Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 04 - Sudden Outlawed(1934) (28 page)

 
          
Carol’s
eyes opened wide and she shrank from him, dragging her hand from his hot clasp.

 
          
His
gaze enveloped her avidly, yet she could scarcely credit she had heard aright.
To her youthful mind the idea of a husband nearly twice her own age seemed
preposterous.

 
          
“But
I’ve no intention of marrying yet, Mister Baudry, and I don’t like you—in that
way,” she stammered at last. The gambler’s face showed his chagrin. Women were
usually kind to him and he had flattered himself that the dazzling prospect he
had held out, combined with his own power of attraction, would be more than
sufficient to win this unsophisticated girl of the wilds.

 
          
“Perhaps
I’ve spoken too soon. Will you try to care for me, Carol?” he urged. “There
isn’t anyone else, is there?” He saw the warm colour steal into her cheeks
again at that and his lips bunched in an ugly pout.

 
          
“No,
of course not,” she protested.

 
          
“You
haven’t got notions about any of these scarecrow riders, have you?” he asked
keenly, and instantly saw that he had made a slip.

 
          
The
impertinence angered her. “These men may be poor and ragged, Mister Baudry,”
she retorted, “but there is not one of them who would do or say anything to
hurt me, or who would not risk his life for mine.”

 
          
“I
know it—I’m all wrong,” he said contritely. “
It’s
pure
jealousy, girl; you’ve got into my blood. Promise me you’ll think it over.”

 
          
“I
would much rather forget it,” she replied. “We can be friends.”

 
          
“No,”
he cried passionately. “It’s all or nothing with me. I’m not taking your answer
yet.

 
          
I’ll
make you care. Do you know what they say of me in the settlements? `Jethro
Baudry always wins—sooner or later.’ That’s my reputation, and by the Lord, it
shan’t fail me now.”

 
          
Wounded
pride, desire, and disappointment transformed his usually immobile face into
that of a savage beast, but in a moment the smiling mask was back.

 
          
“I’ll
not bother you any more now, Carol,” he said. “I fancy Dutt is in front; I have
a word to say to him.”

 
          
He
rode off, raking his mount ruthlessly with the spurs, a fact which did him no
good with his lady-love; Carol loved horses, and distrusted those who
ill-treated them.

 
          
Scarcely
had he gone when his place was taken by Sandy—one of the “scarecrows”—and the
girl could not but mentally compare them. Certainly the boy’s attire was shabby
and worn, but the lithe body, poised so easily in the saddle, and the
deeply-tanned, youthful face, with impudent eyes which always dropped
before her own,
more than swung the balance in his favour.

 
          
“Don’t
often get this chance nowadays,” he greeted. “How come the guardian angel ain’t
ridin’ herd on yu?”

 
          
“You
ought not to speak so of my father’s friend,” she reproved, but there was a
demure twinkle accompanying the words. “Mister Baudry wanted to find Mister
Dutt. I expect he thought there was no danger of Indians stealing’ me again just
now.”

 
          
“Sometimes
I ‘most wish they would,” Sandy told her. Not daring to ask the obvious
question, she changed the subject. “Are we nearing the end of the drive?”

 
          
“I
dunno, but I’m hopin’ there’s quite a ways to go yet.” Once more she felt she
was on dangerous ground, but her eyebrows rose. Sandy’s explanation was glib
enough: “When the herd is sold, I figure we won’t be wanted, an’ I’ll be out of
a job.”

 
          
Her
face was turned away; truth to tell, she was afraid to look at him lest he
should see her fear.
For his words had brought a sudden
realization of what parting with him would mean, and with it all -thought of
Baudry vanished like smoke before a puff of wind.
Her voice shook a
little when at length she spoke:

 
          
“Dad
will need you all at the ranch. He won’t let any of you go—unless you want to.”

 
          
“Then
here’s one he can’t lose—I’ll stick closer to him than his own skin,” the young
man replied gaily.

 
          
“And
Mister Baudry is starting a ranch near the S E.” Sandy whistled softly. “Is
that so?” he said, and then, “I wouldn’t ride for him.”

 
          
There
was no rancour in the remark and she knew that she herself had nothing to do
with his decision; the gambler—as a man—had been weighed and found wanting, in
the cowboy’s estimation.

 
          
THE
man was sitting, his back against a tree, his eyes closed. By his side lay a
rifle and a saddle, while round his middle was slung a heavy revolver. His
thin, harsh face, from which jutted a beak of a nose, gave him a predatory
expression, and a straggling, uncared-for beard lent an appearance of age which
his wiry frame belied. It was Jed, riding point, who discovered him.

 
          
“Hey,
stranger, yu have shorely picked a port place for a nap,” he called.

 
          
The
man opened his eyes. “Hell!” he said weakly, “I was beginnin’ to think I was
the last fella left in the world. Ain’t got a shot o’ licker, 1 s’pose? I’m
about all in.”

 
          
“Friend,”
the cowboy grinned, “I’ve helped hustle these yere longhorns from near San
Antonio. If yu think a Texan would carry painkiller all that way yu don’t know
the breed. I figure yu lost yore bronc?” The stranger nodded. “The chuck-wagon
an’ remuda’ll be along presently; they’ll fix yu up.”

 
          
In
camp that night the stranger told his story. His name, he said, was “Rollitt,”
and he was horse-wrangler to the trail outfit they had followed. One morning he
had missed several horses, set out to track them, and had been surprised and
chased by Indians.

 
          
“Kiowas,
they were, I guessed, but I didn’t wait to make shore” he said.
“I’ve got used to my hair bein’ where it is an’ didn’t nohow fancy
it as a decoration for a brave’s bridle, so I scratched gravel plenty eager.
By bad luck they
was
between me an’ the camp, so I had
to run west. Well, I lost them war-whoops, but I killed my hoss doin’ it—just
dropped under me—an’ then I discovered I’d lost myself. That musta bin near a
coupla weeks ago, though I lost count o’ time too—I’m a good loser, yu see.
Wanderin’ around, totin’ a saddle ain’t so funny, ‘
specially
when yo’re outa grub. I was afraid to shoot, case them red devils was about, so
I lived mainly on berries an’ nuts. Once I knocked a sage hen over with a rock,
an’ I got a rattler—after he come close to getting me an’ skinned an’ et him.”

 
          
Aunt
Judy uttered a grunt of disgust. “Lawry me, man, yu must ‘a’ bin hard put to
it,” she said.

 
          
“Shore
was, ma’am,” Rollitt replied. “But that rattler was good—nice white meat like a
chicken; I’ve had wuss eatin’.”

 
          
Listening
to the story, Sudden had studied the man closely but could call up no recollection
of him. A whispered question to Sandy brought only a shake of the head.
Rollitt’s explanation seemed likely enough and yet Sudden had a feeling that
something was wrong.

 
          
Eden,
however, seemed satisfied.

 
          
“Yu’ve
had a tough time, stranger, an’ I reckon there’s small hope o’ joinin’ yore own
outfit yet awhile,” he said. “We lost our wrangler back on the trail; one o’
the boys has been deputizin’, but I guess he’d be pleased to hand over the job.
What do yu say?”

 
          
“Well,
I’m shorely a maverick an’ I’m thankin’ yu,” the newcomer replied, and, as the
cattleman put a question, “This country is new to me but I figure yu should be
north o’ the Wichita. We kept a straighter line, but we got held up an’ had to
hand over cash or cattle. I’d say the longer trip’ll pay yu in the end.”

 
          
So
it was arranged. Rollitt took over the remuda and appeared to know the work. He
did not mix much with the men but was frequently seen in converse with Dutt,
who explained that both of them hailed from Missouri. Sudden saw little of the
man, but, as he confided to Sandy, that little was enough.

 
          
“What’s
the poor devil done to yu?” the young man asked. “Nothin’—yet,” was the reply.

 
          
“Yu
didn’t see all Rogue’s men, did yu?”

 
          
“Less’n
half, I’d say; he had a biggish crowd—scattered too.
yu
ain’ thinkin’ this jigger was planted there to wait for us? His tale seemed
straight enough.”

 
          
But
Sudden was serious. “I’ve a hunch he’s here to make trouble—mebbe for us.”

 
          
“Well,
0I-timer, man is born to trouble, as the sparks fly upward,” Sandy quoted.
“We’ve met the gent afore an’ we’re still here, ain’t we?”

 
          
He
was in a gay humour these days. His lady smiled upon and permitted him to ride
with her again, for Baudry—though he accompanied her now and then—deliberately
absented himself in the hope that she might miss him.

 
          
It
was nearly a week later that Sudden’s forebodings were justified. The foreman,
distress signals flying in his face, strode over to where the men were
breakfasting and called Sudden aside.

 
          
“The
Ol’ Man wants yu an’ Sandy, pronto,” he said.

 
          
The
cattleman was sitting with his back to a wagon wheel. Carol, Baudry, and Dutt
were seated near, and standing by was the new hand, Rollitt. Eden’s brows bent
in a heavy frown when he saw the men he had sent for. He wasted no time.

 
          
“Green,
how long yu been one o’ Rogue’s riders?” he rasped.

 
          
“I
ain’t,” the cowboy said coolly.

 
          
“Don’t
lie,” the old man roared. “Rollitt here saw yu in Rogue’s hide-out just before
yu come to the S E.”

 
          
Sudden
looked at the wrangler. “So yu are one o’ his men?”

 
          
“Nope,
I happened to drift in,” the fellow said sullenly. “He made me an offer an’ I
refused it.”

 
          
“My
own case exactly,” Sudden said dryly.

 
          
“Yu
were seen workin’ with the outlaws, brandin’ stolen cattle,” Eden went on.

 
          
“Those
men were feedin’ me; I gave a hand,” Sudden explained. “I was told the cows
were mavericks.”

 
          
“Yu
were mighty friendly with Rogue, an’ after yu’d gone he gave out that yu were
on an errand for him.” ‘Sudden’s eyes sought the informer again. “For a casual
stranger yu seem to have been pretty deep in Rogue’s confidence,” he said
acidly.

 
          
Eden
ignored the comment. “An’ yore èrrand’ was to get into my outfit an’ help wreck
the drive,” he said bitterly.

 
          
“I
‘pear to have failed down on that,” the accused replied.

 
          
“Yeah,
for yore own reasons,” Eden sneered. “No wonder yu could round up them
stampeded steers. Easy, warn’t it, when yore boss—gettin’ a better idea—told yu
to do
it.
An’ then, for some devil’s purpose, he lets
yu fetch my daughter back.”

 
          
“Make
a job of it,” Sudden urged with savage sarcasm. “Say. 1 was in cahoots with the
Comanches too.”