Twisted Bars by Max Brand

Author:Max Brand
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781428518421
Publisher: Dorchester Publishing

IX

The sheriff was mighty apologetic, as though he knew that he was in the wrong and did not want to have it held against him, but he had to go to the ground with every clue.

As for the posse, it was clear that they did not like this business. Muncie apparently had promised them a clear case, and they had found nothing that they expected to find; all they had done was to show themselves to The Duster as enemies, and everybody on the range knew that The Duster never forgot a good turn, and certainly never rested until he had repaid a bad one.

So the whole party was giving up hope just at the verge of success, and the whole band was cursing Muncie silently at the very instant when he was bringing them to the wishing gate, as you might say. It was a strange business.

Old Muncie said: “If there’s such a thing as instinct, instinct is showing me the right road. I tell you all, I’ve seen gunmen work before, but there’s only one real tiger on the range, and that’s The Duster. I saw him working last night, and nobody but him . . . I couldn’t be fooled. I saw him before, mind you, on the big day in Tucson. Well, I can’t be fooled about him. Duster, stand up and let’s see you.”

I remember that just at this moment a band of cattle were being driven down the road, and their mooing and the swearing of the cowpuncher, who was riding point, and the clacking of the hoofs made a bad racket, just when one wanted silence for the crisis of this scene. It was so bad that I even turned my head a little and saw a big brand on a bald-faced Hereford. It was a parcel of cows off the Larsen and Douthit ranch.

I looked back at The Duster as he put a hand on the table and leaned forward.

“Is this going to be done, Renney?” he asked coldly.

“I’ve gotta ask you to do it,” said Renney, really confused.

The Duster stood up. He had a hand on the table to help him, and he moved slowly, but I thought that I could guess under the clever make-up on his face the cost of that move. Like another bullet plowing through him, I should have said.

When he stood up, old Muncie made a sort of a rush toward him. The malice in that man was so great that it looked as though he were going to try to rip away The Duster’s clothes, but he met Thurlow’s eyes, and that was enough to stop him.

For my part, I had edged out to the side of the crowd nearest to the kitchen door.

Bullets were going to fly, if I knew my man, and I didn’t want to be in range of them. I was willing to lie for The Duster, and take care of him in every way that I could, but to draw my gun on honest men for the sake of a fellow I knew to be guilty was more than I could go.

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