Trailin'!

Max Brand

Description

Grab your hat and horse and hit the dusty trail with prolific Western writer Max Brand. In Trailin', Brand unfurls the tale of Anthony Bard, a well-born fellow who longs for adventure and ultimately finds it in the aftermath of a family tragedy. Bard sets out to capture the outlaw who wronged his kin -- and finds love along the way. A must-read for fans of classic Westerns.

Sujets

• Westerns
• Western (genre)
• Western

Informations

• Publié par: The Floating Press
• Date de parution: 01 janvier 2012
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781775455141
• Langue: English

Extrait

TRAILIN'!
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MAX BRAND
 
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Trailin'! First published in 1919 ISBN 978-1-77545-514-1 © 2012 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
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Chapter I - "La-a-a-dies an' Gen'l'mun" Chapter II - Sporting Chance Chapter III - Social Suicide Chapter IV - A Session of Chat Chapter V - Anthony is Left in the Dark Chapter VI - John Bard Chapter VII - Bluebeard's Room Chapter VIII - Marty Wilkes Chapter IX - "This Place for Rest" Chapter X - A Bit of Stalking Chapter XI - The Quest Begins Chapter XII - The First Day Chapter XIII - A Touch of Crimson Chapter XIV - Lemonade Chapter XV - The Darkness in Eldara Chapter XVI - Bluff Chapter XVII - Butch Returns Chapter XVIII - Foolish Habits Chapter XIX - The Candle Chapter XX - Joan Chapter XXI - The Swimming of the Saverack Chapter XXII - Drew Smiles Chapter XXIII - The Comedy Setting Chapter XXIV - "Sam'l Hall" Chapter XXV - Hair Like the Sunshine Chapter XXVI - "The Critique of Pure Reason" Chapter XXVII - The Stage Chapter XXVIII - Sally Breaks a Mirror Chapter XXIX - The Show Chapter XXX - The Lamp Chapter XXXI - Nash Starts the Finish Chapter XXXII - To "Apprehend" a Man Chapter XXXIII - Nothing New Chapter XXXIV - Criticism Chapter XXXV - Abandon Chapter XXXVI - Jerry Wood Chapter XXXVII - "Todo es Perdo" Chapter XXXVIII - Bacon Chapter XXXIX - Legal Murder Chapter XL - Partners Chapter XLI - Sally Weeps
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To ROBERT HOBART DAVIS Maker of Books and Men
The characters, places, incidents and situations in this book areimaginary and have no relation to any person, place or actualhappening .
Chapter I - "La-a-a-dies an' Gen'l'mun"
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All through the exhibition the two sat unmoved; yet on the whole it wasthe best Wild West show that ever stirred sawdust in Madison SquareGarden and it brought thunders of applause from the crowded house. Evenif the performance could not stir these two, at least the throng ofspectators should have drawn them, for all New York was there, from therichest to the poorest; neither the combined audiences of a seven-dayrace, a prize-fight, or a community singing festival would make such acosmopolitan assembly.
All Manhattan came to look at the men who had lived and fought andconquered under the limitless skies of the Far West, free men, wildmen—one of their shrill whoops banished distance and brought themountain desert into the very heart of the unromantic East.Nevertheless from all these thrills these two men remained immune.
To be sure the smaller tilted his head back when the horses first sweptin, and the larger leaned to watch when Diaz, the wizard with thelariat, commenced to whirl his rope; but in both cases their interestheld no longer than if they had been old vaudevillians watching a seriesof familiar acts dressed up with new names.
The smaller, brown as if a thousand fierce suns and winds had tanned andwithered him, looked up at last to his burly companion with a faintsmile.
"They're bringing on the cream now, Drew, but I'm going to spoil thedessert."
The other was a great, grey man whom age apparently had not weakened butrather settled and hardened into an ironlike durability; the winds oftime or misfortune would have to break that stanch oak before it wouldbend.
He said: "We've half an hour before our train leaves. Can you play yourhand in that time?"
"Easy. Look at 'em now—the greatest gang of liars that never threw adiamond hitch! Ride? I've got a ten-year kid home that would laugh at'em all. But I'll show 'em up. Want to know my little stunt?"
"I'll wait and enjoy the surprise."
The wild riders who provoked the scorn of the smaller man were nowgathering in the central space; a formidable crew, long of hair andbrilliant as to bandannas, while the announcer thundered through hismegaphone:
"La-a-a-dies and gen'l'mun! You see before you the greatest band ofsubduers and breakers of wild horses that ever rode the cattle ranges.Death defying, reckless, and laughing at peril, they have never failed;they have never pulled leather. I present 'Happy' Morgan!"
Happy Morgan, yelling like one possessed of ten shrill-tongued demons,burst on the gallop away from the others, and spurring his horsecruelly, forced the animal to race, bucking and plunging, half wayaround the arena and back to the group. This, then, was a type of thedare-devil horse breaker of the Wild West? The cheers travelled in wavesaround and around the house and rocked back and forth like water pitchedfrom side to side in a monstrous bowl.
When the noise abated somewhat, "And this, la-a-a-dies and gen'l'mun, isthe peerless, cowpuncher, 'Bud Reeves.'"
Bud at once imitated the example of Happy Morgan, and one after anotherthe five remaining riders followed suit. In the meantime a number ofprancing, kicking, savage-eyed horses were brought into the arena and tothese the master of ceremonies now turned his attention.
"From the wildest regions of the range we have brought mustangs thatnever have borne the weight of man. They fight for pleasure; they buckby instinct. If you doubt it, step down and try 'em. One hundred dollarsto the man who sticks on the back of one of 'em—but we won't pay thehospital bill!"
He lowered his megaphone to enjoy the laughter, and the small man tookthis opportunity to say: "Never borne the weight of a man! That chap inthe dress-suit, he tells one lie for pleasure and ten more frominstinct. Yep, he has his hosses beat. Never borne the weight of man!Why, Drew, I can see the saddle-marks clear from here; I got a mind toslip down there and pick up the easiest hundred bones that ever rolledmy way."
He rose to make good his threat, but Drew cut in with: "Don't be a damnfool, Werther. You aren't part of this show."
"Well, I will be soon. Watch me! There goes Ananias on his second wind."
The announcer was bellowing: "These man-killing mustangs will be ridden,broken, beaten into submission in fair fight by the greatest set ofhorse-breakers that ever wore spurs. They can ride anything that walkson four feet and wears a skin; they can—"
Werther sprang to his feet, made a funnel of his hand, and shouted:"Yi-i-i-ip!"
If he had set off a great quantity of red fire he could not moreeffectively have drawn all eyes upon him. The weird, shrill yell cut theringmaster short, and a pleased murmur ran through the crowd. Of course,this must be part of the show, but it was a pleasing variation.
"Partner," continued Werther, brushing away the big hand of Drew whichwould have pulled him down into his seat; "I've seen you bluff for twonights hand running. There ain't no man can bluff all the world threetimes straight."
The ringmaster retorted in his great voice: "That sounds like goodpoker. What's your game?"
"Five hundred dollars on one card!" cried Werther, and he waved afluttering handful of greenbacks. "Five hundred dollars to any man ofyour lot—or to any man in this house that can ride a real wild horse."
"Where's your horse?"
"Around the corner in a Twenty-sixth Street stable. I'll have him herein five minutes."
"Lead him on," cried the ringmaster, but his voice was not quite soloud.
Werther muttered to Drew:
"Here's where I hand him the lemon that'll curdle his cream," and ranout of the box and straight around the edge of the arena. New York,murmuring and chuckling through the vast galleries of the Garden,applauded the little man's flying coat-tails.
He had not underestimated the time; in a little less than his fiveminutes the doors at the end of the arena were thrown wide and Wertherreappeared. Behind him came two stalwarts leading between them a rangymonster. Before the blast of lights and the murmurs of the throng thebig stallion reared and flung himself back, and the two who lead himbore down with all their weight on the halter ropes. He literally walkeddown the planks into the arena, a strange, half-comical, half-terriblespectacle. New York burst into applause. It was a trained horse, ofcourse, but a horse capable of such training was worth applause.
At that roar of sound, vague as the beat of waves along the shore, thestallion lurched down on all fours and leaped ahead, but the two on thehalter ropes drove all their weight backward and checked the firstplunge. A bright-coloured scarf waved from a nearby box, and themonster swerved away. So, twisting, plunging, rearing, he was workeddown the arena. As he came opposite a box in which sat a tall young manin evening clothes the latter rose and shouted: "Bravo!"
The fury of the stallion, searching on all sides for a vent butdistracted from one torment to another, centred suddenly on this slenderfigure. He swerved and rushed for the barrier with ears flat back andbloodshot eyes. There he reared and struck at the wood with his greatfront hoofs; the boards splintered and shivered under the blows.
As for the youth in the box, he remained quietly erect before this bruterage. A fleck of red foam fell on the white front of his shirt. He drewhis handkerchief and wiped it calmly away, but a red stain remained. Atthe same time the two who led the stallion pulled him back from thebarrier and he stood with head high, searching for a more convenientvictim.
Deep silence spread over the arena; more hushed and more hushed it grew,as if invisible blankets of soundlessness were dropping down over thestirring masses; men glanced at each other with a vague surmise, knowingthat this was no part of the performance. The whole audience drewforward to the edge of