Max Brand - The White Cheyenne (Max Brand) (Literary Thoughts Edition)

I cast about for a means of giving that offense. That was my motive rather than any Christian charity for the sufferer, I have to admit.

First, I cleaned out that wound of the straws and the bits of gravel. It was horribly inflamed from this dirt and from the long ride in the heat of the sun. On the whole, it was simply remarkable that that man was not raging in a delirium, such was the condition of that wound.

The relief was so great, as I reduced the swelling, that the poor devil broke into a perspiration. I gave him a mere taste of brandy to brace him up a bit. That brought another snarl from the guard, but he had heard enough about me to keep from accusing me to my face. He merely contented himself with muttering and glowering at me.

When this work was ended, I cast about me for some other means of angering my friend, the Indian hater. The sight of a pile of jerky in a corner of the store exactly fitted in with my wishes. I picked up a couple of big strips of that meat, and since the Cheyenne’s hands were both tied behind him, I fed him that meat, mouthful by mouthful. He ate like a savage wolf at the edge of death from starvation.

All this time he had said not a word. Except for that first upward flash of his eyes, I could not tell whether he were moved or not by my kindness to him. As a matter of fact, as I have already said, I did not care. I was aiming at provoking that other frontiersman, and, indeed, he was raging with anger before I had ended.

Just then, big Laforce came into the store. The aggrieved Indian hater registered a murmured complaint against me, and Laforce instantly granted the complaint.

Perhaps you have heard of Laforce. He was one of the biggest and ugliest men that ever lived. His face was perfectly normal except for one feature. That was an extraordinary growth of flesh about the chin which made him simply horrible to behold.

This Laforce told me, politely enough, that now that he had returned they could dispense with my services, for which he thanked me. Since there was nothing to be done unless, like a fool, I began by questioning his authority, I simply walked out of the store, rather well pleased with myself. Because I was such a fool in those days that next to making a friend I was gladdest of making an enemy, and I succeeded much better in the second line than in the first.

The instant I was out of the store, I was glad that I was in the open, for word came that a message had reached Zander City from Lost Wolf himself!

I have forgotten the name of the man. I remember that his arms from which the sleeves of his shirt had been entirely ripped away, were covered with great red freckles, though there were no freckles on his face, the skin of which had been burned by wind and sun until it was leathery.

When I first saw him, he was not doing any great deal of talking. I was one of a hundred or so who crowded around a spot under a big awning which one of the traders had stretched across the front of his shack by way of making a convenient spot of shade. Under this shadow a man was stretched. He had ridden this far into the town of Zander City; there he had tumbled from his horse. Perhaps he would not have received much attention had it not been that he managed to croak out two or three words that brought him instant notice.

He managed to speak the name of Lost Wolf, and that did handsomely for him.

They got him into the shade and there they examined him, finding that he was in a sad way. All except a rag or two of his clothes had been ripped from his body; those that remained to him were tattered. He was oddly injured. Splinters had been driven under his nails. His body was pock-marked with deep burns where other bits of wood had been thrust into his flesh and ignited.

There were other injuries of a minor sort which had appeared on him, and the people looked upon these with the most intense interest. These were the signs of Indian handicraft; and since it was also known that this very man had been in Zander City that morning, it was taken for granted that the Cheyennes were hunting close to the town.

Then someone remembered out loud that he had seen this fellow leave the town in company with the big Doctor before noon of the day! It made my flesh crawl. No matter by what stratagem this poor devil had got away, it was not likely that the Indians would fail to keep a secure hold upon the big Doctor. I did not like The Doctor, obviously. At least, he was more than a name to me, and being that, I could not wish him to be finished in the same manner that this chap had begun.

Brandy and a bit of food worked wonders with him. Presently he was able to sit up and look around him, and although he was so weak that his head hung over one shoulder, he grinned in a half-witted way for pure joy that he found himself recovering his wits among his own kind.

After that, he was able to talk. He said that he had started out with The Doctor, leaving Zander City at an hour which was shortly after my encounter with the latter. They had ridden along for not more than a single mile when a group of men started out at them from shrubbery beside the road. Three of them fastened themselves upon him and mastered him and his guns before he could make powder and lead talk for him.

A single man dashed at The Doctor, and the smaller victim declared that he could not believe his eyes when he saw The Doctor simply lifted from the horse like a child and then gently tied up in a knot!

Now, I was no Hercules, but for my hundred and fifty pounds I was a strong man and I knew how to use that strength to the greatest advantage. Yet I had been a child in the hands of the big Doctor. How was I to believe that another person had been able to treat The Doctor even more contemptuously than he had treated me? There was no such doubt in the minds of the others who were listening to this narrative, however, and a shout came from half a dozen at the same moment: “Lost Wolf?”

The man with the freckled arms nodded. He rested a moment to recruit his strength, while the crowd was spellbound.

He went on to narrate how he and The Doctor had then been carried off to a hollow in the plain where there were half a dozen other braves, and three or four squaws who had been brought along to perform all of the drudgery for the entire party. Lost Wolf now left the camp and rode off for a time. During that interval the women became ugly and finally picked on him, because he showed some fear of them. The braves grew tired of defending him, and they stood by to enjoy the brutal spectacle of the torture.

Here the story ended abruptly, and the teller almost fainted. The sight of that swollen body and the fever places where the fire had burned him was enough to explain why he could not tell about what had followed. He said that he would unquestionably have died in the hands of those female fiends if Lost Wolf had not returned suddenly to the camp and found what was happening. He had the prisoner freed at once, dressed his wounds, and then directed him to return to Zander City, and tell the inhabitants of the town that he was being sent in as a ransom in part for Running Deer, and that the ransom would be completed by the delivery of The Doctor if the town would give up Running Deer in turn.

You would never believe what a commotion that made in the camp. The whole population began to boil over the fire of that question. Even the gamblers came out in their frock coats, the rascals, and gave wise opinions. It was one of them who suggested the course that was finally followed. They declared the proper scheme was to keep no faith with such a man as Lost Wolf but to promise anything, get The Doctor back, and then keep Running Deer, also, until some sort of a court of justice could sit on him.

Perhaps you know what such a court of justice would do? It would find out that a war party had been led by Running Deer, and that during the expedition some whites had been killed or shot down and badly wounded—“with intent to kill!” Because Running Deer was in command, he would be held to be equally guilty, and therefore he would surely be condemned to death without delay.