Sudden Plays a Hand (1950)

by Oliver Strange

  All that the lawyer could think at the moment was that a substantial commission, together with the opportunity of vastly increasing it, were disappearing like a dream. He flogged his brain to discover some flaw in the evidence which would restore a glimmer of hope.

  `Your facts about Miss Darrell may be correct, but you have not proved, as yet, that your claimant is that person,' Seale said.

  The girl spoke for the first time : `Did you ever see Mary Pavitt before she left home, Mister Seale?'

  `Many times,' he replied absently.

  She rose and moved forward into a better light. `Would you say that I resemble her?'

  He raised his head, and his mean little eyes opened to their fullest extent. `God! You're her living image,' he cried, shocked into speaking the truth.

  `I have been told so,' she said quietly. `Are you satisfied?'

  He was, but would not admit it; even now, there might be some way out. `You certainly have a case,' he said. `It will take time to examine it thoroughly.'

  `Don't worry if yu lose that certificate,' Sudden said sardonically. `The original an' the man who wrote it can be produced. Yu will inform the Governor, o' course?'

  `No need--at present,' Seale said hurriedly. `The matter is in my hands. As soon as I have come to a decision, I will take the necessary steps to put Miss Darrell in possession of the property.'

  With which pompous statement he took his leave. The puncher accompanied him to the door. `Speed is what we want, ol'-timer,' he said in a low voice. `The lady has been without her inheritance long enough. Remember, yu can pay too high a price even for a thousand bucks.'

  His face a pasty yellow, the man scuttled out of the house, scrambled into his conveyance, and grabbed the whip. Sudden's amused gaze followed him.

  `Hell ! I oughta mentioned the nearest way to the Big C,' he soliloquised.

  Sudden's prediction as to the lawyer's destination was correct, and he proceeded there as quickly as the raw-boned beast he was driving could take him. Only when the buckboard was within sight of the Big C ranch-house did he slacken pace; he was not looking forward to the interview; the rancher's tongue was two-edged, and he never troubled to conceal his contempt for those he used.

  `Well, what foul wind has blown you here?' was his greeting.

  `I've news--bad news, Greg,' the lawyer replied.

  `You shore look it. Bad for you, or for me?'

  `For both of us--we've lost the S P.'

  Cullin's frown deepened. `Which means you've made a mess of things, I s'pose. How come?'

  The missing heir has turned up.'

  `Well, with yore knowledge of how to evade the Law you oughta oe able to upset the claim.'

  Seale shook his head. `It's as straight as a string--they have the proofs. I haven't said so--yet, but there isn't a doubt.' `Who are they?'

  The claimant and the chap who found her--a cowpuncher from the Mexican Border.'

  `Found her?' Cullin repeated. `You told me the Pavitt woman had cashed, an' nhat it was her son you were lookin' for. You better spill the beans.'

  The lawyer was ready enough; he knew that if there should be a means of evasion, the cattleman, with his acute, unscrupulous brain would find it. Cullin, poker-faced, listened without comment until he finished.

  You oughta done as I suggested--searched her out yoreself,' he said. `Then we could've arranged that no claim would be made. What you gotta do now is make a friend o' the gal, put her in possession as soon as maybe, an'--not pointedly, slam the S P; it's been neglected, badly managed, the profit small, an' the outlook for the cattle trade generally--gloomy. Get her to let you sell an' invest the coin, leavin' her free to have a good time an' no anxiety. Play yore part right an' she'll fall for it, an' my offer to you still stands. By the way, where is that letter?'

  `Burned--it was dangerous,' the lawyer lied. `As for your plan, it's good--you still have the gift--but it will fail; the girl won't lack advisers; I forgot to mention that at present she's living in Shadow Valley.'

  Cullin sprang from his seat. `So it's that girl?' he cried. `How'n hell did she get there, an' what's she doin'?'

  `She skedaddled from her last job, and Drait found her adrift in the wilds,' Seale explained, adding with a sneer, `As to what she's doing, it doesn't need two guesses.'

  He got a black look. `I wouldn't repeat that, Seale,' came the warning. `I've seen her, an' she's not that sort.'

  This left the man of law speechless; Cullin defending a woman's character was something he never dreamed of witnessing. He had expected an eruption, and here was the human volcano seated again, and wearing a slow smile of satisfaction. Indeed, the rancher had reason. The luck was breaking for him; the woman he wanted, the ranch for which he had schemed, and the man he hated, seemed no be almost within his grasp. He found himself wondering about the girl, for although he had closed Seale's evil mouth, it had been no tribute to her, but merely an automatic gesture--he would not permit a slur on one he intended to make his own. Presently he spoke again:

  `Forget all I've said, Luke, except puttin' Miss Darrell in possession as quickly as possible. An' she's to have a straight deal. You can leave the rest to me; I'll see you don't lose by it.'

  Fortified by a stiff dose of whisky, the lawyer set out for Midway, where he would stay the night and catch the coach in the morning. It had been a tiring day, both physically and mentally, and though cheered somewhat by the reflection that all was not yet lost, he was far from sanguine. Worry his wits as he might, utter failure resulted from his efforts to fathom Cullin's reaction to the news, but obviously the rancher had a plan, and the Weasel promised himself that he would discover and profit by it. The missing letter troubled him; he had only learned of the loss some days after it had been taken. The cowboy's farewell remark he put down as a shot in the dark, for he had completely forgotten the temporary absence of his keys.

  Meanwhile, the man he had left was striding up and down his room, busily building a pleasing picture. Ownership of the Big C and the S P would make him the wealthiest cattleman for many miles round, and bring the corresponding power. Bardoe would have to be abolished, and Vasco eventually bought or squeezed out. Shadow Valley could be made use of.

  `Might put up a fine house there, if she's keen on the spot,' he muttered. His thoughts went to this woman he had seen but once and desired so desperately. `Beau said she don't care none for the fella, so she won't miss him.' For Nicholas Drait was condemned; he was in the way.

  **

  Despite the fact that the day was young, Jack Gilman lay supine in the shade of the veranda, stretched out in a comfortable chair, feet on the railing, eyes closed and mouth open. He was awakened by a sharp command :

  `Stick 'em up !'

  He came alive instantly, started to obey, and then paused when he saw no weapon threatened him; the man who had given the order was merely regarding him with contemptuous amusement.

  `You'd be easy, wouldn't you?' Cullin said, for he it was. `One o' these days somebody'll take the ranch away from you.' `Not while I got my health,' Gilman grinned. `I had a hard day yestiddy.'

  Cullin got down and stood surveying the range. It pleased him, but the neglected condition of the buildings had the opposite effect. He reached out a cigar, passed one to the foreman, and took a seat.

  `Ol' Sam certainly had an eye for a location,' he remarked. `Well, he was here first, an' it's on'y to be expected he'd get the best. You'll be sorry to leave it.'

  `Leave it--me?' Gilman ejaculated. `What's yore meanin'?'

  Cullin shrugged. `you don't appear to have heard the news. O' course, it ain't known but to a few yet.'

  `Did you come to tell me?'

  `No, just a neighbourly call--I allus had a fancy for this place,' the rancher replied. `I certainly thought Seale would have sent you word.'

  `Word of what?' the foreman snapped. `If that dirty little runt is tryin' to put anythin' over on me....'

  The suspense was putting an edge on his temper as the
visitor intended. He now struck--hard : `There's no question o' that. The lawful owner o' the S P has turned up in the person o' Sam Pavitt's gran'daughter; "Frankie" wasn't a boy after all.'

  He saw the man flinch as from a physical blow, and it gratified his delight in giving pain. But Gilman soon recovered. `A girl, huh?' he said. `That don't mean I gotta go. She'll need someone to manage things, I guess, knowin' nothin' about cattle.'

  `I'm afraid you'll have no guess again,' Cullin said. `You see, the heiress happens to be the girl I told you was residing with Drait. If she wants help....'

  This second blow shook the foreman to his very foundations. `That damned nester,' he exploded, after a stunned silence. `There's on'y one o' that name around here, thank God,' the other replied viciously. `An' he's one too many. By the way, I hear the stock he has in the valley came from the S P. What about it?'

  `If they did, he stole 'em,' Gilman retorted instantly.

  `A hundred head, all without brands?' This incredulously. `Ain't yore riders doin' anythin' for their pay?'

  The foreman lifted his shoulders. `Shouldn't wonder if there's more. I'm short-handed--to keep down expenses--an' with the future o' the ranch in the air, I reckon none of us feels like overworkin'--you wouldn't yoreself.'

  `Possibly, but you'll have some explainin' to do; Drait's no tenderfoot.'

  `Me too; mebbe he'll have some to do first.'

  `O' course, if you could prove he helped hisself to those cows,' Cullin said softly.

  The eyes of the two men met, and the foreman knew that his story was not accepted; he also read the meaning behind Cullin's last remark.

  `Have to consider if somethin' can't be done 'bout that,' he said. `If not, there's other ways.'

  The rancher rose. `It is, o' course, entirely yore affair, but we shall miss you, Gilman.'

  The foreman's sullen gaze watched him cross the open anddisappear among the trees. `Yeah, my affair,' he sneered. `You want him got rid of, an' I'm to do it for you. Mebbe I will, because it suits my hand too, but if I have to start killin', look to yoreself, Cullin, you bastard.'

  Though he failed no divine the malignity he had left behind, the Big C man knew he had not earned any gratitude. Nevertheless, he was satisfied with the morning's work. It was perfectly plain to him that Gilman had been robbing the S P, and pretty certain that Drait already knew, or would soon discover the fact. The removal of the nester therefore became imperative if the foreman was to retain his post, or even his ill-gotten gains. But Cullin was not the type to be content with only one chance in a lottery, and his mind was casting about for a second. It did not take long to decide; Bardoe's animosity towards Drait almost equalled his own.

  From where he was, the route to the 8 B skirted Shadow Valley, and he was only a short distance from nhe entrance when he saw a rider ahead, a slight figure, dressed in grey, which he instantly recognised. Smothering a whoop of exultation, he loped after and soon overtook her. Hat in hand, he ranged alongside.

  `This is certainly my lucky day,' he smiled. `Didn't dream I'd have the pleasure o' seein' you again so soon. Do you often ride this way?'

  She shook her head. `I am venturing outside the valley for the first time.'

  `I hope it won't be the last.'

  For some moments they paced in silence. Thrilled by the nearness of her, the man was content to look, noting the easy grace with which she rode, the delicate colour under the faint tan of her cheeks, the curling tendrils of hair straying from beneath her hat-brim. Mary's eyes, though less searching, had not been entirely idle. Though he wore the garb of the country, she had seen that it was of superior quality, the shirt and neckerchief of silk, and his face newly-shaven. She would have described him as well-dressed, without the flashiness of Beau Lamond. Presently he laughed.

  `Why, I have forgotten to congratulate you.' He saw she did not comprehend. `Upon yore inheritance.' `Oh, that,' she replied, with a tiny frown. `Nothing is settled yet, and I'm sorry it is being talked about.'

  `It isn't. Seale--who is also my lawyer--visited me last evening on business. He seemed very pleased about somethin' an' eventually admitted, in confidence, that it was because he is now in a position to clear up the Pavitt estate, havin' discovered the owner.'

  `I would be much more grateful if he had found me three months ago,' the girl said, and there was an undercurrent in her tone which he could not guess at.

  `I think you will have no more reason to complain on that score,' he assured her. `Seale is under obligation to me, an' I've made it plain that any unnecessary delay in your case will be an unfriendly act to myself.'

  `That was very kind of you, Mister Cullin,' she said warmly. `Not a-tall, just fairness,' he replied, and then smiled. `What does Drait think about yore good fortune?'

  `We haven't discussed it yet,' she answered. `I imagine that, like myself, he prefers to deal with facts.'

  `You have known him long?'

  'No,' she replied shortly, and he did not pursue the subject.

  He offered no protest when she wished to return, but insisted on escorting her.

  They parted at the spot where they had met, and the clasp of her hand made his blood burn. Holding it, he said: `I want you to nhink of me as a friend, one who will always be ready to help you in case of need.'

  Without waiting for any response, he turned abruptly and rode away. For a moment she sat gazing after him, astonished and rather impressed--as he had meant her to be. He did not look back.

  Riding slowly back to Shadow Valley, she vainly endeavoured to arrange her ideas about her late companion. Though he had clearly shown that he admired her, it had not been done with the crude and offensive familiarity of Lamond. She liked him, and yet....

  The Big C man was in no doubt about his feelings--he wanted this woman and would have her, by fair means or foul. What she was to the nester he did not know, but should it prove an obstacle that was just too bad--for Drait. He rode on towards his destination, smiling grimly.

  He was welcomed with some surprise and no great show of amiability, but was invited in and the customary bottle was produced.

  `Well, Greg, you wouldn't come all this way 'less you wanted somethin',' Bardoe began. `Let's have it.'

  `My dear Bull,' the visitor protested mildly, and Bardoe stiffened; Cullin, in a polite mood, was to be suspected. `The pleasure of seein' you ...'

  `Take a good long look an' then gimme the real reason,' the other said sourly.

  `What a doubtin' Thomas you are, Bull,' Cullin smiled. `But there was an item of news I fancied might interest you; the S P is changin' hands.'

  The other's eyes narrowed. Was it a guess, or had something leaked out? `No,' he replied evenly. `The missin' heir has been discovered--Pavitt's grand-daughter.'

  `A gal, after all, huh. How should that interest me?'

  `Jack Gilman'll have to go.'

  `Can't see why--she'll need a foreman.'

  Will she? Nicholas Drait is at present takin' care of her,' Cullen said carelessly.

  Bardoe's eyebrows climbed, his mouth opened ludicrously as this statement sank in. `Are you mad, or am I?' he asked.

  `Probably both of us, but what I've told you is a cold fact.'

  Bull digested this in frowning silence. The girl he had lost was actually the possessor of the S P ranch, and the man who had stolen her--as he put it--was holding her. The shock was a staggering one. If only he--but that would not bear thinking of. Cullin was astonished at the effect of his news; Bull could not be so concerned about the foreman's future.

  `It's tough luck on Gilman,' he remarked.

  `To hell with Gilman,' Bardoe retorted. `It's tough on me.' `Afraid I don't get you.'

  `Listen,' Bull growled. `When Drait tried to bump me off that time up on Table Mesa, I had a gal ridin' behind me. I'd picked her up less'n an hour earlier, fair lost an' pretty well all in. Said she'd stampeded from the place she was workin' an' that she'd no folks an' nowhere to go. I offered her a job as housekeeper at the 8
B, an' she agreed. It warn't no hardship to look at her--young an' fresh, which is how I like 'em.' He leered at his listener. `You know what happened, Drait did a pore job but knocked me out. He took the gal--they were together when my fellas catched him, an' if it hadn't bin for them two strangers--helI burn their bones--she'd 'a' bin fetched back to me. I want her, which is somethin' you wouldn't understand, an' I mean to have her, 'specially now; the S P would suit me fine.'

  It was a tribute to Cullin's faculty of self-control that he was able to present a blank face during this brutal admission. But he had come to find a tool, and if it was keener and more dangerous than he had looked for, so much the better. When the work was done...

  `You'll find Drait a hard nut,' he remarked. I'll expect he'll marry her--now.'

  `All one to me,' Bardoe chuckled. `I don't mind a widow if she's a good-looker.'

  The Big C man emptied his glass. `I wish you luck, Bull,' he said. `Don't try anythin' too raw an' rely on gettin' away with it; Midway is more than a mite doubtful o' Camort, an' the Judge is jumpy. Losin' Gilman an' Vasco, we won't be too strong.'

  `You needn't to worry,' Bardoe grinned. `With that cursed nester attended to an' me in the saddle at the S P, we'll have 'em where's the hair's short.'

  He accompanied his visitor to the door, and sent a satirical grimace after him. `Eggs me on, an' then fobs me off,' he mused. `Well, Mister Cullin, I dunno what yore game is but I'm playin' my own an' may the Devil take you.'

  Cullin, riding with bent head, had plenty to occupy his mind. A bringer of news, he had also learned some. Presently he laughed.

  `He downs Drait, an' we hang him for it,' he said, and this entirely satisfactory solution restored his temper to almost normal. At the Big C he found Lamond awaiting him.

  `Want yore job back? So Drait fired you. Why?'

  `Double-crossin' him, he said, but the real reason was he catched me sparkin' the gal an', believe me, she's worth a risk.'

  `You were lucky; me, I'd a' beefed you,' the rancher said.

  `So would he, but she begged him not to,' Lamond grinned. `Said for me to leave the country, but I'm stayin'; I mean to git him--an' her.'