Frontier and pioneer life -- West (U.S.) -- Fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Outlaws -- Fiction; Western stories
GUNMAN'S RECKONING
By
Max Brand
1921
GUNMAN'S RECKONING
1
The fifty empty freights danced and rolled and rattled on the rough road
bed and filled Jericho Pass with thunder; the big engine was laboring
and grunting at the grade, but five cars back the noise of the
locomotive was lost. Yet there is a way to talk above the noise of a
freight train just as there is a way to whistle into the teeth of a
stiff wind. This freight-car talk is pitched just above the ordinary
tone--it is an overtone of conversation, one might say--and it is
distinctly nasal. The brakie could talk above the racket, and so, of
course, could Lefty Joe. They sat about in the center of the train, on
the forward end of one of the cars. No matter how the train lurched and
staggered over that fearful road bed, these two swayed in their places
as easily and as safely as birds on swinging perches. The brakie had
touched Lefty Joe for two dollars; he had secured fifty cents; and since
the vigor of Lefty's oaths had convinced him that this was all the money
the tramp had, the two now sat elbow to elbow and killed the distance
with their talk.
"It's like old times to have you here," said the brakie. "You used to
play this line when you jumped from coast to coast."
"Sure," said Lefty Joe, and he scowled at the mountains on either side
of the pass. The train was gathering speed, and the peaks lurched
eastward in a confused, ragged procession. "And a durned hard ride it's
been many a time."
"Kind of queer to see you," continued the brakie. "Heard you was rising
in the world."
He caught the face of the other with a rapid side glance, but Lefty Joe
was sufficiently concealed by the dark.
"Heard you were the main guy with a whole crowd behind you," went on the
brakie.
"Yeh?"
"Sure. Heard you was riding the cushions, and all that."
"Yeh?"
"But I guess it was all bunk; here you are back again, anyway."
"Yep," agreed Lefty.
The brakie scratched his head, for the silence of the tramp convinced
him that there had been, after all, a good deal of truth in the rumor.
He ran back on another tack and slipped about Lefty.
"I never laid much on what they said," he averred. "I know you, Lefty;
you can do a lot, but when it comes to leading a whole gang, like they
said you was, and all that--well, I knew it was a lie. Used to tell 'em
that."
"You talked foolish, then," burst out Lefty suddenly. "It was all
straight."
The brakie could hear the click of his companion's teeth at the period
to this statement, as though he regretted his outburst.
"Well, I'll be hanged," murmured the brakie innocently.
Ordinarily, Lefty was not easily lured, but this night he apparently was
in the mood for talk.
"Kennebec Lou, the Clipper, and Suds. Them and a lot more. They was all
with me; they was all under me; I was the Main Guy!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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