Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 01 - The Range Robbers(1930)

by Oliver Strange

  “Good for yu,’ gasped the late prisoner, as they raced for the corral.

  The horses, scared by the shooting, were bunched together at the far end of the enclosure, but a whistle from Green brought the roan straight to where the two men stood waiting. In a few moments the saddle was on and Green mounted. Larry looked wistfully at the other horses.

  “I’d give a year’s pay to come with yu,’ he said.

  “Yu gotta stay an’ help to clean up the mess,’ his friend told him. “Say to Leeming that Poker Pete an’ about half the rest of ‘em’s cashed in there.’

  He touched the roan with his heels and shot off in the direction Tarman had taken. Larry stood watching him until the angry “spat’ of a bullet striking a post beside him came as a reminder that he could be seen and reached from the ranch-house. Dropping to his hands and knees, he crept back to join Ginger, whose relief at his return was successfully concealed by a string of opprobrious epithets.

  Chapter XXIII

  AT first Green pushed the roan along at a good pace to make up for the start the quarry had obtained. He had this advantage, Tarman could not know he was pursued, and therefore was not likely to hurry unduly, the more so as his horse was carrying a double burden. The cowpuncher argued that the fugitive would make for the Big Chief range, through one of the passes in which he would be able to reach a town. Probably he would aim for Big Rock, where he had friends and could obtain supplies. The trail, which Green soon picked up, seemed to confirm this.

  The firing from the ranch-house grew fainter and presently died away as the roan and its rider penetrated further into the wild country which guarded the lower slopes of the mountains. Though apparently heading for a fixed point, Tarman was breaking a fresh trail and making frequent detours to avoid obstacles. This helped the pursuer, who mounted on a superior horse, could make better time on the stretches of easy going.

  For mile after mile Green pressed on, sometimes at full speed where a bit of open country permitted, at others at a walking pace, when the horse slipped and slithered down the side of a gully, rock and sand following in a miniature avalanche. Once, on the bank of a creek, the sign showed that Tarman had dismounted to drink. The footmarks in the soft sand were still slowly filling with moisture.

  “He ain’t so far ahead now, Blue,’ muttered the cowpuncher. “Oughtta see him soon.’

  The fury that had possessed him when he saw Tarman carrying off the girl had now resolved itself into an icy determination of purpose. To an onlooker ‘his actions would have seemed deliberate, even slow, but he was taking no chances. Having satisfied his own thirst and that of his mount, he rode on. Drawing his revolvers in turn, he spun the cylinders and made sure the weapons were ready for instant use. Then he examined the rifle.

  “It’s his own—the son of a gun,’ he said. “Well, needn’t to worry ‘bout yu,’ he added, as he slid the Winchester back under the saddle-fender, for Larry took more care of his weapons than of himself.

  They were now nearing the mountains, and the scenery became still more savage and forbidding. The trail zigzagged upwards through dense forests of pine which almost shut out the daylight, along clefts strewn with boulders, and presently emerged on an open ledge which climbed round the side of a big spur and evidently formed one of the passes through the range. Less than half a mile away a horse was wearily plodding up the long slope under its double load.

  Having got the girl so far, and with only one man to deal with, Green did not believe that Tarman would carry out his threat, and as concealment was no longer possible, he gave his horse the rein. As he had expected, the thudding hoofs of the roan were heard at once. Taxman gave one glance back and then spurred his mount, uselessly, as he soon realised. Another backward look told him that the pursuer was apparently alone. A savage grin distorted his face as he slipped to the ground and dragged his rifle from the scabbard.

  Green saw the action and recognised that his foe had all the advantages. Tarman, with the girl behind him could not be fired at, while he himself was entirely without cover, and at a range at which a good shot could hardly miss. Nevertheless he rode steadily forward, watching and waiting; he had one chance in a thousand, and he knew it. The girl, bound and helpless, sat huddled upon the horse, watching too, with a cold terror clutching at her heart. When he was little more than a hundred yards away the cowpuncher saw Tarman raise his rifle and take steady aim. As the report rang out the roan reared, and its rider pitched sideways from the saddle, flopping awkwardly to the ground and lying motionless. Tarman stood for some moments, crouched slightly, his gun ready for a second shot. He saw the horse quieten down, pace forward, and sniff inquiringly at the prostrate form.

  “Got him, by God!’ he exulted.

  A cry of despair from the powerless spectator brought a grin of malicious triumph to his lips. “Sudden exit of Mr. Sudden,’ he sneered. “Reckon yu will have to put up with me for yore husband—or yore lover—after all. Some day yu will learn that when Joe Tarman goes after a thing, he gets it. I’ve got yu, the hoss is there, an’ if those damn fools don’t split about the cattle, I’ll get them too.’

  Sliding the rifle back into the sheath, he took the lariat from the saddlehorn and led the animal down the slope to where the cowpuncher was lying. He trailed the reins, and drawing a gun stood looking down upon his fallen foe. He could see but little of the face, which, turned downwards, was almost hidden in the curve of the left arm, but the outflung right arm and the sprawling legs told their tale. The rustler raised his weapon.

  “Dead as mutton,’ he said aloud, “but I reckon I’ll waste just one cartridge on yu for luck, my friend.’

  He was on the point of pulling the trigger when Noreen’s horse began to pitch and he turned to curse it, and her. “Put ‘em up, Tarman!’

  The harsh command brought the rustler round like a flash and then—his hands shot heavenward. The cowpuncher was still lying prone but now there was a gun in his right hand.

  Slowly, and with his eyes fixed on the big man, he got to his feet. Looking into that stark, grim face Tarman could not repress a shiver of fear; the man who could risk such a ruse and lie motionless with a gun trained on him, was to be dreaded. Standing there, one hand holding aloft his pistol and the other the lariat, he waited for the bullet he himself would not have hesitated to fire. But again he had misjudged his man.

  Put yore gun back,’ came the order, and when he had complied Green holstered his own. “Now Webb, or Tarman, whichever yore name is, I’m going to give yu what yu never gave any man yet—an even break. Pull yore gun as soon as yu want to.’

  He waited, his own hands clear of his gun-bunts, but the big man seemed in no hurry to accept the invitation. Instead, his lips curled in a wolfish snarl.

  “Even break, eh?’ he sneered. “Knowin’ damn well that yo’re quicker’n I am. Makin’ a grand-stand for the girl’s sake, eh? Well, it don’t go with me.’

  “Then I’ll take yu back an’ hang yu with the other thieves,’ retorted the puncher, drawing his gun and stepping forward to disarm his prisoner.

  “If that damn hoss had kept still yu would be buzzard-meat by now,’ growled Tarman, as he looked malevolently at Noreen. “If I thought—’

  “Keep yore thoughts to yoreself an’ turn yore back,’ ordered the other sharply.

  Under the menacing grin, Tarman complied, but instead of making the half-turn he whirled completely round, at the same time slinging the heavy coiled lariat full into the face of the advancing man. Completely taken by surprise and blinded for the moment, Green pulled the trigger, but the shot went wide, and the next instant the weapon was struck from his grasp and his enemy was upon him. A savage blow sent him staggering back and when sight returned to his smarting eyes, Tarman’s hands were reaching for his throat. He ducked and drove a fist into the gloating, furious face, but he could not evade the arms which closed round his body like a vice. Swaying, slipping, they reeled to and fro like drunken men. The puncher knew that the other
was trying to throw and throntle him and he strove desperately to keep his feet and break the hold by pounding away at Tarman’s ribs. That this hammering was beginning to tell he soon learned, for the bigger man’s breath was coming in gasps.

  Suddenly Tarman changed his tactics. Releasing his opponent, he slung in a terrific blow with his right which, had it landed, might well have proved fatal. But the puncher got his head away just in time and as the massive fist whistled past his ear, he sent in a return which drew a bellow of rage from the big man and brought him rushing blindly forward. The next few moments were a medley of whirling fists with no attempt at defence; both men were obsessed by the brute instinct to hurt, and the fight became one of insensate fury. To the bound girl who was the sole spectator it seemed impossible that such violence could continue. The thud of bone meeting bone or flesh sent a shudder through her and yet, barbarous as the scene was, she could non take her eyes away; they were fighting for her, and the issue meant more than life.

  Backwards and forwards the bruised, blood-spattered figures heaved, neither appearing to gain any supremacy. Tarman’s bulk gave him an advantage, but it was offset by the puncher’s wiry toughness and superior condition. Every muscle in his body pulsed with pain, yet the blows went home and if there was less power behind them he had the satisfaction of knowing that the other man was in no better case. Tarman’s gashed and gaping mouth, noisily sucking air into his labouring lungs, told a plain story of distress, and Green, reading it, summoned his remaining strength and again closed. A crashing blow to the jaw which he was too weak to avoid sent the big man headlong, and as he fell, his hand encountered a hard object in the grass. Green remained standing, waiting for the fallen man to rise, glad indeed of a moment’s inaction. He failed to read the devilish look of cunning which the prostrate ruffian darted at him.

  “Another grand-stand play,’ Tarman sneered. “Goin’ to let me get up, eh?’

  “I don’t hit a man when he’s down, even if he is a cur an’ a coward,’ retorted Green.

  “Different here; I fight to win, an’ take my chances,’ the big man said, as he rose painfully to his feet, his right hand slightly behind him. “Come on, yu

  He lurched as he spoke, as though from extreme weakness, and the puncher fell into the trap. Refreshed by the respite, he sprang in to finish the fighn. Tarman waited, a wicked light gleaming in his swollen eyes. Though he was still wearing his gun he had been afraid to attempt to use it, for the outlaw’s second weapon still hung at his hip, and the rustler knew better than to take the chance! But now Fate had dealt him the winning card, for in falling, he had dropped upon Green’s other Colt.

  Taking no risk, he waited until Green was upon him before his right hand flashed into view and the gun roared. The impact of the heavy slug stopped the oncoming man like a blow and sent him reeling, but even as he fell his left hand streaked to his side, there came a flash and report from his hip and Tarman, with a choked cry, pitched forward on his face. Head to head the two men lay, while the girl stared at them in horror. Above,a mere speck in the sky, an eagle wheeled in ever-narrowing circles.

  “Well, I reckon that was the prettiest scrap I ever seen, an’ a right good finish.’

  The harsh voice jarred the girl back to consciousness, and looking round, she saw Laban. Leisurely dismounting he walked to the body of his friend, callously turned it over, and snood contemplating it, a satirical grin on his thin lips.

  “I reckon yo’re good an’ dead, Joe,’ he said. “Plumb between the eyes, a left-hand shot, an’ him plugged too. Sudden shore deserved his reputation. Well, seein’ as there ain’t no one else, I guess I must be the missin’ heir.’ He looked malevolently at the girl. “Not that I’m wantin’ yu the way Joe was, but I reckon Old Simon’ll pay somethin’ no get yu back. As for him’—he nodded towards the cowpuncher—”by Gosh! he ain’t gone yet —he’s breathin’.’

  Running to the girl he slashed her bonds with a knife and pulled her from the saddle.

  “Help me tie him up—he’s worth ten thousand alive,’ he ordered. “An’ don’t try no tricks for I’d as soon shoot yu as not.’

  The threat was not necessary, for Noreen’s one anxiety was to help the wounded man. An examination of his hurt showed that the bullet had entered the right side of the chest, fairly high up, and had passed clean through. Strips from her underskirt and handkerchiefs supplied bandages, and Laban showed some skill in their adjustment. When this was done to his satisfaction he rose and grinned at her.

  “He’ll live to decorate a tree yet, if we can get him away from here. Fetch that hoss o’ mine, he’s quiet; we’ll have to tie him on.’

  “It will kill him,’ the girl said indignantly.

  “Do as you’re told,’ he snarled. “Or—’

  His threatening hand was still in the air when a quiet but meaning voice said, “Put the other up too, Seth, an’ keep ‘em up.’

  Laban knew that voice and his biceps were cuddling his ears when he faced round to find Snap Lunt standing, gun in hand, a bare dozen yards away. Busy with the bandaging, neinher he nor the girl had noticed his approach. The little gunman’s eyes were blazing and the expression on his face was that of a devil. Laban tried to temporise.

  “Hello, Snap, yo’re just in time to take Miss Petter home—I was wonderin’ what to do with her,’ he began. “Joe an’ Sudden had a mix up an’

  “Step back, an’ keep doin’ it,’ came the cold command, emphasised by the levelled gun.

  Laban, thinking the other merely wanted him further from the girl, obeyed, and for each step backward that he took, Lunt took one forward. So they went for perhaps twenty paces, and then Laban said: “What’s the idea, Snap? If yu got anythin’ to say—’

  “Keep movin’,’ was the stern reply.

  Some instinct made the rustler glance over his shoulder and he suddenly shrieked. One more pace backward would have sent him over the precipice to crash upon the rocks hundreds of feet below. Shivering with fear he tried to edge forward away from the ghastly chasm.

  “Back,’ came the inexorable command, and a bullet tore off the upper part of an ear.

  Flinging himself on his knees the miserable creature begged for mercy, crying aloud that he had not hurt the outlaw, whose wound he had bound up, that he had always liked Snap, and that he meant no harm to Noreen. He might as well have pleaded to a stone man. Snap took another step forward.

  “Seth,’ he said. “Yu are agoin’ over, dead or alive. Which is it to be?’

  He meant it; the lust to kill was upon him, and he well knew that the grovelling wretch before him was as unfit to live as he was to die. But the sight was more than the girl could bear. She laid her hand on the gunman’s arm.

  “Please let him go, Snap,’-she begged. “He has not harmed me, and whatever his motive, he bound up Mr. Green’s wound. Perhaps he will go straight in future.’

  “Huh! ‘bout as straight as a corkscrew,’ Lunt growled. “He’s a bad lot an’ yo’re doin’ the world a poor service turnin’ him loose on it agin, but yu don’t have to ask me twice for anythin’, Miss Norry, an’ that goes.’

  He walked no Laban took away his gun, and pointed up the pass. “Get,’ he said. “An’ remember this, next time we meet yu better see me first for I’ll be shootin’ on sight.’

  “Yu ain’t turnin’ me loose afoot an’ without grub, are yu?’ quavered Laban.

  “Make tracks,’ ordered the gunman. “Yu got yore life an’ that’s all I’m givin’ yu.’

  Having watched the broken rustler stagger up the pass and vanish round a bend, Snap turned his attention to the problem of getting the sick man home. Green was conscious—he even essayed a grin when he saw Lunt—and he also grasped the situation.

  “Tie me to the saddle,’ he said. “I reckon I can make it.’

  With both of them helping, and by making a supreme effort which brought the sweat in beads to his brow, he managed to climb to the back of Laban’s pony, which appeared to be the
most docile. Then with the girl on one side, and Snap, leading the spare horse, on the other, they began the journey. Never will Noreen forget those hours of torture. Compelled to move at a walking pace, constantly watching that the wounded man did not slip from the saddle, the ordeal seemed endless. Ere a mile had been traversed, Green’s head sagged forward and he began to mutter. References to Tarman, Bill Evesham, and to Larry came indistinctly to her ears, and then she heard her own name, and blushed furiously while her heart sang.

  “Don’t yu heed him, Miss Norry,’ said Lunt, when the delirious man ripped out an oath. “He’s out of his head, that’s all.’

  “This ride will kill him,’ the girl replied anxiously. ‘Do yu think the hurt is very bad?’

  “Can’t say, Miss Norry, but I’ve seen wuss,’ Snap told her. “I’m hopin’ the lead has missed the lungs an’ in that case he’ll likely be as good as new in a month or two; he’s a clean-liver an’ tough as rawhide.’

  Noreen rode on in silence. Only when she had seen him go down before Tarman’s treacherous bullet had she realised what this nameless stranger with the terrible reputation really meant to her. She summed it up in one word—everything, and as she helped to hold the swaying, lurching form, with its death-white face, in the saddle, she prayed as she had never done before. Mile after mile they crawled and the patient drooped more and more over his saddlehorn until Noreen feared that he must collapse entirely.

  She herself was little better and only the courage of despair enabled her to endure that terrible ride. At length, when it seemed that she could hold out no longer, came a cheerful word from Lunt :

  “Yonder’s the house,’ he said. “An’ I reckon the dance is over.’ He was right. When they presently rode into the clearing they found the attackers busy rounding up their mounts and preparing to depart. The shout which greeted their arrival brought Leeming on the run. Green, who had been lifted down and laid on a blanket, had a spell of sanity.