Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 07 - Sudden Rides Again(1938)

by Oliver Strange

  “Drinkin’ alone is a poor kind o’ pastime,” the customer said genially, and when the other had helped himself, added, “Got a bed for me tonight?”

  “Guess I can fix it,” was the reply. “Seen you with the Chief. New chum, huh?”

  “Yu might call it that,” the cowboy agreed. “So yu were there? It warn’t a pretty sight, but a fella who doublecrosses his pals don’t deserve pity.”

  “You said it. Pedro got what he shorely asked for.”

  They drank again, and Sudden, having dumped his belongings in his bedroom, went out. Turning westwards, he discovered that the street narrowed again to a mere defile closed by a gate similar to that by which he had entered. He stopped short of it, and retraced his steps. A little beyond the saloon, on the opposite side, the sound of sobs arrested him. Acting upon an impulse, he stole along a burrow-like passage outside which he had halted. It led to one of the primitive caves, and there he found the woman, Anita, on her knees by some scattered blankets. Two stools, and a few tattered cooking utensils comprised all the furniture. She looked up as he entered, and said dully: “What now? Haven’t you done enough?”

  “Somebody seemed to be in trouble,” Sudden replied. “I thought mebbe I could help.”

  “Help?” she repeated harshly. “From one who wears the Devil’s trade-mark? Can you bring the dead back to life, you who stood by and laughed as he died?”

  “Yu got me wrong, ma’am,” he said gently. “I ain’t much given to laughin’ an’ doin’s like that shore don’t amuse me. I couldn’t stop it—they’d got the goods on him.”

  She hesitated, her tear-drenched eyes still suspicious. “It’s true,” she murmured at length. “That hell-dog knows everything—he has a spirit. Even at this moment maybe—”

  “Shucks ! he’s no more’n an ornery human bein’—a mighty ornery one at that. He’s got spies an’ I’m bettin’ he pays ‘em well. Go an’ tell him what I’ve said an’ make yore peace.”

  Her eyes flashed. “After what he did? I would die first,” she cried passionately. “Wasn’t it enough to take life without …?”

  She broke down, but he gradually learned the story. They had brought the dead man to his wretched abode, and when she had begged them to let her bury the body, had hurled it headlong through the opening which provided light and ventilation, with the cruel gibe that the coyotes would save her the trouble. Sudden looked out; more than a hundred feet below he could see the tossing tops of trees above the undergrowth. Satan had spoken truly; there was indeed room in the graveyard.

  “Mebbe I can find an’ bury him for yu,” he said.

  She stared at him, wonderingly. “Stranger, if you’ll do that, I—”

  “Shucks,” he interrupted hastily, and beat a retreat. Getting his horse, he rode to the western gate, which the man in charge opened without demur. For a mile the wagon-track rose and fell, swinging round then where it dipped down into the valley which the bandit town overlooked. Thrusting through the thick brush along the foot of the cliff he arrived near the place where he judged the body must fall. Presently he found it—a shapeless heap in a patch of tall grass. He had no implement to dig a hole but there was a convenient crevice and in this he laid the poor broken frame, piling heavy stones to defend it from desecration. Then, with his knife, he carved a rude cross to mark the spot.

  Night was nigh when he again entered the town, and in the shadows opposite the saloon, saw the woman waiting. He told her what he had done and the drooping figure straightened.

  “So, I have only to avenge him,” she said, and her low voice was venomous. It softened again as-she continued, “Stranger, in this den of wild beasts it is good to have a friend; remember you can count on one who will not forget what she owes you.”

  “Why, I ain’t done nothin’,” he protested.

  “You think not? Yet if that murderer learns of it he will treat the pair of us as he did Pedro.”

  “We won’t tell him,” Sudden smiled. “Adios.”

  He swung his horse over towards the corral, and when he had vanished in the gloom, Anita returned to the hovel she called home. Sinking down on the pile of rugs, she shook her head in perplexity.

  “Why is he here?” she asked herself. “He’s not like the rest.” She had heard he was a gunman, renowned in the West, and he looked it, but there was a cleanness, a self-reliance, and lack of bluster which made him stand out among the criminals and outcasts who found a refuge in Hell City. The thought that this stranger was no admirer of the man she had vowed vengeance upon brought a tigerish smile to her lips.

  Sudden’s appearance in the saloon earned him no more than a glance or two; a new face was a common occurrence, and his was not even that. Some two dozen men were present, playing cards, dicing, or drinking at the bar. Among the latter was Muley, who seemed to be the chief attraction. He was evidently proud of his morning’s performance and could speak of nothing else, his one grievance being that it had not lasted longer.

  “You hit too hard,” one of the group round him remarked.

  “Hard?” bellowed Muley. “Why, I hadn’t mor’n begun to stroke him when he goes an’ dies on me. I’m tellin’ you, the Chief’s gittin’ poor stuff these days; calls theirselves men an’ ain’t got the guts of a louse.”

  His malignant gaze travelled round the room, rested for an instant on the puncher, and passed on to a youth sitting alone on a stool at the end of the bar. Sudden had already noticed him and speculated as to what boyish escapade had brought him there. With a wink to his companions, the flogger lurched across, and said roughly: “What’s yore name, you?”

  The lad looked at him with drink-bemused eyes. “Ben Holt,” he replied, adding, “I on’y come in to-day.”

  “Well, if that ain’t good news. The rule is for newcomers to set up drinks for the crowd. What about it?”

  Ben Holt laughed dismally. “Yo’re too late, mister, I’m near busted,” he explained. “If I’d knowed earlier … “

  The bully growled an oath, and swinging his right arm struck the boy a flat-handed blow on the side of his head which swept him to the floor. Then he seated himself on the vacant stool, and with an impudent grin at Sudden, said: “That’s what we do to fresh fellas who don’t pay their footin’.”

  All eyes were on the puncher as he stepped unhurriedly forward. “I’m a fresh fella, an’ I’m not buyin’. So what?”

  For ten tense seconds, Muley stared into the grey-blue eyes of the man who had called his bluff, seeking a way out. The other found it for him.

  “Yu yaller dawg,” he grated. “If I’d a whip yu should have a taste of yore own medicine, but as it is …”

  His hand rose and fell, landing on the fellow’s bloated cheek with such force as to send him sprawling. Lying in the dirt, spitting out inarticulate curses, he clawed feebly at the gun he dared not draw. Covert grins were on the faces of most of the onlookers—a bully has few friends in the day of discomfiture. Sudden took no further notice of him, but went to the boy, who had got up and was watching the scene with wide eyes.

  “A mouthful o’ fresh air won’t do yu no harm,” he said, and led the way to the door.

  Outside the corral the puncher paused, ostensibly to make a cigarette, but actually to give his companion time to shake off the fumes of the spirit he had imbibed. The cool cleanness of the night appeared to bring him out of the semi-dazed state. Sudden surveyed him sardonically.

  “I’m guessin’ yu an liquor ain’t very well acquainted,” he remarked. “Drownin’ yore sorrows is a poor way—the blame things can anus swim.”

  The boy made a desperate attempt to smile. “I expect yo’re right,” he said. “But you were drinkin’ too.”

  “I was takin’ a drink. To sit there lappin’ ‘em up one after the other is somethin’ different. What brought yu here?”

  It was a common enough tale. A gambling debt he could not pay, an attempt to get the money dishonestly which failed, and he was outside the law.

 
“The sheriff an’ his men was hot on our trail an’ we lined out for here. They got the other two, but I made it. I most wish I hadn’t,” he finished miserably.

  “That’s no way to talk,” Sudden told him. “Keep yore chin up an’ stay away from liquor an’ cards. When did yu lose that posse?”

  “Two days back, ‘bout forty mile off,” was the reply. “I rode in the water some.”

  “Good for yu. I’m bettin’ they’ve turned tail.”

  Holt remembered something. “I’m thankin’ you,” he said shyly.

  “Don’t yu. That windbag was aimin’ at me. So long.”

  Purely as a matter of policy, the puncher returned to the saloon, the owner of which greeted him with a grin.

  “He’s went,” he said. “Got the face-ache, I figure; that was a daddy of a wallop you give him.” He lowered his voice. “Don’t forget that anythin’ goes in this man’s town.”

  Sudden realized that the warning was well-meant. “I’m obliged, friend,” he smiled. “Right now, bed goes for me.”

  Lying on his blankets in the darkness he turned over the day’s doings. He had put two people under an obligation, and had made another enemy; the latter troubled him not at all. His examination of the place had only convinced him of its strength. As for its ruler … It seemed incredible that Kenneth Keith could be father to such a son.

  “He’s a throw-back,” Sudden mused. “The 01’ Man musta had a pirut ancestor, one o’ the bloodthirsty kind that made prisoners walk the plank just to amuse hisself, though that would be too tame for this fella.”

  Satisfied with this solution, he went to sleep. In the morning he idled about, studying the life in this human warren. It was a peaceful enough scene. Men, and a few women, sunning themselves in the open, or chatting in groups outside the store or the saloon; it might have been any one of a hundred frontier settlements he had seen. Once, a hard-eyed rider galloped in, scattering dust and dogs in all directions, to disappear into the Chief’s abode. He encountered the woman, Anita, but she went by without a glance. Then he ran into Holt, and saw that something was troubling him.

  “Head bad?” he asked.

  “Feels like it had been split open with an axe an’ joined wrong,” the boy said ruefully. “But that ain’t anythin’.” He hesitated a moment and then blurted out, “I tried to git away this mornin’, but the fella at the gate said I had to have a permit.”

  The puncher shook his head. “It ain’t that easy. Better stay an’ lay for a chance. Mebbe I’ll be able to help yu.”

  In the afternoon he went to see the Chief. He found Miss Dalroy there, and would have retired, but the masked man stayed him.

  “Come in,” he said. “You know Belle, I believe.”

  “We met at a very fortunate moment—for me,” the girl smiled, her fine eyes dwelling on the lithe, athletic form of the visitor. “I owe you a great deal, Mister Sudden.”

  “My name is Green, ma’am,” he corrected stiffly, “an’ yu don’t owe me nothin’.”

  “Well, I give in about the name,” she replied. “For the rest, I shall—”

  “I take the debt upon myself, Belle,” Satan interrupted, and to the cowboy, “So you didn’t avail yourself of Silver’s hospital?”

  “I like to sleep near my hoss,” Sudden replied curtly. “And you occupied your time antagonizing another of your comrades,” the cold voice continued. “Was that wise?”

  “He was tryin’ to run a blazer on me, an’ I don’t stand for that—from anyone.”

  The belligerent tone and very obvious challenge brought the merest ghost of a smile to the straight lips beneath the mask, an effect the speaker did not expect.

  “I’m goin’ back to the Double K tonight,” he announced.

  Sudden saw the man’s fists tighten, but, furious as the bandit was at this slighting of his authority, he showed no other sign.

  “The great gunman is already weary of us,” he said mockingly to the girl. “We can only hope that he will return soon—and stay longer.”

  Though the cowboy sensed the threat his expression was blank. “Shore I’ll be back,” he said, and added a clumsy compliment, “Hell City ain’t so much, but if it’s good enough for Miss Dalroy …”

  He bowed to the lady, nodded to the man, and swaggered out. For a space there was silence, and then Satan remarked, “That fellow has much to learn.”

  The woman shivered; the words were commonplace, but the tone in which they were spoken made them sound like a death sentence. With what seemed uncanny power, he read her thought.

  “Feeling sorry for him, Belle?”

  The start of surprise told him he had guessed correctly, but her reply was contradictory. With a disdainful shrug she said: “Not very, but naturally, I’m grateful.”

  Dusk was falling when Sudden set out for the Double K. As he neared the gate of the town, a hooded figure stopped him; it was Belle Dalroy.

  “I’ve been waiting to tell you just one thing,” she whispered hurriedly. “Don’t come back—ever.”

  “Why, ma’am, it’s right kind o’ yu, but I’m afraid that ain’t possible,” Sudden told her. “Yu see—”

  “That you are one of those self-satisfied folk on whom a warning is wasted, yes,” she finished cuttingly. “Very well, I can do no more.”

  She turned swiftly and was lost in the growing darkness. The puncher rode slowly on, wondering.

  Chapter XIV

  When he reached the Double K, Sudden rode straight to the ranch-house. Through the french windows of the living-room he could see that Keith had visitors—Martin Merry and Lagley. The girl was not present. The eyes of the men opened wide when the cowboy tapped on the window and walked in. Instantly three guns covered him.

  “What the devil are you doing here?” his employer rapped out. “Talk fast, and keep your hands still.”

  It was Sudden’s turn to look astonished. “I’m here to report, seh,” he said simply.

  “And you brought your nerve with you,” the Colonel retorted. “Having got the herd hidden I suppose you could be spared?”

  “I’m in the dark, seh,” the puncher said patiently.

  “Really? So it will be news that our northern range was raided last night and over one hundred head driven off, together with as many Twin Diamond steers?”

  “It certainly is.”

  “Yu an’ Frosty have bin roustin’ out an’ bunchin’ cattle on that boundary,” Lagley remarked.

  “At yore orders.”

  “So yu knowed where to find ‘em.”

  Sudden’s eyes narrowed. “Yu tryin’ to tell me I stole the stock?” he asked.

  “Just that,” the foreman replied. “Lyin’ about it won’t buy yu nothin’. Yu were seen—that white blaze on yore black is plenty unusual.”

  “Who saw me?”

  “Several o’ the boys—yore side-kick, Frosty, among ‘em.”

  “Their sight must be good, me bein’ in—”

  “Red Rock, was yu about to say?” Lagley sneered. “We happen to know yu never went near there.”

  “That was a stall,” Sudden explained. “I told the Colonel I was goin’ to Hell City.”

  “On my business, but it seems to have been on his own,” Keith said acridly. “He deceived me.”

  “I’ll say he did,” the foreman cried exultantly. “Gives him a chance to pull off the rustlin’ an’ if he’s seen there, yu can’t chirp—he’s workin’ for yu. Damned smart, I gotta hand it to yu, Sudden; the on’y mistake yu made was usin’ yore own hoss. I guess that fixes yu, good an’ proper.”

  He looked expectantly at his companions. Merry slowly shook his head. “It looks like yu might be right, Lagley, but I hate to find myself mistaken in a man,” he said. “What yu goin’ to do, Ken?”

  “Hang him at sunrise,” was the stern reply. “A rope’s the only remedy for rustling. Take his guns, Steve, and shoot if he makes a move.”

  Sudden’s brain was busy. The rancher’s threat was no empty
one, and to allow himself to be taken meant a shameful death; there would be no mercy for a man who had helped to rob his own range. Only a single chance remained, desperate, but he must take it. Three of them would be firing at him, but…

  Silent, with arms hanging loosely from drooping shoulders as though overwhelmed by the catastrophe which had overtaken him, he waited until the foreman moved to do his master’s bidding. Then his left hand flashed to his belt and a bullet shattered the hanging light, plunging the room into darkness. Three spits of flame followed, but the fugitive had instantly dropped to hands and knees, dived for the window, and disappeared amid a shower of broken glass. When the three reached the verandah, the diminishing drum of pounding hooves apprised them that they were too late. An excited group of half-clad men came surging from the bunkhouse, and Lagley was yelling to them to get their guns and horses when Keith stopped him.

  “Don’t be seven sorts of a damned fool,” he said savagely. “you had him covered, in the light, and he got away. Fine chance you’d have in the dark. Tell the men to turn in, and do the same.”

  When the foreman had gone, Merry turned to his host. “I’m just as pleased he made it. It’s true things looked bad, but I can size up a fella with most, an’ I’m bettin’ there’s an explanation.”

  “There is always that for the lunatic willing to believe it. Better put him on your pay-roll.”

  “I will, if he shows up,” Martin grinned. “He’s worth three o’ yore foreman.”

  “Steve’s stupid, but he’s honest,” Keith replied.

  “Mebbe, but he ain’t the man he used to be, an’ I’d have no opening for him at the Twin Diamond,” Martin said. “Hullo, here’s Miss Joan come to see which of us she’s gotta weep over.”

  The girl, wrapped in a great-coat, and carrying a candle, was standing in the wrecked window. Keith explained what had happened.

  “I don’t believe that Green would steal cattle,” she said. Merry burst out laughing and slapped his friend on the shoulder. “Two to one against yu, ol’-timer; yo’re outvoted,” he cried.