Max Brand

“ A battle of giants waged in the dance-hall, where Maurie Gordon and Carrigan raged back and forth, sometimes standing at arm’s length and slugging with both hands, sometimes grappling and punching at close range, sometimes rolling over and over on the floor and fighting every inch of the way. ”

“ They were Maurie Gordon, black of face with wrath, and Dave Carey, his lip lifted from his teeth like a wolf about to snarl. They were three formidable animals, facing the swaying figure of Harry. When men act under the eyes of a woman, the careful veil of civilization is lifted. The lovely Miss Silvestre was nearby. ”

“ She had only to close her eyes and there he stood in armor—Sir Maurice de Gordon!
You might have combed the cattle ranges for five hundred miles north, east, south, and west, and never found so fine a figure of a man as Maurice Gordon. Good looks are rather a handicap than a blessing in the mountain desert, but “Maurie” Gordon was notably ready at all times for anything from a dance to a fight, and his reputation was accordingly as high among men as among women.
He made a stir wherever he went, and now as he sat in the dining-room of Jim During’s crossroads hotel, all eyes were upon him. ”

“ There came another Three Musketeers. They were mounted—Porthos, Athos, and Aratnis. And before them walked the new D’Artagnan—Carrigan. And with one voice they sang.
It should have been a sad song, for as they came closer she saw that they were battered of face and torn of clothes. Yet their song was glad. Experience, whether good or bad, makes strong men rejoice.
They trooped into the dining-room.
“Chow!” they thundered in unison, and Jac stepped to the door.
As one man they gaped.
Big Maurie Gordon walked to her with a scowl, took her face between his hands, and stared into her eyes. ”

“ She knew that the flare of the gasoline-lamp made her hair a glorious dull-red fire, touched with golden points of light, which fell again on the necklace at her throat, the only heirloom she had received from her mother, and still further down on the bronze slippers. The admiration of the men filled her heart; the trouble in the more covert stares of the girls overflowed it. A sense of power flooded in her like electricity. She knew that when she turned and dropped her hand on the arm of Carrigan it sent a tingle through him.
Her smile was casual and her eyes calm. ”

“ And with the coming of the darkness fear rushed on the crowd. A stampede started for the door, but who could find the door in that chaos of struggling bodies and swinging shadows? Through the windows came the faint light of the early dawn.
“Jac!” cried Carrigan.
But tall Ben Craig was already beside her.
“Leave it to me!” he said reassuringly. “You didn’t make no mistake when you picked me out. I’ll show you that the mountain-desert’s got one real man to make up for a lot of coyotes!”
“Wait!” she pleaded.
“Jac!” called Carrigan again. ”

“ He went through with it automatically. “No one can dance like you!” she whispered, as the hand of Ben Craig fell on Carrigan’s arm, and as she moved away with the solemn-faced cow-puncher, she saw Carrigan standing as Dave Carey had done, with the faraway look, like a man who says farewell to everything that matters in his life.
Maurie Gordon and Dave Carey, their eyes fixed upon one object on the dancing-floor, came together at a corner of the hall. She drew closer. ”

“ Carrigan sank into a chair and looked upon her as a general looks over a field of battle and calculates the chances of his outnumbered army. His eyes fell to the slender feet in the shining bronze slippers, with the small, round ankles incased in pleasant green.
His heart leaped. His eyes raised and met the freckles. He clenched his hand.
“If it wasn’t for them freckles—”
“Yes?”
“I could see your face.”
Crimson went up her throat with delicate tints, blending the clear white of the breast with the brown of the round neck. He jumped to his feet: he pointed a commanding arm. ”

“ He shifted a little to smile more directly into her eyes, and the movement caused her glance to drop to his holster. It was open. With a slow gesture—for no one, not even a woman, makes free with the weapon of another in the mountain desert—she drew the revolver out, looked it over with the keen eye of a connoisseur, glanced down the sights, spun the cylinder, and tried the balance with a deft hand.
“Clean as a whistle,” she said as she restored the revolver. “Some six-gun!” With a new respect she looked the man over from head to foot.
“Maybe under the mask,” she said, “you look almost human.” ”

“ Carrigan was rising to dance again with Dolly Maxwell. The solemn face of Ben Craig drew near. His stare was a promise as she started off with Dave Carey.
With the rehearsal on Maurie Gordon to help, she talked very smoothly now. She reached her great point: “But they cannot bury me in this country. I look upon the stars at night and do not feel alone. And I feel the strength and truth of the men of the desert. Somewhere among them I shall find—”
Here she noted Carrigan standing unemployed at the edge of the hall. He had been tagged quickly, of course, because of pretty Dolly Maxwell. ”

“ Her gaze dwelt tenderly on his startled eyes.
“I feel that you are the first real man I have ever known, Mr. Carrigan.”
“The devil you do!”
“Yes. All the men I have met have been so superficial. But you are like your own great West, Mr. Carrigan, with a heart as wide as the desert and as open as the sky. I feel it. Am I foolish to tell you this?”
Carrigan loosened his bandanna.
“Jac, are you goin’ to pull this sort of a line on all the boys?” he asked hoarsely.
“Sure I am. Why not? Don’t it get by?”
“There’ll be gun-play before the night’s over, you c’n lay that ten to one.” ”

“ The two heroes stared at each other.
“Done for!” groaned Dave Carey from the distance.
“Stung!” sighed feeble Ben Craig.
“Beat!” growled Maurie.
“Roped!” said Carrigan.
“Fellers,” said Carey, struggling to his feet, and still caressing his injured ribs, “I got an idea we better see that Fifth Avenue swell before we do more fightin’.”
“I got to find her,” said Gordon stoutly. “She depends on me. I’m the one real man she’s ever known.”
“You be damned before you find her,” said Carrigan, and the light of battle flared in his eyes again.
“Hold on,” interposed Carey. ”

“ Carey! Do you mean that you have ever drawn your revolver upon a man?”
“On a man? Me? I guess maybe you ain’t heard any of the boys tell about me!”
“Oh, yes. Of course, I’ve heard a great deal about Dave Carey. You’re the first man Mr. Carrigan pointed out to me when I came into the dance-hall.”
“Is that straight? Well, Carrigan ain’t a bad hand himself, I guess, but you can see by the way he handles himself that he ain’t much in a fight.”
“Can you tell simply by looking at a man?”
“Easiest thing in the world. Watch their hands. Look at big Maurie Gordon over there. Too big! All beef! ”

“ She escapes from herself. Her beauty is greater than her soul.
“It’s done,” said Carrigan sadly.
“Isn’t it any use?” she queried.
He thought of Maurie and hated the handsome face which rose in his memory.
“You look sick,” said Jac. “What’s the matter? Is it all in my face? Let me take a slant at the landscape after the snow has fallen.”
She ran to the cracked glass. She was a tomboy when she whirled to a stop in front of it. He watched her eyes widen; saw her straighten slightly, wonderfully. She was inches taller when she turned; she was years older.
“Are you ready, Mr. Carrigan?” ”

“ Carrigan sighed.
“Friend,” he said, “did you ever hear about the days when men wore armor?”
“Yes.”
“When I’m dancin’ with a girl that wears one of them things, I feel as if I had my arms around a man in armor. Anything else?”
A malicious light gleamed in the eyes of the proprietor.
“There’s nothing else except these girdles that a drummer palmed off on me. They’re jest elastic, that’s all. They don’t give a girl no figger.”
“H-m! But they’re a long way from armor-plate. I’ll take one.” ”

“ Carrigan was looking down at her now.
“Look here,” he said bluntly, “you can’t tie every steer in the corral to one rope, Miss Silvestre. Keep the brandin’ iron away from me. The fire ain’t hot enough to hurt me yet. The iron won’t make no mark.”
Jac thought of Maude Merriam at the great moment when her husband tells her that he loves another woman. She caught her breath. She made her eyes grow wide. “Do you really think that I would—”
“Damn it, Jac, ain’t Maurie and Carey enough for you? And there’s Ben Craig lookin’ at you like a wolf at a calf.” ”

“ Carey and Craig ducked to rush and grapple with Harry; but big Maurie, with the thought of Miss Silvestre and “real men” floating in his brain, drew back his sledge-hammer right fist and smashed it into the face of young During.
Harry pitched back through the door as if a dozen hands had thrown him. The three turned and made straight for Jac like three little boys returning to their mother for praise due to a virtuous act after a day of naughtiness and spankings. The women around the hall were silent. ”

“ She had drawn away a thousand miles and a thousand years. He discovered the most ancient of truths, that a beautiful woman is a world in herself upon which all men must look from the outside. She escapes from experience. ”

“ Now, however, he had become convinced that he had done his duty by his parched insides, and he started toward the door to take horse and ride home. On the way a vision crossed his path—a vision in green, with a floating mist of dainty coloring over her shoulders. He paused to admire. He remained to stare. ”

“ He withstood their critical admiration with the nonchalant good-nature of one who knew that, from his silk bandanna to his fine riding-boots, his outfit represented the beau-ideal of the cow-puncher.
“Where you bound for?” asked the proprietor of the hotel as the supper drew toward its close.
“The dance over to Bridewell,” said Maurie. “Damnation!”
For as he mentioned the dance, Jac, who was bringing him his second cup of coffee, started so violently that a drop of the hot liquid splashed on the back of Maurie’s neck.
“Oh!” she cried, and seized her apron to wipe away the coffee. ”

“ The doubt was gone from his face. The triumph reinforced her smile. Dolly Maxwell sailed by in the arms of Carrigan. They were dancing beautifully.
“Say,” said Gordon with sudden anxiety. “What was that funny step you done with Carrigan?”
“That was the Silvestre Slide, as they call it in New York.”
“Oh!”
“I invented it and it was picked up all along Fifth Avenue. You’ve no idea how quickly things spread in New York. They named it after me.”
In his awe he almost lost step. She enjoyed his consternation for a moment and then in pity spoke: “Shall we try it?” ”

“ Don’t bother Miss Silvestre no more to-night. It won’t bring you nothin’.”
Maurie smiled from the deeps of his pity.
“Jacqueline,” he said, with marked emphasis, “has found one man who understands her.”
Carey shook his head slowly. He spoke carefully, as one would explain a difficult problem to a child. Jac was making the second circuit of the hall with Craig. She had reached the point: “But don’t westerners as a rule call each other by the given name, Mr. Craig?”
“She’s had a sad life, Maurie,” said Carey, his eyes following the graceful vision in green. ”

“ She dropped to a chair, and Carrigan commenced to work. When a man has to do anything from roping a steer to jerking out a six-gun with the speed of light, he acquires a marvelous dexterity with his hands. ”

“ They’ve tried to—to—bury her in the West, but she’s found—”
“One real man!”
“Me!” said Maurie.
The music stopped.
“Maurie, aside from bein’ a little thick in the head, you’re a pretty straight feller in most ways. I don’t want to see you make no fool out of yourself.”
The smile of big Gordon came from an infinite distance, from a height of almost sacred compassion.
“Jacqueline and me,” he said softly, “we understand. She’s led a sad—what the hell!”
For as the dancers returned to their chairs, Harry During, lurching across the floor, stopped in front of Jacqueline. ”

“ Jac struck the hand from her chin and leaped from the table to her feet.
“Harry,” she said, “if I was a man I’d hang a bunch of fives on your chin!”
The chuckle of the stranger made her whirl.
“Get out, Whiskers,” she commanded, “or I’ll pull a gun an’ give you a free shave.”
The man rose obediently and went from the room to the porch. Harry followed him out and swung into the saddle of his horse. His father delayed an instant.
“Now cut out this talk of goin’ to the dance,” said Jim During. “You stay right here, an’ if any of the boys come in late fix them up some chow. ”

“ Throwin’ a steer ain’t much—for a man like me. You see, I got the size for it. A feller needs weight on the range.”
“But some of these cow-punchers seem quite slender.”
“Yep. But they don’t count much for a real man’s work. Take Carrigan, over there. I guess he’s a pretty fair sort when it comes to gettin’ around, but he ain’t got the weight. ”