Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 04 - Sudden Outlawed(1934) Read online

  “Yu look as happy as a wet hen,” was the greeting he received. “What’s bitin’ yu?”

  “I dunno, Jim, an’ that’s a fact, but I got a feelin’ trouble is comin’.”

  “Trouble allus is comin’ an’ worryin’ won’t stop it. Get such fool notions outa the thing that holds yore hat up, an’ keep a close eye on them durned cows; half of ‘em ain’t even dozin’ yet.”

  Riding back to the camp he heard the mournful, weird howl of a coyote and a moment later came an answering cry. He pulled up in doubt; to his trained ear they did not sound just right. Smiling sardonically at the reflection that Sandy had made him nervy, he nevertheless circled to approach the rear of the timber behind the camp, whence the cries had seemed to come. This took some time, for the thicket was larger than he had thought and it was incumbent to move cautiously. Reaching the trees, he sat listening the indistinct mutter of a voice came to him. Slipping from his saddle, he crept into the undergrowth. It was nervous work; once he put a hand on a clammy, writhing form and heard a sharp hiss as the reptile slithered away. Sudden shivered.

  “Fools for luck,” he murmured. “If rattlers didn’t have to coil afore they can strike….”

  He did not pursue the unpleasant reflection, but pulled a gun and felt ahead with it before making a move. The voice was nearer now, only a few yards distant, but he could see nothing of the owner.

  “Make a good job of it an’ the two-fifty is yourn. yu’ll have a clear field when the cows start runnin’—which’ll be soon now. Them hombres will have suthin’ else to occupy ‘em.” The eavesdropper stiffened; he knew that voice. Navajo ! He could not hear the mumbled reply, but a cracking twig told him that the men were moving—away from him. As silently as speed would permit he retraced his steps, his brain busy with the problem so abruptly presented. Rogue’s men were to stampede the herd and something was to be tried. It was not difficult to guess what this was. He hurried to his horse, leapt into the saddle, and raced for the camp.

  The sight there drew an oath from his lips. Seated round the cook’s fire were Sam Eden, Jeff, and the two women; blanketed forms at the other fire were preparing for their turn of night riding; they were doomed to have their rest rudely interrupted. Sudden strode up to the foreman.

  “Jeff, I’ve just got wind of a plot to run off the cows—right now,” he cried. “Get busy—no time to talk.” He turned to his employer. “Yu didn’t oughta be here, seh,” he went on. “Yu. .

  An outburst of gun-fire and wild yells from over the plain, with the drumming thunder of thudding hooves cut him short. “God! they’ve done it!” he exclaimed.

  Stooping swiftly, he seized the seated cattleman by the shoulder and thrust him sideways to the ground. Almost at the same instant, a jet of yellow flame punctured the gloom surrounding the camp and a bullet buried itself in the log against which the invalid had been leaning.

  Sudden’s gun barked viciously, twice, and the reports were followed by the breaking of dead wood, as of a body falling among the bushes and then—silence. Half-crouched, his smoking weapon poised, the cowboy waited for one tense moment.

  “Guess I got him,” he said quietly. “Saw the glint o’ the fire on his gun-barrel—just in time.”

  “What th’ hell?” Eden began, as he struggled back to an upright position.

  “Explanations’ll have to wait,” Sudden told him. “Yu’d be better in the wagon, seh. That whelp over there had friends.” Though the foreman was at first stunned by the abruptness of the calamity his natural sturdiness soon reasserted itself. The awakened sleepers were sent to the rope corral for mounts, the cattleman, vehemently cursing his helplessness, was lifted back into the wagon, and the women ordered to stay in it also.

  “We’ll have to leave yu in charge o’ Peg-leg, Sam,” the foreman pointed out. “Mebbe we can git back some o’ the cows.”

  “Damn the cows,” the old man exploded. “Let daylight into the dirty thieves what rustled ‘em. Now, gimme a gun an’ get agoin’.”

  Sending the others on, Jeff and Sudden turned towards the spot whence the bushwhacker had fired. Sprawling in the undergrowth was the body of a man. Sudden turned it over and struck a match.

  “Lasker!” the foreman breathed. “Well, I’m damned.”

  Leaving the corpse in the bushes, they rode to the bedding-ground. Jeff was puzzling over this latest development.

  “Lasker, huh? Never did cotton to him, somehow,” he mused. “Likely he was planted on us, an’ mebbe we’ve binfollered right along.” He looked curiously at the man beside him. “How did yu git on to it, Jim?”

  Sudden told of the coyote calls and the fragment of conversation he had overheard, but did not reveal that he recognized one of the voices. He had just finished when a limping figure, carrying a saddle, loomed up out of the gloom. It proved to be Sandy.

  “Yu hurt?” Sudden asked, observing that the boy staggered. “Bullet burned my ribs—nothin’ broke,” was the reply. “What happened?” This from the foreman.

  “Yu can search me. First we knowed was the fireworks an’ the shoutin’–-they musta crept up on us. An’, believe me, them steers didn’t wait to ask questions none whatever. I tried to head ‘em off an’ some jasper started slingin’ lead—got my hoss too, blast his soul.”

  “Which way was the herd travellin’?” Jeff asked. “West—must be damn near the Pacific Slope by now,” was the bitter retort. “Gawd, what a mess! ”

  “How many of ‘em?”

  “Couldn’t say. It was as dark as the inside of a cow. I on’y saw the fella who creased me.

  Fancy I nicked him—heard him cuss.”

  Sandy having assured them he could make the camp unaided the other two rode on. Mile after mile was covered without a trace of the missing herd save the hoofprints which showed that they were following at least a portion of it. At length, in the dim, grey light of the dawn, they saw two riders, driving a bunch of about a hundred steers. They were less than half a mile distant and not hurrying, apparently deeming themselves safe from pursuit. Sudden pulled his rifle from the sheath.

  “Hold on, Jim, they may be our fellas,” Jeff warned. “They wouldn’t be headed west,”

  Sudden pointed out. “That’s so,” the foreman admitted, “but I’d ruther be shore than sorry. I’ll give ‘em a hail our boys would reckernize. They can’t outrun us with the cows.”

  His voice rang out in a shrill cowboy call, familiar on many ranges, but with variations Sudden had not heard before. The result dispelled their doubt effectively. The riders’ heads jerked round and then their right arms rose and fell as they vigorously plied the quirt. Sudden’s face was grim as he levelled his weapon.

  “Steady, boy,” he said to his horse, and pulled the trigger.

  They saw the pony on the right stumble and fall, throwing its rider headlong. The other man, with no more than a glance at his companion, spurred his mount furiously and soon left the herd behind. Sudden sent an unavailing shot which only served to hurry his movements. A few moments brought them to the fallen man and one look at the oddly-twisted, huddled form told them what had happened.

  “Kruk his neck,” Jeff said. “yu got the hoss. Damn good shootin’ too, at that range an’ from the saddle. Yu don’t know the gent, I s’pose, Jim?”

  The reply in the negative was not all the truth, for Sudden had seen the fellow during his sojourn with Rogue.

  “Well, let’s git after them cows,” the foreman said, adding harshly, “This ain’t my day for buryin’ cattle thieves.”

  The stolen steers had not run far and the S E men soon had them rounded up and pointed east again. The foreman’s expression as he regarded the recovered remnant of his charge was savagely morose. Sudden too was feeling the same. To have the patient endeavour and strenuous labour of many weeks so wantonly wrecked was a bitter bullet to bite on. So they rode in silence for an hour, and then, from the mouth of a shallow arroyo—a mere crack in the face of the plain—a horseman emerged and hailed th
em joyfully:

  “‘Lo, Jeff. So yu got some too?” It was Dumpy, and as he spoke, his sweaty, dirt-laden features broke into a tired grin of welcome. “Where’s the rest o’ the outfit?”

  The foreman raised his shoulders. “yu alone?” he asked.

  “Jed’s in there”—Dumpy pointed to the arroyo—“Can’t lose that fella nohow, an’ say, we got near three hundred cows. She’s a dandy place, plenty feed, a pond, an’ the way in is the on’y way out.”

  “See here, Jeff, why not fetch the wagon an’ camp in the arroyo?” Sudden suggested.

  “Two men could hold the herd in there while the rest of us comb the country.”

  “Yo’re right, Jim,” the foreman agreed. “She’s our best bet.”

  Having driven the beasts they had brought through the narrow entrance to the gully, they again rode east, taking Dumpy with them. As they approached the spot where the stampede had taken place the sight of cattle and encircling riders brought a lighter look to Jeff’s face. “We’ll make a herd yet, boy,” he said.

  “Shore we will,” Sudden rejoined.

  All the rest of the outfit were there with the exception of Truthful, of whom no one had any tidings save that he had been with the herd when it began to run. The other men, unable to stay the tide of terrified brutes, contented themselves with following bunches of them and, when the scare died out, driving them back. In this way they had salvaged over four hundred and a dozen horses.

  At the camp itself they found Sandy and Peg-leg sitting by the wagon with rifles. The women were inside with the invalid, who listened silently to his foreman’s report.

  “We’ve got around eight hundred an’ I guess we can search out enough others to go on,”

  Jeff concluded.

  The old man glared at him. “Yo’re damn right we’ll go on,” he rasped. “Get this, an’ get it straight: I said I’d make this drive an’ I’ll do it, if there’s on’y one blasted cow to take into Kansas.”

  “That goes with me, an’ with all of us, I reckon,” the foreman said quietly, and went on to tell of Sudden’s suggestion to move camp.

  “Sounds a good idea,” the cattleman agreed. He looked at the cowboy. “Young fella, I figure yu saved my life-though I shore thought yu’d gone loco. That lead pill went in just where my head had been, an’ I’m thankin’ yu. What had Lasker against me, Jeff?”

  “We’ve bin framed, Sam; they just waited their chance. Jim got one of ‘em.”

  He related the passing of the unknown rustler and the old man’s eyes glowed with savage approval.

  “One skulking thief less, anyways,” he grated. “I’m thankin’ yu again, Jim.”

  As they left the wagon, Peg-leg handed each of them a steaming mug and hurried away in search of his beloved mules. Jeff took a big gulp of the liquid and nodded at the retreating figure.

  “Peg used to ride hisself an’ he knows that `coffee at any time’ makes a cook the boys will swear by instead of at,” he remarked.

  The foreman went to give some instructions to the men and Sandy strolled up.

  “I’m owin’ yu somethin’, Jim,” he began, and noting his friend’s look of surprise, added,

  “For downin’ that rat, Lasker.”

  I’m beginnin’ to suspect that fella warn’t popular,” Sudden said. “Why gratitude from yu?”

  “Hell’s bells, didn’t he try to bump off the 01’ Man?” Sandy demanded.

  “O’ course, daddy-in-law to be, huh?” Sudden nodded comprehendingly. “But why ain’t yu in the hospital, swappin’ pains with him?”

  “For the same reason yu ain’t in a home for the half-witted —neither of us could qualify,” came the swift retort. “yo’re sufferin’ from the wrong nurse,” Sudden said shrewdly. “C’mon.

  What yu want is work, an’ its shorely waitin’ for yu.”

  They reached the herd–whither Jeff had preceded them—just after the missing rider, Truthful, had arrived, proudly escorting a score of steers. Ringed in by the rest, he was telling his story:

  “When the mix-up started, my horse went loco; he’s as strong as Satan’s breath, that roan is, an’ I couldn’t hold him. Where he took me I dunno but we rode around for”

  “Days,” Silent suggested.

  “Weeks,” corrected the Infant.

  “Hours, I was gain’ to say, though it seemed like days,” the narrator said. “When dawn arrove I found I was in the middle o’ the plain—”

  “Oh, bury me out on the lone pra-i-rie,” chanted the Infant, and was promptly promised that fate if he opened his face again.

  “There warn’t nothin’ in sight but a clump o’ scrub, mostly mesquite, an’ while I’m lookin’ at this out steps one solitary steer, an’ who’d yu think it was?”

  “The Bull o’ Bashan,” Sandy offered.

  “Never heard o’ the brand,” the tale-teller retorted. “No, gents, it was ol’ Show-‘em-how, shore as I’m standin’ here.”

  “Yu ain’t standin’—yo’re lyin’, Truthful,” sniggered Dumpy. Even Jeff laughed at this, and then commanded silence. “Go ahead, boy,” he said. “I wanta hear how yu rounded up them cows.”

  “I didn’t,” Truthful replied. “When of Show-‘em pops out I remarks aloud, `What’s th’ use o’ one damn cow anyways?’ Well, that moss-head looks at me solemn for ‘bout a minitan’ then stalks back into the brush. I figure 1 shorely hurt his feelin’s, but presently, out he comes again with eleven more along, sorta lines ‘em up, an’ cocks an eye at me. I points to the scrub.

  “Good for yu, ol-timer,’ I sez. `Fly at it—fetch ‘em all out. Sic ‘em.’

  “Shore enough he heads in again; the steers start to foller but he lets out one beller an’ they stops, mighty abrupt. Its mebbe half an hour before he shows up again with eight cows.

  “Ain’t there no more?’ I asks, an’ I wish I may die if he didn’t shake his head. Then he trots off across the plain, the rest tailin’ after, an’ here we are.”

  One by one the audience stepped forward, grasped the narrator’s right hand, shook it vigorously and retreated without a word. Truthful endured it with widening eyes until all but the foreman had taken part, and then: ’

  “Jeff, they think I’m stringin’ ‘em,” he cried.

  “Don’t yu care, son,” was the reply. “I’m believin’ yu, but” —there was a grin on the leathery face— “not until frawgs grows feathers.”

  Chapter XIII

  WITH the cattle and camp safely hidden in the arroyo, which two men could guard, the remainder of the outfit were free to scour the surrounding country in search of the scattered longhorns. This meant a repetition of the work done when the herd was got together, many hours of hard riding, the routing of beasts out of brush-choked gullies and thorny chaparral.

  Despite the difficulties, additions to the herd dribbled in and with each one the foreman’s face grew less sombre. On the fifth day, however, some of the searchers returned empty-handed, though still nearly half the oattle were missing.

  “They musta got away with over a thousand head, reckonin’ they’d lose some we ain’t found,” Jeff said. “We might as well push on; we won’t find many more.”

  “Hold on for another day,” Sudden advised, “an’ let me an’ Sandy have Jed an’ Dumpy tomorrow.”

  The foreman agreed without question; he was beginning to realize that this cool, capable young cowboy usually had a reason for anything he said or did.

  On the following morning the four men set out. Jed, as ever, had his grumble: “Waste o’ time. Betcha we don’t git a cow a-piece.”

  Sandy grinned at his friend. “Don’t tell ‘em,” he whispered. “Shore not,” Sudden said.

  “Besides, the nest may be empty; the joke would be on us then.”

  It had been on the first day that the pair of them, returning after a fruitless foray through a broken patch of country some twelve miles from camp, halted abruptly on the edge of a wide swathe of cattle-tracks. The fact that the beasts
had been bunched together, and the prints of shod horses alongside, told that they had been driven. The S E men followed the trail to a small, hidden valley, rock-rimmed the narrow entrance to which was masked by a great boulder and further defended by a rude fence of poles lashed together with rawhide, two of which could be moved to permit passage. Riding through, they found a grass-covered basin in which some hundreds of cows were feeding. There appeared to be no one in charge, and they had no difficulty in getting near enough to read the brand on the nearest beast.

  “S E,” Sandy cried exultantly. “Jim, our luck has shorely changed; here’s a sight that’ll make Jeff’s eyes stick out like they was on stalks. Do we round ‘em up?”

  Sudden shook his head. “Here’s how I figure it,” he explained. “Rogue’s men couldn’t hold the herd no more’n we could. They’re combin’ the country too an’ bringin’ ‘em here as they gather ‘em. I’m bettin’ that if we call again in a few days’ time we’ll find twice as many.”

  Sandy let out a whoop. “Jim, yo’re a great man,” he said. “The notion o’ lettin’ them skunks collect cows for us hits me where I live.”

  So they had left the valley undisturbed and for the ensuing days had ridden in other directions. It had been a gamble, and they were now on their way to learn if they had lost or won.

  If the rustlers had removed their plunder… .

  They reached the spot, and leaving Sandy on guard outside, the others rode into the valley. One glance told Sudden that he had guessed correctly; the herd had more than doubled; roughly he estimated it at nearly a thousand head, with a sprinkling of horses. His companions yelped gleefully.

  “Seems we might git a cow a-piece arter all, Jed,” the fatman remarked. “Wish I’d took that bet. Why didn’t yu take him up, Jim?”

  “They might not ‘a’ been here,” Sudden smiled. “We’ll have one fine job handlin’ ‘em; I didn’t expect so many.”