Reilly's Luck (1970) (7 page)

He looked at Val. "You should be asleep. You're too young to keep such hours."

"I wasn't tired."

Will glanced at the book. "Faust?Where did you get hold of that?"

"It was a lady. The one you were talking to this afternoon. Louise, I think you called her."

"You talked to her?"

"Yes, sir. She was asking about you. If I was your son."

Will Reilly was silent for a moment, then he muttered to himself, "So she didn't believe me? But why should she? I'm a gambler." His tone was filled with self-contempt, and Val watched him curiously. He had never seen Will like this before.

Will gestured at the book. "Read that--and then read Byron'sManfred. That's the only Faust who acted as if he had any guts. The rest of them were a pack of sniveling weaklings who learned nothing that was of any help to them."

Val never knew why he said what he did, but he knew his friend was in trouble. "Have you learned anything of any use to you?" the boy asked.

Will gave him a quick, hard glance. Then he chuckled. "Why, now, there's a likely question if I've ever heard one. Yes, I've learned a lot, but there are some situations where all a man knows is of no use to him. Val, I've been an ungodly fool. I've stepped in where I had no business, and the best I can get out of it is the worst."

"What are you going to do?"

"Play my hand out ... as far as it will take me. I've taken chips in the game, and I'll not back out now."

"And if you fail, sir?"

Reilly gave Val one of those flashing Irish smiles that lit up his face. "Why, then, Val, I'll need a lot of luck and a fast horse."

Well, Val thought, it would not be the first time they had left town in a hurry. And he wondered if Will had actually given any thought to the fast horses.

Val was not yet ten years old, but he had been reared in a hard, dangerous school. The next morning when he saw Will mount up and ride off toward the forest alone, he went over to the stable where horses were for sale or for hire. He had talked to the hostlers before, and the owners, too. There were two gray horses that he particularly liked, and he stood looking at them now.

"Would you sell those horses," he asked, "if I could get my uncle to buy?"

"The horses are for sale." The hostler was an Italian, and friendly. "Everything is for sale if the price is right."

He waited until another hostler, a German, walked away and then said, "Your uncle should be careful. He is making a dangerous enemy."

"You are our friend?"

The Italian shrugged. "I like him ... your uncle. He is a man."

"Then sell me the horses and say nothing about it."

The hostler stared at him. "You are serious? You're only a child."

"Sir, I have traveled with my uncle for a long time. I know how it is with him. He lets me do things."

"Yes, I have seen that." The man rubbed his jaw. "You have the money? It is quite a lot."

"Yes, sir. I can get it."

They haggled briefly, but it was largely a matter of form. Val knew he would have to pay a little too much, but he remembered what Will Reilly often said: "The cost of something is measured by your need of it."

"And the horses? Where will you keep them?" the Italian asked.

"Take them tomorrow, when nobody is watching, to the red barn. I shall want them saddled and ready."

That called for some more haggling but to a boy who had spent his life among men, and who had more than once watched Will make preparations for a hurried leavetaking, it offered no problems.

The old stone barn was deserted, a place where, as Val knew, the Italian hostler often met a girl friend. Sometimes Val had walked to the barn with him and they had sat talking and looking across the valley until the girl came, at which time Val would leave them alone.

So, sitting in the pleasant shade of the barn, or in the sunlight, if the hour was early, Val had indicated his impression that the mountains before them could not be crossed into Italy, nor into Switzerland. This the Italian was quick to deny.

"There are smugglers who cross them all the time," he said. "They have secret paths over the mountains. In fact," he added, "I know some of the smugglers, and have used some of the trails."

Now he said after a while, "Why do you think my uncle is in danger?"

Luigi shrugged. "It is plain to see. Your uncle is a handsome man, a strong man. The woman he is in love with, and who, I think, is in love with him, comes of a very important family in Russia, and it is said she is to marry a man here who is of a very old family. This is arranged by her cousin, Prince Pavel, and all is well. Then comes your uncle.

"The lady is out riding. They meet, and your uncle comments on the view. The lady replies ... and it had begun.

"I was riding with her to be sure all goes well with her, and when we have passed the lady asks me about him. They meet again. By accident? I do not think so. This time they talk of mountains, of the Urals, the Rockies, and these Alps. Your uncle talks well, very well.

"Again they meet, and again. Someone with nothing better to do speaks of it, and her cousin, Prince Pavel, is furious. It is his wish for his cousin to marry the German, who is very rich and of noble family. The lady is warned ... I know it is so, although I did not see it--only their faces afterward.

"They meet again, and then your uncle is warned."

Will Reilly warned? They did not know him as Val did. He was a proud, fierce man under that cool face he showed to the world.

They warned Will Reilly, who had killed three men in gun duels, and another with a knife in a dark room where they fought to the death? Who had fought the Sioux and the Apaches?

Suddenly Val was afraid. He was afraid for Will, and he was afraid for those others who did not know Will Reilly as well as he did.

Chapter
Five.

Val had walked out very early in the morning to see if the gray horses were in the barn, and when he returned he strolled along to the cafe where he was to meet Will.

He loved the quaint old town which had been a trading post, which had been founded in the twelfth century, or before. He loved standing on the bank of the swift-flowing Inn River, and watching the water. He loved the mountains that loomed so close to the city, and the picturesque buildings of a bygone time. Sometimes he thought he never wanted to leave Innsbruck, but he knew the wishing was useless, for they never remained long in one place.

In Innsbruck Will had done no gambling. Here he thought only of Louise, and Val liked her himself. He had met Louise twice, and they had talked for a long time on both occasions. The first time was at the Munding, and she had bought him a pastry. That was when she had merely met Will Reilly when riding, and had not really known him at all. She had been very curious, but Val was used to that; women were always curious about Will Reilly.

Val never said that Will was a gambler. He was a mining man, a story in which there was some truth, for Will did have a mining claim in Nevada, and he owned shares in several mining ventures.

Val walked along the Maria-Theresien-Strasse to where it became the narrow Herzog-Friedrich-Strasse, and went on until he came to a little cafe where Will told him Goethe used to come to sip wine. He went inside and found a table near a window where he could watch the street.

A man came walking briskly along the street, but when he was opposite the cafe he stopped and loitered idly.

Val was curious. For more than five years Will Reilly had been training him always to observe anything that seemed unusual or out of place, and this man had been hurrying as if he was afraid of being late, and then had stopped and merely loafed. The hour was early, the cafe had just opened, and there was no one else about.

Then another man strolled up the street and, without paying any attention to the one who waited outside, he entered the cafe and seated himself at a table facing that of Val, with the doorway between them.

A couple of minutes later two men came up the street and stopped outside to talk.

Val had eaten breakfast at that cafe for several consecutive mornings, and had never seen any of these men there before. Suddenly, he was frightened, and he remembered what Luigi, the Italian hostler, had told him.

He started to get up, but the man facing him lifted a hand. "Stay where you are, boy. You will not be hurt."

"I am going because I do not wish you to be hurt," Val said.

The man seemed amused. "Us? Hurt?" he said, and added, "I am sorry you have to see this, boy, but your uncle must be taught a lesson, and it will do you no harm. You may learn from it."

"My uncle has learned a great many lessons."

"But evidently not the essential one. Ah, here he comes."

Will Reilly strolled up the street with that casual elegance that was so much a part of him. As he opened the door Val started to cry out, but a rough hand was placed across his mouth, stifling his shout.

Will stepped through the door and the two men on the street pivoted sharply about and stepped in after him, seizing both his arms from behind.

Will did not struggle, but merely glanced at the man at the table, who was obviously directing the operation. "Where is the Prince? I am sure he would want to witness this."

They were somewhat taken aback by his calmness, but Val was not. He had seen Will Reilly face such situations before, although not for the same reason.

No one else had appeared in the cafe, nor was there anyone on the street. They were taken outside to a carriage that appeared from nowhere driven by the man who had arrived first. Inside the carriage were four men, one of whom held a pistol. Will and Val were put in the carriage and the two men who had held Will got up behind the carriage and the leader mounted the box beside the driver.

Val sat very stiff beside Will, trying not to show his fear. Yet in spite of his fear he found himself a little contemptuous of these men. Obviously hired for the job, they were so inept that they had not even searched Will Reilly, and they were utterly unaware of the kind of man they dealt with.

How could they know? He seemed merely a handsome, well-set-up young man, well-dressed and poised. How could they know what lay behind him?

Their destination was only a short distance beyond the limits of the town. Val glanced out of the coach window and across the fields. Just over there, not half a mile away, was the deserted barn with their two horses. The coach came to a sudden halt beside a small grove, where two saddle horses were tied.

Val saw Will give them a quick glance, and knew what he was seeing. One of the horses was the one Louise rode. Was she to be here?

They walked through the trees to a small clearing, perhaps half an acre in extent. Across the clearing, in riding clothes, stood Louise and a tall young man. She wore a gray riding habit, and looked lovely, but her eyes were wide and frightened.

The young man wore a beautiful fur-trimmed coat, which he now removed and dropped over a rock.

Louise spoke, "Pavel ...please! "

"No, my cousin, we are going to teach this American some manners. I hope you will also profit by the lesson."

"Pavel--"

"Remove his coat, if you please," he said to the men holding Will. They stripped off his coat, and he made no resistance. The soft material of his white shirt was ruffled by the breeze. He was smiling.

Val, unnoticed by the others, had edged nearer.

"Now, peasant, you are going to get a whipping. The kind of whipping we reserve for such as you."

"This is rather absurd, don't you think?" Will asked. "If you wish to call the whole thing off, Prince Pavel, I will accept your apology."

"Myapology!" Pavel's features went taut with anger.

"I must have heard about you, Prince Pavel. I have heard you do not pay your gambling debts, and that you will marry your cousin to this wealthy man so he will pay them for you."

"Stand back," Pavel said to the others, "and give me the whip."

It was a long whip, not unlike the western black-snake or bull whip.

Val was amazed, not so much that they should plan to whip his uncle, but that they were so sure they could.

"Let me do it, sir." The man who stepped forward was a husky brute, and Val saw Will glance at him, marking him for future attention. "I have some skill at such things."

"Of course not," Pavel replied shortly. "I reserve the pleasure for myself." He coiled the whip, drawing the lash almost lovingly through his fingers.

During his early years Will Reilly had made a trip over the Santa Fe Trail, working as a teamster. He had used just such a whip, and he had seen and participated in the brutal whip battles fought by teamsters, who could flick a fly from the shoulder of a bull without touching the skin.

He knew the tactics well, and when Pavel swung the whip and shot the lash at him, Will stepped an easy pace forward, blocked the whip with his forearm, and the lash coiled about it. Instantly his hand dropped, grasped the whip, and gave a tremendous jerk.

Prince Pavel was jerked off balance, the whip flying from his hand as he went to his knees on the turf.