Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 04 - Sudden Outlawed(1934) (38 page)

 
          
Sudden
was surmising, but correctly, and the outlaw gritted his teeth at the reminder.
He must be sure, and how could he be in that blinding blackness? For there was
no light; even the tiny unglazed window could hardly be located, so dark was
the night outside. Flat on his belly the half-breed lay motionless, waiting for
some movement which might betray his enemy’s whereabouts.

 
          
An
idea came to him—Baudry’s gun. If he could obtain that and fire four shots,
Sudden would deem him defenceless, and … He knew the direction in which the
body lay and began to make his way towards it. Hardly daring to breathe, he
crawled on inch by inch, feeling cautiously for obstacles. It was a
blood-chilling task, for the slightest sound might bring first the agony of
tearing hot lead, and then—death. At length his groping fingers touched a still
face, travelled downwards and found a shoulder-holster—empty. He stifled the
curse which rose to his lips, and edged away.

 
          
“Yu
ain’t a quick thinker, Navajo,” the taunting voice said “I’ve got Baudry’s
gun.”

 
          
In
his rage and disappointment the half-breed fired at the spot where he judged
the speaker to be. An answering spit of flame stabbed the gloom and a bullet
nicked his neck. The voice spoke again:

 
          
“Near thing, Navajo.
A mite to the right an’ yu’d be
travellin’ the one-way trail.’ The incident shook the outlaw’s confidence.
Hell! If the fellow could see in the dark … And he had wasted a shot, for
though the silence was profound again he knew that he had missed. The thought
of what his cupidity had cost carne back to torment him: wealth, possession of
the girl, for whom he had hungered since first he laid his leering eyes upon
her, freedom. He visioned the pair of them riding into the trackless wilderness
and his lips went wide in a lecherous grin. Then he came to earth again and
blasphemed at the reality; he was trapped, likely to lose all, even life
itself.

 
          
Lying
there in the stillness so pregnant with danger he flogged his faculties to find
a device to extricate
himself
and, at length, hit on a
plan. It would be a desperate risk but he resolved to take it. And he must act
at once, for he knew that his courage was ebbing; the jeering devil waiting so
patiently to kill him was his master. Rising swiftly to his knees, he fired and
swayed away instantly. Sudden aimed at the flash, heard the thud of a falling
body, and a deep groan. Five—ten minutes passed and no sound came. The cowboy
moved a foot noisily but nothing happened.

 
          
“Looks
like I may’ve got him,” he muttered.

 
          
Groping
on the floor, he found the candle and lighted it. Navajo was lying on his side,
his face buried in the bend of his left arm, his right arm hidden under his
body. His gun lay some feet away. In the uncertain light he appeared to be
dead. Sheathing his pistol, Sudden stooped to turn the body over. Instantly it
came to life, the right hand darting upwards in a vicious stab.

 
          
With
a lightning snatch the cowboy clutched the wrist, wrenched it
aside,
and springing back, pulled and fired. Navajo, his
face ferociously distorted in a murderous grin, sank back. This time there was
no doubt.

 
          
Chilled
to the bone by the narrowness of his escape, Sudden leant against the wall. Had
he delayed an instant, or missed the deadly thrusting wrist, eight inches of
steel would have ripped him open. He drew a long breath and wiped the cool
moisture from his forehead. Then he looked at the dead man with an odd respect.

 
          
“Didn’t
figure yu had the savvy for a play like that,” he mused. “Yu fooled me plenty
an’ a’most deserved to get away with it, though I’m just as pleased yu didn’t.”

 
          
He
searched for and secured the stolen money, and then the sound of a galloping
horse straightened him up, gun in hand. It was Sandy who thrust open the door.

 
          
“Jim,
yu all right?” he called.

 
          
“Yeah,
an’ it’s lucky,” Sudden reproved. “If any o’ these other hombres had been on
their feet instead what would ‘a’ happened to yu, bustin’ in like that?
Ain’t yu got nothin’ but sawdust in that red head?”

 
          
“Where’s
Carol?” the boy asked, disregarding the aspersion. “Outside—tied to a hoss,”

 
          
Sudden
told him, adding grimly, “I’ve been too busy to turn her loose.”

 
          
Sandy’s
eyes widened as he looked round. “Gosh,
Jim,
did yu
get ‘em all?”

 
          
“No, yu chump,” Sudden replied, and told what he believed to have
happened.

 
          
As
they bent over Rogue, his eyelids flickered and his lips breathed a question.

 
          
“She’s
safe,” Sudden assured him.

 
          
Sandy
went out and found that Carol was conscious again. He untied and lifted her
down.

 
          
She
asked about Rogue. “He’s badly hurt,” the boy told her.

 
          
“I
must go to him” she said.

 
          
“It’s—pretty
terrible—in there,” he demurred.

 
          
“It
would have been more terrible—for me—if he hadn’t come,” she cried, and to that
Sandy could say nothing.

 
          
A
spark of life shone in the dying outlaw’s tired eyes when she entered the
cabin.

 
          
Kneeling
by his side she strove to thank him, sobs choking her.

 
          
“It
don’t
matter,” he said.

 
          
“Can’t
I do anything?” she asked hopelessly.

 
          
A
little
shake
of the head, and then, doubtfully, “Once
I had a lass who would be about yore age …”

 
          
With
swift comprehension, she bent over and pressed her lips to the furrowed brow of
the man who had killed and robbed, yet given his life for her.

 
          
“It’s
too good—an end—fora—rogue,” he murmured.

 
          
The
ghost of a smile passed over his hard mouth and that was all. Sandy led the
weeping girl out of the hut, clumsily trying to comfort. In her overwrought
state she could think of one thing only.

 
          
“Sandy,
he died for me,” she cried. “I’ll never forget that.”

 
          
“If
I didn’t owe him so much I’d feel jealous,” the boy said huskily.

 
          
Carol
turned to him impulsively, thrilled by his tone. Her forthright nature scorned
evasion.

 
          
“You
needn’t be,” she said softly. “Oh, Sandy, when that woman told me you
were
hurt, I—nearly—died.”

 
          
Sudden
unnecessarily slammed the cabin door, propped a plank against it to keep out
prowling coyotes, and came towards them.

 
          
“The
boys will be over in the mornin’,” he said.

 
          
Through
the black velvet of the night they rode back to town. Sudden led the way, his
thoughts dwelling on the dead outlaw. Though his meeting with the man had meant
nothing but misfortune, he had liked him, and in some way he could not
understand, was conscious of a sense of loss. The pair behind were riding close
together, and Sudden smiled a little bitterly at the reflection that he was
soon to lose another friend. Had Rogue lived
…

 
          
It
was not until the morning that the rancher was sufficiently recovered to hear
the full story of the previous night’s happenings. Varying expressions chased
each other across his rugged features as Carol told the tale, and when it was
ended, he brought his fist down with a thump on the pillow beside him.

 
          
“By
heaven, Jim, all the herd-money wouldn’t pay what I owe yu,” he said. “But
yu’ll be comin’ back to the S E with me, an’—”

 
          
A
shake of the head interrupted him. “I’m obliged,” the cowboy replied, “but yore
memory ain’t workin’.”

 
          
“Shucks!
I got friends who can pull ropes,” Eden said. Sudden’s grin was sardonic. “I
got enemies who can do the same an’ mebbe my neck would be in the loop o’ one,”
he pointed out.

 
          
“No,
seh, I’m shore fond o’ Texas but I ain’t honin’ to end my days there—yet.” His
face sobered.

 
          
“Besides,
but for another man yu’d have nothin’ to thank me for.”

 
          
“I
ain’t allowin’ that,” Eden returned. Despite the amend Rogue had made, he found
it difficult to think kindly of the outlaw. His gaze went to Sandy. “I’m told
yu kept them rats from finishin’ me off,” he went on. “
yu
must ‘a’ had a change o’ heart since the Colorado.”

 
          
“Hold
yore hosses, seh, an’ take a squint at these,” Sudden interposed, producing a
pair of beaded moccasins. “Found ‘em in Navajo’s saddle-bag; they fit those
tracks I measured. An’ there’s this.”

 
          
The
rancher took the proffered slip of paper. “Baudry’s fist an’ signature,” he
muttered, and read the contents aloud: “‘I have to-day bet Navajo one thousand
dollars that my friend, Sam Eden, gets his herd through and comes safely back
to the S E.’ ”

 
          
The
document bore the date the drive started. With knitted brows Eden studied it;
then the sinister import dawned upon him.

 
          
“Why,
he’s offerin’ the fella a thousand cold to put me outa business,” he burst out.

 
          
“Yu
said it,” Sudden agreed. “An’ when he failed to turn the trick hisself he
bribed Lasker.”

 
          
The
old man looked woodenly at Sandy. “That appears to let yu out,” he said.
“S’pose I’ll have to take yore word.”

 
          
This
ungenerous surrender brought a reproachful “Daddy!” from his daughter, and an
expression of angry scorn on the young man’s face.

 
          
“I
ain’t offerin’ it,” he retorted. “Think what yu please.”

 
          
Aunt
Judy flung herself into the discussion with her usual impetuosity. “Sam Eden,”
she said sharply, “if I was yore daughter—even by adoption—I’d box yore
stubborn ears.” She slanted a bony finger at Sandy. “Do I have to tell yu who
that boy is?”

 
          
A
slow smile softened the rancher’s face. “No, that’s my scamp of a son, Andrew
Eden,” he replied, and the harshness was gone from his voice also.

 
          
“Your
son,
and you treated him so—unkindly?” Carol cried.
“You could even think …”

 
          
The
rancher wriggled uneasily and then shook his head. “Don’t reckon I ever really
believed that, but I had to
he
shore,” he excused.
“An’ I wanted to see if he would stand the iron.

 
          
I
didn’t know the game, but I was willin’ to play it his way, so I told Jeff an’
Peg-leg to keep their traps closed—they
savvied
him
too.
How come yu to be with the Rogue, boy?”

 
          
“Got
word he was rustlin’ yore cattle,” Sandy explained. “Later, I learned it was
more serious an’ when he sent Jim an’
myself
to join
yore outfit it looked like a chance to put a crimp in his plans.”

 
          
“Why pertend to be a stranger?”
Eden asked.