Sudden: The Marshal of Lawless

by Oliver Strange

  When at last they reached the ledge Tonia was free of her bonds and Black Feather again an impassive figure of bronze, but he bore himself like a man who has got rid of a burden. It might well be that the slaying of Moraga had wiped away his shame and put him right with himself, his people, and his gods. He would not listen to thanks.

  “No good stay here,” he said. “Some fella get away—bring more.”

  “He’s dead right,” the marshal said. “We’ve done what we came to do, an’ the sooner we punch the breeze the healthier it’ll be for us; we can’t lick all Mexico.”

  Led by the Indian, they descended from the crater rim by a longer but easier route, the one he himself had used. As Green had surmised, Black Feather had known that there was a way up and through the rock, and had guessed that if the fight went against him the guerrilla leader would make a bolt for it, leaving his followers to shift for themselves. When they reached the cabin again the fighting was finished. Renton, his left arm in a sling, hailed their appearance with a shout and hurried forward to greet his young mistress.

  “Shore am glad to see yu again, Miss Tonia,” he said, and to the marshal, “Where’d yu find her? We’ve looked all over.”

  Green gave a brief account of what had happened; the foreman looked wonderingly at the Indian for a moment and then stepped up to him.

  “If yu ever want anythin’, any time, come to the Double S an’ yu get it,” he said. “Shake.”

  The red man took the proffered hand. “Black Feather a chief, yellow dog have him whipped,” he said, as though that explained all, and, from his point of view, it did.

  “Well, I reckon yu’ve done squared the ‘count,” Renton replied, and turned to the marshal.

  “We’ve cleaned up here pretty complete, but a few got clear, an’ I’ve a hunch we oughta be on our way.”

  “The Indian was saying the same. What’s wrong with yore arm?”

  “Fella tried to hide a knife in me an’ got my wing. ‘Bout half a dozen of us is damaged, nothin’ serious. Soon as we’ve fed we better point for the hosses, an’ go back the way we come, huh?”

  The marshal agreed. The known dangers and hardships of the lava desert were preferable to the possibility of bumping into another bunch of bandits.

  CHAPTER XX

  The journey back to Lawless was uneventful. The cowboys, elated by the success of the expedition, endured discomfort with cheerful curses. The grave face of their guide alone gave no sign of satisfaction, though there was a deep content in his heart. He spoke seldom, a wave of the hand serving for words.

  “Like a bloomin’ image, ain’t he?” Rusty said. “But I’ll risk a stack he’s more pleased than any of us; Injuns is plenty deep thataways.”

  But Rusty was wrong—there was a more contented man in the party than even Black Feather. For Andy Bordene, to be riding side by side with the girl he loved and had so nearly lost, turned even the terrible lava desert into a paradise. Together they watched the sun, a blaze of golden flame, drop behind the misty purple hills, and when its red rim peeped above the horizon they were in the saddle again on their way—home. And home—Andy told himself—was soon going to mean very much more to him than it had ever done, now that he had got his ranch back and was free to speak. Nevertheless, though he had plenty of opportunities—for the others, with knowing smiles, left them much to themselves—Andy could not screw up his courage, until they had crossed the Border and were nearing the Box B. They had lagged behind—a not infrequent occurrence—and a bend in the trail hid the rest of the party. Andy suddenly pulled up, and when the girl’s mount instinctively did the same, the young man leaned forward, a look in his eyes which sent the warm blood to her cheeks.

  “Tonia, do yu remember my sayin’ I’d be comin’ to yu for a job some day?” he began, and when she nodded, “the day’s here, an’ I’m askin’. Honey, the job I want is to look after, work for, an’ make Life good for yu always.”

  His voice was low, husky, and revealed a depth of feeling she had never suspected in this gay, irresponsible playmate of her youth. A wave of happiness swept through her; she had long known the answer she must make, but, woman-like, she had to ask a question:

  “Was that the job you were thinking of then, Andy?”

  “Shore thing, Tonia; but I was in a money mess an’ hadn’t the right to speak. Now it’s different. Do yu reckon yu could learn to love me, Tonia?”

  The girl flashed a tremulous little smile at him. “You could have had that job then, Andy—for the asking,” she whispered.

  They were still missing when the rescue party rode up to the ranch-house of the Box B, where, as it was late, they had decided to spend the night. To their surprise, they were greeted by Reuben Sarel, who had ridden over in search of news. He had a jaded, worried expression, which increased when he saw that his niece was not with them.

  “Ain’t yu got her?” he asked.

  “Well, we took her away from Moraga all right, but on the trip back somebody else done stole her again,” Green said solemnly.

  The fat man’s face flushed with anger. “Pretty fine lot o’ fellas yu must be—” he began, and then the errant pair, trotting leisurely, came in sight, and he understood. “Well, I’m damned!

  All right, marshal, that’s a score to yu,” he grinned.

  At the sight of the waiting group, the young couple raced for the ranch-house. Tonia won, and jumping from her saddle, flung her arms impulsively round her uncle’s neck.

  “Well, well, burn me if bein’ stole don’t seem to suit yu,” he said shyly. “I never seen yu look so bonny.”

  “Guess it depends on who does the Stealm’,” Green put in, whereupon the girl got rosier than ever and retreated precipitately to “clean-up.”

  “Come an’ eat, folks,” Sarel suggested. “I wanta hear all about it.”

  In the big living-room the story was told, and Reuben’s eyes lighted when he learned how the guerrilla chief had died.

  “Served the skunk right,” he commented. “I’ve allus regarded Injuns as pizen, but I’m a-goin’ to make an exception; thisyer Black Feather can have my shirt if he wants it.”

  “Which would make two for him and then leave plenty for patching,” Tonia said merrily.

  Her glance rested affectionately on her bulky relation, and she suddenly sobered. “Uncle, you’re not looking well; what’s troubling you?”

  Reuben lifted his hands in surrender and turned to the marshal. “Fact is, I am bothered,” he admitted. “We’re losin’ a lot o’ cows; somebody’s took advantage of our bein’ short-handed to steal us blind, an’ we can’t figure it. Mebbe yu can help us?”

  “If Andy’ll lend me a hoss I’ll look into it to-night,” Green said; and when they protested, he explained: “Waitin’ means losin’ a chance; soon as they know we’re all back, the rustlers will lay over for a spell.” He shook his head at his deputy. “I’m on’y goin’ to snoop around; it’s a one-man job, ol’-timer.”

  The following morning found Andy, Pete, and the Indian—the latter with Nigger on a lead-rope—covering the trail to Lawless, the rancher’s presence being due to an eagerness to conclude his business with the banker. The journey did not add to Pete’s entertainment, for Andy was riding in a world of his own, and Black Feather—for conversational purposes—was a hopeless dawn.

  “I’ll have to get me a parrot,” the deputy said, and then raised a whoop when he saw the marshal waiting for them.

  The newcomer did nothing to add to the gaiety of the party. He looked tired, and having greeted them and transferred his saddle to Nigger, he relapsed into a moody silence, from which he emerged only once, when he noticed Pete peering anxiously around and asked him what he was looking for.

  “The body,” the deputy told him. “Thisyer’s a funeral procession, ain’t it?”

  Their arrival in town brought Seth Raven quick-foot to the marshal’s office. He halted at the door for an instant when he saw Andy, and then came in. His face apeared s
trained, and there was an eagerness in his tone.

  “Yu got the girl—an’ Moraga?” he blurted out.

  “Miss Sarel is on her way to the Double S an’ the Mexican won’t trouble us again,” the marshal replied, and gave a bald recital of the rescue.

  “Yu done a good job; but why waste a cartridge on that coyote? I’d ‘a’ left him there for the buzzards to finish,” Seth said savagely. “What I promised holds good, marshal.”

  “Forget it,” Green replied. “All in the day’s work, Raven. Town behaved itself while we been away?”

  “Middlin’, till last night, an’ then”—he looked at Andy—“the bank was robbed. First we know of it the clerk can’t get in this mornin’. We busts the door an’ find Potter on the floor of his office an’ the place cleaned to a fare-yu-well. Potter has been shot in the head, an’ is as near dead as don’t matter. Looks like Mister Sudden has turned another trick.”

  “Anythin’ to show that?” Green asked.

  “No, ‘cept that I saw a fella on a black hoss tricklin’ outa town mighty early this mornin’,” the saloonkeeper said. “There wasn’t much light, an’ I took it yu were back again, marshal. It’s shore tough luck for yu, Andy.”

  The young rancher, rudely awakened from his dream of happiness, shook himself like a dog. Fate had dealt him another bitter blow, but he was not yet beaten. Nevertheless, there was a tremor in his voice as he said:

  “It’s tougher still on Potter. S’pose the thief didn’t take my mortgage, huh?”

  “It warn’t there, Andy,” Raven said slowly. “As a matter o’ fact, Potter came to me for money an’ made over yore mortgage as security, askin’ me not to say anythin’ till he’d explained to yu. O’ course, I ain’t pressin’ yu, though the bank robbery has hit me considerable.”

  The words did not ring true; try as he might, he could not keep the note of exultation out of his voice. The marshal sensed it, and a bitter smile on the rancher’s lips showed that he too was not deceived. The half-breed turned to Green:

  “Yu bein’ away, I sent to Strade, an’ I hear he’s just come. Reckon you’ll find him at the bank. ‘Pills’ is lookin’ after Potter.”

  “Pills”—known by no other name—was the local medico. A small grey-haired man of perhaps twoscore, with a deeply lined face, he possessed a sharp tongue, which he did not scruple to use. When the saloonkeeper had gone, the marshal turned to Bordene.

  “Keep a stiff upper-lip, Andy,” he said. “Hills ain’t never so steep as they look when you come to climb ‘em. I’m a-goin’ down to see Strade.”

  The Sweetwater sheriff opened the bank door himself. “Come right in, marshal,” he invited. “I hear yu got that Greaser.”

  “Yeah. What do yu make o’ this?”

  “Just nothin’. It’s like when the Sweetwater bank was looted four-five months ago, on’y no one was hurt then, the premises bein’ unoccupied. Yu heard of it?”

  “It fetched me here, bein’ put to my account, though I dunno why.”

  “Stranger on a black hoss with a white face was seen sneakin’ outa town, that’s why.”

  “Huh! Raven says he saw the same thing this mornin’—heard the hoof-beats an’ got up to look: he figured it was me.”

  “Sorta suggests our friend is still busy, don’t it?” Strade mused. ” ‘Lo, doc, how’s yore patient?”

  “Couldn’t be worse, and live,” said the doctor, who had just come from the bedroom at the back to which the injured man had been removed.

  “No chance o’ gettin’ a word out of him, I s’pose?”

  “Don’t talk like a fool, Strade,” Pills snapped. “The shot fractured the back of the skull and it will be a miracle if he opens his eyes again, much less his mouth. If you are looking to him for help, you’d better forget it.”

  He bustled away, and the sheriff’s eyes followed him. “Peppery little beggar, but he knows what he’s talkin’ about,” he said, and added what few facts he had gleaned: Potter had been seen entering the bank soon after ten o’clock; the safe had been opened with the banker’s own keys; a few strangers had visited the town, but their movements were known; no one had noticed the shot, which was not unlikely in Lawless. “In fact, there ain’t a smidgin’ o’ evidence to go on,” Strade concluded.

  The marshal nodded; but his eyes were busy. Slowly they travelled from the ominous stain on the board floor to the books flung hastily from the rifled safe, and back to the desk in the centre of the room. Stooping, he raked beneath this with a ruler, bringing to light a little brass cylinder; it was a used shell, a Colt’s .45, and along one side ran a horizontal scratch.

  “On’y this,” Green said.

  The sheriff whistled. “That cinches it,” he said; “but don’t bring us no nearer; seems to me yu gotta catch this hombre in the act; he’s too damn clever. Got a wad this time too; Raven reckons he’s shy ten thousand hisself. Well, seein’ yo’re in the saddle agin, I’ll be gettin’ back to my lambs. Come over soon an’ have a pow-wow.”

  When the sheriff had gone, Green sat in the banker’s own chair pondering over this latest development. The robbery of the bank was another blow at Bordene, and again the saloonkeeper benefited, if, as the marshal more than suspected, he was scheming to obtain the Box B. A big ledger lying on the floor gave him an idea. He turned up Raven’s account, only to find a credit balance of nearly ten thousand dollars. So that was true. His mind reverted to the envelope Potter had left with him. Had the man feared the visit of the mysterious outlaw who had laid him low, or—He wished he could open it, but Potter was still alive, and his word bound him.

  When he saw Raven later in the evening he made no mention of the empty cartridge he had found. “She’s a blind trail,” he said, “but me an’ Pete’ll have a scout round tomorrow an’ see if we can pick up anythin’.”

  He noted that the half-breed seemed to be in unusually good spirits for a man who had just lost a large sum of money, and the point puzzled him. Andy was not visible, having returned to his ranch.

  The next day was but just born when the marshal, after giving certain instructions to Black Feather, set out with Pete along the western trail. There was a slight breeze and the air, as yet untempered by the rising sun, was like wine. For a mile or so they followed the trail, and then the marshal swung off to the right, heading for Tepee Mountain. His deputy, who had not yet been told the object of the expedition, now put the question.

  “I want to ask the black hoss if he’s been rid lately,” the marshal informed him.

  They found the hidden valley as silent and undisturbed as on the day Green had first seen it. The black horse was there, wild and skittish, but after a short chase they got their ropes on it, permitting a close examination. Both of them noted the absence of saddle-marks.

  “Fat as butter—ain’t been used for weeks,” was Pete’s comment. “What’s that mean?”

  “One o’ two things: either that murderin’ thief has another black hoss cached somewheres, an’ that ain’t likely, or he didn’t need one for the bank play.”

  “Which last makes Raven a plain liar. But why—”

  “The damn business is all ‘whys?’” the marshal interrupted. “P’r’aps we’ll have an answer to one of ‘em tomorrow.”

  Pete waited for an explanation of this remark, but it was not forthcoming.

  CHAPTER XXI

  The arrival of Andy Bordene at the marshal’s office next morning was followed by that of Renton and two of his men. With Green and his deputy they called at the Red Ace. Raven’s eyebrows went up when he saw them.

  “Climb a cayuse an’ come along,” Green said. “Got somethin’ to show yu.”

  The saloonkeeper hesitated for a moment, looking from one to the other. Then he shrugged his shoulders and went for his mount. Five minutes later he was riding beside Bordene, his glance resting speculatively on the leading couple, the marshal and his man. Into his mind a spasm of uneasiness obtruded.

  “Where we goin’, Andy?�
� he enquired.

  “I know as much as yu do,” the young man replied. “Green sent word yestiddy for me to come along. As a shot in the dark I’d say he’s mebbe located the rustlers.”

  “Rustlers?” Raven repeated. “Who’s been losin’ steers?”

  “The Double S—so Reub was sayin’,” Andy told him.

  Raven rode in silence, his face indifferent, but inwardly he was damning the marshal for interfering. As their course took them farther away from the 88 ranch his suspicions evaporated.

  By casual but skilful questioning he got from Andy a more detailed account of the rescue of Tonia, and also a pretty accurate idea of how matters stood with the young couple. Moraga had served him a dirty trick there, he reflected, but it had compensations; the loss of his herd money had utterly crippled the owner of the Box B, putting him in the power of his rival.

  The marshal and his deputy covered the first few miles in silence, and then Pete’s patience was at an end. “Why don’t yu chatter some?” he burst out. “Yu might put a fella wise to what’s doin’.”

  “We’re goin’ to catch a cow-thief or two,” Green replied, and told of a discovery he had made on the night they returned from the Border.

  “What’ll friend Raven say when he sees his men workin’ over the Double S brand?” Pete queried.

  “I’m a heap more interested in what they’re goin’ to say,” the other smiled. “He’s gotta turn ‘em down—cold.”

  The little man slapped his knee in delight. “Somebody’ll have to do some tall lyin’,” he said. “Hope they ain’t takin’ a day off.”

  He was not to be disappointed, for when—less than two hours later—they reached the hidden corral the marshal had happened upon before, the bawl of an enraged steer greeted them.

  From the cover of the brush rimming the basin the visitors watched Jevons and Leeson throw and tie a cow, and then the former took a running iron from the fire and bent over the prostrate beast.

  The pungent smell of burning hair and hide assailed their nostrils. The marshal, watching the half-breed, saw his face pale and then flush.