Sudden--Strikes Back (A Sudden Western #1)

by Frederick H. Christian

  ‘Aw—go climb a mesa!’ Dave growled, and stamped off about his business.

  Chapter Ten

  From where she sat on the verandah, Grace Tate could see her foreman working by the corral. It was much later, after Barclay had gone, that she realized he was never far away the whole time Barclay was on the ranch. Unobtrusive, out of earshot; but always near. She had divined immediately upon seeing Barclay that he had not been welcomed by Green and David. Barclay, sitting opposite her, sipping a long cold drink which had been served by a scowling Cookie, noticed the frown that crossed Grace’s face as the thought struck her, and divining the reason for it, Barclay smiled winningly.

  ‘Yore foreman don’t appear to like me,’ he told her. ‘Well, he has a lesson comin’ to him. When I buy the Slash 8, he’ll soon learn who’s the boss. Meanwhile, don’t yu bother yore pretty head about him.’

  Grace smiled automatically at the big man’s unctuous flattery, and taking this as encouragement, Barclay went on, ‘This shore is my lucky day. Not only do I have the pleasure o’ seein’ yu again, but I think I may be able to help yu, too.’

  ‘Help me?’ asked Grace, in surprise. ‘In what way, Mr. Barclay?’

  ‘I’d like yu to call me Zack,’ he said warmly. ‘Well, this conspiracy . . .’

  Grace Tate’s head came up, and a startled expression crossed her face. ‘Conspiracy?’ she echoed. ‘Do you think . . .’

  ‘Well, maybe conspiracy is a mite strong.’ said Barclay hastily, ‘but listen to this: I gave a lot o’ thought to what’s been happenin’ in these parts, an’ it struck me that Green could be spearheadin’ some kind o’ conspiracy to get yore ranch. He rode in here mighty convenient, yu recall?’

  Grace nodded, and Barclay went on. ‘Only a few hours after his arrival, yore old man—yore father—makes a deal with him about runnin’ the ranch. He wanted it to be kept in a kind o’ trust for yu, which is a fine thought for a father to have, on’y he didn’t reckon on such a cunnin’ joker as this Green in the pack. Green suggests that, as yo’re under age, he’d better have full control. He’s just saved yore Pa’s life, so naturally, bein’ grateful, Tate agrees. In fact, he’s bein’ hornswoggled. Green arranged this so-called “attack” on the ranch—which no one else except Cookie seen, remember, an’ he was tied up—an’ then rescues yore Pa. Yore Pa agrees to give Green control, and sends word to Pringle according. Next thing, yore Pa is murdered—an’ again our friend Green is Johnny-on-the-spot with no witnesses. An’ he has control o’ one o’ the finest ranches in the Territory. By the time yu come of age, he can milk it dry.’

  There was something wickedly logical in the rancher’s theory, and despite herself, Grace found the argument swaying her.

  ‘But what about Judge Pringle?’ she asked.

  ‘Bah!’ snapped Barclay. ‘He wouldn’t be the first crooked lawyer I’ve heard of. For all we know, him an’ Green are in cahoots.’

  Grace shook her head. ‘It just doesn’t seem possible,’ she said faintly. ‘Judge Pringle told me Green had the highest references—he had checked up on him.’

  ‘Naturally, he’d say that if they was in cahoots,’ Barclay said.

  ‘Did he show yu any o’ these references?

  Grace had to admit that he had not.

  ‘There, what’d I tell yu,’ Barclay argued. He paused for a moment to let that sink in, and the continued, ‘But there’s one twist o’ the rope our clever friend ain’t reckoned on.’ Grace looked her question and he said, ‘Yes, another way to spoil his game. Look, girl, from the moment I first saw yu I’ve wanted yu. I’m a rich man, an’ goin’ to be richer. With yore ranch an’ mine combined, we could make an empire outa this valley. There’d be an end to all this trouble. I’m figgerin’ that with his pitch queered, we’d hear no more from Mr. Green-or from these mysterious Shadow friends o’ his. Yu’d be a queen, girl, an’ yu could have anythin’ yu wanted. An’ if yu say yes,’ he played his trump card, ‘yu shore won’t be takin’ orders from no crooked saddle tramp. All I have will be yores. What do yu say?’

  His hot eyes devoured her greedily, noting the delicate color under the faint tan on her cheeks, the curling tendrils of hair low on her neck, the long, silken eyelashes. By God, she was a beauty! Apart from giving him the weapon to destroy the banker, she had a proudness which he would enjoy mastering.

  Grace sat for a moment gazing at Barclay in astonishment, although not a little impressed by his eloquence and his ardor.

  ‘Yu don’t have to answer now, girl,’ Barclay breathed. ‘Just say yu’ll think on it. But remember—I’m not a man for waitin’. I want us to be married right away, as soon as yu’ve decided.’ :

  She nodded, as powerless under his gaze as a sparrow hypnotized by a snake. The clasp of his hand as he rose to leave made her blood burn, but she was thankful that when he spoke it was of something else.

  ‘Don’t yu worry none,’ he told her. ‘I aim to show Mr. Green up in his true colors. Remember —the only way to foil him is to marry me.’

  Without another word he turned, and mounting his horse, rode out of the environs of the ranch, leaving behind him a young woman puzzled, confused, upset, and strangely impressed—as he had intended that she should be. She had not asked what he intended to do; but suspected in some way that he would prevent Green from achieving his aim to swindle her. The resentment which she had felt mildly for the laconic Green was now fanned to a fierce flame by the insinuations Barclay had made. These blinded her to the fact that by opposing Green she would also be working against her own interests. Barclay’s specious story had planted a seed of doubt in her mind, and although as yet she could not believe such perfidy was possible, she was ready at least to be convinced by any small thing that Green was indeed the blackguard that Barclay had painted him.

  It was in this frame of mind that Grace Tate heard from her foreman later in the day that he intended to drive the herd to South Bend for sale the following day.

  ‘The boys are just finishin’ roundin’ ’em up now,’ Sudden told her. ‘I figger to get an early start tomorrow. Looks like bein' a fine day.’

  ‘When do you expect to be back?’ she asked.

  ‘Thursday, all bein’ well,’ he said. ‘Oughta be a two day drive, but it won’t take all day to get back here.’

  ‘You will bring the money here?’

  ‘Why naturally, ma’am,’ said Sudden, surprised by the vehemence of the question. ‘I figgered yu’d want to go into town an’ see the Bank about payin’ off yore mortgage. I’ll come in with yu, o’ course.’

  ‘Of course,’ Grace said coldly. ‘What is the amount of the mortgage?’

  ‘Fifteen hundred dollars, yore Pa told me,’ Green informed her. ‘O’ course, there’ll probably be some interest charges. I’m hopin’ we’ll have enough over from the sale o’ the herd to pay wages an’ buy some feed.’

  Grace nodded coolly, and turned on her heel to go into the house. Sudden pushed his sombrero back on his head and rubbed his chin reflectively.

  ‘I’m guessin’ friend Barclay’s filled her pretty li’l ear with ideas that I’m about to head for tall timber with the money,’ he ruminated. ‘I shore ain’t gettin’ nowhere in Her Majesty’s good books. It’s a wonder she ain’t set the Pinkertons on to me.’

  That night, over supper, Green outlined his plans for the drive to the assembled men.

  ‘We leave at first light,’ he said. ‘Gimpy, I want yu on the point.’ The grizzled old cowboy nodded, and Dobbs grinned,

  ‘Trust Gimp to get the easy chore,’ he said. ‘Still, age afore beauty.’

  ‘Don’t yu believe that,’ Green told him. ‘Gimpy’s got the toughest spot out of all o’ yu. Which is why I’m puttin’ him there. We’re drivin’ across the mountains to South Bend.’

  This announcement was greeted with mingled astonishment and disbelief by the Slash 8 riders, and Sudden did not fail to notice that Curt Parr looked particularly crestfallen at this revelation.


  ‘Jim, yu can’t be serious,’ Dave interjected. ‘There ain’t no way o’ takin’ cattle across Thunder Mesa. We’d lose more’n we could afford?

  ‘Unless yo’re aimin’ to pin wings on them dogies,’ Shorty offered, ‘an’ us as well!’

  ‘Wings is about the last things yo’re ever liable to be seen wearin’,’ snapped Dobbs. Then, more seriously, ‘But he’s right, Jim .’

  There was a chorus of agreement, and Curt Parr asked, ‘What’s wrong with takin’ the herd through Thunder Ravine? It ain’t easy, o’ course, but with care we could get a small herd through an’ not too much trouble.’

  ‘Yeah, two at a time an’ lose twenty-four hours doin’ it,’ replied Sudden, ‘not to mention bein’ sittin’ ducks for any Shadows who might happen along.’

  ‘Yu expectin’ trouble, then, Jim?’ Dave asked eagerly. :

  ‘My way, no,’ Sudden replied. Drawing a piece of paper from his pocket, he demonstrated the route he had planned. ‘She cuts due south o’ the ranch up to that mesa yu showed me, Dave, the one yu took the short cut down from.’ Dave grinned sheepishly at this remark, which caused the others to guffaw mercilessly. The adventure on the mesa was now common knowledge among the Slash 8 riders. ‘I rode back there when yu an’ Miss Tate was over at South Bend,’ Sudden explained. ‘There’s a trail that goes up through the mountains, an’ a pass leadin’ down to the far side. She’s not easy—but she’s level enough for cattle?

  ‘Yu mean the ol’ mine road?’ Gimpy asked incredulously.

  ‘Hell, Jim, that’s been closed years—there was too much danger from fallin’ rocks an’ avalanches. All that blastin’ years ago loosened the ravine walls when they was huntin’ silver up there.’

  ‘Well, I never said it was easy,’ Green grinned. ‘I just said it was feasible. An’ I got my reasons,’ he added menacingly.

  ‘How many of us are goin’?’ Curt Parr wanted to know.

  ‘Yu, me, Dave, Gimpy, an’ Shorty,’ replied the foreman.

  ‘Dobbs, I want yu to stay behind with Cookie at the ranch to keep an eye on things. I don’t want Miss Tate alone here. Sabe?’

  Dobbs nodded his understanding, and a reminder that an early start had to be made in the morning ended the discussion and sent the riders back to the bunkhouse hotly debating Sudden’s announcement.

  Soon after daybreak the drive started. Sudden had already given the men instructions that the cattle were to make their own speed, and Old Mossy, the herd leader, set out at a swinging gait along the trail leading south towards the mountains. Green wanted the herd in good condition for the difficult part of the drive which faced them in the twisting canyons higher up, for he knew that although the route was feasible, there were many dangers on an unknown trail. Nevertheless they made good time; mile after uneventful mile dropped behind them without incident, and they were soon skirting the foot of the mesa.

  A few miles from the opening of the canyon, Gimpy came spurring back from the point. Sudden called a halt for a meal and they broke out the cold food the cook had prepared for them. The cattle milled contentedly, not eager to face the slow uphill climb ahead of them.

  ‘She shore looks unfriendly,’ was Gimpy’s economic report about the trail ahead. ‘Them overhangs look like a good sneeze might drop ’em right on yore head. But like yu said, Jim—she’s feasible.’

  With this cheering news, they finished their meal and the herd was set in motion once again. Gimpy’s report proved accurate. Above their heads buttresses of shattered rock, deformed by old explosions set off by silver miners in days long gone, leaned crazily towards them. Once, the thunder of the herd sent a long, slow hissing shower of rock and shale sliding down a slope to end in a smothered crash and a high hanging cloud of dust. The Slash8 crew had their work cut out to merely hold the herd together as they plunged through dense undergrowth at the base of the cliffs. Thickets of young trees, rocky ridges faced them. Once, they had to shepherd the herd across a narrow, rushing mountain stream. The cowboys rode with one eye on the herd and the other cocked at the threatening rocks above their heads.

  ‘Them rocks shore make me nervous,’ Shorty confided to Dave. ‘I keep seein’ myself trying to dig out from under about a thousand tons o’ rock.’

  ‘Touch some wood—yore head’ll do,’ Dave told him. ‘An’ keep yore imaginin’s to yoreself. I don’t know about the cows, but I’m damn near to stampedin’ my ownself, an’ that’s what-ever!’

  Sudden, riding at the rear of the herd—‘eatin’ dust’ as they called it—was beginning to think they would negotiate the uphill part of the canyon without incident when, without warning, two pistol shots rang out. He raced forward to find Curt Parr staring stupidly at the smoking six-gun in his hand.

  ‘What the hell are yu tryin’ to do, Parr?’ Sudden snapped angrily. ‘Bring the whole mountain down on us?’

  ‘I’m plumb sorry, Green,’ Parr said earnestly. ‘Gun warn’t ridin’ easy in the holster, an’ I pulled her out. Next thing I know, she went off. I can’t Egger how it happened.’

  ‘Put yore gun in yore saddlebag,’ Green told him evenly, ‘an take care it don’t happen again, or yu’ll wish a mountain had fell on yu!’

  The foxy cowboy’s explanation did not begin to satisfy him, but he had to be content with it. Had Parr some reason for wanting to bring disaster upon the Slash 8 herd? ‘More’n likely,’ Sudden told himself, and gave the word to push the herd along. He rode within watching distance of Parr, and sure enough, before too long, saw the cowboy dismount. He rode up to where Parr was examining his horse’s hoof. ·

  ‘Hoss has gone lame; yu’d better push on without me,’ Parr told him. ‘I’ll catch yu up.’

  ‘Mount up, an’ let’s see,’ was Sudden’s reply.’

  ‘What’s the matter, don’t yu believe me?’ Parr asked in an aggrieved tone.

  ‘Mount up!’ Sudden repeated, ‘an’ this time keep yore hoss away from these flints.’ He pointed to the sharp stones littering the ground.

  ‘Are yu hintin’ . . .?’

  ‘Hintin’ nothin’!’ snapped Sudden. ‘I’m callin’ the facts. When we get back yu can pick up yore time, but right now I need every man I’ve got, so stay with the herd—an’ don’t give me any more trouble.’

  These last words were spoken slowly and deliberately, and Parr’s shifty eyes wavered and dropped before the piercing gaze of the Slash 8 ramrod.

  Presently, the rocky canyon widened, and they were at the pass summit. Before them, the slope stretched gradually downwards through the pine-dotted hills on the south side of the mesa. A natural arena of rock-crowned hills about a quarter of a mile further on made an ideal place for them to bed down the herd for the night, and the Slash 8 men dropped into their blankets, after eating, like dead men.

  The next morning they resumed the drive. Spirits were high as they pushed the herd on down the easy, sloping trail. Up ahead, Sudden could hear Gimpy bawling out an unmelodious and bawdy trail song. Apart from one sour look, Parr had had nothing to say to him or anyone else, and they moved forward now without any incident. The frowning canyon was behind them; soon they reached the wide, wagon wheel-scarred trail leading to South Bend and to the Thunder Mesa mines.

  Leaving Gimpy in charge, with an injunction to keep his eye on Parr, Sudden rode on ahead of the oncoming herd. He found Pat Newman in a small, but neat office near the mine shaft on the hillside. Newman’s eyes widened when-he saw his visitor.

  ‘Come to tell me the deal’s off?’ he asked Sudden.

  ‘Nope. Come to tell yu to look out o’ the window,’ was the Smiling reply. Newman crossed quickly to the window which looked out along the trail; not far away he could see the dusty cloud raised by the Slash 8 herd. He turned to Sudden with his hand outstretched.

  ‘Yu win your bet,’ he said. ‘Let’s go and watch them being loaded into the pens.’

  The two men walked out to the corrals set alongside the barrack-like buildings where the ore was washed, and Sudden
told the mine manager about his choice of route. Newman spoke to one of his foremen, and they watched while the herd was corralled and counted. When the hot dusty work was finished, Newman invited Sudden back to his office, having detailed a couple of miners to see that the Slash 8 crew was fed and given something to drink. Before they trooped off, Sudden drew Dave Haynes to one side.

  ‘When yo’re through eatin’, come an’ see me. Tell the others to head back for the Slash 8 when they’re through eatin’, an’ spread the word I’m goin' back through Thunder Ravine.’

  Dave’s expression betrayed his burning curiosity at these orders, but Sudden gave him no time to frame a question. The Slash 8 foreman turned on his heel and joined Newman in the office, where the two men were brought a good meal by a resident mine cook.

  ‘Yu shore do yoreselves proud up here,’ Sudden remarked.

  ‘That’s near as good cookin’ as we get on the Slash 8.’

  ‘If yu get better food than this, I’m anglin’ for an invitation right now,’ smiled Newman.

  ‘Yu got it,’ Sudden told him.

  The dishes were pushed to one side, and the two men settled down to business. Newman totaled some figures on a sheet of paper and showed the final amount to his guest.

  ‘You agree the figure, Mr. Green?

  ‘Looks line to me, seh,’ Sudden told him. ‘Five hundred head at five dollars a head: that’s twenty-five hundred dollars.’

  ‘You don’t seem interested in whether I’m cheating you,’

  Newman pointed out. ‘You haven’t asked me what I was paying Marty Black.’

  ‘Shucks,’ smiled Sudden. ‘If yu was cheatin’ me, I’d find out. An’ I’d probably get a little impatient with yu.’