Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 06 - Sudden Gold-Seeker(1937)

by Oliver Strange

  “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 tonight.

  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 dived 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.

  “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 be 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 yoù 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 been 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.