Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 03 - The Marshal of Lawless(1933) (30 page)

 
          
“
I dunno nothin’ about yore affairs,
an’ I ain’t carin’,” the
saloonkeeper replied.

 
          
It
did not need the hard, merciless tone
nor
the sneering
look to convince the cowman that any appeal would be useless. When he spoke
again his voice was low,
vibrant :

 
          
“Yu
seem to hold the cards, but I reckon the deck was stacked. Whatever you want
belongin’ to me yu’ll have to fight for, Raven.”

 
          
For
a long moment the two men faced one another, brown eyes clashing with beady
black ones. The half-breed was the first to turn away, silently cursing the
mother who bore him. He sent a venomous glance after the young man as he left
the bar.

 
          
“I’ll
make yu pay to the last cent,” he muttered. “I’ll take yore ranch, yore girl,
an’ break yore damned heart.”

 
          
But
Bordene had spoilt his evening; he could not forget that, for all his
popularity, he had once again quailed under the gaze of a hated white.

 
          
Renton’s
return to the Double S with the stolen steers and his story of what had
happened produced an extraordinary revolution in the mind of Reuben Sarel.
Shame at the thought that he had allowed himself to be used by such a man as
Raven overrode every other consideration.

 
          
“The
dirty dawg oughta be strung up,” he grated, and the foreman was amazed at the
savage tone of his usually mild and easy-going manager.

 
          
“Meanin’
Jevons?” he asked.

 
          
“Meanin’
his thievin’ boss, who killed him to close his mouth,” retorted Sarel.

 
          
“Which
is my sentiments to a dot,” the foreman agreed. “But thinkin’ an’ provin’ is
two different things.”

 
          
Reuben
nodded gloomily and Renton left him pacing up and down the veranda. Absorbed in
his thoughts, he did not notice that Tonia was watching him with a mischievous
smile.

 
          
“So
glad you’ve made up your mind to do it at last,” she said.

 
          
Sarel
spun round, his fat face flushing. Hang it, had the girl read his thoughts? But
the merry, affectionate look told him this could not be.

 
          
“To
do what, Tonia?” he asked.

 
          
“Take
that exercise you need, of course,” she laughed. “I notice you don’t go far
from a chair though.”

 
          
Reuben
dropped wearily into a seat. “Quit yore foolin’, girl, an’ sit,” he said. “I
got somethin’ serious to tell yu.” There was an awkward pause and then he
blurted out, “I’ve been double-crossin’ yu, Tonia. No, don’t say nothin’—just
listen.”

 
          
Head
down, drooping in his chair, he told the whole sordid story. How he had got
deeper and deeper in debt, and, realizing the hopelessness of ever being able
to pay, had yielded to his creditor’s crafty offer to take Double S cattle.

 
          
“I
was allus meanin’ to pay yu back, lass, but the cussed luck wouldn’t change,
an’ I on’y got mired worse’n before,” he pleaded. “An’ with that devil
threatenin’ to tell you…”

 
          
His
voice tailed away miserably, and he could not look at her. Tonia rose and put
an arm round his neck.

 
          
“Yu
dear old silly, as if I care a hoot about the stupid cows,” she soothed. “Why
didn’t you tell me and save yourself all these months of worry? I suppose that
was why you thought that cur would make a good husband for me?”

 
          
“I
never thought that, girl, but he had me roped,” Reuben replied. “I knew I’d
oughta throw him outa the place, but I ain’t the man yore father was. I’ve been
a poor sorta guardian.”

 
          
“You’ve
been very good to me,” she said, “and you’re not to think anything different.
As for Mister Raven—” she stopped suddenly and her cheeks grew rosy. “Andy’s
coming, and he looks as though he’d been washed and hung out to dry.”

 
          
The
simile was not inapt, for Bordene sat draped over his saddle, chin on chest. At
the ranch-house he got down listlessly, threw the reins, and stepped heavily
forward. He appeared a tired and dispirited man, but at the sight of the girl
he forced a smile to his drawn lips.

 
          
“Howdy,
folks,” he greeted.

 
          
His
attempted gaiety did not deceive the girl. “What’s the matter, Andy?” she asked
quietly.

 
          
The
boy smiled bitterly. “Nothin’ the matter, Tonia, ‘cept we gotta change that job
yu were goin’ to give me into one o’ ridin’ for yu.”

 
          
“What
rubbish vu kids talkin’?” the fat man enquired. “Tryin’ to tell us yu lost yore
ranch, Andy?”

 
          
“I
reckon it amounts to just that,” he replied dully, and went on to tell of
Fate’s final blow to his hopes. They had heard of the robbery, but had not
known that Andy was deeply affected.

 
          
Raven’s
bid for popularity was news, and they stared open-eyed at Bordene when he
related his conversation with the saloonkeeper. “I paid the money to Potter,
an’ what he did with it the Lord on’y knows,” he said in conclusion. “O’
course, I was dumb to hand it to him thataway, but—”

 
          
Tonia
nodded understandingly, and her look was a caress. “It was because I was in
danger, Andy, wasn’t it?” she said. “Since Raven holds your mortgage, it would
naturally be inconvenient to hand you the money to redeem it, and he couldn’t
play favourites, so I am not surprised there is no record in the bank books.”

 
          
The
two men looked at her. “That’s sound reasonin’, but could he get at ‘em?” Sarel
asked.

 
          
“Of
course he could—he’d be the first sent for, in the marshal’s absence,” Tonia
pointed out. “And, anyway, he could buy the soul of that clerk of Potter’s for
a few dollars.”

 
          
“I’m
bettin’ yo’re right, Tonia, but what can we do?” Andy said. “He’s got the town
eatin’ outa his hand now.” The girl smiled at him. “I’m going to pay off your
mortgage, Andy; the Double S will be good enough security for that amount.”

 
          
“No,
I won’t have you involved in this,” the young man protested. “I’d sooner let
him have the ranch.”

 
          
Sarel
slapped his knee in delight. “She’s right, boy,” he cried. “The Box B at twice
the sum is a bargain; why shouldn’t Tonia have it instead o’ that schemin’
skunk, huh? On’y point is, where we goin’ to borry that much coin?”

 
          
“From
the bank at Sweetwater,” Tonia told him. “It’s no use
your
saying anything, Andy; I am going to beat that beast if it takes every dollar I
possess.”

 
          
But,
as they were soon to learn, their enemy had a card up his sleeve, one powerful
enough to shatter their hopes and cast them utterly in the dust.

 
          
Breakfast
was over at the Double S, and Reuben Sarel had climbed into the buckboard and
set out to interview the manager of the Sweetwater bank. Tonia, having seen him
off, went about her household duties. She was in the midst of a gay little song
when a rattle of hoofs outside brought her to the veranda. The song ceased and
her face hardened when she saw the lank, stooping figure of the saloonkeeper,
head forward, his coat-tails suggesting the wings of the carrion-eating bird to
which men likened him.

 
          
“Mornin’,
Tonia, yo’re lookin’ right peart,” he commenced.
“Reub
around?”

 
          
“My
uncle has gone to Sweetwater,” she replied, flushing at the caller’s familiar
manner.

 
          
“Well,
I guess we can get along without him—two’s
company,
ain’t it?” he said with a smirk, as, not waiting for an invitation, he stepped
on the veranda and sat down.

 
          
“If
your business is with my uncle—” she began.

 
          
“Take
a seat, Tonia. My business—though I shore wouldn’t call it that—is with yu,”
the visitor told her. “An’ I’m bettin’ yu can guess what it is.”

 
          
The
girl sat down. “I haven’t the remotest idea,” she said.

 
          
“I’ve
allus understood that a pretty gal is wise when a fella comes a-courtin’,” he
leered.

 
          
“Courting?
You?”
Tonia cried. He was right, she had known, but
now that the thing had actually happened, the enormity of it staggered her.

 
          
“Why not?
I ain’t so old,” he urged. “See here, girl, I
don’t have the trick o’ pretty speeches, but I’m askin’ yu to marry me. As my
wife yu’ll be somebody; I got the dollars.”

 
          
“You
can leave that entirely out of it,” Tonia said quietly. “For the rest, I don’t
like you, Air.
Raven,
and I am already promised.”

 
          
“To Andy Bordene, huh?—the half-wit who, when I say the word, won’t
be worth ten cents.”

 
          
“And
even then preferable to one who makes his money by selling poison to poor
fools, cheating at cards, and stealing other folks’ cattle,” she flamed.

 
          
The
half-breed’s yellow cheeks burned redly at the accusation, and his little eyes
were alight with rage as he saw his hopes go glimmering. But she was lovely and
desirable even in her anger, and he fought to control the passion that devoured
him.

 
          
“So
yu think I’m a rustler, huh?” he said. “Well, I’ll tell yu somethin’. When I
shot Jevons, it was for yore sake. The cattle he was charged with stealin’ were
handed over, on the quiet, by yore manager.”

 
          
“Nothing of the kind.
The cattle were mine, and he had my
permission to take them,” she said hotly.

 
          
“After
he had crawfished, mebbe,” the man said shrewdly. “Shucks!
war-talk
won’t get us anywheres. What yu gotta understand is that it depends on yu
whether Bordene gits another chance.”

 
          
To
his astonishment she laughed outright. “I am quite aware of it,” was her reply.
“That is why Uncle Reuben has gone to Sweetwater.”

 
          
The
merriment and triumphant tone brought a deeper scowl on the face of the
unwelcome suitor, but, to her chagrin, he showed no discomfiture. On the
contrary, a wintry smile distorted his thin lips.

 
          
“If
he’s expectin’ to git a loan at the bank on the Double S he’s due for a
disappointment,” he stated.

 
          
It
was now Tonia’s turn to be surprised. “I don’t know what you mean,” she said.

 
          
“Yu
will,” he sneered, and added harshly. “Look here, girl, yu’ve been takin’ a
middlin’ high hand with me, an’ so far I’ve let you run on the rope. But the
rope’s
there,
an’ it’s time yu took a tumble.” He
waved a hand at the range lying before them. “Yu think yu own all this?” he
asked, and, when she nodded, “Well, yu don’t, an’ that’s why the Sweetwater
bank won’t lend yu money on it.”

 
          
“You
must be crazy,” Tonia said.

 
          
He
grinned wolfishly. “Not any.” He drew a paper from his pocket. “This is a deed
o’ mortgage on the Double S, executed by yore father shortly afore he—died, an’
given to me as security for sixty thousand dollars lent by me. Look for
yourself.”