Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 07 - Sudden Rides Again(1938) (23 page)

 
          
“Gives
me the creeps, that paintin’ o’ yores,” he remarked. “
Him
there with his six-shooter trained on me allatlme. D’yu
mind
if I put a coupla pills through his eyes, just to show him?”

 
          
“I
certainly do mind,” was the instant reply. “I have fondness for that canvas, it
is a work of art, and bullet-holes wouldn’t improve it.”

 
          
Sudden
laughed; he had noted the gleam of apprehension in the dull eyes, and it told
him that his suspicion was correct—the Chief was well protected.

 
          
“Shucks,
I was on’y joshin’,” he said. “Sold them steers I stole?”

 
          
Satan
looked sharply at him, but the cowboy’s expression was serious. “Not yet, the
beasts must be worked on first,” he replied.

 
          
“I’m
pretty good at blottin’ brands.”

 
          
“No
doubt, but that can wait—the herd is in a safe place. Are you short of money?”

 
          
“Not
any,” Sudden assured him, adding with a grin, “Them Double K boys don’t know
the first thing ‘bout poker.”

 
          
He
came away from the interview conscious of two failures. The attack on Scar had
been intended, mainly, to drive the man and his intimates from Hell City, thus
weakening the bandit force. His enquiry about the cattle was inspired by the
hope of a hint as to their whereabouts, but Satan was giving nothing away.
Well, he must find them.

 
          
Others
also were concerned about the stolen stock, though they knew where it was to be
found. Roden, and his three shadows, sitting round a table in the saloon, were
ostensibly playing poker, but the game was but an excuse for a conference. And,
naturally, Sudden was the subject of the discussion.

 
          
“There
ain’t room in Hell City for him an’ us,” Scar said. “We gotta down the—.”

 
          
“Yeah,
an’ make a quick getaway,” Squint added. “Even if he don’t know—an’ there ain’t
much he misses—the Chief will pin it on to us, an’ we ain’t too popular in that
quartz just now.”

 
          
“For
which we gotta thank that cursed cowpunch,” Coger said.

 
          
“We’ll
thank him—our own way,” Scar growled. “I’d like to see Muley take the flesh
off’n him in strips. The point is, we don’t wanta go empty-handed.”

 
          
“You
said it all,” Daggs agreed. “The Chief must have a lot o’ coin hid up in his
place. What about us interviewin’ him, strictly private, an’—”

 
          
Scar’s
scornful laugh cut him short. “Ever seen him
play
with
a gun?
Thought not.
I’m tellin’ you, he’s better than
Butch or Sudden. One bright fella tried yore idea an’ was dead before he could
pull. Besides, there’s allus Silver behind you. No, gents, that flea won’t
jump. Also, I know a safer dodge—the cattle.”

 
          
Daggs,
who was dealing, slapped the pack on the table with an expression of approval.
“Scar, yo’re a great man,” he said. “There’s on’y them two Mex boys in charge.”

 
          
“Git
the herd away to a safe place where we can lie doggo for a spell, change the
brands, drive north, an’ sell,” Scar went on.

 
          
“The
Chief’ll think the Double K has stole ‘em back,” Squint chortled. “Won’t he be
wild?”

 
          
“That’s
a good notion—we’ll make it look thataway,” Scar greed. “I’ll mosey over
tomorrow an’ sound the Greasers—
they’s
pretty sore
over Pedro gettin’ his. If they’ll throw in with us, we can use ‘em; it’s a big
bunch to handle.”

 
          
“Shore
is, but it means splittin’ the dinero six ways,” Coger objected.

 
          
“Does
it?” the other retorted meaningly. “Four of a kind allus beats a pair.”

 
          
Which promised ill for the Mexican herders.

 
          
“Wonder
what’s fetched that hombre out’n his blankets this early?”

 
          
Sudden,
peering through the grimy panes of the saloon window, watched Roden ride past,
evidently making for the western exit of the town.

 
          
“Looks like he’s changed his mind ‘bout leavin’ us after all.
Anyways, time spent watching him won’t ever be wasted.”

 
          
Devoutly
thankful for a meal already eaten, he secured his rifle and saddle, and in a
few moments, was on his way. The guardian of the gate regarded him with respect
and lost not an instant in opening; the man who had slain Butch was not to be
kept waiting.

 
          
“Yep,
Scar’s just ahead,” he said in reply to a question.
“Which
road?
There ain’t but one till you come to the fork, an’ you’ll catch
him afore then.”

 
          
The
puncher had his own opinion about this, but he made a show of haste until the
first bend afforded concealment, dropping then to a more leisurely pace; Scar
had not appeared to be in any hurry. Fortunately for his purpose, curves in the
trail—
a mere shelf along the mountainside—were
frequent, enabling him to approach his quarry unseen. Presently he saw that
they were nearing the fork, the left prong of which headed westwards into the
hills. Hidden behind a jutting spur of rock, he waited until Scar had swung
into it, and then followed. It proved to be a mere bridle-track, winding
amongst
miniature mountains
, through brush-cluttered
ravines and thickets of birch and scrub-oak. Only at rare intervals did he get
a glimpse of the man in front, but this did not worry him; the path was plain.

 
          
The
miles fell behind and Sudden was beginning to speculate as to whether the
ruffian was really bidding farewell to Hell City when he noticed they were
climbing again. Through a break in the trees he could see that the ascent ended
in a ragged rim of bare rock like the broken battlements of a great fortress,
the approach to which was masked by a scanty covering of mesquite, catclaw, and
other thorny growths.

 
          
He
waited until he saw Scar disappear behind a boulder and then toiled laboriously
up the slope. It took longer than he expected, for the trail twisted
serpent-like around
patches )f
cactus, the dreaded
cholla, its cruel spines glistening frostily in the sunshine. Arrived at the
top, he saw a breach in the stone rampart, and through it, a scene which drew
from him a low whistle of wonderment.

 
          
Before
him lay an almost circular hollow, thickly carpeted with grass, and divided by
a line of willows which indicated a running stream, from which the ground rose
gently at first, and then steeply, to a saw-toothed ring of grey cliff. The
place, as he learned later, was known as the Devil’s Bowl, and me look told him
that it was an ideal spot from a rustler’s point of view. So the presence of a
herd of cattle, grazing near _he water, did not surprise him. He was too far
away to decipher the brands.

 
          
“Must
be over five hundred head,” he muttered.

 
          
He
watched Roden ride along the side of the valley to a log shack built in the
shade of a group of pines, heard his hail, and saw two men run out to meet him.
Their attire told him they were Mexicans, and the visitor appeared to be
welcome, the more so when on dismounting, he produced a couple of bottles from
his saddle-bags, for one of them slapped his comrade on the back. Seating
themselves on a grassy bank outside the hut the three fell to drinking. Sudden
could see no way of overhearing the
conversation,
and
having learned what he wanted, left them to it.

 
          
Instead
of taking the back trail he worked southwards round the Bowl, and presently, as
he had expected, came upon a cattle-track leading up to another break in the
wall of the valley. He noted that all the hoofprints pointed in one
direction—towards the hiding-place; this was where the stolen steers had been
brought in, and therefore … A humorous quirk creased the corners of his mouth
as he urged his mount along the
telltales
traces.

 
          
“Step
lively, Nig,” he said. “We’ve a fine chance to give Mister Satan a kick where
he sits if that Twin Diamond fella ain’t dippy.”

 
          
For
an hour he followed the trodden road, which ran through low hills like a
carelessly flung rope, winding this way and that, to avoid obstacles likely to
hinder the progress of a herd, and came to a broad stretch of powdery sand, the
surface swept smooth by the wind; on the edge of this the hoofprints ceased
abruptly.

 
          
This
diminutive desert was not extensive, for he could see more hills and broken
country on the far side, but it was big enough to make the task of finding
where the cattle had entered it a long and tiring one. The puncher decided it
was not worth while, and skirting the arid area, headed for where he believed
the Twin Diamond ranch to be. Mile after mile he rode, trusting to his
plainsman’s sense of direction, and presently pulled up outside the dilapidated
homestead. His shout brought its owner to the door, a pistol in one hand, an
oily rag in the other. At the sight of the gun the visitor’s eyes narrowed.

 
          
“Just
cleanin’ her up,” the rancher explained. “Thought
I
reckernized the hoss but there’s other blacks in this neck o’ the woods.
Light an’ help yoreself to a seat.”

 
          
He
laid his weapon on the bench as he spoke. Sudden got down and trailed his
reins.

 
          
“Do
yu allus clean a gun when she’s loaded?” he asked sardonically.

 
          
“Me,
I’m a poor liar,” Merry laughed. “Fact is, I warn’t just lookin’ for yu to
call—yu left us a shade abrupt the other night.”

 
          
“My
neck suits me the way it is, an’ I don’t reckon Keith can improve it any.”

 
          
“Yu
can take it I ain’t got
no
ambition thataway. What’s
yore errand?”

 
          
“I
thought mebbe yu’d like to get yore cows back.”

 
          
The
other’s face grew hard. “Doublecrossin’ yore new boss, huh?” he said, and when
the cowboy’s eyebrows rose, “Yo’re wearin’ his brand.”

 
          
“Shore
forgot that, an’ yu’d better do the same—I ain’t explainin’,” Sudden shrugged.
“If yu want the steers, I can tell yu where to find ‘em.”

 
          
“What’s
yore price?” the rancher asked.

 
          
The
puncher stood up. “I allowed yu had sense, which is why I took a chance an’
came here. Yu can go to blazes.”

 
          
“Wait
a minute,” Merry cried. “I take that back. I guess I’m thick in the head as
well as body, but I don’t savvy yore game.”

 
          
“Keith
hired me to fight Hell City, an’ when things looked ugly he turned me
down—cold,” Sudden pointed out. “I didn’t know about the rustlin’ till I heard
it from him—as yu said just now, there’s other black hosses around. Well, he
may be finished with me, but I ain’t finished with the fella who framed me.”

 
          
“I
get yu,” Merry replied, after a moment’s pause. “Ken is a square man but he
can’t help rememberin’ he was once a little Gawd A’mighty on his plantation.
Where are the cattle?”

 
          
Sudden
described the spot and his journey to the Twin Diamond in detail. The fat man
nodded understandingly.

 
          
“That’s
clear; they’re usin’ the Devil’s Bowl, an’
it’s
one
damned good place for the purpose, too. Five hundred head, yu say, an’ all
wearin’ Ken’s brand or mine, I’ll bet a stack.”