Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 03 - The Marshal of Lawless(1933) (29 page)

 
          
“Yu lyin’, double-crossin’ cattle-thief!”

 
          
With
the hissed words the half-breed’s right hand darted to Andy’s belt, there was a
roar and a flash, and Jevons rocked on his feet, sagged at the knees, dropped
in. a twisted heap. Twice his fingers clutched convulsively at the sand, the
body writhed, and then was still. A moment of awed silence followed, and then Reriton
spoke angrily:

 
          
“Yu
hadn’t oughta done that, Raven. Looks like yu was scared o’ what he was goin’
to say.”

 
          
The
saloonkeeper snapped round. “Who the hell are yu givin’ orders to?” he shouted.
“I’ll do as I please, an’ I—”

 
          
“Hand
that gun back, pronto,” the marshal cut in, and there was something in the
ice-cold, level tones which brought the killer out of his frenzy. He gave Andy
the weapon, and when he faced the marshal again all outward traces of his fury
had disappeared.

 
          
“Sorry,
boys,” he apologized, “but I done a lot for that fella”—he pointed a thumb at
the dead man—“an’ to find him stealin’ cattle from my friends an’ trying to
drag me into the dirty deal shore got me goin’. I’m admittin’ I was
wrong—oughta let him spit out his lies, I s’pose, but I lost my wool.”

 
          
The
explanation deceived no one, but had to be accepted. The marshal soon made his
arrangements. Renton and his two men were to take their cattle away and the
others would return to town.

 
          
“What
about that coyote?” asked the Double S foreman, with a nod at
Leeson.

 
          
“He
goes with me,” Green decided.

 
          
“As
well for him,” the cowman said grimly, and then: “I’m combin’ yore ranch,
Raven; I ain’t satisfied this bunch is all yu’ve had.”

 
          
The
owner of the 88 shot an ugly look at him. “If yu can find any more, take ‘em,”
he said evenly.

 
          
On
the return journey to Lawless the saloonkeeper led the way, moody and alone;
Pete and the prisoner—tied to his horse—followed; the marshal and Bordene
brought up the rear. They had not gone far when the deputy, to whom a prolonged
silence was purgatory, shot a sly glance at the ruffian riding beside him.

 
          
“Brace
up, ol’-timer,” he said. “Things could be wuss, yu know.”

 
          
The
prisoner looked at him hatefully. “Feelin’ funny, huh? Well, I ain’t,” he growled.

 
          
“Stretchin’
a fella for doin’ what his foreman told him to do
don’t
seem to me noways fair.”

 
          
“Shucks!
yu
ain’t hanged yet,” Pete rejoined. “Come clean, an’
I’m bettin’ the marshal won’t be hard on yu. He ain’t a bad sort, an’ he knows
they
was
on’y usin’ yu.”

 
          
For
an instant the man’s cunning little eyes flashed and then, “Dunno nothin’ about
it,” he said woodenly.

 
          
Not
until they reached town did Raven open his mouth, and then, as he got stiffly
down in front of the Red Ace, he said: “Better keep this quiet for a bit—we
don’t want no necktie party. See yu later, marshal.”

 
          
Late
that evening the marshal and his deputy were in the Red Ace when the proprietor
came up and greeted them with dry geniality.

 
          
“Well,
Green, yu got any fresh information outa that cur Leeson?” he asked.

 
          
“No,
he’s a clam, that fella,” Green replied. “Mebbe he’ll open up when the noose is
round his neck.”

 
          
“A
rope’s a real persuader,” the other agreed. “Hope you have him safe; he’s got
friends in town.”

 
          
“He’s
tied, an’ I got all the keys in my pocket,” the marshal told him.

 
          
“Oughta
be good enough,” Raven returned, and passed on.

 
          
Green’s
glance followed him speculatively. “Pete, I’m bettin’ we’ve lost our prisoner,”
he murmured. “He was laughin’ at us.”

 
          
And
so it proved. When they reached their quarters it was to find every door locked
as they had left it, but the occupant of the cell had vanished.

 
          
“Duplicate
keys, an’ o’ course he’d have ‘ern,” the marshal ruefully decided. “Oughta
guessed that, Pete; my head must be solid bone, right through. He’s a clever
devil.
Gets shut of a man who might yap an’ puts me in wrong
with the town, damn him.”

 
          
The
news of the rustling—which could not be concealed for long—with the death of
Jevons and the subsequent escape of his companion in the crime, soon faded out
in favour of a bigger sensation. The marshal was the first to hear of this, and
from the man who produced it.

 
          
Two
days after the disappearance of Leeson he met the half-breed emerging from the
bank.

 
          
“Just
the fella I wanted to see,” Raven began. “No, I ain’t seen Potter, but the doc.
tell
me that he’s still unconscious an’ there can’t be
much hope of his comin’ round. It’s about him I’m goin’ to talk to yu.”

 
          
Once
more the marshal found himself seated in the little room adjoining the bar.
Raven pushed forward a box of cigars, but the visitor preferred to roll himself
a cigarette, watching his host the while. The saloonkeeper was too friendly; he
appeared to be very pleased with himself, and there was a glint of sneering
satisfaction in his foxy eyes.

 
          
“Yu
know, o’ course, marshal, that the bank is cleaned complete—there won’t be a
peso for anybody?” he began. “It comes mighty near bein’
a
knockout blow
for the town; a good few citizens have lost all their
savin’s an’ some o’ the traders’ll find it hard to carry on. Ain’t that so?”

 
          
“Shore
is.”

 
          
“Well,
I got a big interest in Lawless an’ I aim to have a bigger one, so it
don’t
suit me that the better class o’ citizen—the savin’,
workin’ kind—should go broke. Likewise, there’s another thing: when Potter
first come here he hadn’t much capital. I took a shine to the fella, an’
reckonin’ a bank was wanted, I backed him. It was his lay-out, yu understand—I
didn’t have
no
share, but I lent him money. Oh, I got
it back—he’s a square shooter, is Potter—an’ all I stand to lose is what I had
there when the robbery took place. So I feel sort responsible, yu savvy?”

 
          
The
visitor nodded, wondering where all this was leading to.

 
          
“That
bein’ so, I’m goin’ to take over the bank, makin’ good the losses outa my own
pocket. If Potter gets well, I’ll hand his business back to him in good shape,
an’ he can repay me when he’s able; if he
don’t
recover, I go on runnin’ it. What yu think o’ the idea?”

 
          
If
the saloonkeeper had hoped to surprise the marshal he certainly succeeded; for
a moment Green stared at him in frank amazement; somehow, the picture of Seth
Raven as a philanthropist would not materialize.

 
          
“It’s
certainly a plenty generous proposition,” he said at last. “It shore oughta
make yu popular.”

 
          
There
was a sardonic touch in the concluding words, and he watched Raven narrowly as
he spoke; but the other man was playing his cards close and gave no sign,
though inwardly he cursed the marshal for having immediately hit the mark. That
individual tried another roving shot.

 
          
“Reckon
it’ll be good news for Andy Bordene.”

 
          
Again
it failed to produce any outward effect; the half-breed’s sallow face was
devoid of expression as he replied:

 
          
“Whatever
the books show that the bank owes will be met. I’ve got Potter’s clerk goin’
through ‘em now. It’ll cost a goodish bit, an’ there’ll be some who’ll say I’m
on’y lendin’ the money an’ it’ll come back via the Red Ace.”

 
          
When
the marshal returned to his office he found Bordene smoking and chatting with
Barsay. The latter, quick to note the storm-signals in his, friend’s face,
promptly asked a question:

 
          
“What
yu got yore ears set back for?
The Vulture been tryin’ to
bulldoze yu?”

 
          
The
marshal grinned widely. “That’s no way to speak to yore boss, an’ it shows a
want o’ proper respect for the town’s biggest benefactor,” he replied.

 
          
“How
long has Raven been a benefactor?” Andy enquired.

 
          
The
marshal told them of the saloonkeeper’s intentions and the eyes of both men
bulged.

 
          
“If
he does that I’ll have to alter some o’ my ideas about Seth,” Andy commented, a
visible relief in his tone. “Durned if I can see why he’s doin’ it though.”

 
          
“It’s
plain enough,” the marshal pointed out. “Makes him solid with the town;
nobody’s goin’ to accuse him o’ bein’ in on that rustlin’ after this. Don’t vu
be glad too soon, Andy; I’ve a hunch there’s a string tied to it far as yo’re
concerned.”

 
          
The
prediction proved correct. Entering the Red Ace that evening, Andy found the
place packed. The news of the saloonkeeper’s intended generosity had spread
through Lawless like wildfire, and not only those directly affected, but nearly
every other dweller, wanted to see the man who was about to give away thousands
of dollars.

 
          
Standing
with his back to the bar, the half-breed’s black eyes gleamed with triumph as
he received the thanks and homage of the throng. A contemptuous pride filled
him and his narrow, warped soul sneered at and despised every one of them. Then
came
the man he hated most of all, who stood in the
way to his cherished ambition. Bordene walked straight up to him.

 
          
“This
is a mighty fine thing yo’re doin’, Seth,” he began. “I gotta thank yu.”

 
          
“What
for?” asked the half-breed, with unsmiling lips, though his joy was hard to
hide; this was the moment he had been lusting for.

 
          
The
cold query took the young man aback. “Why, I understand yo’re re-openin’ the
bank an’ givin’ every customer the balance held when the robbery took place,”
he replied.

 
          
“That’s
correct,” Raven said. “I’ve got a list o’ the losses; your account don’t show
no
balance.”

 
          
“But
I gave Potter thirty thousand just before I went after Moraga,” Andy protested.
“Yu were there.”

 
          
“I
heard yu say somethin’ about it, an’ that’s all,” Raven retorted. “Yu might ‘a’
changed yore mind. Anyways, there’s no record in the books, an’ the clerk knows
nothin’ of it.”

 
          
“He
warn’t present,” Andy said. “I was in such a tear that I just gave Potter the
notes an’ didn’t wait for a receipt or anythin’, Damn it all, Seth, yu don’t
think I’d lie to yu?”

 
          
The
half-breed shrugged his shoulders. “A man who’s broke’ll do a deal for thirty
thousand,” he said insolently, and when he saw the rancher’s jaw tighten, he
added, “Mebbe Potter took a chance on yore not comin’ back. All I know is the
bank ain’t liable. Another thing, this business is goin’ to cost me a lot, an’
I want that mortgage on the Box B redeemed pretty prompt.”

 
          
“Knowin’
damn well that I can’t do it,” the rancher said angrily.