Sudden Plays a Hand (1950) Read online

  Yorky did not approve of this--he wanted to hand the fellow over to Quilt--but the girl was obdurate, and he gave in. 'Yo're playin' in luck, hombre, but don't figure on it,' he said. `Next time you'll be shot on sight. Now fade.'

  `Yore turn today, mebbe mine tomorrow,' Bardoe retorted, with a black scowl.

  The boy waited until he disappeared, and then, having fetched his horse and collected the forfeited arms, they set out for the house. After she had thanked him warmly--to his great discomfort--she wanted to know how he happened to be at that end of the valley.

  `I was lookin' for another way out, an' stickin' close to the cliff,' he explained.

  `Did you find one?'

  He shook his head. `Ain't finished searchin'.'

  She suspected this to be a mere excuse but did not pursue the subject. Yorky, she learned, had come upon the scene only a moment before he intervened and did not know the intruder's identity.

  `That was Bardoe,' she told him.

  `Hell's gates!' Yorky swore, apologised, and added bitterly. `I savvied we was wrong to turn him loose.'

  `That was my doing,' she said.

  The reappearance of the man was a shock, and his parting threat told her that she had not seen the last of him. The remembrance of the unconcealed lust in his gaze made her shiver. Odd that she might yet come to regard Drait as ... She drove away the thought impatiently; at the best, he could be no more than the lesser of two evils.

  *

  The foreman of the S P watched the approaching horseman and grinned crookedly when he recognised him. `Boy, you got a nibble, but you need to play him afore you strike,' he told himself. `He ain't no sucker.' And when the visitor reached the ranch-house, "Lo, Drait, take the weight off'n yore saddle.'

  The nester complied, and sat rolling a cigarette, waiting for the other to open the ball.

  `How's thing's at Shadow Valley?' Gilman began.

  `Fine as silk,' Nick replied easily.

  `Been to town lately?'

  `Any good reason why I should?'

  `No, but there may be one for keepin' away.'

  `You ain't referrin' to that bum sheriff, are you?' Drait asked scornfully.

  `Not as a good reason,' Gilman laughed. `Allasame, if you do have to go, take yore friend along, an' tell him to be more careful where he plants the pills; shootin' the buttons off'n a rattler may be fine marksmanship but it's pore judgment. Still figure on stayin' in our midst?'

  `Shore do--there's plenty room for another range without crowdin' anybody,' Drait replied.

  `Well, it ain't worryin' me none,' the foreman said carelessly.

  `Mebbe if I owned the S P I'd talk different, but ...' He finished with a shrug.

  `You should have a good job here.'

  `Don't think it; that law-sharp at Rideout keeps me mighty close-hauled--you'd fancy the damn place belonged to him. I'm runnin' the whole shootin' match an' drawin' a foreman's pay. Is that fair?'

  `I'll say it ain't,' the other agreed. `Mebbe the new owner'll make it up to you, when they find him.'

  `More likely to turf me out, figurin' to do it better hisself,' Gilman said gloomily. `Started yore herd yet?'

  `You said you might do somethin' about that.'

  `How about sixty yearlin's an' forty calves at eight bucks per head all round?'

  `Sounds cheap.'

  `It is, but the ranch is short o' ready coin. It'll be unbranded stock, mostly our'n--my fellas ain't too careful--with mebbe a sprinklin' o' strays, but when yore iron's on 'em it'll be nobody's business.'

  His slitted eyes watched the nester closely as he made this proposition, but he saw only what seemed to be appreciation of a real bargain.

  `I'm obliged,' Draft said. 'I'll certainly chew on that.'

  `Let me know, an' the beasts'll be ready. You can collect at daylight--I don't want it knowed that the S P is pushed for money.'

  Drait came away in a thoughtful frame of mind. Either Gilman was deliberately robbing his employers, or he was setting a trap, and it was more than possible he was doing both. Dealing with a lawyer who knew nothing of the cattle business the former would be easy, but the alternative required serious consideration. Probably the foreman was working with the other ranchers, and Drait had no desire to hand them a weapon against himself.

  When he arrived at Shadow Valley he found the wall completed, and he had to wait while a grinning Smoky unfastened and flung open a half of the massive gates.

  `Well, Boss, here she is,' he said. `Strong enough to stop a stampede, an' six fellas what can shoot'll hold her agin a regiment.'

  Drait nodded. `Shouldn't have no more surprises.'

  But there was one waiting for him at the house. Mary was at the door, and he almost fancied she was relieved to see him. `There is something you have to know,' she began. `Bardoe is alive.'

  With a frown which grew heavier he Iistened to her story.

  Only when she had finished did he make the comment. `You let him go?'

  `I was to blame,' she replied. `Yorky wanted to hold him.' `Yorky was right.' He looked at her ironically. `You tried to shoot the man, an' then .. .

  `I can't explain,' she interrupted passionately.

  `I s'pose you thought I'd finish what I'd bungled,' he said, and when she did not deny, `I don't shoot unarmed men--he'd have had an even break, which is more than he gave me. Well, that job's still to do, but there's another I must be seem' to.'

  He strode to the bunkhouse, where he found the outfit, all save Smoky. The foreman asked a question.

  `Good work,' Drait replied. `But there's a rat-hole at the other end that's gotta be stopped complete an' pronto. Yorky, I'm right obliged to you.'

  The boy squirmed uneasily. `Ain't worth mentionin',' he said. `If I'd knowed who he was ...'

  `Shore, I understand,' the nester smiled. `Jim, there's somethin' I wanna ask you.'

  When they were outside the bunkhouse, Drait told of the offer he had received. `O' course, he'll put the dollars in his own pocket--after squarin' his men,' he concluded. `I don't care none about that; what I'm wonderin', is he diggin' a hole for me?'

  `If the critters ain't marked, I don't see how he could do anythin',' Sudden said. `There's one precaution yu might take; where does he bank?'

  `With the Western Union; it's the on'y one in Midway; we all use it.'

  `Good. Draw the money out in big bills, have the manager make a note o' the date an' numbers, an' tell him you might need to know who pays 'em in again. If Gilman tries any tricks, he may get tangled in his own rope.'

  `I want those beasts, an' I figure he'll play straight, anyway till he's got some more o' my dollars. But I'll do as you say--fix it in town tomorrow. Oh, there won't be no trouble, but come if you like an' fench Yorky along; I owe him a break.'

  So the morning found the three of them outside the bank premises in Midway. The nester went in to transact his business, and his companions waited, looking at an all too familiar scene. Heavy freight wagons, drawn by plodding mules, churned up the dust, distributing it impartially on passing pedestrians. In front of the saloons stood lines of patient ponies, their flicking tails waging the unending war against the flies. The passers-by afforded a wide choice in race and colour; roughly-dressed, craggy-faced whites, yellow-skinned Mexicans,slit-eyed, smiling Chinamen, and Negroes. Sudden, sitting carelessly in his saddle, appeared indifferent, but his keen eyes missed nothing, and he at once noticed that the nester's arrival had aroused interest.

  `Somethin' in the wind,' he said to Yorky. `Where's that lousy sheriff off to, an' what's he so pleased about?'

  Camort had passed on the other side of the street, his arm still in a sling, and his face alive with malignant satisfaction. Yorky studied the stumpy figure.

  `If he smells as bad as he looks they've christened him correct,' he decided. `How do things like that git their jobs?'

  `Just because they are things like that,' Sudden said caustically. 'Comin' from where yu do, yu oughta know. The big men have
the whip-hand. The election is a farce; the outfits have to vote as they're told, an' the tradesmen daren't offend large customers. The ballot ain't secret, an' Heaven help the fella who supports the wrong side.'

  Drait rejoined them. `All fixed,' he said. `Williams, the manager, is a good chap; he don't admire the way the town is run, but like plenty others, he has no play his cards close. I hear the sheriff is on the warpath again; seen anythin' of him?'

  `He watched yu go inno the bank, an' it shore looked like the answer to a prayer. Then he seemed to remember somethin' important.'

  `You don't say,' Nick grinned. `What we goin' to do?'

  A man slouching slowly by answered the question: `Scatter dust if yo're wise. Camort reckons he's got you cinched.' `Thanks, friend, but he's a pore reckoner--lack of schoolin' I expect. We'll go find him.'

  The unknown shrugged. `It's yore funeral,' he said.

  `Oh, I guess not,' Nick replied. 'On'y the good die young an' I'm bad--terrible bad.'

  They proceeded to Merker's, the owner of which greeted them with, `Nick, you can crowd yore luck too close.' The warning of a well-wisher, an explanation was due. `I came into town on my own affairs,' the nester replied quietly. `Then I hear a man is anxious to see me. I don't like disappointin' folks.'

  `He thinks he has you,' Merker said.

  `He's thought that before,' Nick smiled, and glanced about him. `Midway 'pears to be thirsty.'

  `No--curious,' was the meaning answer.

  So that was it; those present knew what was afoot, and had gathered to see the fun--if any. A stirring apprised him that something was happening. He turned his head. The sheriff marched in, followed by a lanky, hawk-faced fellow carrying a sawed-off shot-gun, which, spraying its load of buckshot, made missing, at short range, well-nigh impossible. This individual, whose eyes seemed to have a permanent difference of opinion, and in consequence, was generally known as Wall-eye,' was the newly-appointed deputy to the peace-officer. The pair halted in front of the nester and his companions.

  Drait broke the silence: `Hired yoreself a bodyguard, Stinker?'

  The sheriff's reply was addressed to his assistant. `If any o' them guys makes a move, let fly.'

  `If he does, you'll wake in the next world, Camort.' This from the saloon-keeper, who leaning forward on the bar, had a forty-five in his fist, trained directly on the man he warned. `An' I don't mean--mebbe,' he added.

  The sheriff glared. Merker was a quiet man who minded his business, but was known to be impatient of interference, as more than one obstreperous customer had discovered; he did not waste breath on empty threats.

  'Yo're obstructin' me in the execution o' my dooty,' Camort blustered. `I represent the Law.'

  `Mebbe--it's usually described as an ass,' Merker replied coolly. `Anyway, you don't turn a riot-gun loose on my premises. I'm rememberin' that time when you blinded a man, an' then tried to down him.'

  The other's face was venomous. `I ain't forgettin' this, Merker.'

  `Which you'd better not. Now, spit yore poison, an' fade.' `Suits me. I got a warrant, signed by the Judge, for the arrest o' this jasper, Drait.'

  The jasper in question received the news with a sober nod. `On what charge?' he asked.

  Waylayin' an' murderin' Bull Bardoe,' Camort exulted. `Is that all?'

  `You'll find it a-plenty.' He addressed the audience. `Bull was found over a week back by some of his own men up on the Table Mesa trail, shot through the head.'

  `Very sad,' Nick murmured. `Did he say I killed him?' `How?' the sheriff began, and then saw the twinkle in the nester's eyes. `Funny man, huh? Well, have yore laugh while you can. The Judge will hold the trial this afternoon, an' by sunset you'll be swingin' high an' dry.'

  `Fast work, Stinker,' the accused retorted. `What are you afraid of?' Getting no answer, he went on, `You gotna give me time to prepare my defence an' call a witness.'

  `On'y one?' Camort sneered. `Twenty won't help you.'

  `Got it all planned out, huh?' Drait smiled. `Yeah, just one--Bull Bardoe hisself.'

  He saw the flicker of fear in the man's eyes, and then came a guffaw, too forced to be natural. `I doubt if you'll have time to dig him up.'

  Someone thrust aside the door of the saloon, and stood there. `Hi, Stinker, look what's blown into town,' he cried.

  Every eye was turned to door or window, to see the familiar figure of Bull Bardoe pace slowly along the street, quite unconscious of the sensation he was causing. The occupants of the saloon gazed in bewilderment, the sheriff's expression was one of rage, and his utterance anything but pious, and Nick Drait grinned. Merker spoke:

  `Bull certainly is the most active corpse I ever saw; it don't seem proper for a murdered man to go cavortin' about like that.'

  The laughter which followed the irony had little of amusement in it, and Camort realised that he was the recipient of sinister looks; he must do something.

  `I've bin misinformed--made a fool of,' he said indignantly.

  `Then somebody's wastin' time,' Drait said caustically. `It's a plain enough frame-up, an' that's why you were rushin' things. Bull was to keep under cover until you'd jerked me into the next world. One o' you seems to have slipped up.' He turned to the spectators. `I hope yo're proud o' this dawg you made a sheriff.'

  `We ain't, not none,' Pilch growled. `We'd like to hang him a whole lot.'

  `It's all a lie,' Camort asserted. `I was told he was dead, an' that the hoss he allus rode was in Drait's corral.'

  `Bull's forkin' that same boss right now,' someone pointed out. `I ain't shore we didn't oughta do what Pilch sez.' The ring of threatening faces made the sheriff's heart skip a beat; Western mobs were easily inflamed, and his friends the cattlemen and their outfits were far away.

  `I was on'y tryin' to do my dooty,' he protested lamely.

  Jeers greeted the statement. The nester stepped forward and took the warrant from the officer's nerveless fingers.

  `I'll see Towler myself about this,' he said. `Twice you've planned to put somethin' over on me; the third time won't be lucky--for you. Now, get out.'

  `An' stay out,' the saloon-keeper added.

  The sheriff and his deputy slouched through the door, and the latter made no secret of his feelings. `It ain't offen I'm glad to leave a saloon, but I'm admittin' this is one o' the times,' he said. `We wasn't a bit pop'lar in there.'

  `If it's popularity yo're after you got the wrong joo,' his boss

  told him. `As for them sots, they jaw plenty but dasn't do any-thin'. I'd like to give Bull my candid opinion.'

  `Shall I find him for you?' Wall-eye offered.

  `I can do that for myself--if I want him,' the sheriff said, knowing perfectly well that he would not. He had courage of a kind, but it was not of the quality necessary to bully Bardoe.

  The nester and his friends followed soon after, making their way to the Judge's office, which adjoined the court-room, and was part of the gaol building. An unceremonious entrance brought the judicial feet from the desk-top to the ground, and a look of astonishment from their owner as he recognised the leading visitor.

  `What are you doing here?' he asked, with as much dignity as a man caught napping might immediately muster.

  `Not expectin' me, Towler, huh?'

  `Hardly--in this part of the premises,' the Judge retorted. Drait threw the warrant on the desk. `Did you sign that?' `Certainly, it is one of my duties.'

  `Do you require proof that the person named may be guilty?' `Evidence is the sheriff's affair; I deal with it when I try the case.'

  `Are you aware that Bardoe--the man that paper accuses me of killin'--rode into town, alive an' well, less'n half an hour ago?'

  The Judge sat up straight. `Are you insinuating--?'

  `No, I'm just tellin' you,' Drait cut in harshly. `In front of twenty others, Camort said I was to be tried an' hanged before sunset--that I hadn't a chance. An' this for a crime which existed on'y in his--an' yore--imagination.'

  `This is an outrage
,' Towler spluttered, but his watery eyes dropped before the fierce gaze of the nester. `Shore is,' the latter agreed drily. `Whan you goin' to do about it?'

  The Judge re-lighted the stub of a cigar, and remembered that he was an important personaget `I was referring to the insult directed against myself,' he replied. `Any difference you have with the sheriff is no concern of mine.' He was rather proud of this effort.

  `An' the recent murder of two men in Shadow Valley is also no concern o' yores?' Drait asked cynically. `I am not here to discover or arrest malefactors,' Towler said disdainfully. `I am answerable only to the Law--'

  `An' the Governor who appointed yu,' Sudden reminded.

  The Judge looked at this hard-featured man whose cold, level voice he heard for the first time. This must be the fellow who had crippled the sheriff. He decided not no reply.`Yo're forgettin' Stinker an' the cattlemen,' Drait said.

  The taunt stung like a whip-lash. Quivering with rage, the badgered jurist cried, `I won't put up with this; I'll have you charged with contempt of court, and...'

  `I'll plead guilty to that,' was the biting reply. `Listen, Towler; I came here to find out whether you were fool or crook. Yo're both, but you haven't the guts to be real bad, or to run winh the rats who are usin' you. Yo're on the wrong trail, an' it'll land you in the pen--if you live. Adios.' With which ironical farewell, the visitors filed out. Towler sat staring at the closed door for some moments, and then opened a drawer, produced a flask, and took a hearty pull at it.

  `Damn Bardoe,' he said fervently.

  Chapter V

  `Where we bound for, Jim?' Yorky wanted to know when they set off on the following morning.

  Payin' a visit to Mister Bardoe,' Sudden said. `But we ain't intendin' to intrude, in fact, we're goin' to be real shy. What's yore opinion o' Nick?'

  The boy thought for a moment. `A mighty good friend and a damn bad enemy,' he replied. `If th' other man fights dirty, he'll do th' same, or wuss.'

  Sudden nodded. `That's how I figure him.' He glanced slyly at his companion. `I dunno how things'll break, but backin' his play won't exactly be a pleasure trip.'

  `If yo're worryin' about me, forget it,' Yorky said. `Think I wanta ride around gazin' at scenery? I like action.'