He must tell them, for he needed their assistance, but when it came to a division of the spoils, he saw breakers ahead. His brow became furrowed as he dwelt on the problem. Their idea was equal shares—as much had been said—and the very thought of it filled him with rage. He found himself regretting his cavalier treatment of the foreman, but the fellow was an ignorant boor, anyway, and could no doubt be talked over.
They were sitting round the fire, smoking and chatting, when he arrived. Their changed attitude towards him was clearly shown by Lake’s greeting:
“Yo’re back early, Garstone. Warn’t yore Lulu too kind this evenin’?”
The Easterner drew himself up. “Use a civil tongue when you speak of that lady,” he said.
“And for myself, remember that, in the absence of Trenton, I’m your chief.”
“Oh, yeah,” the other sneered.
“If you don’t like that, you can clear out—now,” Garstone added.
“Who’s makin’ me?” The fellow’s hand was stealing towards his gun.
With amazing speed for one of his bulk, Garstone leapt, pinned the threatening wrist, and wrenching away the weapon, flung it down. Then his great fingers closed on Lake’s throat, lifted and shook him with such ferocity as to well-nigh dislocate his neck.
“You insolent hound,” he gritted between his teeth. “I’ve a mind to tear you in two with my hands.”
He shook him again as though about to carry out his threat, and then hurled him to the ground, to lie there panting and beaten. Garstone turned to the others, who had watched the scene in silence.
“Curse the foul-mouthed fool,” he growled. “He might have been useful to-night in the clean-up, but we must do without him.”
“The clean-up?” Bundy cried.
“Certainly—that’s what I said,” Garstone replied coolly. “Miss Trenton, as a great sacrifice of her personal comfort, has found out what we wanted to know, and this—reptile—insults her.”
The “reptile” was climbing to his feet; he had heard, as the speaker intended, and was not going to be left out if he could avoid it. Vengeance would wait.
“Aw, Boss, I warn’t meanin’ nothin’,” he whined. “Just a bit o’ joshin’, that’s all. Us fellas is a mite loose speakin’ of women, but I reckon we all respec’s Miss Trenton.”
Garstone hesitated—purposely. His gust of passion had been partly premeditated, an attempt to regain the authority which had been slipping from him since the rancher’s injury, and he had no desire to lessen the number of his force, few enough already for the task in view. Also, a dismissed man might turn traitor, warn, or even join, the enemy.
“That type of humour does not appeal to me,” he said coldly. “I am willing to overlook it, this time, but you fellows must understand that what I say goes, or I am finished with the business.”
Being completely in his hands, for the present, there could be only one answer to this, and Bundy voiced it:
“I guess we’re all agreed on that.” The others nodded assent, Lake leading the way.
“That’s all right, Boss. I s’pose with what Miss Trenton has told you, we can go straight to the Cache?”
Garstone suppressed a smile at this clumsy attempt to pump. “Hardly so simple, Bundy,” he replied. “My information will enable me to find the treasure only when we have driven Dover and his men away.”
“Why can’t we make tracks with the dollars an’ leave them Circle Dot pilgrims to go on lookin’ for what ain’t there?” Rattray wanted to know.
“Because, my clever friend, they said pilgrims are camped right on top of the dollars,” was the crushing reply.
Shortly after midnight, they set out, crossed the basin, and entered the gorge. Fortune favoured them, for the night was dark, and they were able to approach unseen. Fifty yards from the cavern, they dismounted and continued the advance on foot. Moving slowly and silently against the black background of the bushes, they presently paused at the sound of a voice—the doctor’s.
“Did you hear anything, Hunch?” it enquired.
No reply came; they did not know that the old man had answered with his customary movement of the head, useless in the darkness. So they waited, and then went a few more paces.
The shadowy forms of the sentries could now be dimly discerned.
Flint and Rattray crept up behind them, the soft sand muffling their tread, a rifle-butt rose and thudded on the head of Hunch, spreading him senseless on the ground. At the same instant, vicious iron fingers encircled Malachi’s throat from behind, preventing the escape of any sound, he was flung down, tied, and effectively gagged by men who, accustomed to handling cattle and horses, found his spare frame an easy task. That they went to this trouble in his case was due to Garstone.
“Mustn’t damage the doctor,” he had said grimly. “We may need his services.”
Leaving their victims on the ground—having first bound the old man in case he recovered—the attackers moved towards the cavern. The glow of the fires, while emphasizing the darkness, enabled them to see the blanketed sleepers, four at one, and two at the other. The latter interested them not at all. With cat-like tread, and invisible until they got within the circle of light, they spread out and then closed in on the larger fire. A low whistle from their leader, and they charged.
Outnumbered and taken by surprise, the Circle Dot men had little chance. Sudden awakened by a stumble followed by a stifled oath, only thought it was his turn to take guard, and got to his feet. Then, across the flames, he saw Yorky, kicking and struggling in the grip of a formless shadow, and heard him yell:
“Look out, Jim; they’s on to us.”
He turned just in time to escape a swinging blow from a gunstock. His hands dropped to his belt, but ere he could pull a weapon, his arms were pinioned in a band of steel and he was dragged violently backwards. He saw Yorky felled to the earth by a savage fist, and a fitful flare showed him that it was Garstone who dealt the blow; the sight of this big fellow beating up a boy disgusted and infuriated him.
With a swift wrench, he got one arm free, and twisting, drove a fist where he imagined the face of his assailant must be. His guess was a good one, he felt his knuckles connect with flesh and bone. The man fell away, but before Sudden could make any use of this advantage, another hurled himself upon him, clutching and grabbing for a hold. Every muscle braced to keep his feet, he struck fiercely right and left in an endeavour to break away and use his six-shooters, but the two men gave him not a second’s respite.
Guns began to crack spitefully, but in the flickering light and violent action, aim could only be erratic. In one flash, Sudden saw Tiny drop, and his opponent run to the aid of the two with whom Dan was fighting furiously. Biting on an oath, he redoubled his efforts, shooting out short-arm jabs with such speed and venom that one of the clawing forms fell back, and panted:
“We got you to rights, Green. Give in, or I’ll blow you apart.” The words were followed by the click of a cocked revolver.
It was Flint’s voice, and the puncher was about to tell him where he could go when a woman’s shrill shriek of despair rang out, and he saw Beth Trenton—apparently panic-stricken —running in the direction of the tunnel. The memory of the abyss awaiting her chilled his blood.
The interruption had startled his adversaries into a moment’s slackness. Stooping, he snatched a blazing pine-knot from the fire and thrust it into their faces. Scorched and half-blinded by this unexpected weapon, they recoiled, and dashing between them, he followed the girl, calling her by name. Only the hollow echo of his own cry came back to him.
He raced on, realizing that her life depended upon his over taking her in time. Fit as he was, his breathing power, already taxed by the fight against two, began to weaken under the strain he was now putting upon it. Moreover, his high-heeled cowboy boots were built for riding, not running, and the uneven nature of the ground provided another obstacle to speed.
But Sudden was not the man to boggle at difficulties
, he had met and overcome too many; so he stumbled on as best he could, and in silence, for he needed all his breath. Presently, scuffling step warned him that she could not be far away. He dared not call out, lest he frightened her; the deathtrap must be near. A moment later, holding his torch high, he saw her, only a few yards ahead, staggering blindly on, apparently oblivious to all save a desire to escape. With a last desperate effort he reached and dragged her back on the very brink of the chasm.
“It’s all right, Miss Trenton,” he said. “Yu were headin’ for danger.”
She looked at him with dazed eyes, made a feeble effort to release herself, then saw the gaping void before them and shuddered violently.
“I lost my nerve,” she murmured. “The shooting and fighting, I couldn’t bear it. I wanted to get away—anywhere.”
“Shore, I understand,” he replied.
Behind them in the tunnel, a shout, followed by two shots which whistled by them in unpleasant proximity, reminded Sudden that he was a hunted man. He had no intention of allowing himself to be taken, and if he left the girl, she might be hit in the random shooting. He took a quick glance at the bar to their retreat; it appeared to be about twelve feet wide, and the far side was slightly lower. The pursuers, who had no light, were still a little distance off and advancing slowly. It was a hazardous chance, but still—a chance. He pitched his torch carefully, saw it fall safely on the other lip and remain alight. Then he turned to his companion.
“Fellin’ better?” he asked.
“Yes, I am all right again,” she replied. “What are you going to do?”
“We gotta get over that—ditch,” he said.
“Impossible,” she cried.
“Or stay an’ be shot.”
As if to drive home his grim alternative, the tunnel reverberated with two more reports, and the bullets chipped fragments from the rock walls; they were shooting at the light. Sudden acted promptly. Seizing the girl’s arm, he stepped back ten careful paces, then stooped and lifted her.
“Keep still, an’ don’t be scared,” he said.
Filling his lungs, he started to run, gaining momentum with each stride and counting them. At the tenth, with a mighty effort, he launched himself and his burden into the air.
Sickening seconds, more like long minutes, ensued, during which they seemed to be hanging over the unseen, terrible trough of blackness beneath. Sudden felt that the girl’s weight was dragging him down, and the fear that he had failed to jump far enough flashed through his mind.
They were falling falling, and then his feet jarred on solid earth, he stumbled, and went headlong. Beth, forced from his grasp by the impact, was lying, faint and dizzy, just in front of him.
“Don’t move,” he whispered.
He need not have troubled; she had no desire or strength to do so. Prone in the darkness they waited; the torch had flickered out. Steps sounded, and a voice:
“C’mon Flint. We must be most on to him now.”
“Don’t like this damn place—too much like a perishin’ grave,” was the grumbling reply.
“I’m for goin’ back; can’t see his light even.”
“Must ‘a’ died on him, ‘bout here too. Thought you wanted this hombre?”
“Shore do, I’d like to flay him alive.”
“Sam here, an’ I ain’t losin’ a—Christ!”
The imprecation was succeeded by a blood-curdling shriek of terror, and then a second, dulled, like a weird echo, appearing to come from the depths below.
“What’s happened, Rat?” Flint cried anxiously. “Where are you?”
A match spluttered in flame. Evidently the surviving ruffian was investigating. Then came a horror-stricken “Gawda’mighty!” and the pad of hurried footsteps dying away in the direction of the cave.
Sudden pawed about, managed to find and light his precious pine-knot, and then assisted the girl to stand up. She was unhurt, but trembling as one in an ague.
“He has died—a terrible death,” she whispered. “Why did I come to this awful country?”
Sudden’s reply had a touch of sternness. “Don’t blame the country because there are evil men in it, they are everywhere, in the big cities as well as the small settlements. What has happened is just that one o’ them has gone to the hell waitin’ for him, an’ the world is the better for his goin’. Now, we ain’t quit o’ trouble yet—we gotta find a way out.”
His cold-blooded view of the tragedy steadied, if it did not convince her. They resumed their journey, the puncher slightly in advance, and keeping a wary eye for further pitfalls. Beth was silent for some time, and then asked:
“What do you suppose has happened in the cave?”
“Most probably yore friends are on top by this,” he replied dryly. “Tiny and Yorky were out of it when I left, an’ Dan was battlin’ against three—big odds for any man.”
“Why did you run away and leave him?” she demanded, and there was something of anger in her tone.
The darkness hid his grin. “I was scared,” he said.
The answer, coming from one who had recently dared that desperate leap, was too absurd. “I don’t understand.”
“Scared you would suffer Rattray’s fate,” he told her.
The blood raced into her pale face, and she was thankful he could not see it. “Forgive me,” she murmured. “You knew of that awful place then? I should have guessed there was a good reason for your leaving Mister Dover. You saved me, and I haven’t even thanked you.”
“I’d like yu to forget it, ma’am,” he said, supremely uncomfortable. “Ain’t that a blink o’ daylight ahead?”
She failed to see anything, and small wonder, for it was still night outside, as the puncher well knew, but it served his purpose. Presently he noticed she was limping, and asked the reason.
It is nothing—just a bruise, when we fell,” she explained. “Why didn’t you leave me on the other side? Those men would not have harmed me.”
“They were shootin’, in the dark, an’ might have hit yu,” he pointed out. “Mebbe I took a risk, but there warn’t much time to chew things over.”
After another silence. “You could have warned Rattray.”
“Did yu hear what they wanted to do to me?” he asked caustically, and when she could not answer, added, “They would have thanked me with bullets.”
They plodded on, resting on the ground at intervals. Progress was tedious, for the friendly pine-knot had burned out, and they had to grope their way through the blackness. At length, however, Sudden was conscious of a freshness in the heavy atmosphere, and away in the distance there really was a spot of faint light. Beth saw it also, and it revived her flagging energy.
“An opening,” she breathed. “Heavens, I feel as though I had been buried alive.”
They reached it, and stepped out into the chill air of the dawn. They were on the side of a steep hill; the country below was shrouded in mist, and from out of it came the roar of a river.
Chapter XX
In the cavern, the battle was over. Tiny, smiting lustily, had held his own against Garstone and Lake until a wild shot from Bundy, intended for his own antagonist, struck the big cowboy above the knee and brought him down. Having first secured his six-gun, the released pair went to help the foreman, who was wishing he had taken on an easier task than the owner of the Circle Dot. Awakening to find himself already in Bundy’s clutch, Dan had fought furiously.
Hammered relentlessly, the attacker had to let go, and both pulled their guns. Dodging about in the uncertain light of a fire, however, does not make for good shooting, and beyond a graze or two, both were unhit.
“Best give in, Dover, we’re three to one,” Garstone urged, as he and Lake arrived.
“You can go plumb to hell,” the young man panted.
They came upon him from all sides. He fired once, doing no damage, and then the weapon was struck from his hand. He had a glorious moment when he felt his fist smash into Garstone’s lips, and that was the end;
someone jerked his feet from under him, and though he continued a hopeless struggle, they soon had him bound and helpless. The Easterner, blood drooling from his gashed mouth, bent down, eyeing him with malevolent satisfaction.
“Well, Dover,” he jeered. “You’ve made a pretty mess of things. But for you, we’d never have found this place. Thanks.”
“Which takes in the pretty mess I’ve made o’ yore face, I s’pose,” Dan countered.
“No, I’ll be showing my gratitude for that later,” Garstone frowned. “After we’ve collected the dollars.”
Dan managed a laugh. “Oh, I can wait; I ain’t one o’ them impatient fellas.”
“What’s a few hours anyway?”
“If you think Zeb’ll talk that soon, yo’re wrong; you did too thorough a job.”
It was the other man’s turn to laugh. “That’s where you’re wrong—he has talked,” he said triumphantly. “I had the news I was waiting for last evening.”
This time he scored. Dan understood; it was the girl who had brought this disaster upon them. In fairness, however, he could not blame her; she was on the other side, and he should have remembered. He had missed a bet.
“What’s come o’ the two men who were outside? Did you kill them?”
“Certainly not. We had to tie them up, and I fancy your aged lunatic got a rap on the head. You have yourselves to thank for any rough treatment.”
“We can take it,” Dan retorted. “I noticed you picked on the kid for yore share. Where’s Green?”
The taunt penetrated the big man’s skin. “I neither know nor care. When Miss Trenton lost her wits and ran screaming for that opening at the back of the cave, he appeared to lose his courage, and followed her. Two of my men went in pursuit, and have not returned.”
Even as the words left his mouth, Flint staggered into the firelight. His labouring lungs told that he had been hurrying. “Well, did you get them?” Garstone asked.
“Get them?” the man repeated.
“Yes. Green and Miss Trenton.”
Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 09 - Sudden Makes War(1942) Page 19
