Sudden: The Marshal of Lawless

by Oliver Strange

  “Come to pay back that five hundred?” Raven asked sneeringly.

  The taunt did not have the effect he intended, for the gambler achieved the nearest he could to a smile. “Yeah,” he said. “What I gotta tell yu oughta be worth that—an’ more.”

  “I’m the judge o’ that,” was the retort. “Spill it.”

  Pardoe placed his hat on the desk, sat down, and helped himself to a cigar. When he had lighted it to his satisfaction he said coolly:

  “The marshal ain’t no particular pet o’ yores, is he?”

  “I hate him,” the half-breed hissed.

  “Seen him visitin’ the sheriff in Sweetwater to-day,” Pardoe went on. “Yu send him there?”

  “No,” snapped the other. “But I’m goin’ to send him to visit the Devil one day.”

  The gambler grinned. “Odd that. I had the same idea—waited for him on the back trail, but I missed him. He’s shore lucky.”

  “Lucky? You musta been drunk,” Raven said angrily. And then, as another phase of the incident struck him, “What yu wanta plug him for?”

  “Don’t like the jigger, for one thing, an’ yu can add to that he’s holdin’ down a job I could fill pretty comfortable my own self,” Pardoe explained.

  “It ain’t one for folk as miss,” the half-breed sneered. “An’ seein’ yu did, there’s no vacancy.”

  The biting tone left the other unmoved; he was sure of his triumph. “There will be soon,” he said quietly. “See here, Seth; the whole blame’ country will have the laugh on Lawless when what I’ve found out in Sweetwater to-day gets around; the marshal has shore run a raw blazer on yu an’ this township. Do I git his job if I wise yu up?” Raven nodded, and the gambler went on:

  “Do yu know what they call yore marshal over to Texas?”

  “How the hell should I?” Raven enquired.

  Pardoe laughed maliciously. “Yu wouldn’t, o’ course. Well, he’s known there as ‘Sudden,’ the outlaw.”

  The half-breed sprang to his feet. “What?” he cried, and, with an incredulous shrug, “Yu been feedin’ on loco-weed, ain’t yu?”

  “It’s true enough,” Pardoe assured him, and told how he had come by the information.

  “Mebbe she’s mistook,” Raven doubted, but his eyes glistened with satisfaction.

  The gambler shook his head. “She ain’t; I remember him myself now. Knowed I’d seen him afore, but couldn’t fix him. No, sir, he’s the one an’ only original Sudden, an’ yu may lay to it.”

  The phrase brought a half-grin to Raven’s face, and a point to decide. Pardoe did not know that since the marshal was undoubtedly in Lawless when the stage was robbed there must be a second “Sudden” in the field. This was the reason for his enmity—he believed Green had stolen his money, and it suited the saloonkeeper that he should go on thinking so.

  “We’ve got him—cold,” the saloonkeeper exulted. “Thisyer town will stand up on its hindlegs an’ howl when it learns how he’s razzle-dazzled it, an’ it’ll howl for blood too.”

  “One thing, he couldn’t ‘a’ done the bank job,” Pardoe said.

  Raven laughed aloud. “He could, an’, by God! I believe he did,” he cried. “If not, why didn’t he stay with the rest of ‘em at the Box B that night?”

  “It’ll be a shock for Strade.”

  “Yo’re shoutin’—an’ for some others. I reckon Lawless will take notice when I speak, after this.”

  “Yu’ll be a big man, Seth,” the gambler offered, a shade of envy in his tone.

  “Yu betcha,” the saloonkeeper agreed. “Things is comin’ my way, Pardoe, an’ I shan’t forget anyone what helped me. Now yu keep this strictly behind yore teeth for now. We’re holdin’ a winnin’ hand; I gotta think out the best way to play it.”

  “I reckon yo’re just as pleased I missed him, Seth?”

  “Pleased, Parson?” Raven repeated. “If yu’d wiped him out I’d never ‘a’ forgiven yu. Death thataway ain’t nothin’. It’s when yo’re young an’ strong, full o’ the lust of life, an’ yu have to wait for the moment yu know it’ll be taken from you… An’ that ain’t no dream—now,” Seth returned. “But keep yore face closed. Sabe?”

  The Parson nodded and went out. When the door had closed behind him the saloonkeeper gave free rein to his exultation.

  “Yu were the one card I wanted to fill my hand, Mister Sudden, or Green, or whatever yore damn name is,” he cried.

  “With yu cinched, I’ve got the rest of ‘em like this.” He spread out his hand, closing the talon-like fingers slowly. “Gotta get busy,” he went on. “To start with, we’ll sent for Strade; I’ll enjoy givin’ him a jolt.” He scribbled a note to the sheriff and went in search of a messenger.

  In the middle of the night the marshal and his deputy suddenly awakened to find the room full of men. By the light of a lantern someone was holding aloft, they could see that the intruders were Raven, The Parson, and a number of the “hardest” denizens of the town. Every man of them, save the saloonkeeper, had his gun out, and the expressions on the scowling faces showed that the threat was no vain one. Green sat up, making no attempt to reach his weapons.

  “What’s the trouble, Raven? Yu wantin’ me?” he asked coolly.

  “Not now—we got yu,” the half-breed jeered. “Reach for the roof, both o’ yu, an’ keep on doin’ it.”

  Realizing that they had no option, the two men obeyed. The marshal had no idea what it all meant, but he saw that, for the moment, he was powerless; Seth Raven held the cards. “If this is a joke—” he began.

  The harsh merriment of the other stopped him. “Yu got it,” Raven said. “Just a little joke to square off for the one yu plastered on this town; on’y the last laugh is the best, an’ we’re goin’ to have that. Git their guns an’ search out that damn redskin.” This to his followers.

  “That’s no way to speak o’ yore relations,” Pete put in.

  For an instant Raven’s eyes glared murder, and then, with a tremendous effort of will, he regained control of himself.

  “An’ hang him when yu find him,” he ordered.

  Two of the men searched the place and returned with the news that the Indian was not to be found. Raven turned savagely on Pete.

  “Where is he?”

  The plump little puncher grinned cheerfully as he replied, “Yore guess is as good as mine, brother; he was in the shack when we turned in, so he musta lit out when yu come. P’r’aps he don’t like mongrels any more’n we do.”

  This second reminder of his ignoble origin brought the fury back into the half-breed’s face, and his voice was pregnant with it:

  “Yu’ll pay for that tomorrow—pay in full. I’ll make yu wish yu’d never been born.”

  “Shucks! that’s somethin’ you can’t do,” the deputy returned easily. “Whatever happens tomorrow, I’ve had a middlin’ good time up to now.”

  Raven stalked to the door.

  “Watch the place all round, an’ if they try to git out shoot ‘em down,” he ordered.

  When they were alone again, Pete rolled and lighted a smoke. “What’s at the back o’ this caper, Jim?” he asked.

  “Haven’t a notion,” the marshal replied. “Whyfor must yu go baitin’ him an’ get yoreself in bad? It’s my hair he’s after.”

  “Hell, I ain’t takin’ no backwash from trash like him,” the little man responded. “An’ when I throw in with a fella it’s to the finish.”

  “Yo’re several sorts o’ a damn fool, but—I’m thankin’ yu,” Green told him.

  “Yu reckon they’re goin’ to hang us?” the deputy asked.

  “Well, Raven’s natural instincts would suggest somethin’ more lingerin’, but I doubt if even the roughnecks o’ Lawless would stand for torture, so he’ll string us up the stupidest way,”

  Green said, and added: “Well, I’m a-goin’ to hit the hay; looks like we’re in for a busy day.”

  In a little while his steady breathing showed that he was asleep. Pete
was not so fortunate; for an hour he lay staring into the darkness, thinking of what was to come.

  “He’s the coolest cuss I ever met up with,” he muttered. “Wonder where than damn Injun slid to? Bet he’s workin’ sixty minits to the hour; he don’t like Raven neither.”

  He stole to the window and peered out. In the faint, diffused light of the stars he could see the blurred form of a man, carrying a rifle, pacing slowly to and fro. Presently another joined him.

  Pete knew the men: toughs, both of them, belonging to that mysterious portion of the community the members of which never appeared to work but always had money for drink and cards.

  “Pete,” came a whisper.

  The deputy spun round to find Green sitting up, and standing near was the familiar form of Black Feather. The Indian, it appeared, divining that Raven and his men spelt trouble, had slipped out of the window of. the kitchen, and, finding the place surrounded, climbed to the flat roof of the shack. As soon as the coast was comparatively clear he had dropped on one of the guards, knocked him senseless with his gun-butt, and re-entered the building.

  “Good work. Black Feather heap big chief,” Pete commented. “What do we do now, Jim?”

  “Go out the way he come in, get out hosses, an’ head for the Box B,” the marshal decided.

  According to the redskin, there were only four guards. The one on the kitchen side had already been disposed of; the man at the back was their danger. The marshal devised a plan.

  Cautioning the others to await his signal, he climbed out and helped himself to the revolver off the still form lying in the shadow of the wall. Then he walked towards the rear of the building. In a few moments a man appeared dimly in the gloom, approaching him.

  “All quiet, yore side?” the stranger queried.

  The voice told the marshal who it was. “Shore, Parson,” he mumbled. “There’s on’y one thing—”

  “What’s that?” asked the other, and came closer.

  The moment he was near enough the marshal leapt, his fingers closing round the man’s throat and choking the cry of alarm before it was born. The steady, strangling pressure soon reduced the victim to helplessness and a tap from the marshal’s pistol-barrel tumbled him, a limp heap, to the ground. His sombrero deadened both, the noise and force of the blow, but Pardoe would be harmless for some time. Having ascertained this, and collected the fallen man’s belt, which to his great content he found to be his own, the marshal gave the signal. Silently they stole to the Red Ace corral, secured their horses, and started for the Box B. When they were safely on their way Pete emitted a chuckle.

  “I’m bettin’ that Raven person will be a good one to steer clear of to-day,” he opined.

  In the pale light of the dawn Green looked at the little man and laughed. “Sorry you feel like that, Tubby,” he said. “We’re goin’ to see him.” Then, noting the other’s bewilderment, he added, “Did yu allow I’d run away?”

  “Huh!” Pete snorted. “I claim to be as plucky as the next fella, but I’d run from a rope every time. Dancin’ on nothin’ never did strike me as humorsome.”

  “Mebbe Raven’ll reconsider them projects if we go back with the Box B an’ Double S outfits behind us,” Green suggested.

  “Make a difference, o’ course,” Pete admitted. “But there’s a jag o’ men in that town.”

  “Some of ‘em friends of ourn,” the marshal reminded.

  The deputy subsided, but he was not satisfied; it seemed to him nothing short of madness to go back to Lawless, and when they reached the Box B he again protested, only to find Andy on the marshal’s side.

  “Shore we’ll go with yu,” the rancher cried. “That bird is flyin’ too high an’ it’s time his pin-feathers was trimmed. Hey, Rusty, round up some o’ the boys, an’ tell ‘em to come loaded for trouble.”

  During breakfast Andy got the whole story of the previous day’s happenings, and his face grew stormy when he heard of the hold Raven claimed to have on the Double S.

  “Throw Tonia out, will he, the dirty hound? Not while I can pull a trigger,” he growled.

  “I’m obliged to yu again, marshal, but I wish yu’d broken his damned neck.”

  Accompanied by Rusty and half a dozen well-armed riders, they made for the Double S, and since they wasted no time on the trip, they arrived before the men had dispersed to their different duties. Tonia met them at the door with a look of relief which her first words explained.

  “When I saw you in the distance I thought it was that man coming to turn us out,” she said.

  “We’re goin’ to turn him out, or, anyways, show him where he gets off,” Andy told her grimly, and related what had happened to the marshal. “We thought Renton an’ some o’ yore boys might like to come along.”

  “Yu bet they will, an’ I’ll make another,” bellowed Reuben Sarel from the veranda, adding, to a passing cowboy, “Yu, Lafe, push them broncs in the buckboard an’ send Renton here.”

  The foreman made no comment when he heard the story, but his lips clamped in a hard line as he turned away, and when he reappeared six riders followed him.

  “Gotta leave the rest to look after things an’ Miss Tonia,” he explained.

  “You needn’t worry about Miss Tonia—she’s going too,” his mistress announced calmly, and shook a pretty but obstinate head to all their protests. “It is partly on my account that you are going,” she pointed out. “Some of you may get hurt and then I’ll be of use.”

  She was looking at Andy as she spoke, and that settled the matter so far as he was concerned. The marshal clinched it by deciding that she would be as safe with them as anywhere else.

  They set out at once, the buckboard leading, with Green beside it, followed by Andy and Tonia, with the rest of the party strung out behind. The cowboys had not the whole of the story, but they knew that Raven was trying to get their respective ranches, and that was enough; whether he had any claim to them was beside the question; they were loyal to their owners, and they did not like the saloonkeeper. Therefore they rode gaily on an errand which might mean death for any one of them, but beneath their banter was a note of stern purpose.

  “Reckon we’ll put a light to the Red Ace an’ chase that bastard redskin back to his wigwam,” Rusty remarked.

  “Shucks! Ain’t there no trees in Lawless?” drawled a Double S man, whose deliberation in speech and movement had long ago earned him a nickname.

  “Good for yu, Lightnin’,” approved another. “I dunno what the marshal aims to do, but I’m with him, all the way.”

  Truth to tell, the marshal did not know himself, and confessed as much when Sarel put the question.

  “I’m guessin’ that arrestin’ Pete an’ me last night was just a bluff, an’ I’m goin’ to call it,” he said. “It’ll be a showdown, an’ I ain’t ready, but he’s forced my hand.”

  “Seth’s crookeder than a cow’s hindleg,” Sarel observed. “He’s had me by the short hair a long time past, but now I ain’t carin’ providin’ Tonia don’t suffer.”

  The marshal nodded. He had a fairly accurate idea of what the other was referring to, and he looked at him with a newborn respect. There was something of his more virile brother in the fat man after all.

  CHAPTER XXV

  They arrived at Lawless to find the street empty save for a few loafers outside the Red Ace. One of these dived headlong into the saloon at the sight of them.

  Andy, the girl, and Green rode on to Durley’s and met the proprietor of the Rest House at the door. His eyebrows rose at the sight of them.

  “The old girl’ll be pleased to death to see yu, miss,” he said to Tonia, and when she had gone into the house, “Ain’t tired o’ life, are you, marshal?”

  “Not that yu’d notice,” the officer replied carelessly. “Why?”

  Durley spat in disgust. “Yu must be—to come back,” he retorted. “Raven’s as mad as a teased tarantula, an’ he’s turned most o’ the town agin yu. Claims to have got the goods on yu fo
r fair, though I dunno how. There’s a meetin’ at the Red Ace right now to elect that runt Pardoe as marshal, and show yu up.”

  “We ain’t been invited, but I think we oughta attend, Andy,” the marshal said gravely, but the little crinkles at the corners of his eyes were well in evidence. “Our friends will shore expect it.”

  “Yu won’t meet many there. Raven’s got the riff-raff o’ the place; the decent men are stayin’ away,” Durley told him.

  “I’m takin’ friends with me,” the marshal said, nodding to the waiting group of riders.

  “Round up some o’ them decent men an’ fetch ‘em along, ol’-timer.”

  Durley hurried off as Tonia reappeared for a last word with her lover.

  “You’ll be careful, Andy, won’t you?” she whispered. “Remember that you belong to me now.”

  “That’s somethin’ I ain’t never goin’ to forget, honey,” the young man said. “Don’t yu worry.”

  At which masculine comfort she smiled bravely and went in to do just what he had told her not to do, as a woman will.

  The loungers outside the Red Ace watched curiously as the marshal and his followers tied their mounts and entered. The bar was deserted save for its custodian; with a sour sneer he watched them file through the opening into the other room.

  Between forty and fifty men were congregated in the dance-hall, lounging on the benches which lined the walls, and the marshal saw at a glance that the better element in the town was not represented. Freighters, prospectors, gamblers, owners or workers in smaller saloons, with a sprinkling of Mexicans, most of them had little to lose and would be ready for anything which promised excitement and possible gain. There were several he failed to recognize, tough-looking fellows whose presence he did not understand until he saw the leering countenance of Leeson; no doubt the rustler had recruited and brought them in, probably from Tepee Mountain. On the little platform facing the door, with its worn-out piano and chairs for any other musicians who might be available, Raven was sitting. By his side was Pardoe, his head bandaged, and grouped near were half a dozen of the 88 riders. To the left of the door was an unoccupied space which the newcomers promptly took possession of. The marshal nodded nonchalantly to the gathering.