Sudden: Rides Again

by Oliver Strange

  “Dunno what’s keepin’ ‘em,” he said impatiently. “The Chief’d comb their wool good an’ plenty if he knowed.”

  “Here’s one a-comin’ now,” the man said, as Ben Holt loped up.

  “He ain’t with me, but mebbe he has a message,” Sudden replied, and swung round so as to leave the exit clear.

  Instantly Holt put spurs to his horse, dashed through the opening, and went thundering down the road. With an oath of dismay, the gate-man snatched out a pistol.

  “Don’t be an ass, friend,” Sudden said sharply. “D’yu wanta advertise that yu let him pass?”

  “This’ll git me in bad,” the man said angrily.

  “Shore, if it’s knowed, but I ain’t yappin’ an’ if yu don’t, who’s to guess he didn’t use the other gate?” the puncher argued. “Hello, here’s them loafers.”

  As Scar and his company trotted up he surveyed them with a frown. “Yo’re late,” he snapped. “What d’yu think this is—a pleasure trip? Get goin’.”

  The went out and the keeper closed and bolted the gate behind them. “Gawd!” he soliloquized. “If I was takin’ a ride with that bunch I wouldn’t start with fault-findin’, even if I had put Butch outa business. No, sir.”

  Outside, Sudden had paired with Roden, telling the others to ride ahead. “We want the shortest road to Red Rock, an’ keep yore broncs movin’,” he said, and to Scar, “Yu know what we’re after?”

  “Betcha life—the Chief told me,” was the answer, with a sly look which had meaning for the man at his side.

  “There’s a dip five miles east o’ the town; that’s where we strike. Know it?”

  “Yeah, it’s the very place; lots o’ cover an’ a good getaway. It’ll be the softest thing ever.”

  “No doubt,” was the reply. “When we get there I’ll lay out a plan. For now, yu can join yore friends.”

  The plain intimation that his presence was not desired brought a scowl to Roden’s always unpleasant features, but he obeyed in silence, consoling himself with the thought that it would be his turn to talk presently.

  Hours passed, spent in climbing hills, crossing streams, threading dark, winding gulches, with every now and then, an open space where they could put on speed. They were treading no beaten track but the leaders evidently knew their way, wild as the country was. The puncher followed, eyes and mind alert. The possibility that the ruffians might shoot him and decamp with the spoil must, he felt sure, have occurred to the Chief. Was he prepared to pay this price for Sudden’s death, or did he rely on the fear which he flattered himself all his followers felt for him?

  The puncher could not answer the question. It might even be that the coach robbery was a mere pretext to give these men their opportunity, but the covert backward glances and intermittent burst of rude mirth were not calculated to lull him into a sense of security. With set lips and narrowed eyes he rode on, his right hand never far from a gun; at the first dubious sign he would slay—ruthlessly.

  But no occasion arose; the men in front pressed steadily on, seemingly intent only on the journey. At long last, they pulled up on the edge of a pine forest, and Scar nodded as Sudden joined them.

  “Here she is,” he said. “Take a peep through the brush an’ you’ll see the trail to Red Rock.”

  “I’m believin’ yu,” the puncher said drily, unwilling that his back should be a target for four guns.

  It was indeed a perfect place for an ambush; high bushes fringed the wheel-rutted roadway, and behind them the matted foliage of the pines, defying the rays of the sinking sun, turned daylight into darkness.

  “We can stay on our horses,” Sudden decided. “String out along the trail, an’ don’t fire a shot till I give the word. I’ll do the talkin’.”

  Half an hour went by and but for the stamp of a restive pony and a growled curse from its owner, there was no sound. Sudden was beginning to wonder if they had arrived too late when the distant crack of a whip and the muffled beat of hooves announced that the prey was heading for the trap. Presently they saw the coach swing round a bend and come racing down the slope. The puncher’s teeth shut down on an oath when he saw that there were no attendant riders; had Holt failed?

  “On’y the express-man to deal with,” Scar chuckled. “Yu leave that to me,” Sudden said sharply.

  The clumsy vehicle clattered down the short descent at the gallop, gathering momentum for the coming rise, while Sudden vainly sought a way out of the dilemma in which he found himself. He could see nothing for it but to carry out the robbery and trust to being able to return the booty later, for to fail now without a powerful reason would be the end of his enterprise in Hell City. By the time he reached this decision the coach was slowing up for the climb, and he was just about to step forward and give the command to halt when a rifle spoke and the express messenger swayed in his seat.”Damnation!” Sudden swore. “Who fired?”

  “I did—yo’re lettin’ ‘em git away,” Daggs replied insolently, and urged his horse forward. “C’mon, boys.” The puncher’s face grew bleak. “I’ll shoot the first man who stirs,” he threatened. “Look, yu fools.”

  Round a curve in the trail a band of eight horsemen had appeared. They had arrived on the scene just in time to see the flash of the shot, and were now thundering at breakneck speed for the coach, shouting and shooting as they advanced. A storm of leaden bullets swept through the flimsy wall of brush behind which the bandits were hidden, and Daggs, with a gasping cough, pitched sideways from his saddle. Sudden gave him one glance.

  “Cashed,” he said. “An’ we’ll be the same ‘less we get outa here, an’ that soon.”

  There was no demur; the death of a comrade, the venomous hum of bullets about their ears, and utter collapse of the enterprise had reduced the road-agents to a state almost of panic; they had no thought but to save their skins. As they wheeled and galloped into the gloom of the forest, they heard the crack of a whip and the crunch of the iron tyres as the coach resumed its journey. The fusillade ceased, to be followed by the sound of bodies moving in the brush; they were being searched for. A couple of miles of fast riding and, the noise of pursuit having died away, they pulled up to breathe their mounts. Scar was the first to speak.

  “Someone musta spilt the beans; that was the sheriff leadin’.”

  “Talk sense,” Squint said irritably. “None o’ us heard o’ the job till this mornin’. Point is, what’s to do?”

  “Yu three will go back an’ report,” Sudden said. “I wanta find out what’s happenin’ to that gold—mebbe we’ll get another chance. I’m goin’ to Red Rock.”

  “The hell you are,” Scar said. “Any one of us could tackle that.”

  “Any one o’ yu would be clapped in the calaboose as soon as the sheriff put eyes on yu,” came the stinging retort. “I’m not knowed.”

  This being the literal truth, was unanswerable. Sullenly the three watched him ride away, and then set out on a task besides which the risky one of robbing the coach was pure enjoyment; they had to own to another failure.

  Free from observation, Sudden’s disappointed expression vanished in a satisfied grin. He had scored again, and though compelled to deny himself the pleasure of breaking the bad news to the bandit, he had a hunch that his visit to Red Rock would be worthwhile. But caution was imperative, and therefore he compassed a half-circle in order to enter the town from the west.

  He found it agog with excitement. The coach had departed, but armed men were stationed near the bank, and the saloons were full. Sudden entered the largest of these, purchased liquor, and sat down at a table. Presently, as he had expected, a burly, red-haired man—after a word with the bartender—came to join him, glass in hand.

  “Stranger here, I think?” he remarked genially.

  “Yu don’t have to think again—sheriff,” the puncher returned. “The town seems sorta agitated.”

  “Road-agents tried to hold up the coach,” the other informed, and gave details, watching keenly.

&n
bsp; “Which is why yo’re investigatin’ me, huh?” Sudden smiled. “D’yu figure any of ‘em would be nervy enough to make for here?”

  “Might be a good bluff—’cept for the fella downed, we didn’t git a glimmer of ‘em.”

  “Well, yo’re wastin’ time on me. I’m from the north, aimin’ to visit a man name o’ Merry. Know him?”

  “Shore I do—tall, an’ that scanty he don’t hardly throw a shadder. Runs the Twin Diamond ranch.”

  “That’s the joker,” Sudden agreed, and smiled when he saw the other’s eyes harden. “He must ‘a’ altered some, for when I last met up with him he was short an’ his shadder made yu think the sun had gone in. Has he rebuilt that hen-roost he calls a house yet?”

  The sheriff laughed. “I lose,” he said. “The drinks is on me. Any friend o’ Mart’s is welcome here.” He replenished the glasses, and went on, “I was admirin’ that black o’ yores, but the brand beat me.”

  “The JG stands for James Green, meanin’ me,” Sudden said carelessly. “He’s a wild stallion, an’ I broke an’ put the the iron on him my own self.”

  “I’m Sim Dealtry, sheriff o’ this burg some ten years now, an’ it ain’t no cake-walk.”

  “Pleased to know yu,” the puncher replied, and then, “There used to be another range alongside the Twin Diamond, owned by a starchy of Southerner called Keith. He had a son—nice-appearin’ lad, but a trifle mettlesome. Is he still about?”

  “Ain’t seen him for quite a considerable spell,” the sheriff said. “He was a pretty constant visitor to Red Rock, an’ bein’, like you say, mettlesome, got in with the wrong party. Gamblin’, drinkin’, an’ then a shootin’, though that didn’t amount to much for the fella was as crooked as a cow’s hind leg an’ pulled first, but when it comes to plain murder …” His lips closed down on the word and his eyes were flinty. “My own son, Dan, shot from behind in the dark,” he went on throatily. “An’ that same night, Jeff Keith, who had quarrelled with the boy, disappeared. The town pinned the crime on him right away.”

  “An’ yu?” the puncher asked.

  Dealtry shook his head. “I ain’t shore,” he admitted. “I know somethin’ the rest don’t: Keith allus carried a forty-four, the same cartridges fittin’ his rifle, an’ the slug taken from my boy’s body was—different. O’ course, he mighta used another gun.”

  “Anyone else missin” ‘bout that time?” Sudden asked. “Yeah, chap named Lafe Lander that Keith was pretty partial to, but he showed up again two-three days later. Didn’t stay though—said he was goin’ back East, where he belonged.”

  “Had he any grudge against yore son?”

  “They didn’t mix; it was over him that Dan an’ Keith fell out. I guess my boy spoke his mind too plain.”

  “Tough luck, sheriff.”

  “Shore was—an’ is. I’d feel easier if the sneakin’ houn’ hadn’t got away with it.”

  “What’s come o’ young Keith?”

  “I wish you could tell me,” Dealtry said. “His dad disowned him—complete. Some claim he’s the masked leader of a band of outlaws pesterin’ the country since soon after he was lost sight of. What d’you make o’ that?”

  Sudden examined the familiar red badge with well-simulated curiosity.

  “Yu can search me,” he replied, inwardly amused at the thought that if the sheriff took him at his word, he would find a second. “Where’d yu get her?”

  “The dead hold-up was wearin’ it, an’ if rumour is right, it means he was one o’ Keith’s gang. Well, I gotta get along to the bank; them hombres may try again; I hope they do. See you later, p’r’aps.”

  “I’m turnin’ in,” Sudden told him. “Makin’ an early start.”

  “‘Member me to Mart.”

  “Shore will, but he’ll be surprised yu’d forgotten what he looked like.”

  The sly reminder of his little trap brought a grin to the sheriff’s face. “You ain’t obliged to tell him that,” he pointed out. “An’ say, if ever you want to cash in on that hoss, let me know.”

  “When he’s for sale I’ll be wearin’ wings—mebbe,” Sudden smiled.

  Dealtry nodded comprehendingly; he had felt that way about a horse himself.

  Chapter XIX

  The sun was no more than peeping above the purple hills on the horizon when Sudden rode out of Red Rock. The town was not yet stirring, but in front of a squat ‘dobe building which he knew to be the bank, an armed man was steadily pacing to and fro; clearly the sheriff was overlooking no bets. He smiled grimly.

  “We’ve taken the pot again, Nig, but the luck’s too good to last,” he murmured. “There’s bound to come a time when I’ll wanta throw in an’ dasn’t, an’ then—mebbe yu’ll have a new master.”

  The animal whinnied, threw up its head, and dropped into a long lope which, save in difficult stretches, would eat up the miles. So it came about that, while the day was still young, Sudden rode again into Hell City, turned his horse into the corral, and went into the saloon. His three men were there.

  “Reported? Not damn likely; that’s yore affair,” Scar snorted, in reply to a question.

  Sudden smiled; they were not going to help him. “I’m obliged,” he said. “I’d sooner tell the story my own way.”

  He read the instant look of apprehension; evidently it had not occurred to Roden that the whole blame for the nonsuccess of the expedition might be put upon himself and his companions.

  “Guess I’d better come along,” he suggested.

  “All the same to me,” Sudden said indifferently.

  He went out. Scar followed, sullenly enough, for he now saw that in trying to be clever he had been merely stupid; he should have made his own tale good.

  “There ain’t no call to tell him we come back ahead o’ you,” he suggested.

  “Are yu expectin’ he won’t know?”

  Scar was not, he had only hopes, and these died the moment his chief set eyes on him.

  “You arrived eight hours ago, Roden,” he said. “Why haven’t I seen you?”

  The man had an inspiration; he jerked a thumb at his companion. “Best ask him; he’s the doc, an’ a pretty mess he’s made of it.”

  Satan looked savagely from one to the other. “Where’s the gold?” he snapped.

  “In the bank at Red Rock, I reckon,” Sudden said coolly, and told what had happened.

  The looked-for outburst did not come, but below the mask he could see the rigid jaw-muscles and knew that the bandit was fighting to conceal his fury.

  “So you failed,” came the caustic comment, and the tone conveyed a threat.

  Sudden glared at him. “Shore we did,” he retorted harshly, “an’ whose fault was it? Yores, for givin’ me muck-rakin’s to work with. If they’d obeyed orders Daggs wouldn’t ‘a’ fired, an’ we’d ‘a’ had the posse under our guns before they knowed we was there, an’ cleaned ‘em up. As it was, they outnumbered us two to one; it’s no use shoutin’ against thunder.”

  Scar’s eyes were near popping out of his head—he had never seen his dreaded chief talked back to, and fully expected to see the offender shot down. But the masked man had himself in hand. He looked at Roden.

  “Was that the way of it?”

  “Daggs was too eager, an’ spilled us,” the rogue sulkily admitted, and with a spark of spirit, added, “You didn’t tell us there would be a guard follerin’ the coach.”

  “You can get out,” Satan said, and when Roden had retreated, willingly enough, turned to the puncher. “It seems you could not help it.” He was silent for a moment, and then, “Singular how things have gone awry for me since you came here.”

  “Yu have lost yore medicine.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When it happens to an Injun, he has angered his gods an’ nothin’ goes right; a white man calls it bein’ outa luck.”

  Satan’s lips curled disdainfully. “The excuse of the weak,” he said. “The strong man laughs at luck—good or ill. Wh
at did you learn at Red Rock?”

  “On’y that the bank is a fine place to stay away from just now,” Sudden replied. “The sheriff showed me one o’ yore badges—got it from Daggs. He was real interested.”

  “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.”