Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 09 - Sudden Makes War(1942)

by Oliver Strange

  Malachi blinked at him owlishly. “Mis’ Tren’on here? Thash wrong; no place f’r lady.

  Have to shpeak to Zeb when I shee him.” He hoisted himself to his feet. “Mus’ go now. Goo’bye.

  Staggering and stumbling through the sand, he reached the gorge, and, in the shade of a bush, lay down and slept. Atthe evening meal, when they were wondering what had become of him, he walked in, his face deathly white, hands shaking.

  “Dan, I’ve done an unpardonable thing—betrayed you,” he began, in a harsh, unnatural voice, and not sparing himself, told his story.

  They listened in silence, and then Dan said, “So they are here. How many?”

  “I have no idea; I was too drunk to try and find out anything,” Malachi replied miserably. “All Bundy said was that Miss Trenton is with them.”

  Dover stared. “Did you say Miss Trenton?” he asked. “Zeb must be loco to drag a girl into this. If he fancies her presence will help him, he’d better think again.”

  “Worthwhile gettin’ acquainted with this place—we may have visitors in the mornin’,”

  Sudden said, and as he passed Malachi, added, “Don’t yu fret, Doc, we all make mistakes, an’ they were bound to find us sooner or later.”

  The doctor looked at him dumbly; these men were beyond his comprehension. He had failed them—terribly, perhaps destroyed their hope of success, and instead of reproach, there was only a calm acceptance of the situation, and a readiness to face it. He shook his head.

  “I’m just a cheap Judas, who has sold his friends for fifty cents’. worth of whisky,” he said moodily. “And I’m a poor fighter, Jim.”

  “Shucks! The man who never lost a battle ain’t been born yet,” the puncher consoled.

  With the help of blazing pine-knots, they carried out an inspection of the cavern, to the apparent concern of thousands of bats in the dark dome above, but no indication that any human being had ever before set foot there rewarded them. Sudden was curious about the back of the cave, where the walls and roof closed in leaving only what seemed to be the mouth of a tunnel leading into the bowels of the earth. The floor was fairly level, as were the walls, but it was clearly Nature’s handiwork. Probably, he conjectured, many thousands of years ago, it had formed a channel for a great volume of water.

  Anxious to know whether it provided another exit, he went on and had proceeded something less than two hundred yards when an intuition of danger caused him to pull up sharply and hold his light lower. His nerves were in perfect condition, but what he saw sent a shiver up his spine. A stride from where he stood yawned a gap in the floor, about twelve feet across, and extending from wall to wall. He knelt on the brink, moving the torch to and fro, but could only see that the sides of the abyss were perpendicular, and hear, from far below, the rumbling roar of a racing torrent.

  “An’ I nearly walked into it; fools for luck,” he soliloquized, as he turned to retrace his steps. “I must warn the boys that this ain’t no way to run.”

  Chapter XVII

  Bundy, having watched his drunken victim out of sight, hurried with all speed to his own camp, and called his employer aside. His cunning eyes were alight with triumph.

  “Boss, I got news—big news,” he cried. “I’ve found out where them Circle Dot dawgs is holed up. They never come this way a-tall, they just tricked—”

  “Never mind that,” the rancher said impatiently. “Where are they?”

  “The other side o’ that hollow, right opposite to here.”

  “Have you seen any of them?”

  “Yeah. Come across Doc Malachi.”

  Trenton regarded him with disgust. “You’ve been drinkin’, dreamin’,” he sneered.—“Damnation, I’m tellin’ you the truth,” Bundy raged. “Don’t strain yore system,” the other said acidly. He was in a bad temper; they had lost the trail, and this fool had raised hopes only to dash them again. “Get on with the fairy tale.”

  The foreman swallowed his wrath, and explained. Trenton listened to the end, still only half-convinced.

  “Malachi,” he muttered. “Why should he be with them?”

  “Claimed he was takin’ a holiday—to get a sheep,” Bundy jeered. “Wanted me to believe he was alone.” He laughed. Trenton did not join in the mirth; the presence of the doctor seemed to worry him. As he turned away, he said, “Well, if what you say proves to be correct, it will add, maybe, a hundred dollars to yore share, my man.”

  He did not see the grimace of hate this patronizing speech produced, nor hear the hissed words: “Throw yore chicken-feed to them as needs it, you stingy of buzzard; I’m helpin’ myself, an’ be damned to you.”

  When Garstone, who had been riding with Beth, returned, the rancher told him of the foreman’s discovery.

  “Good,” the Easterner said. “We’ll pay them a visit in the morning. You got that paper all safe?”

  “Do you think I’m dumb enough to bring it here?” Trenton enquired satirically. “No, sir, it might get into wrong hands. I played safe, an’ destroyed it, after learning the contents.”

  Chesney Garstone concealed his chagrin only by an effort. “My God, you took a; risk,” he said. “If you should—die …”

  “The secret would be lost. I appreciate yore anxiety, but would that matter to me?”

  The big man forced a smile. “I suppose not, but—.”

  “I have a niece. True, but I’m a selfish man, an’ I don’t care two flips of a cow’s tail what happens in this world after I’ve left it,” was the callous reply.

  There was a great deal of low-toned conversation that evening round the men’s fire. The foreman could not keep his achievement to himself, though he took care to make clear that it was due mainly to his sagacity, and not—as in fact—to blind chance.

  “So now, thanks to me, all we gotta do is walk in an’ collar the plunder,” he concluded.

  “Have to locate the Cache first, ain’t we?” Lake wanted to know.

  “No trouble a-tall,” Bundy assured him. “The Ol’ Man has a paper givin’ exact directions, which is somethin’ them other guys ain’t got, or they’d ‘a’ bin off by now.”

  “Sounds good,” Rattray remarked casually.

  “Shore does,” Bundy said ironically. “Why, in three-four days we’ll be back in Rainbow, git our two hundred bucks apiece mebbe, an’ live ‘appy every after.”

  “Two hundred—hell,” Lake ejaculated. “Is that Trenton’s notion o’ things?”

  “He half promised me an extra hundred for what I done to-day,” was the sneering reply.

  “Figure out yore chances.”

  No one answered, but the black looks of his hearers betrayed their feelings plainly enough. The foreman said no more; he had sown the seed, and was willing to await the harvest.

  In the morning, Garstone approached the rancher. “What about Miss Trenton? Taking her along?”

  “Nothin’ else for it,” was the reply. “Can’t leave her in this wild spot, unless you’d keep her company.”

  The suggestion was not at all to Garstone’s liking. “I would enjoy it, of course, but I want to be in on this thing,” he said.

  “And I doubt if it would be wise to weaken our force; we don’t know how strong Dover is.”

  “Oh, he won’t fight,” the rancher returned contemptuously. “But perhaps yo’re right. You can look after Beth.”

  A little later Trenton led the way across the basin, his men in pairs behind, the girl and Garstone in the rear. Excitement shone in her eyes, and there was a tinge of colour in the slightly-tanned cheeks. A wave of passion swept over the man by her side. He bent towards her.

  “My dearest ambition has come to pass this morning,” he whispered.

  “We haven’t found the treasure yet,” she replied, wilfully ignoring his meaning.

  “I have found mine already, and have been deputed by your uncle to take care of it—for to-day. I would like the task to last longer—a lifetime. Do you understand, Beth?”

  Th
e words, spoken in a low, ardent tone, quickened her pulses and brought a hot flush to her face. For days she had expected the avowal, had almost decided to accept, but now that the moment had come, she hesitated.

  “Yes, I understand,” she said gently. “But we have known each other such a little while.

  You must give me time.”

  “Well, that’s fair, my dear,” he replied. “Perhaps when this trip is over, you will know me better.”

  She thanked him with a look which bred a desire to take her in his arms then and there, but he fought down the impulse; with this girl—even had they been alone—it would be an act of folly.

  “What has become of the Circle Dot people?” she asked. Evidently, Trenton had told her only that they were to unearth the hidden wealth.

  “We are on our way to visit them,” he said. “They are camped on or near the spot we wish to search.”

  “Do you think Mister Dover will be—difficult?”

  “No, since your uncle knows where to look, and he doesn’t, a wise man would admit that he has lost.”

  “I’m afraid he’s not very wise.”

  “A hot-headed young fool describes him better,” Garstone said. “If he asks for trouble, he’ll get it.”

  By this time the gorge was reached. Beth Trenton was conscious of a cold tremor as she looked at the barren, sterile walls, broken only by stunted growths clinging precariously where fissures in the cliff provided a semblance of soil; she had a premonition of impending tragedy.

  Despite the bright sun, and the twittering of birds in the bushes which lined their path, the place seemed to convey a threat. A sharp command rang out.

  “That’ll be far enough, Trenton.”

  The Wagon-wheel owner dragged on his reins. “Who the devil are you to give me orders?” he called. “Afraid to face me?”

  Dover stepped from behind a shrub some twenty paces away. “No, but I’d think twice o’ turnin’ my back on you,” was his cutting reply. “What’s yore errand here?”

  “None of yore business.”

  “I’m makin’ it mine.”

  “How long have you owned the hills,” Trenton retorted. “I go where I please.”

  “An’ it pleased you to follow my trail, foot by foot,” Dan sneered. “Quit lyin’; you’ve come to steal somethin’ that belongs to me, but I got here first.”

  Anger and surprise betrayed the rancher into forgetting his customary caution. “You’ve found it?” he cried.

  Dan’s laugh was not mirthful. “The cat’s out,” he said. “Found what? The charmin’ view you came all this way to show yore niece, an’ fetched along five armed men to help you locate it?”

  The taunting tone and the fear that he might be too late after all, roused the rancher to fury. “You damned whelp,” he stormed. “If it weren’t for my niece—

  “Skittles!” Dan interposed. “She’ll be in no danger ‘less you all try to hide behind her. Set yore dawgs on when you’ve a mind.”

  Without looking round, Trenton gave an order. “Scatter and take cover; we’ll cut this cockerel’s comb right now.”

  Even as they moved to obey, he snatched out his revolver and fired at Dover. He was too late; the young man had guessed right and vanished just in time. A volley from the Wagon-wheelers followed but was ineffective since they had not even a protruding rifle-barrel to aim at. Trenton, with a curse of disgust at having missed, jumped his horse for the bushes. At the first shot, Garstone had seized the rein of Beth’s mount and dragged it to the side of the gorge.

  “Get off and sit down,” he ordered, and set the example. “We should be safe here if the idiots don’t aim low.” He noticed her expression of surprise. “I’m from the East, and I don’t hold with these primitive ways of settling differences,” he went on. “Maiming or killing an opponent only proves proficiency with a weapon, so the greater ruffian is always right.”

  She did not reply; it was all very plausible, but even with her own Eastern upbringing, the sight of this big fellow sitting beside her in probable security while his friends fought, seemed wrong.

  “What did Dover mean by saying the treasure belongs to him?” she asked.

  “Obviously a lie,” he replied carelessly.

  The crash of the firing increased as the defenders of the gorge got busy, and several bullets zipped through the branches above their heads, sending down a shower of twigs and leaves.

  “Damn them, they’re shooting wild,” Garstone muttered. “Lie close.”

  He took her hand, but she drew it away. “I’m not afraid,” she told him.

  “I am—for you,” he replied warmly, but got no response.

  The spiteful crack of the rifles continued for a space, and then came a long-drawn groan. Garstone, peering from their retreat, saw Trenton, his gun falling from nerveless fingers, stagger from the bushes and fall headlong in the open.

  “Damnation! the swine have got Zeb,” he cried.

  Beth scrambled to her feet. “I must go to him,” she said, and disregarding his remonstrance, ran to where her uncle was lying.

  Bundy was already kneeling beside him, apparently searching for the injury. Garstone followed the girl, calling out for the firing to cease, and energetically waving a white handkerchief. He need not have troubled; even the appearance of Dover and Malachi produced no shot. The latter’s examination was brief.

  “He’s not dead,” he announced. “But the wound is serious.”

  “Can we take him away with us?” Garstone enquired.

  “Yes, if you want him to die,” the doctor replied tersely, and looked at Dover. “His only hope is to remain here, and in my care.”

  “Anythin’ you say, Doc,” Dan agreed. “We’ll do all we can.”

  “I shall stay to nurse my uncle,” Beth said quietly, her steady eyes challenging a refusal.

  Dover lifted his shoulders. “I ain’t objectin’, but we’re not fixed to entertain yore sex.”

  The Easterner drew Beth apart. “My mind is made up, so please don’t attempt to dissuade me,” she told him.

  “I should not dream of doing so,” he said. “you are acting bravely and rightly, but there is something I must tell you. These scoundrels have tried to kill your uncle because he alone knows exactly where the treasure is hidden; they have failed to find it. You will admit that they should not benefit by this dastardly deed.”

  “I will do anything to prevent that,” she replied, her face cold and set.

  “Good. Zeb had set his heart on securing this money and so saving the Wagon-wheel. We must try to carry out his wishes. Listen: he may become feverish and talk, or recover consciousness long enough-to confide in you. Keep everyone away from him, except the doctor, of course, and if you learn anything, let me know at once.”

  “How can I do that?”

  “You know the place where we sheltered? I will come there every evening soon after dark in the hope of seeing you. Is it agreed?”

  “Yes,” she replied. “I care little about the money, but I want to see this gang of murderers defeated.”

  By this time the wounded man had been bandaged and laid on a blanket. “Two of you take him to our camp,” Dan directed, and when Bundy and Flint at once stepped forward, added brusquely, “Not you.”

  The scowling pair fell back; Tiny and Hunch raised the burden and carried it carefully away. The doctor and the girl went with them. Dan turned to Garstone.

  “You an’ yore pack o’ curs can scratch gravel, an’ if you got any regard for yore skins, you’ll keep clear o’ here,” he warned.

  “You’re taking a high hand, Dover,” the other replied. “Miss Trenton is my promised wife, and I shall certainly come to see her.”

  “At yore own risk; if I catch you near my camp, I’ll shoot you, an’ that goes for yore thievin’ bunch too. Now, roll yore tails; the play’s over.”

  Garstone’s face became ugly. “That’s where you’re wrong,” he snarled. “This is just the first act—there’s a secon
d to come.”

  His four followers were behind him, waiting for a word. But Dover’s men were back now; Sudden, thumbs hooked in his belt, watching sardonically, Hunch, indifferently swinging his great axe in one hand so that the sun flashed on the gleaming blade; Dan and the big cowboy, alert and ready, and Yorky, his new gun gripped in both fists, eyes alive for the least movement.

  Garstone did not give the word—the odds were not sufficiently in his favour. So he sneered and went in search of his horse. The others tailed in after him, but presently Bundy spurred alongside.

  “We could ‘a’ cleaned ‘em up,” he said regretfully. “But where’s the use? Zeb didn’t have it on him.”

  “Didn’t have what?”

  “The paper, o’ course, tellin’ where the dollars is cached. Why’n hell d’you s’pose I downed him?”

  For an instant Garstone gazed at him, petrified, unable to credit his ears, and then,

  “You—shot—Trenton?”

  “Shore, I’d never git a better chance,” came the callous reply. “He was just in front o’ me, an’ with all that firin’ …”

  He paused, aghast at the fury in the other’s face. “You clumsy bungler,” the big man rasped. “Why don’t you leave the planning to those whose heads are not solid bone throughout?

  Did you imagine that Trenton would carry a secret like that on his person for rogues like you to steal?”

  “Where else?” Bundy asked sullenly.

  “In his brain, you dolt, after destroying the paper,” Garstone told him harshly. “So you’ve probably slain the only man who can tell us where the treasure is, damn you.”

  The foreman was too appalled by the magnitude of his mistake to resent the abuse showered upon him; it seemed to be the end of their hopes, and if the other men got to know …

  “Mebbe Zeb’ll come round enough to talk,” he faltered.

  “Yes, to them,” Garstone snapped.

  “There’s the gal.” Hopefully.

  “You’re a little late with that idea,” came the sneer. “What do you think I was speaking to her about? She’s our one chance, and until I get news from her, we can make no move.