02 - Alcatraz - The Coming Of David

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Episode Transcript

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Chapter two of Alcatraz by Max Brand. This LibriVox recording is in the public
domain. The Coming of David.Having reached this conclusion, the logical thing,
of course, was for mary Anneto pack and go, without waiting
to see the race or hear thebidding for the coals horses. But she

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could not leave. Hope is asblind as love. She had left the
ranch, saying to her father andto the foreman, lou Hervey, the
bank account is shrinking, but ideasare worth more than facts, and I
shall improve the horses on this place. It was a rather too philosophical speech

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for one of her years. ButOliver Jordan had merely shrugged his shoulders and
rolled another cigarette. The crushed leg, which for the past three years had
made him a cripple, had taughthim patience. Only the foreman had ventured
to smile openly. It was nosecret that lew Hervey disliked the girl heartily.

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The fall of the horse, whichmade Jordan a semi invalid, killed
his ambition in self reliance. Atthe same instant. Not only was it
impossible for him the ride since theaccident, but the free swinging self confidence
which had made him prosperous disappeared atthe same time his very thoughts walked slowly

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on foot. Since his fall,Hervey gathered the reins of the ranch affairs
more and more into his own hands, and had grown to an almost independent
power when mary Anne came home fromschool having studied music in modern languages.
Who could have suspected in mary Anneeither the desire or the will to manage

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a ranch. But to mary Anne, the necessity for following the course she
took was as plain as the palmof an open hand. The biggest state,
once such a money maker, wasnow losing. Her father had lost
his grip and could not manage hisown affairs. But who had ever heard

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of a hired man being called torun the Jordan business? As long as
there was a Jordan alive? Shemary Anne was very much alive. She
came west and took the ranch inhand. Her father smiled and gave her
whatever authority she required. In aweek, the estate was hers to control.

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But for all her determination and confidence, she knew that she could not
master cattle raising in a few weeks. She was unfemininely willing to take advice.
She even hunted for it, andthough her father refused to enter into
the thing, even with suggestions,a little help from Hervey, plus her

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indomitable energy, might have made herattempt the success. Hervey, however,
was by no means willing to help. In fact, he was profoundly disgruntled.
He had found himself beyond all expectation, in a position almost as absolute
and dignified as that of a realowner, with not the slightest interference from

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Jordan. When, on a suddenthe arrival of this pretty, little,
dark eyed girl submerged him again inhis old role of the hired man,
he took what mary Anne considered asneaking revenge. He entered at once upon
a career of the most perfect subordination. No fault could be found with his

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work. He executed every commission withscrupulous care, but when his advice was
asked, he became a sphinx.Some folks say one way and some another,
speaking personal I don't know, missJordan, you just tell me what
to do and I'll do it.This attitude irritated her so that she was

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several times on the verge of discharginghim. But how could she turn out
such an old employee and one sopainstakingly in the duties assigned to him.
Many a day she prayed for anew foreman or knight, but Hervey kept
his job, and in spite ofher best efforts, affairs went from bad

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to worse, and the more desperatelyshe struggled, the more hopelessly she was
lost. The affair of the horseswas typical, no doubt the saddle stock
were in sad need of improved blood, but this was hardly the moment to
undertake such an expenditure. Having oncesuggested the move, the quiet smiles of

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Hervey had spurred her on. Sheknew the meaning of those smiles. He
was waiting till she should exhaust eventhe immense tolerance of her father. When
she fell, he would swing againinto the saddle of control. Yet she
would go on and buy the mayresif she could. Hers was one of

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those militant spirits which once committed fightsto the end along every line. And
indeed, if she ever contemplated surrender, if she were more than once on
the verge of giving way to thetears of broken spirit, the vague,
uninterested eyes of her father and theoverwise smiles of Hervey were whips which sent

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her back into the battle. Butto day, when she regained her room
in the hotel, she walked upand down with the feeling that she was
struggling against manifest destiny, and ina rare burst of self pity, she
paused in front of the window,gritting her teeth to restrain a flood of

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tears. A cowpuncher rocked across theblur of her vision on his pony,
halted and swung down in front ofthe stable across the street. The horse
staggered as the weight came out ofthe stirrup, and that made Mary Anne
watch with a keener interest, forshe had seen a great deal of merciless

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riding since she came west, andhad always angered her. The cowpunchers used
horse flesh rather than horses, adistinction that made her hot. If a
horse were not good enough to beloved, it was not good enough to
be ridden. That was one ofher maxims. She stepped closer to the
window. Certainly the pony had beencruelly handled, for the little gray gelding

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swayed in rhythm with his panting fromhis belly. Sweat dripped steadily into the
dust, and the reins had chafedhis neck to a ladder. Mary Anne
flashed into indignation, and that,of course made her scrutinize the rider more
narrowly. He was perfect of thattype of cowboy which she detailsted most handsome,

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lithe childishly vain in his dress.About his sombrero ran a heavy width
of gold braid. His shirt wasblue silk, his bandana was red.
His boots were shop made beauties,soft and flexible, and on his heels
glittered gilded spurs. And I'll wager, thought the indignant Marianne that he hasn't

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ten dollars in the world. Heunknotted the cinches and drew off the saddle,
propping it against one hip while hesurveyed his mount. In spite of
all his vainglory, he was humanenough to show some concern, it appeared.
He called for a bucket of waterand offered it to the dripping pony.

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Marianne repressed a cry of warning adrink might ruin a horse as hot
as that, but the gay riderpermitted only a swallow, and then removed
the bucket from the reaching nose.The old man, who apparently sat all
day and every day beside the doorof the stable, only shifting from time

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to time to keep in shadow,passed his beard through his fist, and
spoke every sound. Even the pantinghorse came clearly to her through the open
window. Kind of small, buttrim that horse, not so small,
said the rider, about fifteen two. I guess measured him. Never,

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I'd say, nier on the fifteenone. Bet my spurs to ten dollars
that he's fifteen two, and that'sgood odds for you. The old man
hesitated, but the stable boy waswatching him with a grin. I'll take
that bet. If he began,the rider snapped him up so quickly that

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Marianne was angered again. Of course, he knew the height of his own
horse, and it would be criminalto take the old loafer's money, but
that was his determination. Get atape, son, we'll see. The
stable boy disappeared in the shadow ofthe door and came back at once with
the measure. The gray gelding,in the meantime, had smelled the sweetness

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of hay and was growing restive,but a sharp word from the rider jerked
him up like a tug on hisbit. He tossed his head and waited
his ears flat. Look out,Dad called the rider, as he arranged
the tape to fall from the withersof the horse. This little devil kick
your head off quicker than a winkif he gets a chance. He don't

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look mean, said the gray beard, stepping back in haste. I like
him mean, and I keep emmean, said the other. A tame
horse is like a tame man,and I don't give a damn for a
gent who won't fight. Marianne covertlystamped it was so easy to convert her
worries into anger at another that shewas beginning to hate this brutal minded old

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brummel of the Ranges. Besides,she had had bitter experience with these noisy,
careless fellows when they worked on herranch. Her foreman was such a
type grown to middle age. Indeed, her anger had the whole species called
cowpuncher, now focused to a burningpoint on him of the gilded spurs.

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The measuring was finished, he steppedback fifteen one and a quarter He announced,
you win, Dad. Mary Annewanted to cheer. You win,
con founded and where I'll get themates of this pair? You win,
and I'm the under dog, apoor loser too. Thought mary Anne.
She was beginning to round her conceptionof the man, and everything she added

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to the picture made her dislike himthe more. Cordially, he had dropped
on one knee in the dust andwas busily loosening the spurs, paying no
attention to the faint protest of thewinter that he didn't have no use for
the darned things. No ways,and finally he drowned the protests by breaking

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in the song in a wide,ringing baritone and tossing the spurs at the
feet of the others. He roselaughing, and mary Anne, with a
mental rest, re arranged one partof her preconception. Yet this carelessness was
only another form of the curse ofthe West and westerners extravagance. He turned

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now to a tossil headed three yearold boy who was wandering near, drawn
by the brilliance of the stranger.Keep away from those heels, kitty,
look out now. The yellow hairedboy, however, dazed by this sudden
centering of attention on him, staredup at the speaker with his thumb in

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his mouth, and with great frightenedeyes, he headed straight for the heels
of the gray. Take the hossbegan the rider to the stable boy,
but the stable boy's sudden reaching forthe reins made the gray toss its head
and lurch back towards the child.Mary Anne caught her breath as the stranger,

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with mouth drawn to a thin grimline, leaped for the youngster.
The gray lashed out with vicious haste, but that very haste spoiled his aim.
His heels whipped over the shoulder ofhis master. As the latter scooped
up the child and sprang away.Mary Anne, grown sick, steadied herself

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against the side of the window.She had seen the brightness of steel on
the driving hoofs. A hasty groupformed. The stable boy was guiltily leading
the horse through the door, andaround a gaudy rider. Came the old
man and a woman who had runfrom a neighboring porch, and a long

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mustached giant. But all that mariAnne distinctly saw was the white set face
of the rescuer as he soothed thechild in his arms. In a moment
it had stopped crying, and thewoman received it. It was the old
man who uttered the thought of maryAnne, that was cool, young fella,

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and darned quick and a nervy thingas I'd ever seen, tut said
the other. But the girl thoughtthat his smile was a little forced.
He must have heard those metal armedhoofs as they whirled passed his head.
There is distinctly something worthwhile about theseWesterners, after all, thought mary Anne.

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Something else was happening now. Thebig man with the sandy long mustaches
was lecturing him of the gay attire. Nervy enough, he began, But
YE oughtn't take a horse around wherekids are, a horse that ain't learned
to stop kickin'. It's a foolthing to do. I say, I

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seen once where he stopped agape onhis next word, for the lectured had
turned on. The lecturer dropped hishands on his hips and broke into loud
laughter. Excuse me for laughing,he said, when he could speak.
But I didn't see you before.And those whiskers, partner, those whiskers
are The laughter came again, agale of it, and mary Anne found

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herself smiling in sympathy, for theywere odd whiskers, to be sure.
They hung straight past the corners ofthe mouth, and then curved saber like
out from the chin. The saberparts now wagged back and forth, and
their owner moved his lips over thewords that would not come. When speech

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did break out, it was araging torrent that made Marianne stop her ears
with a shiver. Looking down thestreet, away from the storming giant and
the laughing cowpuncher, she saw thatother folks had come out to watch.
Western Like an Eastern crowd would swiftlyhem the enemies in a close circle and

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cheer them on to battle, butthese Westerners would as soon see far off
as close at hand. The mostviolent expression she saw was the broad grin
of the blacksmith. He was afine specimen of laboring manhood, that blacksmith,
With the sun glistening on his sweatybald head and over his ample soot

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darkened arms. Beside his daily workof molding iron with heat and hammer blows,
a fight between men was play,and now, with his hands on
his hips, his manner was thatof one relaxed in mood and ready for
entertainment. Presently he cast up hisright arm and swayed to the left,

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then back, then rocked forward onhis toes, presenting two huge fists red
with iron rust and oil. Itseemed that he was engaging in battle with
some airy figure before him. Thatwas enough of a hint to make mary
Anne look again towards the pair directlybelow her. The hat of the gaudy

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cowpuncher lay in the dust, whereit had evidently been knocked by the first
poorly aimed blow of him of themustaches, and the owner of that hat
danced away at a little distance.Marianne saw what the hat had hitherto concealed,
a shock of flame red hair,and she removed her fingers from her

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ears in time to hear the bigman roar, this ain't a dance,
damn you stand still in fight.Nope, laughed the other, it ain't
a dance, it's a pole orfun. Come on you. The big
man obscured the last of this insultingdescription of his ancestry with the rush of
a bull, his head lowered andhis fists doing duty as horns. Plainly,

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the giant had only to get oneblow home to end the conflict.
But swift and graceful as the tongueof fire dancing along a log, the
red headed man flashed the one side, and as he whirled Marianne saw that
he was laughing, still drunk witha joy of battle. Goliath roared past,

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thrashing the air. David swayed inwith darting fists. They closed.
They became obscure forms, whirling ina fog of dust, until Redhead leaped
out of the mist. Goliath followed, with the cloud boiling away from him,
a mountain of a man above hisforearm. It's unfair, shrilled Marianne

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that great brute, and Redhead dartedforward, a blue clad arm flicked out.
She almost heard and felt the jarof that astonishing shock, which halted
Goliath in his tracks. With onefoot raised, he wobbled an instant,
then his great knees bent and droppingin irt on his face. The dust

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spurred it like steam under the impact. The crowd now washed in from every
side to lift him up and revivehim with canteens of water. Yet they
were quite jovial in the midst oftheir work of mercy, and Marianne gathered
that the fall of Goliath was notaltogether unwelcomed to the townsmen. She saw

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the bulky figure raised to a sittingposture, saw a dull eyed face,
bloody about the mouth, and lookedaway hastily towards the red headed victor.
He was in the act of pickingthe torn fragments of his sombrero from the
dust. It had probably come incontact with the giant's spurs as they wrestled,

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for the crown was literally ripped totatters, and when its owner beat
out the dirt and placed the haton his head, the fiery hair was
still visible through the rents. Yethe was not downhearted, it seemed.
He leaned jauntily against a hitching postunder her window and rolled a cigarette,

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quite withdrawn from the crowd which wasworking over his victim. Mary Anne began
to feel that all she had seenwas an ordinary chapter in his life.
Yet in the mere crossing of thatstreet, he had lost his spurs on
a bet, saved the youngster fromdeath at the risk of his own head,
battled with a monster, and nowrolled a cigarette, cheerily complacent.

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If fifty feet of his life madesuch a story, what must a year
of it be? As though hehe felt her wander above him, He
raised his head in the act oflighting his cigarette, and Marianne was looking
down into bright, whimsical blue eyes. She was utterly unconscious of it at
the moment, but at the sightof that happy face and all the dust

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dimmed finery of the cavalier, Marianneinvoluntarily smiled. She knew what she had
done the moment he grinned in responseand began to whistle and whistle he did,
keeping the rhythm with the sway ofhis head. At the end of
the trail, I'll be weary riding, but Mary will wait with a smile

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at the door. The spurs andthe bit had been chinking and hiding,
but the end of the trail.Marianne stepped back from the window with the
blood tingling in her face. Shewas terribly ashamed for some reason, because
she knew the words of that song. A cowpuncher actually whistling at me,

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She muttered, I've never known ared headed man who wasn't insolent. The
whistling died out, a clear,ringing baritone began a new air. Oh,
father, father William, I've seenyour daughter. Dear will you traitor
for the brindled cow and the yellowsteer, And I'll throw in my writing

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boots and Marianne slammed down the window. A moment later, she was horrified
to find herself smiling. End ofchapter two,