"You dirty beast!" she cried, her tone tense with passion. "Vamoose, or I'll send you out on a shutter."
For a few seconds the bloodshot, liquor-glazed eyes fought with the flaming black ones, and fell. In the girl's left hand, held steadily at her hip, was a tiny nickel-plated revolver--a toy, a man would have said--but it was sufficiently powerful to take life at such close range. Without another word the drunkard turned and staggered weavingly from the saloon. When Mrs. Lavigne returned to her place behind the bar her look at the puncher was defiant, as though she dared him to criticize her action.
"I won't stand for that sort of thing here," she said.
"Yu shore have nerve, ma'am," Sudden said, and meant it. His admiration brought the smile back to her lips.
"Pooh! He knew the boys would blow him to bits if he laid a finger on me," she pointed out.
"Fella in that state is liable to act without thinkin'," he said, and then, "For a tenderfoot, yu got that gun out pretty pronto."
"I was born and bred in the West," she explained, and when he smilingly suggested that she had lost a customer, shrugged her dainty shoulders.
"He'll be in to-morrow to beg my pardon," she told him confidently. "Liquor, if he takes enough of it, will make a fool of any man."
"An' yet yu sell it," he said, and was immediately sorry when he noted the tiny furrow between her brows.
"Someone else would if I didn't, and I have to live," she retorted, and then the even white teeth shut down on a single word, "Damnation!"
A newcomer had entered the saloon, a tall, dark man, carefully dressed in cowboy costume and wearing two guns. Though this was the first time he had seen him, Sudden knew this must be Kingley Burdette. With a condescending nod here and there, the fresh arrival strode to the bar and swept off his hat so elaborately as to make the gesture a mockery.
"Evenin' honeybird. Who's been rufflin' yore pretty plumage?" was his familiar greeting, and then, without waiting for a reply, "Gosh, but I'm thirsty."
"Ted will serve you," she said coldly, and beckoned to the bar-tender.
"He will not," Burdette answered. "A drink poured by yore fair hands will taste ten times nicer than one from Ted's paws, which, though doubtless useful, are far from ornamental."
"As you will," she said indifferently, and filled a glass.
"Here's how, carissima," he toasted. His eyes dwelt possessively upon her and then travelled to the cowpuncher?" "Yo're Green, I reckon; I wanted to see yu."
"Yo're King Burdette, I reckon; take a good look," Sudden mimicked, in the same insolent tone the other had used.
"I hear yo're huntin' a job," Burdette went on, and the sneer was very palpable.
"Someone's been stringin' yu--I ain't doin' no such thing," the puncher replied.
"Well, it don't matter, but Luce havin' cut adrift from the Circle B I could use another rider," King said carelessly. "When yu get tired a' washin' dirt yu might look me up."
Sudden smiled sardonically; the patronizing air both galled and amused him. He struck back. "Mebbe I will, but I warn yu I'm shy o' practice with a runnin' iron."
He saw the blood show redly in the sallow cheeks and the dark eyes narrow to pin-points. Burdette's voice now had an edge on it.
"Meanin'?"
"Just what I said. Dessay I could change a C P into a Circle B--it's an easy play. See yu later--mebbe."
He lifted his hat to Mrs. Lavigne, nodded casually to Burdette, and went out. The Circle B man stared after him, perplexed and scowling.
"Fresh fella, huh?" he growled. "What the hell was he drivin' at? An' where does the C P come in?"
"He's riding for Purdie," Lu Lavigne pointed out.
"The devil he is," King said, and his frown was darker. "Damn him, he was laughin' at me." He glanced up and found that the puncher was not the only one to take such a liberty; there was a demure twinkle in the girl's eyes; she was avenging herself for his insolence in the presence of a stranger.
"Tickles yu, does it?" he sneered. "Think yu got another admirer? Forget it. When he's been at the C Pa day or so an' met Nan Purdie he won't give yu a second thought. She's growed up, that kid, without anybody noticin', an' I'm tellin' yu, she's the prettiest bit o' stuff this side o' the Mississippi. Add too, with Kit outa the way that she'll get the C P, an' is good, an' yu can reckon up yore chances."
The colour flamed in her face at the coarse, insulting speech. She knew that he was payin' her back--that he meant to hurt--he was that kind of man. When possessed by passion he was ruthless, hard, ridden by the bitter temper he could usually control.
"You brute," she raged. "I hate you!"
"No, yu love me, little tiger-cat," he smiled, content that the lash of his tongue had stung her. "Though at the moment I do believe yu'd like to stick a knife in me. Now Nan Purdie would never think o' doin' that."
"Damn Nan Purdie, and you," she stormed. "She's welcome to you if she can swallow the murder of her brother."
King laughed lightly; he was in a good humour again now that he had made her angry. "An unfortunate incident," he said. "The Circle B has made its position clear by turnin' Luce adrift an' disownin' him. If Purdie forces trouble it'll be his own--funeral."
Though his lips smiled there was a sinister emphasis on the last word, and the girl's eyes sought his in an endeavour to read the truth, but learned nothing. Then, as he looked at her, his ill-temper seemed to vanish like a storm from a summer sky. Leaning across the bar, he whispered tenderly:
"Come, sweetness, we mustn't quarrel. I'm sorry I hurt yu, but it was yore own fault--yu didn't oughta waste those star-like eyes on no-'count punchers."
Lu Lavigne was used to these sudden changes; the warmth in the pleading voice, the devotion in the dark eyes, were no new things to her, and yet she allowed herself to be persuaded by them; jealousy is a potent advocate with a woman. But vanity demanded a small victory.
"You said--Nan Purdie--was prettier," she pouted.
"Shucks, Lu, I didn't mean that," the other protested. "Yu got me goin'. She's a good-looker, shore enough, but too pussy-kitten for my taste."
"Even with the C P thrown in?" she asked with a tremulous smile.
"Yeah, even then," he replied, and his voice became harsh again. "Listen to me, girl. If I want the C P ranch I'll take it, an' without any apron-strings tied to it. Sabe?"
He swallowed another drink, and refusing several invitations to join in a game, went out of the saloon. The eyes of the woman behind the bar followed him, and had he been able to read their expression rightly, he might not have felt quite so pleased with himself.
On leaving "The Plaza," Sudden went to the hotel, where he found Luce Burdette, moping alone in his room. The young man welcomed him eagerly; he was finding the part of a pariah a bitter one to play.
"I'm damn glad to see yu, Green," he said. "Ain't got no news, I s'pose?"
"I have, sort of, but let's hear yore's first," the visitor replied.
"I've nothin' fresh to tell yu," Luce returned despondently. "I've been all over the ground, an' it happened like yu said. Two fellas was firm' at Kit, an' one of 'em holds him while the other injuns round an' drills him from behind. Couldn't follow their tracks, they'd took care o' that. Found some .38 an' .44 shells where they cut down on him first, an' that's the sum total."
"Where'd yu happen to be yesterday afternoon.?"
"Right here in town."
"An' yore hoss is a grey an' ain't shy a nail on the off fore?"
"Silver is a grey, an' the on'y hoss I possess. Weldon shod him all over las' week."
"That means there's another fella in these parts who uses a .38 rifle an' rides a paint hoss with a nail missin' in the off fore," Sudden said, and told of the attempt on Strip Levens.
"There's paints a-plenty, an' nails can be replaced," Luce commented hopelessly. "We gotta find that gun."
"Keep a-smilin'; we'll do it," the C P foreman said.
Chapter VIII
A WEEK slipped quietly
by, and Sudden found himself settling down at the C P. He liked Purdie, liked the men he had to work with, and the companionship of his old friend, Yago, meant much to one who, for the last year or two, had lived the semi-solitary life of the wanderer. Convinced that the Burdettes meant mischief, and uncertain what form it would take, he had been constantly on the alert and had not visited the town. Luce, he knew, was still about, and must be having a lonely time, for the fact that he had been driven away from the Circle B, and was being ignored by his three brothers, convinced most of the citizens of his guilt. It was Nan Purdie who put it in the foreman's mind to ride into Windy. Meeting him on her way to the corral, she put a plain question :
"Have you heard anything of Luce Burdette, Mister Green?"
He told her what he knew, and added, "Seems kinda hard when nothin's been proved."
"It is cruel," the girl said hotly. "Even his own brothers condemn him--the cowards. The Burdettes are bad, root and branch, but Luce is--different."
She made a very pretty picture, her face flushed and her eyes flashing with indignation. The foreman smiled sardonically at the reflection that, after all, perhaps Luce was not so much to be pitied. All he said, however, was, "I reckon yo're right, ma'am; the Circle B has some reason for pinnin' the deed on Luce. I'll be in town this afternoon; mebbe I'll see him."
Her eyes thanked him, and as she went away the foreman's gaze followed the trim, shapely figure speculatively.
"Must be kinda nice to have a pretty girl that concerned about yu," he mused, and then, savagely, "Come alive, yu idjut."
When, late in the afternoon, he reached Windy, he found the place bubbling with excitement over a new outrage. Goldy Evans, a prospector, had been struck down on his way back to town, and robbed of about a thousand dollars in dust. Goldy's claim was situated on the lower slope of the southern wall of the valley. His story was that, having worked all day, he started to trudge the three miles home. The trail, which he had made himself by his daily journey, passed through a narrow rift in the rock.
"It's damned dark in that gully," the robbed man had explained when he told his tale. "The blame' walls near meet overhead, an' I was no more than in it when I thought they'd fell on me. Dunno how long I was out, but the sun warn't much lower when I come to. My belt was gone an' my head felt like someone had parted my hair with an axe."
"An' I'm tellin' yu, Goldy warn't on'y sore in the head," continued the citizen who had supplied Sudden with the news. "He's lost a hefty stake, but there's a chance he'll git it back."
"Did he see the fella?" the foreman asked.
"Reckon so," was the reply. "Goldy staggered along through the gully, an' when he reaches the open, he sees a chap on a grey hoss ridin' lickety-split for town. He was over a mile away, but Goldy says it was Luce Burdette. Him an' the marshal is up at the hotel now."
"Guess I'll trail along an' see what's doin'," Sudden said casually.
In the parlour of the hotel he found Luce, Slype, a red-faced, angry-looking fellow whose head was bandaged, and a crowd of curious onlookers. The accused man was glaring at them defiantly. On the table lay his six-shooter, a small doe-skin bag, and various other articles. Evidently he had been disarmed and searched.
"I ain't denyin' I was up that way this afternoon, an' I dessay it was me Evans saw," Luce was saying as Sudden elbowed his way into the room.
"What was yu doin' around there?" Slype asked.
"Mindin' my own business," snapped the boy.
"How'd yu git that dust?" growled Evans, pointing to the bag on the table.
"Worked for it," Luce replied. "I've been diggin' myself."
"Yeah, in my belt," sneered the miner. "An' I s'pose yu got a hole in the ground all ready to show us?"
"I reckon it's an open an' shut case, Luce," the marshal said. "Better come clean an' tell us where yu cached the rest o' the plunder."
"I tell yu I never had it--that dust is mine," the youth said savagely.
"Yo're sayin' so don't prove nothin'," the officer retorted. "I'm a-goin' to take yu in."
"Hold on, marshal," Sudden interposed, and turned to Evans. "Did all the dust in yore belt come outa the claim yo're workin'?"
The man nodded sullenly.
"Got any more of it on yu?" the cow-puncher continued.
Goldy dug down into his pocket and produced a little leathern sack--his "poke". "What I took out today--kept it for spendin'," he explained, and with an ugly look at Luce, "Yu missed that, didn't yu?"
"What's the big idea?" Slype inquired.
"Just this, marshal," the C P foreman replied. "I've heard old miners say that gold dust varies considerable, even when it comes from the same locality. P'raps there's someone here who can speak to that?"
A shrivelled, bent man of over sixty, dressed in patched, nondescript garments, thrust through the crowd. Out of his lined, leathery face the small eyes still gleamed brightly. In a high, cracked voice which was not improved by the quid of tobacco he was chewing, he corroborated the puncher's statement.
"I c'n see what the young fella's drivin' at, an' he's dead right, marshal; any old `Forty-niner' could tell yu as much. If the dust in them two pokes ain't exactly sim'lar, Luce didn't slug Evans, an' yu c'n bet a stack on it. Lemme look at 'em."
The marshal scowled, but he could not refuse the test. Two sheets of paper were brought and, amidst breathless silence, the old miner poured a little of the dust from each poke and bent over the tiny heaps. Then in turn he took a pinch from each and rolled the particles between his gnarled finger and thumb. Straightening up, he looked round triumphantly.
"They ain't noways the same," he announced confidently. "Goldy's dust is coarser in grain an' a mite darker in colour. Reckon any o' yu c'n see it for yoreselves."
The spectators surged forward to look; not that for a moment they doubted the decision of this old man who had spent nearly the whole of his life in the service of the god of Gold, and who, even now, looked at and handled the shining atoms as though they were indeed worthy of worship. Even Slype, disgruntled as he was at the destruction of what he had regarded as convincing evidence, knew that he must bow to the expert. What "California" did not know about gold had yet to be discovered. But the marshal was a poor loser.
"Well, that seemin'ly lets yu out, Luce," he remarked. "But I ain't right shore allasame, an' I'm keepin' an eye on yu."
"Keep both on an' be damned," the young man told him, and gathering up his belongings, pushed his way through the crowd and went to his own room.
Sudden found him there a little later, hunched in a chair, his face buried in his hands.
"Brace up, boy," he said. "That's one frame-up didn't come off, anyways."
"Thanks to yu," Luce replied. "Yu figure it was fixed?"
"Looks thataway. It warn't yu Evans saw, was it?"
"Might 'a' been, but I fancy I was further up the valley at the time, an' I didn't hurry."
"Then the jasper who did it has a grey hoss an' was careful not to show hisself till he was far enough off to be mistook for yu. Who do yu guess is back of it?"
"King--my own brother," Luce said bitterly. "He swore he'd hound me outa the country, an' I might as well clear --I ain't got a friend in it."
"Shucks, I know of two," the puncher smiled, and the boy was instantly contrite.
"I'm right sorry, Green; I oughta remembered yu, but I shore can't place the other," he said.
"Some fellas would be satisfied with Nan Purdie's friendship alone," Sudden told him.
Burdette's face lighted up. "She still believes in me?" he asked. "How is she?"
"Well, I gotta admit she's lookin' a mite peaky," the C P man said, and grinned understandingly at the other's expression of his regret. "Yeah, yu look as grieved as if yu'd filled a straight flush," he bantered. "Now, yu cut out this runnin' away chatter. Yo're playin' in tough luck just now, but yu'll make the grade."
His confidence was infectious and, despite his despair, Luce found himself hoping again. There was
a new decision in his voice when he said: "Yo're right, Green. I'll stay an' take my medicine."
The rays of the rising sun were invading the misty hollows of the foothills around the base of Old Stormy when a rider loped leisurely up the trail and pulled his mount to a stop in front of the C P ranch-house. At the sight of the girl lazily swinging in a hammock on the verandah a look of mingled admiration and satisfaction gleamed in his eyes. He swept off his broad-brimmed hat and bowed low over his horse's mane as she descended hastily but gracefully from her perch, staring at him in amazed surprise. Still holding his hat, he surveyed her slowly from head to foot, and something in his eyes sent the hot blood to her face and neck.
"My word, yu've growed up into a mighty han'some woman, Nan," he said, and there was a caress in his tone.
"Miss Purdie, please," Nan retorted, and then, "I presume you didn't ride up here to pay me compliments?"
King Burdette laughed. "No one couldn't blame me if I did--there's plenty excuse," he said. "Why, when yu were a little tad of a school-kid, yu used to think a lot o' me."
It was true, though she had never suspected that he knew. Years back, when she was in her early teens, this dashing, spectacular young rider had figured largely in her dreams, though the two families were by no means friendly. She had, as a young girl will, made a hero of him. But, as time went on, stories of King Burdette filtered through and dispelled her childish illusions. She came to know him for what he was, handsome undoubtedly, but utterly without principle. Yet, as he sat there easily in his saddle, his lazy eyes drinking in her beauty, she was conscious of his fascination, and fought against it. Her voice was studiously cold when she spoke :
"I'm still waiting to hear the object of your visit, Mister Burdette."
"Shucks! Come outa the ice-box, Nan," King laughed, and seeing that her face did not change, he added, "Oh, well, is yore dad around? I wanta see him."
"Really?" she said with mild sarcasm. "Has it occurred to you that he may not share that desire?"
Burdette smiled to himself. "Beauty, brains, an' spirit," he reflected. "I gotta hand it to yu, Luce, but she's for yore betters." Aloud he said, "Please tell him I'm here, Miss Purdie; if he's got any sense, he'll see me."
Sudden (1933) Page 7