Pulp Fiction, 1897 · page 27 of 36
The Brand Burners of Cimarron — page 27: what you’re looking at
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ere, 1in ized n. uce- ‘ive om ed, Ve. n't nd ill ce 1€ bem O RP = oe. al =”©6—l re Re ; -need all your strength and # ‘hes Gone The Brand-Burners of Cimarron. 25 “Then not a dollar of my money touches your hand!” “We shall: see!” “My reply is final.” “Major Duncan, leave me out of the question,” Goldspur requested, earnestly. “The scoundrel tells you the truth. Your daughter is a captive, and your life and honor are at stake. Buy your liberty, and ‘that of your child. Forget, for the pres- ent, that I exist.” “ He will kill you, Goldspur!” “Tt is barely possible. Do not think of me. Look only to the future of your daughter and yourself.” “That, Irefuse todo! Betray a friend? By the Lord of Hosts—never! “ Barmillo—cutthroat! You may do your worst! I defy you! You have plot- ted for revenge and a fortune, and you are balked!” Clear as a bugle rang the voice of the veteran, and his eyes flashed with scorn and detestation. Shrinking back, Captain Brand uttered an inaudible oath. Slowly crossing the room, he picked up the lamp to depart, then paused on the threshold, and said: “Nate, old boy, you have till sunrise to consider my proposition. If at that hour you are still decided to reject it, you may say your prayers!” The outlaw then passed from the room, and closed and locked the door, leaving the prisoners shrouded in darkness. A moment later, they heard him quit the house. Then Goldspur spoke: “Major, you must make up your mind to accept that villain’s offer. There is hardly one chance in ten thousand that we'll be rescued before day. Only—deal so he can’t trick you!” ‘Never, sir!” “ But your daughter, major! Surely—” “Man, that is merely aruse. I am con- fident, now, she died long ago!” “No, no! She lives.” “Good heavens! The letter was true, then? Ygu have seen her? Tell me, man!” “The letter was true, and I have seen ber. Yes.” “ And she— Curse it, man! Can’t you talk?” “A little lady, Major. But that demon spoke the truth. She is a captive.” A groan burst from Major Duncan's lips, and he sank limply upon the pallet of straw. “ Courage!” uttered Goldspur, cautious- ly hobbling across the room and seating himself beside the stricken man. ‘“ You resolution right now, Major!” “Don’t I know it? But this accursed weakness— Tell me all, man—can’t you?” Querulous as was that strain, it betray- ed returning strength, and Goldspur at onee complied with the request. Beginning with his advent in Tiptop in the role of Hercules Redrock, the de- tective narrated all that followed, con- suming considerable time in the recital. Major Duncan proved a patient listener. Not once did he interrupt the detective, = to ask an occasional important ques- tion. With the close of the narrative, silence fell between the two. It was broken, aft- er some minutes, by the veteran, who asked: “But that Denver letter, stating that the child yet lived, and was held by this Black, or Brown?—who wrote that, you think?” ‘Black himself.” “But he had fled when we reached Denver.” pi “ Nevertheless, it was Black’s work— though inspired by just what motive, I am not prepared to state. Probably, through a desire for gain.” “TI don’t hardly accept your theory, Goldspur. He had been silent for years, while his secret was worth thousands.” “That is true. But his wife had just died, and Barmillo had made a demand for the girl. These two things urged him to act. He dared not openly disobey llo, so resorted to the letter, and on rit ' : : Cie a ; , o 4 “~! . - ; 5 Fe *Z, af. wih” 4 j > m4 id tom * ' a - "ky be ‘ Wwe . ‘ Ae ; > L copa 4. > Ey + * °€ be ~ _ > “\y Sodas Da — Ane ret re ioe d 7 =f , 3 sv. @ So) ‘ 4 * 1 nl J bs i , * ><) y ? ° ¢ “i! : . ae ot ¥. - ea lat r \ (4 > é - a. : . a tel \ : ne * ve * ’ * : Ps 7 *: D Pea % bs ‘4 4 »y ‘ ied rs - +* “yy ‘, 3 AN = ri 4) ). i ‘ ry leaving Denver arranged matters so that he could be easily traced. Evidently, he desired to place the girl in Barmillo’s hands, yet have you near at hand to wrest her away.” “That is at least plausible, Goldspur. Yes, yes! you have probably gotten the truth of the matter.” “Jt is well to accept it as the truth at present, sir. If there is an error, the future will reveal it.” “ Right again.” “Now, about the ransom, Major—” “Don’t talk to me about it, Goldspur! The scoundrel must come to my terms, or go empty handed. He shall accept ransom for all or none. That is my decision, and it is final. I am not to be bribed, cajoled or forced into betraying a friend!” “But your daughter—” “There it is again! Hang it all! If she’s a true Duncan,*she’d take just my stand!” “Be fair, then, and let her decide it.” “Not another word! Not one, Gold- spur, or I’ll discharge you from this case!” Smiling grimly at that testy rejoinder, the detective stretched himself on the pallet, and soon fell asleep. He was awakened by a cold hand press- ed firmly to his lips. CHAPTER XXXI. GIMPS AT WORK. Gimps’s homely face was a picture of commingled astonishment, indignation and wrath, when he fell back from that tell-tale rent in the curtain over the win- dow of the old cabin. “Glory ter Jasper! ther perfessor is in it ag’in!: Shore, now, he needs a g’ardeen, an’ I reckon ['ll hev ter app’int myself sech. He’s on an etarnal flop fm ther fryin’ pan int’ ther fire. Great jugs o’ jeeswax! et keeps me hoppin’ hot, et does! But—’Sh! me boy! Ye talk so much yer head rattles!” Thus communing with himself, the lad stood staring blankly at the ray of light a moment, then deliberately resumed his position and again peered through the hole. Voices came from within, but he was unable to distinguish the words. Yet, he remained at the window, eyeing the scene until Captain Brand had usnered the cap- tive detective into the adjoining room. ‘“‘ Hexit! Ther scene shifts! Now, Joseph Montgomery Gimps, do yer level best. Yer must save ther perfessor, or die wid him! ” Stealing silently along the hcuse, the lad softly tried the door, and found it locked. Then he crouched beneath the window. There was no hole in the curtain at this window through which he might look; but he found something infinitely more to his liking—a broken pane! With ear placed to this aperture, he was able to hear distinctly all that passed within. Patiently, he listened until he heard Captain Brand retire and lock the door. He was strongly tempted to speak to Goldspur, but fear that there might be a guard in the room kept him silent. Then, too, his own safety was at stake. The outlaw chief might, any minute, open the rear door and discover him. With this thought in mind, Gimps retreated among the outbuildings. “Ther perfessor is safe enough till sun up,” he soliloquized, as he stole along in the shadows. ‘“ Great gun-boats! how I’d like ter spit thet gimblet-eyed savage on a toad-sticker! W’u’dn’t I, tho’? Howsom- ever, thet trick cain’t be worked, right now. Nota bit! “ W’at’ll I do? Go back an’ tell ther people? Nit! I guess Spanish John w’u’dn’t want no better excuse fer doin’ a slashin’ business with ther thrapples 0’ them gents than he c’u’d git out of a bit of a ruction, jest now! No, J. Gimps, upon you falls ther duty. You must res- cue ’em., But—how? “Then, ther gals! Bless me! they must be about, some ’eres. One-Eyed said . : : - 5s * t } CHF Sip PeaLa. Cosas SoS Seb > Re ? : o. : ot a7 ath Sm Ay ¢ ne ‘i, b\ * 7 ad r’ a ‘ ‘he + ee EE Eee EEE TT TE LT eR me A A eT; i. Vy he * . a : coed » Oe s0, an’ he c’u’dn’t—c’u’dn’t tell a lie—oh, no! W’at a kid he is!—ain’t he, now, J. G.! bey, he’s great! But, betwixt us, I kin play Davy ter his Goliar. “Ther gals ain’t in ther house, thet’s shore. I'll look around, while I figger on ther perfessor’s case.”’ With thoughts running thus, one min- ute chuckling over his discovery, the next groaning at Goldspur’s plight, Gimps cautiously made his way among the outbuildings, peering into each, un- til he came to a stoutly built smoke house. Here, he found the door locked. A guarded knock elicited no response from within, and for a moment the boy was puzzled. “ Et’s a ground-hog case,” he muttered. “Et’s ther last o’ ther coops, an’ ther on’y one with a lock. Ill bet a dollar ag’in’ Spanish John’s game eye thet I got ther turn called, too.” Then, he knelt, placed his mouth near a crevice, and in a penetrating whisper uttered the words: “Hey, gals! Gals, do ye heer me?” Again, there was no response. Then: “Gals, ’m a friend. W’y don’t ye an- swer? Et’s ther last call, I tell ye! [ cain’t sot on my knees an’ beller moon- light serenades—don’t ye—” “Who is it?” Gimps started guiltily at the plaintive tone, and hastily stammered: “ Beg pardon! I’m Gimps—a friend ter beauty in distress, you’bet! But, I say, gals, aire ye both thar?” “ Both,” the voice replied. “Thet’s good! How’re ye fixed?” “ Fixed?” “ Sitiwated—sarcumstanced, ye know?” “Oh! we’re prisoners, of course.” “Glory ter Jasper! Ef— Say, gals, come out o’ yer trance!” “ Boy, what do you mean?” “Tell me ef yer tied, cain’t ye?” “We are not.” “Then stand away, both o’ ye. got ter bu’st this door.” Both girls retreated to a corner, while Gimps carefully examined the door. It was formed of solid oak -planks, and hung upon heavy strap hinges. It was secured with a hasp, staple and padlock. Gimps whistled softly, and reflected. Then he cautiously called the girls to the door, and requested the loan of a wire hairpin, which was promptly slipped through a crevice. Deftly shaping this instrument to suit his purpose, the lad began working on the padlock. Soon, it yielded. The door swung open, and the girls stepped forth. Just as that juncture a man appeared, creeping stealthily through the gloom, and confronted the trio. ‘Boy, what are you doing?” he de- manded, sharply. “ Startin’ fer a walk, ter see ther sun- rise,’ was the cool reply. ‘An’ you, mister?” “ None of your insolence! Answer me,” Both girls, stifling the cries of alarm that rose to their lips, shrank back in the shadows. It was not so with Gimps. Fairly desperate, he lowered his head and plunged straight at the inquisitive intru- der. The shock carried both man and boy off their feet. There was a sharp gasp of pain, then Gimps slowly rose. “Glory ter Goshen! Gals, how was thet fer a collision, eh? Clean knocked out, I guess. His head bumped a stun, Lay a-holt, now, an’ we'll lock him in ther smoke-house.” Both girls had partially recovered from their fright, and promptly obeyed. In another minute, the senseless form of the unknown was dragged into the little building. Then, Gimps closed the door, placed the hasp over the staple, and snap- ped the spring padlock. ' “ Now, gals, ther coast seems clear, an’ we must make our hexit f’m this den. Keep mum, obey orders, an’ foller me.” | So saying, the lad moved quietly away, with the fugitive maidens at his heels, keeping under cover of the buildings ag I’ve 4 D Soe Hg cn.e pT pall *. ‘ wim = > 4 o4 4. + 4 "Shp pany : 4 ™ _ “ * -_ re '¢ ee ee etn Sete! YE gy A <a ee ———ae (ee , < S : : Ss = | i | \\@ | , s Lo « ~ 7 Oe SOY > tie