Sudden Goldseeker (1937) s-3

by Oliver Strange

  "You've got nerve, Sudden," the man admitted, as he replaced his weapon and stood up. "Mebbe we'll find another way o' persuadin' you." He slouched away and the prisoner leaned back against his tree; only just in time had the kidnapper remembered that a dead body could tell them nothing. But the prospect was not heartening--there would be other ordeals. Telling himself that it was no good climbing hills till you came to them, he went to sleep.

  A slight commotion in the camp awakened him some hours later. A man on a black horse had just arrived, leading another animal on which was a woman; her hands were tied behind and she was blindfolded. Amid deep-throated mirth, one of the gang lifted her from the saddle and removed the handkerchief; it was Lora Lesurge. He had but little time for speculation. The man who had threatened him with death brought the woman to where he sat.

  "Told you we'd find another way," he jeered. "Here's a friend o' yores who'll mebbe get you to see things different--for her sake. I'll leave you to chew it over." Lora sank down wearily; she was utterly exhausted. The supercilious, self-assured woman, serenely conscious of her charm had, for the time being, receded, leaving only a frightened girl.

  "God I never was so pleased to see anyone," she cried. "But how come yu to be here?" Sudden asked.

  "I came to visit you--for Paul," she explained. "I rode towards your claim, but before I reached it I heard a shot from up on the hill-side, and just afterwards, a rider came out ofsome bushes ahead of me. Before I could utter a sound he gripped my throat and squeezed it till I lost consciousness. I recovered on the way here, to find myself packed like a piece of merchandise on the back of my horse." Incredible as the story seemed, Sudden could not but believe it; those cruel, livid marks on the slender white neck were real enough. He had already decided that his leggings and hat had been taken for some purpose but it could not be this--they could not have known of the girl's errand.

  "But why are you here?" she questioned, and, noticing the battered condition of his face, "What have they been doing to you?"

  "We had a li'l argument 'bout my comin'," the puncher told her, with a lopsided grin, "but there was too many of 'em an' they persuaded me." He gave a sketchy account of his adventure, including--as an experiment--the question he had been asked. The result was disappointing; unfeigned admiration was all he could find in her face, and that was not what he wanted.

  "Why didn't you promise?" she cried. "It isn't your gold-mine."

  "Snowy trusted me," he said simply.

  "You could have taken them to the wrong place." He looked at her quizzically. "Yeah, it don't matter much where a fella is buried." She was silent for a while, fighting to regain her self-control. Apparently she succeeded, for when the leader of the gang approached again she faced him boldly.

  "I suppose you know me?" she said, and when he nodded, "My brother will have a hundred men out searching, and if you are caught you will hang, every one of you."

  "We're givin' you the shack," he said gruffly. "Better turn in an' git some sleep. I'll speak with you in the mornin'."

  "I prefer to stay here," she replied.

  "Do I have to carry you?" he asked.

  "Good night--Jim," she said.

  Chapter XIII

  Sudden's disappearance caused consternation in the cabin of the gold-dealer, and Gerry's first job in the morning was to interview Bizet. The proprietor of the Paris could only tell him that the puncher had left early, sober and alone.

  "I warn him to be careful," he said. "He have made enemy, you understan'?" One or two men remembered meeting him in the street, heading for home, and that was all he could learn. On the way back from his futile quest, his plainsman's eye noted the signs of a scuffle near the big bush, turf torn up, stones dislodged, and, in one place, a splash of blood. The ground behind was trodden flat and littered with cigarette stubs. A little way off, horses had waited. Gerry swore.

  "Damnation! They laid for him," he growled. "I oughtn't to 'a' let him go alone." He tried to follow the hoof-prints, but soon had to give it up as hopeless. He returned to Jacob and told him what he feared.

  "He ain't gone willin'--the marks show that," he concluded. "An' he'd never leave Nigger behind."

  "We can only wait," the old man said. "I've great faith in your friend; if he's in trouble, he'll get out of it." But two days passed and there was no news of the missing man, and then Gerry got a shock. He was in the Paris, talking to Bizet and Hickok, when a half-drunken miner lurched up and said sneeringly:

  "Still mournin' that pardner o' your'n? Well, you needn't to worry 'bout him. He's holed up somewheres handy an' he's the swine who's killin' an' robbin' we'uns of our dust, one at a lick. But mebbe I ain't bringin' you news?" For a moment the cowboy did not comprehend; then the full import of the accusation came to him, and he acted. His left fist swung out, caught the speaker full in the mouth and sent him sprawling on the sanded floor. When, spitting out curses and blood from badly gashed lips, he started to rise, he found Gerry's gun slanted on him.

  "Own yo're a liar," the boy gritted, his face pale with fury. The blow and the threat sobered the miner. "Mebbe, but I'm on'y tellin' you the common talk," he said sullenly.

  Hickok put a hand on Gerry's arm. "Let him get up an' we'll hear what he has to say," he suggested.

  The man climbed to his feet. "There was a digger shot an' cleaned out two days back an' a fella wearin' leggin's, a 'two-gallon' hat, ridin' a black hoss, was seen around just before," he said. "This arternoon another is clubbed, an' dies, but not before he's able to say one word, 'Sudden.' Them's fac's, mister," he concluded triumphantly.

  "My partner is not the killer," Gerry retorted angrily. "I know Jim."

  "You may, but there's a-plenty in this city as don't, an' if he's catched he'll take the high jump, I'm tellin' you. He wears the duds an' rides a black."

  "Which has been in Jacob's corral the whole time," the boy pointed out.

  "Havin' bin left as a blind," suggested a bystander, and earned a look from the gunman which sent him sidling towards the door.

  "I too know Green," Hickok said loudly. "He is not the kind to commit cowardly crimes." This pronouncement finished the discussion so far as the Paris was concerned, but in the other saloons the matter was being fiercely commented on and the puncher was already adjudged guilty and condemned. The only other topic which vied with it in importance was the disappearance of Miss Lesurge. At first Paul had accepted her absence with a quiet confident smile.

  "Lora can take care of herself," he said.

  But when the second day passed and he learned that Green was also missing, he became uneasy, and sent out searchers to comb the district; they returned without news.

  "Mebbe they've run away to git hitched," Snowy suggested. Paul's eyes flashed, but he smiled. "Forty dollars a month wouldn't keep Lora in shoe-leather," he said. "But of course, he knows where your mine is." The old man looked alarmed for a moment, and then replied stoutly, "Jim wouldn't do a thing like that--he's white."

  "According to what they're saying in town he's as black as Satan's soul," Lesurge contradicted.

  Though he had scoffed at it, Snowy's guess returned to him when he was alone, and brought a heavy frown to his brow. Pacing up and down the room, he weighed the pros and cons, and knowing Lora's tempestuous nature, had to admit that it was possible.

  "She wouldn't dare," he muttered, and knew he lied.

  Meanwhile, in the kidnappers' camp, the prisoners were playing for time. In the morning, their leader paid Sudden another visit, bringing the lady with him. The night's rest, a wash in a nearby spring, a few deft touches to hair and dress, had transformed her into a different person, and the puncher saw admiration in their gaoler's eyes when she greeted her companion in captivity with a gay smile. But the fellow's voice was gruff when he asked:

  "Any new ideas this mornin'?"

  "Nary a one," Sudden told him. "Yo're what a friend o' mine calls `stale-mated.' Murderin' me won't get yu what yo're after, an' lettin' me live won't
neither."

  "I ain't so shore. There's means to make a man open his mouth--if it's on'y to squeal."

  "Go right ahead."

  "I'm aimin' to. When I've done with you--"

  "Yu'll be wise as before--still dumb." With an oath the man turned away, but Lora drew him aside.

  "Have you no sense at all?" she asked sharply. "Can't you see the type you are dealing with? He's as obstinate as a mule and torture won't move him."

  "He's a tough hombre, all right, as some of us has reason to know," the man growled, "but s'pos'n the--persuasion--is applied to you?" The woman's cheeks became a shade paler at this diabolic suggestion but she answered steadily: "It would make no difference--he's not my lover, and these gunmen have no feelings. Besides"--and her glance was soft, caressing--"you wouldn't do anything to hurt me--Hank."

  "Who gave you my name?" he asked suspiciously.

  "I heard one of the others call you," she explained. "You don't mind my knowing, do you?" He muttered a curse and through the slits in the mask his greedy gaze roamed over her, from the slender feet in their trim riding-boots to the felt hat set jauntily on the wealth of glossy black hair. She endured the scrutiny with a reliant smile.

  "Well?" she asked.

  "Yo're a good-looker, for shore," he admitted. "What's yore plan?"

  "Leave our friend to me," she replied. "I can make him see reason, but it will take time, and we must be together."

  "How much time?"

  "Several days probably--he's not easy."

  "An' while I'm waitin', Ducane gits the mine," he objected.

  "Sudden's his friend--he won't start without him," she urged, and then smiled. "Are you so eager to part with me?" A muffled laugh came from behind the mask. "When we go after the gold yo're comin' along, my beauty. Well, I'm givin' you two days; if you ain't turned the trick by then, it'll be for me to try." With the ominous threat ringing in her ears Lora went back-to the puncher, who had watched the conversation with some impatience. He could not hear what was said but he guessed the woman was pleading for him, and did not like the idea

  "We have two days," she said, as she sat down. "Two little days to bewitch you with my poor charms and, like a modern Delilah, betray you to your enemies." She spoke jestingly, but ended on a bitter note. "And the fool believes that I will try."

  "I'm obliged to yu, ma'am, but " Sudden began.

  "Don't be stupid," she said sharply. "I was merely thinking of myself. With you crippled by torture, what chance have I of escaping from these wretches?" And then her manner changed. "Sorry, Jim, I didn't mean to be snappy," she finished.

  "What we gotta think about is hoodwinkin' these smarties an' slidin' outa here," he said.

  That day passed and the next, without any opening presenting itself. Always watched, they could not tamper with their bonds in daylight, and at nightfall the woman was conducted back to the shelter. Dusk found them sitting in the old spot, glum, dispirited.

  "We must do something," Lora said desperately. "Hank will want his answer to-night. The beast is beginning to think he owns me. Isn't it possible to free ourselves?"

  "Tied up like this, undoin' them knots needs a lot o' time an' we ain't got it. If we on'y had a knife."

  "A knife?" she whispered. "Heavens, what a fool I am. I always carry one, and they never thought to search me." Her bound hands fumbled at the bosom of her dress and then dropped. "I can't get it, Jim," she said. "You try." She bent towards him, and in the fading light he saw the gleam of a white throat and felt her shiver as his groping fingers touched the soft silken softness of her skin. Then they closed on the haft of a tiny Spanish dagger and drew it from the sheath. A mere three inches of steel sharp-pointed and keen-edged as a razor, it was a toy, but a terrible one. Sudden glanced across the glade. Two men only were squatting by the fire. In a few moments it would be dark. Hank was late.

  He stooped and cut loose the girl's bonds, and when she had done the same for him, slipped the weapon into the top of his right-hand boot, where it would be easily accessible. Then he saw one of the men stand up and stretch himself.

  "Follow me," he whispered. "Tread as lightly as yu can." Swiftly they melted into the darkness of the pines. Slipping like shadows between the slender trunks of the trees they con trived to reach the other side of the glade. So far their absence did not appear to have been discovered.

  "I'm goin' to try for my guns," Sudden whispered. "Wait." Before she could voice a protest, a man going towards the camp almost stepped on them. His cry of alarm died in his throat as a blow like a flung stone took him on the point of the jaw. Sudden caught the falling body and lowered it to the ground. His hands were busy for a moment and when he spoke the girl knew that he was amused.

  "Thoughtful o' Hank to bring my guns," he murmured "He was wearin' em, an' my hat an' chaps. Was he the fella that fetched yu here?"

  "He might have been," she replied.

  "It don't signify. Hank'll be good an' quiet for a spell an' I reckon the rest won't start anythin' till he turns up." They tramped on through seemingly endless aisles of pines and at length reached an open space. The puncher studied the sky and swore softly.

  "Not a blame' star to steer by," he said. "We'll have to wait for sunrise to get a direction. Better keep a-movin' though." For another hour they struggled on. Speed was out of the question for there was no trail, and, in the dark, it was impossible to avoid difficulties. Thorny thickets, scrub-covered ridges, steep-sided stony ravines, jumbled together in bewildering confusion were encountered and had to be overcome, and after a time even the cowboy--wiry and tough as rawhide --was beginning to feel the strain. And he knew that his companion must be nearly dead, but he dared not stop; at the best, he reckoned they could only have covered a few miles, and if they had circled ... Daybreak was at hand when the girl finally slumped down on a fallen tree-trunk.

  They had been descending a wide, stony slope covered with prickly scrub and trees. Now, from higher up, came the crack of a rifle and a small cloud of smoke showed against the foliage. Lora clutched her companion's arm.

  "They ain't shootin' at us yet," he reassured. "That pill went over our heads was just an invite to stay an' be catched. We ain't acceptin'."

  "Is it--Hank?" she asked, and when he nodded, added viciously, "You should have killed him."

  "I expect yo're right, but I never did like stickin' pigs." He had been examining their surroundings and his quick eye picked out the place he wanted. "C'mon." Unhurriedly he set out for it, the crest of a ridge, the approach to which was too bare to afford cover for attack.

  Lora followed, the fear of being retaken spurring her, but soon she was lagging behind, and then--when they were no more than half-way--she dropped. Somewhat to her surprise, the puncher came back.

  "I'm sorry, but my limbs won't take me another step," she groaned.

  "That's the worst o' them ornamental legs," he sneered.

  Like the lash of a whip the brutal jeer fetched her to her feet. With fists clenched and teeth clamped she lurched onwards, blind to everything save that she must keep moving. She did not see the pitying eyes of the man who strode beside her. So they came to the foot of the incline and there she collapsed like a pricked bladder.

  Sudden saw that she could do no more. Bending, he lifted her and staggered up the ascent. She was heavier than he had thought, and before long, his already tired muscles were throbbing with the pain of over-exertion. A bullet spat into the ground a few feet away, and, as if the report had awakened her, the girl opened her eyes. When she realized what was happening her head snuggled into his shoulder and her lips parted. Staring straight in front, Sudden plodded doggedly on, and, reaching the top at last, allowed his burden to stand up.

  "Glad to be rid of me, Jim?" she asked archly.

  "I shore am," was the ungallant reply. "Get behind that rock there--these hombres will be sendin' somethin' more than invitations soon." Even as he spoke, another bullet whined over their heads and the puncher laughed as he di
ved behind the outcrop of stone he had pointed out. Another half-dozen shots followed, thudding into the slope in front of them.

  "Hank is gettin' peevish," Sudden grinned. "It ain't goin' to be so simple as he figured." Lora did not reply. Crouched behind their rampart, she was considering her companion. With all her experience of men, she had never met his like. His heartless attitude still rankled though she knew that, save for it, they would probably be in captivity again. But he had carried her up the slope, and at the thought her eyes softened.

  He had dared death rather than break a promise to a friend, and now, facing odds of five or six to one, he joked. She could not fathom him. Hitherto, conquest of the other sex had been so easy as to become almost tiresome. This man was different.

  "I will make him care," she promised herself. "Bring him to his knees, and then--laugh." She watched him, prone on the ground, peering between two chunks of stone, his lean, brown face alight with interest, the keen eyes never still.

  "If I had my rifle I'd make them reptiles hunt their holes mighty rapid," he remarked. His pistol exploded and a man who had incautiously shown himself jumped from his dropping mount and shook a curious fist.

  "Did you--hit one?" she asked.

  "Hell, no," he said disappointedly. "It's too long a range for good pistol-work. Downed his hoss--he'll have to hoof it if he wants to follow us."

  "More walking?" she queried dismally.

  "Shorely, since I can't carry yu that far an' we ain't got wings--yet. If we stay here till dark they'll creep up an' gather us in. 'Sides, we got no water." Both of them were becoming painfully aware of this fact, for the sun, a great golden ball, was now well above the eastern ranges and its rays, though still oblique, were strong enough to cause discomfort. Down in the valleys the purple mists lingered.

  "You might have chosen a shadier place," she pouted.

  "Yeah," he drawled. "Or I mighta told the sun to stay put, like the gent in the Bible, or--" His gun cracked again. "Tally one," he said.