."
"Anything you like."
"You got something in your mind, Silver. What's dragging you down into that hell hole, the Haverhill?"
"Because there's a brand on the boy's horse; and the brand come out of the Haverhill Valley, they say."
"Yeah, that's all right. But there's something more o n your mind than that. What's on your mind, Silver?"
"I've killed a man," said Silver.
"According to yarns, he ain't the first."
"I've had fights with men who were born with guns i n their hands," said Silvertip. "I've fought in the dark, too, as far as that goes. But this was no fight. It wasn't murder, either. There can't be a murder except when there's murder in your mind. I was sure he had drawn on me. What was it, then?"
"It was just a kind of a wiping out of the poor youn g gent" suggested the bartender.
I wiped him out," said Silvertip slowly. "And by the look of him, he was a better man than I'll ever be. What can I do? Two things, partner, and, by heavens, I'm going to do them!"
"Two things?" said the bartender.
"If I can find out his name and the lives that he fitted into, I can find out at the same time what he was meant to do in the world. By the look of him, that would be something too fine for my hands. But whatever his job was, I can try to do it, partner."
The bartender shrugged.
"I see what you mean, Silver," said he. "And a doggone strange thing it seems to me. Now, supposing that this here gent, maybe, has got a wife and a coupla brats stowed somewhere? What would you do? Marry the widow?"
"Work for her and the youngsters," said Silvertip solemnly, "till I rubbed the flesh off the bones of my hands."
"Would you?" said the bartender. "Well, you beat me. But that ain't queer. You beat most people. Well, that's the first thing you wanta do. Mind telling me the second?"
"I'll tell you," said Silvertip, through his teeth, and suddenly in a cold rage. "You ought to be able to guess, though."
"I know," agreed the bartender, "Bandini is the bird that fixed up this job on you. You never would 'a' picked out the kid for a gun play except that he was wearing the cloak-and Bandini must 'a' known that. Are you going after him?"
"Before I die," said Silvertip, "I'll see Bandini in fron t of me, and I'll get at him with a gun or a knife or my bare hands."
"Yeah," said the bartender. "You will! I can see it like a picture in a book, Silver, I'm goin' to wish you luck. You're a cut different from all the rest of us-but I'm goin' to wish you luck. But fit yourself into the skin of another gent's life? Man, man, nobody in the world ever had an idea like that!"
That was all he said before he went out from the barn.
Silvertip, in the meantime, finished saddling and bridling. He saddled and bridled the bay mare, also, and tied her lead rope to his pommel. Then he brought the two horses out into the open and mounted.
He wanted, above all else, to go back into the restaurant and look once more at the delicate, olive-skinned beauty of that dead face, but he kept that impulse in check.
He gathered the reins for the start; inside the house he could hear the high-pitched, excited voice of Mrs. Marti-nelli, babbling out her woes.
The broncho moved suddenly and set jingling all the possessions of the dead man, which the sheriff had poured into one of the saddlebags. So Silvertip rode from Cruces into the night.
Chapter IV
The Haverhill Countr y IT WAS early morning when he got through the Haverhil l pass and looked down along the valley of the Haverhil l River. As far as his eye could reach, from the height, th e bright water was running in wide, sweeping curves, silver- c lear just below him, and a dull-blue sheen far off, wit h winkings of high lights on it now and then.
Men had told him that there was a curse on this country, and, in fact, he had
"You saved my neck," said Silver.
"That's all right," said the bartender. "But I'd kind of like to ask you a question."
"Anything you like."
"You got something in your mind, Silver. What's dragging you down into that hell hole, the Haverhill?"
"Because there's a brand on the boy's horse; and the brand come out of the Haverhill Valley, they say."
"Yeah, that's all right. But there's something more o n your mind than that. What's on your mind, Silver?"
"I've killed a man," said Silver.
"According to yarns, he ain't the first."
"I've had fights with men who were born with guns i n their hands," said Silvertip. "I've fought in the dark, too, as far as that goes. But this was no fight. It wasn't murder, either. There can't be a murder except when there's murder in your mind. I was sure he had drawn on me. What was it, then?"
"It was just a kind of a wiping out of the poor youn g gent" suggested the bartender.
I wiped him out," said Silvertip slowly. "And by the look of him, he was a better man than I'll ever be. What can I do? Two things, partner, and, by heavens, I'm going to do them!"
"Two things?" said the bartender.
"If I can find out his name and the lives that he fitted into, I can find out at the same time what he was meant to do in the world. By the look of him, that would be something too fine for my hands. But whatever his job was, I can try to do it, partner."
The bartender shrugged.
"I see what you mean, Silver," said he. "And a doggone strange thing it seems to me. Now, supposing that this here gent, maybe, has got a wife and a coupla brats stowed somewhere? What would you do? Marry the widow?"
"Work for her and the youngsters," said Silvertip solemnly, "till I rubbed the flesh off the bones of my hands."
"Would you?" said the bartender. "Well, you beat me. But that ain't queer. You beat most people. Well, that's the first thing you wanta do. Mind telling me the second?"
"I'll tell you," said Silvertip, through his teeth, and suddenly in a cold rage. "You ought to be able to guess, though."
"I know," agreed the bartender, "Bandini is the bird that fixed up this job on you. You never would 'a' picked out the kid for a gun play except that he was wearing the cloak-and Bandini must 'a' known that. Are you going after him?"
"Before I die," said Silvertip, "I'll see Bandini in fron t of me, and I'll get at him with a gun or a knife or my bare hands."
"Yeah," said the bartender. "You will! I can see it like a picture in a book, Silver, I'm goin' to wish you luck. You're a cut different from all the rest of us-but I'm goin' to wish you luck. But fit yourself into the skin of another gent's life? Man, man, nobody in the world ever had an idea like that!"
That was all he said before he went out from the barn.
Silvertip, in the meantime, finished saddling and bridling. He saddled and bridled the bay mare, also, and tied her lead rope to his pommel. Then he brought the two horses out into the open and mounted.
He wanted, above all else, to go back into the restaurant and look once more at the delicate, olive-skinned beauty of that dead face, but he kept that impulse in check.
He gathered the reins for the start; inside the house he could hear the high-pitched, excited voice of Mrs. Marti-nelli, babbling out her woes.
The broncho moved suddenly and set jingling all the possessions of the dead man, which the sheriff had poured into one of the saddlebags. So Silvertip rode from Cruces into the night.
Chapter IV
The Haverhill Countr y IT WAS early morning when he got through the Haverhil l pass and looked down along the valley of the Haverhil l River. As far as his eye could reach, from the height, th e bright water was running in wide, sweeping curves, silver- c lear just below him, and a dull-blue sheen far off, wit h winkings of high lights on it now and then.
Men had told him that there was a curse on this country, and, in fact, he had
Readers choose
Susie Moloney
Ray Bradbury
Tilly Greene
Andrea Spalding
M. L. N. Hanover
Mo Hayder
New York Christmas
Jackie Collins
Angie Daniels