"So yu nailed one," he said.
"He's on'y stunned--the hoss got the lead. Take charge of him. I'm goin' after his mate." He had marked down the spot where the fugitive had disappeared, and for a little while, hoofprints--the deep ones of urgent haste--helped him, and then, as he came on harder ground, a dangling, freshly-broken branch pointed the way. But no more of these tell-tale signs presented themselves, until, circling round, he found the prints again, only to lose them on the bank of a creek, thickly fringed with willow and cottonwood.
Arguing that the man would go westwards, he followed the stream in that direction, and was presently confronted by an insurmountable barrier, a wall of rock nearly thirty feet in height, over which the water cascaded in a broad sheet which the sun turned to molten silver. Trees hemmed in the fall, and for some distance from the wall, the ground was weathered stone, a surface upon which to search for tracks could only be a waste of time. In ordinary circumstances, the marshal would have admired the natural beauty of the spot, but now he surveyed it with disgust.
"Hang the luck," he muttered. "A cat couldn't climb up there, an' it's a hell of long way round, seemin'ly. Mebbe we can persuade the other jasper to talk." Convinced that he could do no more, he returned to Dave. The prisoner, who had regained consciousness, was squatting on the ground, weaponless, his elbows neatly trussed with his own rope.
"Most unsocial beggar I ever met up with," the deputy remarked. "Won't give no name, so I've christened him Pock-mark.' His hoss is unbranded, an' there's nothin' suspicious 'bout him 'cept his looks an'--this."
"A straight-iron, huh?" the marshal said. "Well, that's enough to hang him. Yu'd best find yore tongue, fella."
"What right you got to down my bronc an' tie me up?" the stranger demanded.
Sudden flipped open his vest, disclosing the badge. "Plenty," he replied. " 'Specially as yu opened the ball by tryin' to bump us off. What's yore business around here?" Receiving no reply, he added, "P'r'aps the Bar O can loosen your lips." Fear flickered in the sullen eyes, but the said lips were only clamped the tighter.
"Why bother Owen when there's a mort o' good trees right here?" Dave asked, with studied callousness. "S'pose we feed an' think it over?" Sitting a little apart, so that their conversation could not be heard, they began the meal the Widow had provided. The prisoner watched enviously.
"Don't I eat?" he asked querulously.
"Yu gotta find another use for yore mouth first," the marshal replied.
"An' remember that dyin' on an empty stomach is a mighty dangerous thing to do," Dave supplemented.
His solicitude earned him only a scowl. They finished eating, smoked a cigarette, and made a start, the prisoner walking between the riders. The sun's rays had now become shafts of fire, and since their way led across the open range, there was no respite for man or beast. Mile after mile through the blinding heat the man on foot stumbled doggedly until they had covered two-thirds of the journey, and then he dropped like a stone.
"I'm all in," he gasped, through parched, cracked lips. "Have a swig at this," Dave said, passing his water-bottle.
The sufferer drank eagerly, and after sitting for a while, stood up. Rustler or no, he was possessed of a stubborn determination, and Sudden--who had forced this ordeal upon him in the hope of breaking down his obstinacy--began to doubt its success. Fists and teeth clenched, eyes half-shut, and body limp with fatigue, the tortured man dragged one blistered foot after the other until at length the Bar O building came in sight. A hail brought the owner, Reddy, and some of the outfit.
"'Lo, marshal, what you got there?" Owen asked.
Sudden explained, and the rancher's face grew dark. "Good," he said, and turned to the prisoner. "What you gotta say?"
"Nothin'."
"Right. You've till sunrise; if you ain't opened up hy then, you swing. Lock him up, Reddy."
"Yu think he'll squeal?" Sudden asked. "That tramp would 'a' busted the nerve o' most; he's tough."
"A hemp rope is tougher," the rancher replied. "Pity the other got away."
"He certainly chose the right place," the marshal admitted, and described it.
"Ah, the Silver Mane fall, plenty o' hidin' there."
"He would 'a' tried to pot me."
"That's so. Well, I dunno how he got clear; that barrier --which we call The Step--runs for a mile or more each side o' the stream, an' she's straight up, 'cept at the south end."
"What's back of it?"
"Sort of plateau, with some biggish cracks. The Step is my western boundary; past it is Dumh-bell range, but they don't use it, the feed bein' poor." When they got up to go, the cattleman pressed them to stay the night, but Sudden shook his head.
"Gotta make a show o' earnin' our pay," he smiled.
On the way back, the marshal was unusually silent. In truth, his mind was far away on the Mexican Border. There, too, what appeared to be a simple case of cattle-rustling, had uncovered a deep-laid plot to steal a range, and he was wondering ...
Chapter IX
THE marshal and his assistant were enjoying an after-breakfast smoke when a pony scuttered to a stop outside and the Bar O foreman strode in. He had not shaved, and his customary cheerful expression was missing. Dropping into a seat, he began to construct a cigarette.
"He's gone," he announced, and added a fervent wish as to the delinquent's ultimate destination. "Helped hisself to a hoss--one o' my string, blister his hide."
"But " both the hearers began.
"Listen," he interrupted. "I left him tied as he was, locked in a cabin with a window less'n a foot square. When I goes to fetch him this mornin' the door is still fastened, but the place is empty."
"Who kept the key?"
"There ain't but one an' the 01' Man had it," Reddy replied. "An' is he wild?"
"Can't see there's anythin' to be done, but we'll come along with yu," the marshal decided.
They found the Bar O in an unwonted state of inactivity; the men were grouped round the bunkhouse discussing the mystery, and the owner was impatiently striding to and fro, awaiting Reddy's return. He welcomed the visitors with an explosive oath :
"Shinin' hell, here's a fine kettle o' fish. After all the trouble you an' Dave went to, we go an' lose the skunk, though how he got out beats me."
"Where'd yu put him?" Sudden asked.
The foreman led the way to a stout little log structure, the door of which was secured by a padlock and staple. Sudden looked closely at the latter, slipped a finger through it, pulled, and the staple came away in his hand.
"There's the key that was used," he said, pointing to a rusty iron bar lying a few yards away. "That means he had outside help. S'pose none o' yu heard anythin' in the night?" A negative came from all save one, a man nearing forty, whose dark hair and beard were patched with grey.
"Now you mention it, mister, I did hear the whicker of a hoss, but I reckoned it come from the corral," he said. "If I'd thought it was this sneakin' houn' escapin' ..."
"Shorely," Sudden agreed, and to the rancher, "No sense in keepin' yore fellas here--the bird has flown." Having despatched the men to their various duties, Reddy joined the other three indoors.
"Well, you've showed us how he got loose, but we don't know who made it possible," Owen said. "Any ideas 'bout that, Jim?"
"There's on'y two answers : either his buddy trailed us an' waited for dark, or--it was one o' yore outfit."
"You can wipe out that last; my boys are loyal--every damn' one o' them," the rancher asserted.
"I ain't sayin' otherwise--just statin' facts. That hombre who heard the hoss now, has he been with yu long?"
"Pinto?--they call him that 'count of his piebald hair--why, no, a matter o' three-four months, but he was the sickest of any over this getaway."
"Yeah, I noticed that," Sudden asked.
"What do you think, Reddy?" Owen asked.
"I got nothin' agin Pinto," the foreman admitted. "He don't quite mix in, but I put that down to his bein' older'n m
ost of us. He's no shirker on his job."
"Dessay I'm wrong," the marshal said. "But a stranger couldn't 'a' knowed he would have a staple to deal with an' fetched along just the thing to beat it." Meanwhile, a conversation was taking place not many miles distant. On the other side of The Step, south of the fall, the plateau--by some fantastic freak of Nature--was broken by a great fissure, narrow and steep-sided, the bottom hidden by a seemingly impenetrable jumble of boulders, trees, and dense brush. This was Dark Canyon, the overhangingwalls fully justifying the name. It was never used, being difficult to enter, and without an exit. At the nearer end to The Step, Mullins, Javert, and five others were sitting round the embers of a fire. The man with the pitted face was finishing his story :
"An' if it hadn't bin for Pinto, I'd likely be dancin' on nothin' right now."
"Bah ! O' course you'd 'a' squealed." This from Javert. Pocky glared at him. "Yo're a dirty liar," he rasped. "I never sold a pal yet."
"Have it yore way," the gambler returned carelessly. "I'll bet Owen was bluffin', anyway."
"You'd lose--he ain't that sort. If he promises to stretch a fella's neck he'll do it, regardless. It's a good thing I planted a friend at the Bar O." Javert sneered. "You foresaw this happenin', huh?"
"No, I put Pinto there to keep me posted on the movements o' the cowboys an' cattle," Jake replied. "I've had this game in mind for months; it's easy money."
"Yeah, an' damn' little of it. A few cows, which we gotta sell for half their value."
"If it ain't worth yore while you got a simple remedy," Jake reminded. "This is on'y a beginnin'--there's other ranges in reach."
"A lot o' hard work for two-three hundred bucks, an' risk our necks at that. We couldn't lose more if we made it thousands."
"What you drivin' at?"
"This cattle rustlin' is chicken-feed, just keeps us in grub an' smokin'. Why not try where there's real money, scads of it. A bank, say?" He saw at once that he had regained the ground he had lost in the recent quarrel, for the eyes of his companions gleamed avariciously at his audacious proposal. Even their leader could put forward no objection.
"I think you got somethin' there," he said. "0I' Morley must carry a lot o' coin at times, an' there's on'y him an' his missis on the premises. It would square my little account with him."
"An' give some o' them Welcome hucksters a pain in the breakfast," Javert added viciously.
"We'll do it," Mullins decided. "But we gotta pick the right night. Dutch, ain't I seen young Evans, Morley's clerk, in Dirty Dick's?"
"Shore, he dasn't go to the Red Light; Bob has threatened to fire him if he does."
"That's fine. You slide in this evenin', git hold o' that boy, an' pump him dry, casual-like, o' course. Then we can make our plans. Now, them steers we lifted last night need attention, an', Pocky, don't forget to blot the brand o' that hoss you took in exchange for yore own; she's a dead giveaway." On that same afternoon, Mary Gray had a surprise when Jesse Sark dismounted outside her establishment, hitched his horse, and entered. She was alone, clearing up after the last of her midday customers. Sark cast an appraising eye round the rehabilitated eating-house, and a remembrance of what it had been forced a compliment even from his reluctant lips.
"My word, Mary, but you've certainly worked wonders," he said. "I must see if yore cookin' grades up to the layout --if you'll serve me."
"That's what I'm here for," she replied coldly.
He had been drinking, and his eyes watching her vanish into the kitchen, were covetous. Happiness and motherhood had made her more physically attractive, accentuating the curves of her youthful body, which her simple black dress set off perfectly. He devoured the food she set before him with greedy appreciation, and then, calling her over, said, with a leer :
"That was fine. If, as they say, the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, all the fellas in this burg oughta be sweet on you.""I like to please my customers."
"Mebbe, but it's no work for a woman such as youservin' grub to tradesmen an' cow-wrastlers, spoilin' them pretty han's."
"I am happy here," she replied steadily. "I don't mind earning my living."
"There's an easier way. The of man treated you mean; get the laugh on him by comin' back to the Dumb-bell. I'll give you everythin' you want." It was some seconds before the utter infamy of the suggestion come home, draining the blood from her cheeks, and turning her to ice.
"How dare you?" she cried.
"Don't be a fool, m'dear," he said. "I've took a fancy to you an' am willin' to pay a high price--even marriage--if that's what you're bogglin' over, in spite o' the tale I heard at Dirty' Dick's."
"What do you mean?"
"That the marshal set you up here."
"Dirty Dick's is well named," she retorted bitterly. "This place belongs to Mister Morley, and I rent it from him. There are those in town who would kill you for repeating that lie."
"Which would shorely clinch it," he sneered. "Whereas, if you came to the Dumb-bell ... See here, I'm ready to take a chance on you. Figure it out: mistress of a big ranch, plenty o' money, fine clothes, servants to wait on you, an'--a good home for yore kid."
"I wouldn't wed you to save him from starvation," she replied fiercely.
The contempt in her voice stung him like a whip, lashing him to a fury of anger and desire. Snatching at her wrist, he held her captive. A savage jerk which nearly flung her off her feet enabled him to sweep his other arm around the slender waist and force the struggling body close to his. Held in that iron clutch, she could do nothing save make desperate efforts to evade the lips which were seeking her own.
"Sark!" The bully looked up to find Dave Masters only a couple of yards distant, face rigid, eyes of chilled steel, and his gun levelled.
"Stand away. I am goin' to kill yu." Mary Gray moved to his side. "Don't shoot, Dave," she pleaded. "Send him away--for my sake." The sound of her voice seemed to bring him to his senses. He shook his head as though to clear it of a mist through which he had been gazing.
"Yo're right, ma'am, he ain't worth the case of a ca'tridge," he muttered, and gesturing towards the door with his weapon, added, "March ! " The cattleman drew a long breath; he knew that only the girl's intervention had saved him, but he was not grateful. But neither was he prepared to take further risks, so he marched. Dave followed, and as the other threw back the door, gripped him by the back of the neck and, with a sudden thrust, sent him sprawling into the street, much to the edification of some passers-by who witnessed the ignominious exit. When, spitting curses and sand, he scrambled to his feet, he saw his assailant standing on the sidewalk, empty hands hanging down, eyes blazing.
"Thought yu was gittin' off easy, huh?" the cowboy gibed. "Pull yore gun, yu mongrel, an' go to the hell that's waitin' for yu." But Sark was in no mood to accept the invitation. Though the drink had died out, he was badly shaken. He contented himself with a threat:
"Yore account is pilin' up, fella, but don't you fret none --it'll be settled."
"Git some o' yore cattle-thieves to help you," Dave advised, and saw the furious eyes flicker.
He watched the man hoist himself into the saddle, grab the quirt hanging from the horn, and lash the beast into a frenzied gallop.
"Takin' it out'n the hoss," was his thought. "He would." He opened the door of the restaurant and peeped in. Its owner was seated at a table, face hidden in her hands.
"I dasn't go in," he said, unaware that he was speaking aloud, and closing the door gently, walked away, convinced she had not seen him.
But she had, and heard him too, and when she raised her head the wet eyes were shining. "Oh, Dave, you big, brave--coward," she murmured with a tremulous smile.
That evening, the marshal strolled into Dirty Dick's, and indifferent to the anything but welcome looks he received, ordered a drink, and scanned the company with apparent carelessness. One couple immediately interested him; seated at a table a little apart from the rest were Dutch and Evans, the banker's assistant. Th
e latter, sucking at a rank cigar, and with a glass of spirit before him, had shown signs of perturbation when the officer entered.
"That's done it," he muttered. "He'll tell 01' Bob an' I'll get the air." Dutch, who was as little pleased at the intrusion, endeavoured to console him. "Mebbe he won't mention it," he said. "An' if he does, I can find you somethin' better to do than pushin' a pen--a man's job, with real money in it."
"That's mighty nice o' you, Dutch," was the reply. "Tied to a desk all day ain't much of a life."
"Yo're shoutin'--it'd give me the willies in a week," the other agreed, adding slyly, "See here, I can tell you how to shut the marshal's mouth, if need be." He whispered earnestly for a few moments, ceasing only when he became aware that the subject of their conversation had drawn near.
"Evans, I want a word with yu--outside." The youth hesitated, and then, with a poor attempt at bravado, emptied his glass and followed the officer into the fresh air. Sudden came to the point at once.
"How come yu to be in that sink?"
"You were there yoreself."
"Don't fence with me, boy," Sudden said sternly. "Would Bob Morley approve o' yore frequentin' Dirty Dick's?"
"He don't buy my evenin's."
"Which is no answer to my question." The boy fidgeted with his feet, tried to draw inspiration from a cigar which had lost its savour, and furtively let it fall.
"You don't have to tell him, do you?"
"It's my duty," the marshal said doubtfully.
Sudden Takes The Trail (1940) s-6 Page 7
