Sudden: Outlawed

by Oliver Strange

  He liked the look of this loose-limbed, competent appearing stranger.

  At the meal to which they sat down later, Eden reverted to the momentous step he was contemplating, asking the cow boy if he had any experience of trail-driving?

  “On’y short distances,” Sudden told him. “Never been north; but I hear it ain’t no picnic.”

  The rancher nodded grimly. “Others have done it, an’ I’m gain’ to,” he said. “Like to come along? I can do with a couple more men.” He saw the hesitation, and added, “Think —we won’t be ready yet awhile.”

  Sudden promised he would do so, and asked the probable size of the herd.

  “I’m hopin’ for three thousand head,” Eden said. “Take some handlin’ but I got a good outfit. The pay is thirty a month an’ every man gets a share when we sell the cattle.”

  The cowboy nodded. He liked the rancher, recognized him as a good specimen of the bluff, straightforward frontiersmen ho, penetrating and settling in the wildest parts of the country, were preparing the way for the civilization which would inevitably follow. Baudry he did not take to, instinct telling him that under the smooth exterior lurked passions by no means in keeping with it. Once or twice he caught him looking at the girl, plain desire in his eyes.

  “Miss Carol, of course, will remain here,” the gambler said.

  “Miss Carol, of course, will—not,” the lady promptly stated.

  Her father looked at her in astonishment. “Don’t talk foolish, girl,” he said. “There’s no place for a lone woman on a trail drive.”

  Carol’s reply appeared to be irrelevant. “Aren’t you taking Peg-leg?”

  “Shore I am; we’d do fine without a cook, wouldn’t we?”

  “Then you’ll have to take his wife—Judy won’t let him go without her—so I shan’t be à lone woman,’ you see.” The rancher’s face was clouding up, but she did not wait for the storm to burst. “Can’t I ride, rope, and drive cattle as well as the boys?” she asked, and when he nodded a grudging assent, she added triumphantly, “Well then, you get a top-hand for nothing, and you grumble. But of course, you were only teasing; you meant I should go all the time. I must tell Judy.”

  She jumped up, blew him a kiss, and danced away. Her parent opened his lips to call her back, but was too late. He turned to his guests with a droll expression of hopelessness.

  “I can handle the savagest steer or woolliest cowboy that ever forked a pony, but when it comes to what some funny fella called the weaker sex,’ I’m beat,” he confessed. “That bit o’ impudence does what she likes with me.”

  Sudden left soon after the meal, returning the way he had come. The body of the dead Indian had vanished; his companion must have returned. The circumstance was to bear a significance later, but now he gave it no thought. His brain was busy with the offer he had jus received. It seemed to present a means of getting out of the mire into which chance had so unceremoniously thrown him; and moreover, the very enterprise itself appealed to his adventurous nature. The task of shepherding three thousand wild cattle through eight or nine hundred miles of fierce, untamed country seemed worthy of a man, and there was the added incentive that, in the lawless cowtowns of the north, he might find the fellows he was seeking.

  But he would not decide yet, for though, when necessity demanded, he could think and act with lightning speed, he was a deliberate person. And because of that, he would not mention his afternoon’s experience—even to Sandy.

  “I’m bettin’ he’s straight,” he told himself. “But our friendship is some recent.”

  When he reached the valley hg found the men loafing outside the large cabin, smoking and yarning. Having disposed of his horse, he joined them. Rogue had apparently not yet returned. They watched him curiously as he seated himself on a bench next to Sandy, who was looking uneasy.

  “Supper’s through,” that young man remarked, and then, in a whisper, “Suthin’s up, dunno what, but watch out.”

  “I’ve fed,” Sudden replied.

  He had already sensed the air of expectancy with which his arrival had been greeted, and guessed that some attempt to “try him out” might be made.

  Navajo and Ropey, standing six or seven yards away, were engaged in an argument, their voices rising. Sudden noticed that the other men were watching them. Presently Ropey, who was rolling a cigarette, snapped out an oath, and cried:

  “Texas? I can tell yu what I think of it right now. When a Texan dies an’ goes to hell—as they all do—he shore figures he’s in heaven.”

  He had turned as he spoke and his narrowed eyes were glaring at the visitor. It was a direct challenge, as all knew, and the chatter ceased. Sudden, lounging on the bench, took no notice, and Ropey, with a grin of contempt, struck a match. Ere he could apply it to the cigarette between his lips, a gun flamed from the lounger’s hip and the light was extinguished.

  “What th’ hell! ” the man gasped. “I’m from Texas,” Sudden quietly stated, and waited.

  But Ropey had nothing to say; the fragment of wood remaining in his fingers appeared to hypnotize him. Sudden addressed himself to the others generally:

  “Any fella is free to damn Texas,” he said, “but if he looks at me while he’s doin’ it, I take it as personal.”

  Ropey made a desperate attempt to save his face. “I was on’y joshin’,” he expostulated.

  “Same here,” Sudden told him, with a cold smile. “If I hadn’t been, I could ‘a’ put yore light out pretty permanent.”

  This raised a laugh, in which, however, neither Navajo nor the victim of the “joke” joined. Later on, when the visitor and Sandy had retired, the incident was again discussed. It was Navajo who brought it up.

  “Didn’t think yu’d be scared by a bit o’ trick-shootin’, Ropey,” he sneered. “Anybody knows it’s the wind o’ the bullet puts the flame out.”

  “Trick-shootin’ my eye,” Ropey retorted. “That match-tick was cut clean in half, a left-hand shot, an’ him sittin’ down. He’s a born gunfighter, that fella; he’d have to try—to miss.”

  And because the speaker was deemed only second to Navajo in that gang of expert gunmen his word carried weight. One only still expressed scornful doubt, and Ropey did not let it pass.

  “Take him on yoreself, Navajo,” he challenged. “He’s all yores—hide, horns, an’ taller—an’ I’m bettin’ two to one agin yu.”

  The half-breed shrugged impatiently. “Kid’s talk,” he said. “C’mon, boys; time to hit the hay; we got a stiff job in the morning’.”

  Meanwhile, in the little cabin they were to share, Sudden and Sandy also referred to the incident; the latter was full of admiration for his new friend’s marksmanship.

  “My Gawd, I never seen anythin’ like it,” he remarked. “I ain’t a mite surprised they named yù Sudden.”

  “My friends call mè Jim,” came the meaning reminder. “Shore, whatever yu say goes with me— Jim,” was the ready reply. “Ropey didn’t think o’ that play—though he might be feelin’ sore over yore bluffin’ him when yu came in. Navajo put him up to it—he don’t like yu—much.”

  “I got the edge on him there—I don’t like him a-tall.”

  “See many folks on yore ride?” Sandy asked presently.

  “Well, I wouldn’t say the country was thickly-populated,” was the smiling reply. “What’s doin’ tomorrow?”

  “Like I told yu, brandin’, damn it. They fetched in ‘bout three score mavericks this afternoon an’ we gotta put the 8 B iron on ‘em.”

  “Who owns that brand?”

  “Couldn’t say. There ain’t no 8 B ranch around here that I know of, but Rogue gets four dollars a head for all he can turn over.”

  Sudden was surprised; this was legitimate enterprise, for in those days of free range, unbranded cattle were the property of the finder unless the real owner could prove a claim.

  The explanation was to come in the morning, when the valley presented a scene of animation. A few hundred yards from the
pool, a fire had been lighted, and to this each steer had to be dragged or driven, thrown and tied, while the hot iron was applied. This was no easy task, for the cattle were scattered and full of fight. Sudden found that he had been assigned the ticklish job of hog-tying the victims. As he had not yet joined the band, he might have declined to share the work, but the idea never occurred to him; he was there, and it was the natural thing to help.

  He had tied the first brute before he noticed the branded letters, S E.

  “Hey, this critter’s got a label a’ready,” he said to Ropey, who came up swinging a long iron with a curved, red-hot end.

  That individual grinned maliciously. “Well, well, fancy that,” he said. “Say, Navajo, the boys brought in one o’ Sam Eden’s cows yestiddy; what we goin’ to do about it?”

  The half-breed slouched over. “S’pose we oughta take her back an’ ‘pologize, but I guess we won’t,” he replied, and grabbing the iron he added a few deft touches to the old brand, joining the ends of the S and the horizontal strokes of the E. “There, she’s an honest-to-Gawd 8 B now, an’ as cows can’t talk, nobody’ll know any different.” He gave Sudden an ugly grin. “Mistakes will happen, an’ I wouldn’t be s’prised if there’s a few more.”

  The tie-man knew he was being chaffed, but he was not foolish enough to show resentment. Instead, he returned the grin.

  “Eden oughta make his brand bigger—he’s got all the side o’ the animal,” he said.

  They laughed at this, but he fancied he could detect disappointment in their expressions.

  The arrival of another steer. hauled by the ropes of two perspiring, blasphemous riders. ended the incident. From then on the man from Crawling Creek was kept busy, and, as he now expected, four out of every five of the beasts he handled bore the S E brand. So it was plain rustling.

  Nevertheless, he did his work with a thoroughness which earned reluctant approval even from Navajo.

  “That hombre knows his job,” he admitted to Ropey. “Shore does,” that worthy agreed.

  “Never seed anyone tie ‘em so slick.”

  “Mebbe; but I don’t like him,” Navajo said.

  “I’m plumb astonished,” was Ropey’s unveracious retort.

  Chapter VI

  THE outlaw leader returned that same evening, and from his cheerful mood, it was evident that his errand had been successful. After supper, he called Sudden aside.

  “Been helpin’ the boys brand?” he asked casually.

  “Been helpin” ‘em blot brands,” Sudden corrected.

  Rogue’s brows ridged in a little frown. “Yu didn’t think this was a Methodis’ community when yu come here, did yu?” he asked acidly, and then, “Shucks, what’s a few cows anyway? I got a big thing on now, Jim, one that’ll give yu a chance o’ gettin’ away for a time. Savvy?”

  Sudden nodded, and the other went on exultantly, “Here’s the lay-out: Eden is takin’ a hefty herd—three thousand head—north, an’ a fella I know is hopin’ it won’t get there.” He smiled felinely. “In fact, he’s hopin’ so hard that he’s willin’ to pay pretty handsomely if it don’t, an’ buy—at a fair price—all the S E cows offered him.”

  “Failure to make the drive would bust Eden wide open, huh?”

  “Yeah, it’s his last hope, I reckon; he’s been buyin’ land an’ got in deep. But that don’t concern me; a fella has to take care of hisself. Now, he’ll want riders an’ I’m proposin’ that yu an’

  Sandy get took on—can’t use the other boys, their faces is known. Yu can see how it would help me to have a coupla men on the inside. We’ll be on the heels o’ the herd an’ can keep in touch with yu. Far as yo’re concerned, it gives yu a trail outa present trouble an’ a tidy wad into the bargain. What d’yu say?”

  “I’ll drop in at the S E in the morning’,” Sudden told him. “Where d’yu aim to break the drive?”

  “That’ll depend on how things pan out, but not till they’ve got too far to come back an’ gather another herd,” the outlaw said. “Glad yo’re comin’ in, Jim; yu can wise up Sandy.” He hesitated a moment. “Hear yu had trouble with Ropey.”

  Sudden laughed. “I just had to let the fellas know that I’m growed up. I’d say it was Navajo’s play.”

  “Like enough,” Rogue agreed, and his face grew dark. “One day I’ll have to argue with that hombre.”

  The cowboy came away from the interview with mixed feelings, certain only of one thing—he would join the S E, but whether as friend or foe he had not decided; the deliberate part of his nature was in charge at the moment. He found Sandy loafing outside their habitation and prefaced his message from Rogue by relating his adventure of the previous afternoon.

  “Well, if yu ain’t the lucky one!” the young man ejaculated. “Here’s me been ridin’ round for weeks an’ never had no chance to deliver a distressed damsel. Bet she’s hatchet-faced, squint-eyed, an’ bellers like a sick cow.”

  “Yu musta seen the lady,” Sudden smiled.

  “I ain’t—never knowed there was any female women in this neck o’ the woods,” was the reply. “Who is she?” For Sudden had not told all the story.

  “Sam Eden’s daughter.”

  “She was stringin’ yu—he ain’t got any.”

  “Adopted daughter, I oughta said—orphaned kid of an old friend,” Sudden explained, adding inconsequently, “Eden offered me a job.”

  “Goin’ to take it?”

  “We are,” replied the other, and went on to tell of the outlaw leader’s designs, and the part they were to play. Sandy listened with wooden features.

  “Sounds good,” he commented. “I’d shore like to be in on that drive; but Rogue’s wrong in one thing—I ain’t such a stranger around here.” He thought awhile and then slapped his knee.

  “Got it!” he exclaimed.

  “What, a mosquito?” Sudden asked.

  “No, an idea—don’t yu never have none?”

  “Yeah. Why, both my knees are sore right now.”

  The youth ignored the gentle raillery. “Where’s that stuff yu used on yore hoss?” he inquired.

  “On the shelf inside,” Sudden replied. “Goin’ to black yore lace an’ play nigger?”

  Sandy’s retort was neither polite nor printable.

  Sunrise found a grumbling cook giving them an early breakfast; but his curiosity regarding Sandy’s black hair, eyebrows, and moustache remained unsatisfied.

  “Ask Rogue about it,” the boy told him with a grin, knowing perfectly weil that he would do no such thing.

  For the first few miles the pair rode in silence. Sudden was trying to convince himself that the affairs of the S E owner were no concern of his, and not succeeding very Well. His companion was also deep in thought, riding head down.

  The morning air had an invigorating keenness which would presently change to a blistering heat. Around them, Nature was awaking; birds whistled, rabbits scuttled across their path, and once they saw the long grey form of a big wolf slink into the brush at their approach. It was Sandy who made the first remark:

  “Odd I ain’t heard o’ this gal at the S E.”

  “She’s recently arrived from the East—educated there, I gathered,” Sudden explained.

  Sandy snorted. “I get yu,” he said. “One o’ them high-toned dames, with a forehead bulging out like a cliff, who thinks o pore ignorant cowboys is doormats to wipe their number eights n.” Sudden chuckled silently. “Now I know yu’ve met her,” he said.

  “Yo’re wrong, but I savvy the breed,” the boy went on. “Thin-lipped, an’ that sot in their ideas they’d argue with a charge o’ giant-powder.”

  “She looked liable to get her own way most times,” Sudden admitted. “She had the of man roped.”

  “There yu are,” Sandy cried triumphantly. “An’ let me tell yu, a mule is an easy-goin’ critter alongside Sam Eden. Why, it’s told of him that once, when he was gettin’ the worst of an argument, he finished it by sayin’, `Well, I wouldn’t believe it
if I knowed it was true.’ What can yu do with a fella like that, huh?”

  Sudden laughed, partly at the story, but more at the reflection that his friend was due to receive a severe shock when he met the girl he had condemned unseen. Sandy’s next remark changed the subject.

  “I wouldn’t be so terrible distressed if Rogue fell down on this drive-bustin’,” he mused.

  “I don’t owe him nothin’ an’ I shore would like to see them northern cowtowns.”

  Sudden did not reply at once; he was wondering if the words had any hidden significance.

  “I’ve a hankerin’ thataway my own self,” lie confessed.

  They reached the S E ranchhouse to find it apparently deserted; the morning meal was over and the men had gone to their work. A hail brought Eden himself to the porch. At the sight of Sudden he called a hearty greeting:

  “Hello, young fella, I’m main pleased to see yu. Hope yu aim to stay this time.”

  “Shore do, Mister Eden, if yu’ll have me,” Sudden replied. He pointed to his companion.

  “This is Dick Sands—he’s huntin’ a job too.”

  The rancher studied the second of the visitors closely for a moment. “Any friend o’ yores is welcome, Green, an’ I can certainly use another man,” he said, but the warmth had gone out of his voice.

  Before another word could be said, Carol emerged from the house, her face lighting up when she recognized the rider who had come to her rescue. Sudden stole a look at his chum and had hard work to restrain his merriment. Sandy had snatched his hat off and was staring goggle-eyed at the girl who had, so far, hardly looked at him. Sudden mentioned his name again and Carol gave the young man a smile of welcome which completed his discomfiture.

  “Well, boys, what’s the word?” Eden asked.

  “We’ll go yu,” Sandy blurted out eagerly.

  “Good,” the rancher replied. “Leave yore war-bags in the bunkhouse. There’s plenty hosses in the corral—that mount o’ yores, Green, is too good for hazin’ longhorns out’n the brush.”