Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 09 - Sudden Makes War(1942) Read online

  “Big rangy black, with a white blaze on the face; mustang breed, I’d say; a fine critter,” the old man replied. “Worth a fortun’ to a road-agent.”

  The foreman needed no more; there could be only one such horse in all the district. He came out of the dive afire with a fury which increased with every mile of the long ride home. So it was Green and two of the Circle Dot outfit who had cheated him—for so he regarded it. Had they kept the money it would have hurt less, but to be outplayed and made an object of derision by men he hated, cut him to the bone. Once, dismounting, he stood for a few seconds in a half-crouch, then snatched out his gun and sent the six shots in rapid succession at a thin sapling a dozen yards distant. Stepping to the tree, he noted that every bullet had chipped the bark at the same height. Reloading the weapon, he got back into the saddle, his teeth bared in a Satanic grin of satisfaction.

  “I’m as good as I ever was,” he muttered. “Look to yoreself. Mister blasted Green.”

  Arrived at the ranch, he went in search of Garstone, but failed to find him. The Easterner had, in fact, ridden into Rainbow with Miss Trenton. On reaching the place, however, they had separated for the time and so she was alone when Dan almost bumped into her as he came out of the store. He raised his hat and would have gone on, but she stopped and smiled.

  “Why do you always try to avoid me?” she asked.

  Dan had little experience of the so-called fair sex, or he would have recognized the age-old device of putting an opponent in the wrong, so the accusation staggered him. But he was a fighter, and he had already decided that this slim, prepossessing girl could only be handled with the gloves off.

  “I guess I must be hopin’ you’d run after me,” he smiled impudently.

  The unlooked-for reply discomposed her, and all she could say was, “Not if you were the only man in the world.”

  The smile broadened into a grin. “You’d have to travel some then,” he said. “Think o’ the competition. Gee! I’d shore have to live in the tall timber.”

  Despite her irritation, the absurd picture he conjured up made her laugh. The parcel he was carrying provided a change of subject; the shape showed that it could only be a rifle.

  “More preparations against your own kind?” she asked sarcastically.

  “Precautions is a better word,” he corrected. “An’ don’t you call the Wagon-wheel outfit my kind—they ain’t. Anyways, this happens to be a present for a good boy. I fancy you know him.”

  “Yorky?”

  “The same. He did me a service an’ I want to even up.”

  “Wasn’t there anything else you could choose? He’s only a child.” She herself was less than three years older.

  “I reckon he never was that, but he’s due to be some sort of a man, an’ we’d like it to be a real one.”

  “And that will help?” she enquired, a little scornfully. “Quite a lot. We’re gettin’ him interested in work on the range an’ this is part of it. If you’d seen Yorky two months ago you wouldn’t recognize him.”

  “Well, I hope he’ll like his gift.”

  “Like it?” Dan laughed. “He’ll take it to bed with him.”

  She laughed too, and then her face sobered. “I must go,” she said. “Mister Garstone brought me in, and is waiting.” Hat in hand, he watched the two meet, and pass up the street together. The man’s face was registering disapproval when the girl reached him, but all he said was:

  “Had the cowboy anything of interest to tell you?”

  She divined that he was jealous, and the thought thrilled, though she had not yet troubled to analyse her own feeling regarding him. But she was young, and the admiration of a physically attractive man, who had at least a semblance of culture, could not be entirely unwelcome. Still, she had no intention of letting him suspect this, and it was in rather a distant tone that she replied:

  “I was under the impression that Mister Dover owned a ranch.”

  “Thinks he does, but maybe he’s mistaken,” Garstone told her. “I wasn’t asking out of curiosity, Miss Trenton. The Wagon-wheel and Circle Dot are practically at war, and that fellow might have let slip information of value to us.”

  “Our conversation was confined to the youngest member of his outfit—the boy they call yorky.”

  “Member of his outfit—that’s a good one,” Garstone sneered. “I’d call him a bit of useless lumber.”

  “Hardly that, since Mister Dover has just purchased a present as a reward for good work.”

  “Dover must have wanted a pocket picked.”

  “You must not speak ill of my admirers,” she said playfully.

  “Why, quite recently, he rode to the Wagon-wheel just to see where I lived. There’s devotion.”

  “The devil he did?” Garstone said. “When was that?”

  She thought for a moment. “Oh yes, I remember; it was the day before that amusing attempt to rob the train. How awfully sick the second party must have felt on finding they had been anticipated, but it was childish to vent their spite on poor uncle’s flour.”

  Garstone had little to say during the rest of the ride home, and seeing Bundy as they approached the ranch-house, made his excuses to his companion, and rode towards him. “Any news?” he asked.

  “Plenty,” the foreman frowned. “The fella who took the stuff back to the bank was atop of a black hoss with a white blaze.”

  “Green!” Garstone exploded. “I knew it.”

  “Then you might ‘a’ opened up an’ saved me a journey,” the other said sourly.

  “I didn’t learn of it until a little while ago,” the big man replied, and repeated what the girl had told him. “We heard a movement in that tree we were talking under and put it down to birds.

  That young sneak must have seen us coming, and hopped up there to hide. He’d take the tale back to Green, and that damned cowboy out-planned and made monkeys of us. God! I’ll bet the Circle Dot riders haven’t stopped laughing yet.”

  “They’ll have somethin’ else to grin about afore I’ve done with ‘em,” the foreman growled.

  “As for Green …” He tapped the butt of his gun. “He’s for hell.”

  “The trouble is, they know who were in it,” Garstone said, rather uneasily. “If they split to Trenton …”

  “Can’t prove a thing—it’s their word agin ourn,” Bundy reassured. “As for puttin’ Zeb wise, Dover wouldn’t do that if he knowed the of fool was to be bumped off tomorrow. No, I ain’t worryin’ ‘bout that; it’s the pot we’ve bin done out of. Why’n blazes didn’t I send a slug into that damned tree?”

  “No use moaning over a lost opportunity; we must find another. Trenton has a scheme; perhaps that will be luckier—for us,” the Easterner said meaningly. “How are you going to deal with Green?”

  “Watch my smoke,” the foreman said.

  Garstone shrugged. “Watch your step; he doesn’t look a simple proposition to me,” was his reply. “Fie sports two guns.”

  “A bluff, meanin’ nothin’,” Bundy sneered. “Take it from me, the fella who can really shoot on’y needs one gun an’ one shot; mos’ly there ain’t time for more.”

  In the front room at the Circle Dot, Yorky was clutching the Winchester and scabbard Dan had brought home and presented to him. Usually loquacious enough, his gratitude and delight in this new possession nearly deprived him of speech.

  “I dunno—how ter—thank yer, Boss,” he stammered. “I didn’t do nuttin’—it was jus’ blind luck, an’ I …” He bogged down completely.

  “Cut the cackle, Yorky,” Dan said kindly. “you did a-plenty, an’ I’m rememberin’ it. Jim’ll show you how to handle the gun, an’ you got all outdoors to blaze away in. Now, I’m bettin’ you wanta cut along an’ show the boys.”

  “You win, Boss,” Yorky grinned, and made for the door. There he paused to add, “I ain’t forgettin’ this—ever,” and was gone.

  “I’m thinkin’ that li’l of Noo York has lost a citizen,” Burke laughed.
<
br />   “An’ Rainbow gains one, thanks to Jim,” Dover said.

  “Rubbish,” the puncher replied. “How long d’yu s’pose afore one o’ them Wagon-wheel wastrels comes a-gunnin’ for me?”

  “But why?” they both asked.

  “I rode my own hoss into the Bend; somebody must ‘a’ spotted it. I needed Nigger to make shore o’ gettin’ there before the train; I did it easy—the country bein’ less difficult than I figured.”

  “It was certainly a risk, but you would have it thataway,” Dan said, so seriously that the puncher laughed.

  “Shucks! Fella who never takes one, takes nothin’,” he rejoined. “Mebbe I’m wrong.”

  And when a week passed without anything occurring to disturb the serenity of the Circle Dot, it began to appear so. Every morning Yorky would depart for what the outfit called his “cure,” the cherished rifle slapping against his pony’s ribs. and would be absent for hours, frightening the birds, and making life a misery for any wandering jack-rabbit or coyote so unfortunate as to come within range, to return, tired but happy, and with a capacity for food which drew from the cook the ironical suggestion that he had contracted “Wur-r-ms.”

  “Gwan, yer human gas-bag,” Yorky retorted, when the accusation was made. “I’m a small eater.”

  “Shure it’s so, but ye pack away enough for wan twice the size o’ ye,” Paddy told him.

  When late afternoon came and brought no sign of the boy, the cook grew anxious, and went to the foreman. “Faith, he’ll not be missin’ a meal willin’,” he said.

  Burke looked grave; it was no country for a tenderfoot to get lost in, and there was a possibility of accident. He told the cook he would send the men out again as they came in.

  Sudden, with Blister and Tiny were the first to arrive, and they set off at once for the pool, which yorky made the starting-point of his excursions. They found plenty of tracks, but it was impossible to tell which were the most recent.

  “Spread out fan-wise, but keep within hail,” Sudden said. “If he’s hurt, whoever finds him may need help.”

  The ground was fairly open, with thickets of scrub here and there, most of them too dense and thorny for anything but a tough-hided animal to penetrate. Save for a brief glance, the searchers paid them no attention; neither Yorky nor his mount would fancy their exploration.

  The short, dried grass showed no marks, and Sudden rode straight on, trusting to luck. It came his way, for after they had left the pool several miles behind, a horseman loped from the far side of a larger patch of brush some hundreds of yards ahead, and at the sight of the newcomer spurred his pony in an evident attempt to escape.

  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 Shuteye, 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.