“He kicked me—me, Dick Rodd,” the little man almost screamed. “He dies for that, the..”
He ended with a string of obscenities.
“Why didn’t yu let the gal alone if she didn’t want yu?” the cowboy asked.
“Bah! women are all alike,” came the sneering reply. “They just retreat to draw a fella on. I ain’t the on’y one she’s ”
“You dirty liar,” the teamster stormed.
As though he had been waiting for this further provocation, Rodd rapped out an oath and dragged at his weapon. It was no more than half out of the holster, however, when Sudden spoke again:
“Put that back where it belongs or yu’ll eat yore supper in a hotter place than this.” The cold, passionless tone was pregnant with menace. Still clutching the butt of his gun, Rodd hesitated. Then, when he saw that by some miracle of speed, one of the cowboy’s Colts was covering him, he let his hand drop to his side.
“What damn business is it o’ yores, anyway?” he grumbled. Sudden did not answer. He turned to the teamster. “Can yu use that whip pretty good?” he asked.
“Can I use her?” the man repeated. “Why, stranger, I c’n take a fly off’n the ear o’ my lead ox an’ the critter wouldn’t know.” Boastful as the statement certainly was, Sudden knew it might not be very wide of the truth. The cowboy looked at the smaller man.
“Understand whips?” he questioned.
“Naw,” was the disgusted reply. “I ain’t no perishin’ hayseed.” Sudden pondered for a moment. “He don’t savvy yore weapon an’ yu don’t savvy his,” he said. “It’ll have to be yore gun against his whip.”
“Suits me,” the teamster said, adding grimly. “I’ll have an eye out’n him ‘fore he can wink it.” The second combatant was less prompt in speaking and it was plain he did not like the proposition, though it appeared to be in his favour; he had but to pull and fire his gun before the other struck. But he knew the incredible speed with which the lash would come at him, like a striking ‘snake, and with force sufficient to cut through the tough hide of an ox. If he fired and missed there would be no second shot; he would be cut to ribbons, perhaps—blinded! A shiver shook him, and in that moment he came to a decision; there were safer ways of compassing his revenge.
“I ain’t puffin’ on a man what isn’t `heeled’,” he said sullenly, and turned to where his horse was standing.
“You lousy yeller dawg,” the teamster shouted, and swung his weapon.
Sudden raised a protesting hand. “He’s all o’ that but yu gotta let him go,” he said.
Amid a chorus of jeers the discomfited ruffian climbed to his saddle. The cowboy had a final word for him:
“If any accident happens to our friend here”—he pointed to the teamster—“I’ll be lookin’ for yu,” he warned, adding with a hard smile, “an’ I shall be heeled.” He had to eat with the teamster’s family, his wife, a plump, homely woman, the daughter—cause of all the trouble—a pretty girl with rosy cheeks and a shy smile, and a tow-headed boy of twelve who could not take his eyes off the visitor’s guns.
“Say, mister, you ever wiped anybody out with those?” he presently blurted out.
Sudden’s smile faded. “Do I look like a killer?” he fenced. “I’m allowin’ you don’t,” was the reply. “But if you was riled, I’d step around mighty careful.”
“Shet yore trap,” his father ordered, and, apologetically to his guest, “Dunno what kids is comin’ to; if I’d spoke out like that in company my of man would have had the hide off’n me. So you won’t trail along with us to Oregon?” Sudden shook his head. “I got other plans,” he excused. When he returned to his own outfit, Mason was mildly facetious. “What was it yu forgot?” he inquired, and grinned at his friend’s look of bewilderment. “Yu must ‘a’ gone back to Wayside for somethin’.” Sudden joined in the laugh at his own expense. “Nigger’s a good hoss but he ain’t got wings,” he said. “I’ve been makin’ the acquaintance of yore friend with the barrel-hoop legs.”
“What, Bandy?” Mason asked.
“He certainly is. I never met anyone whose knees were such total strangers.”
“How come?” Sudden told the story in his own whimsical fashion, passing lightly over his part in it, but Gerry was beginning to know this habit of careless indifference.
“An’ he ate crow?” he said incredulously. “I s’pose he ain’t exactly in love with yu?”
“I’m afraid I hurt his feelin’s,” Sudden said, an unrepentant twinkle in his eyes, and then he sobered. “I should ‘a’ warned yu, Gerry, that I’m one o’ 0I’ Man Trouble’s special favourites; yu oughta cut loose from me.”
“Like hell!” came the hearty rejoinder. “I didn’t come West to pick flowers an’—there’s Miss Ducane.” There was a reverence in the boy’s tone as he spoke the name which swept the good-natured jest from the other’s lips. He liked this frank-faced young fellow whose companionship meant much to a lonely, friendless man. For since he had come North, unjustly driven as an outlaw from his own country, Texas, his quixotic search had kept him moving and he could form no ties.
Chapter V
Deadwood! One narrow street, formed by irregular rows of nondescript buildings of the crudest character, the most pretentious of which were constructed of unbarked logs or roughly sawn boards; a few boasted two storeys, others had the false front so prevalent in frontier settlements, but for the most part the shack and dug-out predominated.
At a first glance the town appeared to consist almost entirely of saloons and gambling dives, with a few stores intermingled, but closer inspection revealed hotels, boarding and eating-houses. Plank sidewalks protected the pedestrian from the roadway—if the almost knee-deep strip of dust, which after rain became a morass of mud—could be so-called. Stumps of trees, boulders, and piles of lumber impeded progress and testified to the feverish haste to which the place owed its being.
The population was as varied as the architecture. Men of every colour, white, yellow, bronze and black, thronged the sidewalks; blue-shirted, bare-throated, bearded miners, their homespun trousers thrust into the tops of their boots, gaily-sashed Mexicans, slant-eyed Chinamen, and occasionally, a plumed Indian, wrapped in his gaudy blanket, dignified, aloof, unreadable. In the road itself, wagons drawn by patient-eyed oxen and piloted by perspiring, vitriolic-tongued drivers ploughed up clouds of fine dust to the extreme discomfort of passers-by.
Overhead, in a pale blue sky, the sun blazed.
Into this welter of humanity the newcomers plunged and were at once submerged.
Sudden and his friend arrived at one end of the street and Gerry prepared to dismount at the first saloon.
“That can wait,” Sudden said. “First we gotta find out where we live.” Having left their mounts at a livery stable, they emerged into the street again in time to witness a curious scene. A bent old man, clad in a shabby black coat, was retreating before a group of young roughs who were pelting him with stones and refuse. There was something of dignity in the victim’s silence, but Sudden caught a look of appeal in the dark eyes.
“What’s the old fella done?” he asked a red-headed youth who appeared to be the ringleader.
“How long you bin peace-officer?” came the impudent retort, shot over a shoulder.
Sudden’s long arm reached out and swung the speaker round. “I ain’t,” he said quietly, “but when I ask a civil question I expect the same sort o’ answer.” Red-hair’s hand had gone to his waistband, where the butt of a gun protruded, but fell away when he saw the type of man he had to deal with. This cold-eyed person who wore two weapons might be a cowpuncher, gunman, or both, and in any case, did not look easy. He decided to temporize.
“Dunno as he’s done anythin’,” he replied surlily. “He’s a Jew, that’s what.”
“Which is no crime in a free country,” the puncher said. “What’s the penalty for hein’ a cowardly coyote pup?” The contemptuous question, deliberately insulting, upset the young ruffian’s
poise, and his face became as red as his hair. He did not know what to do; this sarcastic, confident stranger, little older than himself in mere years but twice his age in experience, had him “buffaloed.” The shamed bully looked round at his following and for a few tense seconds the issue hung in the balance. But Gerry had been whispering to the nearest of the gang, the word had passed round, and with no more than ugly glares they slouched away. Red-hair, the last to leave, alone found his tongue.
“I’m rememberin’ this,” he snarled.
“Yo’re gettin’ sense a’ready,” Sudden complimented.
The old man, who had watched the scene with inscrutable eyes, now came forward. “My friends, I thank you,” he said, voice and manner entirely out of keeping with the shabby attire.
“Those young devils have made life a burden to me for weeks past.”
“I reckon they won’t trouble yu again, seh,” Sudden smiled.
“You certainly gave them a lesson, but I fear they will transfer their enmity to you,” the other replied. “Ridicule is a bitter pill for youth to swallow.” Sudden laughed and looked at his friend. “Shucks, I figure we can take care of ourselves.” The old man’s eyes swept over them approvingly. “I do not doubt it, given fair play,” he agreed, “but this is the toughest town of the many I have known. You are strangers here; is there any way I can help you?”
“We got in this afternoon an’ we’re wonderin’ where we can bed down,” Mason explained.
“The settlement is choke-full—newcomers will have to build shelter or camp out.
Fortunately 1 can offer you a roof, though little else. My hut is larger than a single man needs, and there is a small corral at the rear–you have horses, of course?”
“We left them at the livery,” Sudden said. “Couldn’t get along without the broncs.”
“I know,” the old man smiled. “Almost the last thing a cowboy parts with—except his life. Well, what do you say?”
“We’re mighty obliged,” Sudden told him, adding awkwardly, “We ain’t exactly broke, yu understand.”
“I’m not offering you charity—you will have to keep yourselves, no light task in Deadwood. The room is of no use to me. I ought perhaps to point out that you will be living with one who is poorly regarded.”
“Popularity never appealed to me,” Sudden assured him, a tinge of bitterness in his tone.
“We’ll go yu, Mister ?”
“You may call me ‘Jacob’,” their new friend supplemented. “Deadwood dubbed me a Jew, and, for reasons of my own, I have not refuted it, though 1 am not a member of that persecuted race.” At his suggestion they collected the horses and made their way to the far end of the settlement. Jacob’s dwelling proved to be the last of the buildings, standing some two hundred yards from the others.
It was a log cabin, strongly but roughly put together, and consisted of three rooms. A table and two stools comprised the furniture of the one at their disposal. Their host apologized for the absence of beds.
“Don’t say a word,” Mason grinned. “We got blankets an’ fetched our own fleas.” Having turned their horses into the poled enclosure at the back of the cabin, they sallied forth to the nearest store for supplies. The prices they had to pay made them open their eyes.
“Hell, Jim, we don’t want no gold-mine, let’s open a store?” Gerry suggested.
“What with—an axe?” Sudden queried. “Allasame, livin’ is goin’ to come high in this neck o’ the woods; yu’ll have to hobble yore appetite.”
“My appetite? What about your’n?” Gerry cried indignantly.
“I’m a pore eater,” Sudden told him.
“My Gawd! then I must be damn near starvation point. C’mon, let’s see if the liquor is cheaper.” He led the way to one of the saloons, pushed back the swing-door, and swaggered in—modesty on such occasions is not a cowboy virtue. It was a garish place, bedecked with gaudy gilt mirrors and crudely painted but sufficiently daring pictures. A polished bar, with an array of bottles and glasses occupied the back of the room, and there were tables and stools.
The table they chose commanded a good view of both bar and entrance. “They’s a han’some lot, I don’t believe,” Gerry commented.
“Yu weren’t expectin’ angels, were yu? Talkin’ o’ them, there’s Snowy.”
“Huh! Yu won’t find no wings sproutin’ on his back.” The prospector, who was alone, came up and greeted them shrilly. “Hello, boys, been lookin’ for you. Take a smile.” When the drinks had been procured, he sat down, beamed upon them, and asked, “Where you stayin’?”
Sudden told him they had secured a lodging but gave no ,particulars other than the position.
“Yo’re lucky,” the old man remarked. “Most o’ them that come in with us’ll be sleepin’ under the sky an’ if it storms quick—as it can in these parts—they’ll have a pore time.” ’
“Yu an’ yo’re niece fixed up all right?” Mason inquired.
“You better believe we are,” Snowy chuckled. “Paul had it all arranged. He’s a clever fella—he don’t deny it himself. We’re roomin’ at the best private house in the town, owned by Miss Lesurge.”
“His wife?” Gerry cried.
“Miss Lesurge, I said,” Snowy repeated. “His sister an’ a fine lady, I’m tellin’ you. Say, ain’t this one hell of a township?. Takes me back mighty near thirty year. Well, gotta go. Stay around, boys, an’ watch my smoke. Don’t tell Paul I seen you. Savvy?” He bustled away, leaving both his companions frowning, but for different reasons; Sudden in perplexity, Mason in anger.
“Damn funny,” the former reflected aloud.
His friend snorted. “Yu got a twisted sense o’ humour if yu see anythin’ amusin’ in a nice girl like that bein’ at the mercy of a crook,” he said savagely.
“She’s with her uncle.”
“An addle-pated soak.”
“Also Miss Lesurge.” Gerry’s report did not flatter the lady.
They procured a meal at an eating-house and Sudden soon became aware that, for some reason, he was attracting attention; men stared at him and looked away at once when hecaught them in the act. He remarked on the fact to his companion.
“Anythin’ the matter with my face?” Gerry studied it. “Nothin’ more than usual,” he pronounced. “O’ course, these folks ain’t used to it like I am.” The voice of young Welder checked the inevitable retort.
“Hi, cowboys, how’re you makin’ it?” he greeted. He laughed foolishly, lighted a cigarette after several attempts and, as he turned to go, added, “Saw Lesurge armin’ Miss Ducane up the street a while back; they made a han’some couple.” That night when, rolled in their blankets, they were lying on their beds of spruced boughs, Sudden was aware of smothered explosions of mirth from the other side of the room.
“What’s the joke, yu jackass?” he inquired.
There was no answer, but the merriment increased. “They made a han’some couple,” the puncher said softly. The laughter ceased instantly, and Sudden grinned in to the gloom, turned over and went to sleep.
Chapter VI
In a little gully, the banks of which were studded with pine and spruce trees, a black-bearded, red-shirted miner was busily digging, whistling a merry tune the while. This ceased suddenly and he looked up with a scowl as the visitors—whose approach he had not heard—pulled up. When he saw the two cowboys, however, his expression at once became amiable. Sudden, whose quick eye had noted the change and caught the swift glance at the rifle leaning against a bush, concluded that the man had mistaken them for redskins.
“Mornin’, friend?” he said. “We ain’t aimin’ to nose in, but not bein’ much up to this gold-gettin’ game we thought watchin’ yu might give us a pointer.” The man now saw the pick, shovel and pan tied to the cantles of their saddles, unaccustomed burdens to which their mounts had at first offered spirited objections. He grinned understandingly.
“New chums, huh?” he replied. “Well, there’s nothin’ to it, if the
dust is around, any fool c’n find it; if it ain’t, the cleverest can’t. Washin’ the dirt is me tricky bit; must be a lot o’ waste thataway.” He threw a spadeful of the sandy soil into his pan, nearly filled it with water from a rill which was only a few yards distant, and squatting down began to stir the mixture slowly with one hand, at each revolution deftly flicking a small quantity of the muddy liquid out of the vessel. He continued the process until only a little of the water remained, poured this carefully away, and eagerly scanned the bottom of the pan. His expression when he looked up was one of chagrin.
“Not even `colour’,” he said, thus intimating that his experiment had produced no sign of the precious metal. “Well, gents, that’s the way of it, but I’m advisin’ you not to fool about with thisyer gully—she’s no good.” Wishing him better luck, they rode on, and when they had lost sight of him, Sudden said, “Watch out for g likely place an’ we’ll try for some nuggets.”
“But that hombre said it was a bum place,” Gerry protested. “Shore he did,” Sudden smiled. “But he didn’t slam that pan down an’ was careful to put it where we couldn’t get a peep at it. I’ll bet he’s workin’ like sixty this moment.” The spot they selected was a short way up one wall of the gully, a sandy space shaded by trees and shrubs, with a tiny rivulet of clear water passing through it. For hours they dug and washed but not one speck of yellow rewarded their efforts and at length Gerry dropped the pan and glared round balefully at the holes which now disfigured the little plateau.
“Coupla perishin’ good gophers we are, I’m tellin’ yu,” he said. “We oughta dig two big ones, crawl in, an’ pull ‘em in after us. That jasper was right.”
“Shucks, a fella don’t allus get his cow first flip o’ the rope,” Sudden consoled, his gaze on the silver streak of water sliding and jumping down the bank a few yards away. “Ever hear of a ‘flume’?”
“Sorta wooden trough for washin’ dirt, ain’t it? Snowy used to talk of ‘em,” Mason replied. “We don’t have one.”
“They have cross-bars to catch the gold—they call ‘em `riffles,’ ” his friend went on reflectively. “That trickle o’ water is a natural flume, it’s cut a channel for itself down the slope, an’ there’s yore riffle.” He pointed to where a ledge of rock formed a miniature waterfall. “She’s worth a trial.” Straddling the stream, he scooped up handfuls of sand from above the obstruction into the pan, and began to wash it. Neither of them was as yet expert in manipulating the muddy mess, much of which was distributed over their own persons, but at length only a sprinkling of sand remained and after one glance Gerry flung back his head. Sudden clapped a wet and gritty hand over his mouth just in time to stifle the shrill cowboy yell of triumph.
Sudden Gold-Seeker(1937) Page 4
