“What rubbish vu kids talkin’?” the fat man enquired. “Tryin’ to tell us yu lost yore ranch, Andy?”
“I reckon it amounts to just that,” he replied dully, and went on to tell of Fate’s final blow to his hopes. They had heard of the robbery, but had not known that Andy was deeply affected.
Raven’s bid for popularity was news, and they stared open-eyed at Bordene when he related his conversation with the saloonkeeper. “I paid the money to Potter, an’ what he did with it the Lord on’y knows,” he said in conclusion. “O’ course, I was dumb to hand it to him thataway, but—”
Tonia nodded understandingly, and her look was a caress. “It was because I was in danger, Andy, wasn’t it?” she said. “Since Raven holds your mortgage, it would naturally be inconvenient to hand you the money to redeem it, and he couldn’t play favourites, so I am not surprised there is no record in the bank books.”
The two men looked at her. “That’s sound reasonin’, but could he get at ‘em?” Sarel asked.
“Of course he could—he’d be the first sent for, in the marshal’s absence,” Tonia pointed out. “And, anyway, he could buy the soul of that clerk of Potter’s for a few dollars.”
“I’m bettin’ yo’re right, Tonia, but what can we do?” Andy said. “He’s got the town eatin’ outa his hand now.” The girl smiled at him. “I’m going to pay off your mortgage, Andy; the Double S will be good enough security for that amount.”
“No, I won’t have you involved in this,” the young man protested. “I’d sooner let him have the ranch.”
Sarel slapped his knee in delight. “She’s right, boy,” he cried. “The Box B at twice the sum is a bargain; why shouldn’t Tonia have it instead o’ that schemin’ skunk, huh? On’y point is, where we goin’ to borry that much coin?”
“From the bank at Sweetwater,” Tonia told him. “It’s no use your saying anything, Andy; I am going to beat that beast if it takes every dollar I possess.”
But, as they were soon to learn, their enemy had a card up his sleeve, one powerful enough to shatter their hopes and cast them utterly in the dust.
CHAPTER XXIII
Breakfast was over at the Double S, and Reuben Sarel had climbed into the buckboard and set out to interview the manager of the Sweetwater bank. Tonia, having seen him off, went about her household duties. She was in the midst of a gay little song when a rattle of hoofs outside brought her to the veranda. The song ceased and her face hardened when she saw the lank, stooping figure of the saloonkeeper, head forward, his coat-tails suggesting the wings of the carrion-eating bird to which men likened him.
“Mornin’, Tonia, yo’re lookin’ right peart,” he commenced. “Reub around?”
“My uncle has gone to Sweetwater,” she replied, flushing at the caller’s familiar manner.
“Well, I guess we can get along without him—two’s company, ain’t it?” he said with a smirk, as, not waiting for an invitation, he stepped on the veranda and sat down.
“If your business is with my uncle—” she began.
“Take a seat, Tonia. My business—though I shore wouldn’t call it that—is with yu,” the visitor told her. “An’ I’m bettin’ yu can guess what it is.”
The girl sat down. “I haven’t the remotest idea,” she said.
“I’ve allus understood that a pretty gal is wise when a fella comes a-courtin’,” he leered.
“Courting? You?” Tonia cried. He was right, she had known, but now that the thing had actually happened, the enormity of it staggered her.
“Why not? I ain’t so old,” he urged. “See here, girl, I don’t have the trick o’ pretty speeches, but I’m askin’ yu to marry me. As my wife yu’ll be somebody; I got the dollars.”
“You can leave that entirely out of it,” Tonia said quietly. “For the rest, I don’t like you, Air. Raven, and I am already promised.”
“To Andy Bordene, huh?—the half-wit who, when I say the word, won’t be worth ten cents.”
“And even then preferable to one who makes his money by selling poison to poor fools, cheating at cards, and stealing other folks’ cattle,” she flamed.
The half-breed’s yellow cheeks burned redly at the accusation, and his little eyes were alight with rage as he saw his hopes go glimmering. But she was lovely and desirable even in her anger, and he fought to control the passion that devoured him.
“So yu think I’m a rustler, huh?” he said. “Well, I’ll tell yu somethin’. When I shot Jevons, it was for yore sake. The cattle he was charged with stealin’ were handed over, on the quiet, by yore manager.”
“Nothing of the kind. The cattle were mine, and he had my permission to take them,” she said hotly.
“After he had crawfished, mebbe,” the man said shrewdly. “Shucks! war-talk won’t get us anywheres. What yu gotta understand is that it depends on yu whether Bordene gits another chance.”
To his astonishment she laughed outright. “I am quite aware of it,” was her reply. “That is why Uncle Reuben has gone to Sweetwater.”
The merriment and triumphant tone brought a deeper scowl on the face of the unwelcome suitor, but, to her chagrin, he showed no discomfiture. On the contrary, a wintry smile distorted his thin lips.
“If he’s expectin’ to git a loan at the bank on the Double S he’s due for a disappointment,” he stated.
It was now Tonia’s turn to be surprised. “I don’t know what you mean,” she said.
“Yu will,” he sneered, and added harshly. “Look here, girl, yu’ve been takin’ a middlin’ high hand with me, an’ so far I’ve let you run on the rope. But the rope’s there, an’ it’s time yu took a tumble.” He waved a hand at the range lying before them. “Yu think yu own all this?” he asked, and, when she nodded, “Well, yu don’t, an’ that’s why the Sweetwater bank won’t lend yu money on it.”
“You must be crazy,” Tonia said.
He grinned wolfishly. “Not any.” He drew a paper from his pocket. “This is a deed o’ mortgage on the Double S, executed by yore father shortly afore he—died, an’ given to me as security for sixty thousand dollars lent by me. Look for yourself.”
He held the document out and she saw that he was speaking the truth. For a moment the revelation stunned her and then she rallied.
“That is not my father’s writing.”
“No, Potter drew it up an’ witnessed yore dad’s signature. Nothin’ crooked ‘bout that, huh?”
She could find no answer; the news had hit her like a landslide, sweeping away all hope.
She forced herself to speak:
“Why have you kept silent about this?”
“Didn’t wanta worry yu, Tonia,” he replied, and his voice was less harsh. “Hoped I’d git the Double S in a pleasanter way, an’ tear this up.” He tapped the deed. “I’m still hopin’,” he added.
Tonia drew herself up, and the look that had been her father’s shone in her steady eyes.
“Please remember that I am ‘Tonia’ only to my friends, Mr. Raven,” she reminded. “As for your proposal, why I’d sooner marry a Gila monster.”
The bitter scorn and contempt stung him like a knotted whiplash, rousing the dormant savage in his nature. Leaping to his feet, his face a mask of fury, he poured out a stream of threats and curses, his clenched fist raised as though to strike her.
“Yu damned Jezebel,” he raved, “I’ll tame yu—I’ll lower yore pride. I’ll get—”
“Outta here, if yo’re wise.”
An iron hand seized his collar, shook him like a rat, and flung him backwards so violently that he catapulted over the veranda rail and spread-eagled, face downwards, in the dust. Looking up, he saw the marshal standing above him, a gun in his hand, and death in his eyes. Visiting Renton, he had walked up from the bunk-house and come upon the scene unobserved.
“Fade, yu yellow dawg,” Green rasped, and kicked the man’s hat towards him. “If I catch yu speakin’ to Miss Sarel again I’ll make yu dumb for keeps. Now, climb that br
onc and vamoose; yu don’t improve the scenery, none whatever.”
Seth Raven picked up his hat, dusted himself, and moved towards his mount. For an instant he glanced at the girl as though about to speak, but the marshal was not one to utter idle threats and he thought better of it. Only when he was some hundreds of yards away did he turn and shake a furious fist at them. The marshal grinned as he saw the action.
“Played it safe, didn’t he?” he said. “What’s the coyote been doin’ to upset yu, Miss Sarel?”
“He wants to marry me,” she told him.
“Wish I’d broken his neck,” Green said fervently. “I reckon yu set him back some.”
“I said I’d rather marry a Gila,” she confessed, a glint of a smile lightening her woebegone face.
“Which shorely showed yore good taste,” the marshal laughed. “Well, I’m bettin’ he won’t bother yu no more.” . “But he will—both Andy and myself are in his clutches,” she said miserably, and related the rest of her conversation with Raven. The marshal’s face lengthened.
“That’s bad—that’s awful bad,” he admitted, when he had heard it all. “No reason to doubt the genuineness o’ that paper he showed yu, I s’pose?”
“It looked like Daddy’s signature.”
“Potter is the king-pin,” Green mused. “If he could speak—”
“I’m sorry to have made trouble for you.”
“Don’t yu worry yore head about that. I never was a popular fella anyways. I’m on my way to Sweetwater to see Strade. Keep a-smilin’; Raven ain’t got yore ranch yet.”
She watched him swing up into the saddle with the easy grace of the born horseman, and ride away. Three times this long, lithe puncher, with his slow Southern drawl and level, smiling eyes, had, like a veritable knight of the plains, come to her rescue, and it heartened her to know that he was on her side. Nevertheless,, the future looked bleak enough, and the mere thought of losing the home she loved brought a lump into her throat.
As the marshal rode along the street of Sweetwater a shabby, hard-featured woman came out of a store, and at the sight of him, stood staring.
“Say, mister, who’s that fella?” she asked of a passer-by.
The Parson, for he it was chance had thrown in her way, pulled up and eyed her curiously. “Town marshal o’ Lawless—calls hisself Green,” he replied. “Why, do yu know him?”
“Not by name,” she said. “Over to Texas they used to call him Sudden.”
The passer-by became alert. “The outlaw?” he queried.
The woman nodded. “He had a hard reputation, but I reckon it warn’t deserved; he did me a mighty good turn onct, an’ I’ve heard of others.”
Pardoe thought rapidly. “Unless yu wanta do him a mighty bad turn yu’ll keep mum ‘bout him,” he urged. “It’s all right with me—I ain’t sayin’ a word; but if folks here found out who he is they’d hang him quicker’n scat.”
“My land, mister, I’m obliged to yu for the warnin’,” she said earnestly. “Yu can reckon me dumb, if I am a woman. I wouldn’t have harm come to him through me for all the gold in Mexico; he’s a good fella, say what they like.”
The gambler’s cunning eyes watched her hurry away, and saw the subject of their conversation enter the sheriff’s office. Then he slid into the nearest saloon, bought a drink, and sat down to think things over, keeping a wary eye on the sheriff’s door.
“If I take him in Raven will be tickled to death,” he reasoned. “Make me marshal, likely, and mebbe I’ll find where he cached the plunder.”
The matter satisfactorily decided, he absorbed another drink, and departed by the back door to make the necessary preparations.
The sheriff leaned back in his chair and regarded his visitor thoughtfully. He had just heard the latest news from Lawless, and his frown showed that he did not like it.
“Allus had doubts ‘bout Raven—dunno why—‘count of his mixed blood, I reckon; sooner trust an honest-to-God Injun myself,” he said. “He certainly ‘pears to have them two ranchers roped.”
Green asked an apparently irrelevant question: “Was it ever found out who bumped off Anthony Sarel?”
The sheriff shook his head. “No evidence a-tall,” he replied. “The body warn’t robbed an’ he had no known enemies; Tony was a good fella an’ well liked.”
“Where was Raven at the time?”
“Couldn’t say—no one knowed quite when the killin’ took place. Tony left town ‘bout midday an’ he warn’t found till evenin’, when one o’ his outfit happened on him. Yu don’t think—?”
“I’m shootin’ in the dark; but, holdin’ that mortgage, he had a good reason for wantin’
Sarel out o’ the way, an’ he wasn’t in town when the stage was held up nor when Bordene was bushwhacked. Then there’s the hoss.”
“What hoss?” the sheriff enquired.
Green told of the tracking of Andrew Bordene’s murderer over the Border and back again, and the finding of the hidden black in the little valley. Strade’s eyebrows went up.
“Odd, that,” he admitted. “Near the 88 too. Yu figure that Raven is yore double?”
“Can’t go as far as that, but yu gotta allow that if he’s tryin’ to corral the ranches, Sudden the Second has helped him a whole lot. O’ course, it might be someone workin’ for him. I thought o’ Leeson but he ain’t got the guts, an’ Jevons—wish I knew what he was goin’ to tell us.”
“Five minutes’ talk with Potter would clear the air some, I’m thinkin’.”
“That’s the cussed luck of it—every leak stopped,” the marshal grumbled, and suddenly sat up. “Hell’s bells, he mighta robbed the bank hisself.”
“But he’s returnin’ the money,” the sheriff protested.
“Not Andy’s thirty thousand, the loss of which practically gives Raven the Box B,” Green pointed out. “An’ if Potter was gettin’ dangerous—” He ruminated for a moment. “It was on’y Raven who saw a fella on a black hoss sneakin’ outa town that night.”
The sheriff whistled softly. “Puttin’ her thataway, it seems you might be right,” he agreed.
“But provin’ it is somethin’ else.”
The marshal nodded moodily. “Most o’ them damn fools in Lawless wouldn’t hear a word against him just now. Can yu imagine Raven givin’ money away?”
“He’s gettin’ good value,” Strade said. “He’d sell what he might call his soul for power.
As an Injun, he’d ‘a’ been chief of his tribe, or nothin’; that’s the kind o’ man he is.” Which showed that the sheriff had gauged the saloonkeeper correctly without divining the basic hatred behind his obsession. “Wonder why he made yu marshal?”
“He took it that bein’ down an’ out I’d dance to his tune,” Green replied. “He pretty near said it, an’ mebbe I didn’t contradict him.”
“Yu’ll need to watch out now yu’ve shown yore hand,” Strade warned.
“Yu don’t have to tell me that,” the marshal said grimly. “I saw Jevons die.”
The sheriff held out his hand. “So long, yu blame’ outlaw,” he smiled .“Send when you want me. By the way, there’s a Lawless man here to-day—they call him the ‘Parson.’ Know him?”
“Yeah, tin-horn cardsharp,” Green said scornfully. “He ain’t dangerous—even at poker.”
It would have certainly surprised him to know that the man who was not “dangerous” was even then riding the trail to Lawless, seeking diligently the best place to “hole up” and wait with a levelled gun for the “outlaw” who had, as he believed, despoiled him. He found what he wanted where the trail traversed a tiny hollow, the sides of which were masked by brush sufficiently high and dense to cover both man and mount. Selecting a spot to his liking, the bushwhacker squatted down, his rifle ready, his cold, expectant gaze on the road to Sweetwater.
Half an hour passed and he heard the dull thud of hoofs again; this time there could be no mistake. The big, black horse was moving at a fast lope, his rider sittin
g slackly in the saddle, deep in thought. Now that the moment had come the gambler’s nervousness left him. Planting his feet firmly, he trained his weapon on a point in the trail immediately opposite and when the horseman reached it, fired. The marshal, jarred out of his meditations by the crash of the report and the passage of a slug through his hat, snatched out a gun, drove a bullet into the puff of smoke in the brush, and, realizing the futility of argument, spurred the black. His chance shot, though it did no more than cut a furrow in the bushwhacker’s cheek, disconcerted him so much that by the time he was ready to fire again horse and rider were a diminishing dot on the trail.
“Missed him, my God!” swore the disappointed killer. “An’ he damn near got me too.” He wiped the blood from his face and swore again at the smart. “Have to let Seth handle it, after all,” he went on. “But I ain’t startin’ yet; he’ll mebbe wait for me.”
The marshal had no intention of doing so; he was pushing for Lawless at the best speed the big, knotted muscles of the black could produce. He knew what his chances were against a hidden adversary and was not disposed to take them.
“It ain’t often I play safe, Nig,” he told his horse, “but this is one time, I reckon, when I gotta copper a bet.”
CHAPTER XXIV
Some two hours after the marshal, Pardoe effected an inconspicuous return to Lawless and made his way to the Red Ace. He was tired, for he had not dared to keep to the trail, and a devious route had proved exhausting. Having first peeped in and ascertained that Green was not present, he entered the bar.
“Where’s the boss?” he asked.
“In his room, an’, if yore business ain’t pressin’, I’d postpone it,” Jude told him. “He’s ‘bout as sociable as a grizzly b’ar with the bellyache.”
Pardoe stepped to the door of the office, opened it, and walked in. The saloonkeeper was sitting in the chair behind the desk, chin on his chest. Beneath his frowning brows his narrowed eyes shot a look of anger at the intruder.
“What the hell du yu want?” he growled. “I told that fool out there—”
Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 03 - The Marshal of Lawless(1933) Page 18
