"That makes all the difference. Go ahead."
"The cash will be on the ten-fifteen from Washout tomorrow mornin', consigned to the bank at the Bend. It will be a small train, just the engine, one coach, an' a baggage-car, containing the coin."
"Coin? You mean bills, with the numbers known," Garstone commented. "Too dangerous."
"Part of it'll be paper, but by an--oversight--the list o' numbers will be missin'--at the other end; that'll cost us a thousand. The rest will be in gold. There'll on'y be the engine-driver, his mate, one conductor, and the baggage-man to deal with. Three of us oughta be able to handle it."
"Three? Who's the other?"
"Flint. He gits a thousand too--that's arranged."
"So we lose two thousand?"
"What did you expect, money for nothin'?" Bundy asked, his voice pregnant with contempt.
"Oh, all right. What's your plan?"
"Ten mile short o' the Bend the line runs through a thick patch o' brush an' pine. One o' the trees dropped across the metals will stop the train. You cover the driver while Flint an' me take up the collection--we'll have to skin the passengers too an' make it look like a reg'lar hold-up. O' course, we cut the wires first."
"My size is rather outstanding," Garstone objected.
"We'll all be masked, an' dressed in range-rig, nobody'd reckernize you. I'll borrow Jupp's duds--he's about yore build --an' havin' strained a leg at the dance"--this with a wink--"he ain't usin' 'em."
"Well, it certainly sounds feasible," Garstone admitted. "Feasible?" the foreman echoed ironically. "Why, it's cash for just stoopin' down."
"Not much of a stoop for you, perhaps, but it's a hell of a one for me, Chesney Garstone," was the reply. "However, the opportunity is there, and must be taken advantage of. By the way, what did Zeb expect to find at the Circle Dot?"
"I dunno--paper o' some sort, but they failed, so Flint couldn't tell me anythin'. Trenton's got some scheme for raisin' the wind, but he's pretty tight-mouthed 'bout it."
"We'll help him," Garstone smiled. "The more money he has, the higher price he can pay for the Circle Dot. How did you get on to this, Bundy?"
"I ain't sayin'," the foreman replied. "You can take it the facts is correct; that's all as matters."
They moved away, and it was not until--peering between carefully-parted branches--he saw them vanish among the buildings, did the boy dare to move his stiffened limbs. Dropping to the ground, and bent double, he scurried from cover to cover, and, after what seemed to him an age, reached his pony.
"Us fer home, Shut-eye," he gasped, as he scrambled into the saddle. "An' we ain't losin' no time neither, git me?"
Following Sudden's instructions, he had taken note of landmarks likely to assist him in finding his way back, and presently came almost in sight of the ford over the Rainbow. Here he received a fright--a horse was splashing its way through the water. He was heading for the nearest shelter when a soft voice called, and he saw that the rider was Miss Trenton.
"Why, Yorky," she smiled, as she cantered up. "Were you running away from me?"
"I hadn't seen yer--on'y heard th' hoss," he explained. "It mighter bin--anyone."
"But surely none of our riders would harm you?" she said. "I b'long to th' Circle Dot outfit--that'd be enough."
She shook her head, unconvinced. "Have you been to visit me?" she enquired.
Yorky's thin cheeks reddened. "Naw, I jus' wanted ter see yer home."
"And what do you think of it?"
"Betche'd be happier at the Circle Dot," was the unexpected answer.
It was now her turn to colour up, though afterwards she could not imagine any reason for so doing. There was a trace of reproof in her reply. "Thank you, but I am quite comfortable."
Yorky was not slow-witted; he saw that he had displeased her. "I warn't meanin' ter be rude," he apologized, and looked so downcast that she had to smile again.
"And I wasn't meaning to be cross," she said. "So we'll both forget it. Why did you leave the dance so early; weren't you having a good time?"
"The best ever, an' that goes for all of us." He was itching to get away; the trip had taken much longer than he hadthought, and the sooner his news was told, the better. He did not realize the full import of what he had learned, but it was plain that a train was to be robbed and the plunder used to obtain the Circle Dot, though how that was to be done without the present owner's consent was beyond his comprehension.
"Including Mister Dover?" she asked.
"I didn't hear no complaints."
"I think he might have let the men stay a little longer," she persisted.
"Dan's young, but he knows his job," Yorky said loyally--even this lovely girl must not find fault with his boss. He fidgeted in his saddle. "Guess I oughter be goin'; I bin out all day, an' th' boys'll be worryin' ;.I ain't wise ter th' country-- yet."
"Running away from me again?" she teased. "Well, so long, Yorky, it is my turn to visit you now, and perhaps I will."
He snatched off his hat as she moved on, and it might have pleased her to know that it was probably the first time he had paid this tribute to a woman.
Splashing through the ford, he thumped his unspurred heels against Shut-eye's well-padded ribs in an effort to extract a little more speed from that lethargic but easy-going quadruped.
"Yer got four legs, pal--I've counted 'em--use every damn one," he urged. "If we'd met up with a Wagon-wheeler 'stead o' her ..."
He reached the ranch without further interruption, and was unsaddling at the corral when Tiny and Blister rode up.
" 'Lo, kid, Noo York glad to see you?" the former asked.
"I didn't git as fur, but Rainbow is warmin' up fer th' weddin'."
The big man swallowed the bait. "What weddin'?"
"Yourn an' th' school-marm's," Yorky cackled, and dodging Tiny's grab, made for the ranch-house. Blister's bellow of laughter followed him.
He entered by the back door, and the cook--noting the flushed, excited face--was moved to comment. "Phwat hey ye been up to, ye young divil, an' how much grub has passed yer lips the day?"
"Oh, hell, Paddy. Where's Jim?"
"In th' front room with Dan an'--Saints, he's gone."
The impetuosity which took him from the kitchen caused him to burst unceremoniously upon the three men. They stared at him in silence for a moment, and then the rancher said quietly:
"I didn't hear you knock, Yorky."
"I'm sorry, Boss, but 1 got noos, an' it won't keep."
"Take a seat an' tell us," Dan replied.
It came out with a rush. Ten minutes later they had heard the story of his adventure, minus the meeting with Miss Trenton, and were regarding the narrator with stunned astonishment. Sudden read the minds of his companions.
"Is this the truth, Yorky, or one o' those fine tales yu sometimes invent to amuse the boys?" he wanted to know.
"Cross me heart, it's true, Jim," came the instant reply.
"An' there is a ten-fifteen--I've travelled by it a good few times--a little train, made up like he said," Dan stated.
"Well, it shore beats the band," Burke said. "Garstone an' Bundy double-crossin' Trenton; that's a laugh I'll enjoy."
"I guess not, Bill," Dan said. "We've gotta stop it. With that cash they can make a deal with Maitland, an' we're ditched. They wouldn't buy till the hold-up was stale news, or Garstone would claim to have raised funds East. Oh, it's smart, an' I never suspected Bundy o' brains."
"There's more to him than folks aroun' here savvy," the foreman replied. "Have you noticed that he never wears a glove on his right hand?"
"Gunman, huh?" Sudden said. "An' advertises it. Shucks!"
Dover, remembering the shooting in Sandy Bend, understood the puncher's disdain, and smiled, but his face was soon sober again.
"Question is, what are we to do?" he asked. "If we tell the sheriff, he'll just laugh at us, an' that's all; so would Trenton. We don't know who is sendin' the money so a warnin' ain't possible
neither."
"Take some o' the boys an' catch 'em in the act," Burke suggested.
"One of 'em might get away with the booty, an' Foxy would turn 'em loose anyway. What's the joke, Jim?"
For Sudden's eyes were twinkling like those of a, mischievous boy. "Just an idea," he said, and went on to tell them what it was; in a few moments they were laughing too. "Gee! it'd be a great play to make," Dan chuckled. "But could we pull it off?"
"I'm sayin' we can," Sudden replied confidently. "Why not have a shot at it--just the three of us."
"Say, ain't I in on this, Jim?" Yorky ventured to ask. "I could hold th' hosses."
Sudden's shake of the head was definite. "No, yu've done yore share, an' we're all mighty obliged, but there'll be a lot o' hard an' fast ridin' to-morrow mornin'. Time'll come when yu can keep up with the best of us; just now, patience is yore strong suit. An' mind, not a word."
"I get yer, Jim," the boy replied. "I'm a clam."
Chapter X
Early next morning the three conspirators devoured a substantial breakfast, saddled their mounts and, in the grey light of the dawn, disappeared in the direction of Sandy Bend. They did not follow the regular trail, having no desire to be observed, or to visit the town itself. This meant a loss of time and speed, but was necessary, since to run into the Wagon-wheel men would be fatal to the success of their plan.
Leaving the Circle Dot range at the eastern limit, they plunged into an almost trackless waste of broken country, the natural difficulties of which made anything in the nature of a direct course impossible, but all three were expert in the art of breaking a trail, and having started in good time there was no need to force the pace.
The foreman led the way, and though they were often driven wide of their line, his sense of direction brought them back to it. Nature was awake, birds whistled and called, and in the undergrowth they could hear the stealthy movements of unseen denizens of the woods. Riding in single file, they spoke seldom; each of them was dwelling on the part he had to play; a slip might result in unpleasant consequences. The morning air felt chill on their faces, but the slowly-mounting sun would soon bring more heat than was comfortable.
At the end of several hours, the leader called a halt and got down. Pointing to a sharp ridge on their right, he said:
"Oughta be able to git a glimp o' the Bend from up there. I'll take a peep--better he shore than sorry."
He trudged away, and they presently saw him come into view on the peak of the height. He was soon back, a grin of satisfaction on his face. He waved a hand to the right.
"The Bend is over there, so we're pointin' slap on the target," he said, and with a glance at his watch, "Time a-plenty, too."
"An' it's a good place for the purpose, is it, Bill?" Dover queried.
"Couldn't 'a' found a better if I'd bin Jesse James hisself," Burke assured him.
Another five miles brought them to a small forest of pines, and threading their way through the slim, straight trunks they came to a strip of thick bush, on the other side of which ran a single line of railroad. They pulled up where the matted foliage of the trees afforded deep shadow.
"Here she is," the foreman said, unstrapping a small axe from behind his saddle.
"No need for that, Bill," Dan said. "That windfall will serve our purpose."
A rope was tied to the prostrate tree, and one of the horses dragged it to the side of the line. The three men then lifted and laid it across the rails.
"They'll have to get down to shift her," Sudden said. "Yu'll take charge o' them, Bill, while I deal with the passengers, an' Dan attends to the baggage-car. We'll spread along, keepin' in the bushes till the train stops. No shootin', 'less yu have to, an' then--miss."
The horses were concealed in a group behind the brush, and tied, in case the noise of the locomotive should startle them. Burke consulted his watch again.
"She's liable to be here any time now," he said. "Better pull down the blinds an' git to our stations."
With faces masked by bandanas in which eye-holes had been cut, and hat-brims drawn low down, they looked at one another and laughed.
"Shore does make a difference," Sudden admitted. "I wouldn't trust either o' yu with ten cents."
"Funny what a sense o' security that bit o' rag gives you," Dover reflected aloud. "I was feelin' a mite nervous about the job, but it's all gone."
"Me, I'll be glad when it's over," the foreman confessed. "Our intentions is good, but we're bustin' the law all to bits."
A puff of smoke down the line sent them under cover; the train was coming. Laboriously it approached, rumbling along the rails, belching white clouds, and then, with a screeching of brakes, slowed and stopped. The driver thrust his head out of the cab and stared at the obstruction.
"Hey, Luke, there's a blame' tree in the road," he called. "We'll hey to git down an' shift her."
Clumsily the two men clambered out and moved to the front of the engine. At the same moment, a masked figure stepped from the bushes and, in a gruff voice, said:
"Put 'em up, boys, an' you won't git hurt."
A levelled revolver, held in a steady hand, added weight to the command, and the railwaymen had no thought of disobeying. As their hands reached for the sky, the driver spoke:
"The pot's yourn, Mister. I'm too wicked to die--yet."
The train-robber grinned beneath his mask but made no reply. He had done his part, and was wondering how his friends were faring. Actually, they had picked their places to a nicety. The conductor, thrusting out his head to discover the reason for an unusual halt, nearly collided with the muzzle of a six-shooter.
"Shut yore trap an' do just what I tell yu, or ." The threatening gesture was unnecessary--the conductor's pay did not justify heroism. He fell back, and allowed the possessor of the weapon to board the train. The man handed him a small leather sack.
"Collect all the cash an' valuables in the coach, startin' with yore own," he was told. "I'm just behind yu, an' if there's any funny business, yu won't be here to laugh. Sabe?"
Evidently the conductor did, for he emptied his pockets with alacrity, and then entered the coach. There were only half-a-dozen passengers, and every one of them protested, but the sight of the sinister figure stalking behind him silenced all argument. But, as Sudden afterwards related, "What they were to do to the railroad company would--put it outa busi ness."
When the ordeal was completed, and it did not take long, the bandit took the bag, stepped to the end of the coach, and ,addressed his victims:
"Listen, folks. When yu reach Sandy Bend, go to the bank ,n' yu'll get back yore property. This ain't a real stick-up we're doin' it to win a wager, but--don't try no tricks, 'cause that'll make it serious." As he descended from the train, he motioned the conductor to follow. "I've told those people the truth, but I'm keepin' yu covered till my friend has finished."
A moment. later Dan appeared, a corded, wooden box under one arm. He had experienced no difficulty--the baggage-man also was too sinful, or poorly-paid, to risk his life. Moreover, he had no knowledge as to the value of the purloined box, which, with some sacks of flour, comprised all his charge. So, white-faced, he watched the marauders vanish into the undergrowth. After all, the banker at Sandy Bend could afford to buy more gun-fodder, for the box--addressed to him--was labelled, "Handle with care. Cartridges."
Sudden read the inscription and laughed grimly. "Golden bullets, but they won't be fired at the Circle Dot. Well, boys, we've done fine, but the job ain't finished; I've gotta get the plunder to the Bend an' beat the train. I reckon Nigger an' me can make it. Yu two point for home." They demurred a little at this, but he would not listen. "We settled it thataway,"'he reminded. "I ain't knowed there an' yu are."
Rolled in his slicker, the box and leather bag were roped to his saddle, and just as the engine-driver and his mate pushed the obstruction clear of the line, he set out.
The train resumed its interrupted journey, the occupants excitedly discussing the inciden
t, and speculating on the possibility of recovering what they had lost. The conductor was disposed to a sanguine view.
"No sense in tellin' us that if it ain't so," he said. "We couldn't do nothin', an' it's just the sort o' mad caper them cowboys would indulge in on a dare. Anybody out much?"
"My wallet contains two hundred dollars I'll be glad to see again," a passenger replied.
Smaller amounts of currency, rings, and watches were claimed by the rest, and when the conductor stated that the baggage-car contained only sacks of meal and a box of cartridges, an atmosphere of optimism developed.
"If they're winning a worth-while sum--and they must be to risk a long term of imprisonment--they'll play safe and return the booty," the largest loser argued. "We'll know soon."
But their troubles were not yet over, for after travelling another five miles, the train slowed down and stopped with a jerk. The conductor stuck his head out--cautiously this time, and promptly drew it in again.
"Damn me if there ain't another tree on the line," he said. "What's the game? We got nothin' more for 'em."
The bewildered passengers heard a sharp order, accented by a rifle-shot, which brought the two men on the engine tumbling hastily to the ground, hands in the air. The tall, heavily-built cowboy who had given it slanted his smoking weapon on them, and said warningly:
"Stay put if you want to go on living."
Stealing a glance back along the line they could see that the previous procedure was again in operation; two other men, masked and with drawn pistols, had boarded the train. In vain the conductor--who at once realized that these were not the same visitors--tried to explain.
"Yo're too late, Mister, them other fellas has beat you to it; we're cleaned complete."
The bandit pushed the gun in his face. "What other fellas?" he barked. "Talk fast, or by the Devil's teeth ..."
The trembling man talked fast, and called upon his passengers to support his story by an ocular demonstration--their empty pockets. The recital did not improve the intruder's temper.
"Can you describe 'em?" he asked.
Sudden Makes War (1942) Page 9
