Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 07 - Sudden Rides Again(1938) (32 page)

 
          
From
the shadows near the door, the one-time teamster emerged, his pig-eyes
glittering bestially as they rested on the victim’s bared shoulders.

 
          
“Can
you write?” Satan asked, and when the fellow shook his head, went on, with a
horrible laugh, “Then you must make your mark, a cross, Muley, so.” He gestured
with one hand. “Six
strokes,
and we will repeat the
dose daily until she unlocks her lips.”

 
          
Though
there was stark terror in her eyes, Anita uttered no sound, but the grip on the
torn raiment with
Which
she strove to cover her bosom
tightened, and she shivered. Muley was toying with his whip and feeding his
unsated lust for revenge upon the frail flesh he soon would mar forever. This
was better than Pedro. He was squaring his shoulders to begin his task when Sudden
spoke.

 
          
“Thrashin’
her won’t get yu no place, Satan; she can’t tell what she
don’t
know. I’m the fella yo’re after.”

 
          
He
had no sooner said the words than a gun was rammed into his ribs and Scar
warned, “No funny stuff, Sudden, or…”

 
          
His
frame rigid, the puncher continued his confession. “Yeah, I took yore
`guest’—the woman had nothin’ to do with it. A few nights ago, passin’ one o’
these rat-holes, I heard Silver’s voice, an’ bein’ curious, slipped in an’
listened. He was chuckin’ a chest, tryin’ to impress the gal with his own
importance, an’ was plenty drunk. It was me crawled up the rock, an’ I was
hidden in the window-hangin’s when yu paid yore visit last night.”

 
          
The
masked man’s face had lost its immobility; doubt was swiftly followed by certainty
and an insensate rage as he realized that this enigmatical stranger had
surprised his secret and now defied him. His usually glassy eyes flamed, and
for the moment, he was mad.

 
          
“By
God !
” he swore. “I’ll have your hide off for this,”
and motioned to Muley.

 
          
“Yo’re
forgettin’ somethin’, Satan,”
came
the icy reminder.
“I ain’t a mongrel, like Pedro,
nor
a woman; whippin’
won’t wring a word from me, an’ if I should chance to cash in, yu won’t see
yore friend Lander again.”

 
          
The
mention of the name brought a quick look from the bandit. He hesitated, and
then said abruptly “Roden, you and Muley can go. Take the woman with you, but
she is not to leave the town.”

 
          
They
filed out, Anita leading; she did not speak, or even glance at the puncher as
she passed, listless, and apparently indifferent. Her companions, dumbfounded
by this unexpected development, were also silent. When they had gone, the Chief
looked at Silver, who was awaiting his turn with obvious trepidation.

 
          
“It
seems you have been merely indiscreet,” he said. “Get to your post, or …”

 
          
He
tapped the butt of one of his revolvers and Sudden wondered was it a signal? He
heard the door open and shut, but it did not deceive him—Silver’s “post” would
be behind the picture; that the stunted man knew nothing of firearms he had
never credited for an instant. The Chief appeared to have regained his temper.

 
          
“This
is a most unfortunate occurrence, Sudden,” he began, “The fellow you released
was here for his own good. Dealtry is seeking him for the shooting of his son.
Now I did that killing—you see, I am frank with you—but I knew that Lander
would be fastened upon because there was bad blood between them. So he had to
be hidden—I could not let him suffer for my own act.”

 
          
“It
would ‘a’ cleared yu.” The callous comment was made with deliberation.

 
          
“True,
but he was a friend.”

 
          
“Makes
a difference, o’ course,” Sudden conceded. “Well, I ‘pear to ‘a’ gone to a lot
o’ trouble to make the wrong play, but that’s me—get a notion an’ rush at it
like an angry steer, without stoppin’ to think. Oughta seed he was contented
where he was.”

 
          
“His
conversation with me should have told you that.”

 
          
“Couldn’t
hear much, an’ I just hated the idea o’ sweatin’ up that cliff tor
nothin’ ;
I guess I didn’t give him any choice.’ “Who helped
you?”

 
          
Sudden
shook his head. “I ain’t tellin’. He warn’t one o’ yore folk, don’t know
anythin’, an’ all he did was fetch the hosses.”

 
          
To
his surprise, the bandit did not press the point. “Where is Lander now?”

 
          
“Dunno—I
just turned him loose,” the puncher replied, and his eyes creased at the
corners. “I had to get back.”

 
          
“I
can’t imagine why you meddled,” Satan said peevishly.

 
          
“Beats
me, too, lookin’ it over, but prisons is pizen to me, an’ that rock seemed a
sort o’ challenge. Sounds loco, but there it is. Say, s’pos’n I can round up
Mister Lander an’ bring him in again?”

 
          
“That’s
an idea,” Satan said. “I’ll admit I’m anxious about him; it would be awkward if
he fell into the sheriff’s hands.”

 
          
“Shore
would—for him,” Sudden grinned. “Leave it to me.”

 
          
He
went out and breathed deeply when he reached the open
air,
it had been a near thing. How far he had succeeded in deceiving the masked man
he could not tell, but he had saved the woman, and was himself still at liberty.
No doubt he would be watched, so when presently he passed Anita, it was with a
face of stone; she too showed no sign of recognition.

 
          
“She’s
got savvy,” he murmured, as he entered the store in search of tobacco.

 
          
Almost
on his heels, Silver came in, purchased six boxes of cartridges, and with a
sheepish look at the puncher, departed.

 
          
“
What’s he want
with all that gun-fodder?”

 
          
“
They’s
for his boss,” the tradesman said. “He’s my on’y
customer for thirty-eights, but he uses a hell of a lot of ‘em—practises every
darned day, Silver sez.”

 
          
Which
provided Sudden with fresh food for
thought,
and a
question for Dealtry when he next encountered him. Meanwhile, the man he had
left was sitting deep in doubt. Once more the puncher had him puzzled. Had he
really blundered blindly into the affair as he had stated, or …? He dismissed
the alternative with an oath and a shrug—the overweening vanity of his nature
made any stupidity in a fellow-being possible. The all-important secret of his
identity was still safe, but Keith’s freedom was a danger.

 
          
“He
would not dare to show his face at the Double K, Twin Diamond, or Red Rock,” he
mused. “He must be in hiding, and if Sudden knows where, he will lead me to
him.” He called Silver. “Arrange for that cowboy to be shadowed,” he ordered.
“If he is lost sight of, I will have your ears torn off, which would make you
still
more ugly
.”

 
          
The
dwarf nodded and hurried away, but when the door was between them he shook a
menacing fist at it. Incapable as his brutish senses were of finer feelings, he
remembered Anita’s gleaming shoulders and hated the man who would have made
them hideous.

 
          
His
exit was followed by the entrance of Belle Dalroy. Throwing her gloves and
quirt on the table, she dropped into a chair and crossed her legs, fully
conscious that her short riding-skirt displayed her shapely limbs to advantage.

 
          
“Heavens,
but it’s hot outside,” she said, and then, “What’s the matter, Jeff? You look
as though you’d lost a dollar and picked up a dime.”

 
          
The
unwinking gaze travelled over her from head to foot. She was a pretty woman,
even more than that, in her own style, but the man was comparing her with
another and found her lacking.

 
          
“So
you have been to Dugout?” he remarked, ignoring her question.

 
          
She
started.
“Who—?” she began, and laughed.
“Of course,
it would be reported to you.”

 
          
“You
might have turned off the trail,” he pointed out, and bent his head, thinking.
“It comes dimly to me; you met someone from the Double K ranch.”

 
          
This
time he certainly scored. “It is true,” she admitted. “I saw the Keith girl, in
the store, and she sailed past as though I wasn’t there.”

 
          
Satan
smiled. “She probably knows of our—friendship,” he said. “And if she still
cares for me …” He noted the tiny crease between her brows. “I haven’t seen her
for some time,” he lied. “She should be quite pretty.”

 
          
The
girl guessed his game—he had played it before; cruelty in any form was an
amusement to him.

 
          
“She
is beautiful,” Belle said with studied indifference. “Now that you have
disinherited yourself the ranch will go to her, I suppose? Is it a good one?”

 
          
“You
could ride for two days in any direction and find none to equal it.”

 
          
“And
you threw it away rather than marry her.”

 
          
“I
prefer to choose my own wife.” His lips curled maliciously. “It was a mistake,
no doubt, but mistakes can be rectified.”

 
          
His
meaning was plain enough, and despite her effort to control herself, a flush of
anger stained her cheeks.

 
          
“You
don’t exactly despise yourself, do you, Jeff?” she said. “You think, with your
record, that she would take you?”

 
          
“Love
is all-powerful,” he mocked. “It will find a way, and it forgives.”

 
          
“Someday
I may remind you of that,” she replied, and picking up her things, left him to
his reflections.

 
          
That
they were not of the pleasantest was evident from his expression. The loss of
the man whose dead body would slam the door on Satan the bandit and leave Lafe
Lander a free, wealthy, and unsuspected citizen had been a shrewd blow. Either
he must get Keith
back,
or … Already in that cunning,
unscrupulous brain another desperate design, bred of his conversation with
Belle Dalroy, was taking shape.

 
          
At
the Twin Diamond ranch Keith found that he had but moved to another prison; he
dared not show himself. The outfit knew there was a visitor whose presence must
not be spoken of, but—except the cook—no one saw him. He spent his time
reading, and gazing hungrily out over the range. The rancher was shocked at the
change two years had wrought: the gay, high-spirited youth he remembered had
become a moody man, silent for the most part, brooding over the perilous
position in which he was placed. The information he gleaned from Merry only
served to deepen his gloom as he realized the net of infamy from which he had
yet to escape.

 
          
“Who
is this cowboy—Jim, you called him—and why is he fighting Hell City if my
father fired him?” he asked.

 
          
Merry
told what he knew of Sudden. “He figures Satan framed him in that cattle raid
an’ aims to get even,” he finished.

 
          
“Five
hundred head and thirty thousand cash would settle his debt, you’d think, yet
he goes back to that hornets’ nest,” Keith said thoughtfully. “What more does
he want?”

 
          
“That
red-masked devil’s hair,” Merry replied grimly. “Jim’s a good payer. Frosty
told me that years gone he promised a dyin’ man he’d bring to book a couple o’
human skunks. He’s still searchin’, but I don’t reckon he’ll ever meet up with
‘em.” (The rancher was wrong, and the story of the finding has been recorded in
another place)) “If that’s the kind o’ hairpin he is, I’d hate to have him on
my trail.”