Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 03 - The Marshal of Lawless(1933)

by Oliver Strange

  The pungent smell of burning hair and hide assailed their nostrils. The marshal, watching the half-breed, saw his face pale and then flush.

  “Damnation, Jevons, what’s the meanin’ o’ this?” he shouted, and spurred his horse down the slope.

  Like a flash the two men turned to face him, their hands going to their guns, but they fell away when they saw the rest of the party and stood sullenly waiting. The foreman of the Double S rode forward and looked at the hog-tied steer. His expression was not pretty; that the stolen stock was not his property made no difference; it was in his charge.

  “Don’t need no explanation far as they’s concerned, I reckon,” he said, nodding grimly at the two rustlers. “Mebbe yu got somethin’ to say, Raven?”

  The boss of the 88 whirled upon him. “Why, damn yore eyes, Renton, yu tryin’ to say I know anythin’ ‘bout this?” he asked.

  “They’re yore men, an’ that’s yore brand ourn is bein’ changed to,” the Double S man returned doggedly.

  The marshal interposed. “Take their guns,” he said, and when this was done, “Yu got anythin’ to say, Leeson?”

  “I was obeyin’ orders—my foreman’s,” came the sulky reply.

  “An’ were yu obeyin’ orders too, Jevons?” the marshal asked.

  The man did not reply; his narrowed eyes were fixedly studying Raven, and there was a threat in them. The saloonkeeper was doing some rapid thinking. The only explanation he could make would expose Reuben Sarel as a thief, himself as a receiver of stolen property, and put an end to his hope of gaining Tonia. Moreover, these cows had been taken without Sarel’s knowledge. With callous indifference, he decided that the men must be sacrificed.

  “Yu want to ask these fellas anythin’, Raven?” Green said.

  The half-breed shook his head. “No,” he replied. “When men workin’ for me put my brand on other folks’ cattle, I’m through. Yu can take ‘em in, marshal.”

  “Take ‘em in, hell,” Renton said roughly. “We got ‘em with the goods, Raven, an’ they swing here an’ now; they’s plenty trees.”

  Raven’s shifty glance turned to Green. “Yu can’t allow that, marshal,” he urged. “These men are entitled to trial, anyways.”

  Green detected the design. The accused men were keeping quiet because they relied upon Raven to get them out of the trouble. Taken to Lawless they would be assisted to escape from the flimsy gaol, or acquitted by a packed jury. He determined to force the issue.

  “The case is open an’ shut, Raven,” he said sternly. “There ain’t no doubt whatever. Allasame, I’ll put it to the vote; there’s five of yu—me an’ Pete, bein’ officers, don’t take a hand.”

  The voting was a mere farce, as the marshal knew it would be—all except the saloonkeeper being in favour of the culprits being hanged forthwith. Green directed Pete and Renton to tie the hands of the rustlers behind their backs, a proceeding which brought a look of fear into Leeson’s eyes, and loosened Jevons’s tongue. Convinced that his employer was prepared to let him go to his death he was anxious only to bite back.

  “Raven,” he called sharply, “yu standin’ for this?”

  The saloonkeeper’s face was wooden. “I’ve done all I can,” he said. “Yu know the penalty when yu started stealin’ beef.”

  “Good enough,” the foreman snarled, and turned his mean eves on the marshal. “Yu asked just now if I was doin’ this under orders? Well, I was—orders from my boss, that low-down sneak standin’ there, an’ I can tell you somethin’ else about him too—”

  “Yu lyin’, double-crossin’ cattle-thief!”

  With the hissed words the half-breed’s right hand darted to Andy’s belt, there was a roar and a flash, and Jevons rocked on his feet, sagged at the knees, dropped in. a twisted heap. Twice his fingers clutched convulsively at the sand, the body writhed, and then was still. A moment of awed silence followed, and then Reriton spoke angrily:

  “Yu hadn’t oughta done that, Raven. Looks like yu was scared o’ what he was goin’ to say.”

  The saloonkeeper snapped round. “Who the hell are yu givin’ orders to?” he shouted. “I’ll do as I please, an’ I—”

  “Hand that gun back, pronto,” the marshal cut in, and there was something in the ice-cold, level tones which brought the killer out of his frenzy. He gave Andy the weapon, and when he faced the marshal again all outward traces of his fury had disappeared.

  “Sorry, boys,” he apologized, “but I done a lot for that fella”—he pointed a thumb at the dead man—“an’ to find him stealin’ cattle from my friends an’ trying to drag me into the dirty deal shore got me goin’. I’m admittin’ I was wrong—oughta let him spit out his lies, I s’pose, but I lost my wool.”

  The explanation deceived no one, but had to be accepted. The marshal soon made his arrangements. Renton and his two men were to take their cattle away and the others would return to town.

  “What about that coyote?” asked the Double S foreman, with a nod at Leeson.

  “He goes with me,” Green decided.

  “As well for him,” the cowman said grimly, and then: “I’m combin’ yore ranch, Raven; I ain’t satisfied this bunch is all yu’ve had.”

  The owner of the 88 shot an ugly look at him. “If yu can find any more, take ‘em,” he said evenly.

  On the return journey to Lawless the saloonkeeper led the way, moody and alone; Pete and the prisoner—tied to his horse—followed; the marshal and Bordene brought up the rear. They had not gone far when the deputy, to whom a prolonged silence was purgatory, shot a sly glance at the ruffian riding beside him.

  “Brace up, ol’-timer,” he said. “Things could be wuss, yu know.”

  The prisoner looked at him hatefully. “Feelin’ funny, huh? Well, I ain’t,” he growled.

  “Stretchin’ a fella for doin’ what his foreman told him to do don’t seem to me noways fair.”

  “Shucks! yu ain’t hanged yet,” Pete rejoined. “Come clean, an’ I’m bettin’ the marshal won’t be hard on yu. He ain’t a bad sort, an’ he knows they was on’y usin’ yu.”

  For an instant the man’s cunning little eyes flashed and then, “Dunno nothin’ about it,” he said woodenly.

  Not until they reached town did Raven open his mouth, and then, as he got stiffly down in front of the Red Ace, he said: “Better keep this quiet for a bit—we don’t want no necktie party. See yu later, marshal.”

  Late that evening the marshal and his deputy were in the Red Ace when the proprietor came up and greeted them with dry geniality.

  “Well, Green, yu got any fresh information outa that cur Leeson?” he asked.

  “No, he’s a clam, that fella,” Green replied. “Mebbe he’ll open up when the noose is round his neck.”

  “A rope’s a real persuader,” the other agreed. “Hope you have him safe; he’s got friends in town.”

  “He’s tied, an’ I got all the keys in my pocket,” the marshal told him.

  “Oughta be good enough,” Raven returned, and passed on.

  Green’s glance followed him speculatively. “Pete, I’m bettin’ we’ve lost our prisoner,” he murmured. “He was laughin’ at us.”

  And so it proved. When they reached their quarters it was to find every door locked as they had left it, but the occupant of the cell had vanished.

  “Duplicate keys, an’ o’ course he’d have ‘ern,” the marshal ruefully decided. “Oughta guessed that, Pete; my head must be solid bone, right through. He’s a clever devil. Gets shut of a man who might yap an’ puts me in wrong with the town, damn him.”

  CHAPTER XXII

  The news of the rustling—which could not be concealed for long—with the death of Jevons and the subsequent escape of his companion in the crime, soon faded out in favour of a bigger sensation. The marshal was the first to hear of this, and from the man who produced it.

  Two days after the disappearance of Leeson he met the half-breed emerging from the bank.

  “Just the fella I wa
nted to see,” Raven began. “No, I ain’t seen Potter, but the doc. tell me that he’s still unconscious an’ there can’t be much hope of his comin’ round. It’s about him I’m goin’ to talk to yu.”

  Once more the marshal found himself seated in the little room adjoining the bar. Raven pushed forward a box of cigars, but the visitor preferred to roll himself a cigarette, watching his host the while. The saloonkeeper was too friendly; he appeared to be very pleased with himself, and there was a glint of sneering satisfaction in his foxy eyes.

  “Yu know, o’ course, marshal, that the bank is cleaned complete—there won’t be a peso for anybody?” he began. “It comes mighty near bein’ a knockout blow for the town; a good few citizens have lost all their savin’s an’ some o’ the traders’ll find it hard to carry on. Ain’t that so?”

  “Shore is.”

  “Well, I got a big interest in Lawless an’ I aim to have a bigger one, so it don’t suit me that the better class o’ citizen—the savin’, workin’ kind—should go broke. Likewise, there’s another thing: when Potter first come here he hadn’t much capital. I took a shine to the fella, an’ reckonin’ a bank was wanted, I backed him. It was his lay-out, yu understand—I didn’t have no share, but I lent him money. Oh, I got it back—he’s a square shooter, is Potter—an’ all I stand to lose is what I had there when the robbery took place. So I feel sort responsible, yu savvy?”

  The visitor nodded, wondering where all this was leading to.

  “That bein’ so, I’m goin’ to take over the bank, makin’ good the losses outa my own pocket. If Potter gets well, I’ll hand his business back to him in good shape, an’ he can repay me when he’s able; if he don’t recover, I go on runnin’ it. What yu think o’ the idea?”

  If the saloonkeeper had hoped to surprise the marshal he certainly succeeded; for a moment Green stared at him in frank amazement; somehow, the picture of Seth Raven as a philanthropist would not materialize.

  “It’s certainly a plenty generous proposition,” he said at last. “It shore oughta make yu popular.”

  There was a sardonic touch in the concluding words, and he watched Raven narrowly as he spoke; but the other man was playing his cards close and gave no sign, though inwardly he cursed the marshal for having immediately hit the mark. That individual tried another roving shot.

  “Reckon it’ll be good news for Andy Bordene.”

  Again it failed to produce any outward effect; the half-breed’s sallow face was devoid of expression as he replied:

  “Whatever the books show that the bank owes will be met. I’ve got Potter’s clerk goin’ through ‘em now. It’ll cost a goodish bit, an’ there’ll be some who’ll say I’m on’y lendin’ the money an’ it’ll come back via the Red Ace.”

  When the marshal returned to his office he found Bordene smoking and chatting with Barsay. The latter, quick to note the storm-signals in his, friend’s face, promptly asked a question:

  “What yu got yore ears set back for? The Vulture been tryin’ to bulldoze yu?”

  The marshal grinned widely. “That’s no way to speak to yore boss, an’ it shows a want o’ proper respect for the town’s biggest benefactor,” he replied.

  “How long has Raven been a benefactor?” Andy enquired.

  The marshal told them of the saloonkeeper’s intentions and the eyes of both men bulged.

  “If he does that I’ll have to alter some o’ my ideas about Seth,” Andy commented, a visible relief in his tone. “Durned if I can see why he’s doin’ it though.”

  “It’s plain enough,” the marshal pointed out. “Makes him solid with the town; nobody’s goin’ to accuse him o’ bein’ in on that rustlin’ after this. Don’t vu be glad too soon, Andy; I’ve a hunch there’s a string tied to it far as yo’re concerned.”

  The prediction proved correct. Entering the Red Ace that evening, Andy found the place packed. The news of the saloonkeeper’s intended generosity had spread through Lawless like wildfire, and not only those directly affected, but nearly every other dweller, wanted to see the man who was about to give away thousands of dollars.

  Standing with his back to the bar, the half-breed’s black eyes gleamed with triumph as he received the thanks and homage of the throng. A contemptuous pride filled him and his narrow, warped soul sneered at and despised every one of them. Then came the man he hated most of all, who stood in the way to his cherished ambition. Bordene walked straight up to him.

  “This is a mighty fine thing yo’re doin’, Seth,” he began. “I gotta thank yu.”

  “What for?” asked the half-breed, with unsmiling lips, though his joy was hard to hide; this was the moment he had been lusting for.

  The cold query took the young man aback. “Why, I understand yo’re re-openin’ the bank an’ givin’ every customer the balance held when the robbery took place,” he replied.

  “That’s correct,” Raven said. “I’ve got a list o’ the losses; your account don’t show no balance.”

  “But I gave Potter thirty thousand just before I went after Moraga,” Andy protested. “Yu were there.”

  “I heard yu say somethin’ about it, an’ that’s all,” Raven retorted. “Yu might ‘a’ changed yore mind. Anyways, there’s no record in the books, an’ the clerk knows nothin’ of it.”

  “He warn’t present,” Andy said. “I was in such a tear that I just gave Potter the notes an’ didn’t wait for a receipt or anythin’, Damn it all, Seth, yu don’t think I’d lie to yu?”

  The half-breed shrugged his shoulders. “A man who’s broke’ll do a deal for thirty thousand,” he said insolently, and when he saw the rancher’s jaw tighten, he added, “Mebbe Potter took a chance on yore not comin’ back. All I know is the bank ain’t liable. Another thing, this business is goin’ to cost me a lot, an’ I want that mortgage on the Box B redeemed pretty prompt.”

  “Knowin’ damn well that I can’t do it,” the rancher said angrily.

  “I dunno nothin’ about yore affairs, an’ I ain’t carin’,” the saloonkeeper replied.

  It did not need the hard, merciless tone nor the sneering look to convince the cowman that any appeal would be useless. When he spoke again his voice was low, vibrant :

  “Yu seem to hold the cards, but I reckon the deck was stacked. Whatever you want belongin’ to me yu’ll have to fight for, Raven.”

  For a long moment the two men faced one another, brown eyes clashing with beady black ones. The half-breed was the first to turn away, silently cursing the mother who bore him. He sent a venomous glance after the young man as he left the bar.

  “I’ll make yu pay to the last cent,” he muttered. “I’ll take yore ranch, yore girl, an’ break yore damned heart.”

  But Bordene had spoilt his evening; he could not forget that, for all his popularity, he had once again quailed under the gaze of a hated white.

  Renton’s return to the Double S with the stolen steers and his story of what had happened produced an extraordinary revolution in the mind of Reuben Sarel. Shame at the thought that he had allowed himself to be used by such a man as Raven overrode every other consideration.

  “The dirty dawg oughta be strung up,” he grated, and the foreman was amazed at the savage tone of his usually mild and easy-going manager.

  “Meanin’ Jevons?” he asked.

  “Meanin’ his thievin’ boss, who killed him to close his mouth,” retorted Sarel.

  “Which is my sentiments to a dot,” the foreman agreed. “But thinkin’ an’ provin’ is two different things.”

  Reuben nodded gloomily and Renton left him pacing up and down the veranda. Absorbed in his thoughts, he did not notice that Tonia was watching him with a mischievous smile.

  “So glad you’ve made up your mind to do it at last,” she said.

  Sarel spun round, his fat face flushing. Hang it, had the girl read his thoughts? But the merry, affectionate look told him this could not be.

  “To do what, Tonia?” he asked.

  “Take t
hat exercise you need, of course,” she laughed. “I notice you don’t go far from a chair though.”

  Reuben dropped wearily into a seat. “Quit yore foolin’, girl, an’ sit,” he said. “I got somethin’ serious to tell yu.” There was an awkward pause and then he blurted out, “I’ve been double-crossin’ yu, Tonia. No, don’t say nothin’—just listen.”

  Head down, drooping in his chair, he told the whole sordid story. How he had got deeper and deeper in debt, and, realizing the hopelessness of ever being able to pay, had yielded to his creditor’s crafty offer to take Double S cattle.

  “I was allus meanin’ to pay yu back, lass, but the cussed luck wouldn’t change, an’ I on’y got mired worse’n before,” he pleaded. “An’ with that devil threatenin’ to tell you…”

  His voice tailed away miserably, and he could not look at her. Tonia rose and put an arm round his neck.

  “Yu dear old silly, as if I care a hoot about the stupid cows,” she soothed. “Why didn’t you tell me and save yourself all these months of worry? I suppose that was why you thought that cur would make a good husband for me?”

  “I never thought that, girl, but he had me roped,” Reuben replied. “I knew I’d oughta throw him outa the place, but I ain’t the man yore father was. I’ve been a poor sorta guardian.”

  “You’ve been very good to me,” she said, “and you’re not to think anything different. As for Mister Raven—” she stopped suddenly and her cheeks grew rosy. “Andy’s coming, and he looks as though he’d been washed and hung out to dry.”

  The simile was not inapt, for Bordene sat draped over his saddle, chin on chest. At the ranch-house he got down listlessly, threw the reins, and stepped heavily forward. He appeared a tired and dispirited man, but at the sight of the girl he forced a smile to his drawn lips.

  “Howdy, folks,” he greeted.

  His attempted gaiety did not deceive the girl. “What’s the matter, Andy?” she asked quietly.

  The boy smiled bitterly. “Nothin’ the matter, Tonia, ‘cept we gotta change that job yu were goin’ to give me into one o’ ridin’ for yu.”