Sudden: The Range Robbers

by Oliver Strange

  Over the meal the newcomer grew communicative. His name, he said, was Dick West, more commonly known as “California,’ and he was now punching for an outfit whose headquarters were situated at the base of the Big Chief range.

  “What brand?’ asked the host.

  “Crossed Dumb-bell,’ replied the other, watching closely.

  “New to me,’ Green said carelessly. “Didn’t know there was a ranch in that part, but then I ain’t infested this locality long my own self.’ He went on to give his own name, and the bare fact of his dismissal from the Y Z, taking care that his resentment should not be too obvious. The stranger nodded understandingly.

  “If you weren’t wedded to thisyer grubbin’ for gold, yu could come along o’ me,’ he offered. “I reckon we could use another man. The pay is fifty per an’ shares, an’ the shares is better than the fifty per I’m tellin’ yu, for the right man.’

  “Sounds good,’ Green commented.

  “It’s as good as it sounds too,’ said the other. “Old Jeffs ain’t a bad sort either.’

  “That the boss?’

  ‘Actin’-boss—there’s another feller back of him.’

  For some time they smoked in silence, Green apparently turning over the proposition in his mind; it was no part of his plan to accept eagerly. That the rustlers saw in him a useful recruit was possible, and what he wanted them to believe, but there was also the chance that this was merely a trap to destroy him. Nevertheless, he intended to go, for it was what he had been hoping for. It was the visitor himself who brought matters to a head. Getting up, he stretched lazily, and remarked :

  “Well, thanks for the feed. I gotta drift; yu comin’ along?’

  “Guess I might as well,’ Green replied. “I’ll cache my tools here an’ I can come back if I want to.’

  This did not take long and having saddled his pony, he was ready.

  “Ain’t yu got another hoss—to carry yore pack?’ queried West, and the puncher hid a smile, guessing that perhaps his visitor had expected to see the roan. He shook his head.

  “Not here,’ he replied. “Bullet’s a good little hoss. He carried the pack an’ me, though I ain’t sayin’ he liked it.’

  “Some hosses is damn near human,’ said West, as he led the way up the canyon.

  They reached the tunnel and passed through into the valley, heading straight across for the far end. Green wondered how they would get out; he soon learned. On reaching the ledge which had baffled the Frying Pan posse, West said:

  “We gotta get down here an’ do a bit o’ work.’

  Turning to the right, he conducted his companion to a thick clump of brush which at first glance appeared to be impenetrable. They found a way in, however, and in the centre lay a pile of long, roughly-fashioned planks.

  “Reckon a couple’ll be enough,’ said California. “Give us a hand.’

  The planks were stout and it required two trips to get them to where they had left the horses. Placed side by side, with ends resting on the ledge, they made a practicable gangway for the animals. They were then returned to their hiding-place and the men clambered up the face of the ledge on foot. West directed

  Green to mount, and then took his blanket, rolled it and tied one end of his lariat round the middle. He too then mounted and pacing his horse directly in the wake of his companion, dragged the roll of blanket behind him, completely obliterating their tracks in the soft sand.

  “Smart Injun dodge that,’ commented Green. “Yu thinkin’ anybody’s after us?’

  Nope, but we use that valley an’ ain’t honin’ to advertise it,’ was the meaning reply.

  In a few moments they left the sand, descending a stony slope into another broad grass depression, and from thence plunging into a network of rocky winding gulches, ravines, and patches of forest. Through this labyrinth they followed a definite trail, over which cattle had evidently passed at no distant date. Only one incident of note occurred and that was when California got down to drink at a stream. As he lifted his foot to the stirrup his horse reared suddenly, and taken unawares, he lost his balance and toppled backwards into a bush. Instantly there came a warning rattle and a threatening head shot up, poised to strike, only a foot from the prostrate man’s face. Another second and the poisonous fangs would have done their deadly work, but Green’s gun spoke and the reptile’s head, shattered by the bullet, fell back into the bush. When West got to his feet he was shaking.

  “Gawd, that was a close call,’ he said. “I’m thankin’ yu, pardner, an’ if ever I can square the ‘count, yu can bank on me. Yu shore are some slick with a gun.’

  “There wasn’t much time,’ Green laughed. “I just naturally didn’t want to lose that job yo’re gettin’ me.’

  West climbed his horse, cursing it good-naturedly as he did so. “There ain’t many things I’m scared of, but snakes, ugh! I once see a feller pass out from a snake-bite,’ he said.

  The afternoon was well-advanced when they crossed a large expanse of open range and pulled up in front of a group of buildings, comprising a roomy ranch-house, bunkhouse, blacksmith’s shop, and a corral. All were constructed of logs and, Green noted, had not been long erected. Several men lounging by the bunkhouse door greeted his companion.

  “Lo, Dick, yu got back,’ said one.

  “Why, no, but I’m liable to arrive any moment,’ smiled California, and the user of the conventional absurdity was immediately pounded on the back.

  “Aw well, yu know what I mean,’ he protested.

  West led his companion to the ranch-house a little distance away, and in response to his hail, another man emerged—a shorn, bow-legged fellow with squinting eyes and a hard mouth.

  He surveyed the couple narrowly for a few minutes and then asked :

  “What’s yore trouble, West?’

  In a few brief sentences the ex-miner gave Green’s history as he knew it, and finished by asking a job for him; the rattlesnake incident was omitted. The decision was soon made.

  “Yo’re hired; all yu gotta do is obey orders an’ ask no questions,’ said the bow-legged man. “Yu’ll find that gold yo’re huntin’ for right here. Take him along, Dick.’

  He turned away and the two punchers, after disposing of the horses in the corral, made their way to the bunkhouse. Here Green was casually presented to the nine or ten men present as a new hand. He saw at a glance that they were a tough lot, men of middle age or more for the most part, ruffians of a type only too plentiful in the West at that time, a cursing, hard-drinking, fighting crew who would stop at nothing when their greed or passions were aroused. After his first entrance they took but little notice of him, though he could see that his new friend, Dick, was popular enough. The bunkhouse was comfortable, the food provided both good and plentiful. He gathered nothing from the general conversation, save once, when the mysterious Spider was mentioned.

  “Who is that?’ he asked of West, who was seated next to him. “The main boss—ain’t here much,’ was the reply.

  Chapter XIV

  TARMAN was not one to let the grass grow under his feet; he soon became an almost daily visitor at the Y Z, where he exerted himself to the unmost to please both the owner and his daughter. The latter, though her doubts were not entirely dispelled, could not altogether resist the attraction of his personality. They rode often, and despite his defeat by Blue Devil, she had to admit that he was both at home and looked well in the saddle. Moreover, he was studiously respectful and attentive. Though he did not make open love to her, she was aware of his admiration. It was after one of these excursions, when sitting on the verandah with father and daughter, that Tarman made his first reference to Green.

  “That puncher yu fired hasn’t pulled his freight, I notice,’ he said. The roan yu give him is still in the hotel corral.’

  “Didn’t yu say he was going prospectin’?’ Simon asked Noreen.”That is what he told me,’ she replied, and did not fail to note the little crease in Tarman’s brow.

  “Som
e folks find gold in other folks’ cattle,’ he sneered. ‘Anybody can buy a miner’s outfit. It’s bein’ said in town that he’s got into bad company.’

  Noreen laughed. “Town talk; why, I wouldn’t condemn a coyote on that.’

  “Neither would I, not if I was at all acquainted with the coyote,’ smiled the big man, “but one o’ the Double X boys claims that he saw Green over towards Big Chief, ridin’ with a mighty hard-lookin’ crew, strangers to these parts. I’m thinkin’ he may have found them rustlers he was lookin’ for.’

  “Sounds queer—I don’t know of any ranch over there,’ said Simon. “I expect it’s just as well I got rid of him.’

  The girl said no more, but the information made her uneasy. She knew, of course, that Tarman was jealous of the onher, cleverly as he tried to conceal the fact, but she did not think he had invented the story, and meeting Larry later on, she asked a plain question.

  “Yes, Miss Norry,’ he told her. “It was Dutch who claimed to have seen him, an’ o’ course some o’ them smart Alecks gotta start ornamentin’ his yarn. Why, one of ‘em told me Green had been seen alterin’ brands! He warn’t quite so shore of his facts when I’d done arguin’ with him,’ he finished, grinning at the recollection of an indignant citizen trying to curse and retract his statements at the same time, while his face was being enthusiastically jammed into the dust of the street.

  The girl smiled too, for the young puncher’s wholehearted faith in his friend was good to see. It cheered her also to find it was shared by others; Ginger, now well enough to sun himself on the bench outside the bunkhouse, was equally emphatic.

  “Don’t yu worry, Miss,’ he said. “That feller’s as straight as a string, an’ if them bums in Hatchett’s get too fresh, me an’ one-two more’ll have to go in an’ read the Riot Act to ‘em. He’ll show up again, fine as silk.’

  This prediction was realised sooner than the maker of it anticipated for that very evening Green rode into town. For once rumour had spoken truly, for his new job had taken him, with half a dozen others, to a small, hidden valley, and the work done there was the rebranding of a herd of Frying Pan cattle.

  “Reckon yu can use a straight iron?’ asked Jeffs, and on Green replying in the affirmative, that part of the job was assigned to him, the others cutting out, throwing and tying the victims. Without it being noticed, Green managed to introduce a slight variation in the brand which would enable him to identify the animals he had operated upon. He was a quick and accurate worker and Jeffs meant what he said when he complimented him.

  “Yu done a good job,’ was his comment, when the last of the herd staggered to its feet, shook its head, and charged blindly after its companions. “Reckon yo’re due for a rest. I want somebody to go into Hatchett’s. How about it?’

  “Glad to,’ replied the puncher. “When do I start?’

  “Right away, if yu like,’ said Jeffs. ‘Yu can stay the night there an’ come back in the mornin’.’

  On their return to the ranch, Jeffs handed Green a sealed packet. “Just leave it at the hotel—he may not be there,’ he said. “Anyways, there’s no answer.’

  The messenger slipped the packet into the pocket of his chaps, merely noting that it was addressed in the name of “Marway,’ and went off to saddle a fresh mount. He had not gone far on his journey when West caught him up.

  “Wasn’t expectin’ yu,’ remarked Green. “Jeffs forget somethin’?’

  “Nope, said I could come along,’ replied the other. “I’m just apinin’ for civilisation.’

  “There’s about as much of it in Hatchett’s as there was gold in that creek yu found me pannin’,’ Green told him.

  “Mebbe, but there’s liquor, an’ a chance to buck the wheel an’ lose some o’ my hard-earned wealth,’ was the smiling reply. “I ain’t been there yet; what’s it like?’

  “Just the same as any other cow-town,’ said Green. “Reckon if somebody mixed ‘em up in a herd, it’d be hell of a job to cut out the town yu wanted—this is, if you was silly enough to want any of ‘em.’

  California laughed and went on to tell of the “boom’ towns he had encountered during his mining travels, towns which sprang up like mushrooms in a night when a lucky strike was made, and vanished as quickly when the diggings petered out.

  “Yes, sir,’ he said. “I’ve gone to sleep in what looked like a thrivin’ an’ busy settlement an’ woke up in the mornin’ to find nearly every blame buildin’ gone, an’ me for the on’y inhabitant. Most of the said buildin’s bein’ tents transportation wasn’t so darned difficult.’

  He was one of those easy talkers who enjoy an audience, and an adventurous and by no means blameless career, regarding which he showed no reticence, provided him with plenty of material. Born in a mining camp, he had been prospector, gambler, bartender, mule-skinner, and cowpuncher, besides engaging between while in other less laudable means of getting a living. He had made fortunes and lost them.

  “Some fellers can freeze on to the dollars,’ he laughed. “Me, I never could nohow.’

  Green listened, throwing in a remark now and then, but in no wise returning the other’s confidences. Only once he asked a direct question: “Ever run across a chap named Webb, a big, beefy feller with red hair?’

  “Don’t remember any such. What was he?’

  “A damn thief—but he called himself a cattleman.’

  The rasp in the voice made West look at the speaker. “I’m guessin’ he ain’t a friend o’ yores,’ he hazarded.

  ‘Yo’re right,’ responded Green. “I’m aimin’ to make cold meat of him someday.’

  Night was coming on when they reached their destination and the town was showing signs of emerging from the stagnation of the day. Green left his packet at the honel, and having arranged for beds, he and his companion were free to “take in the town.’ Their first call was at the stores, for both were in need of tobacco, and the old proprietor greeted them with an odd look of surprise. All he said, however, was, “Found that gold-mine yet?’

  The cowpuncher shook his head and grinned. “Them tools o’ yores has been plumb unlucky so far,’ he said. “But the fishhooks came in right handy. Any news?’

  “Well, I dunno as there is. The marshal has bin shootin’ off his mouth about a feller who was reckoned to be prospectin’, an’ if I was that feller an’ had to come to town, I’d have a fast hoss where I could get to him easy, in case I wanted to leave in a hurry.’

  The hint was plain enough. “Tonk ain’t the holy terror he’d like to be thought,’ smiled Green. “All the same, if I was that feller I’d be mighty obliged to yu.’

  They walked down the street in the direction of the Folly. The only bit of excitement was provided by a pup which, bolting headlong from a couple of yelling children, collided with a pedestrian. The latter, swinging a heavy foot, lifted the astonished cur well into the middle of the road, where it was triumphantly pounced upon by the pursuers. The pedestrian turned into the saloon, after hesitating outside the Dance Hall, where the stamping of many feet on the boarded floor and the howl of a tortured fiddle proclaimed that a dance was in progress. Green and his companion followed. One swift glance as they crossed the space between the door and the bar told Green that, in some quarters anyway, his appearance was unlooked for.

  “Lo, Silas,’ he said, and then, seeing Snap Lunt, Durran, and Nigger a little further along the bar, he added, “Howdy, boys; yu joinin’ me?’

  “Shore,’ replied Snap, but the other two mumbled some excuse and turned away. Green laughed.

  “Ain’t swore off, have they, Snap?’ he inquired.

  “Not so as yu’d notice it, but they dassn’t drink with yu; Blaynes is settin’ over there.’

  Green looked in the direcnion indicated and saw that the foreman of the Y Z was playing poker with Pete, Laban, and Tarman.

  “It don’t seem to worry yu none,’ he said.

  The little gunman smiled grimly. “I ain’t scared o’ Blaynes,’ he sa
id.

  Green spun a dollar on the bar to pay for the drinks and Silas picked it up. “Why don’t yu pay in dust?’ he bantered.

  “What, an’ have all town campin’ on my trail for the next week. Yu must think I’m well named,’ retorted the puncher.

  “I never did think that,’ grinned Silas. “But say, you want to watch out; it isn’t none o’ my business, but some people was expectin’ yu tonight.’

  The speaker’s glance rested for a second or two on Tarman and his companions. Through apparently playing cards, it was plain that they were also deep in conversation. At that moment a boy from the hotel entered and handed Pete a package. Green recognised it. The gambler read the contents, said something in a low voice, and they all laughed.

  Green sensed that something was about to happen. That he had been deliberately sent into Hatchett’s he had already suspected, but for what purpose he had yet to find out. Snap and West were busy swapping gold-mining experiences, for the gunman had also followed the trail of the pick and shovel, and this left the puncher at liberty to study his surroundings. The room was fairly full, and though he had no reason to think he was disliked, he knew that if it came to a showdown, most of the men present would stand aloof or take sides against him. The entry of four Double X punchers led by their one-eyed chief did not add to his feeling of security. As though they had been waiting for this reinforcement, the poker party broke up and adjourned to the bar. Again the door swung to admit Larry and Dirty. The former gave a whoop when he saw Green.

  “Gee, Dirty, we shore are in luck. There’s the ruddy minin’ magnit, with nobody but Snap to waste his substance on. Let’s provide him with a better opportunity.’

  Disregarding the scowls of their foreman, they ranged themselves by the side of Green and his companion, and glass in hand smiled genially on those around them. They had come to town quite by chance, looking for no more than a drink or two and a game of cards, but when they saw the company in the saloon they realised that something was on. Others, not in any way interested, seemed to know it too and there was an air of general expectancy about the whole gathering. Then the marshal came in, glared savagely at Green for an instant, and joined Tarman’s group at the bar.