Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 07 - Sudden Rides Again(1938) (25 page)

 
          
That
the “li’l jape” had been duly “put over” Sudden got news in the morning, when
Silver arrived at the saloon with an urgent summons from the Chief.

 
          
“
He’s wantin’
you immediate,” he objected, when the puncher
casually promised to come along. “I gotta take you back, or he’ll skin me. All
het up, he is—never seed him so rathy.”

 
          
“What’s
the trouble?” Sudden enquired.

 
          
“Guess
he’ll tell you hisself,” was the cautious reply. “Best watch yore step, an’
keep yore
han’s
still.”

 
          
Sudden
thought little of the warning, but later he was to remember it. The bandit
chief was pacing savagely up and down. At the sight of the puncher he stopped
and snapped:

 
          
“Where
did you spend last night?”

 
          
Sudden
looked surprised. “In Dirk’s,” he said. “Takin’ the wool off some o’ yore lambs
who fancied they could play poker; it cost them near a hundred good dollars to
learn different. Easy pickin’s, I’m tellin’ yu.”

 
          
“How
long were you there?”

 
          
“All the evenin’.
Cashed in after midnight—got tired o’
slaughterin’ the innocents—an’ hit the hay. What’s bitin’ yu?”

 
          
Through
the slits in the mask, the fierce eyes bored into the puncher’s impassive face.

 
          
“I’ve
been robbed,” Satan said vehemently. “You alone knew those men were due from
Bosville.”

 
          
“Yu
didn’t tell me when or which way they’d come. Ain’t they arrived?”

 
          
“Yes,
on foot, with a tale of being held up, money and weapons taken, and horses
driven off.”

 
          
Sudden
whistled. “Sounds a bit lame, but mebbe they’re feelin’ thataway, having
walked,” he grinned, and got a glare which did not disturb him. “S’pose they’ve
cached the stuff—”

 
          
“Then
why come back at all?” Satan interjected.

 
          
“If
they can make their story stick, they’d have nothin’ to fear from yu.”

 
          
The
masked man shook his head; conceit would not permit the thought that any of his
underlings would dare so far.

 
          
“Another
thing, I reckon yu ain’t the on’y subscriber to that Bosville paper. Some
fellas may’ve seen it, an’ guessed right.”

 
          
“I
doubt if there is another copy within twenty miles. You seem very anxlous to
pin the blame on someone.”

 
          
Sudden’s
reply was a question, “Did the hold-up happen before midnight?” and when the
other nodded, he went on, “What more do yu want? There’s on’y one o’ me, an’
twenty of yore own men can tell yu where I was. Have some sense.”

 
          
With
an air of disgust, he reached for his “makings” and stepped back just as a gun
roared and a bullet chipped the stone wall behind the spot where he had been
standing. In a flash his own weapons were out, one covering the bandit, the
other the picture, wreathing smoke from which showed whence the shot had come.

 
          
“What
the hell’s the meanin’ o’ that?” he grated.

 
          
The
masked man stood motionless. “I don’t know,” he said calmly.
“Silver!”

 
          
The
uncouth attendant slid into view, a smoking pistol in one shaking hand. “I was
just cleanin’ her an’ she done went off,” he stammered. “I warn’t meanin’
no
harm.”

 
          
“You
might have killed one of us; I’ll deal with you later,” his master said
threateningly. “Quite an accident, you see, Sudden. The lout knows nothing of
firearms, but will carry one.”

 
          
“Yeah,”
Sudden replied, and stepped nearer the painting. “Why, if yu ain’t lucky; the
bullet came right through the muzzle o’ the gun so the picture ain’t hurt
none
; can’t see the hole less yu look close.”

 
          
Satan
could detect no raillery in the voice and again found himself debating whether
he was dealing with a clever man or a fool. He expressed his surprise at the
remarkable coincidence.

 
          
“Comin’
back to cases, I’m reckoned pretty useful at readin’ sign,” Sudden said. “The
scene o’ the holdup might tell me somethin’—if I can find it.”

 
          
“The
men said it took place where the road from the west gate divides,” Satan
replied.

 
          
“Ain’t
been so far in that direction,” the puncher said easily. “I’ll let yu know if I
hit on anythin’.” On his way out, he slapped Silver on the shoulder and cried,
“Cheer up, Beautiful, a miss is as good as a mile, yu know.”

 
          
Which
boisterous exit left the bandit deeper in doubt than ever, and did not improve
his temper. With a bitter oath, he vented his spleen on the one object
available.

 
          
“Come
here, you clumsy clown,” he called. “What possessed you to fire without the
signal?”

 
          
Silver
lumbered forward, his ungainly form trembling. “Guessed he was goin’ for his
gun,” he quavered. “Was scared he’d git you.”

 
          
“Get
me?” was the retort. “Did you think I was asleep? He’s fast, but I could beat
him. You have made me ridiculous —he was laughing at me, damn him. Another
break like that and Muley shall take the flesh from your ugly, misshapen carcass
and feed what is left to the coyotes. Get out of my sight, you freak.”

 
          
Long
ago he had learned that reference to his deformities cut the poor brute to the
heart, and he delighted in the use of the knowledge. Turning his back
contemptuously, he failed to see a look which would have made him thoughtful.

 
          
Satisfaction
at the Double K over the rebuff to the rustlers was not as great as might have
been expected. There had always been a friendly rivalry between the two
ranches, and the fact that the Twin Diamond had undoubtedly scored, though it
was to the Double K’s advantage, rankled with both owner and outfit. Some of
the latter had another reason for not exulting unduly, and of these the foreman
was the most disgruntled.

 
          
“Can’t
figure it nohow,” he said to Turvey. “Somebody must ‘a’ put them lunkheads
wise. Jeff’ll be mad.”

 
          
“No
blame to us anyway,” the little man replied. “Our boys didn’t find ‘em. If
there’s bin a leak it’s from Hell City. Reckon Green could ‘a’ had anythin’ to
do with it?”

 
          
“
He
dasn’t show his face at the Twin Diamond, an’ after
helpin’ to steal the herd he wouldn’t be likely to hand ‘em back to us.”

 
          
“That’s
so,” Turvey agreed. He did not know of the frame-up. “He’s in Hell City, I
s’pose, an’ cherishin’ no feelin’ of affection for us. Me, I’d ruttier he was
danglin’ from a tree. How in blazes he got away from three o’ yu “

 
          
“Oh,
can
the chatter,” Steve said angrily. “That trick o’
shootin’ out the light gave him a chance an’ he took it. He’s Jeff’s man now
an’ that makes us safe from him.”

 
          
“Does
it work both ways?” Turvey leered.

 
          
“I
didn’t say that,” was the reply.

 
          
The
subject of their conversation cropped up again at supper. With the object of
stirring up Frosty, one man asked his neighbour if he had seen any more of
Green?

 
          
“No,
nor I don’t hanker to,” came the answer. “Last timewas the night o’ the raid
an’ he was pumpin’ lead at me plenty eager.”

 
          
Frosty
surveyed the rotund form of the speaker disdainfully. “Couldn’t ‘a’ bin him,
he’d not miss a mark like yu with eyes shut,” he said.

 
          
“If
it warn’t him why did he skip?” the stout one argued. “Would yu wait if the Ol’
Man promised to stretch yore neck?”

 
          
The
other hesitated; Keith’s reputation for keeping his word was well established.
“It was his hoss,” he evaded.

 
          
“Mebbe,
with another fella straddling it,” Frosty retorted Lagley cut in. “Green told
me hisself no one else could ride the black. He was as guilty as hell, an’ yu
know it.”

 
          
The
cowboy stood up, his face suddenly stern. “What yu mean, I know it?” he asked,
and his voice had an edge. “If yo’re tryin’ to rope me up with the rustlin’, yu
an’ me’ll have a li’l argument, foreman or no.”

 
          
Lagley’s
gesture was one of impatience.
“I didn’t mean nothin’ o’ the
sort.
Yu talk like a kid. Where’s the sense gettin’ sore over a cussed
outlaw who oughta be swingin’ in a loop?”

 
          
“He’s
my friend.”

 
          
“They
say a fella is knowed by the company he mixes with,” Turvey sneered.

 
          
“If
there was any truth in that yu’d be damned lonely,” Frosty snapped.

 
          
A
black scowl was all the answer he received. Good tempered as he usually was,
when the white-haired puncher went “on the prod,” none of the outfit was
anxious to get in his way.

 
          
Silver
was in a seventh heaven. Passing along the street, the woman Anita had smiled
at him from the entrance to her abode, and, when he paused in sheer
bewilderment, invited him to come in and talk with her.

 
          
“It
is cool inside, and I am lonely,” she made excuse.

 
          
The
experience was a novel one; usually members of the other sex shrank from him in
fear or repulsion. This fact, of which he was bitterly conscious, rendered him
painfully shy whenever a female was even in sight. Anita was not
so
beautiful as Belle Dalroy, but she was young and comely.
For a moment he hesitated, glancing right and left. Was she playing a joke upon
him? Well, if so, he had it in his power to make it an expensive amusement. The
thought gave him courage, and he went in. The squalid place set him more at
ease, and he perched himself on a stool.

 
          
“You
like whisky?” she asked.

 
          
Silver
did; it made him forget that he was not as other men. His small, deep-set eyes
glittered as she poured out nearly a full glass, handed it to him, and sat
down.

 
          
“Ain’t
you drinkin’?” he asked, and grinned when she said the spirit burned her
throat. “It
don’t
hurt mine,” he boasted. “The more it
bites, the better I’m pleased.” He tilted the tumbler, absorbing half the
contents at a gulp. “That’s the stuff; makes a man o’ one. Try some.” He
emptied the glass as he spoke and held it out. This time she filled it.

 
          
“I
don’t want to be a man,” she smiled. “You are one already, important, a friend
of the Chief.”

 
          
“Friend?”
he repeated, and his expression was hardly one of affection. Then, “So you
reckon me a man—like the rest?”

 
          
“Not
like the rest,” she said softly. “You have the strength of three and—I admire
strong men.”

 
          
Silver
drank again and laughed coarsely. “
you
shore picked a
loser in Pedro.”