Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 10 - Sudden Plays a Hand(1950) (25 page)

 
          
“Lindy
did a lot,’ was all she found to say.

 
          
“Skittles!’
Nick smiled. “Nobody thinks more o’ Lindy than I
do, but I’m wise to her limitations.’ The bottle attracted his notice. “Must
‘a’ been expectin’ me.’

 
          
“Mister
Cullin called,’ she explained. “He wanted to see the place.’

 
          
Drait’s
expression was wooden. “Yeah, he allus fancied this range,’ he returned, and
began to roll a cigarette.

 
          
She
found herself studying him anew. He was not so carefully attired as the Big C
man, nor so obviously anxious to impress, yet she was conscious that he had
something the other lacked, that mysterious “quality’ the Negress had spoken of
perhaps; she did not know. She invited him to stay and eat. Cullin would have
seized the opportunity for a compliment; Nick did the opposite.

 
          
“Shore
is a temptation to sample Lindy’s grub again.
Not that the
boys ain’t doin’ pretty well—considerin’.’

 
          
“I
feel mean about taking her away.’

 
          
“Don’t
you,
it’s
doin’ us all good; we didn’t know how well
off we were.’

 
          
When
Lindy brought in the meal she scrutinised the nester closely. “Massa Nick, yoh
ain’t lookin’ too peart,’ she announced. “I sho’ hab a fohbodin’ dem hellions
ain’t feedin’ yoh right.’

 
          
‘Yo’re
all wrong, woman,’ Nick teased. “It’s just grief over the absence o’ my
housekeeper.’ He shot a mischievous smile at Mary as he spoke, and, without
thinking, she returned it.

 
          
There
was little conversation until the meal was over, and then he asked, “Started
counting yore cattle yet?’

 
          
“I’m
going to wait for the
Fall
roundup,’ she replied, and
gave her reasons. “It was Sturm’s suggestion, and Mister Cullin agreed.’

 
          
“Sturm
was his man,’ Nick said. “Well,
yo’re the doc
.’

 
          
“Isn’t
it possible you are mistaken about Cullin? He helped you, and now me.’

 
          
“Must
be a change of heart; his reputation is for on’y helpin’ hisself.’

 
          
He
had picked up his hat, and she saw the sinister holes in the front and back of
the crown. The reminder brought a look of concern which he read.

 
          
“Now
what fool had to tell you?’ he asked. “Cullin?’ “No, I already knew. He seemed
very upset about it.’

 
          
‘Disappointed’
would be a better word,’ Nick said harshly. “An’ how did you feel?’

 
          
Her
steady eyes met his squarely. “I was very glad you escaped injury.’

 
          
His
grin was back. “That makes it a’most worthwhile. Now, remember, any time yo’re
in a difficulty, send Yorky, an’ we’ll come a-runnin’.’

 
          
He
strode from the room, stepped into his saddle, and with a wave of the
perforated hat, spurred across the plain.

 
          
It
was a week later that Gregory Cullin halted his horse outside the hotel at
Rideout, and having made an enquiry, mounted to an upstairs room. He entered
without knocking, and the occupant took his hand away from a gun-butt only when
he recognised the visitor. He was a middle-aged man, of medium build, with a
thin, sour face and restless eyes. He wore two guns, the holsters tied down.
A bottle and two glasses before him.

 
          
“Well,
Lukor, how’s the world treatin’ you?’ the rancher said. Too damn seldom,’ was
the growled reply. He pointed to a chair and the whisky. “Help yoreself.’

 
          
“I
will, but I’m really here to help you.’

 
          
This
attempt at humour produced only a contortion of the close-shut, almost
bloodless lips which was more like a sneer nhan a smile. “Can that kind o’
chatter,’ their owner said. “I never could figure you as a charitable
institootion.’

 
          
“But
I pay well,’ the rancher retorted. He poured out some spirit, and as the other
grabbed the bottle and half-filled his own glass, added, “I’d go light on that
stuff.’

 
          
“Bah!
It never does nothin’ to me, I was weaned on it. They carried me to bed las’
night, an’ look.’ He held the tumbler high; the liquid in it might have been
solid. He gulped the greater part. “Well, what’s to do?’

 
          
“There’s
a man in my way,’ Cullin told him.

 
          
“On’y
one?’ the gunman jeered. “You used to be fairly handy with a six-shooter
yoreself.’

 
          
“There’s
also a reason why I mustn’t appear in this.’
“Shore.’
The tone turned the word into an insult.

 
          
The
cattleman’s patience was at an end; he did not relish.
being
called a coward. He stood up. “I gather you don’t want five hundred bucks,’ he
said coldly.

 
          
The
ruffian knew his man, and was not to be bluffed.

 
          
‘Yo’re
damn right, I don’t; a thousand’s the lowest—take it or leave it.’

 
          
Cullin
hesitated, but only as a matter of form; he was prepared to pay double the
amount, for success.

 
          
“I’m
takin’ it, Lukor,’ he said. “You come to Midway an’ hang about, givin’ any
excuse you like, waitin’ yore chance. Don’t use yore own name—it might be
known.’

 
          
The
other revealed his tobacco-stained teeth in a wolfish grin. “I reckon. Figure
I’m a greenhorn, huh?’

 
          
“The
cleverest can make mistakes,’ Cullin replied. ‘Fella’s name is Nicholas Drait,
an’ he’s about my size, mebbe a shade bigger; a nester an’ a cattle-thief. You
don’t like nesters, do you?’

 
          
“They ain’t fit to live,’ Lukor said, and spat in disgust. “
Leave
it to me. I’ll want fifty for expenses, an’ it ain’t an advance, mind.’

 
          
The
rancher peeled off some bills from his roll.
“Needn’t to rush
things.
It’s gotta look natural, an’ don’t let him get his hands on
you—he’d smear you on the wall.’

 
          
“If
he got past a dozen slugs, mebbe,’ the gunmen said scornfully. “Hell, it’s good
as done; you can wipe him off’n yore worry list right now.’

 
          
Cullin left Rideout immediately, unaware of a pair of youthful but
sharp eyes watching from the angle of a building across the street.
Yorky, having by chance seen Cullin pass through Midway heading east, conceived
a desire to discover his destination. When he vanished into the hotel, Yorky
followed, got into conversation with the clerk, a youth of his own age, and
learned that business was bad—they had only one guest.

 
          
“Calls
hisself “Fish,” drinks like one, an’ has all the earmarks of a gunslinger,’ the
clerk said.

 
          
Yorky
returned to his hiding-place, saw Cullin come out, but still waited. Presently
his patience was rewarded; Lukor emerged and slouched towards the nearest
saloon. The watcher noted the pair of revolvers, the deeply-bronzed right hand,
the
ever-alert glances.

 
          
Satisfied
he could glean no more he started for home, arriving there as dusk was falling.
Outside the house, he met Mary.

 
          
“Why,
Yorky, we were becoming anxious,’ she cried. “Where on earth have you been?’

 
          
Naturally
he did not want to tell, and the only plausible pretext he could think of would
put the laugh on
himself
, but it had to be.

 
          
“All
over it—the earth, I mean, ma’am,’ he replied dolefully. “Guessed I could find
a shorter way back an’ got proper lost. Wandered about for hours—got mighty
near Noo York, I reckon—an’ there I was in Midway again. So I
come
th’ old road.’

 
          
At
the bunkhouse Sturm gave him a sour look. “Where the blazes you bin all day?’
he enquired. “The Boss’ll want an explanation.’

 
          
“She’s
had one,’ Yorky said, and closed up like a clam.

 
          
His
problem now was to get his news to Sudden; he could not ask for time to ride to
the Valley. His luck was in—the puncher arrived during the next afternoon.

 
          
“Nick’s
so full o’ the change yu’ve made that I just had to come,’ was his excuse to
the lady of the house, whereupon she smiled delightedly and invited him in.

 
          
His
eyes travelled about the room. “Shore is great,’ was his verdict. “Thought Nick
might be romancin’ but that ain’t so, an’ with some flower-beds in front o’ the
veranda….’

 
          
“But
what a splendid idea,’ she cried. “Thank you.’

 
          
He
shook his head. “It was Nick’s notion; I’m on’y passin’ it on.’

 
          
“Then
you must pass on my gratitude,’ she replied warmly.

 
          
He
enquired about Yorky, and listened to the tale of his misadventure with a
gravity he was far from feeling.

 
          
“He’s
new to these parts; might happen to anybody,’ he said. As he rode away in
search of the boy he spoke to the black: “Nig, a fella who can’t lie for a
friend, ain’t much; I must remember to wise up Nick ‘bout
them
flower-beds. Wonder what that li’l devil was doin’?’

 
          
He
found the “li’l devil’ forcing steers from a thorny thicket, and exuding
moisture and expletives with equal frequency. He was nearing the end of his
vocabulary when a low, amused voice remarked: “Mind yu don’t get lost in
there.’

 
          
Yorky
smote an obstreperous steer on the flank with the end of his rope, and
came
piling out of the bush.

 
          
‘Yo’re
th
’ very fella I wanted to see,’ he cried, and then,
as the significance of his friend’s words dawned, “You didn’t think I lost
myself, did you, Jim?’

 
          
“Well,
no, I figured mebbe there was a reason,’ Sudden admitted.

 
          
“Shore is,’ the boy said, and told his discovery.

 
          
“Yu
done fine,’ Sudden complimented. “I’m glad I fetched yu along.’

 
          
Praise
from this quarter was priceless to Yorky, and having watched the black race out
of sight, he murmured, “
You
ol pirut,’ and returned to
his labours quite happily.

 
          
On
reaching the Valley, Sudden sought out the nester and warned him about the
flower-beds. Drait regarded him curiously.

 
          
“I’m
obliged, Jim; oughta thought o’ that myself.’

 
          
It
was not until several days later that Nick announced his intention of going to
Midway; stores had to be purchased. “I was aimin’ to visit town my own self,’
Sudden said.

 
          
“Mebbe
I can do yore errand?’

 
          
“I
guess not; some things a fella’s gotta do for hisself an’ gettin’ a hair-cut is
one. But gimme a list an’ I’ll order yore goods.’