Sudden The Marshal of Lawless (1933) s-8

by Oliver Strange

  "Thought yu didn't savvy the country," sneered the 88 man.

  "Oh, I got a sort o' general idea. The Box B, I figure, lies well to the left o' here, don't it?"

  Leeson nodded sulkily. "We turn off a piece along. This is an. easier way if mebbe a bit farther."

  "Tricky drivin' at night," the marshal pursued, and his tone conveyed a question.

  "I reckoned to make it in daylight, but we had trouble," the other explained. "Well, I gotta be movin'. So long." He spurred his horse after the herd, but in two jumps the marshal was beside him.

  "We'll come an' give a hand," he said. "Four ain't enough for a bunch this size--must be all four hundred."

  "We can handle 'em," Leeson said, his tone expressing anything but gratitude. "Yu needn't trouble."

  "No trouble a-tall, ol'-timer," Green said pleasantly. "We're goin' yore way."

  With a muttered curse the 88 man rode to the head of the herd. He had sensed that the marshal was playing with him, that his presence there was not accidental, but he could see no way of ridding himself of the unwelcome assistance. The cows must now be taken to their rightful owner instead of being handed over to El Diablo, whose men were waiting for them just across the line. Had the interloper been alone--His brows met in a heavy frown.

  "Head 'em for Bordene's ranch," he called out to the man on the right, and gritted out an oath as he saw the marshal and his companions helping to swing the cows round so that they faced east instead of south.

  "This'll shore be a joyful surprise for Bordene," Pete said genially. "He oughta be real grateful to yu fellas."

  The journey was resumed in a silence broken only by the bawling of the cows and an occasional curse from one of the drivers when an animal tried to break away. But there was little of this, the poor brutes being too footsore and weary to do more than lurch along. Faint streaks of light behind the hills heralded the dawn, and the sun was rimming the ridges of the distant ranges with gold when the Box B was sighted. Leaving the herd in charge of the others, Leeson, with Green and Barsay, rode up to the ranch-house. A hail brought out the owner.

  "Well, damn me!" he cried. "Whatever are yu doin' here?"

  "I've fetched back some o' yore cattle, Bordene," the 88 man told him. "Found 'em mixed up with our'n. We picked up the marshal on the way."

  The young rancher's face lighted up at the sight of the herd. "It's mighty decent o' Jevons," he said. "If he'd let me know I'd 'a' sent for 'em, an' glad o' the chance. 'Light an' eat, all o' yu; my boys'll take care o' the herd."

  Green, his deputy, Leeson, and their host took breakfast at the ranch-house, the rest eating with the Box B riders. During the meal the 88 man gave again the explanation he had already given the marshal. Bordene was warm in his thanks.

  "I'm a lot obliged to yu, Leeson," he said.

  "Shucks! Couldn't do nothin' else," that worthy replied uncomfortably, and Green smothered a chuckle; the fellow was, unintentionally, speaking the sober truth.

  "Yu ain't struck the trail o' any 'Paches, I'm guessin'?" the marshal asked.

  Leeson looked at him with sudden suspicion. "Yore guessin's good," he returned. "Reckon they'd get away with the beef plenty quick."

  As soon as the meal was over Leeson got up. "Have to be p'intin' for home--Jevons'll be lookin' for us," he said, and with an unpleasant grin, "an' we'll take the old road; them round-about routes don't seem to pay."

  "Crooked trails rarely do, Leeson," the marshal told him.

  They watched the 88 men disappear in the distance, and then the marshal leaned back in his chair and laughed. Barsay caught the infection, and the rancher regarded them in blank amazement.

  "Let me in on the joke, boys," he pleaded. "I ain't had much to be merry about lately, yu know."

  "Sorry, Andy, but it was just too funny to see yu squanderin' gratitude on that fella an' rubbin' a sore spot every time yu thanked him," Green explained. "Fact is, if it hadn't been for me, Pete, an' the Injun, yore cows would 'a' been over the Border hours back. Runnin' across Leeson an' that handful o' steers put the idea in my head, an' I sent Black Feather to keep an eye on the 88. He fetched us just in time."

  "The damned skunks!" Andy exploded. "Do yu figure Jevons is in it?"

  "Can't say," the marshal admitted. "Don't see how Leeson an' his men could get away with such a herd without the foreman knowin'."

  "Seems hardly possible," Bordene agreed.

  "Raven owns the 88, don't he?" Pete asked meaningly.

  "Yeah, but I can't believe he'd have any hand in this," Andy replied. "Lots o' people don't like him, but he's my friend, an', besides, there was a good reason for him wantin' my drive to go through; I was sellin' to pay a debt to him, an' he wanted the money."

  "Then he's still shy of it?" Green asked.

  "Nope. I borrowed from the bank an' paid him," Bordene said. "He told me he had to have it."

  The marshal was silent for a while, and then he said, "So he's got his coin, an' if he was in this steal he'd be the value o' those steers to the good, huh?"

  "That's so, of course, but I can't think it of Seth," the young man replied. "He's hard, an' he wants his pound o' flesh, but he ain't crooked."

  Green let it go at that. After all, he had no proof that the saloon-keeper was anything but what he seemed. He had plenty to think about on the journey back to Lawless, and Pete did not enjoy the ride.

  CHAPTER XII

  The marshal's doubts as to Raven's participation in the attempted rustling would have been speedily dissolved had he been present when the news arrived at the 88. Jevons was angry--for his own pocket was affected--but he was also alarmed. Two hours' riding brought him to the Red Ace. Entering by the back door, he sent in a message to the proprietor, who was playing poker. Raven rose instantly.

  "Leave me out for a spell; got sornethin' to 'tend to," he excused, and went to his office.

  Here he found his foreman waiting, and it needed no second glance to see that he had come in a hurry and on no pleasant errand. The cards had proved unkind to Raven and he was in an ill mood.

  "What's the matter now, Jevons?" he growled.

  The man told the story just as he had it from Leeson, and the saloon-keeper's usually impassive face grew stormy as he realized the possible consequences of the disaster.

  "Yu blunderin' fool," he hissed. "Why didn't vu go yoreself instead o' sendin' that mutton-head?"

  "What difference would that 'a' made anyhow?" Jevons retorted. "Lookit, the marshal finds us drivin' four hundred Box B steers; what else was there to tell him? Let's hear what yu'd 'a' done; shoot 'em down, huh?"

  Raven sensed that he was going too far; the man was too useful a tool to lose. Moreover, looking at the problem Leeson had to face more coolly, he could not but admit the only possible solution had been found. Tactfully he turned his wrath in another direction.

  "Blast that marshal, he's allus hornin' in on what don't concern him," he snarled. "What was he doin' over there?"

  "Waitin' for the herd, Leeson reckons," the foreman said. "Some way he got on to it, though I'm blamed if I know how."

  Raven was silent, remembering something. "I can tell yu," he said. "That pesky Indian nosed it out; Green said he was usin' him."

  "Yu don't often make a mistake in pickin' a man, boss, but yu shore slipped up on that marshal," Jevons said acidly.

  "Mistakes can frequently be rectified," his employer told him. "Leeson don't like Green much, does he?"

  "Not that yu'd notice," returned the foreman, adding with an ugly smile as he read the other's mind, "I'm bettin' he'd like five hundred bucks a good deal more."

  "He can choose between 'em," the saloon-keeper said meaningly. "Tell him I said so. Anybody see yu ride in?" The foreman shook his head. "Slip out quiet an' get back to the ranch," Raven added, and returned to his cards.

  The 88 man was wrong in supposing he had not been seen. A pair of black, vigilant eyes, from a little depression fifty yards to the rear of the Red Ace, had watched bot
h his arrival and departure. Black Feather was still working for the marshal.

  * * *

  Early on the following afternoon a musical call of "Hello, the house," appraised Bordene that he had a visitor. Stepping out on the veranda, he saw Tonia, astride a mettlesome little mustang. She jumped down and trailed the reins when he appeared.

  "Why, Tonia, what good angel fetched you?" he cried.

  She sat down in the chair he pushed forward, accepted a glass of water from the olla hanging in the porch, and then turned a serious face to her host.

  "I haven't seen you since your drive failed, Andy," she said. "It was bad luck."

  "Might 'a' been worse--barrin' Tod," the young man replied. "I got nearly two-thirds of 'em back in the end," and went on to relate the story of the strays from the 88.

  "So your cows were headed for Mexico," she said thoughtfully. "Andy, what do you think of the marshal?"

  "I reckon he's white," Bordene replied.

  "I like him too," she said. "I went in once or twice to see that sick Indian he rescued; the man just worships him."

  "Hey, Tonia, don't yu go lavishin' too much affection on Green," Bordene cried; and though he spoke in mock alarm, there was again an undertone of concern in his voice.

  The girl detected it and was thrilled. Adopting his own manner of speech, she said teasingly, "I shorely gotta be grateful when a fella helps yu, ain't I?" Before he could reply, she was sober again. "Andy, how much do you owe Raven?"

  "Who's been tellin' yu--" he began, and paused.

  "The same little old bird," she smiled.

  "Reg'lar poll-parrot, that bird," Bordene commented. "Well, here's the straight of it, Tonia. I did owe Seth money an' was aimin' to pay when I sold the herd. When the drive was busted I had to borrow from the bank on mortgage."

  "I don't like that," she said. "Why didn't you come to us?"

  Bordene shook his head and she rose to go. "It'll be all right, Tonia," he assured her. "Potter is straight, an' when I've sold my cows I can square up. I'll see yu a piece on the way."

  The girl laughed at him. "Do you think I'm an Eastern miss to want shepherding?" she asked. Then she held out her hand. "Don't trust Raven too much, Andy," she said earnestly.

  With a wave and a smile, she wheeled the pony and was off. The young rancher watched her, something more than admiration in his eyes. Then he looked at his dwelling-place and spoke aloud:

  "It ain't good enough for her, an' I ain't good enough neither, but, by God, we're agoin' to be, both of us."

  Meanwhile, the subject of this pious resolution was loping steadily in the direction of her own ranch. She had crossed the miles of open plain and reached a strip of rougher country which formed one of the boundaries of the Box B when, at the end of a long, narrow ravine, she saw a rider approaching. One glance was enough--there was no mistaking the flaming scarlet tunic, with its wealth of gold braid glittering in the bright sun. Though she had seen him but once, Tonia knew that it was El Diablo, the man whom Andy had treated so cavalierly in Lawless.

  With a shiver of apprehension she sought a means of avoiding the meeting, but it was too late; he must already have seen her. So she rode on, endeavouring to appear unconcerned, hoping that by a display of indifference she might get past. But when she was a few yards distant the man pulled his mount across, barring her path, and swept the sombrero from his head.

  "Buenos dias, senorita," he said, and in her own tongue he added, "Miss Sarel ride all alone, huh?"

  "As you see, senor," the girl replied. "I must ask you to excuse me; I am in haste."

  "The senorita was not hurrying when I see her," he replied meaningly. "A lady so beautiful must also be kind-hearted and grant a few meenits to her so great admirer."

  "I have no time to spare, and--I do not know you, senor," Tonia returned.

  The guerrilla captain bowed low over the neck of his magnificent mount. "No?" he smiled. "Then we must--how you say?--become acquaint. In the absence of Meester Bordene I present myself, Don Luis Moraga, a caballero of Old Spain, and at your feet."

  " 'In my way' would be more correct, senor," the girl retorted. "As for Mr. Bordene, I am expecting him to overtake me, and he may have friends with him."

  The man laughed mockingly. "I too have friends here, senorita," he said, and tapped the butts of the silver-mounted pistols thrust through his sash.

  "I must repeat, senor, that I am in haste," she said coldly. "A caballero would not detain me."

  Moraga grinned hatefully as he forced his horse to her side. "The senorita is at liberty to go--when she have paid, oh, so small a ransom," he said. "One leetle kees--"

  Tonia's eyes and cheeks flamed at the insult. Heedless of her helplessness, she gripped the quirt dangling by a thong from her wrist, and cried:

  "Lay a finger on me, you yellow dog, and I'll thrash you."

  The contemptuous epithet stung the Mexican to fury; his face became that of a devil indeed. "Dios!" he hissed, "you shall pay for that." He snatched at her wrist, but she jumped her horse aside and swung the whip. Moraga cursed as the lash seared his cheek, but before she could strike again his claw-like hands were sinking into her flesh and he was dragging her from the saddle, his snarling lips, like a ravening wolf's, close to her own. Panting for breath, she fought on, but could not loosen that iron grip, and her strength was well-nigh spent when a cold, rasping voice said:

  "Put 'em up, Greaser, an' pronto!"

  Moraga flashed round, his hands going to his guns, but when he saw who had spoken they went above his head instead; he knew better than to try and beat the marshal of Lawless to the draw. Green, lounging in his saddle, surveyed the ruffian sardonically.

  "Gettin' whipped seems to be a habit o' yours," he commented, his gaze on the angry crimson stripe across the man's face. Green turned to the girl. "Has he hurt yu?" he asked.

  "No, I'm only frightened," she replied.

  "Ride on a piece, Miss Sarel," he said. "I'll be along."

  She divined the menace beneath the casual request. "What are you going to do?" she questioned.

  "Kill a snake," he said coolly.

  "No, no," she protested. "He's a Mexican and didn't understand. Please let him go."

  The marshal shrugged his broad shoulders. "I oughta wiped him out the first time," he said. "Very well, ma'am, but he's gotta have a lesson. Get off yore hoss an' stand over there," he directed the Mexican, pointing to a spot about ten paces distant, and when the command had been sullenly obeyed, he added, "An' stand mighty still if yu want to see another sunrise."

  He got down himself and drawing the two pistols from the bandit's sash, stepped back. For a moment he paused, weighing the weapons, and then the gun in his right hand roared and the brooch in Moraga's sombrero was torn from its place; a second shot ripped away the bullion band, while the third left the wearer bareheaded. Livid, but a statue of stone for stillness, the victim stood while, with incredible swiftness, shot followed shot in a continual stream. The golden epaulettes dropped from his shoulders; his belt, the buckle shattered by a bullet, fell away; the great silver spurs were wrenched from his heels. Having emptied the borrowed pistols the marshal flung them down and drew his own.

  "Keep still," he warned, and stepped round so that he sighted his target sideways.

  This time he used both guns, firing them alternately with such speed that the reports sounded like a roll of thunder. One by one the gilt buttons of the scarlet tunic leapt off, and only when the last dropped to the ground did the devilish tattoo cease. From the Mexican's chalky-white face, eyes in which fear and hate commingled glared at this smoke-wreathed, grim-lipped man who shot like a wizard. In those few moments Moraga had died twenty times, expecting each bullet to be the last, and his nerve-racked body was shivering despite the sun blazing overhead. The marshal reloaded his guns and slid them into the holsters.

  "Yu can thank the senorita for yore life, Moraga," he said sternly. "Stay yore own side o' the line; she may not be there to beg y
u off next time. Vamos!"

  He swung into his saddle and joined Tonia.

  "How can I thank you?" she asked. "I'm not easily scared, but that fellow was--horrible!"

  "Just forget it," Green smiled. "This is part o' my job as marshal; but yu didn't oughta ride alone around here--it's too near the Border."

  "Andy wanted to come, but I wouldn't let him," she explained. "He's busy--he has to be, after so much misfortune. Do you believe in luck, Mr. Green?"

  "Shore, I've met her," was the reply. The girl's look of surprise brought a grin to his lips. "Luck must be a lady to play the pranks she does, yu know," he explained.

  Tonia laughed with him. "I don't think Andy is one of her favourites," she speculated.

  "Mebbe not, just now, but I've a hunch he's goin' to be one o' the luckiest fellas in Arizona," the marshal said, and smiled when he saw the colour in his companion's cheeks.

  When they reached the Double S, Reuben Sarel emerged from his favoured corner on the veranda to greet them. "Glad to see yu, marshal," he cried. "Why, Tonia, what's the matter?"

  In a few words she told of her adventure, and the fat man's expression became serious. "I'm thankin' yu, marshal," he said. "We'll have to keep an eye liftin' at the Double S. By all accounts, El Diablo is a poisonous piece o' work, an' he'll move heaven an' hell to square hisself. Gosh! I'd 'a' give somethin' to see yu strippin' off his finery."

  "I never saw such shooting--it was wonderful," Tonia said.

  "Well, mebbe yu put a scare into him, but I doubt it," Sarel went on. "These damn Greasers have their own sneaky ways o' gettin' back at yu. Wonder if he bumped off Bordene?"

  "Possible, o' course, but I got no reason to think so," the marshal replied. "Yu losin' any cows?"

  The fat man opened his eyes. "Yeah, but I ain't been advertisin' it," he said. "There seems to be a steady leak--few at a time, an' I can't trace it. Any reason for askin'?"

  "Just a notion," Green assured him. "Tell yu later if I get to know anythin'."

  On his way back to town he pondered over the bit of information. It had been purely a shot in the dark, but it opened up a new line of investigation for the morrow. Looking at the Double S brand on the rump of Miss Sarel's mount, it had suddenly struck him how very simply it could be changed, with the aid of a wet blanket and a running iron, into a passable 88. He slapped the neck of the black horse.