Read Online Riders of the Silences by John Frederick - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: John Frederick
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nervous trigger-finger. Yeh,
dad is pretty well known."
"You're his son?"
"I'm Jack Boone."
"But I've heardtell me, do you look like your father?"
Jack Boone smiled, strove to frown, and then burst into surprisingly musical
laughter. It came in bursts and ripples, and seemed that it would never end. His
merriment ended slowly, for he saw the eyes of Pierre stare into blank distance,
and knew that the man with the red hair was thinking of the woman whom the
landslide had buried. Something that was partially sympathy and partially
curiosity altered Jack's expression.
After all, it was very difficult to remain hostile in front of the steady
blue eyes of this stranger.
Pierre said gravely: "Why am I under guard?"
Jack was instantly aflame with the old anger.
"Not because I want you here."
"Who does?"
"Dad."
"Put away your pop-gun and talk sense. I won't try to get away until Jim
Boone comes. I only fight men."
Even the anger and grief of the boy could not keep him from smiling in his
peculiarly winning way.
"Just the same I'll keep the shooting-iron handy. Sit still. A gun don't keep
me from talking sense, does it? You're here to take Hal's place. Hal!"
The little wail told a thousand things, and Pierre, shocked out of the
thought of his own troubles, waited.
"My brother, Hal; he's dead; he died last night, and on the way back dad
found you and brought you to take Hal's place. Hal's place!"
The accent showed how impossible it was that Hal's place could be taken by
any mortal man.
"I got orders to keep you here, but if I was to do what I'd like to do, I'd
give you the best horse on the place and tell you to clear out. That's me!"
"Then do it."
"And face dad afterward?"
"Tell him I overpowered you. That would be easy; you a slip of a boy, and me
a man."
"Stranger, it goes to show you may have heard of Jim Boone, but you don't
anyways know him. When he orders a thing done he wants it done, and he don't
care how, and he don't ask questions why. He just raises hell."
"He really expects to keep me here?"
"Expects? He will."
"Going to tie me up?" asked Pierre ironically.
"Maybe," answered Jack, overlooking the irony. "Maybe he'll just put you on
my shoulders to guard."
He moved the gun significantly.
"And I can do it."
"Of course. But he would have to let me go some time."
"Not till you'd promised to stick by him. I told him that myself, but he said
that you're young and that he'd teach you to like this life whether you wanted
to or not. Me speaking personally, I agree with Black Gandil: This is the worst
fool thing that dad has ever done. What do we want with youin Hal's place!"
And a suggestion of a sob came in Jack's voice, though he set his teeth to
keep it back.
"But I've got a thing to do right awayto-day; it can't wait.
"Give dad your word to come back and he'll let you go. He says you're the
kind that will keep your word. You see, he found you with a cross in your hand."
And Jack's lips curled again.
It was all absurd, too impossible to be real. The only real things were the
body of white-handed, yellow-haired Mary Brown under the tumbled rocks and dirt
of the landslide, and the body of Martin Ryder waiting to be placed in that
corner plot where the grass grew quicker than all other grass in the spring of
the year.
However, having fallen among madmen, he must use cunning to get away before
the outlaw and his men came back from wherever they had gone. Otherwise there
would be more bloodshed, more play of guns and hum of lead.
"Tell me of Hal," he said, and dropped his elbows on his knees as if he
accepted his fate.
"Don't know you well enough to talk of Hal."
"I'm sorry."
The boy made a little gesture of apology.
"I guess that was a low-down mean thing to say. Sure I'll tell you about
Halif I can."
For his lips trembled at the thought of the dead.
"Tell me anything you can," said Pierre gently, "because I've got to try to
be like him, haven't I?"
"You could
dad is pretty well known."
"You're his son?"
"I'm Jack Boone."
"But I've heardtell me, do you look like your father?"
Jack Boone smiled, strove to frown, and then burst into surprisingly musical
laughter. It came in bursts and ripples, and seemed that it would never end. His
merriment ended slowly, for he saw the eyes of Pierre stare into blank distance,
and knew that the man with the red hair was thinking of the woman whom the
landslide had buried. Something that was partially sympathy and partially
curiosity altered Jack's expression.
After all, it was very difficult to remain hostile in front of the steady
blue eyes of this stranger.
Pierre said gravely: "Why am I under guard?"
Jack was instantly aflame with the old anger.
"Not because I want you here."
"Who does?"
"Dad."
"Put away your pop-gun and talk sense. I won't try to get away until Jim
Boone comes. I only fight men."
Even the anger and grief of the boy could not keep him from smiling in his
peculiarly winning way.
"Just the same I'll keep the shooting-iron handy. Sit still. A gun don't keep
me from talking sense, does it? You're here to take Hal's place. Hal!"
The little wail told a thousand things, and Pierre, shocked out of the
thought of his own troubles, waited.
"My brother, Hal; he's dead; he died last night, and on the way back dad
found you and brought you to take Hal's place. Hal's place!"
The accent showed how impossible it was that Hal's place could be taken by
any mortal man.
"I got orders to keep you here, but if I was to do what I'd like to do, I'd
give you the best horse on the place and tell you to clear out. That's me!"
"Then do it."
"And face dad afterward?"
"Tell him I overpowered you. That would be easy; you a slip of a boy, and me
a man."
"Stranger, it goes to show you may have heard of Jim Boone, but you don't
anyways know him. When he orders a thing done he wants it done, and he don't
care how, and he don't ask questions why. He just raises hell."
"He really expects to keep me here?"
"Expects? He will."
"Going to tie me up?" asked Pierre ironically.
"Maybe," answered Jack, overlooking the irony. "Maybe he'll just put you on
my shoulders to guard."
He moved the gun significantly.
"And I can do it."
"Of course. But he would have to let me go some time."
"Not till you'd promised to stick by him. I told him that myself, but he said
that you're young and that he'd teach you to like this life whether you wanted
to or not. Me speaking personally, I agree with Black Gandil: This is the worst
fool thing that dad has ever done. What do we want with youin Hal's place!"
And a suggestion of a sob came in Jack's voice, though he set his teeth to
keep it back.
"But I've got a thing to do right awayto-day; it can't wait.
"Give dad your word to come back and he'll let you go. He says you're the
kind that will keep your word. You see, he found you with a cross in your hand."
And Jack's lips curled again.
It was all absurd, too impossible to be real. The only real things were the
body of white-handed, yellow-haired Mary Brown under the tumbled rocks and dirt
of the landslide, and the body of Martin Ryder waiting to be placed in that
corner plot where the grass grew quicker than all other grass in the spring of
the year.
However, having fallen among madmen, he must use cunning to get away before
the outlaw and his men came back from wherever they had gone. Otherwise there
would be more bloodshed, more play of guns and hum of lead.
"Tell me of Hal," he said, and dropped his elbows on his knees as if he
accepted his fate.
"Don't know you well enough to talk of Hal."
"I'm sorry."
The boy made a little gesture of apology.
"I guess that was a low-down mean thing to say. Sure I'll tell you about
Halif I can."
For his lips trembled at the thought of the dead.
"Tell me anything you can," said Pierre gently, "because I've got to try to
be like him, haven't I?"
"You could
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