Trouble Trail by Max Brand

Author:Max Brand [Brand, Max]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Western
Publisher: Roy Glashan's Library
Published: 2020-11-10T23:00:00+00:00

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CHAPTER 23

NOW, when I was fixed up with those rusted old irons locked over my wrists, I says: “What’s your name, stranger?”

“Name of Solomon Rapp,” says he.

“Hailing out of Massachusetts?” says I.

“Connecticut,” says he.

“Well,” I asked him, “what will you be doing with Cherry Pie?”

“The mare? I dunno that I’ll get her. She belongs to the state, I suppose. I ain’t up on such things, but if she comes to me, I’ll auction her off to the highest bidder.”

I was hoping that maybe he would be interested in horses, because what I aimed to do was to get him started talking for one minute—long enough to let his attention wander. Then I would try my hand at getting loose from him.

But horses wasn’t the theme that would start his tongue to wagging.

“She would be as good as anything for your saddle work,” I suggested to him.

“I would look fine, wouldn’t I?” says he. “I would look fine draped over a thing like her! No, son, mules can cart me along good enough. I ain’t ever in a hurry, and my looks don’t bother me!”

He started me off down the valley, marching ahead with him behind, his sawed-off murder-gun hooked under his arm. But when Cherry started to follow us, Solomon Rapp halted us.

He says: “This bothers me a little—I mean, your horse following along like this. Because, from what they tell me, you and her work like partners, and do surprising things. Well, Dickon, I’d hate to be surprised and have a ten thousand dollar harvest hooked out of my hands, like this!”

I stopped and started to turn around, but he sang out in a voice that clinked like steel against steel:

“Face forward, Dickon! I hate to talk like this, but if you halt up like this again, I’ll be likely to touch off the triggers of this here Salvation Gun. Y’understand? Because after all, Dickon, you’re worth as much dead as living!”

I understood him. He was willing to talk kind and friendly, but under the surface he was hard as nails, and he meant to take no chances. So that my heart sank down another league or so into my boots. I about gave up all hopes. But I called to Cherry and made her go back, and she stood among the trees, whinnying after us, real anxious, while me and old Solomon Rapp trudged along through the forest.

I hunted around for something new to talk about.

“This’ll be a grand day for you and your wife, Rapp,” says I.

“It’ll be a fair day,” he allowed.

“The best you’ve had, I s’pose?”

“A good deal the best,” says he. “As a matter of fact, this’ll save me and put me up on my feet again, I don’t mind saying.”

“Ay,” said I, “I suppose that you’ll be putting the money right slap into the bank?”

“You suppose wrong,” says he. “Because banks is made for wise folks to run and for fools to run to.”

He chuckled a little. You could see that this man Rapp had his opinions about most things and was used to having them listened to.

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