“Eden, I want a word with yu,” the cowboy said. “I’m goin’ to put my cards on the table, an’ yu’d better look at ‘em.”
Without waiting for assent, he dismounted and trailed the reins. The S E men silently ranged themselves by their employer. When Carol appeared, the cattleman would have sent her away, but Sudden intervened:
“I’d like Miss Eden to hear what I gotta say.”
“We’re going to listen to some more lies, eh?” Baudry sneered.
“Not unless yu say somethin’,” came the acid retort. “This’ll be the truth, though I misdoubt yu’ll recognize it.” He turned to Eden. “First, I gotta talk about myself.”
Very briefly he told the tale of his adventures to the time he joined the S E outfit and the supercilious smile on the gambler’s lips became more pronounced. When Sudden paused he laughed outright.
“Damned good,” he jeered. “You ought to be writing dime novels. Why didn’t you come out with this fine story then?”
“I couldn’t prove it,” the cowboy said simply. “An’ I wanted to get outa the country.”
“I’ll bet you did,” came the gibe. “Besides, you were working for Rogue.”
Sudden raised his shoulders. “This fella claims he’s goin’ to ranch near yu,” he said to Eden. “Did he mention his brand?” The old man shook his head. “Well, it don’t signify—he told yore daughter. See here.”
He picked up a half-burnt stick from the fire and in the sand at his feet traced the letters, S E. Then he joined up the ends of both, turning them into 8 B.”
“That’s his iron,” he said quietly.
“Convenient, ain’t it?”
Baudry’s expression of amused indifference vanished. “By heaven, Sam, I never thought of that,” he cried. “Comes of not being a cattleman.”
It was well done, but his laugh met with no response; brand-blotting was not a subject of mirth in that company. , “yeah,” Sudden said ironically. “While I was stayin’ with Rogue, his men brought in a bunch o’ cattle to brand. As I told yu, they were feedin’ me, so I did my share.
They were supposed to be mavericks, but most of ‘em was S E when they was thrown an’ 8 B when they got up.”
“Which only proves that Rogue was taking advantage of my ignorance to sell me stolen steers,” Baudry pointed out. “Till the other day I’d never seen the fellow. I let it be known I wanted stock and took it for granted they would be unmarked strays.”
“Rogue told me a man was payin’ him to bust this drive an’ was willin’ to take all or any o’ the herd,” the cowboy went on. “Who gets yore ranch, Eden, if yu fail to put yore cattle through?”
The rancher started, and looked suspiciously at his guest. Baudry reached out a cigar, lit it, and laughed.
“Dime novel stuff,” he said. “Prove it.”
“Right,” the other rejoined. “Eden, I want yore hoss-wrangler, Rollitt.”
The gambler’s eyes flickered. “Fetch him, Davy,” he said.
“No,” Sudden said sharply, and motioned to Jeff.
The foreman returned with the wrangler, whose shifty eyes widened when he saw the visitors. “Yu wantin’ me?” he asked his employer.
“I’m wantin’ yu,” Sudden told him. “How long yu been in with Rogue?”
The abruptness of the question caught the fellow off his guard, but he recovered quickly, his look of alarm giving place to one of sullen obstinacy.
“Ain’t never,” he growled. “What yu gittin’ at?”
“The truth,” Sudden retorted. A gun seemed to leap into his hand. “Rollitt, I’m givin’ yu a chance to come clean. If yu don’t, I’ll kill yu.” The cold, merciless tone drove the threat home.
The wrangler’s gaze travelled round the circle of faces. “Nobody can help yu,” the icy voice went on. “Whatever happens to me, yu’ll be as dead as Moses.”
Rollitt looked at the levelled gun; if the thumb moved and let fall the hammer…. He was not the stuff of which heroes are made.
“Mebbe it’s a year,” he said huskily. “I broke away” The gun roared and a line of red on the man’s cheekbone showed where the bullet had grazed him.
“The next lie will be yore last,” the marksman warned. “yu’ve been watched, yu fool.
What was the word yu took from that man”—he pointed to Dutt—“to Navajo?”
The nearness of death had shattered the ruffian’s nerves. With trembling lips he mumbled the message: “Rogue is sellin’ yu; get busy with the boys an’ strike quickly.”
“That’s a” Dutt began, and promptly subsided when he saw Sudden’s eye upon him; he did not relish the cowboy’s method of dealing with liars.
“Well, Sam, are you taking the word of this gunman with a price on his head against me, Jethro Baudry, a respected citizen, and your friend?” the gambler asked coolly.
Before the rancher could reply another voice chimed in, and the little Indian-hunter thrust himself forward.
“Jethro Baudry, huh?” he piped. “When I see yu in Kansas City not so far back yu was Monte Jack, a card-cheat who skipped outa town two-three jumps ahead o’ the Vigilantes, wanted for killin’ a sucker yu’d trimmed—shot him under the table, didn’t yu?”
Save that it was a shade more pallid, the gambler’s face did not alter. “you are mistaken, my friend,” he said.
“No friend o’ your’n—never did cotton to coyotes, nohow,” Tyson said bluntly. “Monte had a scar runnin’ up his right arm from wrist to elbow, where a Mexican had tried to slipa knife into him. All red an’ puckered it was, like the edges had been sewed up clumsy.”
“Roll up yore right sleeve.”
It was Sudden who gave the order, and his gun was again out. Baudry’s face was livid; he knew the game was up—for the moment.
“No need—the scar’s there,” he admitted, and turned to Eden. “You win—for now, but don’t forget I hold your paper.” The rancher, whose rage had been steadily rising as the revelation of how he had been duped proceeded, boiled over at this.
“Yu dirty thief,” he cried, and gripped his gun.
The threatened man jeered. “It would be a good way of paying your debt, wouldn’t it?”
Eden’s fingers released the weapon as though it had been red-hot. He glared at the scoundrel who had gauged him so correctly.
“Yu’ll get yore money—every cent of it—when I sell the herd,” he promised. “Yu needn’t worry.”
Baudry’s lips curled in a wolfish snarl. “I don’t propose to,” he replied. “I’ll have the money, the S E, and—anything else I want of yours.” His eyes went to Carol as he made the insolent boast and the contempt with which she received the look swept away the barrier of his self-control. “You damned old fool,” he gritted. “I’ll make you curse the hour you quarrelled with me. I’ll break you and grind your face in the dust. When Rogue has done with you”
“Rogue can speak for himself, Mister,” came a quiet voice. The outlaw was standing there. So absorbed had everyone been in what was taking place that they had not seen him ride in and dismount. He addressed the cattleman:
“Far as I’m concerned, Eden, yore herd is safe,” he began. “I can’t speak for my men; that toad there has poisoned ‘em an’ they’ve named a new leader.”
“So you sneaked off here to save your hide?” Baudry sneered.
The outlaw’s eyes flashed. “Best take care o’ yore own,” he said. “I don’t owe yu money.”
He looked at Eden. “Jim has given yu the straight of it,” he went on. “What yu aimin’ to do with these rats?”
The cattleman gestured angrily to his foreman. “Clear ‘em out,” he ordered, and to Sudden, “Green, I’m takin’ yore word, but yu ain’t told who drilled me.”
Sudden looked at Rogue, who’ shook his head. “I don’t know, seh,” he replied. “But it warn’t Sandy.”
The rancher turned his hard eyes on that young man. “I ain’t convinced,” he said stubbornly, “but I’m willin’
to be.”
And with this grudging admission Sandy had to be content, but there was a welcome elsewhere which more than compensated; Carol’s eyes were friendly.
A word from the foreman sent the other men about their tasks, leaving the boss and the outlaw alone. An awkward silence ensued, broken at length by the visitor:
“Studying why I’m here, Eden?” he asked. “If yu think it’s because o’ that scum over there yu got another guess comin’. I’d ‘a’ stayed an’ shot it out with ‘em, but I thought I could undo some o’ the harm I done yu.”
The rancher’s expression was frankly sceptical.
“Don’t believe me?” the outlaw went on. “Dunno as I blame yu, but it’s a fact. Ain’t yu wondered why I let yu get so far after that fandango with the ‘Paches? Well, I’ve been tryin’ to persuade the boys that it would be a better play to let yu sell the cows an’ then lift the dollars, trustin’ yu could find a safe place for ‘em. That cardsharp put a crimp in that an’ here I am. What yu gotta say?” A The rancher hesitated; he was not in the frame of mind to trust anyone, and this man had threatened to steal his cattle.
“Yu can stay, but my men’ll have orders to shoot yu at the first sign o’ crooked work,” he decided.
“That’s on’y fair,” Rogue said, and walked away.
Chapter XXIV
THE country stretched before them, flat, brown, uninteresting, but the trail-drivers found it satisfactory, since no danger could approach unseen. The herd, spread out fan-wise, moved slowly forward and Sam Eden—able to sit in a saddle again —pulling up his pony to watch the beasts pass, exulted as he noted their fine condition. Then he frowned as he remembered that catastrophe might yet overtake them. Behind the drag, Rogue was riding alone. The rancher joined him.
“What d’yu figure them coyotes will do?” he asked bluntly.
“We talked it over,” the outlaw replied. “To attack on the march would shorely mean stampeding the steers; we’d have to gather ‘em again an’ might lose quite a number—not all my men knows cattle. The other way was to wait till the herd was bedded down an’ rush yore camp after dark; the nightriders could be easy dealt with later. I’d say that’s what they’ll try, an’ it’ll be soon, mebbe tonight.”
The rancher was silent for a while, furtively studying the hard face of this desperado who had striven for his ruin and was now, apparently, eager to help him. He could not understand it, and still suspected double-dealing.
“What yu know o’ that fella Sands?” he asked.
“Mighty little,” was the reply. “He drifted in one day, a piece before I met up with Green, and hung around. Didn’t mix well with the rest—too clean, I reckon.” He smiled and shook his head. “No harm to him; just a boy gone a bit wild.”
The cattleman grunted, his eyes travelling ahead to where the subject of their conversation was riding gaily by the side of the girl. Whatever his thoughts were he did not express them.
Hour after hour under the scorching sun the herd drifted on but evening brought them good fortune in the shape of a disrupted strip of plain, with a camp site which could be defended.
The bare wall of a small bluff protected the rear, thick scrub shadowed by pines and cottonwoods, the two sides, leaving only the front open. Across this, after the wagon had been driven in, they dragged a couple of tall trees, felled for the purpose, the branches of which formed a leafy screen. Just past the bluff was a pool of water, residue of the last rain, and when the herd had satisfied its thirst, it was driven to a plateau nearby and bedded down, two men only being left in charge. A few horses, ready for instant use, were in a rope corral by the pond; the others were turned loose.
Supper was eaten almost in silence, and hurriedly, each man with his rifle beside him; at any moment he might have to jump up and fight for his life. Then the women were sent to lie down in the wagon and Eden posted his men, with a grim word of warning:
“Don’t shoot till yo’re shore,” he said. “Then—get ‘em.”
Sandy, squatting beside his friend, voiced a complaint: “Hell! Don’t yu want a smoke, Jim?” he asked.
“Didn’t till yu mentioned it, damn yu,” was the disgusted reply.
“I hope they show up—we won’t find such a good place in a hundred miles.”
“I’m bettin’ they do—it’s pretty near their last chance, an’ with no moon, they’ll figure on a surprise.”
“They’ll get it too,” Sandy chuckled. “Where’s Tyson?”
“Saw him siftin’ into the brush,” Sudden replied. “Gone to smell ‘em out for us; he’s a four-eyed wonder in the woods.”
The cowboy’s guess was a good one. As soon as he had eaten, the forest-runner, with a word to Eden, had faded into the shadows, leaving his beloved Betsy behind. Now, prostrate on his belly, he wriggled a way through the brush, ears attentive to the slightest sound. For an hour or more he heard nothing but the scuttling of some disturbed denizen of the undergrowth, the hoot of an owl, and an occasional faint bellow from the herd.
Then came a new noise, one he had been expecting—the crack of a snapped dry twig, directly in front. Rising to his knees he drew the long, keen blade from his belt and waited. The bush beside him shook and a man on all fours appeared, pushing his rifle ahead of him. Swiftly, silently as a striking snake, the knife flashed and the victim, without even a groan, flattened out like a pricked bladder. Rollitt would rob no more.
The slayer callously jerked his weapon from the throat, wiped it on the dead man’s shirt-sleeve, and thrust it into his belt. A muffled curse away to his left and another cracking of dried wood on his right told him that the marauders were getting close; he must warn the camp.
With infinite caution he retraced his path; no one of the watching outfit saw him return, but the word was passed along.
Tense moments ticked by and from behind a cactus a shadowy, indistinct form appeared to gradually grow out of the ground. It saw what it expected—the glow of a fire, and round it, dark shapes of sleeping men. A low whistle brought other shadows, and then a dozen guns shattered the silence of the night, driving bullets into the artfully arranged blankets. To the attackers’ surprise, no reply came.
“We must ‘a’ got most of ‘em—there’d be several with th’ herd,” Navajo reasoned. “Come on, fellas.”
Confident of success the outlaws emerged from concealment and dashed forward. This was the moment for which Eden had been waiting.
“Now,” he called sharply.
From behind the barricade guns spat in a spiteful chorus and in the advancing line men dropped silently, or stumbled and cursed as they fell. Their leader, realizing that they had walked into a trap, turned and raced for cover again, calling to his men to do the same. A number succeeded, but motionless black blotches on the ground told that the attacking force had suffered.
Silence again ensued, broken only by an occasional shot when a cowboy fancied he detected a movement in the scrub. Navajo was cursing.
“They was waitin’ for us, burn their souls,” he grated. “Somebody musta tipped ‘em off—them fallen trees wasn’t no accident. I’m bettin’ it was Rogue, the….” A stream of obscenities followed, cut short by a glance at the sky. “Hell! th’ moon’ll be up in less’n half an hour an’ they’ll be able to pick us off like cottontails. We gotta rush ‘em before then—it’s our on’y chanct.”
The charge was made, and met—as before—with a leaden shower, but this time the attackers were desperate. Though several dropped, the rest came on, climbed the barricade, and leapt down upon its defenders. Most of the combatants having emptied their weapons and reloading being an operation which required time, the battle became one of single-handed encounters in which guns and pistols served the purpose of clubs. Grunts, curses, and the thud of blows replaced the crash of exploding powder.
Sudden, having fired his last shot, bringing a man down, slipped aside just in time to get his head out of the path of a swinging rifle-butt. Ere the wielder of the weapon c
ould recover his balance, the cowboy stepped in and drove a venomous fist to his jaw. The fellow collapsed limply, dropping like a sack of meal, and at the same instant, claw-like talons encircled Sudden’s neck from behind, sinking into the flesh and shutting off his breath.
“Got yu, yu damned spy,” came a sibilant hiss.
It was Navajo. With all his weight on the cowboy’s back he was striving to fling him to the ground. Sudden knew that would be the end and fought desperately to keep his feet. But the strangling clutch on his wind-pipe was sapping his strength, his lungs ached for air, sharp pains pierced his eyeballs and sight seemed to be leaving him. With groping fingers he tried to loosen the half-breed’s hold but it was of no use; the relentless fingers might have been hooks of steel.
Then, in despair, he savagely jabbed an. elbow backwards into the body behind him. The result was magical; caught fairly in the solar plexus, Navajo’s hands fell away, and he tottered back, gasping, helpless.
For some seconds the cowboy could do no more than suck air into his starved lungs, and then, seeing that his enemy was recovering, he ripped across a blow which sent the outlaw reeling to earth. Snarling curses, he sprang up, and as Sudden ran in, flung a handful of sand in his face, and bolted. For the moon was up and a quick glance had shown him that his men were scuttling like rabbits. Completely blinded by the stinging particles of grit, Sudden could do no more than express himself, stamping about, dabbing his smarting eyes with his neckerchief. So Sandy found him, listened awestruck for a moment, and then, with a mischievous grin, remarked:
“Don’t yu take no notice, Miss Carol; I reckon he’s loco.”
The irate cowboy whirled round, only to find he had been caught. The relief of the discovery restored his good-humour. Somewhat ashamed of himself, he explained the reason for the outburst.
Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 04 - Sudden Outlawed(1934) Page 19
