Sudden: Outlawed

by Oliver Strange

He pointed to a cloud of dust some miles away on the plain. “The herd is there.”

  He climbed briskly into his saddle, the girl followed, and they galloped away, Sandy watched till they vanished over a swell in the ground, and then turned to lind his companion doubled up over his saddle-horn. He looked at him suspiciously.

  “Got a misery in yore stumick?” he asked.

  “Yeah, these hatchet-faced, squint-eyed dames alms give me a pain,” Sudden chortled, ashake with mirth.

  Sandy swore. “Damn funny, ain’t it? Look here, yu misfit, breathe a word o’ that to her an’ I’ll trample the gut’s out’n u.”

  “Get her to do it with them number eights,” Sudden advised, and then his hand went up.

  “Awright, I’ll be good. Come an’ grab them hosses; I’ll bet there’s some work awaitin’.”

  They soon reached the spot the rancher had indicated. Already about a thousand head had been assembled, and, kept bunched by a couple of riders, were grazing contentedly on the short grama grass which covered the plain. The herd was a mixed one; evidently everything in the shape of a cow was being rounded up, and the bellowing of the bulls mingled with the bleating of the calves as they staggered weakly after their mothers. At the moment Sudden and his partner approached, an addition of thirty animals arrived, convoyed by two riders who presented a striking contrast, one of them being tall and abnormally thin while the other was short and fat. As Sudden learned later, the pair were great friends, and quarrelled perpetually.

  “Well, boys, yu shore have been busy,” Eden greeted them. “Ain’t all our’n,” the tall man explained. “Met Pebbles an’ the Infant, an’ took over their gather.”

  “Here’s a couple o’ fresh helpers, Jed. yu better take Green, an’ Dumpy can put Sandy wise.”

  As the four men rode away, Jed cast a quizzical glance at his late partner and remarked audibly, “Now I got me a real sidekick ‘stead o’ that dollop o’ drippin’ we’ll git some cows.”

  The fat man rose to the bait instantly. “G’wan, yu graveyard relic,” he retorted. “yu watch out, stranger; he’ll let yu do all the work; that fella wouldn’t breathe if he could git anybody to do it for him.”

  Jed replied with an impolite gesture, and wheeling his horse to the left, motioned Sudden to follow.

  “We’ve pretty well cleaned up around here—have to go further afield,” he said.

  A short ride brought them to where the plain slid off into a spread or country which looked as though it had been the scene of an earthquake. Out of this the longhorns, wild, fierce-eyed, had to be driven, and the task proved to be a trying one to both man and horse.

  Crashing into the underbrush the riders unearthed a couple of steers and drove them into the open. Then, in turn, each guarded the “catch” while the other searched for additions. Both jobs demanded alertness and patience, for the cattle made repeated efforts to break away. The approach of evening found them with a collection of near two score.

  “Pardner, we done noble,” Jed said. “Reckon when we git ‘em to the main herd we can call it a day.”

  “Suits me,” Sudden grinned, and smacked the nose of a straying steer with his rope. “I certainly hope yu got a good cook; my belt’s damn near slippin’ off’n me.”

  “Peg-leg’s the finest cook in Texas—he says so hisself,” Jed laughed. “An’ he shore can talk to mules in the language they understand.”

  In their search for cattle they had drifted some distance from the plain, and dark was creeping up by the time they reached the herd. The sight of a big fire and the near-by chuck-wagon brought a doleful expression on Jed’s face.

  “Gotta sleep on our saddles tonight, seemin’ly,” he said.

  “Yu’ll be some lucky if yu sleep a-tall,” a new voice put in.

  Another rider had caught them up—a wispy little man, nearing fifty, from whose brown face, wrinkled like a walnut, small blue eyes peered at the pair amusedly.

  “‘Lo, Jeff,” Jed greeted, and turning to his partner, added, “This is our foreman—a pretty ornery fella, as yu can see, Green.”

  The little man chuckled and shoved out a paw. “Heard o’ yu from the 0I’ Man,” he said.

  “We can use yu.” He waved towards the grazing cattle. “The bunch is gettin’ big an’ wants watchin’, which is why we’re campin’ alongside. Also, Sam is on the rampage, I reckon we gotta start workin’ tomorrow.”

  “Sufferin’ cats!” wailed the cowboy. “C’mon, Green, let’s join the other loafers an’ load up before this slavedriver makes it to-day.”

  Having unsaddled and turned their mounts loose—the beasts were too tired to stray far—they joined the group squatting round the fire.

  “Hey, Jed, how many yu fetch in?” Dumpy inquired.

  “Coupla score, if it’s any o’ yore damned business,” Jed said.

  “An’ mighty good goin’,” commented another.

  “Aw, Jed knows the easy places,” the fat man gibed.

  “Then I wish he’d picked on ‘em,” Sudden said ruefully. “I’ll never see a pincushion again without feelin’ sorry for it.”

  There was a general laugh at this, for all the men were scratched and torn, despite the stout leather “leggin’s” they wore.

  Sudden had a word with Sandy.

  “We joined this outfit too soon,” he said whimsically. “We’d oughta waited till they was ready to drive.”

  “I wish we hadn’t joined a-tall,” his friend replied. “No, that ain’t so neither, but—hell, what’s the use?”

  With which cryptic remark he rolled his blanket round him and went to sleep. Sudden, too tired even to wonder about this attitude, followed his example. Slumber must be made the most of; if anything disturbed the cattle, there would be no more for any of them that night.

  Chapter VII

  SOON after dawn the men were astir and crowding round the fire, for the early air was keen. Breakfast over, Jeff divided his forces; half were to begin the branding while the others continued to build up the herd. Sudden and Sandy, as not knowing the range, were allotted to the second task, a decision which—to the former’s surprise, met with his friend’s satisfaction.

  “We’re shorely outa luck,” he remarked tentatively.

  “Suits me,” Sandy replied gaily. “We’ll show these hombres how to label longhorns.” He straightened his neckerchief, slapped the dust from his clothes, and fingered his chin uneasily.

  “Say, Jim, yu got a razor?” He saw the dawning grin of comprehension on the other’s face, and added hastily, “These whiskers o’ mine’ll come out the wrong colour, yu know.”

  “Mine’s at the bunkhouse,” Sudden said. “I saw the cook scrapin’ his jaw a piece ago.”

  Peg-leg obliged with a razor and a cracked mirror. “Which if yo’re goin’ to this trouble on account o’ Miss Carol, yu needn’t,” he advised. “She’ll be too busy to look at yu.”

  “I ain’t,” Sandy stated, with a flash which contradicted the assertion. “Can’t stand a scrubby chin, that’s all.”

  The cook’s grimace was one of disbelief—he had seen other newcomers suffering from the same affliction, but he said no more; he was a man of few words but, as was once remarked, those few were frequently “damn near as strong as his caw-fee.”

  The branding promised to be a big job. Chutes were unknown in the south-west of that day, and each animal had to be dealt with separately. Sandy found he was to work with his friend. Sudden was waiting for him, a bundle of short tie-ropes (piggin strings) in his hand.

  “Hey, yu lady-slayer,” he called. “yank some o’ them bawlin’ brutes over here an’ don’t keep me waitin’.”

  “They’ll come so quick yu’ll get dizzy,” the young man promised. “I’ll make yu think its rainin’ cows.”

  Sudden smiled at the boyish boast. While his was the more dangerous and tricky task, he fancied he could keep ahead of Sandy. But that optimist had helpers and soon the tie-man had his hands full. The rays of the rising s
un quickly drove the chill from the air, and growing in intensity, added to the discomfort of the workers. Perspiration drenched their faces but failed to remove the grime from the ever-rising clouds of dust. Sweat caked on the flanks of galloping mustangs. Cows bellowed and frightened calves blatted as they were hauled . willy-nilly to the fire. The shouts and rough banter of the riders merged with the rattle of horns in the milling herd.

  Sudden, looking up in a moment of respite, found Eden watching him.

  “Good work, Green,” he said, and as Sandy with a whoop, rushed up another unwilling victim, roped and threw it, he added: “Yore friend seems to know his job too.”

  He rode off without waiting for a reply, and Sudden was glad; the praise worried him.

  He stole a glance at Sandy—who was freeing his rope from the helpless steer—and was surprised to see that the boy’s face was redder than even the fierce sun and his exertions warranted. He too had heard what the cattleman had said.

  “Yu boys have certainly made a hit with Sam,” the foreman commented.

  Sudden grunted an agreement. He liked the outfit and its owner, and he was there to help ruin him. He tried to tell himself that the world, having made him an outlaw, was to blame for any consequences, but he could not make the argument convincing. Fortunately, he had little time for reflection; the cutters were doing their work well.

  “Told yu I’d make yu hustle, didn’t I?” Sandy said, a little later.

  “‘Pears to me some other fella fetches along a steer now an’ then,” Sudden replied, as he mopped his dirt-streaked features. “Say, I got an idea. yu swap jobs with me tomorrow an’ yu won’t have to worry ‘bout shavin’.”

  “Nothin’ doin’. Wouldn’t change places with yu for a blue stack.”

  Sudden detected his involuntary glance over the plain to where Miss Carol was busy bunching the branded cattle into a separate herd, and his eyes twinkled understandingly. Sandy’s work took him near that trim little figure.

  “Shucks, I’ve done told Jeff yu can tie ‘em two at a lick,” he said teasingly.

  “I’m goin’ to tell him that as a liar yu got Ananias beat a mile before he opens his mouth,”

  Sandy retorted, and to his horse, “G’wan, yu son o’ sin, we’ll give this fella suthin’ else to think about.”

  He shot off towards the herd and had almost reached it when he saw something which made him swerve suddenly: a newly-branded steer, mad with rage and pain, was rushing full at Carol Eden, who, intent on her charges, did not see it. With a yell of warning, Sandy raced and swung his rope. The loop dropped over the brute’s horns and with a flip, he sent the slack over the rump and spurred his mount to the left, jerking the hind legs from under the steer. As it crashed down, the girl became aware of her danger and jumped her pony away. The fall had taken the fight out of the steer; as soon as the rope was removed it scrambled to its feet and lumbered off. Carol’s face was pale.

  “Thank you,” she smiled. “I’m afraid you’ll think I’m a tenderfoot to be caught like that.”

  Sandy’s customary assurance had deserted him; he was the picture of confusion. Also, he was finding breathing difficult, for it had indeed been a near thing; had he missed his throw. …

  He shuddered at what might have been; the pony ripped up, the rider on the ground, at the mercy of those sweeping, sharp-pointed horns. Hat in hand, he stammered some commonplace, cursing himself inwardly for a tongue-tied fool. Her eyes rested on him kindly.

  “You are Mister Green’s friend, aren’t you?” she asked. “He came to my assistance too, so I’m now obliged to both of you. I ought to be glad you joined the outfit.”

  “I’m hopin’ yu will be,” Sandy managed to say, and, as he saw his employer approaching,

  “Gosh, I’m forgettin’ I got a job.”

  As he dragged a complaining calf on the end of his rope to the branding fire he communed with himself:

  “What come over yu, yu lunkhead, to let a bit of a gal like that scare yu all up? She musts thought yu was dumb.”

  But his eyes were shining when he handed over his prisoner, and his sweaty, grimed face wore such an expression of content that Sudden could not help but notice it.

  “Yu look like yu was all lit up from inside,” he said. “Havin’ a good time, huh?”

  “Never had a better,” came the sober reply.

  “It would do Rogue’s heart good to see that bunch over there,” Sudden said meaningly, nodding in the direction of the gathered cattle.

  “Yeah,” Sandy snarled, whirled his pony, and was gone, leaving his friend in a thoughtful frame of mind.

  Days passed, days made up of long hours filled with incessant, monotonous toil in the blistering heat, and steadily the herd increased. The weather remained fine, feed was plentiful on the plain, and the branded cattle gave no trouble.

  “For which, thank the Lawd,” Jeff said fervently. “If them critters took it into their fool heads to stampede, it’d be just merry hell.”

  Even when the herd was complete, much remained to be done. The big covered wagon, with its team of six mules, had to be overhauled and loaded with provisions, flour, bacon, coffee, New Orleans molasses—familiarly known as “blackstrap”—pickles, and a limited supply of dried fruits. The remuda had to be selected—five horses for each man—weapons and ammunition prepared.

  Twelve men, including the rancher and the cook, were to accompany the herd, two older members of the outfit remain ing behind to “hold down the ranch.” These preparations entailed constant effort, for Eden was eager to start.

  Sudden had little chance of converse with his friend during these days of stress, for the brief hours of rest were too precious to be wasted, but he got more or less acquainted with the other members of the outfit and decided that Sam Eden was a good judge of a man. Rough, reckless, and shabby-looking, they were nevertheless capable. Only one he did not approve of—a newcomer like himself—a big, dark, be-whiskered fellow named Lasker, who was in charge of the remuda, a position which was poorly-regarded in a cow-camp. He knew nothing against the man but instinctively distrusted him.

  “He’s got mean eyes,” he explained to Sandy.

  “Well, I dessay the hosses won’t mind,” was the indifferent reply.

  Sudden looked at him thoughtfully. The boy had changed since they had joined the S E; his gay impudence had gone, to be replaced by a moody irritability. “He’s pretty near played out, like the rest of us,” was his unspoken reflection, but he knew it was not a satisfactory solution, for bone-weary as all the men were, enthusiasm prevailed, whereas Sandy appeared disgruntled, sick of the whole business.

  “Jeff tells me we’re all set for an early start tomorrow,” Sudden offered.

  “It’ll be a relief to get away from this blasted plain,” was all Sandy had to say.

  When the rancher and his daughter made their appearance in the morning they were accompanied by Baudry. Together they inspected the herd.

  “They look good to me, but surely you have some oldish stuff amongst them,” the gambler commented.

  “Oh, I reckon they’ll pass with the rest,” Eden said. “Yu remember what the foreman o’ one o’ the early drives told the buyer who made the same complaint? ‘Strangers,’ he says, ‘if yu’d bin through half what them critters has, yu’d look twice yore age.’ ”

  Baudry laughed. “Well, you know your business, Sam, and I wish you all the luck there is,” he rejoined. “I’ll be coming north myself and shall expect to see you. Hear of the killing at Littleton?”

  This was a settlement some thirty miles distant, and the ranch having had no visitors was without news. Eden said as much.

  “Coolest thing ever,” Baudry went on. “A stranger steps into Greggs saloon just after dusk, shoots the dealer at the monte table, collects all the cash in sight and backs out. When the company comes to life again, he’s clean away.”

  “Another o’ Rogue’s capers, I s’pose?” the rancher said.

  “They sa
y not, unless he’s got a new hand,” Baudry replied. “From his looks, and a remark he made, he was Sudden, the Fourways and San Antonio killer.” A rider on a big black horse, waiting to assist in starting the herd, caught his eye. “Why, that might be the fellow, by the description,” he finished.

  “What, Green?” the cattleman grinned. “He’s been tied to this camp pretty tight the last two-three weeks. No, Jethro, there ain’t no murderers in his outfit; Jim’s all right.”

  The young man heard the words, but they brought him no satisfaction; the gambler’s harsh voice had also carried to where he sat and the bitterness he had been trying to blot out of his life had overwhelmed him again. Another crime had been unjustly placed to his discredit.

  The world was determined that he should be an outlaw. Very well, since there was no other way…

  He carne out of his dark musing to find that the word had been given and the herd was already on the move, the point riders leading the way, the swing and flank men stringing the cattle out into a long line. Two men looked after the “drag,” and behind came the remuda, in charge of the horse-wrangler, and the wagon. The Great Adventure had begun.

  Under the blazing sun the herd tramped steadily on. No great difficulty was anticipated until they crossed the Colorado River, the country south of that being familiar to most of the men. Nightfall found them camped near a little creek. From where the cattle were settling down came a somewhat cracked voice wailing the interminable verses of “The Cowboy’s Lament” and one of the men squatting at the fireside laughed.

  “Lucky cows ain’t got no ear for music,” he said. “The Infant’s screech would start a stampede.”

  For Sudden, riding moodily round the herd, watching first one and then another sink down to sleep, the night brought only the opportunity to brood over his own troubles. Little more than half a mile away he could see the gleam of the campfire; if the men sitting round it knew who he was, they would hang him before dawn. And for this he had to thank Rogue, whom he was there to serve. Idly he wondered what the outlaw was doing, or about to do, and then swore savagely that he did not care. Which was not the truth.