Sudden (1933)

by Oliver Strange

  She shrugged impatient shoulders. "I ride towards Old Stormy nearly every morning," she told him.

  "I'll shore remember," he grinned. "Mebbe yore bronc will get away from yu again, an' li'l Miss Tenderfoot'll want help."

  She had to laugh, but her face quickly sobered, the muttered "Oh, damn," accenting the change. Usually her mild expletives had a whimsical unreality--they might have been uttered by a child--but this time she meant it. Sudden did not move, but the mirror behind the bar enabled him to see that King Burdette had thrust open the swing-door and was strolling towards them. The puncher, head hunched, waited until the newcomer was near and then straightened up and turned round.

  "God ! "

  King Burdette, taken off his guard, had recoiled, staringwith wide eyes at the man he believed to be drifting, a shapeless mass, in the depths of Thunder River. Almost instantly, however, he got over the shock, and an expression of sneering rage replaced his amazement. He glared at the girl.

  "What's this fella doin' here?" he asked.

  There was nothing mirthful in the cow-puncher's smile. He had learned what he wished to know: Burdette was aware of, and perhaps concerned in, the effort to send him to a horrible death in the Sluice.

  "Why don't yu ask me?" he suggested.

  Burdette's gaze was fixed on Lu Lavigne, and it was she who replied. "This is a public place; he has as much right to be here as you have."

  Her defiance spurred his rage. "So that's it?" he sneered. "Got a new playthin', huh?" He laughed hideously. "But yu ain't finished with me yet, yu"

  A cold, rasping voice cut in; Sudden was bending slightly forward, his hands hanging at his sides, death in his eyes.

  "That'll be all from yu, Burdette," he said, and waited.

  King turned his malevolent gaze on the interrupter. "I've on'y got one thing to say to yu, an' that is, don't crowd yore luck too close," he warned. "It's saved yu twice"

  "Three times," the puncher corrected, "An' that's my limit." He noted King's momentary start of surprise, and went on, "If yo're honin' to make it a fourth, why, I'm waitin'."

  King Burdette hesitated. He had plenty of pluck, and he was consumed with a desire to shoot down this man with the cold eyes and voice which stung like acid, but a demon of doubt assailed him. Whitey had failed and paid the penalty. King had no wish to follow him, especially now, when things were breaking right and a prospect of almost unlimited wealth was opening out. But it was a direct challenge and must be met. The sardonic voice of the C P foreman lashed him .

  "Take yore time, Burdette; yu got all eternity ahead o' yu."

  With a snarl of fury the baited man turned on the speaker, ready to snap out the word which would set guns spouting flame and hot lead. But another voice intervened.

  "There'll be no gun-play here, gents; I'll down the first fella what pulls."

  Slype, who during the conversation had apparently been intent on a card game, was now standing near, his gun out. Sudden saw the swift look of relief in Burdette's face and laughed aloud.

  "Pretty neat, marshal," he said. "Yu figure I'd beat him to the draw, so I'd get yore pill. Well, I ain't obligin'. Wasn't yu a leetle late gettin' into the game?"

  "No call for me to interfere because two fellas quarrel over this yer woman," Slype said insolently.

  The puncher's eyes grew chilly. "`Lady,' yu meant to say, didn't yu, marshal?" he suggested, and there was an ominous purr in his tone. "Yu ain't denyin' that Mrs. Lavigne is a lady, are yu?"

  The officer shuffled his feet and looked uncomfortable. The "lady" saved him the embarrassment of replying.

  "Thank you, Mister Green, but I don't care a hoot what that dirty little pack-rat thinks I am," she said. "His good opinion would be an insult."

  "Bully for yu, Lu," shouted one of the company, and most of the rest laughed approvingly.

  The marshal saw that he had blundered. "I warn't meanin' no offence," he said, but his look at the lady was poisonous. "As law officer of this yer town it's my duty to stop a ruckus."

  "An' yore boss is no doubt much obliged to yu," Sudden cut in. He turned to Burdette. "I'm servin' notice that yu've reached yore limit," he warned.

  "I make my own limits an' for yu the roof's off," King retorted, and calling for a drink, presented his back to the puncher. Outwardly calm again, he was a volcano within. For the first time in his life he had lost self-confidence. Why had he backed down before this stranger of whom nothing was known save that he possessed a deadly speed with a six-shooter? By what wizardry had the fellow escaped from the Sluice? Riley's shots must have missed, of course, but King knew the place, with its slimy, vertical walls and exit over the fall which spelt certain death. Had Riley pushed the wrong man in? No, he could not have made such a mistake in broad daylight, and Green had said, "Three times."

  He was aware that the subject of his thoughts had gone out without replying to his last remark; aware too that he had lost prestige with the men present. Most of them had resumed their amusements, but there were nods and muttered comments. Even the marshal--his creature--was regarding him doubtfully. Burdette turned a frosty eye upon him.

  "Wonderin' why I didn't take that fella up, Sam?" he asked. "Well, I ain't mixin' it with every stray gun-fighter who comes glory-huntin', an' there's other reasons to that." He spoke loud enough for the room to hear, and then dropped his voice. "I wanta find out what fetched him to Windy--he didn't drift in just by chance, I'll bet a stack. Hello, what's come o' Lu?"

  The bar-tender, to whom he put a question, informed him that Mrs. Lavigne had retired to her room, on the plea of a headache. King swore under his breath and turned again to hear the marshal saying.

  "Funny 'bout that of dirt-washer."

  "Ain't heard," Burdette said indifferently. "Which of 'em?"

  "California," Slype told him. "No one's seen hide nor hair of him for a coupla days."

  "Sick, mebbe, or out on a prospect."

  "No, he ain't at his shack, an' his tools an' burro is; Goldy Evans went to see."

  "Oh, he'll show up. Anyways, I ain't lost any prospectors."

  "That goes for me too, but his friends is clamourin' for a search-party," the marshal grunted. "Them damn' gophers act like they owned the town."

  "Let 'em look for him themselves," the Circle B man said contemptuously. "They're full-growed, ain't they?"

  "That's an idea," the marshal said. "I'll tell 'em to fly at it."

  He went out grinning, and King, seeing that Lu Lavigne did not reappear, followed soon after. Though his lean, sneering features did not show it, he was amused at the commotion caused by the disappearance of the hoary-headed old gold-seeker. One thing was certain : the mining element--which was fairly strong in the town--must not learn the truth. Loping leisurely along the trail to the Circle B, he suddenly startled his horse by emitting a throaty chuckle.

  "Got it," he exclaimed. "That'll explain things an' mebbe put a crimp in yu, Mister Green."

  He ripped out an oath as he recalled the humiliation the puncher had inflicted upon him in "The Plaza." It was the first time any man had outfaced him and got away with it, and he was still trying to explain his own attitude to himself. He had been glad the marshal had interfered, but now he cursed him, and yet--in the same circumstances he knew he would be glad again. And Lu Lavigne?...

  "Damn them both," he cried aloud, and raking the spurs along the ribs of his mount, sent it headlong through the gloom.

  Chapter XVI

  THE foreman of the C P arose on the following morning with an uneasy feeling that all was not well with the missing prospector, whose absence was the chief topic of conversation in the town. He confided his fears to Yago, adding that he intended riding to the old man's shack. Bill promptly announced that he was coming too. Sudden surveyed him disgustedly.

  "Yu talk like I was a kid," he said.

  "Yu act like yu was," Bill retorted bluntly. "From what I know o' this Burdette fella, `Percy Vere' are his middle names, an' he'll try again. Y
u've had the luck of a fat priest up to now, an' it's due to turn."

  "Cheery li'l fella, ain't yu?" his friend smiled. "Don't this allus lookin' on the bright side hurt yore eyes?" When they reached the shack the owner's burro pushed its head between the corral bars and brayed a loud welcome. "Say `Howdy' to your relative, Bill," the foreman smiled. Yago's face was a picture of commiseration. "An' yu kickin' at bein' called a kid," he said witheringly.

  Having forked some hay into the corral and filled the rude drinking-trough, they entered the hut. A skillet containing half-cooked bacon by the dead fire, and a pot of cold coffee beside it, showed that the occupant had left in the midst of preparing a meal. The pile of blankets which did duty as a bed had been pulled aside, disclosing a small cavity in the packed earth floor.

  "That'll be where he cached his dust, an' it's went," Yago observed. "Looks like he didn't leave willin'."

  "Somethin' else has gone too," Sudden said, and told of the piece of rich "float."

  Bill's eyes widened. "Somebody got wise."

  The foreman nodded and went outside. He found plenty of tracks in the soft soil, for Evans and his friends had been there, but presently, casting a wider circle, he came upon a fresh lot, those of half a dozen riders, headed away from Windy. He studied them closely for a while, and then returned to the shack in a thoughtful mood. Yago, who had been searching for another possible hiding-place, looked up expectantly.

  "Looks thisaway to me," Sudden said. "Someone followed me that mornin', overheard the conversation here--the ol' man warn't exactly whisperin', an' there's boot-tracks an' cigarette ends side o' the shack--pushes me into the Sluice, an' six of 'em come back later an' collect Cal. Reckon they got him holed up somewheres, aimin' to make him talk."

  "Mebbe they took him to the Circle B?" Bill suggested.

  "Mebbe they didn't do nothin' so foolish," his foreman replied. "We gotta try an' trail 'em."

  "Ain't yu goin' swimmin' this time?" Bill innocently inquired, and was given an order he declined to obey.

  "It's hot enough here," he said. "Betcha a dollar them jaspers has blinded their trail."

  For a few miles they had no difficulty in following the horsemen, and then, on a wide stretch of arid, stony ground to the north of the town, all traces ended. After an hour's fruitless search, they gave it up.

  "These hombres knowed where to come; yu could march a regiment across here an' a Injun couldn't follow it," Sudden said. "Seem to be headin' away from the Circlue B, too, but that don't mean nothin'. We'll have to try an' pick up a pointer in Windy."

  "I'll keep my ears open," Yago offered.

  His friend grinned. "We shan't miss anythin' then, even if it's whispered," he said, with a sly glance at his companion's hearing appendages.

  Bill's reply was sadly devoid of the deference due to his superior; their friendship was not of yesterday. Other work claimed their attention, and it was not until the approach of dusk that they got back to the ranch. On the way to the bunkhouse, Purdie called his foreman. He had just returned from town, where he had heard about the missing miner.

  "What d'yu suppose has happened to the old chap?" he asked. "Shouldn't 'a' thought he was worth robbin' even, let alone makin' away with."

  Whereupon the foreman told what he knew of the matter, including his own perilous part in it. Purdie's eyes grew big.

  "Yu got out the Sluice?" he cried.

  "With the help o' Bill Yago," Sudden reminded.

  "Yeah. But them currents an' whirlpools! Why, I wouldn't tackle it for a million dollars," the rancher said, and meant it. "Yu must be half a fish."

  "I swim pretty good," the puncher admitted, and, with a whimsical smile, "I didn't have no choice, yu know."

  "Got any notion who shoved yu in?"

  "Nope. But King Burdette knowed about it. He looked like I was a ghost when he saw me in `The Plaza.' Yu think that ol' skeezicks really has struck it rich?"

  "Shouldn't wonder--there's allus been a tale of a lost mine up on Stormy. Never took no stock in it myself, but if Cal or anybody else finds it they're welcome, far as I'm concerned."

  "Even the Circle B gang?" Sudden suggested.

  The rancher's head snapped back. "No, by God! " he cried. "Yo're right, Jim; anybody but them thieves an' murderers." His brow grew dark and furrowed. "I mis-doubt I should 'a' dragged yu into this," he finished gloomily.

  "Shucks!" the foreman laughed. "Blame that little fella in Juniper. I'm wonderin' what the next move will be?"

  As if in answer to the words came a flash from a belt of pines six hundred yards down the slope, a current of cool air passed between the faces of the two men, and a dull thud told that the bullet had buried itself in the ranch-house. Then followed the muffled crash of a rifle-shot. Instantly from the top of the trail came an answering report, and a shadowy rider raced through the dusk towards the pines.

  "Near thing, Purdie," the foreman said coolly. "Moody will smoke him out if he waits, but I'm bettin' against it. I've been expectin' somethin' o' the sort, an' we gotta take turns sleepin'." He grinned at the men who had come piling out of the bunkhouse. "It's all right, boys, no damage done, an' there ain't anythin' we can do--yet," he said, adding meaningly, "An' we shore make a fine target bunched together like this."

  The men took the hint and returned to the bunkhouse, but the muttered threats boded ill for the Circle B if the two outfits came to open warfare. The rancher and his foreman retired to the house, where they found Nan anxiously awaiting them. Sudden had paused on the way to dig out the bullet. Now, by the light of the lamp, he was examining it.

  "Another .38. Still clingin' to that notion, seemin'ly," he remarked.

  The girl's question brought the reply she might have expected from her father. "Luce Burdette, tryin' to lay me alongside Kit," he said savagely. "Dirty, bushwhackin' skunk."

  Her face paled, but she did not reply. The foreman took up the cudgels. "Someone is framin' that boy, Purdie," he said. "An' it was me they were after; remember, they don't know how much Cal told me; whoever's got him is back o' this."

  The owner of the C P shrugged his shoulders. These repeated outrages were sorely trying his patience--short, at the best of times--and the thought that the shot in the dark might have struck down his daughter filled him with fury. A forthright man, with the simple creed of the frontier, he would have gathered his riders and gone in search of his foes but for his foreman.

  "That's what they're workin' for," Sudden had more than once told him. "It'll come to that in the end, but for now, let 'em run on the rope; we'll throw 'em good an' plenty when the time comes."

  And because of his growing faith in this confident young stranger with the steady eyes and firm lips upon which danger brought no more than a sardonic smile, Purdie let him have his way.

  *

  The marshal draped his spare form against the bar of "The Lucky Chance," wrapped his fingers round the glass of liquor he had just poured out, and gave a comprehensive glance at the company. The place was fairly full, but the man he sought was not present. Mart Burdette, however, was lolling on a near chair, and a brief look of understanding passed between them.

  "Evenin' Sam," the saloon-keeper greeted. "Anny news o' th' missin' man yit?"

  "Nope," the officer replied, "but I'm expectin' a fella who may be able to gimme some, an' here he is."

  "Is it Green ye mane?" Magee asked, as the C P foreman and Yago entered. "What will he be after knowin' about it?"

  "I'm here to find out," the marshal said somewhat loudly. "Hey, Green, I want yu."

  The cow-puncher detected hostility in the tone but he smiled as he inquired.

  "What's the charge, marshal?"

  "There ain't none--yet," was the retort. "Just a few questions, that's all."

  "Toot yore li'l horn an' go ahaid," Sudden replied, as he leaned lazily against the bar and sampled the drink Magee pushed forward.

  "It's about--Cal," Slype began slowly. "I hear yu was the last man to see him alive
."

  "Why, is he dead, then?" the puncher inquired.

  "Mebbe he is an' mebbe he ain't," the marshal snapped. "I'm doin' the askin', an' I wanta know whether yu was up at his shack the day he disappeared?"

  Sudden did not reply immediately; the question had taken him by surprise. A hush had come over the gathering, and he divined that some of those present had known of the marshal's intention. Save for Purdie, Yago, and the prospector, only the assassin had been aware of his visit to the shack, and if the latter had talked it could only be for a purpose.

  "I certainly had a chat with Cal that mornin'," he said. Slype's small eyes gleamed triumphantly at this admission. "What took yu that way?" he asked.

  "It's part of our range," the puncher pointed out. "Didn't know the old chap was located there till I happened on him. He was alive an' kickin' when I left."

  The marshal's face shot forward, an ugly grin on his bloodless lips. "Yu said it," he sneered. "A fella would be apt to kick if he was slung into the Sluice."

  A threatening growl from some of the auditors greeted this; Sudden stared in bewilderment at the speaker.

  "Yu suggestin' I throwed the old man in the river?" he cried. "Yu must be drunk or dreamin'."

  "Don't think it; I'm sayin' that's just what yu did do," the officer retorted. "An' then yu went back an' stole his dust."

  The accused man glanced round the room and despite the black looks he met with, laughed scornfully.

  "Someone's been stringin' yu, Slype," he said. "Yu got the story all wrong."

  "I wasn't just expectin' yu to own up," the marshal said with heavy sarcasm. "As for stringin', I had it from Riley o' the Circle B, who chanced to be on the other side o' the river, an' saw the whole affair."

  The name told the puncher much of what he wanted to know. "Yeah," he commented reflectively. "Wasn't it Riley who claimed he saw Luce tryin' to bump me off?" And when Slype nodded. "Useful fella that--reg'lar johnnyon-the-spot, ain't he? The Circle B shore oughta pay him well."

  The marshal made no attempt to reply, but another did. Heaving his big bulk out of his chair, Mart Burdette thrust forward an ugly, threatening face and said with savage intensity.