"That bird's after you. Crazy with booze in the head, but steady in the hand. One of two things. Clear out right now, or else say the word and I'll stay and help you get rid of him."
For the first time in his life fear swept over Terry—fear of himself compared with which the qualm he had felt after turning from Slim Dugan that morning had been nothing. For the second time in one day he was being tempted2, and the certainty came to him that he would kill Larrimer. And what made that certainty more sure was the appearance of his nemesis3, Denver Pete, in this crisis. As though, with sure scent4 for evil, Denver had come to be present and watch the launching of Terry into a career of crime. But it was not the public that Terry feared. It was himself. His moral determination was a dam which blocked fierce currents in him that were struggling to get free. And a bullet fired at Larrimer would be the thing that burst the dam and let the flood waters of self-will free. Thereafter what stood in his path would be crushed and swept aside.
He said to Denver: "This is my affair, not yours. Stand away, Denver. And pray for me."
A strange request. It shattered even the indomitable self-control of
Larrimer, having completed his survey of the dim interior of the store, stalked down upon them. He saw Terry for the first time, paused, and his bloodshot little eyes ran up and down the body of the stranger. He turned to the storekeeper, but still half of his attention was fixed6 upon Terry.
"Bill," he said, "you seen anything of a spavined, long-horned, no-good skunk7 named Hollis around town today?"
And Terry could see him wait, quivering, half in hopes that the stranger would show some anger at this denunciation.
"Ain't seen nobody by that name," said Bill mildly. "Maybe you're chasing a wild goose? Who told you they was a gent named Hollis around?"
"Black Jack8's son," insisted Larrimer. "Wild-goose chase, hell! I was told he was around by a gent named—"
"These ain't the kind of matches I want!" cried Denver Pete, with a strangely loud-voiced wrath9. "I don't want painted wood. How can a gent whittle10 one of these damned matches down to toothpick size? Gimme plain wood, will you?"
The storekeeper, wondering, made the exchange. Drunken Larrimer had roved on, forgetful of his unfinished sentence. For the very purpose of keeping that sentence unfinished, Denver Pete remained on the scene, edging toward the outskirts11. Now was to come, in a single moment, both the temptation and the test of Terry Hollis, and well Denver knew that if Larrimer fell with a bullet in his body there would be an end of Terry Hollis in the world and the birth of a new soul—the true son of Black Jack!
"It's him that plugged Sheriff Minter," went on Larrimer. "I hear tell as how he got the sheriff from behind and plugged him. This town ain't a place for a man-killing houn' dog like young Black Jack, and I'm here to let him know it!"
The torrent12 of abuse died out in a crackle of curses. Terry Hollis stood as one stunned13. Yet his hand stayed free of his gun.
"Suppose we go on to the hotel and eat?" he asked Jack Baldwin softly. "No use staying and letting that fellow deafen14 us with his oaths, is there?"
"Better than a circus," declared Baldwin. "Wouldn't miss it. Since old man Harkness died, I ain't heard cussing to match up with Larrimer's. Didn't know that he had that much brains."
It seemed that the fates were surely against Terry this day. Yet still he determined15 to dodge16 the issue. He started toward the door, taking care not to walk hastily enough to draw suspicion on him because of his withdrawal17, but to the heated brain of Larrimer all things were suspicious. His long arm darted18 out as Terry passed him; he jerked the smaller man violently back.
"Wait a minute. I don't know you, kid. Maybe you got the information I want?"
"I'm afraid not."
Terry blinked. It seemed to him that if he looked again at that vicious, contracted face, his gun would slip into his hand of its own volition19.
"Who are you?"
"A stranger in these parts," said Terry slowly, and he looked down at the floor.
He heard a murmur20 from the men at the other end of the room. He knew that small, buzzing sound. They were wondering at the calmness with which he "took water."
"So's Hollis a stranger in these parts," said Larrimer, facing his victim more fully21. "What I want to know is about the gent that owns the red hoss in front of the store. Ever hear of him?"
Terry was silent. By a vast effort he was able to shake his head. It was hard, bitterly hard, but every good influence that had ever come into his life now stood beside him and fought with and for him—Elizabeth Cornish, the long and fictitious22 line of his Colby ancestors, Kate Pollard with her clear-seeing eyes. He saw her last of all. When the men were scorning him for the way he had avoided this battle, she, at least, would understand, and her understanding would be a mercy.
"Hollis is somewhere around," declared Larrimer, drawing back and biting his lip. "I know it, damn well. His hoss is standing23 out yonder. I know what'll fetch him. I'll shoot that hoss of his, and that'll bring him—if young Black Jack is half the man they say he is! I ain't out to shoot cowards—I want men!"
He strode to the door.
"Don't do it!" shouted Bill, the storekeeper.
"Shut up!" snapped Baldwin. "I know something. Shut up!"
That fierce, low voice reached the ear of Terry, and he understood that it meant Baldwin had judged him as the whole world judged him. After all, what difference did it make whether he killed or not? He was already damned as a slayer24 of men by the name of his father before him.
Larrimer had turned with a roar.
"What d'you mean by stopping me, Bill? What in hell d'you mean by it?"
With the brightness of the door behind him, his bearded face was wolfish.
"Nothing," quavered Bill, this torrent of danger pouring about him.
"Except—that it ain't very popular around here—shooting hosses,
Larrimer."
"Damn you and your ideas," said Larrimer. "I'm going to go my own way. I know what's best."
And then it snapped in Terry, that last restraint which had been at the breaking-point all this time. He felt a warmth run through him—the warmth of strength and the cold of a mysterious and evil happiness.
"Wait, Larrimer!"
The big man whirled as though he had heard a gun; there was a ring in the voice of Terry like the ring down the barrel of a shotgun after it has been cocked.
"You agin?" barked Larrimer.
"Me again. Larrimer, don't shoot the horse."
"Why not?"
"For the sake of your soul, my friend."
"Boys, ain't this funny? This gent is a sky-pilot, maybe?" He made a long stride back.
"Stop where you are!" cried Terry.
He stood like a soldier with his heels together, straight, trembling. And
Larrimer stopped as though a blow had checked him.
"I may be your sky-pilot, Larrimer. But listen to sense. Do you really mean you'd shoot that red horse in front of the hotel?"
"Ain't you heard me say it?"
"Then the Lord pity you, Larrimer!"
Ordinarily Larrimer's gun would have been out long before, but the change from this man's humility26 of the moment before, his almost cringing27 meekness28, to his present defiance29 was so startling that Larrimer was momentarily at sea.
"Damn my eyes," he remarked furiously, "this is funny, this is. Are you preaching at me, kid? What d'you mean by that? Eh?"
"I'll tell you why. Face me squarely, will you? Your head up, and your hands ready."
In spite of his rage and wonder, Larrimer instinctively30 obeyed, for the words came snapping out like military commands.
"Now I'll tell you. You manhunting cur, I'm going to send you to hell with your sins on your head. I'm going to kill you, Larrimer!"
It was so unexpected, so totally startling, that Larrimer blinked, raised his head, and laughed.
But the son of Black Jack tore away all thought of laughter.
"Larrimer, I'm Terry Hollis. Get your gun!"
The wide mouth of Larrimer writhed31 silently from mirth to astonishment32, and then sinister33 rage. And though he was in the shadow against the door, Terry saw the slow gleam in the face of the tall man—then his hand whipped for the gun. It came cleanly out. There was no flap to his holster, and the sight had been filed away to give more oiled and perfect freedom to the draw. Years of patient practice had taught his muscles to reflex in this one motion with a speed that baffled the eye. Fast as light that draw seemed to those who watched, and the draw of Terry Hollis appeared to hang in midair. His hand wavered, then clutched suddenly, and they saw a flash of metal, not the actual motion of drawing the gun. Just that gleam of the barrel at his hip34, hardly clear of the holster, and then in the dimness of the big room a spurt35 of flame and the boom of the gun.
There was a clangor of metal at the farthest end of the room. Larrimer's gun had rattled36 on the boards, unfired. He tossed up his great gaunt arms as though he were appealing for help, leaped into the air, and fell heavily, with a force that vibrated the floor where Terry stood.
There was one heartbeat of silence.
Then Terry shoved the gun slowly back into his holster and walked to the body of Larrimer.
To these things Bill, the storekeeper, and Jack Baldwin, the rancher, afterward37 swore. That young Black Jack leaned a little over the corpse38 and then straightened and touched the fallen hand with the toe of his boot. Then he turned upon them a perfectly39 calm, unemotional look.
"I seem to have been elected to do the scavenger40 work in this town," he said. "But I'm going to leave it to you gentlemen to take the carrion41 away. Shorty, I'm going back to the house. Are you ready to ride that way?"
When they went to the body of Larrimer afterward, they found a neat, circular splotch of purple exactly placed between the eyes.
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1
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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2
tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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3
nemesis
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| n.给以报应者，复仇者，难以对付的敌手 | |
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4
scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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5
gaping
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| adj.口的；张口的；敞口的；多洞穴的v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的现在分词 )；张开，张大 | |
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6
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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7
skunk
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| n.臭鼬，黄鼠狼；v.使惨败，使得零分；烂醉如泥 | |
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8
jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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9
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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10
whittle
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| v.削（木头），削减；n.屠刀 | |
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11
outskirts
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| n.郊外，郊区 | |
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12
torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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13
stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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14
deafen
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| vt.震耳欲聋；使听不清楚 | |
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15
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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16
dodge
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| v.闪开，躲开，避开；n.妙计，诡计 | |
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17
withdrawal
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| n.取回，提款；撤退，撤军；收回，撤销 | |
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18
darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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19
volition
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| n.意志；决意 | |
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20
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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21
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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22
fictitious
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| adj.虚构的，假设的；空头的 | |
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23
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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24
slayer
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| n. 杀人者，凶手 | |
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25
butt
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| n.笑柄；烟蒂；枪托；臀部；v.用头撞或顶 | |
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26
humility
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| n.谦逊，谦恭 | |
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27
cringing
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| adj.谄媚，奉承 | |
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28
meekness
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| n.温顺，柔和 | |
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29
defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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30
instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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31
writhed
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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32
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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33
sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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34
hip
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| n.臀部，髋；屋脊 | |
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35
spurt
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| v.喷出；突然进发；突然兴隆 | |
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36
rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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37
afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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38
corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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39
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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40
scavenger
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| n.以腐尸为食的动物，清扫工 | |
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41
carrion
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| n.腐肉 | |
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