Sudden--Troubleshooter (A Sudden Western) #5 (15 page)

Green smiled. He knew the
type well. This old desert-rat would roam the mountains until the
day he died, seeking the precious yellow metal. Green had seen
many
like him – he recalled his adventures
in Deadwood,
when thousands upon thousands
of prospectors had invaded the Black Hills looking for riches. He
remembered the old man who had told him that: ‘It ain’t the gold,
boy, it’s findin’ it that’s important. Yu can’t know what it’s
like, findin’ a vein, stickin’ yore pick into a solid lump o’ money
…’ Shorty was ill: the gold-sickness was one of which very few men
were cured. But he knew that the old timer would no more change his
existence than he would fly.

Shorty was talking on, about the wild days
in Arizona, when it had been a haven for every outlaw north of the
border.

‘They all come through
these parts,’ he told Sudden. ‘Billy the Kid, the James boys.
They’d head for Mexico until the Law gave up on lookin’ for them,
an’ then they’d head back an’ start up ag’in.’ Shorty shook his
head. ‘They was great times,’ he said.

They talked into the night,
with Sudden listening with real interest to the tales the old man –
a born storyteller – recounted. Hangings, stampedes, gunfights,
gold rushes – Shorty had seen them all.

‘They ever have any trouble
in these parts afore recent times?’ he asked the old
man.

Shorty shook his head.
‘Naw,’ he said. ‘Ain’t been any real trouble in Yavapai valley
since the Jefferson boys was caught, up in the Mesquites, an’ shot
it out with a posse.’

Green looked his interest,
and the old man continued. ‘It was back in sixty-five – no,
sixty-six,’ he said. ‘Them Jefferson boys was skallyhootin’ around
robbin’ stagecoaches an’ the odd bank. Law got word they was down
in the Mesquites an’ treed the whole passel o’ them. Killed ’em all
but two, an’ they hanged Jack Jefferson an’ his kid brother after
they was took back to Yuma an’ tried.’

‘But the troubles at Saber
on’y started recently?’ the puncher prompted.

‘Fur as I know,’ Shorty
said. ‘I ain’t stuck my nose in any further’n necessary. I stayed
up here an’ looked after the cows. Now an’ again I’d ask Dancy or
Mado what was happenin’, but they’d tell me to mind my own
concerns,
an’ I reckoned to do just
that.’

They sat a while in
silence, and then the old man rose. ‘I’m right tired from all this
reminiscin’,’ he told the younger man. ‘If it’s all the same to yu,
I’m turnin’ in.

‘An’ Jim’ he turned to face
Sudden squarely. ‘I’m thankin’ yu for settin’ me straight. I’m
quittin’ this place in the mornin’, shore.’

Green looked the old man
straight in the eyes. ‘That’s a wise move, Shorty,’ he said. ‘I got
an idea yu could be my ace-in-the-hole. I reckon yu better come
back to the Harris place with me, an’ stay out o’ sight until the
right time. That sound sensible to yu?’

‘ ’
Bout the most sensible
thing I’ve heard in a while,’ the old man grinned. ‘I’m obliged,
Jim. Yu can rely on me.’

The puncher smiled. ‘Knew
it all along,’ he told Shorty.

Presently, the old man’s
snores reverberated in the tiny cabin. Sudden still sat, his feet
on the table, his eyes fixed unseeingly upon the dull glow of the
stove. The frown of concentration was deep between his eyebrows,
and his thoughts were of treachery and greed.

‘GUNNISON
! GOD damn his black heart!’
The words were roared rather than spoken, and the man who uttered
them was Jacob Harris. ‘The thievin’ polecat hired that gunman as
shore as Gawd made little apples!’

Tom Appleby, who had brought the news of the
killing of Reb Johnstone and Stan Newley to the homesteader, opened
his mouth to say something. Before he could speak, the old man
continued in the same vein:

‘We know he hired that dawg
Cameron! Yu know it, an’ I know it, Tom, an’ we’re helpless, we
can’t touch him. Two good men under the ground, an’ the killer
walks around Yavapai as free as air! I’ve got a good
mind’

‘If yo’re goin’ to say what
I think yo’re goin’ to say, yo’re about to prove yu ain’t,’ snapped
Appleby. ‘Jake, I’m as sorry as yu are about those men, but goin’
to Yavapai an’ startin’ a battle in town ain’t goin’ to bring them
back!’

The old man banged his fist on the table,
setting crockery to rattling on the shelves.

‘I ain’t goin’ to set here
an’ do nothin’!’ he bellowed. ‘Yes – yu – are!’ gritted Appleby.
‘Jake, I’m warnin’ yu – don’t come into town, an’ don’t even think
about it! If what yu say is true – an’ I, for one, ain’t shore
Gunnison is behind this Cameron feller – then yu’ll be playin’ into
his hands by tryin’ to take on Cameron. He’s a cold killer, Jake.
Yu wouldn’t stand a chance an’ yu know it!’

‘Tom, I guess yo’re right,’
admitted Harris wearily. ‘Tho’ it goes ag’in my nature to say it. I
want to thank yu for ridin’ up an’ lettin’ me know.’

‘Tom, ye’ll let us send
someone in for the bodies?’ put in Alex Taylor.

Appleby pursed his lips, as
though weighing the advisability of Taylor’s suggestion. Then he
nodded. ‘Yu send in one o’ yore hired men,’ he told them. ‘Mebbe yu
can spare yore Swede, Terry?’

Kitson nodded. ‘Shore,’ he
agreed.

The three homesteaders were
still stunned by the news that the Marshal had brought. Subsequent
to Green’s visit, Taylor had arrived at the JH, and Kitson had been
sent for. They had watched on tenterhooks for the possible return
of the gunman, and, as the night progressed, had become more and
more perturbed about the two men who had gone into town. Appleby’s
arrival had sent them to their posts by the windows, guns ready;
Cameron would not find them again unprepared, they had vowed. The
single horseman had been covered every inch of the way until he had
been identified as the town Marshal. Appleby had been brief and
blunt. He told them of the events in Yavapai, and of the fact that
there were plenty of witnesses to the gunman’s claim that he had
killed in self-defense.

Now Kitson, Taylor, and Jake Harris sat
glumly at the big table, their faces drawn.

Appleby, uncomfortable in the silence, broke
it with a question:

‘What will happen to
Johnstone an’ Newley’s places?’

Jake Harris looked at him glumly,
uncomprehending.

‘Yu aim to file on the
land, Jake?’ Appleby persisted.

Harris shrugged. ‘T’ain’t
likely,’ he told the lawman. ‘I can’t use the extra acres without
help.’

Appleby looked around.
‘That reminds me,’ he said lightly. ‘I ain’t seen yore man Green.
Where’s he at?’

‘He’s out on the range,’
Harris said quickly. Alex Taylor glanced at him, but kept his
counsel, although Appleby did not miss the significant puzzlement
in the Scot’s eyes. ‘He oughta be back afore long,’ Harris told the
Marshal, and Appleby nodded, more or less satisfied by
this.

‘Jake, I wish I could say
how sorry I am,’ he began.

Harris waved the words
aside. ‘Yu done all yu could, an’ I’m thankin’ yu, Tom. I just
plain don’t know what to do. We ain’t equipped for this kind o’
fightin’. If it was out in the open we’d fight – an’ gladly! But
seem’ yore neighbors cut down, knowin’ they had no more chance than
if they’d been bushwhacked … it takes the heart out of a man.’ He
rose heavily; the others watched him gloomily. ‘Yu’ll stay an’ take
a bite?’ he asked the Marshal.

‘Thank yu, Jake, I’ll do
that.’

‘Susie’ll fix yu somethin’.
She’s tendin’ the boy.’

Appleby looked his
interest. ‘How’s he doin’?’

‘He’ll be fine. Soon be
able to hobble around, I guess. Tom, yu go on into the kitchen,
tell Susie to give yu some cawfee.’

He walked over to the window and looked out
blindly, chewing on his old pipe, while Kitson and Taylor stirred
uncomfortably. Appleby nodded to them and went through into the
kitchen, where Susan was busily stirring something which smelled
deliciously in an iron pot. She turned at his footsteps, her pretty
face flushed from the heat.

‘Oh, Tom,’ she exclaimed.
‘You’ll be in need of some “cawfee”, I should think. Could you
manage a piece of fresh-baked pie with it?’ A dimple showed in her
cheek as she smiled.

‘Reckon I could force one
down,’ he told her.

‘Coming up,’ she said. ‘Sit
down at the table.’

He watched her as she
bustled about the little kitchen, and his eyes travelled over her,
weighing the supple slimness of her waist, her rounded form, the
youthful spring of her walk. Conscious of his scrutiny Susan turned
to face him, a slow flush mounting beneath her skin. To conceal her
embarrassment she asked him whether the man, Cameron, was still in
Yavapai.

‘Shore is,’ Appleby told
her. ‘I can’t move him on without a reason.’

‘I’d move him on if I were
Marshal!’ she exclaimed vehemently.

‘Yu got to admit, yore
viewpoint’d be a mite biased,’ he told her in a reasonable tone.
‘Susie, yu know my job is keepin’ the peace. That means for
everybody, not just for one bunch o’ folks yu happen to prefer. If
it was just me, I’d do her – just to make yu smile.’

‘Why Tom Appleby,’ she said
mockingly, ‘I do believe you’re flirting with me!’

‘Might be at that,’ he
said, attacking the apple-pie she set before him with gusto. When
he had finished he leaned back with a sigh and reached for the
makin’s. ‘Girl,’ he told her, ‘yo’re a miracle in these
parts.’

‘Tom, you’re staring at me
in such a funny way …’ she said.

‘Am now yu mention it,’ he
said unperturbed.

‘Well, stop, it makes me
uncomfortable,’ she ordered.

‘Don’t aim to stop,’ he
said, rising to his feet and laying the unfinished cigarette
alongside his plate. ‘Susie, I wanted yu the first time I seen yu.
Won’t yu think about bein’ my wife?’

Susan stopped in the middle
of the room, her mouth a wide ‘o’ of astonishment. ‘Why, Tom … oh,
now stop that teasing!’ she said, thinking he was
joking.

He crossed the kitchen and
stood before her, and put his hands upon her shoulders. ‘I mean
every word I say, girl.’ His voice was husky. ‘I’m not rich, but
one o’ these days …’ He hesitated for a moment, then
went on, ‘Well,
I’d see yu
never wanted. Clothes, a big house, travel – all yu’d ever want,
girl! Won’t yu think about it?’

Susan was nonplussed by his
directness, and as she studied him from beneath lowered eyelashes
she admitted to herself that probably many women would find Tom
Appleby an attractive man. And yet …

‘I’m very fond of you, Tom
…’ she began.

‘But yu don’t love me.’ He
snapped his fingers. ‘That for love! Girl, I’d make yu care for
me.’

Despite herself Susan found
her pulses pounding. But behind the Marshal’s eyes she divined for
the first time the egotism and the ambition that lurked there, and
they repelled her. His hands clamped upon her shoulders as she
tried to move back. Unconsciously she began to struggle against his
grip, but he was relentless. His arms encircled her, and powerless
in his grasp she found herself being lifted towards him. His head
bent, his thin lips pressed towards her own and a small shrill note
of panic sounded in the girl’s mind. Suddenly his grip relaxed and
she collapsed, half swooning, in a chair as a familiar voice
rasped, ‘Stand back an’ stand still, Marshal!’

Half turning, Susan saw the
tall, saturnine James Green, who had come into the room unnoticed
by either of them. A pistol pointed unwaveringly at Appleby, and
the puncher’s eyes were like shifting ice under a
glacier.

‘Looks like I got back at
just the right time,’ he gritted. ‘Yu all right, ma’am?’

‘Yes, Jim … it’s all right.
Just … a … misunderstanding.’

Appleby faced Sudden’s
drawn gun unafraid; his face was dark with anger.

‘Green, yo’re interferin’
in somethin’ that don’t concern yu!’ he warned the puncher. ‘I just
asked Susan to be my wife.’

‘Looked to me like she
turned yu down,’ was the cold reply.

‘Don’t push yore luck too
far, Green,’ said Appleby, an edge on his voice.

Sudden grinned icily. ‘How
far would yu say too far was, Marshal?’ Turning to the girl, who
had now recovered from her ordeal and was watching the two men
uncertainly, he added, ‘Say the word, ma’am, an’ I’ll toss this
coyote out on his ear.’

Susan Harris laid a hand on his forearm.

‘No, Jim. It was a …
misunderstanding. Truly. I think Tom made a mistake.’

‘He better not make it
again,’ rapped the puncher.

Appleby made a good effort
of pretending not to hear Sudden’s words. He turned to Susan
Harris. ‘I won’t give up, Susan. I meant every word I
said.’

‘I hope that is not true,’
she said gravely, and turned away.

‘I meant every word said,
too, Marshal,’ interrupted Green, as the lawman took a step
forward. ‘Yu better have a damn good reason for showin’ yore face
in these parts again!’

The Marshal wheeled about,
a snarl disfiguring his handsome face. ‘I won’t forget this!’ he
threatened. Gone was the friendly smile; in its place was the
expression of a killer wolf.