16 - Alcatraz - Red Perris: Advocate

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
Chapter sixteen of Alcatraz by Max Brand. This LibriVox recording
is in the public domain. Red Paris advocate. He did
not choose to live in the ranch house because of
Hervey and because it was too far removed from the
scene of action. Instead, he selected a shack stumbling with

(00:22):
age on the west slope of the Eagle Mountains. From
his door, many a time, with his glass he picked
out the shining form of Alcatraz and the mayors in
the distance. He had even been able to follow the
maneuvers of the outlaw on several occasions when Hervey and
his men pursued with relays of horses and on the

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whole he felt that the site was such a position
as a good general must prefer, being behind the lines,
but with a view which enabled him to survey the
whole action. His quarters consisted of a single room, while
a shed leaned again an the back wall, with one
space for a horse, the other portion of the shed

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being used as a mow for hay and grain. It
was the beginning of the long still time of the
mountain twilight when Red Paris climbed to the clearing in
which the cabin stood. Ordinarily, he would have set about
preparing supper before the coming of dark. But now he

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watered and saddled his cow pony, a durable little buckskin,
and with a touch of the spurs, sent him at
a pitching gallop down the slope. It was not a
kindly thing to do, but Red Paris was not a
kindly man with horses, and though he knew that it
is hard on the shoulders of even a Mustang to

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be ridden downhill rapidly, he kept on with unabated speed
until he broke on to the well established trail which
led to the Jordan house. Then a second touch of
the spurs brought the pony close to a full gallop.
In fact, Paris was riding against time, for he guessed

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that lou Hervey, after quitting the trail of Alcatraz, would
veer straight towards the home place. And there lay before
Mary Anne an account of how the chosen hunter had
allowed the stallion to slip through his hands. This, together
with the fact that his week was up, was enough

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to bring about his discharge, for he had seen sufficient
of the girl to guess her fiery temper, and he
knew that she must have been harshly tried during the
last weeks, by his lack of success, and by the
continual sneers and mockery which the foreman and his followers
had directed at the imported horse catcher before sunset of

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that day, he would have welcomed his discharge, But now
it loomed before him as the greatest of all possible catastrophes.
Soon he was swinging down an easy road with a
tilled lamb on one side, the pastures and broad ranges
on the other. Even in the dim light, he guessed

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the wealth which the estate was capable of producing. Even
the deliberate mismanagement of hervey was barely able to create
a deficit, and Paris grew hot. When he thought of
the foreman, his own dislikes found swift expression, and were
has swiftly forgotten that a grown ranchman could nourish resentment

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towards a girl, and that because she was attempting to
take charge of her own property was well beyond his comprehension.
For he had that quality which is common to all
born leaders. He understood in what good and faithful service
should consist, with this addition that he was far more
fitted to command than to be commanded. It may be

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seen that there was a background of gloomy thought in
his mind. Yet from time to time he startled the
mustang to a harder pace by a ringing burst of song,
remembering the windlike gallop of Alcatraz. It seemed to him
that the buckskin was hardly keeping to a lope. As
a matter of fact, the cow pony was being ridden

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to the verge of exhaustion. So the songs of Paris
kept the rhythm of the departed hoofs of wild Alcatraz,
and the shining form of the stallion wavered and danced
in his mind. The ranch building grew out of the
dun evening, and he smiled at the sight. The bank

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roll of mary Anne had not been thick enough to
enable her to do the reconstruction she desired, but at
least she had been able to hire a corps of painters,
so that the drab, weathered frame structures had been lifted
in the crimson and green roofs, white yellow and flaming
orange walls. The little color is a dangerous thing, Marianne

(05:05):
had said, somewhat overwisely, but a great deal of it
is pretty certain to be pleasing. So she had let
her fancy run amok, so to speak, and behind the
merciful screen of trees there was now what Lee Hervey
profanely termed a whole damn rainbow gone plum crazy. Even

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Marianne at times had her doubts, but from a distance
and by dint of squinting, she was usually able to
reduce the conglomerate to a tolerably harmonious hole. It's a
promise of changes to come, she told herself. It's a
milestone pointing towards new goals. But the milestone set Paris

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chuckling yonder. The scarlet roof burned through the shadows above
moon white walls that was a winter shed for cows.
Straight before him were the hot orange size of the
house itself. He dismounted at the arched entrance and walked
into the patio. The first thing that Paris heard was

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the most provocative and sneering tone of the foreman, and
cursing the slowness of the buckskin, he realized that he
had been beaten to his goal. He paused in the
shadow of the arch to take stock of his position.
The squat arcade of doby surrounding the patio was lighted

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vaguely by a single lantern at his left. It barely
served to make the shadowy outlines of the house visible.
The heavy arches roughly sketched doorways and hinted at the
forms of the cowpunchers, who were arranged under the far
arcade for their after dinner smoke, all eagerly listening to

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the dialog between the mistress and the foreman. When a
breath of wind made the flame jump in the lantern chimney,
a row of grinning faces stood out from the shadow.
Mary Anne sat in a deep chair, which made her
appear girlishly slight. The glow of the reading lamp on
the table beside her fell on her hair, cast a

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highlight on her cheek, and showed her hand lying on
the open book in her lap, palm up. There was
something about that hand which spoke the paris of helpless surrender.
Something more in the gloomy eyes which looked up to
the foreman where he leaned against the pillar. The voice
drawled calmly to an end. And that's what he is.

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This gent, you've got to finish what me and the
rest started. Here. He is to tell you that I've
spoke the truth. With the uncanny western keenness of vision.
Hervey had caught sight of the approaching Paris from the
corner of his eye. He turned now and welcomed the
hunter with a wave of his hand. Mary Anne drew

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herself up with her hands clasped together in her lap,
and though in this new attitude her face was in
complete shadow, Paris felt her eyes burning out at him.
His dismissal was at hand, he knew, and then the
carelessly defiant speech which was forming in his throat died away.
Sick at heart, he realized that he must cringe under

(08:17):
the hand which was about to strike, and be humbled
under the very eye of Hervey. He was no longer free,
and the chain which held him was the conviction that
he could never be happy until he had met and
conquered wild Alcatraz, that he was as incomplete as a
holster without gun or a saddle without stirrups, until the

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speed and the great heart of the Stallion were his
to control and command. I've heard everything from low, Hervey,
said the girl, in that low, strained voice which a
woman uses when her self control is barely as great
as her anger and I suppose I don't need to
say that. After these days of waiting, mister Parris, I'm disappointed.

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I shall need you no longer. You are free to
go without giving notice. The experiment has been unfortunate. He
felt that she had searched us carefully, as her passion
permitted to find the word that would sting him. The
hot retort leaped to his lips, but he closed his
teeth tight over it. The vision of Alcatraz with a

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wind in his tail and mane galloped back across his memory,
and staring bitterly down at the girl, he reflected that
it was she who had brought him face to face
with the temptation of the outlaw horse. Then he found
that he was saying stupidly, I'm sure sorry, miss Jordan,
but I guess being sorry don't help much none at all.

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And we won't talk any longer about it, if you please,
The thing is done another failure. Mister Hervey will give
you your You can do the rest of your talking
to him. She lowered her head, she opened the book.
She adjusted it carefully to the light streaming over her shoulder.
She even summoned a faint smile of interest. As though

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her thoughts were a thousand miles from this petty annoyance
and back in the theme of the story. Paris, blind
with rage, barely saw the details, barely heard the many
throated chuckles from the watchers across the patio. Never in
his life had he so hungered to answer scorn with scorn.

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But his hands were tied. Alcatraz he must have, as
truly as a starved man must have food, and to
win Alcatraz, he must live on the Jordan ranch. He
could not speak or even think, for that maddening laughter
was growing behind him. Then he saw the hand of
Mary Anne as she turned a page. Tremble slightly. At that,

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his voice came to him him, Lady, I can't talk
to Hervey, she answered, without looking up, and he hated
her for it. Are you ashamed to face him? I'm
afraid to face him. That indeed brought her head up
and let him see all of her rage translated into

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cruel scorn. Really afraid? I don't suppose I should be surprised,
he accepted that badgering as martyrs except the anguish of fire.
I'm afraid that if I turn around and see him,
Miss Jordan, I ain't going to stop at words. The
foreman acted before she could speak. The laughter across the

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patio had stopped at Paris's speech. Plainly, Hervey must not
remain quiescent. He dropped his big hand on the shoulder
of Paris. Look here, bucco, he growled, you're tolerable much
of a kid to use man's sized talk. Turn around
even drew Paris slightly towards him, But the latter persisted

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facing the girl, even though his words were for the foreman.
She was growing truly frightened. Tell Hervey to take his
hand off me, said the horse breaker. He's old enough
to know better. If his words needed amplification, it could
be found in the wolfish benevolence of his lean face,

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or in the tremor which shook him. The thin space
of thought divided him from action. Marianne sprang from her chair.
She knew enough of Hervey to understand that he could
not swallow this insult in the presence of his cowpunchers.
She knew also, by the sudden compression of his lips

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and the white line about them, that her foreman felt
himself to be no match for this tigerish fighter. She
thrust between them. Even in her excitement, she noticed that
Hervey's hand came ready from the shoulder of Paris. The
older man stepped back with his hand on his gun.

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But in a burst of pitying comprehension, she knew that
it was the courage of hopelessness she swung about on Paris,
all her control gone, and the bitterness of a thousand
aggravations and all her failures on the ranch poured out
in words. I know you're kind, and despise it. You

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practice with your guns, getting ready for your murders, which
you call fair fights. Fair fights as well raise a
thoroughbred against a cow pony. You wrong a man and
then bully him, that's Western fair play. But I swear
to you, mister Parris, that if you so much as
touch your weapon, I'll have my men run you down

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and whip you out of the mountains. Her outbreak gave
him singularly a more even poise. There was never a
fire who was not a nervous man. There was never
a fighter who, in a crisis was not suddenly calm. Lady,
he answered, you think you know the West, but you don't.

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If me and Hervey fell out there wouldn't be a
man yonder across the patio that would lift a hand
till the fight was done. That ain't the Western way.
He had spoken much more than he was assured of.
He had even censed behind him the rising of the
cowpunchers as the girl talked, But at this appeal to

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their spirit of fair play, they settled down again. He
went on speaking, so that every man in the patio
could hear. If I won, they might tackle me one
by one, and we'd have it out till a better
man beat me fair and square. But mobs don't jump
one man lady, not around these parts, unless he stole

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a horse. I don't ask no help, said lou Hervey,
but his voice was husky and uneven. I'll stand my
ground with any man, gun fighter or not. Please be
quiet and let me handle this affair, said the girl.
As a matter of fact, it's ended. If you won't
take the money from mister Hervey, I'll pay it to

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you myself. How much nothing, said Red Paris. Are you
going to give me an example of wounded virtue? Cried
Mary Anne White with contempt. He was pale as she
and taking off his hat, he began to dent and
re dent its four sides. The girl, looking at that

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red shock of hair and the lowered eyes, guessed for
the first time that he was suffering an agony of humiliation.
Half of her anger instantly vanished, and remembering her passion
of the moment before, she began the wonder what she
had said. In the meantime, Shrugging his shoulders with a

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force indifference, hervey crossed the patio, and she was aware
that he was received in silence, no murmurs of congratulation
for the manner in which he had borne himself during
the interview. I've got to ask you to give me
about two minutes of listening, miss Jordan. Will you do it?

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At least I won't stop you say what you please,
mister Parris. She wished heartily that she could have spoken
with a little show of relenting, but she had committed
herself the coldness in her soul of souls. She wanted
to bid him take a chair and tell her, frankly,
all about it, assure him that, after a moment of

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blind anger, she had never doubted his straightforward desire to
serve her. He began to speak, it's this way I
came out here to shoot a horse, and I worked
tolerable hard to get in rifle range. I guess Hervey
has been saying that I've got into shooting distance a

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dozen times, but it ain't true. He happened to be
sneaking about to day, and he saw Alcatraz come close
by me for the first time. He paused, I give
you my word on that. You don't need to, said
the girl impetuously. His eyes flashed up at her at that,

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and he stood suddenly straight, as though she had given
him the right to stop cringing and talk like a man.
What on earth, she wondered, could have forced the man
to such humility. It made her shrink as one might
on seeing an eagle cower before a wren. As for Paris,
his resentment was in no wise abated by her friendliness.

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She had given him some moments of torture, and the
memory of that abasement would haunt him many a day.
He mutely vowed that she should pay for it, and
went on, I sure wanted to sing when I called
Alcatraz in the sights. I pulled a bead on him,
just behind the shoulders, but I could see the muscles

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along his shoulders working, and it was a pretty sight,
Miss Jordan. She nodded, frowning in the intentness with which
she followed him. She had thought of him as one
with the careless, mischievous soul of a child, But now
in quick, deep glances she reached to profounder things. I

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held the bead. He kept repeating, his glance, going blankly
past her as he struggled to find words for the
strange experience. But then I saw his ribs going in
and out. He was big where the cinches would run,
you see. And I began to understand where he got
that wind of his that never gives out. Besides, I

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somehow got the thinking about his heart under the ribs, lady,
And I figured it kind of low to stop all
that life in him with a bullet. So I swung
my bead up along his neck. He's got a long neck,
and that means a long stride till I came plumb
on his head. And just then he swung his head

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and gave me a look. He breathed deeply, and then
it was like jumping into cold water. All of a
sudden I felt hollow inside, and then all at once
I knew there'd never been a horse like him in
the mountains. I knew he was an outlaw. I knew
he was plumb bad, But I knew he was a

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king lady. And I couldn't no more shoot him than
I could lie behind a bush and shoot a man.
He was suddenly on fire, looked to me like he
was my horse, like he'd been planned for me. I
wanted him terrible bad, the way you want things when
you're a kid, the way you want Christmas the day before,

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when it doesn't seem like you could wait for tomorrow.
But he's a man killer, mister Parris, I've seen it.
His hand went out to her, and she listened in
utter amazement while he pleaded with all his heart in
his voice. Let me have a chance to make him
my horse murders or not. Let me stay here on

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the ranch and work, because there's no other good place
for hunting him. I know you want them mayors back,
But some day I'll get my rope on him, and
then I square. I'll break him, or he'll break me.
I'll break him, ride him the death, or he'll pitch
me off and finish me like he finished Cordova. But
I know I can handle him. I sure feel it

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inside of me. Lady Pay, I don't want pay. I'll
work for nothing. If I had a stake, i'd give
it to you for a chance to keep on trying
for him. I know i'm asking a pile. You want
the mayors, and you can get them the minute Alcatraz
has dropped with a bullet. But I tell you straight,
he's worth all of them, all six and more. A

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light came over his face. Miss Jordan. Let me stay
on and try my luck. And if I get him
and break him, I'll turn him over to you. And
I tell you he's the wind on four feet. He'll
do all this and then give him to me when
he's gentled and broken. If that can be done, then
why do you want him. I want to show him

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that he's got a master. He's played with me and
plum fooled me all these weeks. I want to get
on him and show him he's beat His fierce joy
in the thought was contagious. I want to make him
turn when I pull on the reins. I'll have him
start when I want to start, and stop when I

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want to stop. I'll make him glad when I talk
soft to him and shake when I talk hard. He's
made a fool of me. I'll make a fool and
show of him. Lady, will you say yes? He had
swept her off her feet, and with a mind full
of riot of imaginings, the frantic stallion, the clinging rider,

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the struggle for superiority, she breathed, Yes, Yes, a thousand
times yes, and good luck, mister Parris. He tossed his
arms above his head and cried out joyously. Lady, it's
more than ten years of life to me. But wait,
she said, suddenly aware of Hervey lingering in the background.

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I haven't the power to let you stay. It's mister
Hervey who has authority while my father is away. The
lips of red Jim twitched to a sneering benevolence mingled
with gloom. It's up to him, he echoed. Then I
might have spared myself all of this talk. It would
all be over in a moment. The foreman would utter

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the refusal read. Paris would be in his saddle and
bound towards the mountains. And that thought gave Marianne's sudden
insight into the fact that the Valley of the Eagles
would be a drearer lonely place without Red Jim. You
don't know, mister Hervey. She broke in before the foreman

(23:10):
could speak for himself. He'll bear no malice to you.
He's forgotten that squabble over, sure, I have, said, Lou Hervey,
I've forgotten all about it. But the way I figure,
Miss Jordan is that Paris is like a chunk of
dynamite on the ranch. Any day one of the boys
may run into him and there'll be a killing. They're

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red hot against him. They might start for him in
a gang one of these days, for all I know,
for his own sake, Paris had better leave the valley.
He had advanced his argument cunningly enough, and by the
way Marian's eyes grew large and her color changed, he
knew that he had made his point. Would they do that?

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She gasped? Have we such men? I don't know, said Lou.
He should rode him hard that morning, then, go, cried
Mary Anne, turning eagerly to Red Jim. For heaven's sakes,
go at once, forget Alcatraz, forget the Mayor's but start
at once, mister Parris. Even a blind man might have

(24:15):
guessed many things. From the tremor of her voice, Lou
Hervey saw enough to make his eyes contract to the
brightness of a ferrets as he glanced from the girl
to handsome Jim Parris. But the red headed adventurer was
quite blind, quite death. No matter how the thing had
been done. He knew that the girl and the foreman

(24:38):
were now both combined to drive him from the ranch
from Alcatraz. For a moment of blind anger, he wanted
to crush, kill, destroy. Then he turned on his heel
and strode towards the arch, which led into the patio.
Mind you, called Lou Hervey in warning. It's on your

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own head, Paris. If you don't leave, I'll throw ye off.
Red Jim flashed about under the shade of the arch.
Come and get me, and be damned, he said, and
then he was gone. The cowpunchers, furious at this open
defiance of them, all, boiled out into the patio growling.

(25:20):
You see, said Hervey to the girl. He won't be
satisfied till there's a killing. Keep them back, she pleaded.
Don't let them go, mister Hervey, don't let them follow him.
One sharp short order from Hervey stopped the foremost as
they ran for the entrance. In fact, not one of
them was peculiarly keen to follow such a trail as this.

(25:44):
In the darkness, breathless silence fell over the patio. Then
they heard the departing beat of the hoofs of Red's horse,
and the shot of every footfall struck home in the
heart of Marianne and filled her with a great loneliness
and terror. And then the noise of the gallop died
away in the far off night end of chapter sixteen,