Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 04 - Sudden Outlawed(1934) (19 page)

 
          
“Desert
ahead,” he said briefly. “Ain’t drifted on to the Staked Plain, have we?”

 
          
The
question put a perturbed expression on the foreman’s lined features.

 
          
“Hell,
Jim, I can’t say,” Jeff confessed.
“That cussed stampede
throwed us right out, an’ I dunno nothin’ about this blame’ country.
Mebbe we’re on’y on the fringe of it.”

 
          
“Better
swing to the east anyways,” Sudden advised.

 
          
Jeff
gave the necessary instruction to the point men and then rode ahead with Sudden
after the herd. When they sighted it, Jeff bit on an oath; the cattle were
floundering through a sea of sand, hummocks, ridges, and long rolling swells
stretched out unendingly until they merged with the pale blue of the cloudless
sky. As they were about to pass the wagon, Peg-leg jerked a thumb backwards.

 
          
“The
Ol’ Man has been askin’ for yu, Jeff,” he grunted. “Wanted to know what we was
doin’ in this fry-pan? I done told him it was better’n bein’ in the fire, but
he on’y cussed me.”

 
          
Sam
Eden, propped up inside the conveyance, greeted them peevishly; with returning
strength, he was beginning to chafe at inaction, as a sick man will. The
foreman set out the situation.

 
          
“At
least we’ve dodged the redskins an’ mebbe this sand ain’t but a strip,” he
finished. “
yu
got the best of it in here, Sam; the air
outside would choke a wooden image.” The cattleman’s reply was a wholesale
condemnation of the Indians, the desert, the wagon, and the man who was
responsible for his being confined to it. Though he spoke in a low voice, one
of the women sitting beside the driver heard and promptly parted the curtains
which screened the front of the vehicle.

 
          
“Make
tracks,” Judy ordered. “How’n hell am I to git that fella fit if yu come around
upsettin’ him? Take yore damn troubles somewhere else.”

 
          
“He’s
here ‘
cause
I wanted to see him,” the invalid said.
“Then yu got no more sense than he has,” the lady retorted. “Did I hear yu
cough?”

 
          
“No,”
Eden replied quickly, and clutched his cherished pipe.

 
          
He
knew the threat behind the question. With a feeble grin at his foreman, he
added, “Better fade, Jeff; she’s the doc, yu know, bl—ess her.”

 
          
Mile upon mile under the pitiless sun they crawled, both men and
beasts choking in the clouds of dust churned up by thousands of tramping feet.
On all sides lay the arid waste of bleached sand, the powdery particles of
which covered them with a coating of dirty white, invaded eyes, mouth, and
nostrils, and getting between the skin and clothing, caused intolerable
discomfort. Progress was painfully slow, for the cattle sank knee-deep in the
soft surface and riders had to tie their ropes to the wagon in order to pull it
up the slopes. Here and there a bare shoulder of rock, a stunted mesquite, or a
cactus, its spines gleaming frostily, broke the soul-sickening sameness of the
scene. The sand flung the sun’s rays back in their faces and they seemed to be
wading through a lake of shimmering heat.

 
          
The
cool night air brought some slight mitigation of their sufferings but instead
of being baked they were nearly frozen. Some of the cook’s cherished fuel and a
few dead mesquite branches supplied a poor fire, round which those not watching
the herd huddled in humorous discontent. The two barrels of water slung to the
wagon were all of the precious liquid they possessed; the horses were given a
bare swallow apiece but the cattle had to go thirsty. One mug of coffee was the
allowance for each man.

 
          
“D’j’ever
see such a durned country?” Jed complained, as he ruefully finished his drink.

 
          
“Fella
told me once that more’n two-thirds o’ the earth is covered with water an’ we
gotta come to a bit where there ain’t enough to rust a nail.”

 
          
At
the first glimmer of grey in the east they arose, shivering, swallowed a scanty
breakfast, and set out; the foreman was anxious to get as far as possible ere
the sun’s rays attained their full force. The day proved to be a repetition of
the preceding, the discomfort intensified by the fact that even the miserable
ration of water they had then enjoyed was no longer available; a quart or so,
reserved for the invalid and the women,
was
all that
remained.

 
          
By
mid-day it was evident the cows could not go much farther. Already a few had
fallen and had, perforce, to be abandoned; the rest still staggered weakly on,
tongues protruding, sullenly lowing, and many of them nearly blind. The foreman
ranged up beside Sudden, who was leading the herd. His voice was little more
than a whisper:

 
          
“Jim,
if we don’t git outa this Devil’s oven mighty soon it’s our finish. That black
o’ yores ‘pears to be in better shape than any o’ the hosses; ride on an’ take
a look-see.”

 
          
Sudden
nodded and forged ahead, quickly leaving the labouring
herd
behind, though his own pace was no more than a walk. He had covered about a
mile when a flat hummock of rock attracted his attention and he rode to the top
of it. From there he had a more extended view.

 
          
Wiping
the bitter alkali dust from his smarting eyes he stared unbelievingly. Was it a
mirage, that maddening mockery of the desert, or did he really see a dark,
irregular line between the sky and the sand? He gazed again, intently, but the
vision persisted. He tried to utter a whoop but his swollen tongue and parched
throat produced only a hoarse cackle. When the herd came in sight, a straggling
string of grey ghosts he waved an arm and Jeff joined him. The foreman’s
squinting eyes followed the pointing finger, and he managed to articulate:

 
          
“If
them’s
trees, it means runnin’ water. Ride on, Jim,
there may be Injuns about.”

 
          
Sudden departed, taking his own and Jeff’s empty canteens.
Gradually,
as he approached it, the dark line thickened and presently took the form of
foliage. The trees were but half a mile distant now, a long wall of them, pine,
oak, cottonwood, with a close undergrowth of thorny bushes. The nearness of
them put new life into both horse and rider. In a few moments they saw the
river, a sluggish stream less than a hundred yards across, passing between wide
sloping banks. Sudden drank sparingly, dipped his head in the water, and then
dragged his unwilling mount away from it.

 
          
“Yu’ve
had enough, for now, yu old soak,” he admonished. “Wanta give yoreself
a colic
or somethin’?”

 
          
The
black rubbed its wet, silken nostrils against his shoulder and gave in. At the
top of the bank, Sudden mounted and rode back to carry the good news. The
foreman’s face brightened, and when he had moistened his aching throat and sent
the canteens back down the line, he looked at the stumbling beasts beside him,
and said:

 
          
“They’ll
just about make it—we’ll lose some, mebbe, but that can’t be helped.
They’s
perkin’ up a’ready. See of Show’em-how there; he can
smell that damn water.”

 
          
At
the head of the herd the big longhorn was striding gallantly along, nose up,
nostrils distended, and from time to time he gave vent to a feeble bellow, as
of a leader encouraging, his followers.

 
          
“We’ll
have to rest ‘em up for a day or so,” the foreman continued. “She ain’t much of
a river, yu say?”

 
          
“That’s
so, but I’d rest ‘em the other side,” Sudden advised. “She’s low now, but come
a storm, she’d be a rip-roarin’ devil. Get ‘em over, pronto, ol-timer.”

 
          
“Any special reason for sayin’ that, Jim?”
Jeff inquired.
“Them steers is plenty tuckered out for swimmin’.”

 
          
“There
ain’t much o’ that an’ they’ll feel different after a swill,” Sudden told him.
“See here, Jeff; the water is risin’ on’y by inches yet—but that means more to
come.”

 
          
The
other nodded agreement; he knew how quickly a stream showing a mere trickle of
water could become a raging torrent. They had almost reached the river when
Sudden’s restless eyes lighted on the remains of a fire, almost hidden behind a
big cactus. They rode to the spot.

 
          
“Injuns?”
the foreman inquired, indicating a moccasin track.

 
          
Sudden
shook his head. “The sticks is laid criss-cross an’ burned in the middle, white
man fashion; a redskin
lays
‘em all pointin’ to the
centre an’ burns the ends.” He searched the surrounding ground. “Ain’t
no
hoofprints. What’s a white man on foot doin’ in these
parts?”

 
          
“I
got riddles enough a’ready,” Jeff said dryly.
“Best git that
cussed wagon an’ hosses over first, I s’pose.”

 
          
So
the herd was held back till this was done. Fortunately the bed of the stream
was firm, and—as Sudden had guessed —there was not, as yet, much deep water, so
the unwieldy vehicle was transported without undue difficulty. The remuda
followed, and then came the cattle.

 
          
Tumbling
pell-mell down the bank the parched brutes staggered into the water and stood
there as though rooted. It was Sudden who saw the solution. “Keep on pilin’ ‘em
in, Jeff,” he cried.

 
          
The
plan worked. The pressure of the thirsty ones behind forced the leaders into
deep water and soon they were swimming for the other bank. The foreman breathed
again, but his troubles were not yet at an end. The crossing was only nearing
completion when a warning came from Sandy:

 
          
“Hurry
‘em up, Jeff; she’s risin’ rapid.”

 
          
It
was true; the span of the river was twice what it had been, and the outfit,
recognizing the danger, made desperate efforts to hustle over the rest of the
herd. Sluggishly, as it seemed, the jaded longhorns fought their way through
the deepening water and climbed the opposing slope, reluctant to leave the
liquid they had for forty-eight hours been without.

 
          
“We’ll
make it,” Jeff said, relief in his tone.

 
          
He
spoke too soon. The last of the “drag”—consisting of the weaker animals—in
charge of Jed, was little more than halfway across when a dull booming sound
which grew louder every moment sent all eyes up-stream. There, at a narrow bend
where the banks rose steeply, they saw a sight to make the bravest quail. Piled
up between the bluffs was a great wall of water twenty feet high, the foaming
crested lip of which bristled with driftwood, great branches and even whole
trees, torn up bodily by the torrent.

 
          
The
cowboy saw the danger, and leaving his charges to fend for themselves, spurred
his mount in an endeavour to reach the bank. But the peril was advancing too
swiftly. With a thunderous crash the avalanche of water broke upon the
struggling forms and swept them from sight. Cursing in their helplessness, the
rest of the outfit watched their comrade go to his doom.

 
          
All
save Sudden, who, at the first glimpse of the threatening deluge, had raced his
horse to a jutting point in the bank and, at the risk of being swept away
himself, had swung his rope. The loop dropped over Jed’s shoulders just as the
limb of a tree struck him from his saddle and buried him in a seething welter
of tormented water.

 
          
Feeling
that the rope, already tied to the horn, was taut, Sudden backed his horse
slowly away from the river. A cheer greeted him when it was seen that the limp
figure of the cowboy was at the end of the lariat. Willing hands carried him to
a dry spot and sought for injuries; beyond a scratch or two, there was none. Dumpy,
who, with a strangely pale face, had been feeling anxiously for broken bones,
gasped with relief when the rescued man opened his eyes and sat up.