Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 07 - Sudden Rides Again(1938) (29 page)

 
          
“Dealtry
is a duffer; if he meddles in my affairs he’ll be wearing one himself, though
he won’t know it,” was the threatening answer. “And don’t make the mistake of
thinking these trifling reverses—due to the poor tools I have to use —are
important. I shall win—in the end.”

 
          
“I’ll
remember,” Sudden replied solemnly.

 
          
With
the vainglorious words ringing in his ears, he stepped into the street, a
saturnine smile on his own lips.

 
          
“If
conceit counted that fella could rule the world,” he told himself. Another
thought came. “Odd that Keith’s son shouldn’t know about Injun medicine. Well,
gotta find that Frosty-pate an’ arrange another `disappointment.’ “

 
          
He
got his horse and rode to the west gate, where he found the same man in charge.
He enquired whether Holt had returned and appeared surprised at the negative
reply.

 
          
“I’ve
just left the Chief, an’ he
don’t
know of it,” he
said. “Keep a tight mouth—things went wrong yestiddy an’ the boy mighta had
somethin’ to do with it. Get me?”

 
          
“You
bet I do,” the fellow said fervently. “Thanks, mister.”

 
          
Circling
to the south, Sudden crossed the plateau where he had first met Belle Dalroy,
and descended to the edge of the Double K range. Here he built a small fire,
and from the mouth of a near-by ravine which would permit an unobserved
retreat, watched the smoke eddying into the still air.

 
          
“If
he’s around that’ll fetch him,” he argued. “If someone else shows up, I gotta
be a whole lot absent.

 
          
His
signal proved successful; at the end of half an hour a rider came pacing across
the plain, to pull up, gun in hand, as he drew near.

 
          
“Stamp
the fire out and come ahead,” Sudden called. “It’s Jim.”

 
          
Frosty
obeyed,
a grin on his face. “Knowed that a’ready nobody
else’d be idjut enough to try that trick,” he said. “S’pose it had been Steve
who happened along?”

 
          
“He’d
never have seen me,” was the reply. “I had to take the risk; got a li’l job for
yu tonight.”

 
          
“If
I thank yu, don’t believe me,” Frosty said. “What is it this time—a nice easy
murder?”

 
          
“Nothin’
that’ll soil yore lily-white reputation,” Sudden grinned. “Slant them long listeners
o’ yores this way.” He told of the unknown prisoner, and then, “Soon as it’s
dark yu’ll ride over to play poker at the Twin Diamond.”

 
          
“I
ain’t got
no
invite,” Frosty objected.

 
          
“There’s
somethin’ else yo’re lackin’, too,” Sudden said severely. “Come alive, yu
chump, this is serious. Go to Merry, borrow a couple o’ saddled hosses, an’
fetch ‘em to that place I told yu about. We’ll need two more ropes as well.
I’ll be waitin’ for yu there.”

 
          
“Seems
a lot o’ trouble to turn loose a hombre yu don’t know an’ who may deserve to be
where he is,” Frosty grumbled.

 
          
“Yo’re
missin’ the mark by about a million miles, ills friend retorted. “I don’t care
if he’s committed every crime there is; Satan wants him an’ that’s a good
argument for takin’ him away. Are yu sittin’ in?”

 
          
“Shore
I am; what d’yu take me for?” was the indignant reply.

 
          
“I’d
just hate to tell yu,” Sudden smiled, and then his expression sobered. “We
gotta keep our eyes skinned; if that devil catches us, a quick finish is the
best we could hope for.”

 
          
Frosty
nodded,
a speculative look in his eyes. “Just why are
yu doin’ this, Jim?” he asked. “Oh, I know the fella framed yu, but … What’s
back o’ yore mind?”

 
          
“If
I told yu, ol’-timer, yu’d think me loco,” the puncher said whimsically. “Mebbe
we’ll learn somethin’ tonight. Now, I gotta get busy coverin’ my tracks.”

 
          
“What
yu goin’ to do?”

 
          
“Get
drunk. Adios.”

 
          
Before
the Double K man could conjure up an adequate answer to this staggering
statement, the maker of it had swung into his saddle and shot off up the
ravine. Frosty flung up his hands.

 
          
“Ain’t
he the aggravatin’ cuss?” he asked the world. “Yu never know when he’s joshin’,
an’ yet, he gets yu. Here’s me, happy an’ comfortable, ‘cept that I’m mostly
broke, an’ when he sez `Come an’ risk yore silly neck,’ I not on’y does but I’m
glad to. He’s so damned—convincin’. I reckon he meant it all but that
drunk
notion, which was just his way o’ tellin’ me to shut
up.”

 
          
In
which conclusion Frosty was wrong, for Sudden had meant that also. He had to be
absent from Hell City and yet have evidence he had not left it. So the company
at Dink’s that evening saw him in a different guise, that of an angry,
complaining man sitting at a table alone, who swore savagelywhen invited to
take part in a game, and applied himself steadily to the bottle before him. As
the liquor took effect, his maudlin voice rose and those present gathered that
he was grumbling at the way he had been treated. The bottle emptied, he banged
on the table with it and demanded another. In the poor light, no one noticed
that most of the spirit had been spilled on the sanded floor. Dirk himself
brought the further supply, and with it, a caution; his customer had been
entlrely too outspoken. Sudden stood up, grabbed the bottle and drank, regarding
the saloon-keeper owlishly.

 
          
“No
fella in this town c’n talk down to me,” he said. “I’ll fight an’body in the
bar.” He dropped into his seat. “I’d fight the lot of ‘em if I c’d stand.”

 
          
“O’
course you would,” Dirk said placatingly. “All you want is another little
drink, an’ a nice long sleep; then you can show ‘em.”

 
          
He
winked at the men standing round and held out a glass. The puncher seized and
drained it. “Thass ri’,” he mumbled thickly.
“Gotta sleep.”
His effort to rise was a failure.
“Losh my legs.
Helluva note.”
His head fell forward in a drunken stupor.

 
          
“That
last shot has fixed him—he’ll be out for the night,” the saloon-keeper
remarked. “
I ain’t sorry neither
; when these quiet
ones do break loose they’re wuss’n the reg’lars. Help me carry him to his bed.”

 
          
Two
acted as bearers and Dirk showed the way. When they arrived at the room, the
apparently intoxicated man opened his eyes and demanded to be set down.
Staggering in, he slammed the door and slid the bolt into its slot.

 
          
“Goin’
to sleep,” he called out. “If an’body rouses me—I’ll kill ‘em.
Goo’-night.”

 
          
The
heard a tumble and a curse, followed by the creak of the pallet-bed, and
silence. One of them furtively tried the door and jumped back as a bullet
crashed through it above his head.

 
          
“Wake
me, would yu?” the drunkard’s voice snarled. Their rapidly retreating footsteps
brought a smile to the face of the man sitting on the side of the bed.

 
          
“Reckon
that’ll hold ‘em for the night,” he murmured.

 
          
Stepping
lightly on the balls of his feet, he jammed the one chair under the handle so
that the door could not be easily forced, crossed the window, and raised the
sash. With his coiled lariat round his neck, he slipped over the sill and,
hanging by his hands, let go, landing as softly as a cat. Hat pulled down over
his eyes, he slunk through the murky gloom of the town until he reached the
secret exit. Here, as he knew, there was always a guard.

 
          
Noiselessly
he felt his way through the cavern entrance and smothered a whoop when he saw
that he had only one man to deal with. The fellow was squatting on a stool in
front of a fire, his back to the intruder, a rifle propped against the wall.
Clearly he was not expecting to be disturbed. Treading with the stealth of a
stalking savage, the cowboy crept nearer. He was within a couple of yards when
fortune failed him; a dry stick—invisible in the darkness—cracked beneath his
step, bringing the guard instantly to his feet.

 
          
“Who
th
’ hell—?”

 
          
He
got no farther: Sudden’s fist, propelled with all the power of his advancing
body behind it, flashed upwards to his chin and hurled him, a senseless mass,
to the ground. Remembering that he must return that way, Sudden tied and gagged
his victim before proceeding. Then he climbed the ladder to the cave overhead,
and repeating the process twice more, found
himself
in
the open air, and looking into the muzzle of a pistol.

 
          
“Li’l
boys shouldn’t play with firearms,” he said.

 
          
“Couldn’t
afford to take chances,” Frosty explained. ”’ Sides, I was lookin’ for a fella
disguised in drink.”

 
          
“Yu
see him,” Sudden grinned. “An hour back I had to be carried to bed. Got them
horses?”

 
          
“Shore,”
Frosty replied, adding thoughtlessly, “Why didn’t yu bring yore own?”

 
          
“Nigger
is an intelligent animal but I never could
learn
him
to climb ladders; dunno why, no ambition thatway, mebbe. Also—”

 
          
“Yu
can go plumb to perdition.”

 
          
“While
he’s in Hell City they’ll figure I am, too,” Sudden continued. “Fetch them
ropes along?”

 
          
Being
assured on this point, he mounted one of the Twin Diamond ponies and led the
way eastwards. After several miles, they crossed the trail to Dugout, and
turned again in the direction of the bandit town, traversing the valley which
it overlooked. The night was dark and chilly, and the task of forcing a path
through the undergrowth proved both laborious and painful.

 
          
“Every
damn bush seems to ‘a’ got its claws out,” Frosty complained. “C’mon, yu chunk
o’ crowbait, yore hide is thicker’n mine.” He tugged at the lead-rope of the
third horse. “Wish we had some o’ that whisky yu wasted.”

 
          
Sudden
chuckled; he had told of the ruse employed to cover his absence. “Yo’re readin’
my thoughts,” he said. “We oughts
be
gettin’ near
now.”

 
          
They
were: presently the black bulk of the cliff which was Hell City loomed up on
their left. They went slowly on, the horses stumbling over the stony debris
from the weather-worn height above. Sudden’s eyes were
busy,
soon they caught a gleaming white mark on a tree-trunk where a sliver of bark
had been sliced away. He pointed to it.

 
          
“There’s
my blaze; this must be the place.”

 
          
They
got down, secured the animals, and Frosty’s gaze travelled over the apparently
perpendicular wall; about halfway up he could discern a spot of diffused light.
He turned to his companion, who was winding the extra ropes round his body.

 
          
“If
yo’re expectin’ to climb up there yu’ll need four hands, the same number o’
feet, an’ hooks on yore eyebrows,” he said. “Give it up, Jim; it ain’t
possible, an’ mebbe the hombre would ruther stay where he is anyways.”

 
          
“Likely,
but I’m goin’ up an’ he’s comin’ down,” Sudden said, and with a grim smile, “If
yu hear a yelp, stand from under—I shall be movin’ fast.”

 
          
With
the jest on his lips, he began the ascent. The stars were brighter and afforded
a little more light, enabling him to find hand and toe-holds marked down on his
previous inspection. Flattened against the rock he worked his way upward almost
inch by inch, while his companion watched and muttered things which might have
passed for prayers to a careless listener. At the end of ten minutes, the
climber had accomplished as many feet, and paused to rest. It was going to be
even more difficult than he had looked for. An idea came.