Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 06 - Sudden Gold-Seeker(1937) (12 page)

 
          
“Mebbe
yu’ll tell me what crime I’ve committed?”

 
          
“I
don’t like your friends, Mister Mason.”

 
          
“I
ain’t exactly in love with yores, but I’m not holdin’ that against yu,” he
retorted.

 
          
“My
friends are not cold-blooded killers,” she said hotly.

 
          
“Is
that so? Well, the man yo’re miscallin’ saved me from bein’ shot in the back by
one of ‘em—fella named Fagan,” Gerry said grimly. “Mebbe yu didn’t know that?”

 
          
“He
is not a friend, as you should be aware,” she cried. “I heard you had beaten
him up. I detest brawlers and—drunkards.” Her attitude of contempt roused a
devil of despair in him. For weeks he had hungered for the sight of her, and
now…

 
          
“Pore
of Snowy,” he said, and if he meant to anger her he certainly succeeded.

 
          
“I
refuse to discuss my uncle with you,” she said, and her eyes were stormy.

 
          
Mason
was reckless. ” Saint’ Paul hisself don’t hate the sight of a bottle, unless
mebbe an empty one.”

 
          
“You
are insulting,” she retorted scathingly. “Either you have been drinking or your
association with men who slay for money has debased you. I wish never to speak
to you again.”

 
          
“Yu
think it’s so but it ain’t,” Gerry told her hardily. “One day yo’re goin’ to
like me a whole lot. As for the fella yu’ve been abusin’, he’s the straightest
man I ever met.”

 
          
“With
a gun?” she asked scornfully.

 
          
“In
every way,” he replied. “He’s my partner an’ I wouldn’t give him up even for
yu, an’ yo’re goin’ to be my wife.”

 
          
“Never,”
she flamed.

 
          
“Forever’
rhymes with that an’ shore sounds nicer,” he smiled. “I ain’t sayin’ good-bye—Mary;
I’ll be seein’ yu.” Utterly bereft of speech the astounded girl watched him go,
and then, with a curious little sound, half laugh, half sob, she turned away.
Gerry Mason strode along, oblivious of the busy scene around him. A slightly
tanned oval face, from which deep blue eyes regarded him witheringly, was all
he saw, and he was filled with wonder at his own temerity.

 
          
“I
must ‘a’ been loco,” he muttered, but there was no regret. “My, but she looked
awful pretty when she r’ared up. I reckon she’ll never forgive me—till I make
her.” His unrepentant grin would have made Miss Ducane “awful pretty” a second
time had she seen it.

 
          
“So
Berg fell down again?” Lesurge said. “He appears to be somewhat of a bungler.”

 
          
“Yes,
damn it,” Stark growled. “I’m through with him.” They were alone in the
saloonkeeper’s sanctum and it was the night after the passing of Lefty Logan.
Paul shook his head.

 
          
“You
can’t afford to be,” he said. “If he goes over to Bizet and talks …”

 
          
“That
rat? He’s no proof—” Stark began.

 
          
“Rats
can bite and you don’t need to stir up trouble in a community like this,” the
other broke in. “All he’s done is to make that cursed cowboy a popular figure.”

 
          
“What
you got against him, Paul?”

 
          
“Nothing—much,
but as I told you, I’ve a feeling he’s going to make things difficult for—us.”

 
          
“Can’t
he be bought?”

 
          
“He
turned down Berg’s offer,”
came
the reminder. “I don’t
think all your money would tempt him, but there may be another way.”

 
          
“What’s
that?”

 
          
“I’ll
explain later; leave it to me,” Lesurge evaded.

 
          
On
his way home he turned over the idea which had come to him during the
conversation. It would require the aid of Lora, but he could rely on that. He
was fortunate to find her alone in the sitting-room.

 
          
“You
were complaining of being dull and having nothing to do,” he began. “Well, I’ve
found a way in which you can amuse yourself and help at the same time.” He
explained his plan, and as she listened her eyes filled with mischievous mirth.

 
          
“What
is the great idea? You are not going to slay him at my feet, are you?” she
bantered.

 
          
“Don’t
be silly, Lora—there is no question of hurting the fellow,” Paul said sharply. “We
want him on our side and if you can get him interested in yourself
… ”

 
          
“I
see,” she said. “But suppose I’m the one to get—interested?”

 
          
“You’re
not a fool.”

 
          
“No,
but I’m a woman. Well, as you say, it will be amusing. Have you any
suggestions?”

 
          
“I’ve
thought it out,” he replied, and went on to explain.

 
          
“Brilliant,
Paul,” she laughed. “Had you used your undoubted ability in some honest channel—isn’t
that how the judge generally phrases it?” She saw the gathering frown. “Oh,
well, if you’re ashamed of being crooked there’s still hope for you.”

 
          
“That
tongue of yours will one day make me consider taking a whip to you,” he grated.

 
          
“Consider
it well, Paul,” she counseled. “The man who did that to me wouldn’t live long
enough to be sorry.” She left him pacing up and down the room, his usually
immobile features contorted with fury. He got control of himself, however, and
by the time Snowy—for whom he was waiting—arrived, he was his own calm, urbane
self. The prospector was in a gay mood.

 
          
“‘Lo,
Paul, this of town is shorely whoopin’ along, ain’t she?” he greeted.

 
          
“Yes,
but it is no place for idle folk to live in.”

 
          
“Meanin’?”

 
          
“That
it is time you got busy and found that mine. Has Mary refreshed that shocking
memory of yours?” Snowy looked embarrassed. “Damned if I warn’t near forgettin’
why we come here,” he confessed. “She told me enough —I’ll reckernize the place
when I see it. Want me to start in the mornin’?”

 
          
“Hell, no.
How far is it?”

 
          
“Mebbe
twenty
mile
an’ rough travellin’.”

 
          
“You’ll
need company, at least one man who’s good with his gun.
Got
any ideas.”
Snowy was without the confidence of Lesurge and Stark; he
had not been informed of Berg’s activities.

 
          
“What
about that cowboy fella, Green?” he asked. “You won’t find a better gun-swinger
barrin’ Wild Bill, an’ some has their doubts about that.” To his surprise the
suggestion met with approval. “The very man I had in mind, Phil,” Lesurge
smiled. “I’ll arrange it. Once the mine is located, we can take out a strong
party to work it. And, by the way, Reuben Stark is our friend, so I want you to
boost him whenever you can.
Sabe?”
He went without
waiting for a reply, and the old man grimaced at his back. “Shore I sabe, Paul,
an’ I’ll boost him—into hell,” he muttered.

 
          
The
malevolent expression cleared from his face. “Glad about Green; if he’d sent
Fagan I’m afeared there’d have been an accident—to Fagan.” The cowboys were at
work on their claim when Sudden heard the slither of shod hoofs on gravel and
slipped into the undergrowth to find out who was intruding. He arrived just in
time to see the visitor, a woman, descend from her saddle and slap the pony
smartly on the rump. As the animal clattered away, she dropped to the ground
and uttered a cry of “Help!” Somewhat mystified by these proceedings, Sudden
waited a few moments and then hurried from his hiding-place. The face which
looked appealingly up to his was beautiful, and to his surprise, was that of
Lora Lesurge.

 
          
“Oh,
I’m so glad someone heard me,” she cried. “My pony slipped and threw me. I ride
quite well, but I suppose I wasn’t noticing. I’ve damaged an ankle.”

 
          
“Can
yu stand up?” the puncher asked.

 
          
From
beneath the short, divided riding-skirt, she thrust out a slim, silk-clad leg
and wriggled the dainty foot.

 
          
“Ouch!”
she gasped. Then the red lips parted, showing the perfect white teeth as she
tried to smile. “It hurts like—the devil. I hope nothing is broken.” It was an
invitation, but Sudden did not accept. “I guess yu couldn’t ‘a’ moved it,” he
said. “I’ll go chase yore broncs’ “And leave me alone?” she queried in dismay.

 
          
“I’ll
call my partner to keep cases on yu,” he smiled.

 
          
A
tiny frown indicated that the suggestion did not please her. “The animal is
half-way to Deadwood by now, and while you are catching it, I am in pain,” she
pouted.

 
          
Sudden
looked contrite. “Which I’m shorely a bonehead not to remember that,” he said.

 
          
“Yu
can have my hoss.”

 
          
“That
great black?” she cried. “I never could stay on him with a crippled foot.”

 
          
“He’ll
be all right with me along,” Sudden assured her.

 
          
The
smile of thanks he received was sweet, but there was a tinge of contempt in it;
how easily a pretty woman could lead a man! But her strategy was not
so
successful as she had assumed. When the puncher returned
he was leading two horses, his own, and the piebald mustang which Gerry called “Joseph”
because its coat was of many colours. Sudden solved the problem of mounting by
lifting her without effort into the saddle. For a brief instant one soft arm
encircled his neck, her face temptingly close to his, and then she was looking
down at him from the back of the big horse.

 
          
“You
must be frightfully strong,” she said, a little breathlessly.

 
          
“Shucks,”
he smiled. “I s’pose ropin’ long-horns mebbe toughens a fella’s muscles some.”

 
          
He
spoke one sharp word to Nigger.
whose
ears had gone
back at the strange burden.

 
          
“It
looks a long way to fall,” she said, her eyes on the smaller animal.

 
          
Sudden
swung into the piebald’s saddle and for a while they paced slowly along in
silence, the woman covertly studying a companion about whom she was getting new
ideas.

 
          
Somehow
the task Paul had set her did not seem quite so “amusing.” He had not told her
why he wanted this man, but she divined it was for no good. Also, it was not
going to be
so
easy as she had anticipated; this
product of the plains appeared to possess a severely practical mind; so far,
she had not received even one glance of approbation.

 
          
Sudden
was similiarly occupied. It seemed incredible that such a woman could have
slain a man because he insulted her, and yet it was true—or
all
the
town lied. He felt the allure of her despite the fact that he knew
she was playing a part. Why had she come to seek him, and why the pretended
injury?—for he was fully aware that both her shapely ankles were well able
fo
support her equally shapely body. Why did she desire his
company to the settlement? What had her brother to do with it? His fruitless
search for answers to these questions was interrupted by the lady;