Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 08 - Sudden Takes The Trail(1940)
Page 19
“After what he’s done, I reckon the Bar O owes him that.” John Owen was a just man.
“Yo’re right, Ned,” he admitted. “Sorry I spoke outa turn, Jim. Welcome can’t do without you.
Shake.” Their hands met, and Sudden said something they were to recall later:
“The man who can’t be done without ain’t been born yet.”
Chapter XXII
IT was some days later, and Welcome, having duly celebrated the defeat and dispersal of the outlaws, resumed the uneven tenor of its way.
The marshal and his deputy, chairs tilted back, were taking the morning sun in front of their abode. For some time they had smoked in silence, and then Dave said abruptly:
“When do we hit the trail, Jim?”
“Day or two,” the other replied absently, and then, “We? What yu talkin’ of? Yo’re stayin’ here.”
“I—am—not. Hell! Why couldn’t yu leave things be ‘stead o’ rakin’ up ancient hist’ry, an’ unsettlin’ everybody?” The marshal stared at him. “Yu talked this over with Mrs. Gray?”
“No,” the boy snapped. “What yu take me for?”
“The biggest chump the Lord ever put breath into,” Sudden said pleasantly, and got up.
Despondently the young man saw him stroll along the street, pausing now and then to chat with a passer-hy. “Jim don’t understand,” he muttered miserably.
He was wrong, the marshal understood very well. The Widow’s face lit up when he entered, but fell again when she saw that he was alone.
“Dave been in?” he asked casually.
“No, and he didn’t come yesterday,” she told him, adding with a brave show of indifference, “He must have lost his appetite.”
“S’posed to be a reason for that, ain’t there?” Sudden queried, and noted the quick flush.
“Guess it’s liver in his case—he needs exercise, an’ he’ll get it when we start our travels again.”
“He’s going away?” The cheeks were white now. “But why?”
“Dave’s changed the last day or two. He’s that modest I don’t hardly know him—just an ornery no’-count puncher he calls hisself. Talks dangerous, too, about makin’ a pile o’ money, pronto.”
“Whatever for?”
“I dunno. Mebbe he wants somethin’ that seems out of his reach.” The girl’s eyes glistened. “Jim,” she said softly, “you are the best friend I ever had. Do you think ?”
“I’ll fix it,” Sudden broke in, and beat a rapid retreat. As “he approached the lounger outside the office, he quickened his pace.
“The Widow is hurt,” he said, and turned his grinning face aside as Dave leapt from his chair and raced for the restaurant.
Flinging open the door, he dashed in to find the lady leaning against one of the tables, and the look which welcomed him was something a mere man is lucky to see once in a lifetime.
As his hungry arms closed about her, he cried:
“Mary, what’s the matter? Jim said yu were hurt.”
“Dear old Jim,” she smiled. “I was—you were going away.” His hold tightened. “But, girl dear, I’m just.. ”
“An ornery no’count puncher,” she quoted.
“Yeah, an’ yu got a ranch. What else could a fella do?” From the shelter of his shoulder came a muffled whisper. “I’ve got a heart, too. A fella could stay and look after—them both.”
That same evening, in the privacy of his own parlour at the Red Light, the saloon-keeper tried again to persuade the mashal to remain.
“Shucks!” Sudden smiled. “Ever hear o’ the Wandering Jew? He had the travel itch, same as me, an’ there’s no cure for it, ol’-timer; I gotta go.” The saloon-keeper gave it up. “Welcome will find it mighty hard to part with you,” he said glumly.
**
In the morning, the town awoke to find the marshal had solved the problem for it and himself by disappearing during the hours of darkness. The coming of daylight found him half-way to Drywash. A single farewell look and he turned to face the lonely trail he had once more elected to tread.
The End