Snake Vengeance

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Snake Vengeance Page 2

by Philip Harbottle


  ‘Naturally,’ he said, ‘I cannot stay here, kind though you have been. Since I’ve been cheated out of everything, there’s no point in my staying in the district.’

  Richard King lighted his pipe slowly. His daughter studied Larry’s regular features, frowning slightly to herself.

  ‘You mean you’re running out?’ she asked bluntly.

  ‘I’ve no choice, Miss King. I’m no lawyer. I can’t fight Makin’s legal knowledge.’

  ‘Around here one doesn’t need legal knowledge to get one’s rights — or anyways a man doesn’t,’ the girl said, and there was a sting of contempt in her emphasis. ‘Nobody would gyp me out of a prosperous ranch and a gold mine without a mighty big struggle.’

  ‘I’m not the kind of man who can take the law into his own hands,’ Larry said, looking moodily into the fire. ‘In England, we just don’t behave like that.’

  ‘I don’t believe it,’ King declared. ‘It’s just a matter of not being sure of your surroundings. Stick around for a few weeks, get acquainted with the habits of the men who run Buzzard’s Bend — then make up your mind.’

  ‘It’s made up,’ Larry responded, shrugging. ‘If we were in London, I could hand the matter over to the police to deal with. Out here there’s no real equivalent.’ He glanced across at the big rancher. ‘I’m discounting the mayor and sheriff, since you’ve told me they’re in cahoots with Makin.’

  ‘You’ve got two fists and a fair-sized frame!’ Val exclaimed. ‘What more do you want?’

  ‘I simply don’t have the experience to use them. In London we just aren’t used to fighting amongst ourselves, which you seem to take for granted here in the West.’

  ‘Around here,’ King said, ‘a yellow streak means gold, son. That’s what I’m going to go right on thinking. As for you — well, I think you should stay and get acquainted with the way we do things. What do you do for a living?’

  Larry smiled rather ashamedly. ‘I’m a professional magician. As an amateur I did quite well in charity concerts, so I went on the halls as a professional afterwards. Nothing big. Card-tricks, water to wine, mysteriously dissolving knots in ropes, and so on.’

  ‘Sounds mighty peaceful,’Val remarked drily.

  ‘It is. Once you’ve mastered them, the tricks work themselves. When I heard of this inheritance I packed up everything, gathered together what money I possessed, and came right away. Now all I can do is go back.’

  The awkward silence was broken by a thunderous pounding on the outer door of the ranch. Val gave her father a significant glance.

  ‘That’ll be Cliff,’ she said, and rose to her feet.

  ‘Maybe I’d better go, too?’ Larry rose to his feet. ‘He won’t be exactly pleased when he sees me here.’

  ‘Then he can be the other thing,’ Val answered briefly. ‘Sit down, Mr Ashfield!’

  At that moment the living room door opened and Cliff Makin appeared. Since Larry had seen him he had dressed in his best attire — a black suit with a neat tie, revealing an expanse of shirt front. His wavy black hair was gleaming with oil and a razor had obviously travelled closely over his heavy features.

  With hardly a glance around him he strode over to Val, seized her, and delivered a kiss. Larry saw her slim hands clench momentarily at her sides.

  ‘Hello, Cliff,’ she said indifferently.

  ‘What kind of welcome is that?’ he demanded. ‘One would think I … ’

  He stopped dead, catching sight of Larry in the dim light.

  ‘Cliff Makin — Larry Ashfield,’ King said quietly.

  ‘I know who he is,’ Makin snapped. ‘I threw this kid outa my office this afternoon. What the hell are you doing here?’ he demanded, striding over to where Larry now stood by the fireplace.

  ‘I’m a guest,’ Larry explained, shrugging.

  ‘Well, I don’t like it — and what’s more I won’t have it. Get him out of here, King, and pronto.’

  King hesitated, his powerful mouth setting. Val gave a desperate glance from one man to the other.

  ‘Don’t forget I’ve as much say in what goes on on this spread as you have,’ Makin sneered. ‘I don’t like the smell of this critter from England.’

  ‘Cliff, for heaven’s sake!’ Val cried. ‘Mr Ashfield has nowhere else to go and — ’

  ‘That’s rubbish, Val!’ Makin swung round on her. ‘There are plenty of places where a man can stop in Buzzard’s Bend without coming here. You don’t suppose I’m letting him stop here with you around, do you? You’re young and mighty attractive otherwise I wouldn’t be bothering with you myself. I’m assuming that this British kid has some manhood in him, so I’m not taking chances — ’

  Makin stopped, his cheek smarting from the vicious blow Val gave it with the flat of her hand.

  ‘You get out of here, Cliff, with your low-down suggestions,’ she said briefly, her angry eyes pinning him.

  ‘OK, mebbe I did speak a bit out of line,’ Makin admitted. ‘But this guy gets in my hair. Doesn’t even act like a man even though he’s shaped like one. Anyways, I’m expecting you to throw him out, if you know what’s good for you. Now, Val, how’s about riding into town as usual? I’ve a table for us at the Lucky Dollar.’

  ‘You can keep it.’ Val set her mouth. ‘I’m not coming.’

  ‘Is that because you like it better at home now you’ve got company?’

  ‘You’d better go, Cliff,’ King said coldly.

  Makin hesitated and then grinned sourly. ‘Better take it easy when you start ordering me about, King. May not work out the way you think. I’ll go, since I’m wasting my time tonight. But I’ll be back tomorrow, Val, to keep my usual evening date. And when I come I’ll expect to find this louse half-way back to England.’

  He snatched up his hat, went out, and slammed the door. There was silence for a moment, then Val relaxed a little and sank back on her chair.

  ‘And that is the — the pig I have to marry!’ she whispered at length.

  ‘Take it easy, Val,’ her father murmured, with an uneasy glance towards Larry.

  ‘Why should I?’ Val cried, springing up again. ‘Every other person in town knows why I’m going to marry Cliff. What is there to stop Mr Ashfield knowing?’

  ‘I don’t want to pry into your business,’ Larry said uncomfortably.

  Val turned to him. ‘I think you ought to know, Mr Ashfield, in case you have a wrong impression. I’m going to marry Cliff Makin to pay off a gambling debt!’

  ‘Val, for heaven’s sake … ’ Her father raised his hands in protest.

  ‘No Dad, I’m the pawn in the whole thing, so I’m entitled to say what I think. You ought to know, Mr Ashfield,’ she continued, returning her attention to him, ‘that my father recently gambled away this ranch and all it contains in a poker game. He was playing with Makin, of course. That means Makin owns this place. We go on living in it and carry on our cattle business only through his generosity! That’s what makes me so — so sick ! If I marry him he will legally cancel the debt and we can go on with our business — or at any rate Father can, since I suppose Cliff would keep me. But if I refuse we lose everything. We’re only going on now because Cliff fully believes I’ll become engaged to him before long. We can’t sell out and go elsewhere. Cliff Makin has us — and me in particular — hog-tied.’

  ‘I’d made a good cattle deal,’ King explained bitterly, staring into the fire. ‘I’d plenty of money with me — but too much celebration liquor under my belt, I guess. At that time I didn’t know the kind of rat Makin really is. He’d paid attention to Val, so I thought he was a friend. Then I got into that poker game. I was so dad-blamed fuddled with whiskey I couldn’t even think straight … ’

  ‘And there’s nobody to whom you can appeal?’ Larry asked, after a pause.

  ‘Against a gambling debt contracted before dozens of witnesses?’ King asked. ‘No! Makin has the deeds and he’s performed the legal transfer of the property to himself. Even if there were a loophole, the s
heriff wouldn’t do anything. He — and the mayor too — are in cahoots with Makin. I tell you, son, these days the whole of Buzzard’s Bend is rotten from the dust up.’

  ‘So your daughter has to take the blame?’ Larry asked quietly. He sat down again and reflected. Val and her father looked at Larry as though they expected some kind of miracle to happen.

  ‘Killing him is out,’ King said at last. ‘I wouldn’t think twice, but the rap’s too tough if I should be caught. With a fixed sheriff and mayor I wouldn’t stand a chance.’

  Val gave her father a reproachful glance. It was clear she didn’t approve of plain murder under any circumstances.

  ‘There may be another way — one that doesn’t involve getting tough with guns,’ Larry said, thinking. ‘We could win this ranch back from him — once again by gambling. He’d be forced to hand over the deeds, if they were the stake played for. The witnesses round the table would see to that. Even if the sheriff and mayor are crooked, I’m sure the rank and file are not.’

  ‘No — most of them are square shooters,’ King admitted. ‘But I wouldn’t like to take the risk of gambling like that again. If I lost I’d be worse off than ever.’

  ‘I was thinking of myself,’ Larry said.

  ‘Then I hope you can play poker well, son,’ King said dubiously. ‘Makin is one of the best players in town — even playing straight. When he does it the crooked way he’s dynamite.’

  Larry smiled faintly. ‘I know the rudiments of poker enough to get by. My strong suit is magic. Hand me a pack of cards,’ he requested.

  ‘It’s a ‘deck’ out here.’ Val smiled, and went over to the bureau. Returning, she put a practically new pack into Larry’s hand.

  He shuffled them casually for a moment, then the cards began to do things which made Val and her father watch in fascination. They leapt from hand to hand in a mist, divided and sub-divided, threw out all their aces at will, transferred their kings to the bottom and the queens to the top, until with a final flourish Harry fanned the cards down on the table top and every one was in its correct suit from ace to king.

  ‘Why — that’s marvellous!’ Val cried, clapping her hands.

  ‘Useful anyway,’ Larry responded with a modest grin. ‘I can do it with any pack — I mean deck; and since I’ll be given a new one when I play poker it shouldn’t make much difference. If I win I can get everything back that you have lost. If I fail … ’ He debated this for a moment. ‘Well, if I fail it can’t make matters worse for you: only for me. Yes, I’ll take the chance.’

  ‘And the boy says he hasn’t got courage!’ King exclaimed, with a glance at his daughter.

  ‘This isn’t the sort of courage I want,’ Larry sighed. ‘I want the kind of courage you Westerners have, where I can stand up to a man and hand him back everything he gives out. In the meantime I’ll have to try other avenues. Do you suppose I have time to go to the Lucky Dollar tonight and start a game?’

  ‘Sure,’ King said. ‘Things don’t warm up in that place until around ten-thirty, and it’s only quarter before nine as yet. I’ll come with you.’

  ‘So will I,’ Val said eagerly, and fled from the room to change for the outdoors.

  ‘I’ll get the buckboard ready,’ her father said, and followed her.

  Larry half-smiled to himself and picked up the cards slowly. Each in their suits, he put them back into their carton …

  *

  The Lucky Dollar was at the height of its evening’s business when the trio entered through the batwings. Larry coughed for a moment at the foul air that smote him after the sweetness of the night; then he recovered himself and looked about him.

  Curious glances were cast at him by the men and women at the tables and around the bar. A young, pale-faced man in a ‘civilized’ grey suit and soft hat was something new in this den of cowpunchers, cattlemen, half-castes, and passers-through. Since Richard King was a frequent visitor, scant attention was paid to him, but it did seem curious for his daughter to be present, looking highly delectable in her silk shirt, fancy-edged mackinaw, and black riding-pants.

  ‘You drink?’ King asked Larry suddenly.

  ‘I can take whiskey, even though I’m not keen,’ Larry responded. ‘I realize I can hardly walk into a place like this and order milk.’

  ‘Then we’ll go to the bar,’ King decided, and led the way to it.

  The stares followed them. The place buzzed with conversation, the rattle of chips and faro wheels, the clink of glasses and bottles, and the tin-panny rattle of a ‘three-piece orchestra’ on a distant rostrum. The whole place was garish, from the gilded back-bar mirrors to the ornate pillars supporting the wooden roof, from which hung clusters of gleaming oil-lamps.

  At the bar, King gave the order, Val taking a soft drink. Then they stood and looked about them. One or two of the punchers nearby winked at one another and left it at that. Larry, leaning against the counter, suddenly came alert as he caught sight of Cliff Makin heading towards him, his twin guns showing at his hips as his black coat fell apart.

  ‘Well!’ he exclaimed, coming level. ‘So you decided to keep your date after all, Val? And brought your pop and the lodger with you, huh? Frankly, I don’t appreciate the passengers!’

  ‘I’m not keeping a date with you,’ Val responded levelly. ‘It’s Mr Ashfield who’s doing that.’

  ‘Huh?’ The lawyer looked at Larry blankly. ‘What the tarnation would a little runt like you want with me ? Or don’t you know when you’ve had enough?’

  Larry took a grip of himself and straightened.

  ‘You call yourself a good poker-player, Mr Makin. Are you prepared to play a game with me?’

  Makin’s dark eyes opened wide; then suddenly he exploded with merriment. He laughed so hard the gold in his back teeth showed transiently.

  ‘Sweet hell, that’s a good one!’ he gasped at last. ‘Will I play poker with you! Why, you cheap out-town tenderfoot, I’ll wipe the floor with you before you know what you’re doing. Run on home, sonny, and don’t waste your time.’

  Makin turned away in contempt, then stopped as Larry’s quiet voice reached him.

  ‘I’m serious, Mr Makin. I’m challenging you to play for the Bar-6 ranch.’

  Makin turned back again, genuinely baffled.

  ‘Let’s get this straight,’ he said. ‘Are you actually telling me that you want to try and win the Bar-6 back from me?’

  ‘That’s it.’

  ‘You’re loco,’ Makin decided; then his eyes narrowed suspiciously. ‘Why this crazy notion to try and get the Bar-6? So you can give it to Val here? That it?’

  ‘Never mind the reasons,’ King snapped. ‘You’re being made a straightforward challenge, as all the rest of the folks in this room can verify. You won the Bar-6 from me; but that doesn’t say it can’t be won back again.’

  ‘Unless I don’t choose to let it be the stake,’ Makin responded, thinking. ‘And what about your stake, Ashfield? What’s in it for me if I win? You’ve got nothing I want — and you probably ain’t got the equivalent in cash, either.’

  ‘I’ve got my claim to the Double-L,’ Larry said. ‘Not to mention the gold mine that goes with it. You and I both know that it’s rightfully mine. If I was to hire a big-time lawyer from Austin, and show him my uncle’s letter to me, he’d start investigating your activities. You may be a big fish around here, but I doubt your crooked practices could stand up to intense outside legal scrutiny. If I lost to you I’d be prepared to surrender the letter to you and sign a deed giving up my claim to the Double-L completely. You can draft the deed yourself and I’d sign it.’ Larry paused, watching Makin’s expression. He could see he was wavering.

  ‘There’s your stake, Makin. A ranch for a ranch.’

  Makin still hesitated. ‘I rather like having the Bar-6. Makes King do as I tell him. If I lose it, that power’s gone. And his daughter with it.’

  ‘You can leave me out of it,’ Val said briefly. ‘I want nothing more to do with you, Cl
iff, after your remarks tonight. Nothing will alter that, whether you own the Bar-6 or not.’

  Makin grinned. ‘I don’t give in that easily, Val, when I want something — and I sure want you. All right, son,’ he added, plainly amused, ‘I’ll play you.’

  Larry nodded and followed Makin through the crowded room to a vacant table. The lawyer sat down, cuffed up his hat, then lighted a cheroot. Larry sat down, too, half-smiling to himself, his pale face very intent and thoughtful. King and Val stood behind him. An interested knot of spectators was already beginning to gather.

  ‘Drink?’ Makin asked. ‘Or would that blow those little-boy guts of yours apart?’

  ‘Whiskey,’ Larry said quietly.

  Makin nodded and waved his big arm. ‘Hey, Curly, some whiskey over here — and bring the bottle. And a new deck of cards.’

  ‘Coming right up,’ a waiter responded; in the space of perhaps three minutes Makin had the playing-cards beside him in their new carton, and a bottle of whiskey and two glasses at his elbow. He filled the glasses, pushed one across, then eyed Larry fixedly through the haze from his cheroot.

  ‘Toss for dealer,’ he said, and Larry nodded.

  A coin spun in the air from Makin’s hand and landed with a clink on the table. He called and clamped his palm over it, then withdrew his hand.

  ‘You deal,’ Larry said, and put down his half-empty whiskey glass.

  The ‘orchestra’ on the rostrum had stopped its noise. The activity at the other gaming-tables had ceased. There was a curious breathless quietness in the big room. The prospect of Buzzard’s Bend’s most accomplished gambler playing a civilized tenderfoot promised some fireworks — for the tenderfoot.

  Makin tore the card wrappings and then sliced the cards through his hands quickly. Larry did not move a muscle. Behind him, King and Val glanced at one another. Then Makin dealt five cards to Larry and five to himself. The remaining cards he put on the table before him and squared them up, face down.

 

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