Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 07 - Sudden Rides Again(1938) (19 page)

 
          
“So,
I have only to avenge him,” she said, and her low voice was venomous. It
softened again as-she continued, “Stranger, in this den of wild beasts it is
good to have a friend; remember you can count on one who will not forget what
she owes you.”

 
          
“Why, I ain’t done nothin’,”
he protested.

 
          
“You
think not? Yet if that murderer learns of it he will treat the pair of us as he
did Pedro.”

 
          
“We
won’t tell him,” Sudden smiled. “Adios.”

 
          
He
swung his horse over towards the corral, and when he had vanished in the gloom,
Anita returned to the hovel she called home. Sinking down on the pile of rugs,
she shook her head in perplexity.

 
          
“Why
is he here?” she asked herself. “He’s not like the rest.” She had heard he was
a gunman, renowned in the West, and he looked it, but there was
a cleanness
, a self-reliance, and lack of bluster which made
him stand out among the criminals and outcasts who found a refuge in Hell City.
The thought that this stranger was no admirer of the man she had vowed
vengeance upon brought a tigerish smile to her lips.

 
          
Sudden’s
appearance in the saloon earned him no more than a glance or two; a new face
was a common occurrence, and his was not even that. Some two dozen men were
present, playing cards, dicing, or drinking at the bar. Among the latter was
Muley, who seemed to be the chief attraction. He was evidently proud of his
morning’s performance and could speak of nothing else, his one grievance being
that it had not lasted longer.

 
          
“You
hit too hard,” one of the group round him remarked.

 
          
“Hard?”
bellowed Muley. “Why, I hadn’t mor’n begun to stroke him when he goes an’ dies
on me. I’m tellin’ you, the Chief’s gittin’ poor stuff these days; calls
theirselves men an’ ain’t got the guts of a louse.”

 
          
His
malignant gaze travelled round the room, rested for an instant on the puncher,
and passed on to a youth sitting alone on a stool at the end of the bar. Sudden
had already noticed him and speculated as to what boyish escapade had brought
him there. With a wink to his companions, the flogger lurched across, and said
roughly: “What’s yore name, you?”

 
          
The
lad looked at him with drink-bemused eyes. “Ben Holt,” he replied, adding, “I
on’y come in to-day.”

 
          
“Well,
if that ain’t good news. The rule is for newcomers to set up drinks for the
crowd. What about it?”

 
          
Ben
Holt laughed dismally. “Yo’re too late, mister, I’m near busted,” he explained.
“If I’d knowed earlier … “

 
          
The
bully growled an oath, and swinging his right arm struck the boy a flat-handed
blow on the side of his head which swept him to the floor. Then he seated
himself on the vacant stool, and with an impudent grin at Sudden, said: “That’s
what we do to fresh fellas who don’t pay their footin’.”

 
          
All
eyes were on the puncher as he stepped unhurriedly forward. “I’m a fresh fella,
an’ I’m not buyin’.
So what?”

 
          
For
ten tense seconds, Muley stared into the grey-blue eyes of the man who had
called his bluff, seeking a way out. The other found it for him.

 
          
“Yu
yaller dawg,” he grated. “If I’d a whip yu should have a taste of yore own
medicine, but as it is …”

 
          
His
hand rose and fell, landing on the fellow’s bloated cheek with such force as to
send him sprawling. Lying in the dirt, spitting out inarticulate curses, he
clawed feebly at the gun he dared not draw. Covert grins were on the faces of
most of the onlookers—a bully has few friends in the day of discomfiture.
Sudden took no further notice of him, but went to the boy, who had got up and
was watching the scene with wide eyes.

 
          
“A
mouthful o’ fresh air won’t do yu no harm,” he said, and led the way to the
door.

 
          
Outside
the corral the puncher paused, ostensibly to make a cigarette, but actually to
give his companion time to shake off the fumes of the spirit he had imbibed.
The cool cleanness of the night appeared to bring him out of the semi-dazed
state. Sudden surveyed him sardonically.

 
          
“I’m
guessin’ yu
an
liquor ain’t very well acquainted,” he
remarked. “Drownin’ yore sorrows is a poor way—the blame things can anus swim.”

 
          
The
boy made a desperate attempt to smile. “I expect yo’re right,” he said. “But
you were drinkin’ too.”

 
          
“I
was takin’ a drink. To sit there lappin’ ‘em up one after the other is
somethin’ different. What brought yu here?”

 
          
It
was a common enough tale. A gambling debt he could not pay, an attempt to get
the money dishonestly which failed, and he was outside the law.

 
          
“The
sheriff an’ his men
was
hot on our trail an’ we lined
out for here. They got the other two, but I made it. I most wish I hadn’t,” he
finished miserably.

 
          
“That’s
no way to talk,” Sudden told him. “Keep yore chin up an’ stay away from liquor
an’ cards. When did yu lose that posse?”

 
          
“Two
days back, ‘bout forty mile off,” was the reply. “I rode in the water some.”

 
          
“Good
for yu. I’m bettin’ they’ve turned tail.”

 
          
Holt
remembered something. “I’m thankin’ you,” he said shyly.

 
          
“Don’t
yu. That windbag was aimin’ at me.
So long.”

 
          
Purely
as a matter of policy, the puncher returned to the saloon, the owner of which
greeted him with a grin.

 
          
“
He’s went
,” he said. “Got the face-ache, I figure; that was
a daddy of a wallop you give him.” He lowered his voice. “Don’t forget that
anythin’ goes in this man’s town.”

 
          
Sudden
realized that the warning was well-meant. “I’m obliged, friend,” he smiled.
“Right now, bed goes for me.”

 
          
Lying
on his blankets in the darkness he turned over the day’s doings. He had put two
people under an obligation, and had made another enemy; the latter troubled him
not at all. His examination of the place had only convinced him of its
strength. As for its ruler … It seemed incredible that Kenneth Keith could be
father to such a son.

 
          
“He’s
a throw-back,” Sudden mused. “The 01’ Man musta had a pirut ancestor, one o’
the bloodthirsty kind that made prisoners walk the plank just to amuse hisself,
though that would be too tame for this fella.”

 
          
Satisfied
with this solution, he went to sleep. In the morning he idled about, studying
the life in this human warren. It was a peaceful enough scene. Men, and a few
women, sunning themselves in the open, or chatting in groups outside the store
or the saloon; it might have been any one of a hundred frontier settlements he
had seen. Once, a hard-eyed rider galloped in, scattering dust and dogs in all
directions, to disappear into the Chief’s abode. He encountered the woman,
Anita, but she went by without a glance. Then he ran into Holt, and saw that
something was troubling him.

 
          
“Head
bad?” he asked.

 
          
“Feels
like it had been split open with an axe an’ joined wrong,” the boy said
ruefully. “But that ain’t anythin’.” He hesitated a moment and then blurted
out, “I tried to git away this mornin’, but the fella at the gate said I had to
have a permit.”

 
          
The
puncher shook his head. “It ain’t that easy. Better stay an’ lay for a chance.
Mebbe I’ll be able to help yu.”

 
          
In
the afternoon he went to see the Chief. He found Miss Dalroy there, and would
have retired, but the masked man stayed him.

 
          
“Come
in,” he said. “You know Belle, I believe.”

 
          
“We
met at a very fortunate moment—for me,” the girl smiled, her fine eyes dwelling
on the lithe, athletic form of the visitor. “I owe you a great deal, Mister
Sudden.”

 
          
“My
name is Green, ma’am,” he corrected stiffly, “an’
yu don’t
owe me nothin’
.”

 
          
“Well,
I give in about the name,” she replied. “For the rest, I shall—”

 
          
“I
take the debt upon myself, Belle,” Satan interrupted, and to the cowboy, “So
you didn’t avail yourself of Silver’s hospital?”

 
          
“I
like to sleep near my hoss,” Sudden replied curtly. “And you occupied your time
antagonizing another of your comrades,” the cold voice continued. “Was that
wise?”

 
          
“He
was tryin’ to run a blazer on me, an’ I don’t stand for that—from anyone.”

 
          
The
belligerent tone and very obvious challenge brought the merest ghost of a smile
to the straight lips beneath the mask, an effect the speaker did not expect.

 
          
“I’m
goin’ back to the Double K tonight,” he announced.

 
          
Sudden
saw the man’s fists tighten, but, furious as the bandit was at this slighting
of his authority, he showed no other sign.

 
          
“The
great gunman is already weary of us,” he said mockingly to the girl. “We can
only hope that he will return soon—and stay longer.”

 
          
Though
the cowboy sensed the threat his expression was blank. “Shore I’ll be back,” he
said, and added a clumsy compliment, “Hell City ain’t so much, but if it’s good
enough for Miss Dalroy …”

 
          
He
bowed to the lady, nodded to the man, and swaggered out. For a space there was
silence, and then Satan remarked, “That fellow has much to learn.”

 
          
The
woman shivered; the words were commonplace, but the tone in which they were
spoken made them sound like a death sentence. With what seemed uncanny power,
he read her thought.

 
          
“Feeling
sorry for him, Belle?”

 
          
The
start of surprise told him he had guessed correctly, but her reply was
contradictory. With a disdainful shrug she said: “Not very, but naturally, I’m
grateful.”

 
          
Dusk
was falling when Sudden set out for the Double K. As he neared the gate of the
town, a hooded figure stopped him; it was Belle Dalroy.

 
          
“I’ve
been waiting to tell you just one thing,” she whispered hurriedly. “Don’t come
back—ever.”

 
          
“Why,
ma’am, it’s right kind o’ yu, but I’m afraid that ain’t possible,” Sudden told
her. “Yu see—”

 
          
“That
you are one of those self-satisfied folk on whom a warning is wasted, yes,” she
finished cuttingly. “Very well, I can do no more.”

 
          
She
turned swiftly and was lost in the growing darkness. The puncher rode slowly
on, wondering.

 
          
When
he reached the Double K, Sudden rode straight to the ranch-house. Through the
french windows of the living-room he could see that Keith had visitors—Martin
Merry and Lagley. The girl was not present. The eyes of the men opened wide
when the cowboy tapped on the window and walked in.
Instantly
three guns covered him.