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

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Sudden--Strikes Back (A Sudden Western #1) Page 13

by Frederick H. Christian


  Newman surveyed the two guns strapped low on his guest’s hips.

  ‘I thought that,’ he murmured. ‘That’s what I figured. You’re getting the same price Black gets.’

  ‘Never imagined it would be anything else,’ Sudden said.

  ‘What I can’t understand is how you got the herd through the mountains in such prime condition,’ Newman posed.

  ‘She was a good deal easier than I’d hoped,’ Sudden admitted. ‘If yo’re interested, I’m guessin’ we could make a regular deal on this.’

  ‘Could you give me a keener price?’ Newman asked. ‘I’m always interested in cutting my overheads.’

  ‘In the Spring, shore,’ Sudden told him. ‘This ain’t the best time to be sellin’ beef.’

  ‘We’ll talk about it,’ Newman said. ‘If you can deliver in this condition and give me a good price, I’ll continue to buy your beef.’

  The two men shook hands on their bargain, and Newman counted out payment for the herd from a safe. Sudden was expressing his thanks when Dave returned to say that the crew was about to start back.

  ‘Yu serious about ridin’ back through Thunder Ravine?’ Dave asked, and when Sudden nodded, the cowboy cried, ‘Yo’re off yore rocker, ridin’ that road with all this dinero in yore pocket.’ He gestured at the stack of notes on the table.

  ‘I ain’t,’ grinned Sudden, and when Dave looked his puzzlement, explained, ‘Yo’re takin’ the money, my cliff-hangin’ friend. An’ yo’re goin’ back with the others. By the way, what time did Parr leave?’

  ‘How d’yu know that?’ Dave asked in surprise. ‘Well, never mind, yo’re right. He slid out about twenty minnits back. Said he warn’t hungry.’

  ‘I’ll bet,’ said Sudden, non-committally. ‘Here—take good care o’ this, it’s about ten years wages to ordinary folks like yu an’ me.’

  Dave looked at the thick roll of bills as if they might suddenly bite him, then stowed them hastily into a pocket.

  ‘Yo’re takin’ a long chance on me, come to that,’ he said soberly.

  ‘What—yu rob Her Majesty? That’ll be the day,’ the foreman told him. ‘Hit the trail, little man, an’ don’t stop to pick no daisies.’

  Newman smiled at the exchange between the two men. It was obvious that their respect for each other permitted such trading of insults, but he wondered idly how either would react if the same words were spoken to them by a stranger.

  ‘You mind telling me what that was all about?’ he asked Sudden.

  ‘Well, seh,’ the Slash 8 man replied, ‘them Shadow hombres have been havin’ all the fun up to now. They been callin’ all the tunes. I just figger it’s about time the Slash 8 joined the dance.’

  He shook hands again with the mine manager, and Newman watched the tall horseman’s broad back reflectively as Sudden rode down the hill and took the trail leading towards South Bend. He nodded to himself, as if confirming an opinion, and returned to his office looking like a man who had heard his first good news in months.

  Chapter Eleven

  Arriving in South Bend, Sudden pursued the impulse he had had on the trail to visit judge Pringle in order to give him a situation report. There were also several matters he wanted to discuss with the old lawyer. The judge received him in his ‘office’, a small, book-cluttered room on the shady side of the house, and his housekeeper bustled in with coffee. Sudden pronounced it to his liking, whereupon that worthy lady beamed her approval and, closing the door quietly, left the two men alone.

  ‘I am glad you decided to come and see me, Mr. Green,’ the Judge began. ‘You know, of course, that George Tate wrote to me about you?’

  Sudden nodded. ‘I figgered he might, seh. Did he tell yu the whole tale?’

  When Pringle indicated that Tate had kept the cowboy’s secret, Sudden smiled. ‘That’s about the way he was, seh. But I’d better tell yu anyway.’ And the old lawyer listened spellbound as the tall young visitor told him the story of how he had come to be known as ‘Sudden’, the outlaw.

  When he had finished, Sudden’s face was grim, but Pringle reassured him immediately. ‘I am glad you told me, Jim. It doesn’t alter anything, of course. I begin to realize what George meant when he wrote that I must judge you on your actions thus far, and nothing else. He also told me to be prepared for a surprise, and I am surprised. One does not expect a hunted outlaw to be backed by a character reference from the Governor of Arizona.’

  ‘I once did him a favor,’ was Green’s only comment, and the lawyer asked no more.

  ‘What worries me more,’ the lawyer said, ‘is Grace’s reaction to you. She seems to think that you are preventing her from doing what she wishes.’

  ‘She said she wants to sell to Barclay,’ Sudden told him.

  ‘That goes dead against Tate’s wishes.’

  ‘I know, my boy, she told me that herself. But there is something else. I wish I could put my finger on it. Something that has nothing to do with cattle rustling, or conflict over who owns which ranch?

  ‘I know what yu mean, seh,’ Green agreed. ‘Got the same sort

  o’ hunch myself.’

  ‘Is there anything that I can do?’ asked Pringle.

  ‘A couple o’ things, Judge. Yu got the time and the contacts; I don’t. First of all, do yu know what the Slash 8 mortgage is?’

  ‘I’m almost sure it’s fifteen hundred dollars. George wrote me about it. He was short of ready cash to make improvements so he negotiated the loan at Hanging Rock, using the ranch as security.’

  ‘Yu got a copy o’ the actual mortgage, Judge?’

  ‘No,’ replied the old man, ‘but I can easily get one. Do you want me to?’

  Sudden nodded, and to himself admired the lawyer’s lack of unnecessary questioning. He was obviously a powerful and worthwhile ally. They talked for a while longer, and the judge promised to look into several matters for which Green could simply not spare the time. As he said, ‘Nobody’s goin’ to wonder about a lawyer nosin’ around, but if anyone sees me, it’ll give the game away, an’ I ain’t ready yet.’

  ‘Rely on me,’ Pringle told the Slash 8 man. ‘I’ll do everything I can.’ The two men shook hands and parted, and Green mounted up and rode down the broad, busy street of South Bend, through the town, and out on to the deserted trail towards Thunder Ravine. The afternoon was already gone, and lights were beginning to twinkle in the windows of houses up on the hill. Sudden’s mind was busy, for forming in his mind were the glimmerings of a pattern of evil so fantastic that he could not properly bring himself to believe it. But if he were right, there was going to be an explosive show-down in the not too distant future. ‘An’ the sooner the better,’ he told himself.

  He was not hurrying; he did not want to reach the gloomy

  Thunder Ravine before full darkness fell, and so he allowed Midnight to pick his own way and his own speed. Dark indeed it was inside the inky confines of the ravine. To his left he could hear the hiss and tumble of the Sweetwater as it rushed across the canyon’s jagged floor. Midnight stepped daintily along the narrow trail, the sound of his hoofs echoing from the dripping canyon walls. Without warning, a voice broke into Sudden’s apparent reverie, and he looked up to see two shadowy figures blocking the trail ahead of him.

  ‘Stick ’em up, pronto!’ came the barked order.

  The Slash 8 man could just about discern in the darkness the shapes of the two men, their faces concealed behind bandannas, pistols in their hands with the muzzles unwaveringly trained upon him. Sudden raised his hands and, at another command, kicked his feet free from the stirrups and slid down to the ground. The two men stepped apart, covering him from both sides; their figures became more distinct as they came closer.

  ‘All right, Green, hand it over!’

  ‘Hand what over?’ asked Sudden innocently.

  ‘Don’t play dumb,’ snapped the masked man on the right who was doing all the talking. ‘Hand over the dough yu got for sellin’ yore herd!’

  Sudde
n laughed aloud, a sound which caused the two hold-up men to flinch slightly, and eye their prisoner warily. ‘I ain’t got the money,’ Sudden told his inquisitor. ‘I sent it back with one o’ the men.’

  ‘A likely yam,’ snapped Talker. ‘Frisk him, Ray!’

  The man on the left gritted an oath at his companion. ‘Ain’t yu got more sense?’ he snarled. .

  ‘Get on with it,’ ordered Talker. ‘What diff’rence does it make, anyway?

  ‘None at all,’ agreed Sudden. ‘Pleased to meetcha again, Ray. How’s yore head?’

  The man Ray did not answer, but with a muttered imprecation, sheathed his gun and made a rapid, but thorough search of the prisoner. Finding nothing, he went quickly over the horse: saddle bags, poncho, everywhere money might have been hidden. There was nothing and he told his companion so.

  ‘I done told yu that already,’ Sudden said reasonably. ‘I guess yu just been told so many lies in yore life yu wouldn’t know the truth if it walked up an’ kicked yu.’

  Ray growled beneath his mask, and with an angry gesture turned and thrust his revolver into Sudden’s face.

  ‘Shut yore yap!’ he threatened. ‘I owe yu already—it won’t take much to talk me into blowin’ out yore light!’

  His movement was a mistake. With a lightning move, Sudden flung his left arm forward and across, knocking Ray’s gun muzzle wide of his body. At the same moment, his right hand came up in a short, jolting arc that caught the bandit Hush on the jaw. Under the weight of this wicked punch the recipient was hurled backwards, blundering into his companion, whose hastily fired shot at the Slash 8 man went wide and whined off the canyon wall. Sudden’s hand flashed towards his own guns and he drove a bullet into the dark mass of the outlaw’s body before the man could pull the trigger again. The man folded down into the darkness of the canyon floor as Sudden turned, and leaping towards Midnight, was into the saddle and pounding away to safety before the reeling Ray could realize what had happened.

  Sudden pushed his horse hard from then on, and reached the ranch without further incident. Dave met him at the corral where he had been waiting anxiously for his friend’s return.

  ‘I figgered somethin’ o’ the sort was likely,’ Sudden told him after describing the events in the canyon. ‘I was pretty shore that word would have been passed to the Shadows that we was makin’ our drive. I imagine they holed up for us at Thunder Ravine: they musta got a nasty shock when we didn’t turn up.’

  ‘Yeah, but how did they know yu’d be comin’ back that way?’ Larry put in, puzzled.

  ‘I told them,’ Sudden smiled. Dave’s blank expression made him laugh, and he explained. ‘Remember I told yu to spread the word among the boys about me comin’ back that way?’

  ‘Yu mean—one of us passed the word to the Shadows?’

  ‘That I do,’ said Sudden, his tone turned grim. ‘Let’s go talk to him.’

  With these words, the foreman headed with long strides towards the bunkhouse, where lights in the windows indicated that the Slash 8 crew was not yet abed. There was a chorus of greeting as Sudden entered the long room, but it died quickly as those present saw the expression on their foreman’s face. Sudden wasted no time; he confronted Parr, whose shifty eyes failed to meet the icy gaze boring into him.

  ‘What become o’ yu at the mine, Parr?’ asked Sudden softly.

  ‘I left early,’ was the sullen reply. ‘Figgered my hoss might go lame again—which it did. The boys got home afore me, in the end.’

  ‘Not surprisin’,’ was the cold comment. ‘Yu took the long way home.’ Green looked at Parr levelly. ‘I told yu on the drive yu was through, an’ that goes. Now I’m tossin’ in somethin’ extra. Get off the Slash 8 an’ don’t come back.’

  ‘Yu’ll regret this, Green,’ Spat Parr, meeting Sudden’s gaze defiantly.

  ‘I doubt it,’ was the reply. ‘I ain’t never regretted riddin’ myself o’ liars an’ cowards,’ and then, as Parr made an abortive move towards his gun, he snapped ‘Don’t go near that unless yu want to stay here—permanent.’

  For a few seconds, the two men faced each other; there was an astonished silence in the bunkhouse as the rest of the crew watched the half-crouched figures in the center of the room.

  Then Parr’s gaze flickered away from the foreman’s. Green had tested him and found him wanting.

  ‘Like I said—yeller,’ sneered Sudden, half turning as if to walk away.

  ‘Damn yu, Green!’ screeched Parr, ‘I’ll—’

  He did not finish the threat, if such it was to have been.

  Before his clutching hand could curl around the butt of his six-gun, Sudden had whirled like a panther. His left hand clamped upon the other’s right wrist like a band of steel, while his right seized Parr’s throat. He shook the man the way a terrier shakes a rat, back and forth, sinking his steely grip deeper into Parr’s neck. The other, his face purpling, eyes bulging as Sudden’s grip cut off his wind, was near suffocation when, with a contemptuous thrust, the foreman Hung Parr headlong upon the floor. The cowboy lay there, wheezing and gasping, his tortured lungs laboring for oxygen. It was some moments before he could stagger to his feet, by which time Green had counted out some money from the roll which Dave had handed to him in the corral. He tossed the money at Parr’s feet.

  ‘There’s a month’s pay,’ he snapped, ‘which is forty dollars more’n yo’re worth. Get yore gear an’ punch the breeze.’

  With an evil look, Parr collected his scant belongings and slouched out, with Sudden behind him, ready for any further show of resistance. But the man was beaten; he saddled his horse and disappeared into the darkness without another word.

  Back in the bunkhouse the crew were discussing the fracas. Dave had told them quickly of how their foreman had trapped the spy in their midst.

  ‘Holy cow!’ breathed Dobbs. ‘I couldn’t believe I was seein’ it. That Green was actually grinnin’ while he was chokin’ Curt?’

  ‘Grinnin’?’ retorted Shorty. ‘I’m bettin’ Parr didn’t find ·it so funny. Green looked like he was about to pull out Curt’s windpipe an’ make him eat it!’

  ‘I reckon hangin’ won’t be nothin’ new to Parr after that, hazarded Gimpy. ‘The more I see o’ that feller Green, the gladder I am he’s on our side.’

  ‘Amen to that,’ echoed Shorty, as they put out the lights and turned in

  Chapter Twelve

  THE next morning, Sudden announced to the Slash 8 crew that he was planning on doing what he called ‘a little pokin’ around’, and without further elaboration he saddled his black horse, packed a bedroll and some food, filled a canteen of water, and set out alone towards the river trail. He had not gone very far, however, when the thunder of hoofs behind him caused him to pull Midnight to a stop and await the arrival of a defiant-looking Dave who pulled alongside him and, with a grin, pointed out that he was coming along.

  ‘Shucks, no tellin' what might happen to yu alone,’ he told his foreman. ‘I figgered yu’d need a wet-nurse, au’ I done elected myself.’

  Sudden argued with his young friend for a few moments, but truth to tell, found himself not sorry to have company. He explained his feelings to Dave as they rode together along the banks of the Sweetwater.

  ‘I got to thinkin’ about them Shadow hombres,’ he explained. ‘All this time everyone’s been figgerin’ they was a big outfit.’ :

  ‘So?’ queried Dave.

  ‘So use yore noddle and think some,’ retorted Sudden. ‘So far as I know, nobody’s ever seen more’n four of ’em together in one place at one time.’

  ‘That’s true,’ admitted the younger man, ‘but it don’t prove nothin’.’

  ‘I know,’ said his companion. ‘I’m just playin’ a hunch.’

  ‘Yu figger they could run that kind o’ sandy on the whole valley, Jim?’

  ‘Could be,’ was the non-committal reply. ‘If we don’t find nothin’, we shore ain’t lost anythin’ by lookin’.’

  Dave nodded hi
s agreement and the two men pushed on along the river. It was a bright sunny morning, and skylarks warbled brightly from the grama grass which grew lushly on the floor of the valley. In the far distance, the rolling peaks of Thunder Mesa thrust blue into the sky, and, here and there, small bunches of Slash 8 cattle grazed peacefully. In due course the two men reached the point on the river where the burbling little stream, which Dave had once told Sudden was called the Bonito, joined the larger river. Just above this confluence was a well-marked ford across the river, and the two men splashed across it and up the far bank. Here, a roughly painted notice board met their gaze.

  BOX B LAND

  STAY OFF

  THIS MEANS YOU.

  ‘Friendly cusses, ain’t they?’ remarked Sudden.

  ‘Very. An’ they mean it. Couple o’ hombres that thought they didn’t wound up pickin’ lead out o’ their anatomies.’

  ‘Don’t yu fret, little man—we ain’t pickin’ no Box B daisies. Our trail lies over yonder.’ He gestured towards the left, where a shifting shimmer of bright heat played across the horizon.

  ‘The Badlands!’ Dave exclaimed. ‘Yu aimin’ to go in there?’

  ‘Shore as yo’re slow on the uptake,’ grinned Sudden. ‘Of course, if she sounds too much like hard work, yu can allus roll yore tail back home.’

  Dave shook his head grimly. ‘Nope. I reckon if yo’re fool enough to ride in there, the least I can do is come with yu to make shore yu don’t break yore toe or somethin’.’

  ‘Right friendly o’ yu,’ grinned Sudden. ‘If I feel faint, I’ll holler.’

  The two riders moved on, skirting the trail which would have led them down to the Barclay place, and in a short while were in the barren sandy wastes of the Badlands. Here, Nature changed her face, and it did not seem possible that this savage landscape could exist so close to the pleasant rolling range that they had so recently crossed. The sun hit the two men like a blow, and bounced off the sparkling desert floor with the tangible heat of an oven. Dave, glancing at his companion, saw that the foreman’s face was set in concentration, his eyes bent downwards in an intense survey of the faint traces of a trail beneath the feet of the horses.

 

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