Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 07 - Sudden Rides Again(1938) (7 page)

 
          
Sudden
excused. “Ain’t called for their guns, I s’pose?”

 
          
It
appeared they had. Soon after the cowboys set out forthe Double K, a youth
arrived, paid the money, and re-deemed the weapons. He left a message.

 
          
“I
was to tell de stranger dat he’ll suah see dem guns some mo’,” the
negro
said.

 
          
Frosty
chuckled. “I’ll take to totin’ a couple, Jim; that’ll even up.”

 
          
They
devoured a meal, praised the cook until her grin of gratification threatened to
engulf her ears, and headed once more for the Double K. By the time they
reached it, riders were coming in from the range.

 
          
“Yu’ll
bring the strength up to fifteen, includin’ the foreman,” Frosty informed. “
They’s
a middlin’ good crew, though—well, mebbe it’s my
fault.”

 
          
“That
they’s
a good crew?” came the artless question.

 
          
“No,
yu flathead, an’ don’t yu go to copyin’ the 01’ Man—one like him is all this
ranch’ll stand,” Frosty said. “My fault if I can’t like one or two as well as
the rest. I expect I don’t make friends easy.”

 
          
“I’ve
noticed it,” Sudden remarked gravely. “Yu need to know a fella a long, long
whiles before he captures yore youthful affection.”

 
          
“Oh,
go to—chapel,” the young man told him, and gave his mount a swipe on the rump
which sent it careering into the corral.

 
          
As
they moved towards the bunkhouse a chubby, round-face cowboy approached, and
was promptly hailed:

 
          
“Hi,
Lazy, say `Howdy’ to Jim Green, who’s come to help the rest of us do yore job
for yu.”

 
          
The
maligned one grinned and shoved out a paw. “Pleased to meetcha,” he said, “My
name’s `Lacey’; these ignorant cow-wrestlers mis-pronounce it ‘
cause
I do more work than any three of ‘ern.” He looked at
Frosty. “
Steve’s wantin’
to know where yu bin loafin’
all the day?”

 
          
“Tell
him to ask the Colonel.”

 
          
The
Double K bunkhouse was a large one and the built-in bunks arranged along each
side left ample room for the long table which served for meals. At the far end
a door led to the kitchen. Most of the riders had already taken their seats and
were exchanging good-humoured banter when Frosty and his companions entered.
Frosty conducted the newcomer to the head of the table, where Lagley was
standing in conversation with a small, middle-aged man with ferrety eyes and a
sour expression. This was Turvey, supposed to be more or less in the foreman’s
confidence.

 
          
“Oh,
Steve, this is Jim Green,” Frosty announced. “I reckon the 01’ Man will have
told yu about him.”

 
          
The
foreman spun round and glared when he saw the stranger who had humiliated him.
Stark hostility shone in his eyes for an instant and as quickly died away. But
Sudden noted it.

 
          
“I
ain’t seen Keith,” Lagley said gruffly. “What was it he should ‘a’ told me?”

 
          
“Why, to put Jim on the pay-roll, o’ course.”

 
          
“No
`of course’ about it till I’ve spoke with the owner,” the foreman snapped.
“What yu bin doin’ to-day?”

 
          
“Better
ask him ‘bout that, too,” Frosty advised. “C’mon, Jim, let’s git started afore
these fellas wolf the lot.” And, as they found seats, “Me, I’m a small eater.”

 
          
“My
Gawd!” the tall, thin man on his left breathed fervently.

 
          
“He’s
sayin’ grace,” Frosty explained aloud. “Well brought up, Lanky was. Fact is
,
they brought him up so far he never had a chance to fill
out.”

 
          
“An’
he still ain’t, sittin’ next yu at meals,” the long one complained. “See here,
stranger, lemme tell yu a true tale. Frosty here once went to a barbecue an’
the rancher who was givin’ the party took him to where they
was
roasting the ox—whole. `There,’ he sez proudly, `how’ll that do yu?’ `It’ll
dome fine,’ Frosty replies. `But what are the other folks goin’ to have?’ “

 
          
The
story produced a burst of laughter in which the hero of it joined. “Lanky, if
yu on’y worked as well as yu lie, there’d be nothin’ for the rest of us to do,”
he complimented. “Fortunately, it ain’t possible.”

 
          
A
harsh voice from the top of the table suddenly stilled the hum of conversation.

 
          
“What’s
this I’m told o’ Black Sam committin’ sooicide?”

 
          
The
men looked up in surprise and shook their heads; save Frosty, not one of them
had heard of the happenings in Dugout the previous afternoon. An oldish,
grey-bearded puncher was the first to speak.

 
          
“That’s
bad news. I don’t cotton much to niggers, but Sam was a good sort, an’ I’m
sorry he’s passed out.”

 
          
“I
didn’t say he had—yet,” Lagley said.

 
          
“When
a fella has committed sooicide, he’s dead,” the other replied.
“Never knowed a case otherwise.”

 
          
“It
amounts to the same thing, Goudie,” the foreman retorted. “Sam flung four o’
the Imps out’n his saloon yestiddy. How long d’yu figure they’ll let him live?”

 
          
“Good
for Sam,” one of the younger men shouted.

 
          
But
the majority of the faces showed only concern.
“No, bad for
Sam,” Goudie corrected.
“Yo’re right, Steve; they’ll kill him—shore.”

 
          
“Yore
facts is wrong, Steve,” Frosty interjected, and gasped as Sudden’s elbow
administered a warning. “It was a stranger what throwed them bums out.” He went
on to tell the story, without, however, divulging that the chief actor was
present. The recital elicited both amusement and jubila- , tion.

 
          
“Beat
up four of ‘em with his bare fists an’ made ‘em
hock
their guns?” laughed one. “I’d ‘a’ give a blue stack to ‘a’ seen it.”

 
          
“I’d
shore like to meet that stranger—in friendship,” Lazy contributed, blissfully
unconscious that he was sitting next to him. “He must be a born fighter.”

 
          
“A
born fool, yu mean,” Lagley sneered. Suspicion suddenly came to him, and
without another word, he got up and went out. Scowling heavily, he strode to
the ranch-house, to find the owner sitting on the verandah.

 
          
“Well,
Lagley, what is troubling you?” Keith asked. “That new hand yu took on. What
d’yu know
about him?”

 
          
“Do
I have to tell you?”

 
          
“I’m
foreman, an’ responsible to yu for the men.”

 
          
“You
relieve me, I was beginning to think I was responsible to you,” came the
caustic response. “My knowledge of him is limited to the fact that he has done
what the rest of you cannot—administered a rebuff to some of those gaol-birds
from Hell City.”

 
          
“An’
sneaks off here hopin’ the Double K will protect him,” the foreman gibed.

 
          
“Nothing of the kind, he came at my invitation.
Have you
anything against him?”

 
          
“Don’t
like his looks,” was the sullen answer.

 
          
“A
pity,” the Colonel said. “What are you going to do about it—throw up your job?”

 
          
This
astounding suggestion, made in acid tones, completed the man’s discomfiture.
Inwardly seething with a rage he dared not show, he was quick to recognize his
danger; there were others in the outfit who could take his place, and this
cynical old tyrant might even … He writhed at the thought of being “given his
time” by the saturnine stranger.

 
          
“Yu
know I warn’t thinkin’
no
such thing, boss,” he
protested. “I was on’y figurin’ that when Satan learns we’ve hired that fella,
he’ll take action, that’s all.”

 
          
“Which
is another reason for hiring him,” Keith returned.”Do I need to ask that
scoundrel’s permission before I engage a hand?”

 
          
“I
guess not,” Lagley agreed. “It’s yore ranch, but don’t say I didn’t warn yu.
Why, this hombre might be one o’ Satan’s gang for all yu know.”

 
          
A
deep crease furrowed the rancher’s brow. “And so might you—for all I know,” he
said curtly. “I’m backing my judgment.”

 
          
He
turned to go into the house and so missed the malignant glare of resentment
which followed him.

 
          
The
foreman’s abrupt departure from the table spoiled no one’s appetite, and the
plump, red-faced cook was kept busy. Sudden paid him a compliment.

 
          
“Don’t
flatter him, Jim,” Frosty begged. “He’s improvin’, but he’s a long ways behind
Black Sam yet.”

 
          
“Which
yu can’t wonder, seem’ I never had his experience,” the cook said plaintively.

 
          
“What
experience?” Frosty incautiously asked.

 
          
“Sam
used to feed hawgs afore he
come
here,” the man of
pots and pans chuckled, and beat a hurried retreat into his own domain amid a
storm of merriment and abuse.

 
          
The
meal over, Frosty led the way outside, declining Lazy’s invitation to play
cards.

 
          
“Yo’re
ail broke an’ two-cent poker ain’t no game for a man,” was how he put it.

 
          
“Which
was why I asked yu,” the other shot back.

 
          
Seated
on the long bench in front of the bunkhouse the two cowboys smoked in silence
for a while. Frosty commenced the conversation.

 
          
“What
yu think o’ the outfit?”

 
          
“Good
bunch to get along with, I’d say.”

 
          
“Shore,
but—as I told yu—there’s one or two—drawbacks.”

 
          
“Bound
to be,” Sudden agreed, and his eyes crinkled a little at the corners. “The
foreman’s anxiety ‘bout yu to-day warn’t entirely due to affection.”

 
          
“No,
he
don’t
like me—which is certainly amazin’,” the
young man grinned. “The amount o’ sleep I’ve lost over that yu wouldn’t
believe.”

 
          
“Yo’re
right, I wouldn’t,” Sudden said. “He concealed his joy at the sight o’ me
pretty well, too.”

 
          
“Yeah,
didn’t like the 01’ Man not consultin’ him, I guess.”

 
          
“Mebbe,
but it’s odd, seem’ he promised me a job.”

 
          
Frosty’s
look of blank astonishment cried out for an explanation. When it had been
given, the Double K man whistled, and remarked:

 
          
“Well,
if yu ain’t a tight-mouth. So yu got the drop, set him afoot, an’ yo’re
surprised he ain’t glad to see yu. What did yu expect—thanks?” His expression
sobered. “Jokin’ on one side, Jim, it was a bad break; he ain’t the forgivin’
sort.”