Sudden Makes War (1942) Page 11

  Sudden shouted a command to halt, but no notice being taken, he spoke a word which galvanized the black into instant action; like a living thunderbolt, the animal shot forward, the ground sliding beneath the spurning hooves and the sound of them clearly reached the fugitive. A quick backward look, an oath, and something fell from his hand. Without slackening pace, Sudden swung down sideways, one legcrooked across the saddle, secured the object, and straightened up. A glance showed him that it was Yorky's rifle. He was now only a dozen yards away from his quarry; his hand went first to his gun, then to his rope. The coils spun out, the loop settled over the shoulders of the runaway, and the black stopped as though shot. Seconds later, the snared man was plucked from his seat as by a giant hand, to be flung heavily on his back. Sudden dismounted, his face pitiless. The other two cowboys, who had heard his shout, now came up.

  "Why did yu run, Bundy?" was the first question.

  "Didn't wanta git shot in the back," was the impudent reply.

  "Didn't like yore own medicine, huh?" Sudden went on, and did not fail to note the flicker in the man's eyes. "Yu came damn near gettin' a dose, would have, if I hadn't wanted some information."

  "Go ahead. Mebbe I'll give it."

  "Mebbe you'd better; I've got ways o' persuadin' folk--ask yore friend Flint, if yu ever see him again. Yu can stand up on yore hind-legs an' shuck the rope. I don't s'pose yu'll try anythin' but I hope--yu will." When the man was on his feet, he added sharply: "Where did yu get that gun yu dropped?"

  "Found it."

  "Right. I'm lookin' for the owner, an' yo're goin' to help. Lead his hoss, Tiny--the gent prefers to walk."

  "Me, walk?" Bundy protested angrily. "You can't do that."

  "Not likely, but yu can," Sudden grinned. "An' I hope, for yore sake, we don't have to go far."

  The prisoner's fury deprived him of caution. "How'n hell should I know where the brat--" He stopped, aware that he had been betrayed into a folly. The grim faces of the three men apprised him that he was in grave peril. An inspiration came. "Awright, I'll tell, though I promised not to," he said. "I met the hobo kid totin' that gun, which I figured he'd pinched. He sold it to me for twenty bucks--told me he was sick to death o' the West an' wanted to git to Noo York. Last I see of him he was makin' for the Bend."

  Sudden stepped forward, snatched out the man's gun, and examined it; one chamber contained an empty shell. "I shot at a rattler--an' missed," Bundy explained.

  Bleak eyes bored into his. "Another lie from yu an' I'll be shootin' at one, an' I won't miss," Sudden rasped. "Climb yore hoss; if we don't find Yorky, alive an' well, yu hang."

  "Say, Jim, why not string him up now, an' if the kid's all right, we can come back an' cut him down," Blister suggested.

  Bundy's expression became more uneasy; he knew that the proposal was not so jocular as it sounded; there was no mirth in the speaker's voice.

  "There was nothin' the matter with him when we parted," he said. "I'm tellin' you."

  "What yu tell us ain't evidence," Sudden replied dryly. "Lead on to where yu last saw him, an' if yore memory fails yu, pray--hard."

  Grey-faced, the prisoner got into his saddle, and Tiny dropped the loop of the lariat over his shoulders again. He was trapped, and the only hope of saving his skin lay in finding that accursed boy. For this saturnine, black-haired stranger, who had thwarted him for the second time, had not the appearance of one to make idle threats. So he obeyed the order, conscious that, at the least sign of treachery, the drawn guns behind him would speak. Fifteen minutes later he halted his horse.

  "It was somewheres aroun' here," he said. "Wanted the way to the Bend, he did, an' I told him to point for that block o' pines, an' keep goin'."

  They reached the trees, dark and forbidding in the fading rays of the sun.

  "He wouldn't go through," Sudden decided. "Which way round did yu tell him?"

  "To the left," Bundy returned sullenly.

  "We'll try the right--he may not have believed yu neither."

  They circled the little forest, and had gone less than half a mile when the search ended; at the sight of the boy lying beside the body of his pony, Sudden rapped out an oath, and the grip on his gun tightened; the Wagon-wheel foreman was very near to death at that moment. Had not Yorky lifted his head...

  "Jim," he cried. "I knowed yer'd come." His red, swollen eyes rested on Bundy, and then travelled to the new scabbard hanging on the puncher's saddle-horn. "Gimme my gat," he added hoarsely.

  "Easy, son," Sudden replied. "What happened?"

  The tale was soon told. He had strayed further than he intended, and had the bad luck to meet Bundy, who chased, roped, and threw him. When he stood up, he was knocked down again, despoiled of his rifle, and ordered to get out of the country for good, or he would be shot. "Then he killed pore of Shut-eye, the rotten, cowardly--" The quavering, high-pitched voice trailed off in a venomous string of epithets to terminate in a spasm of coughing.

  "Yu didn't go," Sudden said.

  "I started, but when he rid off, I come back--ter my pal."

  Bundy saw the faces of his captors grow more and more rigid as the damning recital proceeded. He must say something, or wish the world good-bye.

  "All lies," he said. "I bought an' paid for his gun, an' he asked me to finish off the hors--claimed to be scared the Bend folk might think he'd stole it."

  "Blister, search the boy, an' his saddle pockets, an' see how much coin he has," the puncher ordered.

  The cowboy did the job thoroughly, even making Yorky take off his boots. "One dollar an' two bits," Blister announced, when the operation was completed.

  Sudden looked at the convicted liar. "Get down," he said. A turn of the wrist sent the noose clear of the captive's head, and the puncher coiled the rope as he walked towards him, and threw it on the ground.

  "I've met up with some pretty scaly reptiles, but yu top the list, Bundy," he began quietly. "yu know this lad is in pore health, yet yu yank him out'n the saddle, beat him up, steal his gun, shoot his hoss, an' turn him loose to tramp to the Bend. Even if he knowed the way, with night comin' on, no food an' no blanket, it was a shore thing he'd never make it, an' yu meant he shouldn't. What yu aimed at was plain murder. Got anythin' against him, or was it just because he belongs to the Circle Dot?"

  The foreman's face grew darker. "He's a dirty little snitch; it was him wised you up 'bout the Bend affair, an' lost me twenty-five thousand bucks," he growled. "Ain't that enough?"

  Sudden was surprised, but did not show it. Where had Bundy obtained this information? Only he, Dan, Burke, and Yorky knew the inner history of the hold-up; perhaps the boy himself had boasted. Anyway, that problem could wait; there was a more pressing one on hand. He replied to the ruffian's question.

  "Dessay yu've killed for less," he said acidly, and paused, weighing up the situation. "I oughta leave yu on a tree, but mebbe yu were a man once, an' yu shall have a chance to die like one." He threw Bundy's gun on the grass. "If yu get me, yu go free. Pick her up."

  "An' be downed while I'm stoopin'," the other jeered.

  "I won't draw till yo're all set," Sudden said contemptuously.

  The promise--which he did not doubt--made the Wagon-wheel man think. To offer such a great advantage, his opponent must be infernally fast or a fool, and Bundy had good reason to know that he was not the latter. His confidence in his own prowess was shaken. Another thought came, a desperate expedient; if he could kill Green, he did not fear his companions--they would be taken by surprise and unable to act immediately.

  He bent quickly, grasped the gun and, instead of rising, tilted the muzzle upwards and pulled the trigger. Even as he did so, Sudden--watching for some such act of treachery--drew and fired. Bundy's shot missed by a bare inch, and before he could repeat the attempt his weapon was driven from his grip by the puncher's bullet. He clawed for it with his other hand, but Sudden sprang in, kicked it away, and sheathing his own gun, cried:

  "Stand up, yu yella dawg, an' t
ake what's comin' to yu."

  Bundy was ready enough; he knew that ninety-nine men out of a hundred would instantly have driven a bullet through him after the failure of his dastardly trick; he had been lucky to meet the hundredth; but with the passing of the shadow of death, his hatred of the man who had spared him increased. Truly, with some natures, a favour from a foe is a bitter pill to swallow.

  Bandy had one more remark to make. "Them friends o' yourn keepin' outa this?"

  "They won't be my friends if they interfere," Sudden said.

  "Good enough," the foreman replied. His confidence in

  himself was returning. He had a well-earned reputation as an

  exponent of the rough and tumble frontier method of settling quarrels. "I've bin waitin' to put my paws on you for an interferin' houn'."

  "Yu couldn't find me, o' course," Sudden sneered. "I bide my time. I got the kid, an' yo're here."

  "Well, what are yu waitin' for, the dark, so that yu can run away again?"

  The taunt got through the foreman's hide, tough as it was. "No," he bellowed. "Here I come," and rushed in with fists flying.

  "An' there yu go," Sudden retorted, as he drove a lightning left to the face which sent the man reeling.

  He staggered to his feet and fought back with blind fury, reckless of the hurt he received, driven by an insensate desire to get his enemy by the throat and slowly squeeze the life out of him. But he had little chance against one who used his head as well as hands; straight jolts to the jaw and body met his wild rushes, and battered down his feeble defence. Opposed to that scientific hammering, his savage lunges were of no avail.

  Once only a swinging fist got past the Circle Dot man's guard, and floored him. But he was up instantly, and when Bundy, with a shout of exultation, dashed in, he was met with a tempest of blows which drove him back, foot by foot, until, with every bone in his body aching, and both eyes nearly closed, he dropped his arms. Only for a second, but like a flash, Sudden's right came over and sent him, spent and apparently helpless, to the ground. There he lay, breathing heavily, and making no effort to rise.

  "I reckon he's through," Tiny remarked. All of them had watched the combat in silence. "There ain't a kick left in him."

  Tiny was wrong; no sooner had he voiced the thought than Bundy's head lifted.

  "yo're a damn liar," he mumbled through puffed lips. "I'm goin' to show you."

  Incredible as it seemed, after the punishment he had taken, he heaved himself upright, shook as a dog might after rolling, and stood, long arms swinging. Then he bent and plunged forward. Sudden waited, wondering; there could be no more fight in the fellow, and yet ... The menacing figure was on him, fists raised, before he realized the fell design--he had but a second to act; the ruffian's right foot was sweeping up to deliver a savage kick in the stomach which might kill, or disable a man for life. Quick as thought, Sudden jumped aside, seized the ascending limb behind the ankle and forced it upwards. The foreman, thrown completely off his balance, struck the ground violently with the back of his head; this time, there was no movement. The victor cold, inscrutable, stood over him.

  "Ain't bruk his neck, have you, Jim?" Tiny asked.

  "No, that still remains for a rope," Sudden replied. "Put Yorky's saddle an' bridle on this brute's hoss."

  Bundy heard the order, and had sufficient life left in him to understand what it meant. "You settin' me afoot--after this?" he snarled.

  "Yo're gettin' a taste o' what yu cooked up for the boy, an' lucky at that--we oughta be plantin' yu."

  The foreman knew it, and said no more. Not until they had melted into the growing dusk did he struggle, with many groans and curses, to his feet, and, carrying his riding-gear, set out on the nightmare journey to the Wagon-wheel. For to one who spent nearly the whole of his waking hours in the saddle, and whose body was one big bruise, the long march over rough ground could only be unspeakable torture.

  Something of this was in the puncher's mind when Tiny reproached him for not settling the affair straight-away after Bundy's cowardly attempt had failed.

  "I wanted him to suffer, an' I'll bet right now he's near wishin' I'd downed him," Sudden replied harshly. "After what he fixed up for Yorky ..." He turned to the youth. "Mebbe yu oughta go away for a spell."

  "I'm stayin'," Yorky said stoutly. "Me an' that foreman feller ain't finished yet."

  The puncher smiled into the darkness, glad of this fresh proof that his protege was game. "Well, keep clear o' the Wagon-wheel, though it bothers me how they got hep. Anybody see yu there?"

  "I met Miss Trenton on th' way back," the boy admitted.

  "She may've mentioned it, an' if my hoss was spotted in the Bend, that'd be enough," Sudden decided.--- The whoop of welcome which went up when the rest of the outfit saw that the missing one was of the party, broughta warmth into the waif's heart; these were his friends. In that moment the big city lost him for ever.

  Chapter XII

  Trenton and Garstone stared in undisguised astonishment when, in response to a summons from the former, Bundy came to the ranch-house in the afternoon. He had reached the Wagon-wheel about sunrise, almost dead on his feet, and dropping on the pallet-bed--he had his own quarters--slept like a log from sheer exhaustion. Despite his attempt to do so, he could not remove all traces of the terrible treatment he had undergone; the blackened, swollen eyes, gashed lips, missing teeth, and battered face told an eloquent tale.

  "What in hell's happened to you?" Zeb enquired. "Been trampled on by a herd?"

  The foreman had his version ready. "I was ridin' back last evenin' when I run into Green an' two o' the Circle Dot fellas. They come on me unawares, roped an' threw me, an' got my gun. Then they set about me--I'd no chance agin three, an' one of 'em that big chap they call Tiny. When I was all in, they went off with my hoss. I had to hoof it home, an' I warn't in any good shape for that neither."

  The rancher's face grew purple as he listened; he took the affair as a personal insult. "Three to one?" he cried. "It's a fine thing if my men have to ask the Circle Dot's permission to ride the range. I've a mind to call the boys an' have it out with Dover an' his bullies right away."

  "What would that get you?" Garstone asked.

  "Somethin' I've sworn to have--the Circle Dot," Trenton replied.

  "No, only a forty thousand dollar mortgage which you couldn't meet," the other returned coolly. "I don't suppose Maitland would be any more generous to you."

  Trenton's bluster collapsed like a punctured balloon. "Yo're right," he said moodily.

  "I usually am," Garstone agreed serenely. Modesty was not one of his weaknesses.

  "If yo're worryin' over payin' my score you needn't to," Bundy growled. "I'll 'tend to that my own self--int'rest an' all."

  "Touching the acquisition of the Circle Dot, we don't seem to be getting any nearer," the Easterner remarked sarcastically. "Have you made any progress?"

  "Very little. Maitland might renew on the security of the two ranches, though we owe him quite a lot already, but that would only mean gettin' deeper in. No, we'll have to fall back on the plan I had in mind--to find Red Rufe's Cache."

  "A tale for a tenderfoot?" the foreman fleered. "If that's our on'y hope, we can wish the Circle Dot a fond fare-youwell as' no error."

  The rancher's face stiffened. "The thrashin' seems to have destroyed yore manners as well as beauty, Bundy," he said coldly. "You can go."

  Like a scolded dog the man came to heel instantly. "Sorry, Boss, I was disappointed," he pleaded. "If there'd bin any-thin' in that yarn, the Cache would 'a' come to light by this; plenty has searched for it."

  "True, but the Cloudy country is large and terribly difficult; unless one knew just where to look, findin' the proverbial needle in a haystack would be child's play in comparison."

  "And you have this information?" Garstone asked eagerly. "Not quite, or I should have made use of it before now," Trenton replied. "This is how the matter stands: Red Rufe was Dave Dover's elder brother. He le
ft Rainbow, went further West, an' made a fortune and reputation as a gambler. Report has it that he sent a letter to Dave, statin' that he had hidden his wealth, an' givin' the approximate location--said to be in the Cloudy Hills. A second message was to follow with instructions for findin' the exact spot. This one miscarried, an', quite by chance, came into my hands."

  "So that's why Flint and Rattray visited the Circle Dot?" Garstone said.

  "Certainly. I hoped they would find the first letter. Flint was on the track of it when he made a fool of himself an' got fired."

  "Then you are not sure it is concealed in the Cloudy Hills?"

  "No, but the fellow who fetched the first letter said Rufe handed it to him there; that's all anyone knows except--Dover."

  Garstone made a gesture of impatience. "That means our knowledge is useless," he said irritably.

  "yore wits don't seem to be workin' this afternoon, Ches," Trenton returned equably. "Listen: the Circle Dot needs money even more than we do; what do you suppose they will do?"

  "Try to find the Cache, possibly."

  "Certainly, 1 should say, an' in doin' so will give us the information we now lack," the rancher said triumphantly. "I'm havin' a watch kept on their movements, an' when they start, we'll follow. Once we know the locality, we have the advantage of being able to go straight to the hidin'-place while they are gropin' in the dark."

  "That's a great scheme, Boss," Bundy complimented, his damaged features contorted in a painful grin. "If we can collect the pot, we'll have Dover an' his crowd yappin' for mercy--an' not gettin' it."

  "It's undoubtedly a fine chance," Garstone admitted, and he was looking at the foreman when he spoke. "Any idea what the Cache consists of?"

  "No one knows," Trenton replied. "Gold, in coin or dust, possibly paper too."

  "What became of this Rufe person?"

  "Vanished after the second message. Went back to his cardsharpin', I expect, an' got wiped out. He was a big fellow, very upright--his back was the only straight thing about him. He had red hair, like all the Devers, an' a fiend of a temper, the sort of man to make more foes than friends."