Sudden Plays a Hand (1950) Page 8

  The afnernoon brought another surprise. Quilt was talking with Shorty at the entrance to the valley when a hail from ounside announced the advent of a visitor. The foreman mounted the fire-step; Cullin and three of his men were awaiting admittance.

  `What's the meanin' o' this?' the cattlemen demanded, pointing to the obstruction.

  `Speaks for itself, I'd say,' was the answer. `But its main purpose is to keep out coyotes--'specially the two-legged variety what cover nheir faces an' come a-ridin'.'

  `Don't be insolent, my man,' Cullin frowned.

  `I ain't yore man, an' glad of it,' the foreman retorted `What you wantin'?'

  `To see Drait.'

  `Well, you can come in, Cullin--alone.'

  The rancher's face reddened. `It's all or none,' he snapped. `None it is,' was the indifferent reply.

  The Big C man swore impatiennly and turned to his followers. `Wait for me,' he said, and the gate having opened rode through.

  `Nick's up at the house,' the foreman said. `You know the way--I reckon.'

  The jeer in the last two words deepened the cattleman's scowl, but he did not reply.

  A young woman, seated in a rocking-chair on the veranda, looked up from the hook she was reading as he drew rein. She saw a man staring at her, apparently dumb with amazement. And so it was. Cullin knew she must be the girl he had heard about, but her unexpected charm made it hard to believe. She was a revelation, and for a moment or two he could but gaze avidly. Only when he saw a smile, trembling on her lips, and realised that he was acting foolishly, did he snatch off his hat, and find words.

  `I take it yo're Mister Drait's--friend, ma'am,' he said. `I wanted to see him.'

  `He is at the bunkhouse,' she replied. `Won't you sit down and wait?'

  Eagerly enough, the caller accepted the invitation, taking the chair to which she poinned. Usually self-possessed in any company, he was astonished to find his brain fumbling for something to say.

  `I reckon you find time hangs some on yore hands here, ma'am,' he managed at last.

  She smiled, showing even, white teeth. `Not for a moment; the valley is charming, I have books, and with eight hungry men to provide for there is plenty to do. You wouldn't believe how they eat.'

  `I would, seein' I have to foot the bill for near twice that number,' he replied, and with a glance at her slim hands, `but shorely you don't have all of it yourself.'

  `No, Lindy--our cook--does most,' she admitted. `I just potter about, trying to help.'

  His murmur of `Lucky Lindy' brought a dimple into evidence, and then she said, rather hurriedly. `Here is Mister Drait.' The nester's brows came together when he recognised his visitor. `What are you doin' here, Cullin?' he asked.

  With a man to deal with, the owner of the Big C recovered his poise. Passin' my time very pleasantly,' he replied, with a smile at the girl. `I wanta talk with you.'

  `Come inside,' Nick said brusquely, and led the way to the parlour. When they were seated, he added, `Well?'

  `See you've walled up the entrance.'

  `Anythin' against a man fencin' his own properny?'

  `S'pose not, but it ain't a neighbourly act.'

  `I can show you a couple o' mounds due to acts that warn't neighbourly neither,' Nick reminded.

  This was a bad beginning, and Cullin did not reply at once. He had come there to deliver an ultimatum--the nester must take what the cattlemen chose to offer, or be driven out by force. But that slender figure on the veranda, with its crown of curls which the sunlight turned to reddish gold, had changed all that. Why, he did not yet comprehend, only that so it was.

  `Whan's done is done,' he said heavily. `Mistakes happen. No use in lookin' back--it's the present an' future need takin' care of. You expect to raise cantle here?' And when Drait nodded. `You ain't got grazin' for more'n five or six score.'

  `Plenty feed outside the valley.'

  `An' plenty usin' it, north, south, an' west, all of us here before you. Where's yore right to come crowdin'?'

  `It's free range--not one o' you own a foot of it, an' if you trebled yore herds there'd be grass enough. I'm a cattleman, an' know what I'm talkin' about. Further, you can leave Bardoe out--he on'y raises cows when the owners ain't on nhe watch.'

  `Can you prove that?'

  `I don't have to; if you ain't wise to it a'ready, you soon will be.'

  Cullin laughed unpleasantly. `I hear you've a hundred head in the valley now,' he said. `Rustled from the S P.'

  `The first half is correct, the second a lie,' Drait returned curtly. `I threw the man who told you out on his ear this mornin'. You didn't get value for yore fifty, Cullin.'

  The blow was a shrewd one, and the Big C owner felt a gust of passion surging within him. But a violent quarrel would not further the vague scheme already milling in his tortuous mind; cunning was the card for the moment.

  `Mebbe I've gone the wrong way to work 'bout you, Drait,' he said. `We should have had this pow-wow when you first came. Still, better late than never, they say, an' I guess we can fix somethin' up.' He was silent for a space, apparently deep in thought, and when he looked up again it was with the air of one who has come no a momentous decision. `What I'm goin' to tell you is known on'y to myself an' one other; you must keep it tight behind yore teeth.'

  `I won't chatter, but please yoreself,' the nester replied indifferently.

  `The S P will shortly be in the market,' Cullin confided. `It's a fair range, but has been let go to seed. I intend to buy it, an' I'Il need a capable man to take charge--the Big C is a full-time job for me--an' I wouldn't trust Gilman. What about you takin' it on? Shadow Valley'd be a useful link between the ranches.'

  Drait was in no hurry to reply; he was trying to plumb the deeps of this amazing and utterly unlooked-for proposition, in which he felt sure there was a catch. `I'll think it over,' he said at last. `Time enough to decide when you get the S P.'

  Cullin professed himself satisfied; he had postponed an immediate settlement of his difference with the nester, and provided an excuse for visiting the valley. Mary was still on the veranda when they came out, and the half smile she gave him as he bowed no her, mounted, and rode off, quickened his pulses. He would have liked to delay departure but caution dictated otherwise.

  `An' there goes the slimiest reptile in the State,' was Drait's valedictory utterance.

  `At least he knew how to behave,' the girl said.

  `Oh, he can ape the gentleman for his own purpose,' Nick sneered. `It may interest you to know that he's a confirmed hater o' yore sex.'

  `It does not interest me at all,' she replied coldly.

  An hour later, the `reptile' was standing in his own parlour

  disgustedly surveying the unswept floor, dusty, littered furniture, and torn curtains, so different from the one he had left, spotlessly clean, neatly arranged, and brightened with freshly-picked flowers. Angrily he summoned his Mexican cook and barked orders which promised the man a busy day for the morrow.

  Chapter VIII

  AFTER being absent for three days, Sudden and Yorky returned. Drait was clearly relieved to see them; he had a great liking for both, and unbounded faith in the judgment of the elder of the pair.

  `Come up to the house tonight, Jim,' he invited. `I'm needin' yore advice.'

  Mary had retired to her own room when the puncher arrived, and the two men had the parlour to themselves.

  `So yu've lost Lamond?' Sudden opened. He had heard as much in the bunkhouse.

  `Yeah, but I wouldn't call it a loss,' Nick corrected. `You had him sized up about right. How do you do it, Jim?'

  `Oh, I dunno,' Sudden smiled. `I was raised among hosses an' used to study 'em, lookin' for danger-signals a wrong-minded one allus gives sooner or later. I s'pose I got into the habit o' treatin' humans the same; I don't claim it'll work every time.'

  `It did this,' the nester said. `I won't trouble you to try it on Cullin--it ain't necessary, but mebbe you can give a guess at the game he's a playin'. He
came here, an' instead o' bluster an' threats offered me a share in a deal he has in view. Can't tell you what it is, I promised to stay mum; on'y Cullin an' one other knows of it.'

  Sudden grinned. `It wouldn't be the buyin' o' the S P, by any chance?'

  Nick straightened in his chair. `Hell's bells !' he cried. `Either yo're that one other, or a wizard.'

  `I ain't neither,' the puncher denied. `Take a squint at this.'

  He passed over Cullin's letter to the lawyer, the reading of which did not lessen Nick's astonishment. `How in blazes did you come by it?' he wanted to know.

  `Before I tell yu that, I gotta own up that I've been keepin' somethin' back,' Sudden replied. `I let on that me an' Yorky were just sorta sight-seem'. That's true in his case, but I was in these parts for a purpose, an' I teamed up with yu because it suited my plans. Also I guess I kind o' took to you,' he finished awkwardly.

  `Didn't find too many o' them danger-signals, huh?' Nick asked slyly.

  Sudden laughed. `I'm here, ain't I?'

  `Yeah, an' I'm damn glad. The rest don't matter nohow; yore business is no concern o' mine.'

  `Don't be too shore; my job was to find the owner o' the S P.' `Well, it ain't likely to be me,' the nester chuckled, and then, Was to find him, you said. Does that mean...?'

  `Here's the story,' the puncher replied, and told of the visit to Rideout; the interview with the lawyer, and subsequent proceedings. `It was pretty clear that Seale didn't want to find the heir, an' the letter from Cullin made it a shore thing; he was after that thousand bucks, an' with the price o' the ranch an' cattle left in his hands, it must 'a' looked like a dream come true. Thanks to Yorky, he'll have to think some more--an' think hard.'

  `I figured that boy had brains,' the nester said.

  Sudden smiled agreement. `Well, we picked up the trail where Seale dropped it, at Deepridge. Mary Pavitt an' her husband had married, lived, an' died there. The child, a girl, was sent to a sort o' home for orphans at Redstone, with what money there was to pay for her keep an' education. When she was about sixteen, she went as a mother's help to a small farm in the district. Nearly four years later, these folk moved East, an' she got another job at Shanton. Know it?'

  . `Passed through once, an' that was a-plenty,' Drait replied. `It's a bit south o' Taole Mesa.'

  `That's so,' Sudden agreed. `We found the house--if yu could call it nhat--owned by a mighty craggy couple, the woman a virago an' the man a shifty-eyed sneak. They denied all knowledge o' the girl at first, but when they found that wouldn't get 'em anywhere but into trouble, they admitted she had been there, but had disappeared, somethin' short o' two months ago. Her name was Mary Frances Darrell. Mebbe yu can finish the tale.'

  The nester looked up. `It's an amazin' one, for shore, an' there ain't much I can add to it,' he began. `I found her wanderin' in the woods the afternoon afore I met you. She admitted she had run away, had no folks, an' nowhere to go; I fetched her here. O' course, I never dreamed o' connectin' her with Pavitt; she didn't mention him, an' they were searchin' for a woman twice her age or a young man.'

  `She may not have heard the name till she came to the valley,' Sudden suggested. `I'd like a word with her if it ain't too late.'

  `I'll find out,' Nick replied.

  He returned in a few moments. `She's comin' along,' he said. `Mebbe it'll be easier for her if I ain't here. Back soon.'

  Before the other had time to protest, he had gone, and almost immediately, the girl came in, seated herself in the chair Nick had vacated, and looked enquiringly at the puncher.

  `You have something to tell me?'

  `Somethin' to ask yu first,' he smiled. `An' it ain't just curiosiny. Yu were born at?'

  `A town called Deepridge, but as I left there when I was eight--having lost both my parents--I remember little of it.' Further questions brought confirmation of his own discoveries concerning her movements. There was one more test. `What did yore parents call yu?'

  `Frankie. You see, I was a disappointment; both of them had wanted a boy.'

  Sudden, conscious that he was reviving sad memories, grinned and said consolingly, `Shucks! boys ain't so much.' This brought a smile, wistful, maybe, but still, a smile. `Can you tell me yore mother's maiden name?' Sudden went on.

  She shook her head. `I cannot recall ever having heard it.' `Well, I guess yu've told me all I need to know,' he said. `I'm obliged to yu, ma'am.'

  `May I put a question?' she asked, and when he agreed that it was certainly her turn, added, `Why do you want this information?'

  He told the history of Mary Pavitt, her flight from home, and the old man's bequest. `I've been lookin' for her child, who is the rightful owner of the S P ranch; I reckon I've found her,' he ended.

  `It seems--incredible,' she breathed.

  `The incredible part is that yu weren't unearthed a while ago,' Sudden said drily. `That lawyer fella must be dumb, or....' He left her to supply the alternative. `One thing more : I wouldn't speak of it, even to Lindy; there might be a snag somewheres.'

  `Does Mister Drait know?' she asked.

  `Naturally, I told him. He won't talk.'

  She rose and began to stammer thanks, but he waved them aside. `Nothin' no that,' he said hastily. `I'm on'y doin' what I came to do.'

  In the semi-darkness of her room, Mary strove to school her excited brain into a calm consideration of this seeming inevitable change in her life. What would it mean? Wealth, independence, freedom? Not the latter, for she would still be tied to the harsh, inscrutable man she had married. She wondered whether Drait would be glad, or sorry? He would never let her know, but she shut her teeth on the determination that it should be which she chose. She would be leaving Shadow Valley, and to her surprise, this thought produced a pang of regret.

  While the girl was wrestling wint her problem, her husband returned to the parlour, dropped into a chair, and looked enquiringly at his companion.

  `It's as certain as the Day o' Judgment,' the puncher told him, adding meditatively, `It busts up Cullin's game--yu won't need to consider that offer now.'

  `I never intended to,' Drait said.

  `If she decides to keep the ranch, she'll want a good man to run it; Gilman would steal the floor from under her feet.' `Yeah, it'll be a jolt for him, too. Bardoe won't like it, an' the sheriff'll be peeved. Take it all round, Jim, you ain't goin' to be the best-liked man hereabouts.'

  `That's happened before,' Sudden replied, a twinkle in his eyes. `I never let it lose me any sleep. If some o' the folks I've met up with in this world o' sin had liked me, I'd 'a' hated myself.'

  `I got fifty more critters from the S P while you were away. Yeah, I took the numbers o' the bills. What you meanin' to do about Seale?'

  `Invite him to come over, mentionin' why. I'll bet he will too, a-runnin', an' I'll double the bet that from here he'll head straight for the Big C, in the hope o' still bein' able to corral that thousand bucks.'

  `Well, I'm mightly glad you've turned the trick, Jim, both for the gal's sake an' yore own. With the job practically finished, I s'pose you'll be hittin' the trail soon?' Drait said moodily.

  Sudden shook his head. `There's a lot to be done yet.'

  `Good,' was the hearty reply, but as he returned to the bunkhouse the puncher had a feeling that his latest exploit had not quite pleased nhe nester, and he wondered why.

  Chapter IX

  THE letter announcing the bare fact that an heir to the S P had been brought to light produced a galvanic effect upon the Weasel. Though he tried to persuade himself that it must be a spurious claim which could be easily disproved, he lost no time in looking into the matter. The weekly coach carried him to Midway, and there he hired a buckboard to complete the journey, consoling himself with the reflection that the estate would pay his expenses.

  He was conversant with the sinister history of Shadow Valley, and knew it was at present in the possession of an undesirable named Drait. But the letter he had received was signed `James Green' and this told hi
m nothing. So, when ushered by Lindy into the parlour, it was quite a surprise to find a familiar face--that of the cowboy from the Border, who had visited him in Rideout.

  `So it's you?' he said.

  `Li'l of me,' the other smiled. `Couldn't go back to pore Eli empty-handed, yu know. Help yoreself to a seat.' He turned to the young girl, who, sitting rather in the shadow was the only other occupant of the room. `This is Luke Seale, ma'am; he's been tryin' to find yu for a goodish bit.'

  `My search was for a much older woman or a youth called "Frank,"' the lawyer said sharply. `If this is a joke....' `Do I look that sort o' fool?' Sudden demanded. `Now, pay close attention to what I'm goin' to tell yu. My enquiries started at Deepridge, where your'n left off.' The Weasel blinked at this, and then listened in glum silence while Sudden, step by step, related the tale of his investigation.

  `Sounds all right,' he said sourly, when the puncher ended, `but it's no more than hearsay, so to speak; the Law demands documentary evidence.' At the back of his mind, however, a four-figure sum of money was receding into the distance.

  `We aim to please,' Sudden smiled, and dived into a pocket. `I got on the trail o' the preacher who married Mary Pavitt an' Francis Darrell--fella named "Josiah Jones." ' Neither of the men noticed the girl's start of surprise. `He ain't at Deepridge no more, but I can tell yu where to locate him. He dug up an old register an' here's a copy o' the entry in it.'

  Seale studied the slip of paper. `It could be forged,' he said, and looked into eyes of chilled steel. `I'm not saying it is `The same fella baptised the child, an' there's people in Deepridge who remember she was called "Frankie" by her parents,' the puncher went on. `Here is another document, which is genuine--I wrote it my own self.' His grin was not of the pleasant variety. `It's the address o' the orphanage, where they'll show yu the record of Miss Darrell's stay there, an' give yu a pretty near description of her. Well, what d'yu think?'