Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 07 - Sudden Rides Again(1938) (10 page)

 
          
The
gibe made them squirm. “There
were
two of ‘em,” Daggs
corrected.

 
          
The
Chief shrugged disdainfully. “You were three to one,” he said. “Where’s
Squint?”

 
          
“Thought
you knowed,” Scar said hardily, and got a look which made him regret he had
spoken.

 
          
“I
do know, but I wanted to see what lying excuse you could find for scuttling
away like scared cottontails,” was the scathing retort. “Now listen: this
fellow Green is not to be touched till I give permission—I have plans regarding
him. You have blundered twice; a third time will be—the last.
Silver, the door.”

 
          
Like
whipped curs they slunk out and repaired to the hovel they shared in common.
Here, sitting on his pallet-bed, they found Squint, who cursed them heartily
for a set of cowards.

 
          
“What
th’ hell could we do?” Scar excused. “We
was
aimin’ to
swing round an’ git behind ‘em, but a chipmunk couldn’t climb out’n that gully.
Why didn’t you keep under cover?”

 
          
“I
did, you fool, but they started bouncin’ bullets off’n a rock an’ one got me in
the thigh,” Squint retorted irritably.
“How d’you git here?”
Coger asked.

 
          
“Ran
into Silver—he toted me on his back. Gawd, he’s strong that fella, an’ can run
an’ climb like the bear-cat he is.”

 
          
“So
that’s how the Chief knew,” Scar remarked.

 
          
Squint
bristled.

 
          
“If
yo’re meanin’ I told him—”

 
          
“I
ain’t—you wouldn’t be so dumb. Satan don’t trust
nobody
,
damn him, an’ Silver was watchin’.”

 
          
“Good
for him—I’d never ‘a’ made it,” Squint said. “All I want now is a peek at that
Green hombre over the hind-sight of a gun.”

 
          
“An’
all you’ll want arter that will be a wooden box to rot in,” Scar told him. “The
Chief has put the bars up on the gent.”

 
          
“Sufferin’
serpents !
why
?”

 
          
“He
didn’t say—must ‘a’
forgot
to, mebbe,” was the
ironical reply.

 
          
“Bars
or no bars, I’m gettin’ even for this,” the wounded man growled, tapping his
bandaged thigh.

 
          
Scar
laughed harshly. “We shall shorely miss you, Squint.”

 
          
When
the two punchers returned to the Double K they found its owner in conversation
with his foreman. Sudden fancied that the latter’s brow darkened a little when
they rode up, but he could not be sure. Frosty told the tale of the day’s
doings, merely giving the facts.

 
          
“They
were putting Merry’s brand on my cows?” Keith asked, when the cowboy concluded.
“Why should they do that?”

 
          
“Jim
figured it was to get yu in bad with the Twin Diamond.”

 
          
“Pretty
far-fetched reason, that,” the foreman commented.

 
          
“Can
you think of a better one?” his employer snapped. “What was Merry’s view?”

 
          
“He
agreed it was like enough, an’ said for me to tell yu he’s buyin’ the cows,”
Frosty replied. “The brandin’ was mighty careless.”

 
          
“Did
you know the men?”

 
          
“The
two at the fire was Greasers, three more was in the ruckus at Sam’s, Jim sez;
we didn’t see the other.”

 
          
The
rancher pondered for a moment. “If it didn’t seem impossible, one might think
they were waiting for you.”

 
          
“Shore
looked thataway,” Frosty said bluntly. “The fire was bound to be seen if
anybody rode within miles.”

 
          
Lagley’s
laugh was scornful. “They claim Satan is a wizard, but I reckon he can’t guess
as
good
as that,” he said. “Ain’t but once in a while
we ride that line.”

 
          
He
regretted the words as soon as they were spoken. Keith whirled on him.
“Is—that—so?” he said slowly. “No wonder I’m losing stock when you leave the
door wide open for rustlers. Why don’t you put up a board with `Welcome’ on it?
”

 
          
The
foreman’s hard face flushed beneath the tan at this savage sarcasm. “We ain’t
strong enough to fight Hell City,” he said sullenly. “Though I’m bettin’ we’ll
have to now.”
This with a baleful glare at the two punchers.

 
          
“If
you are blaming these two men for to-day’s work you can forget it,” the Colonel
said brusquely. “I am only sorry they couldn’t exterminate them all. Green,
I’ve something to say to you.” He waited until the others had gone, and then,
“What’s your opinion of Lagley?”

 
          
“Ain’t
got one—yet,” was the non-committal reply. “Some of the men don’t like him.”

 
          
“A
popular foreman is either mighty good or mighty poor,” Sudden stated, and
changed the subject. “How many men does this Hell City jasper have?”

 
          
“Rumour
says anything from thirty to fifty.”

 
          
“Split
the difference an’ call it two score. Ain’t it odd that out of all them, three
at least should be the ones I tangled with?”

 
          
“True,”
Keith agreed. “I think you were expected. Well, probably Lagley is right, it
means war.” His face became set with a swift resolve. “Have you been told that
this masked miscreant is my—son?”

 
          
“Yeah,
by folk who don’t believe
it.
”

 
          
“The
evidence leaves little doubt,” the rancher replied, with icy calmness. “Even if
it be so, the welfare of the community demands that he be brought to justice.”
The stern voice did not falter, but the gaunt, white face told what an effort
the word had cost. It was some moments before he spoke again. “What do you propose
to do?”

 
          
“It’s
his turn to move,” the puncher pointed out. “
Me
an’
Frosty will scout around like we did to-day; I want to get wise to the
country.”

 
          
When
he returned to the bunkhouse, he found it in a state of excitement over the
defeat of the rustlers.

 
          
“Sorta
levels up for poor ol’ Tim,” one said.

 
          
“Huh!”
Lanky snorted. “A dozen Greasers wouldn’t do that.”

 
          
The
jubilation was not quite universal, several of the older men taking a
pessimistic view of the matter. Turvey spoke plainly.

 
          
“Askin’
for trouble, I’d say,” was how he put it. “What’s a few steers compared with a
man’s life?”

 
          
“How
about that time yu shot a fella for tryin’ to cheat yu out’n a measly ten
dollars?” Frosty asked, recalling a story Turvey was fond of telling.

 
          
“That
was different,” the other defended.

 
          
“Yeah,
the dollars was yourn, the steers is the 01’ Man’s,” was the pointed reply.

 
          
“Yu
kids think yu know it all, an’ then some. When yu git yore growth …”

 
          
Lazy
headed off the impending quarrel. “What
d’yu reckon
Mister Satan will do?” he enquired of the company at large.

 
          
“Tuck
his tail into his rump an’ punch the breeze, pronto, o’ course,” Turvey
sneered. “Me, I’d be scared to death to know Frosty was after my scalp.”

 
          
That
young man shared in the laugh. “Yu ain’t got
no
scalp,
yu bald-headed ol’ buzzard,” he said genially.

 
          
Lagley
had listened to the discussion in frowning silence. Now he spoke. “Green, yu’ll
ride the north line for a spell. I figure, after the fright yu’ve given
‘em”—the sarcasm was pronounced—”one man’ll be enough.”

 
          
Frosty
started to open his mouth, but closed it again when he caught his friend’s
warning glance. Later, Sudden contrived to find the foreman alone.

 
          
“Oh,
Lagley, I didn’t say nothin’ before the others, but the Colonel said for me an’
Frosty to double-team it,” he explained.

 
          
The
foreman’s eyes flashed. “O’ course, if yo’re afeard to go it alone—” he began.

 
          
Sudden
laughed. “I’m shakin’ in my shoes, but when the owner—Keith is that, I
s’pose?—gives orders …”

 
          
“They
gotta be obeyed, huh, even if the
foreman don’t
agree?”

 
          
“I
wasn’t sayin’ that, but the hand the
orders is
given
to has to carry ‘em out. The foreman can argue—”

 
          
“Me
argue with that bull-headed ol’ fool?” Lagley savagely interrupted. “I got
somethin’ better to do. If he wants to run his damned ranch to hellangone …”

 
          
He
stalked angrily away, leaving the cowboy in a thoughtful mood.

 
          
The
following morning found the friends on the scene of the previous day’s
encounter, which, Sudden now learned, was known as Coyote Canyon. The bodies
had gone, but not far, as two newly made mounds of stones testified. The ashes
of the fire had been covered with sand.

 
          
“Someone
has tidied up,” was Sudden’s comment.
“How far to Hell City
from here?”

 
          
”
‘Bout eight mile, straight along the canyon,” Frosty told him. “Thinkin’ o’
payin’ a visit?”

 
          
“Not
till I get an invite,”
was
the smiling reply, and the
other grinned too, never dreaming that the remark was meant.

 
          
Since
their task was ostensibly the driving of strays from the stretches of scrub
which clothed the foothills, they decided to separate. Two quick shots would be
the signal for rejoining with the utmost speed. Frosty having departed
eastwards, Sudden turned his horse’s head in the opposite direction. For a mile
or so, he threaded a way through clumps of thorny brush, forcing the few cattle
he unearthed out on to the plain, and then turned abruptly to the north. A
steady, devious climb along rocky, cactus-strewn defiles brought him at length
to a lofty ledge of level ground, bare save for patches of grass, a sprinkling
of gay flowers, and scattered groups of spruce and pine trees. On the far side
of this expanse were more hills, with a break in the middle of them masked by
forest growth. He was making towards this when the scream of a frightened horse
dissipated the silence, and a moment later the animal came into view, galloping
furiously hrough the boulders and brush which littered the approach o the pass.

 
          
“A
woman!” the puncher ejaculated. “What the hell …?” His question was soon
answered; little more than a hundred
paces
behind, a
long, lithe tawny form flashed in the sunlight as it leapt over an obstacle in
pursuit of its prey. The dangling reins told that the rider had lost control of
her mount; clinging desperately to the saddle-horn, she could only urge it on
in the vain hope of outrunning the peril. But the spectator saw another danger
of which she evidently knew
nothing :
crazed by
terror, the pony was racing blindly for the edge of the plateau and a sheer drop
of a thousand feet on to the jagged rocks below.