Brand In the River Bottom's Grip

1. Auflage 2017
ISBN: 978-83-8136-192-7
Verlag: Ktoczyta.pl
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 6 - ePub Watermark

E-Book, Englisch, 92 Seiten

Frederick Schiller Faust (1892-1944) was an American author known primarily for his thoughtful and literary Westerns under the pen name Max Brand. Prolific in many genres he wrote historical novels, detective mysteries, pulp fiction stories and many more. This is one of his work. The plot is well constructed with well drawn subsidiary characters and provides a number of interesting twists. Highly recommended, especially for those who love the Old Western genre. Also Brand was best known for writing Western novels, and many films have been adapted based on his stories.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Brand, Max

Leseproben

II. LEW, A MEXICAN GALLANT CORDOBA straightway locked his office securely and mounted a horse strong enough to bear up his weight, but passive enough to suit his rather timorous temper; it was a sort of rough plow horse which jogged with him through the twisting alleys of the Mexican quarter, and over the rickety bridge, which was known as the danger line, and so arching above the waters of the yellow Barney River into the American section of the village on the eastern bank. He went straight to the jail, and there he found Sheriff Joe Crockett. He tumbled at once into his story. “Señor Crockett, you are a good friend to my Don Luis.” “D’you mean Lew Melody?” barked out the sheriff, who was in a rough humor. “And why in the devil should I be a good friend to him–me with my right arm workin’ like a rusty gate since he sent that slug of lead through my shoulder?” Cordoba blinked at him, and then made out the note of friendly railery which had underlain the speech. “A bullet or two will not make a difference between two American friends said he,” grinning. “But you pour out a little blood as we would pour out a little wine. Is it not so?” ‘“Aw,” said the sheriff, “I dunno about that. What’s eating you to-day?” “Your good friend, and my son, Don Luis–” “Hey! Has he married Juanita?” “Not yet–the next week–” “Then don’t call him your son until after the marriage. Go on!” ‘“Two cruel fighting demons have come up from Mexico. It happens that they had a wicked brother who met Señor Melody a year ago, and they have kept a vengeance in their hearts all this time. Now they have come to Barneytown–they, have arrived to-day–” “Well,” said Joe Crockett, “what of that?” “What of that, señor? You do not wish the murder of your friend?” Joe Crockett merely smiled, and there was a great deal of sourness in it. “I could go to that pair–what’s their name?” “Miguel and Cristobal Azatlan.” “I could go to ‘em if they’d listen to reason and give ”em some ripping good advice to get back to Mexico while they still got whole skins. But if they’ve come all this way, it’ll take more’n talk to turn ‘em back. There ain’t a thing that I can do except to let Lew Melody go ahead and put on his specialty show–which is outshooting the shooters, you might say! That’s all I can do, Cordoba. How’s other things on the far side of the river?” “The drought has been a sad thing to my poor people.” “But it’ll bring coin into the Cordoba pockets, eh?” “What is a little money to me, compared with the sorrows of my friends?” said Cordoba. And Joe Crockett did not smile. I think that if there was one man in the. valley whose honesty and simplicity could be trusted without cavil, it was none other than this old Mexican money lender. But Cordoba went back across the river with his worries, and Joe Crockett came to tell me the news. “They ain’t had their lesson yet,” was his way of phrasing it. “They’re still drifting up the valley to get Lew Melody. Well, in a couple of days there’ll be another funeral on “the far side of the danger line.” I asked him what he meant, and he explained. I was shocked, naturally. “Can’t you do something?” I asked him. “Isn’t it your duty to do something?” “The trouble with all of you ministers,” said Crockett, “is that you figger all men ought to do their business the way you do yours, and that we ought to have the same kind of business. But my job is different. Besides, I can’t protect Melody unless I put him in jail. He ain’t the kind that wants protecting; he’s the kind that lives on trouble!” “He is about to settle down,” said I, speaking my hopes rather than my beliefs. “And after he has settled down, there will be no more trouble; When he is the father of a family–” “The devil!” said Joe Crockett. “How come you talk nonsense like that?” I tried to stare him down, being very much offended, but the sheriff was in a stubborn mood. “Marriage is about the only thing that would save him, I admit,” said he, “but not a marriage with a girl that he doesn’t love.” I tried my best to defend Lew Melody. “What else could he do?” said I. “Juanita had risked her life and her reputation to take help to him; he had to offer to marry her to keep fools from talking about the poor girl, and they’ve been talking about her in spite of the marriage that’s to take place. Besides, old Cordoba has treated him like a son. It was Cordoba who settled the bank robbery trouble, as you very well know.” “Why, man,” said the sheriff, “I don’t think that Lew could have done anything else. I don’t see how he could, bein’ an honorable boy. Besides, that ain’t my business. If I was a minister,” he added with bitter point, “and had my hands mixed up in things like that all of the time, maybe I’d have been able to work out something different for him. But the way it is, he done the only straight thing. He had to offer to marry the girl.” “And why shouldn’t he, for every reason?” I asked. “She’s a Mexican,” said he. “She’s a lovely and a charming and a simple girl,” said I with heat. “Besides, there are Mexicans as good as any people in the world!” “I ain’t arguin’,” said Joe Crockett in some disgust, “I’m just sayin’!” “Can you deny that she’s lovely?” “I deny that she’s lovely like Sandy Furnival,” said he. I stamped. “Can you deny that she’s wildly in love with Lew?” I asked him. “I don’t deny that. But she ain’t no more wilder about him than Sandy is.” “They will have a magnificent establishment from Cordoba,” said I, still talking against my better reason. The sheriff raised his full height above me and laid a hand upon my shoulder. For the thousandth time I hated him because of his superior size. “Look here, Tom,” said he. “You know that this here is wrong. You know that he loves Sandy, and that Sandy loves him. You know that it’s wrong for him to marry Juanita, no matter how much looks and how much money she’s got!” “There is reason behind everything,” said I. “I would never jump at conclusions, because on the whole–” “Aw, the devil,” said Joe Crockett. “You argue like a woman!” And he turned on his heel, rudely, and strode away from me. I was-too speechless with indignation to make the least retort. I was all the more angry because I knew that he was right, and because in my heart of hearts I understood that it would have been better for me to have had his side of the argument while he took mine, as a practical man. However, there was nothing to be done about it. I had turned this question back and forth through my mind so many times, that I ached at the mere rising of it into my thoughts. As for the rest of Barneytown, the matter had been so well known for so many days, that most of ‘the talk had subsided. There was only a quiet expectation–I might say, an evil expectation. On the one hand, was Juanita, darkly beautiful, filled with grace, and burning with love for Lew Melody. On the other hand was Sandy, growing more quiet, growing more pale as the time for the marriage came nearer, but never losing her courage or her ability to keep smiling. We had made the amazing discovery that, having decided that Lew owed a great deal to the Mexican girl and that he had no other Way of repaying her than through marriage, Sandy had reconciled herself completely to the affair and looked upon Juanita without the slightest bitterness. Now, between these two was the wildest, the strongest, and the freest spirit that ever stepped in shoe leather in Barney Valley–or in the whole world, for all I know of it! Between them was Lew Melody. And the vital question was: Will Lew Melody go through with the marriage? Or will he smash through everything, scoop Sandy up in his arms at the last minute, turn his back upon the Cordobas, and ride away to marry the girl he loves? It was a very uneasy question to solve or to answer in any way, for the possibilities of Lew were the possibilities of a thunderbolt. Indeed, although I searched my mind a thousand times, I did not know which way he ought to move. On the one hand, his love was for Sandy as the whole valley, with the exception of the Cordobas, very well knew. On the other hand, his duty and his promise was to Juanita. And the Lord in heaven alone could tell what that passionate girl would do if he deserted her–particularly after the matter had gone so far as this! For my part, I would have been unable to advise him. I felt simply helpless, and so did every one else. But, in the meantime, the suspense grew more tremendous every day, for by a common concurrence of opinion, every one agreed that something was sure to happen before the marriage took place–and now the marriage was less than a week...