The dwarf nodded and hurried away, but when the door was between them he shook a menacing fist at it. Incapable as his brutish senses were of finer feelings, he remembered Anita’s gleaming shoulders and hated the man who would have made them hideous.
His exit was followed by the entrance of Belle Dalroy. Throwing her gloves and quirt on the table, she dropped into a chair and crossed her legs, fully conscious that her short riding-skirt displayed her shapely limbs to advantage.
“Heavens, but it’s hot outside,” she said, and then, “What’s the matter, Jeff? You look as though you’d lost a dollar and picked up a dime.”
The unwinking gaze travelled over her from head to foot. She was a pretty woman, even more than that, in her own style, but the man was comparing her with another and found her lacking.
“So you have been to Dugout?” he remarked, ignoring her question.
She started. “Who—?” she began, and laughed. “Of course, it would be reported to you.”
“You might have turned off the trail,” he pointed out, and bent his head, thinking. “It comes dimly to me; you met someone from the Double K ranch.”
This time he certainly scored. “It is true,” she admitted. “I saw the Keith girl, in the store, and she sailed past as though I wasn’t there.”
Satan smiled. “She probably knows of our—friendship,” he said. “And if she still cares for me …” He noted the tiny crease between her brows. “I haven’t seen her for some time,” he lied. “She should be quite pretty.”
The girl guessed his game—he had played it before; cruelty in any form was an amusement to him.
“She is beautiful,” Belle said with studied indifference. “Now that you have disinherited yourself the ranch will go to her, I suppose? Is it a good one?”
“You could ride for two days in any direction and find none to equal it.”
“And you threw it away rather than marry her.”
“I prefer to choose my own wife.” His lips curled maliciously. “It was a mistake, no doubt, but mistakes can be rectified.”
His meaning was plain enough, and despite her effort to control herself, a flush of anger stained her cheeks.
“You don’t exactly despise yourself, do you, Jeff?” she said. “You think, with your record, that she would take you?”
“Love is all-powerful,” he mocked. “It will find a way, and it forgives.”
“Someday I may remind you of that,” she replied, and picking up her things, left him to his reflections.
That they were not of the pleasantest was evident from his expression. The loss of the man whose dead body would slam the door on Satan the bandit and leave Lafe Lander a free, wealthy, and unsuspected citizen had been a shrewd blow. Either he must get Keith back, or … Already in that cunning, unscrupulous brain another desperate design, bred of his conversation with Belle Dalroy, was taking shape.
At the Twin Diamond ranch Keith found that he had but moved to another prison; he dared not show himself. The outfit knew there was a visitor whose presence must not be spoken of, but—except the cook—no one saw him. He spent his time reading, and gazing hungrily out over the range. The rancher was shocked at the change two years had wrought: the gay, high-spirited youth he remembered had become a moody man, silent for the most part, brooding over the perilous position in which he was placed. The information he gleaned from Merry only served to deepen his gloom as he realized the net of infamy from which he had yet to escape.
“Who is this cowboy—Jim, you called him—and why is he fighting Hell City if my father fired him?” he asked.
Merry told what he knew of Sudden. “He figures Satan framed him in that cattle raid an’ aims to get even,” he finished.
“Five hundred head and thirty thousand cash would settle his debt, you’d think, yet he goes back to that hornets’ nest,” Keith said thoughtfully. “What more does he want?”
“That red-masked devil’s hair,” Merry replied grimly. “Jim’s a good payer. Frosty told me that years gone he promised a dyin’ man he’d bring to book a couple o’ human skunks. He’s still searchin’, but I don’t reckon he’ll ever meet up with ‘em.” (The rancher was wrong, and the story of the finding has been recorded in another place)) “If that’s the kind o’ hairpin he is, I’d hate to have him on my trail.”
For a day or so, the prisoner bore his confinement with what patience he might, but on the third morning he stopped the rancher as he was going out, and said abruptly: “Mart, I want a pony,” and when his host hesitated, added passionately, “I’m not running away, but if you’d been cooped up in a cave for nigh two years wouldn’t you want to sling a leg over a horse and feel the spring of him under you?”
The appeal was too much for a man who almost lived in the saddle—the rancher gave in. “But for your own sake, ride south,” he warned. “The Double K boys is mighty nervous o’ strangers these times an’ liable to shoot first an’ enquire after.”
“I’ll keep out of sight,” Keith promised.
Nevertheless, an hour later, when he loped away from the ranch-house, an irresistible magnet drew him towards the Double K range. The short, crisp grass sliding beneath his horse’s feet, the aromatic tang of the sage in his nostrils, the wide expanse with the purple hills on the far horizon, the rush of warm air on his cheeks as he gathered speed sent a thrill of new life through his veins. Heedlessly he rode on, exulting in the freedom he had lacked so long. Presently familiar landmarks warned him that he was actually on his father’s land.
Greedily his eager gaze swept over the miles of open plain, rising and falling like the rolling billows of a greenish-brown sea dotted with timbered islands. It was a view to delight the heart of a cattleman. And he had thrown it away, exiled himself to become a homeless, hunted man!
Suddenly mindful of his promise, he was about to retreat when another actor appeared on the scene. From behind a large clump of cactus and thorn came a racing pony, carrying a woman. Hatless, rocking in the saddle, she appeared to be trying to halt the beast but without avail; a dangling strip of leather told the reason—a rein had snapped. Keith swore; he recognized that slim, swaying figure and saw that the maddened horse was heading for what the cowboys called the Glue-pot, a quaking morass from the clammy clutch of which there was no escape.
A rake of the spurs sent his mount hurtling forward in an attempt to intercept the runaway, and he cursed again as he found no lariat on his saddle-horn. Yard by yard the distance between the animals lessened until at length they were galloping side by side. Leaning over, the young man grabbed the sound rein, wound it round his wrist, and slackened pace. The double rawhide thong stood the strain and slowly but surely the steady drag brought the girl’s pony to a standstill.
For one panting moment, Keith looked at her, noting the sun-kissed lovely face, framed in wind-tossed curls, the parted red lips, and the lissom grace of her youth. Here was something else he had thrown away, something—and the realization of it overwhelmed him—worth more than anything in the whole universe.
“You?” she cried, and cuttingly, “What have you done with your mask?”
“I have never worn such a thing,” he said quietly. “Is that true?”
“Lying was not one of my faults, Joan,”
“Then you cannot be—”
“The boss of Hell City, as my father believes,” he finished bitterly.
“As we all believed,” she corrected gently. “Even I, who spoke with him.”
“When was this?” he asked sharply.
She told him, and saw his jaw harden as he listened. “Changed as you seemed, I could not doubt,” she ended. “He must know you well.”
“He has yet to know me better,” Keith promised. “At present, I cannot move; my hands are tied.” He anticipated her question. “I am wanted for the shooting of young Dealtry at Red Rock.”
“Oh, Jeff,” she breathed. “You couldn’t have …”
“I don’t know,” he said miserably. “We’d
had words, and I was drunk.” He did not spare himself. “I can’t remember what happened that night. Lander said I did it, and I could not contradict him. He got me away into hiding. I’ve been buried alive, Joan, and knew nothing of the foul reputation being foisted upon me. Hell, what a mess I’ve made of everything.”
Her eyes were moist. “It will come right, Jeff,” she comforted. “This will be great news for Daddy Ken—he’ll help you. He has been terribly hurt, and that has made him hard, but—”
“He must not be told—yet,” he broke in. “I got into the mire and must get out. Promise to keep silent, Joan, or I will ride out of the country and never return.”
She smiled, albeit a little sadly. This was the old Jeff, dominant, who always got his own way by just such a means when they played together as children. She must give in—it was no empty threat. What had been boastfulness in the boy had become resolution in the man.
“Very well,” she said. “Have you any plans?”
“No, I’m rather relying on that cowboy, Green, who took me out of Hell City. A strange fellow; I don’t quite know what to make of him.”
“Trust a woman’s intuition and make him a friend, Jeff,” she advised. “He has my confidence.”
“I’d accept the Devil himself with that backing,” he smiled, and slid from his saddle. “Reckon that bridle wants fixing.” Busy with the task, he spared a moment to glance up at her. “By Christmas, it’s good to see you again, Joan, and you’re prettier than ever, which I wouldn’t have believed possible,” he blurted out.
A telltale flush suffused the girl’s cheeks. She shook a finger at him. “Attend to your job, sir,” she said, and then, “I have not thanked you for saving, perhaps, my life; this feather-brain was running straight for that horrible swamp.”
“You don’t ever have to thank me for anything,” Keith said earnestly. “How comes it that you’ve nothing better than this half-broke beast to ride?”
She stroked the animal’s neck. “He’s not bad, just young, inexperienced, and apt to have notions—” She stopped at the sight of his rueful face. “Oh, I shouldn’t have said that, Jeff, but I was thinking only of the horse, truly I was.”
“Never mind. I deserve all that’s coming to me. What happened?”
“A road-runner got up under our feet, raced on fifty yards or so and then looked round and waited, with the usual insulting, challenging air. Of course, an older horse would have taken no notice, but this greenhorn has visions of trampling that impudent bird in the dust. As a lesson, I let him try for a while, but the runner was always two or three jumps ahead and travelling easily. Then I saw we were heading for trouble, tried to pull up, and the rein gave.”
“It’s all right now,” he said, and mounted again.
She asked where he was staying, and laughed when—forgetting the brand on his pony—he teasingly told her it was a secret.
“Give my love to Mart,” she said.
“Hi, don’t you be too free with it,” he retorted. “One of these days some fellow will come along and want it all. Maybe you’ll be riding this way again?”
“Maybe I will,” she smiled.
He grasped the outstretched hand, stooped swiftly, and pressed his lips to it. She blushed anew as she murmured: “The same impulsive Jeff.”
“No, not the same,” he cried. “Changed in every way—but one.”
Abruptly he swung his horse round and spurred it across the plain. For a space she watched him and then turned homeward, a prayer on her lips, a song in her heart.
Chapter XXI
“Shore yu wasn’t abroad yestiddy mornin’?” Lagley asked. “I have said so,” Satan replied. “Why?”
“Fancied I saw yu, talkin’ to Joan Keith, out on our range,” the foreman explained. “The fella looked like yu, but he warn’t masked nor ridin’ a black.”
“Was that all you could see?”
“Couldn’t git close—it’s pretty open round there, but he kissed her hand when they parted.”
Fire flashed in the stony eyes for an instant. There was a brief silence and then Satan said harshly: “Does the Colonel still pay his visit to Dugout?”
“Shore, he’s due there tomorrow mornin’,” Lagley’s expression was one of unease. “What yu aimin’ to do—Jeff?”
The familiar address produced a glare which made him regret it. “When I wish you to know anything, I shall tell you—Judas,” came the searing answer.
Lagley left, hating the man who never lost an opportunity of humiliating him, and cursing the day he had put himself in his power.
“His tongue’s wuss’n his dad’s, blast him,” he raged. “But once he’s in the saddle at the Double K he’ll have to tower his tone some, or …”
As he reached the street, he cannoned into a tall figure, and stepped quickly back when the half-light revealed the saturnine features of Sudden.
“Well, if it ain’t my of friend, Lagley,” the puncher exclaimed.”Cut names out, yu fool,” the foreman said hastily.
The other stiffened. “Yu cut that sort o’ name out, too,” he rasped. “yu ain’t my foreman now, an’ it sticks in my mind that the last time we met yu wanted to hang me.”
The retort made Lagley uncomfortable. He remembered the lightning speed of this man’s draw at their first meeting, the passing of Butch, and that they were in a lawless place.
“Hell, I had to obey orders,” he said. “I was meanin’ to fix it so yu could slide out durin’ the night, but yu took charge.”
“Yu bet I did—it was my neck,” Sudden rejoined. “Mebbe the next world is better, but I ain’t honin’ to find out. Say, it was damn funny ‘bout them cows; the Twin Diamond put one over on yu there, an’ twisted Satan’s tail for him good an’ proper.”
He had not troubled to lower his voice and the Double K man’s perturbation was plain to see.
“For Gawd’s sake, dry up,” he urged. “He’ll hear yu.”
A guttural voice from the doorway interrupted: “Hey, Sudden, the Chief sez for you to come in when you’ve finished chin-waggin’.”
“Damnation, what did I tell yu?” Lagley said.
The puncher laughed. “If he could hear us he’d ‘a’ gone on listenin’. Toddle back to the Double K an’ be good, Steve; yu ain’t got the nerve for this game.”
Without waiting for a reply, he followed Silver, who was waiting for him at the door. The bandit’s first question did not surprise him.
“What were you saying to Lagley?”
“Complimentin’ him on havin’ neighbours smart enough to fetch his cattle back for him,” Sudden grinned.
“It amuses you to lose a considerable sum of money, eh?”
“The fella who can laugh at his losses will win out in the end,” was the philosophical reply.
“A pretty sentiment, no doubt,” Satan sneered, “but one can get tired of laughing. When are you going to justify your presence in Hell City?”
“I rustled the herd—yu told me so yoreself, an’ yu can’t blame me for losin’ ‘em again,” Sudden retorted impudently. “An’ I got Butch for yu.”
“For yourself—to save your own life,” came the correction. “Where is Lander?”
The puncher’s face lost its jaunty expression. “I dunno,” he confessed. “Can’t pick up a trace of him nohow; I reckon he’s flew the coop.”
The bandit made a negative gesture. “A stranger was seen on the Double K range yesterday, talking with Joan Keith.”
Sudden’s surprise was genuine. “The devil!” he said. “But he wouldn’t know her, would he?”
“No, but they might have met by chance,” Satan replied. “You must bring him back. If you fail to do this…”
He did not finish, but the relentless tone conveyed the unspoken threat. Sudden went out, apparently a chastened and thoughtful man. He left the bandit still brooding over the story Lagley had told.
“It couldn’t have been Jeff—he would not dare speak to her,” he argued. “And yet �
�”
A vision of Joan as he had last seen her, the slim figure appearing to be part of the pony she bestrode and her lovely face rosy with indignation aroused by his attempted caress, came to torment him. Until that meeting, he had coveted the Double K range only, but then was born desire for the girl who would one day own it, and though he had not seen her since, that desire had become such an overwhelming passion that the very thought of another kissing even her finger-tips moved him almost to madness.
“She may still care for him, in spite of all,” he said violently. “Well, friend Jeff, I’ll plaster something on you which will turn love to loathing, an act so vile that the hand of every man must be against you, and women will shudder at your name. With the whole country raised, you’ll be glad to sneak back into the only place where you can lie hidden—Hell City. Then, the game will be in my hands.”
For long he stood, gazing into the deepening darkness, while the plot which would give him, not only the girl for whom he lusted, but wealth and power, framed itself in his cold-blooded brain. One factor only was lacking, and he cursed the cowboy who had deprived him of it.
“Jeff will be hack, on his knees,” he told himself. “After tomorrow.”
Notwithstanding his somewhat autocratic attitude towards his fellow-man, Colonel Keith was popular in Dugout. That he was just and generous compensated for the keenness of his tongue and as the owner of the largest ranch in the vicinity, his custom was an important consideration to a small community. So his weekly visit was a welcome event and had become a matter of routine. Always there was someone waiting to hitch his horse outside Black Sam’s, but with the Colonel, business came first : the several tradesmen had to be visited, orders given, and the invariable invitation to drink the rancher’s health extended.
On this particular morning, the final stage of the ritual had been reached and the cattleman was with his guests in the saloon. Standing there, straight as a young pine, he made an imposing figure in his full-skirted black coat, spotless linen shirt and trousers, and polished riding-boots. His aristocratic, rather severe features were softened by a smile as he grasped the julep Sam had mixed, and listened to the little speech Jansen was making. It was always the same.
Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 07 - Sudden Rides Again(1938) Page 19
