Sudden (1933) Page 8

  Apparently sure of the result, he got down, trailed his reins, and taking a seat on the verandah, began to roll a cigarette. Nan went in search of her father. When the ranch-owner appeared, alone, he found the unwelcome visitor smoking and surveying the landscape.

  "Mornin', Purdie," he greeted. "Fine view yu got here."

  "Mebbe, but I don't know as yu improve it," came the blunt answer. "What's yore errand?"

  Before Burdette could reply, a thud of hoofs announced another arrival--the marshal. Getting down in front of the verandah, he nodded heavily to the pair.

  "The C P is gettin' precious popular seemin'ly," Purdie said sarcastically. "What might yu be wantin', Slype?"

  "Heard King was headed this way an' thought I'd better come along," the officer replied.

  "Which of us was yu aimin' to protect?" asked the rancher sneeringly.

  "It's my job to prevent trouble," Slype replied.

  "Yu needn't to have bothered, Sam," Burdette said easily. "There won't be none--o' my makin'--but seein' yo're here, yu might as well listen to what I have to say to Purdie."

  "Fly at it," the cattleman said curtly.

  "Well, Purdie, I'm here to propose peace," Burdette began. "We're the two biggest outfits in Windy, an' if we start scrappin', the whole community'll suffer. Where's the sense in it?"

  "My boy lies over there," the old man said grimly, waving a hand towards the valley. "Killed by a cowardly coyote who carries yore name."

  "It ain't been proved, an' anyways, until he clears his-self, he's a stranger to the Burdettes," King pointed out. "I reckon that puts the attitude o' the Circle B pretty plain."

  "Mart did that the other night in `The Lucky Chance' when he said Luce had done a good job," Purdie said incisively.

  "Mart was drunk," King replied, adding meaningly, "An' he thought a lot o' Dad."

  "The C P had nothin' to do with that," Purdie rasped.

  "Yu say so, an' I'm tellin' yu the same about Kit," Burdette retorted. "If Luce bumped off yore boy it was a personal matter. What else yu got against the Circle B?"

  At this moment Sudden stepped from the house on to the verandah and paused when he saw that his employer had visitors. Purdie presented his new foreman as such, and a little frown creased the brow of King Burdette.

  "Yu didn't tell me yu was takin' charge here when I offered yu a job," he said.

  "Did I have to?" the puncher asked coolly.

  "What was yu sayin' this mornin' 'bout some steers yu found, Green?" the rancher cut in.

  The foreman told of the re-branded cattle he had discovered hidden on the range, and the face of the Circle B man flamed as he heard the story.

  "Yu accusin' me o' rustlin' yore cows?" he asked stormily. "What's the great idea?"

  "Well, when the brands are healed the cattle could be sneaked over an' thrown into yore herds, or they could be found where they are, when it would look like we'd been stealin' from yu," Sudden pointed out. "On'y yore outfit would be interested in puttin' yore brand on our beasts."

  "Bah! Chicken-feed," King sneered. He turned to the marshal. "Looks to me like a plain frame-up--tryin' to pin a rustlin' on the Circle B."

  "Shore does," the officer agreed.

  "See here, Purdie," King went on. "It's the first I've heard of this, but I'll look into it, an' if I find any o' my outfit have been usin' a straight iron I'll hand 'em over to yu, even if it's my own brothers. Can't say fairer than that. Now all this chatter ain't gettin' us nowhere. I'm offerin' yu my hand; will yu take it?"

  The rancher's jaw was set, his eyes cold. "I'd sooner shake with a rattlesnake than a Burdette," he said harshly. "Fetch me the murderer o' my son, with a rope round his neck, an' mebbe I'll tell yu different."

  Burdette looked at the marshal, and Sudden could have sworn there was satisfaction in the glance; the man had hoped for such a termination to the interview. He stood up, lifting his shoulders in a gesture of hopelessness.

  "Yu heard that, Sam?" he said, and there was little of disappointment in his tone. "Good thing yu happened along; yu can bear witness that I did my utmost to dodge trouble, but this old fool wants war. Well, by God, he shall have it, an' that goes."

  The exultation in the savage, sneering voice was plain enough now; the man had cast off all pretence.

  Purdie too had risen, his hand not far from his gun. He laughed scornfully. "Yu can't bluff me, Burdette," he said. "Mebbe I'm what yu called me, but I ain't blind. Yu egg yore brother on to kill Kit, an' yu stand aside an' let him bear the blame; yu brand my cattle an' leave 'em where they'll be found so's I'll start somethin'. Then yu come here with lying offers o' peace which yu know damn well I don't listen to o' purpose to put me in wrong with the town."

  "Lookit, Purdie..." the marshal protested.

  "Shut yore trap," the old man told him, and to Burdette, "Get off my land, pronto, an' take yore tame dawg with yu."

  Sudden saw the man's face whiten under the tan, sensed the passion that was urging him to pull his gun and shoot Purdie then and there, and realized that only his own presence prevented it. For a brief moment Burdette fought his fury, and then came an ugly snarl: "Yu take the pot--this time, but I'll get yu, yore ranch, an' yore girl, Purdie, even if yu pack yore place with two-gunmen."

  With a glare at Sudden he swaggered from the verandah, sprang into the saddle, and spurred his horse down the trail. The marshal would have spoken, but a contemptuous gesture from the cattleman stopped him.

  "Get agoin'," Purdie said. "Yore master will be whistlin' for yu."

  When the pair had vanished, the ranch-owner turned and looked at his foreman. "What yu think of it?" he asked.

  "I reckon yu got their measure," was the reply. "Funny 'bout them cattle, though; I don't believe he knowed of 'em."

  Purdie laughed incredulously. "When yu savvy the Burdettes as well as I do, yu'll figure 'em at the back o' most o' the dirty work around here," he said. "Anyways, they know what I think of 'em. King would 'a' drawed on me if yu hadn't been here."

  The puncher's eyes twinkled. "Yeah, but I was, an' not bein' a fool, he didn't forget it," he replied.

  "What d'yu guess'll be their first move?"

  "I expect they'll try to abolish that two-gun hombre King mentioned."

  The rancher's face grew grave. "Jim, I'd no right to rope yu into my trouble--this ain't no ordinary foreman's job," he said. "If yu wanta reconsider..."

  "Forget it, seh," Sudden smiled. "I came here knowin', an' when I start anythin' I aim to finish it."

  Purdie's relief was evident. In declaring war on the Circle B he had relied greatly upon the aid of this lean-jawed, level-eyed stranger, of whom he knew nothing and yet trusted implicitly.

  Chapter IX

  IN the big, littered living-room at the Circle B that same evening four men sat in conference--King Burdette, his brothers Mart and Sim, and one of their outfit. This last had an arresting appearance. Between thirty-five and forty years of age, of slight build, he had one remarkable feature --a skin, which even the fierce sun of the South-west could not colour; his clean-shaven face was white, the unhealthy, sickly white of something grown in darkness, and in this deathly pallor were set blue eyes like polished stones, un-winking, expressionless. "Whitey"--for so the man was known--never smiled, his face might have been a marble mask, but lacked the dignity of the carven stone. He wore two guns, and his long, talon-like fingers were never far from their butts.

  "Well, boys, I saw Purdie this mornin' an'--like I guessed--he's all set for war--wouldn't listen to nothin' else," King began, and grinned. "Slippery was there, by chance, o' course. That puts us right with Windy; Chris won't get no sympathy there. So we can go ahead."

  "An' with Kit outa the way there shouldn't be no difficulty," Mart added.

  "There's on'y one, far's I can see," King rejoined. "Purdie has scooped in that two-gun stranger, Green, an' made him foreman. I'm tellin' yu this; he's got a good one."

  "We oughta've gathered him in ourselves," Si
m stated.

  "I tried to, but Purdie had beat me to it," the elder brother told him. "Mark me, that fella means trouble for us; twice he's got Luce out of a jam--if it hadn't been for him that young fool would 'a' been off our hands for good. There's another thing; he claims to have found a bunch o' cattle with the C P brand changed to Circle B, penned up on Purdie's range. Any o' yu know about it?"

  They all shook their heads. "Odd number that," Mart said. "Our boys wouldn't do it without orders. An' why leave 'em there?"

  "It'll need lookin' into, but can wait." King decided. "The main point is what we goin' to do about Green?"

  "Leave him to me," Whitey said.

  Callous as they were, the cold, passionless voice sent a shiver through the others; they sensed an eagerness to slay for the sake of slaying--for they knew his proposal meant nothing less than death. Whitey was a killer of the worst type--one who sold his dexterity to the highest bidder, and regarded the taking of human life as no more important than twisting the neck of a chicken.

  "He totes a coupla guns an' we don't know how good he is with 'em," King observed.

  "If he can beat me to the draw he'll do what twelve other fellas failed at," the killer replied darkly.

  "Thirteen's an unlucky number, Whitey," Sim commented.

  "Shore will be--for him," came the grim retort. "I'll be in town to-night; mebbe meet up with him."

  King shook his head. "We gotta wait a week at least," he decided. "To do it sooner would be a fair giveaway."

  "Well, what's a week, anyways?" the gunman grimaced. "He'll be a long whiles dead. It'll cost yu boys five hundred."

  The "boys" nodded agreement, regarding him curiously. They had no illusions about the man, being well aware that he would have undertaken to destroy any one of them for a sufficient sum.

  "Yo're a cold-blooded devil, Whitey," Mart said. "One o' these days yu'll tumble up against a fella who's a mite quicker'n yu are, an' then..."

  The killer's thin, pale lips twisted a little, which, in him, signified amusement. "I've met that fella," he said. "Yes, sir, some years ago, way down in Texas. He warn't much more'n a boy, but his draw was a shinin' merricle. I was reckoned fast, but he left me standin' still. Had an odd trick o' speaking his piece, half turnin' away, an' the next yu knowed he had yu covered."

  "He let yu off, Whitey?" King queried, with lifted eyebrows.

  "He let me off, yeah, when he had me set," the gunman said. "I'll never forgive him for that." In his voice was a bitter hate for the man who had allowed him to live. "Said I looked sick, an' I'll bet I did too, an' that a spell o' travel would be good for my health."

  "So yu--travelled?" King said, with almost a jeer.

  The other appeared not to notice it. "I took the trail," he admitted. "I ain't seen him since, an' dunno as I'd reckernize him--a few years make a big difference in a young chap, an' there warn't nothin' special 'bout him --just a ordinary puncher to look at. But I've heard tell of him."

  "What was his name?" Sim asked.

  "Never knowed it, but they was beginnin' to call him `Sudden' down there, an', by God! they got him right," Whitey replied.

  Sudden! Even to this far corner of Arizona the young gunman's reputation for cold courage and marvellous marksmanship had penetrated. The faint satirical smiles which their companion's recital of his discomfiture had produced faded from the faces of his hearers. Mart expressed the feelings of all when, with a low whistle, he said :

  "Sudden. Huh? Whitey, I reckon yu did right to--travel."

  Despite the fact that matters between the two ranches had apparently reached a crisis, a week passed without anything happening, and Windy wondered. Old-timers wagged their heads significantly and spoke of the proverbial calm before the storm. For Luce Burdette the period was one of growing discomfort. The attitude of his family, supported by the known facts, caused many to believe he had slain Kit Purdie, and though Sudden's quick-wittedness should have cleared him, in the minds of reasonable men, of robbing Evans, there were some who still doubted. Also, King Burdette had made it plain that friendship with his discarded brother would mean enmity with him, and the displeasure of the Circle B, with its band of hard, unscrupulous riders, was not to be incurred lightly.

  Entirely ignored by most of the citizens, and avoided as much as possible by others he had deemed his friends, the young man grew daily more despondent. Several times he had ridden to the little glade in the hope of seeing Nan Purdie, only to be disappointed. Bitterly he concluded that, like the rest, she had come to believe in his guilt. In this he wronged her. More than once Nan had found herself heading for the meeting-place, and had spurred her pony in another direction. There came a morning, however, when, obeying an impulse which brought the blood to her cheeks, she rode resolutely along the old trail and through the opening into the glade. Her heart leapt when she saw someone sitting on the fallen trunk, head bent, elbows on knees, apparently deep in thought. Lest he should deem her there on purpose, she rode with face averted, pretending not to have seen him. Then came a voice which shocked the gladness out of her.

  "Shorely the gods are good to me since they send the very person my mind was full of," King Burdette said, swinging his hat in a wide sweep. "The spot was pretty before; now, it is beautiful."

  The girl's proud little head came up, the blue eyes regarded him coldly, and she rode on. King Burdette stepped towards her.

  "Come now, Nan, you gotta talk with me," he urged. "I've somethin' important to say 'bout somebody yo're interested in; it'll go hard with him if yu don't listen."

  "If you're threatening my father" she began stormily.

  "Yu got me wrong," he replied. "It ain't him--it's Luce."

  He saw her flush, and smothered a curse. "I am not interested in any of your family, Mister Burdette," she said, and shook her reins.

  The man laughed. "No use runnin' away, girl," he pointed out. "I can catch yu in two-three minutes."

  She looked at the big, rangy roan standing with drooping head but a few yards distant and knew it was no vain boast; her mount--game as it was--could not keep ahead of that powerful, long-striding animal. What a fool she had been not to notice the horse! Luce always rode Silver, his grey. She pulled in her pony.

  "What have you to say?" she asked.

  "Aw, Nan, get down an' be sociable," King smiled.

  "I prefer to stay where I am," she replied. "And there is no need for you to come nearer--my hearing is quite good."

  He shrugged his shoulders. "Suspicious, ain't yu?" he said. "Well, have it yore own way; someday yo're goin' to know me better. Now, see here, Nan"

  "You are not to call me that," she interrupted.

  "Awright, if yu'd rather I made it--sweetheart," he retorted, and laughed when he saw her eyes flash. "My, yo're awfully pretty when yu rear up--Nan."

  The girl's scornful expression showed him that he was on the wrong track and, dropping his bantering air, he said seriously, "I got a proposal to make."

  Her look of surprise made him grin. "No, it ain't what yu guessed--yet." His face sobered again. "I want peace; I was in dead earnest when I come to the C P that time, but yore father wouldn't listen; he holds the Burdettes is pizen, seemin'ly."

  "Can you wonder, with poor Kit scarcely cold in his grave?" she said, a break in her voice.

  "But yu don't lay that to Luce," he countered.

  "No, but I do lay it to the Circle B," she told him.

  "Yo're wrong, Nan," he said. "The Circle B has condemned it. We've disowned Luce--done with him."

  "Thereby showing yourselves to be curs," she cried. "Why, if Kit had committed a crime, even murder, I'd have stood by and shielded him to the last, if I knew he was guilty. But you..."

  The contempt in her tone flailed him, and the open avowal of interest in the suspected man brought his brows together in a heavy frown. He realized that she meant just what she said; that was her creed; for one she loved there was no limit, and--he bit back an oath--she loved Luce. The knowledg
e stirred his brigand nature, but he kept an iron hand on himself; only his eyes betrayed the fires flaming within.

  "If yu think thataway, yu oughta be willin' to talk to yore dad," he said. "He's got his head down an' is runnin' hell-bent for trouble like an angry steer."

  "That's not true, and if it were, I couldn't stop him," the girl replied. "Dad is not the sort of man to be dictated to; I thought he made that plain to you."

  Despite his self-control, the blood stained King Burdette's cheeks as he recalled his ignominious dismissal from the C P. He was of the type to whom opposition is a spur to anger. His proffer of peace had been a mere pretext, but its rejection, coupled with the girl's beauty and disdain, were rousing the worst in him. Jeering at him, huh? Well, she needed a lesson, and once he got hold of her, he'd make those pretty lips pay for what they had uttered. During the conversation he had been gradually edging nearer, and now he suddenly sprang forward, his long arms clutching her waist in an effort to drag her from the saddle. Nan saw the movement too late to avoid it, but King swore as the lash of her quirt seared his cheek.

  "Yu damn little wildcat," he gritted. "I'll learn yu."

  He had almost succeeded in unseating her when a silver streak flashed across the clearing and the shoulder of a grey horse sent him spinning to the ground. He was up again in an instant, his right hand darting to his hip, when a warning voice reached him.

  "Stick 'em up, yu skunk, or I'll drill yu."

  King Burdette looked into the levelled gun and furious eyes of the newcomer, and impudently folded his arms.

  "Blaze away, brother," he mocked, and to the girl, "Yu will now see the Bible story of Cain an' Abel brought right up to date."

  "Brother! " Luce retorted. "Yu've taken mighty good care to show me I ain't that--till it saves yore hide. Unbuckle that belt an' step away from it, or I'll break a leg for yu." For a bare moment the other hesitated, but he knew Luce, saw the boy's jaw harden, and obeyed; he had no wish to be crippled. "Now climb yore bronc an' fade," came the further order, and again he had no choice.