Chapter Thirteen
AS SUDDEN pulled Midnight to a stop at the crest of yet another rise he realized that the big stallion was tired. He knew that the black would go on until his big heart gave out, but to push him too hard would not only be cruel but downright foolhardy.
‘Man on foot’d last about a day at most in these parts,’ he muttered. ‘Shore is cold.’
He had been investigating each of the canyons that lay in the spur of the mountains, so far without any indication at all that there were any other forms of life up here at all except wild animals. The ground was hard and bare; even if a large herd had been driven across it there would have been only the faintest of tracks.
‘Shore looks like a wild-goose chase, Night,’ he told the horse, and then, with an eye scanning the lowering cloud over the peaks to the west, ‘an’ if we ain’t under cover afore long we’re goin’ to sleep wet tonight.’
The big horse brought his head up sharply as thunder crashed among the peaks. There was a misty, damp feeling in the air that struck to the rider’s bones.
‘If this is mountain livin’, give me the desert every time,’ he shivered. ‘Come on, boy. One more, an’ then we’ll bed down for the night.’
The light was becoming increasingly bad as he headed the horse down the slope and along the floor of yet another of the arroyos. This one looked no different to the many others he had already investigated. The peaks towered ahead, shrouded in grey mist. Once or twice lightning flickered, lighting the mist with sinister colors. On both sides of the rider high hills rose sharply, their outlines vague. He peered ahead disconsolately.
‘Don’t look any better than the others,’ he told himself. Just as he did so, however, a dark shape loomed on his right, then lumbered off into the brush.
The puncher sat erect in the saddle, all traces of weariness disappearing. A broad grin appeared on his face, and he patted the horse, whose ears had perked up in interest.
‘Yu seen him too, did yu?’ Sudden smiled. ‘Best lookin’ cow I seen in many a long day, Night. Let’s take a look-see if he’s got any friends.’
Midnight was a trained cow-pony. It took no more than a touch of his rider’s heels to send him leaping forward after the retreating steer and, within moments, Sudden found himself amid a milling bunch of perhaps thirty or forty cattle.
A quick glance showed him that they carried the Saber brand, and his lips pursed thoughtfully. Pulling his horse’s head around, Sudden headed on up the darkening canyon. The building thunderstorm was casting its pall over the entire area; he could no longer see the mouth of the canyon. Overhead, thunder rolled more regularly.
‘Fixin’ to storm,’ Sudden told himself. ‘I wonder if there’s some kind o’ shelter up here?’
As if in answer to his unspoken question a light sprang into view as he rounded a slight bend in the canyon. He kicked Midnight into a canter, and in a moment could see the outline of a small cabin hulking against the canyon wall. He rode openly towards it, and when he was within a few yards of the house yelled, ‘Hello, the house!’
The door opened, and a bent old figure appeared, peering into the near-darkness.
‘Who’s there?’ demanded a crotchety voice. ‘Who’s there?’
Without answering, Sudden dismounted and led the horse forward. The light in the cabin gave him the advantage, for he could now plainly see that the occupant was an old man, whose graying hair and silvered beard glinted in the lamplight.
‘It’s me – Green,’ the cowboy called. ‘Where can I put the horse?’
‘Tether him in back o’ the cabin,’ called the old man, ‘an’ come in so I can shut this danged door!’
After he had done as he was bid, Sudden went around the house and opened the door. The old man was pottering over a battered old iron stove, and the delicious smell of fresh coffee was strong in the room.
‘Coffee smells good,’ Green observed.
‘It’s fair,’ was the oldster’s comment. ‘I had enough practice.’
The puncher’s eye travelled swiftly over the tiny cabin. It was barely furnished; in one corner were two bunks, one above the other. A table, some chairs, a few rude shelves, and the pot-bellied iron stove were all its furnishings. The only window was boarded up, and the floor was beaten earth, stamped flat by years of use.
The old man was about seventy, Sudden guessed, and if his hands were any indication he had spent many years of his life in manual labor. Sudden risked a guess.
‘Had any luck with yore pannin’?’ he asked.
The old man turned, raising his eyebrows. ‘How’d yu – oh, I suppose Jim told yu. Nope, not much.’
‘Yu reckon yu’ll find somethin’ up in these mountains?’ Sudden continued, playing along with the conversation which, from the old man’s first remark, might lead to something.
‘Got to be,’ the old man said, pouring steaming mugs of coffee for them both. ‘Got to be. I feel it in my bones. Come on, boy, set yoreself down. What yu say yore name was – Green?’
‘That’s it,’ Sudden replied. ‘Jim sets a mite easier.’
‘Jim. Yu both got the same name. Must be confusin’ at times.’
Determined to play this string out until it led somewhere, Sudden said, ‘Ain’t as many times a day as yu’d think. I’m out on the range mostly’
The old man nodded. ‘Used to know a feller named Green in Amarillo. Tom Green. Any relation o’ yourn?’ His old eyes were bright and shrewd in the lamplight over the rim of his coffee cup. Sudden shook his head.
‘I’m from New Mexico,’ he told the old man. ‘This is good coffee.’
The oldster was not to be diverted from his interest as easily as that. ‘I ain’t seen yu afore,’ he said. ‘How come Jim sends yu up here instead o’ Mado?’
‘Mado’s a mite off color,’ Green lied. ‘Yu ain’t the on’y problem Jim’s got.’
The man’s words had confirmed his suspicions; this canyon was a hideout for stolen Saber beef, and Dancy was behind their theft. It was now necessary to discover whether this old man knew of that; if he did, Sudden knew that he was far from being out of danger. The old man nodded at his remark about Dancy.
‘S’pose yo’re right. Saber’s a big spread. Jim often sez to me, “Shorty,” he sez, “you think yourself lucky yu ain’t got my troubles.” ’ He grinned toothlessly. ‘ “All yu do is set here an’ mind cows for me,” he sez. “Yu get yore money an’ yu got no ambitions, ’ceptin’ to find a paylode in these hills.” He’s a great josher, that Jim.’
‘He shore is,’ grinned Sudden, finding himself liking this unpretentious old man. But he had to know the truth. Jim tol’ me to tell yu he was goin’ to ride up here an’ drive these cattle clear to the Army reservation an’ sell ’em. Said to tell yu he’d split fifty-fifty, an’ yu could both retire.’
He watched the old man narrowly as he spoke these words, but Shorty wheezed with laughter, slapping his thigh so hard that dust flew from his ancient corduroys. ‘That Dancy,’ he coughed, ‘he shore is a josher!’ There was absolutely no nuance in his voice, and Sudden was convinced that the old man had no real knowledge of Dancy’s intentions. For some reason he found himself very glad.
‘Yu been in these parts long, Shorty?’ he asked.
‘Twenty years, man an’ boy,’ the old man said proudly. ‘I was here when Lafe Gunnison first come to these parts.’
‘Yu know Gunnison?’
‘Shore I know him. He wouldn’t know me, but I know him. Know his boy, Randy, too. He was up here a while back.’
It was Sudden’s turn to look surprised, and the old man noticed his reaction.
‘That surprise yu, does it?’ he cackled. ‘Surprised me, too! I allus thought Randy was as much use as a fifth wheel on a wagon, but he rode up here with Dancy all the same.’
‘What did he come for?’ asked Green. ‘I thought Dancy handled all the day-to-day chores?’
‘Yo’re danged right,’ said the old man. ‘Told Randy as m
uch. He told me to shet my mouth, mind my own business. Figgered. Allus had a mean mouth, Randy. Anyways, him an’ Dancy was here a coupla hours, then they rode off north. Expect they was headin’ for Riverton.’
Sudden nodded. The revelation that Randolph Gunnison was a party to the theft of the Saber’s cattle was astounding. Could it be that Dancy had razzle-dazzled the rancher’s son? He asked a question of the old man.
‘Friendly? I should smile, they was! Thicker’n flies in a Pawnee camp, those two. More coffee?’
Green held out his cup silently. The involvement of Randolph Gunnison in the thefts now put an entirely different light on his own theories about the troubles in the Yavapai.
‘Randy went to some fancy school back east, didn’t he?’ he asked Shorty.
Fancy school, yep. Back east, nope,’ said the old prospector, succinctly. ‘He went to some place in Santy Fe. That’s a year or two ago, mind.’
‘Shore, I know that,’ Green agreed. ‘He never did spend overmuch time on the Saber, far as I can gather.’
‘Never more than he had to,’ agreed Shorty. ‘Randy likes cards, gals, an’ likker. It’s work he can’t stand, or so they says.’
Outside the cabin the storm broke. Green heard the rain spattering like shot on the tin roof of the shack, and he rose to his feet.
‘I better ‘tend to my hoss,’ he told the old man. Shorty nodded, and the puncher let himself into the driving storm. The rain was coming down now like a solid sheet of water, and lightning flickered over the far peaks, the thunder booming in its wake. Sudden led Midnight across the open space behind the house to a lean-to on the far side of the corral there. Unsaddling the stallion, he rubbed the horse down, telling him. ‘It ain’t the Palace Ho-tel, Night, but yu been in wuss.’
Slapping the glossy haunch, he donned the slicker he had unstrapped from the saddle roll and sloshed his way back through the mud to the cabin, his mind busy with the facts which Shorty had unwittingly revealed.
He opened the door and found himself facing the unwavering muzzle of an old Dragoon Colt; holding it fully cocked was the old man, who was smiling like a cat at a mouse-hole.
‘What’s this about?’ asked Green mildly.
‘Yu ain’t no Saber rider!’ snapped Shorty. Hoist yore paws, mister, an’ start explainin’ yoreself!’
Green grinned, his smile disconcerting the old man.
‘Ease off on that hammer, ol’ timer,’ the cowboy said. ‘Yu might just blow a hole in me afore I got time to reply.’
‘I might jest blow a hole in yu for the hell of it,’ retorted Shorty. ‘An’ I won’t tell yu again! Reach!’
Green raised his arms obligingly, and as he did so, the front of the enveloping slicker rose with them. In that same swift movement the cape caught the menacing barrel of the cap and ball pistol, knocking it upwards. The old man pulled the trigger by reflex, and the shot boomed harmlessly into the ceiling. Before Shorty could recover himself Sudden had seized the revolver and twisted it from the old man’s grasp.
Shorty reeled backwards and then surged forward again, trying ineffectually to land a blow on the tall puncher’s body. Green held the old man off with some difficulty; eventually he exerted his whipcord strength and frog marched the oldster to a chair, where Shorty sat, winded and cursing weakly.
‘Now rest easy a moment,’ Sudden told him. ‘Yo’re due an explanation, an’ I’ll give it to yu. First, I’m a-puttin’ yu on yore word yu won’t try nothin’. Agreed?’
Shorty glared at him defiantly for a moment, and then shrugged. ‘If yo’re aimin’ to steal them cattle, mister, yo’re loony. The Saber’ll track yu down an’ skin yu for a saddle-blanket.’
‘Yo’re probably right,’ Green smiled. ‘Exceptin’ that the Saber don’t know these cattle is up here.’
The old man snorted. ‘Yo’re loco, Green – if that’s yore name!’
Sudden shook his head, and in level tones told the old prospector what had brought him up into the Yavapais, and of his suspicions that the thefts of Saber beef had been engineered to throw suspicion upon the homesteaders. The involvement of Dancy and Randolph Gunnison was plain, but he was unable to pin down the reason for their actions – yet. All this and more he told the old prospector, who sat and listened with first disbelief, then astonishment, and in the end with exclamations of disgust and anger.
‘To think them thievin’ mangy coyotes roped me in on their dirty dealin’s,’ he raged. ‘If Lafe Gunnison’d run on to this canyon he’d a’ hung me higher’n Haman! An’ I wouldn’t’ve stood a chance.’
Green nodded. ‘Dancy an’ Randy Gunnison could’ve easy called yu a liar if yu’d got the chance to name them. The old man’d never believe his son was stealin’ Saber beef.’
The old man let loose another round of imaginative cursing, and then asked, ‘Where do yu fit into all this, Jim?’
‘That’s easy answered,’ Sudden told him. ‘I work for Jake Harris over in the Mesquites.’
‘Them homestead outfits, yu mean?’ the old man asked. When Green nodded affirmatively, Shorty mused, ‘I ain’t never met any o’ them, but if yo’re with ’em I’ll stake my washin’s they’re honest. Yu reckon Dancy an’ Randy been sellin’ Saber beef to these hombres in Riverton?’
Green nodded. ‘It’s got to be that way, Shorty,’ he told the prospector. ‘I still don’t quite see what’s behind it, though. If Dancy steals Saber beef an’ sells it that’s easy to figger: he needs money.’
‘Mebbe Randy Gunnison needs money, too,’ suggested Shorty. ‘He shore gambles heavy.’
‘Could be,’ admitted Green. ‘But I figger his old man’d bail him out. Anyway, puttin’ the blame on the homesteaders could on’y lead to big trouble. It looks like Dancy an’ Gunnison was aimin’ to start range war trouble here, an’ get them nesters off the land they’re on. But why?’
The old man shook his head. ‘Beats me, Jim. I can tell yu one thing: they ain’t no gold nor silver in them hills. I been over ever’ foot o’ them. Not a smidgen’ anyplace.’
They talked for a long while in the flickering lamplight. The old man started reminiscing about the old days in this territory, when a lone white man was easy prey for the Apaches who roamed the hills. He had come out searching for gold or silver as a young man, fallen in love with the country, and stayed.
‘Them bucks near took my hair one time or two,’ he told Sudden, ‘but I allus foxed ’em. Figgered I’d find that pot o’ gold one day. Reckon I will yet. She’s up in these mountains someplace.’
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 Mesquit
es, 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.
Chapter Fourteen
Sudden--Troubleshooter (A Sudden Western) #5 Page 10