Sudden Goldseeker (1937) s-3

by Oliver Strange

  "What do you mean?" she asked.

  "Just a term we use brandin' cattle," he explained. "Right now it signifies we got one less bandit to bother about." Callous as she herself could be, Lora shivered. Then she remembered that the speaker was fighting for his life, and for her. His next remark gave her something else to think about.

  "Hell! Here they come." Either the loss had exasperated the attackers or they realized that a bold policy only was likely to he successful, for they suddenly burst from the brush and raced towards the ridge, yelling and shouting. There were five of them.

  Sudden, on his knees, both guns out, waited until they were half-way, and then, with inconceivable rapidity, the hammers rose and fell, sending out a staccato stream of crashes like a roll of thunder. Two of the ponies went down and the rider of one lay still; the second lighted on his feet, to turn and bolt before that death-storm of lead. The other three, one of whom was swaying in his saddle, promptly followed his example. Sudden watched till he saw them far up the hill.

  "They've skedaddled," he said.

  Lora rose and looked down the slope. The dead man, grotesquely sprawled in the sunshine, and the two horses, wereall she saw. One of the animals was making futile efforts to stand up. The cowboy fired and the poor brute sank down. The seemingly wanton act jarred her frayed nerves.

  "Haven't you shed enough blood?" she asked bitingly.

  He looked at her levelly. "I'm fond o' horses. That one had a broken leg. Have yu ever seen how buzzards treat a wounded beast? They pick out the eyes first "

  "Don't tell me," she almost screamed. "Let us go." They set out and presently found a stream where they drank and bathed their scratched faces and hands. The water, ice-cold from the mountains, seemed to steady the girl. She was obviously worn out, but she made no complaint, and he could not but admire her courage. Several times she refused his proffered help, but once, on the bank of a shallow creek, she hesitated. Without a word, he swept her up into his arms and carried her over.

  "No wonder they call you `Sudden'," she said breathlessly as he put her down again.

  "They don't--if they like me," he returned harshly.

  They fell into a silence which endured until he called a halt and went to climb a hillock which would give him a wider view of the country.

  "Hearney's Peak is over there," he said, pointing. "Deadwood can't be so far away; we should make it before night. Yu can sleep for an hour. They say, 'He who sleeps, dines.' " As obedient as a child, she curled herself up on a carpet of dry leaves and closed her eyes. Sudden lighted a cigarette and sat down to keep watch. Lying there, one soft cheek pillowed on a palm, she looked very lovely despite her torn garments and untended hair, but the man gave her one thought only--"As dangerous to handle as a rattler," and fell to studying the --to him--more interesting problem of her brother.

  When they resumed the journey it was patent that the rest had done her good.

  Peering into a stream she caught the reflection of herself. "Heavens! what a sight I am," she ejaculated.

  "I like yu better this way," he said bluntly, and got a quick smile of thanks.

  Night was falling when, at long last, they reached the top of the gulch and saw the blurred string of lights which marked the town below. Both were terribly footsore, and the woman was so completely exhausted that her companion had almost to carry her. By keeping behind the buildings and so avoiding the street, they managed to reach her dwelling unobserved. Spent as he was, he would not go in.

  "It ain't far to Jacob's an' the sooner yu hit yore blankets, the better," he excused.

  "I feel I can sleep a week," she confessed.

  "Forty winks won't be no use to me either," he grinned. "Jim, you've been splendid," she whispered.

  "Aw, forget it," he said uncomfortably. "Yu pulled yore weight--an' more."

  "I'll always remember," she said in a low voice. "Good night --partner." How he managed the final stage of the journey Sudden never quite knew. Gerry told him afterwards that he stumbled in, wolfed a meal, gave them a brief account of his adventures, and flinging himself on his bed, slept like a dead man.

  "We didn't know whether yu was drunk or dreamin'," he said. "An' we didn't care neither."

  Chapter XIV

  When Sudden awoke in the morning his first impression was that the events of the previous day had been a nightmare, for his hands were still bound. Then he realized that he was in his own room and that it was full of men, one of whom--a giant known as "Husky" Miller--was shaking him roughly by the shoulder and telling him to get up. In the background he could see Gerry, struggling savagely with two burly fellows who were each gripping an arm. Jacob was not there. The hard, scowling faces cleared his sleep-befogged brain.

  "What's the trouble?" he asked.

  "No trouble a-tall--it's goin' to be a pleasure," was the grim retort, and some of the men laughed. "Aimin' to walk or have we gotta tote you?"

  "What do yu want with me?" the puncher asked quietly. "They're intendin' to hang yu, Jim," Gerry oroke in. "Yo're accused o' murderin' miners while yu were away."

  "I've been held prisoner in the hills the whole time," Sudden said. "Don't I get a hearin'?"

  "Where's the need?" Husky rejoined. "Why, you're wearin' the very duds you did the deeds in, an' your black's out in the corral."

  "An' has oeen there the whole while Jim was absent," Gerry protested.

  "Shut yore face," another man said angrily. "I dunno as you ain't in with him; we oughta string up the pair of you." Sudden stood up. "Keep outa this, Gerry," he said, and to Husky, "Once before yu nearly hanged an innocent man. Yo're goin' to do the same again. I can prove my story if yu give me time...."

  "To git yore friends to lie for you, like yore pardner did," chimed in a vicious voice which somehow seemed familiar.

  Sudden looked at the speaker--youngish, black-jowled, with a cast in one eye which lent his features a peculiarly malignant expression, but he could not place him. The sneer evoked a chorus of approval.

  "Git on with the job--we're wasting time," said one. "Yeah, an' time's money an' I'm busted," added another, at which there was a guffaw.

  Unable to resist, the prisoner found himself being hustled into the open. He had seen mob law at work and knew that, convinced of his guilt, he was doomed unless some miracle happened. A yell of execration from the hundreds who had been unable to get into the cabin, greeted his appearance and men scrambled for points of vantage to see him, though he must have been a familiar figure to most of them. Down the street he was marched until a teamster's wagon barred the way.

  "Take yore beasts out, friend," Husky said. "We're borryin' yore wagon for a while."

  "What you want with it?" the fellow asked.

  "Aimin' to stretch this hombre's neck," the miner replied, jerking a thumb at the condemned. "Got no time to build a gallows." Willing hands helped to unyoke the oxen and up-end the pole. Then Husky turned to the puncher.

  "Got anythin' to say?" he asked.

  * * On the morning after her return, Lora was alone in the parlour with her brother, for, too prostrated even to eat, she had gone straight to bed on reaching home. The relation of her experience brought a look of bewilderment to his face.

  "Who the devil can these men be?" he asked. "And what did they want with you?"

  "I don't know, but their leader threatened to torture me to make Green tell," she replied.

  "Snowy keeps his tongue too well oiled," Paul said angrily. "The man who took you was dressed like Green and rode a black. Are you sure it was not Green?"

  "Naturally," she said sarcastically, "since the cowboy was tied up in camp when I arrived with my captor."

  "Settles that, of course," he admitted. "You can't describe this fellow--Hank?" She shook her head. "Medium height and build, with a throaty voice which may have been due to the handkerchief over his mouth."

  "So, when you escaped, you spent the night in the woods with Green?"

  "Certainly, there being no alterna
tive save the outlaws."

  "Did he make love to you?" She laughed disdainfully. "My dear Paul, no man makes love to me without my permission. He conducted himself like a gentleman."

  "Which was a disappointment, no doubt?" The gibe sent the blood into her cheeks. Looking him directly in the face, she said fiercely: "Yes." Though he did not believe it, the defiant manner made him sorry he had hurt her. He began to say so, but she shrugged an impatient shoulder.

  "It doesn't matter," she said. "You resemble Snowy, only your tongue is too well ground. Is there any news?"

  "Some more miners have been killed and robbed by a man in cowboy clothes, riding a black horse." Her eyes went wide. "Why, that must have been he--the man who nearly strangled me. I heard a shot just before I saw him."

  "The miners are taking it pretty hard." A deep-throated bellow, like distant thunder, came to their ears.

  "What on earth is that?" Lora wondered.

  Snowy, flinging open the door, answered the question:

  "Hey, Paul, the town's gone mad. They've got Green an' are goin' to string him up right now; they claim he's the prowlin' skunk who's been wipin"em out." Lora's face went deathly white. "My God, we must do something, Paul," she cried. "He's innocent--and useful," she added, noting the odd look in his eyes.

  "Certainly we must," he said, "but there's no need for you to figure in it--yet."

  "I'm coming with you," she stated. "I owe him that, at least. Besides, it will put him under an obligation."

  "You gotta hurry, there ain't a second to lose," Snowy urged.

  Just as they reached the outskirts of the crowd, Wild Billstrode up. The gunman's usually placid face was set and stern. "Make way, friends," he said quietly.

  The outer fringe of the gathering consisted largely of men who, not being miners, were merely there out of curiosity, and when they saw from whom the request came, they made way readily enough. Paul and his companions followed on Hickok's heels. As they neared the wagon, progress became more difficult. Lowering looks on all sides greeted them, and then came a flat refusal.

  "If yo're gamblin' on a rescue, Bill, you'll lose out," growled a beetle-browed miner, one of several barring their path. "If you ain't, well, they'll be jerkin' him up in two-three minutes an' you'll git as good a view as the rest of us."

  "I never ask twice," Hickok said.

  He made no hostile movement, the ivory-handled guns remained in their holsters, his voice was not raised, but the threat was there, and they knew well enough it was no empty one; he would shoot them down; the rest of the mob could overwhelm and tear him to bits, but that would not put the breath back into their bodies. Sullenly they pressed aside, permitting the gunman and those with him to reach the wagon.

  Sudden, standing under the upraised pole, with the noose already round his neck, was waiting for the word which would for him spell the beginning of eternity. His hard young face was devoid of expression save for the eyes, scornful and defiant, staring fixedly at the man who would give the fatal sign. This was Husky, and he had begun to raise a hand when Hickok sprang on to the wagon. But at the sight of the pistol-barrel nudging the new-corner's hip and pointing directly to himself, the miner's arm dropped nervelessly. A savage howl of protest greeted the gunman's intervention, to die away in low, angry muttering when Husky spoke:

  "See here, Bill, when was you app'inted marshal o' Deadwood?"

  "About the same time yu were made hangman," Hickok retorted. "Take that rope off; yu've got the wrong fella." Husky looked uneasy. "Can you prove it?" he asked.

  "Yes, an' if I couldn't yu'd do what I say or die before he did," Wild Bill snapped.

  "Yo're takin' a high hand," the miner grumbled. "There's others have a say in this." He raised his voice. "Am I to turn him loose, boys?" A babel of expostulation followed the question. "Turn him off, not loose," one wit shouted, and the phrase was taken up and repeated. Mingled with it were invitations to Hickok to mind his own business, and to try a warmer climate. "Go ahead, Husky; we're behind you," others cried.

  Erect on the wagon, the object of this outburst listened with an expression of cold contempt. At the last piece of encouragement, however, a wisp of a smile broke the straight lines of his lips. He knew that was Husky's trouble; had he been behind he would have shouted as boldly as the best, but stopping the first bullet was something different.

  "Yo're a plucky lot, ain't yu?" he said. "Hundreds of yu to hang a man without givin' him a chance to speak."

  "That ain't so--he's said his piece," Husky corrected. "Claims he was carried off by a gang an' held in the hills somewheres. Sounds likely, don't it?" Lora Lesurge stepped to Hickok's side. "It may not sound likely, sir, but it happens to be true," she said, in a clear, reaching voice. "As many of you know, I too have been `lost' for some days. I was set upon, half-throttled, and carried off by a man attired as a cowboy mounted on a black pony. He took me to a kind of camp, where I found Mister Green, bound hand and foot, when I arrived. He did not leave until we got away."

  "How fur is thisyer camp, an' where?" Husky asked, with an air of disbelief.

  "I have no idea," she replied. "It took us a day to get back to Deadwood, but we started in the dark, and did not know the direction. Also, it was rough country and I fear I am a poor walker."

  "You were with Green allatime?" a voice inquired sneeringly.

  "I have said so," she returned, her face white and cold as marble. "Mister Green told me they had taken his hat, chaps and guns. He could not understand why, but it is clear enough now." Husky scratched his head. "He's wearin' 'em," he said, and she had to explain how Sudden had regained his property.

  The sneering voice from the middle of the throng spoke again.

  "Oh, she's got it all pat, or-timer. I told you his friends would lie him out of it." Wild Bill's narrow eyes swept the gathering. "Who said that?" he thundered. "Let him step forward; I'd like to see him." There was no response; evidently the speaker had no desire to gratify the gunman's curiosity. Wild Bill looked at Husky. "Well?" he said impatiently.

  The miner made a last effort. "Why didn't you tell us 'bout Miss Lesurge?" he asked the prisoner.

  "Why the devil should I?" the puncher retorted. "It was none o' yore business." The man grimaced. "I'm allowin' it was yore neck," he said. "An' yu wouldn't have listened either," Sudden told him. "Yu ain't believin' it now."

  "He'd better," Hickok exploded. "Husky, do I have to tell yu again to set Green free?" The man removed the rope. "I guess we'll hold him till we search out that camp," he said.

  Wild Bill boiled over. "I--guess--yu--will--not," he grated. "Cut those bonds an' be damned quick about it." He drew himself up and surveyed the swarm of upturned, sullen faces. "Is there anyone here who wants to call this lady a liar?" he demanded. Silence followed the challenge, and he turned sardonically to the miner. "Yu 'pear to be the on'y one," he said. "Now, get this; Green won't run away; if he does, yu can swing me in his stead." There was a laugh at this. With the mercurial quality of a mob, many of those present now believed in the innocence of the accused. Hickok's reputation as straight was generally conceded, Paul Lesurge was a figure in the town, and the Westerner--rough as he might he--was usually chivalrous to any women.

  Without waiting for a reply, the gunman jumped lightly from the vehicle and stretching up his long arms, swung the lady to the ground, and bowed to her, hat in hand.

  "I compliment yu on yore courage, ma'am," he said.

  "Coming from you I must even believe it, sir," she smiled, and turned to greet the cowboy, her face grave again.

  "I don't know whether to thank or scold you," she began. "By good fortune we came in time--it would have been a horrible memory ... Why didn't you tell them about me?"

  "It wouldn't have helped," he told her. "Things looked bad; friend Hank had it figured pretty neat." Lesurge joined them. "Green, I owe you a great deal for getting my sister out of that mess," he said, but there was no cordiality in his tone.

  "I was gettin' m
yself out," the cowboy replied, "an' Miss Lesurge has more'n evened the score." The lady shook her head. "My part was easy." At this moment Gerry appeared, with Rogers and his partners, all carrying rifles. The young man whooped when he saw his friend.

  "Saw I couldn't do nothin' so I slipped away to round up the boys," he explained. "Hoped we'd be in time to try some-thin'."

  "I'm obliged," Sudden said gravely. "Thanks to Miss Lesurge an' Mister Hickok ..."

  "She turned the trick," the gunman cut in, with an admiring glance at Lora. "I should have failed but for her testimony. All I did was to make 'em listen, an' I'm very glad yore friend Jacob routed me out."

  "I wondered where the of boy had gone," Gerry remarked. "He vanished when they collared yu." Snowy sidled up to the puncher. "I've heard how you wouldn't split about the mine, Jim," he whispered. "I'm not forgettin' that."

  "Yeah," Sudden smiled, "an' I rememberin' that if yu hadn't fetched Miss Lesurge my friends would now be tellin' each other what a good fella I was." When Paul and his sister had gone, Hickok turned to the others and said, "I don't use liquor much, but Bizet fixes a mint-julep that pleases even me. Let's irrigate." The little Frenchman welcomed them with a broad smile, but wagged a finger at Sudden. "My fren', fortune she is fickle; one time she will fail you."

  "I've been sayin' the same, Bizet," Wild Bill said. "He's playin' his luck too hard." And to the cowboy, "Yu remember what I told yu?"

  "Yu said for me to keep clear o' the women," Sudden grinned. "An' a woman has saved me." The big man laughed. "That's a score to yu, but I'm repeatin' the advice," he said. "Someone is after yore ha'r; who is it?"

  "Yu can search me," the cowboy replied.

  In truth, he was puzzled. Paul Lesurge was antagonistic, he knew, and might have contrived the kidnapping in order to steal the mine from under Snowy's nose, but his men would not have touched Lora. The faintly familiar voice in the crowd recurred to him; it had reminded him of Hank. It was probable that he and his men had come to Deadwood, since they would have to leave their hide-out in the hills. This latter proved to be the case, for when Husky and his companions found the place, it was deserted. On their way back, following Sudden's directions, they came across the skeletons of a man and two horses in front of the ridge where the cowboy had made his stand. The big miner was game enough to come and apologize.