Sudden: Takes the Trail Read online

  The women present, for the most part, were employed by the house to dance and drink with the customers; their painted faces and tawdry attire proclaimed the fact.

  The saloon was filling up, and the jangle of the ill-treated piano mingled with the medley of voices. No sooner had the marshal entered than a golden-haired girl in a crumpled muslin frock which displayed her figure somewhat freely, minced up and caught his arm.

  “Buy me a drink,” she invited. “I like cowboys.” Sudden slipped a bill into her hand.

  “Get yoreself one,” he said. “I’m playin’ another game tonight.” She shrugged her bare shoulders. “Dame Fortune is hard to woo,” she said. “You would find me less difficult.” She thrust the money into the breast of her dress, and her bold eyes softened. “Good luck, friend, but—don’t buck the wheel —for much.” The last words were a mere whisper, spoken as she skipped away to be instantly caught in the arms of another man and dragged to the dancing floor.

  The marshal joined the crowd round the roulette board, and soon saw that the girl’s warning had been well-meant; the wheel was under the control of the operator, who allowed small bets to win; worth-while wagers almost always lost. He collected a few dollars and drifted to the bar. A frowsy, half-tipsy fellow of about forty was arguing with the man behind it.

  “You know me, Len,” he said. “I’ve spent a lot o’ coin here, an’ now, when I’m cleaned, you won’t stake me to a drink.”

  “You know the rule, Lumpy,” Len replied, and jerked a thumb at a big notice behind him which read, “No trust.”

  “Have one with me,” Sudden suggested, laying down a dollar.

  “Why, that’s mighty gen’rous o’ you, stranger,” Lumpy said, and grabbed the glass eagerly.

  “Shucks ! ” was the smiling reply. “I’ve been thirsty my own self.”

  “I dunno nothin’ wuss,” Lumpy said. “I once went three year without a man’s drink, an’ ”

  He stopped, staring amazedly at his benefactor, who was rolling a smoke. “You ain’t him, but you got his baccy-box, or the twin of it,” he muttered.

  “Know a fella who carries one o’ these?” the marshal asked carelessly.

  “Useter, but ain’t seen him for a long whiles.”

  “This atmosphere would poison a dawg. I’m for fresh air. Comin’?” The other finished his liquor and followed. In the dark of the street, lessened only by the glow of an occasional lighted window, Sudden spoke again:

  “I’d give twenty bucks to find the owner o’ that box.” The drunkard’s eyes gleamed; he would have parted with his soul for that amount. His story was brief. He had known the man, who called himself “Ezra Kent,” some two years earlier, in Bentley, but could not say what had become of him.

  Sudden thought this over. The name fitted the initials, of which his informant had no knowledge. Bentley was about a hundred miles north, and possessed a prison; he remembered the enforced abstinence, smiled, and asked what Kent was doing there?

  “Time,” was the laconic answer. “He was in with his buddy—fellow Ezra called `Jesse’—but I didn’t know him. What were they like? Well, now you got me—men look pretty much the same in the pen. Both was biggish built, an’ favoured each other some. No, I ain’t set eyes on neither of ‘em since.” Satisfied that the fellow could tell him no more, Sudden handed over the promised reward, and returned to the hotel.

  Darkness was only beginning to give way to daylight when an urgent rap on the door awakened him. It proved to be the bar-tender.

  “There’s a man for breakfast this mornin’, friend, an’ if I was you I wouldn’t wait for none,” he said. “We’ve a back way to the stables, an’ by keepin’ behind the buildin’s you can git clear o’ the town without bein’ seen.”

  “A killin’, huh?” the marshal asked. “What I gotta do with that?”

  “Nothin’, I reckon, which is why I’m warnin’ you, but he was last seen alive in yore comp’ny, when you took him out’n the Square Deal. Where’d you go after?”

  “That fella? Why, we talked a bit outside an’ then I came along here. He told me somethin’ I wanted to know an’ I gave him twenty dollars.”

  “He was found, stabbed in the back with his own knife, an’ pockets empty. They’re routin’ out the sheriff now, an’ knowin’ his methods, you ain’t got a chance.”

  “Runnin’ away will pin the crime on me,” Sudden objected.

  “Mebbe, but it’ll make it possible for you to go on breathin’,” the barman said drily. “I know this burg.” The marshal saw the argument was sound. So, with a word of thanks to this friend in need, he hurried to the stable, saddled his horse, and slipped away unobserved.

  He covered the first few miles at full speed, and then, satisfied that he was safe from pursuit, since they could not know which way he had taken, slowed down, his brain busy with what he had discovered. He shook his head in despair.

  “Nig, I’m gettin’ my rope all snarled up,” he confided. “Stretch yore legs, yu black rascal, an’ head for breakfast; I never could think on an empty belly.”

  Chapter XIV

  “WHERE’S the body?” was the greeting the marshal received from Dave on his return.

  “I left it behind,” he replied, truthfully enough.

  Not another word could be got out of him until he had dealt fully with the food Sloppy hastened to prepare for him.

  “Havin’ fortified yore system against famine for the next twenty-four hours, is there anythin’ else yu need?” Dave inquired, with elaborate sarcasm.

  “Yeah, a smoke,” Sudden smiled, and got out his makings. As he rolled the little tube, he added casually, “Ever heard of a jasper named Ezra Kent?” Both shook their heads, but into the elder man’s eyes crept the apprehensive look which the marshal had seen before.

  “We gotta find him—he owns that box. Also, Mister Lyman—who is shorely one o’

  Nature’s mistakes—has Sark hawg-tied, which requires lookin’ into.” Dave was gazing out of the window. “yu got yore chance right now,” he remarked. “There’s Jesse, agoin’ into the Red Light.”

  “Good,” the marshal said, getting up. “No, yu two stay put—we don’t want a crowd.” He found Nippert and the rancher alone; the latter accosted him genially.

  “‘Lo, marshal, glad you come in. I’ve just bin backin’ down to Ned, an’ that goes for you too. Reckon I was all wrong ‘bout Jake—he’s crooked, that fella, an’ I’m through with him; he’s made trouble enough for me a’ready.” Sudden exchanged glances with the saloon-keeper, noted the slight nod, and replied fatuously, “Why, that’s good hearin’, Mister Sark. Me, I never was one to nurse a grudge.”

  “Fine,” the Dumbbell man said, with a great show of heartiness. “Set ‘em up, Ned.” He laughed ruefully as he raised his glass. “It won’t be pleasant to eat crow to John Owen, but I’ll have to, I guess.”

  “Here’s to a better understandin’,” the marshal toasted.

  They drank, and Nippert’s grin told that he had grasped the inner meaning of the last word. When the visitor called for cigars, Sudden decided in favour of a cigarette. The appearance of the brass box made Sark start violently, and when he spoke, his voice was not quite the same.

  “That’s an unusual thing for a cowpunch to carry,” he said hoarsely. “Where’d you git it?”

  “Picked it up—recent,” was the offhand reply.

  “Dessay there’s hundreds aroun’, but it’s the first I’ve seen. What’ll you take for it?” The marshal made a negative gesture. “I’ve got fond o’ the durned contraption, an’ it keeps my baccy moist.” He lighted his cigarette and put the box away. “I hear Drywash is gettin’ to be quite a town; I must look it over one day.”

  “I ain’t bin there in weeks,” Sark lied. “Too many saloons an’ dance-halls. I’ve bin thinkin’ it’s time I settled down, with a woman o’ my own.”

  “If you’ve come a-courtin’, Welcome ain’t got much to offer,” the saloon-keeper said.
r />   “Bah ! ” Sark cut in. “There’s on’y one woman I’d look twice at her an’ that’s Mary Gray.”

  Receiving no comment, he went on eagerly. “It’d mean a lot for her to be back where she oughta be.”

  “Yeah, but I fancy I heard she didn’t cotton to the idea,” the saloon-keeper suggested.

  “That’s so, but I was oiled an’ overplayed my hand. Anyways, I’m goin’ to put it to her again. I reckon she’ll see which side her bread is buttered.”

  “Yeah, an’ mebbe forget that she eats both sides,” Sudden rejoined.

  Not quite knowing how to take this, Sark decided that it was meant humorously, laughed, and went out. The two men looked at one another, and the saloon-keeper chuckled.

  “He must fancy we ain’t cut our eye-teeth,” he said.

  Before the other could reply, Dave came bursting in. “Sark’s gone into the Widow’s,” he announced. “What’s he want?”

  “It’s a place o’ public entertainment an’ he might want a meal,” the marshal pointed out.

  “If you gotta know, he’sgone to offer her the Dumbbell ranch, includin’ his most unworthy self.”

  The young man promptly loosened his gun in the holster and moved towards the door, but his friend stepped in front of him. “I’m bettin’ the little woman can manage her own affairs. What right yu got to butt in?” he said.

  Dave had no answer to this, and stood moodily watching the street. Fifteen minutes only had elapsed when they saw the rancher come out, fling himself on his mount, and begin to use spurs and quirt immediately. Head down, he passed at a furious pace, still thrashing the beast beneath him.

  “Either he’s hurryin’ to fetch a parson, or …”

  “Did yu see his face?” Dave asked, his own alight. “Shore. I’ll bet she made herself plain.”

  “She couldn’t ever do that,” Dave laughed, and flushed boyishly. “I mean ”

  “Shucks! Yo’re makin’ yoreself mighty plain,” Sudden grinned, and sobering, “She ain’t done with him yet.” The marshal was right; even as he spoke the words, Sark’s frenzied, evil mind was working as he rode recklessly in the direction of his ranch. Mary Gray had listened quietly to what he had to say, and then dismissed him with a finality which would have convinced the most sanguine wooer.

  Directly he arrived at the Dumbbell, he despatched an urgent message to Mullins. When the rustler rode in, some hours later, it was to find him in the same ugly mood.

  “Wantin’ me?” Jake asked.

  “I’ve a job for you—if you want it. If not, I can find someone else.”

  “Suits me,” Jake said, and turned to go.

  Sark had not expected his bluff to be called. “Don’t be a damned fool,” he retorted irritably, and pushed the bottle across the table. “There’s a pretty pickin’ in this for you. Take a chair and a drink.” The visitor did neither; this was an opportunity, and he meant to make the most of it. “How much?” he wanted to know.

  “A thousand bucks.”

  “About a hundred apiece,” Mullins sneered. “Chicken-feed. What have we gotta do for it?” Sark outlined his scheme, and the other listened in silence, considering how it fitted in with his own plans. Having come to the conclusion that it might further them, he sat down and helped himself to whisky.

  “You mean to marry her?”

  “Certainly, fair an’ square, but she needs a little assistance in makin’ up her mind.”

  “Awright for you, mebbe, but me an’ my men’ll have to pull stakes.”

  “Meanin’ the price ain’t high enough?”

  “Jesse, there’s times you show real intelligence,” Mullins grinned. He was enjoying himself.

  Sark considered. “I’ll double it, but that’s the limit.” The rustler nodded; he had his own ideas about that too. “When do we git the dollars?”

  “When I take over the goods. Yo’re holdin’ her to ransom, an’ I come along with the needful. She oughta be grateful, an’ she will if you play yore part right by puttin’ the fear o’ something worse than death into her. Sabe?”

  “Betcha life. Fixed the time yet?”

  “No,” Sark replied. “Make yore preparations an’ be ready for the word.” Jake emptied his glass and stood up. “Make it soon,” he said. “We’re all broke.” The man departed, and the master opened a fresh bottle, and sat, drinking and brooding, until it was time to turn in. He awoke in the morning with a bad head and a worse temper. Two cups of strong black coffee restored him somewhat, but he was still unsteady when he shambled into the living-room to find Lyman awaiting him. The lawyer’s ferrety eyes considered him with very patent disgust.

  “That rot-gut will be your finish,” he said sharply.

  Sark blinked at him owlishly. “Special occasion, ol’ timer,” he replied. “To celebrate my forthcomin’ weddin’.”

  “She’s consented?”

  “Not yet, but she’s goin’ to. I’m fixin’ it. See?”

  “That you’re still drunk, yes,” Lyman said. “Explain.” The cattleman complied, and in his fuddled state, failed to note the growing concern on his listener’s face. When he concluded with a triumphant, “What d’you think of it?” Lyman sprang to his feet and said angrily:

  “Not only drunk but mad. How do you expect to get away with it? Your name will stink.”

  “Yore hearin’ ain’t too good this mornin’,” Sark retorted. “Jake is the villain o’ the piece; I’m on’y the good fairy who comes to the rescue o’ the damsel in distress by payin’ her ransom.”

  From outside came the drum of hurrying feet and a moment later the door was flung back and one of Sark’s men strode in.

  “S’cuse me, boss, but I figured you’d like to know quick that the marshal is startin’ for Bentley this mornin’.” The rancher’s face registered both amazement and dismay. `Bentley?

  What’s his errand there?” The messenger spread his hands wide. “He didn’t tell

  me —musta forgot to,” he replied drily.

  Sark checked the angry reproof on his lips—he could not afford to quarrel with any of his outfit just now—and having ascertained that the marshal was travelling alone, dismissed the bringer of the news. Then he said hopefully:

  “It may not mean anythin’—just a chance visit.”

  “I doubt it,” Lyman said. “Did you ever know a fellow called `Lumpy’?”

  “N-no,” was the reply.

  “You don’t have to lie to me,” was the stern answer. “Was it in Bentley that you knew this Lumpy?” and when the other hesitated, “You don’t seem to realize that you’re in a very tight place.”

  “We are,” Sark corrected meaningly.

  Lyman’s thin shoulders lifted. “I’ve a complete answer,” he said. “But you, if the marshal unearth anything …”

  “Lumpy ain’t seen me since—them days, or he’d ‘a’ made hisself known,” Jesse argued. “I guess we’re bogglin’ at shadows.”

  “A man like that doesn’t ride two hundred miles to admire the scenery,” the lawyer observed. “There’s just one way out, now—the plan you spoke of.”

  “Changed yore mind ‘bout that, huh?”

  “A person who isn’t prepared to do so, in altered circumstances, will get nowhere,” was the quiet reply. “I don’t like it any the more, but put it across and you may keep the Dumbbell; fail, and your best move will be to saddle your fastest horse and get as far from here as it will carry you.” The cattleman glowered at the hunched-up, shrunken figure of the man who was telling him that all he possessed, perhaps even life and liberty, depended upon one desperate throw of the dice. But, with his next remark, the lawyer identified himself with the enterprise.

  “We’ll have to move fast, before that damned gunman gets back. It must be tonight.”

  “I’ll send word to Jake right now,” Sark said, and went at once to give the order. He returned wearing a satisfied smirk. “That’s fixed then. Tomorrow me an’ her’ll ride into Drywash an’ git hitched. Tha
t’ll.. ”

  “Tell everyone you had her abducted and land you neck-high in the mire,” Lyman harshly interjected. “Listen: you’ll get the news when it is brought, and don’t forget to be properly amazed. Some days must pass before—as her only relative—a demand for the ransom reaches you.”

  “S’pose they search for an’ find her?”

  “There mustn’t be any mistakes. Rescuing the girl should square you with Welcome, which—with your customary stupidity—you have rubbed the wrong way.”

  “Hell, Seth, you got no call to bawl me out like that,” Sark protested. “My nerves is all shot up—been hittin’ thebottle too much, I guess. I ain’t forgettin’ all you’ve done for me.”

  “You’d best not,” was the ominous retort. “I’m the boss; bear that in mind and we’ll get along. Keep me posted.” With this autocratic farewell lie departed. Sark gazed after the huddled, black-coated form seated clumsily in the saddle as it moved slowly across the plain; the fear that makes men murder was in his eyes.

  He splashed some liquor into a glass and raised it in mock salutation. “Here’s to yore everlastin’ damnation, my—friend.”

  Chapter XV

  IT was past midnight and Welcome lay shrouded in unbroken darkness when a band of five masked riders, with a led animal, pulled up on the outskirts of the town and dismounted.

  Leaving two of their number to take charge of the horses, the other three stepped cautiously forward until they reached the rear of the restaurant. Despite the gloom they could see that the door was strongly built.

  “Forcin’ that will make a noise,” one of them whispered to the tall man who appeared to be the leader.

  “I ain’t a fool, Javert,” was the reply. “There was two keys to this lock an’ I still got one of ‘em.” He stooped, fumbled for a moment, there was a slight grating noise, and the door swung back. With a cat-like tread, the marauders filed in, and made their way to the bedroom. One of them stumbled as he entered, and a female voice asked: