Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 01 - The Range Robbers(1930) (47 page)

 
          
“How yu boys makin’ it?’

 
          
It
was Snap Lunt, sent oy Leeming on a tour of inspection to see how his men were
faring.

 
          
“Lo,
Snap
; yu fellers got any of ‘em?’

 
          
“Dunn;
that blamed house is a nut that wants crackin’. What yu shootin’ at?’

 
          
In
a few words Larry explained the idea and the little gunman
was
filled with admiration.

 
          
“She’s
a great scheme,’ he said. “Yu hit on that all oy yoreself, Larry?’

 
          
“Nope,
got Ginger to help me
think
of it,’ replied Larry,
modestly.

 
          
Snap
laughed. “I’m agoin’ to pass the word all around,’ he promised. “That shack
won’t be safe for a flea if we put
them
shutters out
of action. Got any baccy?’

 
          
“Yeah,
an’ papers, an’ matches, an’ a lip to hang the pill on; want ‘em all?’ asked
Larry sarcastically.

 
          
“All
‘cept the lip,’ returned Snap, helping himself generously from the bag the
other threw to him.

 
          
When
he had crawled away, for the vicinity of the two Y Z punchers was no place to
stand upright or linger in, Larry resumed his task of destroying his particular
hinge. Though the short range rendered this a not too difficult mark, the
necessity of moving after each shot complicated the business, for the besieged
fired upon the slightest provocation. Twice Larry had been burned by a passing
bullet and presently a hearty string of expletives from his companion indicated
that he too was finding the work warm.

 
          
“Where’d
he get yu?’ queried Barton.

 
          
“Right
through the brain, yu chump,’
came
the petulant reply.
“Come an’ tie this blasted arm up; I’m bleedin’ like a stuck hog.’

 
          
“An’
squealin’ like one too,’ retorted Larry. “Brain, huh? Why, they couldn’t hit
your’n with the gun close to yore head.’

 
          
He
wormed his way over to where Ginger was lying and bound the ripped forearm. The
firing was now increasing in intensity and there was a regularity about it
which pointed at a definite plan.

 
          
“Snap’s
passed on our idea, shore enough,’ Larry said, complacently.

 
          
“Our
idea,’ cried Ginger. “Well, yu shore wasn’t out o’ sight when the gall was
distributed; yu’ll be claimin’ it was yores soon. I—’

 
          
“Aw
right, I ain’t deaf,’ Larry said. “Trouble with yu is yu talk too much. That
blamed shutter’s nearly cashed. I’ll finish her off an’ yu be ready to shoot
when she drops.’

 
          
Two
accurately placed shots severed the right hinge and thesagging shutter, tearing
away the other support, fell to the ground. Ginger fired instantly and they saw
a man lurch forward and subside. Larry’s shot followed and another indistinct
form seemed to fade away. No return shot came from the window.

 
          
“Pears
like we got ‘em both,’ remarked Ginger, and then, “There’s another shutter
goin’—see—the other side o’ the door. That’ll be
Simple
an’ Dirty. Reckon we got these coyotes where the hair’s short now.’

 
          
The
whine of a bullet which missed him by an inch cut out his jubilation and sent
him burrowing, while Larry plugged a couple of shots into the window. A reply
came instantly and it was Larry’s turn to curse, for the lead ploughed through
his hair.

 
          
“Sufferin’
snakes!’ he ejaculated. “I feel like I’ve been scalped.’ Ginger crawfished over
and examined the wound. “On’y a graze,’ he said. “If I had yore luck I wouldn’t
work for a livin’.’

      
 
“Yu don’t anyways,’ snorted the injured one.

 
          
The
discovery of the weak spot in the defence, while it proved an expensive
surprise for the rustlers, by no means justified Ginger’s optimistic views. The
exposed windows were quickly barricaded with mattresses, planks, and other
articles calculated to impede the progress of a bullet, and the fight went on
as fiercely as ever. That the defenders had suffered was evident since fewer
shots came from the building, but they were still strong enough to make a rush
across the open too costly. So that Dirk, on his way to the horses for a
further supply of cartridges, was not unduly hopeful.

 
          
“They’ve
got two of us, an’ some others
is
more or less
chipped,’ he said, in reply to Ginger’s query. “I reckon we’ve wiped out a few
o’ them too but ‘less we get the house afore dark they’ll have a chance.
Yu boys all right?’

 
          
“I’m
scratched an’ Larry’s got a permanent part in his hair, but he-won’t look any
uglier,’ replied the redhead. “We’re claimin’ to have downed a couple,
anyways.’

 
          
“Good
for yu,’ said the foreman, and went on his way.

 
          
The
situation inside the ranch-house was more critical than the attackers
suspected, for the unmasking of the windows had cost seven of the rustlers
their lives, and several others were wounded. Nevertheless, like cornered rats,
they were prepared to fight to the bitter end—all save one, for Tarman,
conscious that the game was now going against him, was already framing a scheme
by which he might save his neck. This plan he proceded to put into operation
with a callous disregard for the fate of the men who were fighting for him.
Stealing away unnoticed by those to whom a second’s inattention to the work in
hand might mean death, he went up to the room where Noreen, bound and gagged,
was lying on the floor.

 
          
Carrying
her downstairs he placed her near the back door of the house, which, owing to
the assiduous efforts of Simple and Dirty had quickly become too dangerous a
spot for defence. Then he opened the door a little and instantly two bullets
crashed into it.

 
          
With
one quick movement, Tarman slung the almost senseless girl across his shoulder
and stepped out. A cry of astonishment and rage greeted his appearance, but as
he had calculated, not a shot was fired, though half a dozen guns were aimed at
his heart and as many fingers were itching to pull the trigger. For a moment he
stood motionless, a grin of satanic triumph on his face, and then strode
steadily towards the corral.

 
          
“Any
attempt to interfere with me an’ the girl dies,’ he called out, and they now
saw that in addition to the rifle in his left hand, his right held a revolver.

 
          
Dastardly
as the threat was not one of the onlookers doubted but that it would be carried
out, and the Recording Angel must have a busy time during the next few minutes.
Larry, who had sprung up in readiness to intercept the ruffian before he
reached the corral, subsided with a curse when Ginger growled: “Don’t be a damn
idjut; can’t yu see the hound has got us throwed an’ tied? P’raps he’ll leave
her an’ make his getaway.’ But they soon saw that such was not the rustler’s
intention; he was taking no chances of being shot down.

 
          
Reaching
the corral, he did not relinquish his helpless burden, managing to rope and
saddle a horse without doing so. Secure in his immunity, he went about the
difficult job quite leisurely and the limp form draped over his shoulder seemed
to hamper him scarcely at all. To the impotent watching men the operation was a
maddening one but they dared make no move. At length he was ready, and
mounting, he swung the horse round.

 
          
“My
promise still holds good; follow me and she dies, pronto,’ he shouted, and with
a sneering “Adios’ he plunged into the chaparral.

 
          
The
rustlers defending the front of the house were not aware at first of their
leader’s defection, and those at the back did not realise his intention until
it was too late to interfere.
Green, from the slit which did
duty as a window to the room in which he was confined, saw the whole proceeding
and wrenched at his bonds in savage desperation.
Suddenly the door
opened and West came in.

 
          
“Couldn’t
make it afore—Durran had the key,’ he said. “Hold out yore paws.’

 
          
“Where’s
Durran now?’ asked the prisoner, as the Californian cut away the lashings on
wrists and ankles.

 
          
“Dead,
an ‘a good few with him, an’ that dirty houn’ Tarman has left us holdin’ the
bag,’ replied the other, with an oath ofdisgust. “Here’s yore belt an’ guns;
the next room to this has a window yu can drop out of. Run that skunk down—I’d
‘a’ beefed him myself if it hadn’t been for the girl.’

 
          
“This
puts me in yore debt deeper than ever, an’ I’ll not forget it,’ Green said, as
he buckled the welcome belt round his hips. “Nothin’ to that,’ said
West
. “I gotta get back or I’ll be missed. Good luck.’

 
          
The
moment he had gone the prisoner followed. As West had said, the adjoining room,
which he recognised as the one Noreen had been locked in, contained a
fair-sized window. He was about to open it when a stealthy footstep sounded
outside, and he shrank back so that the newcomer must enter the room in order
to see the occupant. He could hear the approaching man’s muttered words: “Where
in ‘ell is he? Durran said the small room.
Must be in here
with the gal.
Why ain’t the door locked? Damn fools—’
The
door was pushed back and Poker Pete entered.

 
          
“Drop
that knife,’
came
the curt command.

 
          
For
an instant the would-be assassin hesitated, gazing spellbound at the man he had
expected to find bound and at his mercy, and then, comprehending that he had no
chance against the levelled gun, with the implacable eyes behind it, he opened
his hand; the murderous weapon clattered and gleamed as it rolled on the floor.

 
          
“Who
turned yu loose an’
where’s the gal
?’ gasped the
gambler, who had been too busy at the front of the house to notice his chief’s
exit. He too knew that the game was up and had determined to secure his revenge
on Green, whatever happened.

 
          
“Tarman
used her to save his own dirty hide,’ Green replied. “As for yu, this is yore
last hand.’ He sheathed his gun as he spoke. “I’m givin’ yu an opportunity to
play it like a man. Pull yore gun.’

 
          
“Fine
chance I’d have again yu, wouldn’t I?’ said the ruffian, playing for time while
his cunning brain sought a way out.

 
          
“A
better one than I’d have had, tied, against yore knife,’
came
the stern retort. “Pull, damn yu! I’ve got no time to waste.’

 
          
“I
ain’t invitin’ myself to my own funeral,’ said the gambler, and coolly elevated
his hands above his head. “Shoot away, an’ be damned to yu.’

 
          
The
cowpuncher looked at him in disgust. At the same instant Pete’s right hand
dropped to his neck, rose again and flashed downwards, the blade of the second
knife glinting as he struck. To one unacquainted with the gambler’s habits, the
ruse would have been fatal, but Green had seen the trick before and was,
moreover, expecting something of the kind. Quick as light, he sprang in,
gripped the descending right wrist in his left hand and pulled the man towards
him, at the same time driving his own right fist into the savage face. The
impact, with all the impetus of his spring behind it, was terrific.
The assassin, hurled back as though by a mighty mind, staggered and
dropped in a huddled heap; a foot twitched and that was all.
For a
moment the cowboy stood, panting, waiting for the next move. Then, gun in hand,
he stepped forward, but a glance told him the man was dead; evidently, in
falling, his arm had twisted under him, and he had impaled himself upon his own
knife.