Gunman's Gold by Max Brand

Author:Max Brand [Brand, Max]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Western
Publisher: Roy Glashan's Library
Published: 2013-05-16T23:00:00+00:00

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20. — MARY’S IDEA

Shannigan went out of the jail and almost stumbled over Lee Swain. The little man halted fast in the middle of the sidewalk, and tapped Shannigan’s arm as he started by.

Shannigan turned and touched his forehead in salute.

“Yes, sir?” said he.

Lee Swain stepped closer and looked hard and carefully into the eyes of Shannigan—the thoughtful stare of a man who is examining a botanical specimen under a microscope, perhaps?

When he had finished his examination, which Shannigan endured with a patient humility, Swain said sharply:

“You’re no more of a mulatto than I am!”

“Have you got some colored blood in you, Mr. Swain?” asked Shannigan gently.

“I have as much as you have,” said Swain. “As for your skin—”

He swept his glance over the face of the big man, and then turned on his heel and walked rapidly down the street.

Shannigan did not glance after him. He went on with an immobile face to the hotel, and to the room of Mary Tracy.

She was there—she was always there; it was her role to be there, overwhelmed with grief, as long as her “husband” was in any danger.

When Shannigan knocked, a tremulous voice called: “Yes?”

He opened the door without further invitation, and found her stretched on the bed, with her face to the wall, and a handkerchief at her eyes.

“Yes?” quavered her voice, again. “Are your eyes red, Mary?” asked Shannigan. She jumped to her feet, smiling. “They’re not red,” said Shannigan.

“They would have been before I budged,” said she. “One rub from the corners to the center of the eyelid will do the trick. Then, one looks down, and keeps a handkerchief near the mouth, and turns partly away.”

“Why do you look down?” asked Shannigan.

“Well, that puts the eyelashes against the cheeks. And any blockhead—or rather, blockheads particularly—can easily imagine a bit of moisture in long, dark lashes like mine.”

“You’ve been adding yourself up, lately, Mary,” said he.

“Yes,” she answered.

“What’s the sum total?” he asked.

“Oh, it’s a pretty big sum total,” said the girl. “Except for my nose. Confound my nose, Sam. It ought to be bigger. The nose spoils everything. I’d be a big sum total, but if there’s one bad figure it makes the whole amount wrong. Why can’t I have more nose? You can do anything, Sam. Grow some more nose on this face of mine.”

“And you’ll be able to catch Reynolds?” said he.

“That’s the present idea,” said the girl.

“There are better things than Jack, in the world,” said Shannigan.

“He’ll do,” she answered.

“You don’t need a new nose,” answered Shannigan. “He likes you the way you are. Don’t try to change the picture while he’s satisfied with it.”

“Come here where the light falls on your face, Sam,” she begged. “I never can tell when you’re mocking me.”

“Reynolds knows that he’s still only an inch or two from hanging, but he’s more interested in you than he is in his neck.”

“Do you swear that, Sam?” she asked, delighted.

“I don’t swear it. He’s too young to know his mind.

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