08 - Alcatraz - Murder

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Episode Transcript

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Chapter eight of Alcatraz by Max Brand. This LibriVox recording is in the public
domain. Murder. After they hadseen him in battle, it seemed to
Alcatraz that there might be some reasonfor the flight of the herd, And
yet now their running was only halfhearted. He could have raced in circles

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around them. There was one changein their arrangement. The gray mare was
second as before, but before her, in place of the black ran the
bay stallion, who had stood downwind from the rest when Alcatraz first saw
them. He perhaps might challenge thestranger as the former leader had done.

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At any rate, he should havethe opportunity for the fighting. Blood of
Alcatraz was up, and he wouldbattle with every horse in the herd until
he was accepted among them as anequal. He had a peculiar desire also
to be up there beside the graymayor. Their meeting had been indeed only

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in the passing, and yet therewas about her. How should one say
a certain something? The moment hehad made up his mind, Alcatraz flung
himself about the herd and advanced withhigh head and bounding gallop on the new
leader. But the latter had seenhis former master fall and apparently had no

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appetite for battle. He shortened hispace to a hard gallop, then to
a mincing trot, and finally loweredhis head and moved unobtrusively to the side,
with an absorbed interest in the firstknot of bunch grass that came his
way. To force battle on sucha foe was beneath the dignity of Alcatraz.

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But the whole herd had stopped,and every bright eye was watching him.
Perhaps there might be others more ambitiousthan the bay. He put up
his head, like the king ofhorses that he was, and stepped proudly
forward. Behold, they divided andleft the clear path before him. Even
the mayor, who had kicked athim when he first came up, now

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shook her head and moved aside.He reached the rear of the herd unopposed,
and turned to find that every headwas still turned towards him, with
a bright attention that was certainly notaltogether fear. This was very strange,
and while he thought it over,Alcatraz dropped his head and nibbled the nearest

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cluster of grass. At that asa signal, every head in the herd
went down. It scattered carelessly hereand there. Alcatraz watched them, bewildered.
This was what he had noted whenthe Black leader was among them.
Then he understood, and was filledwith warm content. Truly they had accepted

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him, not only as a member, but as a master. To prove
it, he trod it to thenearest hill top and neighed as he had
heard the black neigh. At oncethey bunched, looking warily towards him.
He lowered his head to nibble thegrass, and again they scattered to eat.
It was true, It was true, beyond shadow of doubt, that

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from this moment, he was aking with obedient subjects, until perhaps some
younger, mightier stallion challenged and beathim down. Happily, for Alcatraz,
such forethought was beyond his reach ofmind, and now he only knew the
happiness of power. He noticed along bodied colt, incredibly dainty of foot,

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wandering nervously near him, with prickingears and sniffing nose. Alcatraz extended
his lordly head and sniffed the velvetmuzzle whereat. The youngster snorted and darted
away, shaking his head and kickingup his heels as though he had just
bearded the lion, and was delightedat the success of his impertinence. The

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mother had come anxiously close during thisadventure, but now she regarded Alcatraz with
a friendly glance and went about herserious business of eating for two. The
gray mare was drifting near likewise,as though by inadvertence, nibbling the headed
grass tops as she came, butAlcatraz shrewdly guessed that her approach was not

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altogether unplanned. He was not displeased. His quiet happiness grew as to cloud
shadows rushed across him, and thesun warmed him. It was a pleasant
world, a pleasant, pleasant world. His people wandered in the hollow.
They looked to him for warning ofdanger. They looked at him for guidance

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in a crisis, and he acceptedthe burden cheerfully. Fear, it seemed,
had made him one of them.All his life he had dreaded only
one thing man, But these creaturesof the wild had many a fear of
the lobo, the mountain lion,the drought, the high flying buzzard,
who had claimed them dying. Andadded, above all this man, not

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that Alcatraz knew these things definitely.He could only feel that these his people
were strong only in their speed andin their timidity, and he felt power
to rule and protect them, forhe who had fought man and one had
surely nothing to dread from beasts.The great moment of his life had come

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to him, not in the crushingof the Mexican, or the baffling of
the mountain lion, or the defeatof a black leader, but in the
first gentle kindness that had ever softenedhis stern spirit. He was used to
battle, but these his people acceptedhim. He was used to suspicion and
trickery, but these trusted him blindly. He was used to hate, but

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because they had put themselves in hispower, he began to love them.
He felt a blood tie between himand the weakest colt within the range of
his eye. The herd drifted slowlydown wind until late afternoon, eating their
way rather than traveling. But whenthe heat began to wane and the slant

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sunlight took on a yellow tone,they began to show signs of unrest,
milling in a compact group, withthe foals frolicking on the outskirts of the
circle. The mares were particularly disturbed, it seemed to Alcatraz, especially the
mothers, and since all heads wereturned repeatedly towards him, he became anxious.

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Something was expected of him. Whatwas it? In case they had
scented a danger unknown to him,he cast a wide star circle around them
at a sharp gallop, but nothingmet his nostril, his eye, or
his ear except the dust with itskeen taint of alkali, and the bare

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hills and the vague horizon sounds.Alcatraz came back to his companions at a
halting trot, which denoted his uneasyalertness. They were milling more closely than
ever. The brewed mares had passedto his sullen nervousness and were kicking savagely
at everything that came near. Decidedlysomething was wrong, the wise headed gray

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Mare loped out to meet him andthrew a course of circles around him as
he came slowly forward. Plainly,she expected him to do something. But
what this might be Alcatraz could nottell. Besides, a growing thirst was
making him irritable, and the insistenceof the gray Mare made him wish to

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fasten his teeth over the back ofher neck and shake her into better behavior.
By her antics, she had workedhim around to the head of the
herd, and she had no soonerreached this point than she threw up her
head with a shrill neigh and startedoff at a gallop. The entire herd
rushed after her, and Alcatraz ina bound ranged alongside the gray and a

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neck in the lead. While heran, he winnied a soft question,
to which she replied with a tossof her head, as though impatient at
such ignorance. In reality, shewas guiding the herd. She knew it,
and Alcatraz understood her knowledge. Buthe made a show of maintaining the
guidance, keeping a sharp outlook andturning the moment she showed signs of veerying

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in a new direction. Sometimes,of course, he misread her intentions and
swerved the crossed her head, andon each of these occasions she reached out
and nipped him shrewdly. Alcatraz wastoo tapaken up in his wonder at the
actions of the herd to resent thisinsolence. For half an hour, they
kept up the steady pace, andthen Alcatraz literally ran into the reason.

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It was a beautiful little lake,bedded in hard gravel and maintained by a
dribble of water from a brook onthe north shore. Alcatraz snorted in disgust
at his folly. What had disturbedthem was exactly what had disturbed him.
Thirst. He controlled his own desirefor water, however, and followed an

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instinct that made him draw back andwait until all the rest, the oldest
stallion and the youngest colt had wadedin and plunged their noses deep in the
water. Then he went to thelake edge, a little apart from the
rest, and drank. With hisreflection glistening beneath him. It was a

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time of utter peace for the chestnut. While he drank, he watched the
line of images broken by the smallwaves in the lake, and listened to
the foals, which had only tastedthe water and now were splashing it about
with her upper lips. For hisown part, he did not drink too
much, since much water in thebelly makes a leaden burden, and Alcatraz

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felt at his leader he must alwaysbe ready for running. A scrawny colt
escaping from the heels of a yearling, floundered against him Alcatraz gave way to
the little fella and worn the yearlingback with a savage bearing of his teeth
and a shake of his head.The foal, with head cocked upon one

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side, regarded its protector with impishcuriosity, and was in the act of
nibbling at the flowing mane of thestallion when Alcatraz heard a sharp humming as
of a wasp, then the soundof a blow, and the foal straight
into the air, with head flungback. Before it hit the water,

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a report as of a hammer fallingon an anvil, burst across the level
pond, and then the colt struckheavily on its side dead. The bullet
had been aimed for the tall leader, and only the lifting of the foal's
head had saved Alcatraz. He recognizedthe report of a rifle and whirled from

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the water edge, signaling his companywith a short neigh of fear. The
arch enemy was upon them. Avolley poured in. Alcatraz, as he
gained the shore, saw an oldstallion double up with a scream of pain.
And no sound is so terrible asthe shriek of a tortured horse.

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No sound is so terrible even tohorses. It threw the leader into an
hysteria of panic. Others of theherd were falling or staggering in the lake.
The remnant rushed up the slope andover the sheltering crest of the hill
beyond Every nerve in the body ofAlcatraz urged him to leap away with arrowy

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speed, passing even the gray mareshe who now shot off across the hills.
Far in the van behind him racedweaker and slower horses, The older
stallions and the mares, with theirfolds. Instinct proved greater than fear.
He swept around the rear of hisdiminished company to round up the laggards,

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but they were already laboring to thefull of their power. As five horsemen
streamed across the crest with their riflescarried at the ready. They were a
hardy crew, these cowpunchers of theJordan ranch. But to the sternness of
them, this was ugly work.To draw a beat on a horse was
like gathering the life of a maninto the sight of the rifle. Yet

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they knew that a band of wildrunning mustangs is a perpetual menace. Already
the black leader had recruited his herdwith more than one stray from the Jordan
outfit, and it was for theblack first of all that they looked.
There was no sign of him,and in his place ranged a picture horse,

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a beautiful red chestnut with a gallopthat made one's head swim. Lou
Hervey, who had kept his menin cunning ambush near the lake, had
chosen the new leader for a target, but shot the colt in stead.
And it was lou Hervey again whoswung over the crest of the hill and
got the next chance. At Alcatraz, the foreman of the Jordan ranch pitched

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his rifle to his shoulder just asthe leader, sweeping back to round up
the rearmost of his company, presenteda broadside target. It was a sure
hit. In the certainty of hisskill. Lou Hervey allowed his hand to
swing and followed for a strike ortwo. The rhythm of that racing body,

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the sunshine of the late afternoon flashedon the flanks and on the frightened
eyes of the stallion. Mane andtail fluttered straight out with his speed,
and then he fired and jerked uphis gun to await the crashing fall of
the horse, but Alcatraz did notdrop. The moment of lingering on the

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part of the foreman saved him,for through the sights of his rifle,
Hervey had seen such grace and beautyand horse flesh that his nerve was unsteadied.
Alcatraz knew the stinging hum of abullet passed his head, and the
foreman knew a miracle. He couldnot believe his failure. Leave the chestnut

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to me, he shouted, ashis men drove their ponies over the hill,
and pulling his own horse to astand, he jerked the rifle butt
hard against his shoulder and fired again. The only result was the flirt of
the tail of the t chestnut ashe darted about a hillside and disappeared.
Hervey made no attempt to follow,but sat his saddle agape and staring,

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thinking ghostly thoughts. This was thebeginning of a legend that Alcatraz bore a
charmed life, for the mountains wererich with Indian folklore, which had drifted
far from its source and had comeby hook and crook into the lives of
the miners and cowpunchers. Into sucha background, many a wild tail fitted

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and the tale of Alcatraz was tobe one of the wildest. At any
rate. The stallion owed his lifeon this day to the superstition of lou
Hervey, which kept him anchored onhis horse until the target was gone.
A dozen times. His men couldhave dropped the chestnut, who persisted with

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a frantic courage in running behind therearmost of his companions, urging them to
greater efforts. But since Hervey hadselected this as his own prize, his
men dared not shoot. It wasa strange and beautiful thing to see that
king of horses sweep back and aroundthe slowest of his mustangs, shake his

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head at the barking guns, andthen circle forward again, as though he
would show the laggard what running shouldbe. The cowpunchers could have shot him
as he veered back. They couldhave salted him with lead as he flashed
broadside, but the orders of theirchief restrained them low. Hervey's lightest word

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had a weight with them. However, before and behind the leader of the
herd, their guns did deadly workbrewd mayers stallions young and old. Even
the folds were dropped. It washorrible work to the hardest of them,
but this horse flesh was useless.Too many times they had seen mustangs taken

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and ridden, and when they werenot hopeless outlaws, they became broken,
spirited, and useless, as thoughtheir strength lay in their freedom. With
that gone, they were valueless,even as slaves of men. Before the
slaughter ended, young or old,there was not a horse left in the
band of Alcatraz save the gray mare. Far ahead. She was already beyond

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range. And as the last ofthe fleeing horses pitched heavily forward and lay
still with oddly sprawling limbs, Oldbud Seymour drew rein and shoved his rifle
back into the long holster. Nowlook, he called, as his companions
pulled up beside him, That grayis fast as a streak, But look

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look for the red chestnut was boundingaway in pursuit of his last companion with
a winged gallop its seat. Thatthe wind caught him up and buoyed him
from stride to stride, And thecowpunchers, with hungry, burning eyes,
watched without a word until the grayand the chestnut blurred on the horizon and

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dipped out of view together. Thespell was broken in the same instant by
a stream of profanity floating up fromthe rear. It was low Hervey approaching
and swearing his mightiest. But Idon't know, said bud Seymour softly.
I feel kind of glad that LOOmissed. He glanced sharply at his companions,

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for fear they might laugh at thischildish weakness. But there was no
laughter, and by their starved eyeshe knew that every one of them was
riding over the horizon in imagination,on the back of the chestnut. End
of Chapter eight