The big man's face darkened with disappointment. "We ain't got none to waste," he reminded her. "I took a big risk comin' here, an' to hang about is a bigger one. There's somethin' else I oughta told yu. `Severn' ain't the real name o' yore foreman; he used to be pretty well knowed as `Sudden'. Yu've heard o' him, I guess."
Her face blanched. Sudden, the outlaw! She remembered the tales toldofhis reckless courage, marvellous marksmanship andthe dexterity with which he time after time eluded capture. She did not know that, although ostensibly a hunted criminal, he was actually working on the side of the law, and that the crimes attributed to him were committed by others. Such a man as she conceived Sudden to be might be guilty of any outrage and would show no mercy.
`Well," Bartholomew said, "knowin' that, yu still wantin' time?"
"Don't weaken," came the warning whisper.
"Yes, I musn think," Phil said faintly.
Bartholomew's patience was becoming exhausted; his voice had a very palpable sneer in it as he retorted, "Oughtn't to need much thinkin' about--the choice o' leavin' here as my wife or stayin' to be the playthin' o' these cow thieves." Instantly, by her expression, he saw that he had made a mistake, and hastened to mend it by adding, "I overheard some of 'ern talkin'."
But the damage was done; the fact that he had used the same threat as the outlaw had engendered suspicion in the girl's mind, and Bart's explanation, quick and plausible as it was, did not remove it. So that it was with a frowning face and nothing settled that he left her, with the stated intention of interviewing the Judge.
"An' when I've fixed things with him yu'll have to make up yore mind, Phil," he warned. "I ain't goin' to be fooled with."
He went out and she heard the key grate in the lock. She had but one hope--the unknown whisperer. A scrutinyofthe wall behind her showed that two of the logs did not quite meet, the space enabling the listener to hear and make himself heard. Was it the outlaw trying to trick her into throwing away her chance of escape? She did not think so; the voice had seemed agitated. She could not see through the crack, and, though she waited eagerly, the silence remained unbroken.
Bartholomew had not far to go, a mere twenty paces through the trees brought him to another hut, similar to the one he had just left. Inside this, lolling easily on a bench and puffing a cigarette, he found the Desert Edge jurist. For a moment the prisoner blinked in the sunlight which poured through the door, and then, recognising the visitor, greeted him sardonically.
"Mornin', Bartholomew, have they got you, too?" he asked. "Or are you the chief, by any chance,ofthis collection of gaol-fodder?"
"Wrong both guesses," replied the rancher.
"Ah, well, then I haven't to thank you for my arrival here?" Embley proceeded.
"No, but yu may have to for yore leavin'," Bart told him.
"And the price, Bartholomew?" the Judge queried, his glance measuring the man.
"A small service which'll cost yu nothing," was the reply. "Humph!" commented the old man drily. "I think I'd rather pay cash. And the nature of this--service?"
"Just the marriage service," grinned Bart.
The Judge's eyes widened and he rose with alacrity. "Delighted," he said. "I believe matrimony to be the only risk youhaven't indulged in. Does the ceremony take place at the Bar B?"
"No, here," the rancher replied.
"Well, why not," Embley said lightly. "A wedding and honeymoon in the mountains; most romantic. I must, however, know the lady's name and if she is willing."
"The girl is Phil Masters, an' she is willin'," Bartholomew bluntly told him.
The Judge sat down again. "Miss Masters here?" he said sternly. "What does this mean?"
"It means I'm wise to yore game, Embley, an' I'm goin' to beat it," the Bar B man replied. "Yu got hold o' Masters, framed-up his will, with yoreself as executor, an' put yore man Severn in as foreman. Then Masters disappears an' yu got a free hand. The girl marries the fella you provide an' mebbe she disappears too, an' yu grab the Lazy M. Pretty sound scheme, I gotta hand it yu."
Embley stared at him in blank astonishment. "You have more imagination than I ever gave you credit for, Bartholomew," he said.
The big man took no notice. "The on'y mistake yu made, Judge, was not countin' me in," he continued. "Phil Masters has been promised to me for quite a piece, an' I'm goin' to have her. Yore consent 'pears to be necessary an' we figured the best way to get it was to have yu do the deed."
"So you sent your cut-throats to fetch me, huh?" Embley said.
"I don't own 'em--they was hired for the job," Bart explained, adding darkly : "But I reckon they'll do as I tell 'em." The Judge replied that he hadn't a doubt of it, a remark which deepened the frown on the other's face.
"See here, Judge, there's no sense in travellin' six miles to cover one," he said. "I ain't unreasonable an' I'm makin' yu an offer. Marry me an' Phil, turn Severn down, an' I'll split the Lazy M three ways. What yu say?"
"That you are a precious rascal," Embley answered.
"Yu refusin'?" snarled Bartholomew.
"Did my reply sound like an acceptance?" smiled the old man.
The rancher stood up, his face poisonous with passion, his hand gripping his gun.
"Yo're a damn fool," he cried. "What's to prevent me from blowin' yu apart right now?"
"Several things," laughed the lawyer. "In the first place, you wouldn't get that consent."
"Bah ! Your successor--"
"Would be Governor Bleke, an old friendofmine, who would certainly carry out the instructions I have left," Embley stated coolly. "And he would ask questions, Bartholomew, questions you might find difficult to answer. In the second place, by killing me you put yourself in the powerofthese bandits--a very unwise thing to do; and, in the third place, Severn would shoot you down for the dog you are."
This time it was the Bar B man who laughed.
"He'll have to come back from over the Divide to do it," he jeered. "If the sheriffofHope ain't lost his nerve, Mister Severn is sittin' in a cell about now."
The Judge stood up, the eyes beneath the bushy brows like chilled steel.
"On what charge?" he thundered.
"Just robbin' the bank an' shootin' Rapson, to say nothin' o' murderin' Masters," sneered Bartholomew. "He'll be needin' yore prfessional services, if they ain't tried him 'a' ready."
"Utterly absurd," was the lawyer's comment.
"The evidence don't say so. It'll take a clever fella to get him clear; Tyler's got the deadwood on him, shore thing."
Embley looked at his informant and decided that, for once, the man was not lying. The news had perturbed him and he realised that he was powerless. Bartholomew, guessing what was passing in his mind, tried again.
"Better reconsider that offer o' mine, Embley," he suggested. "It's yore on'y bet."
The Judge looked at him steadily. "Bartholomew, some day I shall sentence you to be hanged," he said.
The quiet conviction in the speaker's voice robbed the wordsofany semblanceofthreat, and, despite his hardihood, the rancher was consciousofa momentary chill; the only effect on his calloused nature was to make him more angry.
"I hold the cards, yu old mule," he said harshly. "I can keep yu here till yu rot." A sudden thought came to him. "Do yu realise what it will mean to the girl if yu don't marry us?"
"Yes," said Embley scornfully. "She will escape a lifeofmisery and degradation."
Bartholomew laughed. "Wrong--that's just what she'll get, for I'll let the White Masks have her," he jeered.
The Judge looked at him with loathing.
"If anything were needed to clinch my decision, you've said it," he replied slowly. "Such a thing as you is complete justification for men like Sudden; they do for the cornmunity what the surgeon does for the human body--cut away poisonous growths."
Hardened as he was, the bitter contempt in the old man's voice seared the rancher like one of his own branding irons. Purple with passion, he struck savagely, hurling his victim against
the wall of the cabin, limp, his knees sagging, and the blood trickling down from his cut cheek.
"That's on'y a sample o' what yo're askin' for," he sneered. "Toe the line, Embley, or I'll fix things so that hell will be a welcome change to yu."
He went out, slamming and locking the door, leaving, though he did not know it, a well-nigh despairing prisoner. Embley had kept up a bold front and had no intentionofgiving in, but he could see no gleam of hope. Bartholomew was playing for a big stake, and he well knew the desperate characterofthe man. With Masters dead, Severn in custody, and the girl also in the handsofthe bandits, the Bar B owner did indeed, as he had boasted, hold all the cards.
Chapter XVIII
THE Lazy M outfit was not in its customary happy frameofmind, for it was suffering from a senseoffailure. A crushing blow had been administered to the bandits, but the chief object of the expedition had not been accomplished. The most disgruntled member was the man who had not been able to go. Larry, on his feet again but with one arm in a sling, had made the foreman's life a burden for the first twenty-four hours after the men returned.
"I tell yu we done all we could," Severn told him for about the fiftieth time. "No, I ain't goin' there; I gotta ride to Hope, though I'm admittin' there ain't much difference, an' I don't want no lovesick cripples with me neither."
With which frank expressionofhis sentiments the foreman escaped, got his horse, and rode into town. It was early afternoon when he arrived and the street was empty. The sun was blazing overhead, and he was indulging in pleasant anticipation of a cooling drink at Bent's when he noticed that the bank was open again. Jumping down, he trailed the reinsofhis pony and walked in. The banker was there, looking weak and ill. He greeted Severn with a dubious sortofsmile.
"Glad to see yu back, Mr. Rapson," said the foreman. "Set-tin' up yore game again, eh?"
"Yes, I am having another try," the banker said. "Folks here have been kind--they ain't blaming me. Mr. Bartholomew, for example, he paid in five thousand the day before the robbery and, rightly speaking, I owe him the money, but he won't claim --says he'll take his chanceofthe cash oeing recovered; others have followed his lead."
"Why, that's mighty generous," Severn allowed. "An' mighty clever," he added under his breath. They talked on different topics for a moment or two, and then Severn said, "I was wonderin' if yu'd mind breakin' these up for me. I got some small payments to make."
He produced four one-hundred-dollar bills and pushed them across the counter. Rapson glanced at them and shot a suspicious look at the unconscious cowman. His fingers were trembling as he picked up the notes.
"Certainly, Mr. Severn," he said huskily. "You don't mind if I send my clerk out on an errand first, do you?"
"No hurry," the foreman assured him and rolled a cigarette while the banker consulted a ledger and gave his assistant whispered instructions. When the youth had departed Rapson began to slowly count out smaller notes.
"Nervous as a cat," the customer reflected as he noted the way the man watched the door, and his shaking hands checking and re-checking the little pile of paper. "Well, yu can't wonder." Aloud he said : "Yu got any hope o' tracin' the stolen money?"
"I didn't have much until to-day, but I think now there's a chance," Rapson replied.
He spoke louder and much of his nervousness seerned to have vanished. Hearing footsteps, Severn turned and saw that the sheriff, with his two deputies, had entered the bank. Behind them, framed in the doorway, were several citizens, and others were arriving every moment. He scented trouble. All three officials had their hands in close proximity to their guns, and the expressionofmalignant triumph on the sheriff's features was as plain as print. Twisting half round, so that he faced them, the foreman leaned against the counter, thumbs resting in his belt, and grinned genially.
"Step right up, sheriff, my business is about through," he said.
The officer eyed him malevolently. "Yore business ain't begun," he snarled. "Where'd yu git them notes yu just cashed?"
"Well, I dunno as it's any concern o' yores, but I got 'em here," Severn drawled. "Them notes are part o' the sum I drew out o' the bank the mornin' it was raided. Ain't that so, Rapson?"
The banker shook his head. "Those four notes you handed me just now were part of the stolen money," he stated.
Severn stared at the man in blank amazement; then his eyes chilled, and in a low, even tone, he said :
"I'm supposin' yu've made a mistake, seh."
The banker sensed the menace, but, though his face was deathly white and his lips trembled, he answered without hesitation.
"There can be no mistake. Here is a list of the numbers of the larger notes taken and I gave the sheriff a copyofit after the robbery. You can see for yourself."
He held out the list and the notes. Severn compared them and nodded; the numbers of the notes he had cashed were undoubtedly there. The banker flapped open a book, took a slip of paper and wrote rapidly. When he had finished he passed over the slip.
"There are the numbers of the notes I paid you," he said.
The foreman studied the list and knitted his brows in an effort to solve the mystery. How it had come about was more than he could fathom, but he recognised that the evidence was conclusive and that he was in a very tight corner. Slipping the list into his vest pocket he laughed and looked at Tyler.
'Well, I dunno how yu did it, sheriff, but it shore looks a neat frame-up," Severn said. "I s'pose yo're goin' to charge me with helpin' to loot the bank?"
"Yu betcha--'mong other things. The shootin' o' Rapson for one," snapped the officer.
Severn's features expressed concern. "My gracious, did I shoot yu, Rapson? I'm right sorry."
"An' the murder o' Philip Masters," the sheriff added crushingly.
But the accused declined to be crushed; he only laughed. "Yore memory ain't what it oughta be, Tyler," he quizzed. "Yu've forgotten to put in the assassination o' President Lincoln."
Furious with rage at the laugh which this raised, Tyler started to pull his gun, remembered that this man had easily beaten Bart to the draw, and thought betterofit. But his movement did not pass unnoticed.
"If yo're wantin' a pack o' cards I'll get 'em, Hen," came a sarcastic voice from behind.
The badgered officer darted an angry glance in the directionofthe speaker. "I can do without a pack o' fools anyway," he snorted, and, turning to his two men, he added, "Take his gunsNeither of the deputies betrayed any great eagerness for the task and the puncher smiled.
"Better go slow, sheriff," he warned. "I'm a peaceable man up to a point, an' I got every respect for the law--for the law, I said, sheriff, not for the pin-eyed parasites who sometimes misrepresent it--but I don't like bein' rushed."
"Huh! if I say the word, we can blow yu apart," the officer blustered.
Severn did not seem to change his lolling attitude, yet with a motion that baffled the sight his guns were out levelled from the hips.
"Give yore orders, Tyler--to the undertaker," he mocked.
The blood fled from the sheriff's face and the crowd surged back towards the door, as eager to get out as it had been to enter; the bank had not been built for gun-fights. The man with the drop watched with saturnine amusement.
"No need for panic, gents," he said. "The sheriff an' his deppities will elevate their paws an' hear what I've to say." The command was obeyed without hesitation.
"Yo're resistin' arrest--that constitutes another charge," Tyler protested.
"Well, yu can't hang me but once, which is a consolation when yu come to thinkofit," the puncher grinned. "An' I ain't resistin' anyways, but T gotta little matter to arrange before I accept yore kind invite, sheriff. Yu see, there's no one in charge at the Lazy M an' the boys are liable to paint for war when they hear about this. I want someone to take 'em word from me that they ain't to sit in, an' Judge Embley, at Desert Edge, has to be told; he'll know what to do."
There was a movement near the door and Snap Lunt pushed his way uncere
moniously through the onlookers. His face betrayed no recognitionofthe Lazy M foreman.
"I'll take them messages, Mister," he offered. "I was agoin' to Desert Edge anyhow."
"I'm certainly obliged to yu," Severn said gravely.
"Here, I reckon I got a word to say 'bout this," the sheriff interposed.
Lunt looked at him with narrowed eyes. "Yu claimin' to interfere with my movements?" he asked acidly.
Tyler had nothing to say to this challenge and with a gesture of contempt the little gunman headed for the door. He had almost reached it when a foot scraped. Instantly Snap was facing the sheriff, with both guns out and venom in his slitted eyes. A few seconds of blood-chilling silence and then Snap realised that no sinister move was intended; his leathery features wrinkled into a hard grin.
"Sorry folks," he apologised. "My nerves ain't just right these days."
After he had backed through the door and vanished thesheriff gave vent to an audible sighofrelief. Oneofthe deputies expressed the general feeling.
"He oughta get them nerves seen to," he said.
"He'll find thisyer town too hot if he comes any more o' them capers," Tyler growled, his courage returning when the danger was over. "Now, Severn, what's the word?"
The cow-puncher unbuckled his gun-belt and held it out. "Havin' made my arrangements I'm entirely at yore service, sheriff," he mocked. "Yu got the wrong man, but a trifle like that won't worry yu, I'm shore."
The officer did not reply to the insult; this tame surrenderofa man he regarded as desperate and dangerous made him uneasy.
Chapter XIX
HOPE AGAIN not being sufficiently civilised to boast of a regular gaol, offenders against the law had to be content with a cell, specially constructed for the purpose at the backofthe sheriff's quarters. The walls wereof'dobe, two feet thick with a coreofstout logs, light and ventilation being provided by an unglazed opening a foot square defended by a strong iron bar. This last must have been added for effect, since only a small child could have passed through the aperture. The door was massive, and secured by a heavy lock. A round hole in the upper part enabled the inmateofthe cell to be spied upon. A pallet bed and a bench comprised the furniture.
Sudden Law o The Lariat (1935) Page 15
