"So you've got the Bar O suspecting you, eh? That's not very clever."
"They can't prove or do anythin'," Sark replied. "I'm too strong for 'em."
"Jake seems to have muddled matters," the lawyer remarked. "A pity--it was a neat way of bleeding Owen."
"He was unlucky," Sark excused. "That cursed marshal..." Lyman cut short the string of oaths. "Blame yourself. Why the devil didn't you make a friend of the fellow instead of letting the Bar O get hold of him? These men all have their price. Now, I'll have to find a way to deal with him. Your head is just an ornament, and poor at that." To the surprise of the listener, Sark took the rating meekly. "I ain't got yore brains, Seth, but he queered our plan to make Mullins marshal, an' so "
"you have to show your hand by making an enemy of him?" the lawyer said testily. "One marshal is as good as another, if he's taking your pay. How are you getting on with the girl?"
"Oh, we're good friends," was the careless reply. "I don't want to rush things."
"No, you tried that and failed, didn't you? Don't lie to me, Jesse; I know what happens in Welcome."
"I was lit up, but she'll listen to reason."
"She'll have to, but it was another stupid blunder. Let it be the last, or . . ." Silence ensued, and then Sark said, "By the way, Seth, I've bin thinkin' that if yore office got burned out, or if anythin' happened to you, them papers "
"Are in a safer place than my office," Lyman interrupted.
1 1 A
"And if I met with misfortune, my friend, it would be awkward--for one Jesse Sark."
"But, hell, you might drop dead in the street, an' then "
"My troubles would be over and yours would begin," was the grim retort. "Brought the cash?"
"Yeah, an' it takes a lot o' findin'," Sark grumbled. "With Jake an' his men in the discard it'll be harder."
"Don't talk like a fool. They must go on worrying the Bar O, whittling down their herds, until Owen is willing to sell--at our price. I hear Mary Gray is doing well out of her eating-house; no chance of cutting in on her trade, I suppose?"
"Not any, the marshal an' his side-kick have made the town solid for her."
"She's got courage, ability, and looks," the lawyer said. "You're going to be a lucky fellow, if you play your cards properly. If I were twenty years younger ..."
"Well?" The other laughed wheezily. "I'm not, so it doesn't matter. Now, no hanging about here; get back to the Dumbbell." This was evidently not in accordance with the rancher's intentions. "Damn it, Seth, a chap must have some fun," he protested. "Yo're askin' too much."
"I'm not asking anything," Lyman rasped. "I'm giving orders." Sudden heard the door slam, the sound of one pair of feet on the stairway, and then Sark's hoarse, angry voice:
"you blood-suckin' leech. One o' these days I'm goin' to squeeze that shrivelled wind-pipe till the breath leaves yore rotten carcase." Having hurled this valediction at a man who could not hear it, he too departed. The eavesdropper waited until he consisted the coast would be clear. He found the barman in conversation with a stocky, abnormally broad individual, whose sheriff's star occupied a prominent position on his vest. His pig-like eyes, deep-sunk in a fat, pimply face, surveyed the stranger truculently. The latter's badge was not in evidence.
"Visitor, I guess," he opened.
"The same," Sudden returned easily. "Sheriff. I see."
"Correct, an' the name is Blick--mebbe you've heard o' me?" the officer said pompously.
"I'm new to these parts--just ridin' through," the marshal replied, and when the barman reminded him that he had booked a bed, added, "I like to play safe; sleepin' on my saddle ain't no treat for me."
"Cowpunch, huh?"
"yeah, but just now I'm takin' a li'l va-cation. Which is the best place in this township for a fella to amuse his-self?"
"The Square Deal," the sheriff replied. "Good liquor, pretty gals, an' straight games--you'll find 'em all there."
"Your joint?"
"Shore, but I ain't boostin' it on that account, eh, Tom?" This to the bar-tender, who shook his head and winked slyly to his other customer. "I'm a square man, an' a square deal has allus bin my motto, which explains the name. Come an' see for yoreself." He emptied his glass, and without waiting for an answer, strutted out. Sudden's sardonic eyes followed the stubby figure until it vanished behind the swinging door, and then turned to encounter the grinning face of the barman.
"He's certainly square--to look at," he commented.
"An' that's as far as it goes," the other said viciously. "Him an' Slimy run this burg to suit theirselves an' both of 'em is bad right through. If you win at Blick's, some yaller-haired hussy'll take it from you, an' if she don't, there'll be strong-arm gents waitin' outside." The marshal opened his wide shoulders. "Them last will have an interestin' time."
"Forget it," Tom told him. "Hocussed liquor makes their job easy." 114
"That's different. I'm obliged to yu, friend." Having put his horse in the hotel stable, and carried his saddle and rifle up to his room, he went in search of a meal. He found one, plentiful enough but poor as regards quality and cooking.
"Mrs. Gray is spoilin' me," he reflected as he came out. "She'd make a fortune here." Drywash was a busy place, for despite the heat, there was a certain amount of bustle and activity. Pedestrians of both sexes hurried or sauntered along the sidewalks, and outside the drinking dives men lounged, chatting and smoking. One of these spoke as the marshal swung past.
"Another sucker for Blick an' his like to trim," he laughed.
Further along the street, the object of their interest abruptly slid behind the projecting corner of a store as a familiar form stepped out; it was Galt. With his hat pulled well over his eyes, Sudden followed until the rustler disappeared into a building, on the door of which was the name, "S. Lyman." The marshal came away, and proceeded to try out a plan he had conceived. Entering a saloon, he ordered a drink, and reaching out the brass box--which now contained tobacco--began to construct a cigarette. None of the other customers evinced any interest, and leaving, he repeated the process at a number of places, but without meeting any success.
"There's nothin' to it," he decided. "It was a long shot, at the best." Night was coming on when at length he paid a visit to the Square Deal. It was large, and vulgarly ornate, the planed log walls garishly decorated with gaudy, gilt-framed mirrors, and pictures which owed nothing to art or decency. The shining mahogany bar, with its resplendent array of bottles, was an inmposing feature. To the right were the various games of chance provided by the establishment, and to the left a portion of the boarded floor was devoted to dancing; the space between contained tables and chairs.
117 The women present, for the most part, were employed by the house to dance and drink with the customers; their painted faces and tawdry attire proclaimed the fact.
The saloon was filling up, and the jangle of the ill-treated piano mingled with the medley of voices. No sooner had the marshal entered than a golden-haired girl in a crumpled muslin frock which displayed her figure somewhat freely, minced up and caught his arm.
"Buy me a drink," she invited. "I like cowboys." Sudden slipped a bill into her hand.
"Get yoreself one," he said. "I'm playin' another game tonight." She shrugged her bare shoulders. "Dame Fortune is hard to woo," she said. "You would find me less difficult." She thrust the money into the breast of her dress, and her bold eyes softened. "Good luck, friend, but--don't buck the wheel --for much." The last words were a mere whisper, spoken as she skipped away to be instantly caught in the arms of another man and dragged to the dancing floor. The marshal joined the crowd round the roulette board, and soon saw that the girl's warning had been well-meant; the wheel was under the control of the operator, who allowed small bets to win; worth-while wagers almost always lost. He collected a few dollars and drifted to the bar. A frowsy, half-tipsy fellow of about forty was arguing with the man behind it.
"You know me, Len," he said. "I've spent a lot o' coin
here, an' now, when I'm cleaned, you won't stake me to a drink."
"You know the rule, Lumpy," Len replied, and jerked a thumb at a big notice behind him which read, "No trust."
"Have one with me," Sudden suggested, laying down a dollar.
"Why, that's mighty gen'rous o' you, stranger," Lumpy said, and grabbed the glass eagerly.
"Shucks ! " was the smiling reply. "I've been thirsty my own self."
"I dunno nothin' wuss," Lumpy said. "I once went three year without a man's drink, an' " He stopped, staring amazedly at his benefactor, who was rolling a smoke. "You ain't him, but you got his baccy-box, or the twin of it," he muttered.
"Know a fella who carries one o' these?" the marshal asked carelessly.
"Useter, but ain't seen him for a long whiles."
"This atmosphere would poison a dawg. I'm for fresh air. Comin'?" The other finished his liquor and followed. In the dark of the street, lessened only by the glow of an occasional lighted window, Sudden spoke again:
"I'd give twenty bucks to find the owner o' that box." The drunkard's eyes gleamed; he would have parted with his soul for that amount. His story was brief. He had known the man, who called himself "Ezra Kent," some two years earlier, in Bentley, but could not say what had become of him.
Sudden thought this over. The name fitted the initials, of which his informant had no knowledge. Bentley was about a hundred miles north, and possessed a prison; he remembered the enforced abstinence, smiled, and asked what Kent was doing there?
"Time," was the laconic answer. "He was in with his buddy--fellow Ezra called `Jesse'--but I didn't know him. What were they like? Well, now you got me--men look pretty much the same in the pen. Both was biggish built, an' favoured each other some. No, I ain't set eyes on neither of 'em since." Satisfied that the fellow could tell him no more, Sudden handed over the promised reward, and returned to the hotel.
Darkness was only beginning to give way to daylight when an urgent rap on the door awakened him. It proved to be the bar-tender.
"There's a man for breakfast this mornin', friend, an' if I was you I wouldn't wait for none," he said. "We've a back way to the stables, an' by keepin' behind the buildin's you can git clear o' the town without bein' seen."
"A killin', huh?" the marshal asked. "What I gotta do with that?"
"Nothin', I reckon, which is why I'm warnin' you, but he was last seen alive in yore comp'ny, when you took him out'n the Square Deal. Where'd you go after?"
"That fella? Why, we talked a bit outside an' then I came along here. He told me somethin' I wanted to know an' I gave him twenty dollars."
"He was found, stabbed in the back with his own knife, an' pockets empty. They're routin' out the sheriff now, an' knowin' his methods, you ain't got a chance."
"Runnin' away will pin the crime on me," Sudden objected.
"Mebbe, but it'll make it possible for you to go on breath- in'," the barman said drily. "I know this burg." The marshal saw the argument was sound. So, with a word of thanks to this friend in need, he hurried to the stable, saddled his horse, and slipped away unobserved.
He covered the first few miles at full speed, and then, satisfied that he was safe from pursuit, since they could not know which way he had taken, slowed down, his brain busy with what he had discovered. He shook his head in despair.
"Nig, I'm gettin' my rope all snarled up," he confided. "Stretch yore legs, yu black rascal, an' head for breakfast; I never could think on an empty belly."
Chapter XIV
"WHERE'S the body?" was the greeting the marshal received from Dave on his return.
"I left it behind," he replied, truthfully enough.
Not another word could be got out of him until he had dealt fully with the food Sloppy hastened to prepare for him.
"Havin' fortified yore system against famine for the next twenty-four hours, is there anythin' else yu need?" Dave inquired, with elaborate sarcasm.
"Yeah, a smoke," Sudden smiled, and got out his makings. As he rolled the little tube, he added casually, "Ever heard of a jasper named Ezra Kent?" Both shook their heads, but into the elder man's eyes crept the apprehensive look which the marshal had seen before.
"We gotta find him--he owns that box. Also, Mister Lyman--who is shorely one o' Nature's mistakes--has Sark hawg-tied, which requires lookin' into." Dave was gazing out of the window. "yu got yore chance right now," he remarked. "There's Jesse, agoin' into the Red Light."
"Good," the marshal said, getting up. "No, yu two stay put--we don't want a crowd." He found Nippert and the rancher alone; the latter accosted him genially.
" 'Lo, marshal, glad you come in. I've just bin backin' down to Ned, an' that goes for you too. Reckon I was all wrong 'bout Jake--he's crooked, that fella, an' I'm through with him; he's made trouble enough for me a'ready." Sudden exchanged glances with the saloon-keeper, noted the slight nod, and replied fatuously, "Why, that's good hearin', Mister Sark. Me, I never was one to nurse a grudge."
"Fine," the Dumb-bell man said, with a great show of heartiness. "Set 'em up, Ned." He laughed ruefully as he raised his glass. "It won't be pleasant to eat crow to John Owen, but I'll have to, I guess."
"Here's to a better understandin'," the marshal toasted.
They drank, and Nippert's grin told that he had grasped the inner meaning of the last word. When the visitor called for cigars, Sudden decided in favour of a cigarette. The appearance of the brass box made Sark start violently, and when he spoke, his voice was not quite the same.
"That's an unusual thing for a cowpunch to carry," he said hoarsely. "Where'd you git it?"
"Picked it up--recent," was the offhand reply.
"Dessay there's hundreds aroun', but it's the first I've seen. What'll you take for it?" The marshal made a negative gesture. "I've got fond o' the durned contraption, an' it keeps my baccy moist." He lighted his cigarette and put the box away. "I hear Dry-wash is gettin' to be quite a town; I must look it over one day."
"I ain't bin there in weeks," Sark lied. "Too many saloons an' dance-halls. I've bin thinkin' it's time I settled down, with a woman o' my own."
"If you've come a-courtin', Welcome ain't got much to offer," the saloon-keeper said.
"Bah ! " Sark cut in. "There's on'y one woman I'd look twice at her an' that's Mary Gray." Receiving no comment, he went on eagerly. "It'd mean a lot for her to be back where she oughta be."
"Yeah, but I fancy I heard she didn't cotton to the idea," the saloon-keeper suggested.
"That's so, but I was oiled an' overplayed my hand. Anyways, I'm goin' to put it to her again. I reckon she'll see which side her bread is buttered."
"Yeah, an' mebbe forget that she eats both sides," Sudden rejoined.
Not quite knowing how to take this, Sark decided that it was meant humorously, laughed, and went out. The two men looked at one another, and the saloon-keeper chuckled.
"He must fancy we ain't cut our eye-teeth," he said.
Before the other could reply, Dave came bursting in. "Sark's gone into the Widow's," he announced. "What's he want?"
"It's a place o' public entertainment an' he might want a meal," the marshal pointed out. "If you gotta know, he'sgone to offer her the Dumb-bell ranch, includin' his most unworthy self." The young man promptly loosened his gun in the holster and moved towards the door, but his friend stepped in front of him. "I'm bettin' the little woman can manage her own affairs. What right yu got to butt in?" he said.
Dave had no answer to this, and stood moodily watching the street. Fifteen minutes only had elapsed when they saw the rancher come out, fling himself on his mount, and begin to use spurs and quirt immediately. Head down, he passed at a furious pace, still thrashing the beast beneath him.
"Either he's hurryin' to fetch a parson, or . . ."
"Did yu see his face?" Dave asked, his own alight. "Shore. I'll bet she made herself plain."
"She couldn't ever do that," Dave laughed, and flushed boyishly. "I mean "
"Shucks! Yo're makin
' yoreself mighty plain," Sudden grinned, and sobering, "She ain't done with him yet." The marshal was right; even as he spoke the words, Sark's frenzied, evil mind was working as he rode recklessly in the direction of his ranch. Mary Gray had listened quietly to what he had to say, and then dismissed him with a finality which would have convinced the most sanguine wooer.
Directly he arrived at the Dumb-bell, he despatched an urgent message to Mullins. When the rustler rode in, some hours later, it was to find him in the same ugly mood.
"Wantin' me?" Jake asked.
"I've a job for you--if you want it. If not, I can find someone else."
"Suits me," Jake said, and turned to go.
Sark had not expected his bluff to be called. "Don't be a damned fool," he retorted irritably, and pushed the bottle across the table. "There's a pretty pickin' in this for you. Take a chair and a drink." The visitor did neither; this was an opportunity, and he meant to make the most of it. "How much?" he wanted to know.
"A thousand bucks."
"About a hundred apiece," Mullins sneered. "Chicken-feed. What have we gotta do for it?" Sark outlined his scheme, and the other listened in silence, considering how it fitted in with his own plans. Having come to the conclusion that it might further them, he sat down and helped himself to whisky.
"You mean to marry her?"
"Certainly, fair an' square, but she needs a little assistance in makin' up her mind."
"Awright for you, mebbe, but me an' my men'll have to pull stakes."
"Meanin' the price ain't high enough?"
"Jesse, there's times you show real intelligence," Mullins grinned. He was enjoying himself.
Sark considered. "I'll double it, but that's the limit." The rustler nodded; he had his own ideas about that too. "When do we git the dollars?"
Sudden Takes The Trail (1940) s-6 Page 11
