Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 09 - Sudden Makes War(1942) (19 page)

 
          
“More
preparations against your own kind?” she asked sarcastically.

 
          
“Precautions
is
a better word,” he corrected. “An’ don’t you call
the Wagon-wheel outfit my kind—they ain’t. Anyways, this happens to be a
present for a good boy. I fancy you know him.”

 
          
“Yorky?”

 
          
“The same.
He did me a service an’ I want to even up.”

 
          
“Wasn’t
there anything else you could choose? He’s only a child.” She herself was less
than three years older.

 
          
“I
reckon he never was that, but he’s due to be some sort of a man, an’ we’d like
it to be a real one.”

 
          
“And
that will help?” she enquired, a little scornfully.
“Quite a
lot.
We’re gettin’ him interested in work on the range an’ this is part
of it. If you’d seen Yorky two months ago you wouldn’t recognize him.”

 
          
“Well,
I hope he’ll like his gift.”

 
          
“Like
it?” Dan laughed. “He’ll take it to bed with him.”

 
          
She
laughed too, and then her face sobered. “I must go,” she said. “Mister Garstone
brought me in, and is waiting.” Hat in hand, he watched the two meet, and pass
up the street together. The man’s face was registering disapproval when the
girl reached him, but all he said was:

 
          
“Had
the cowboy anything of interest to tell you?”

 
          
She
divined that he was jealous, and the thought thrilled, though she had not yet
troubled to analyse her own feeling regarding him. But she was young, and the
admiration of a physically attractive man, who had at least a semblance of
culture, could not be entirely unwelcome. Still, she had no intention of
letting him suspect this, and it was in rather a distant tone that she replied:

 
          
“I
was under the impression that Mister Dover owned a ranch.”

 
          
“Thinks
he does, but maybe he’s mistaken,” Garstone told her. “I wasn’t asking out of
curiosity, Miss Trenton. The Wagon-wheel and Circle Dot are practically at war,
and that fellow might have let slip information of value to us.”

 
          
“Our
conversation was confined to the youngest member of his outfit—the boy they
call yorky.”

 
          
“Member
of his outfit—that’s a good one,” Garstone sneered. “I’d call him a bit of
useless lumber.”

 
          
“Hardly
that, since Mister Dover has just purchased a present as a reward for good
work.”

 
          
“Dover
must have wanted a pocket picked.”

 
          
“You
must not speak ill of my admirers,” she said playfully.

 
          
“Why,
quite recently, he rode to the Wagon-wheel just to see where I lived. There’s
devotion.”

 
          
“The
devil he did?” Garstone said. “When was that?”

 
          
She
thought for a moment. “Oh yes, I remember; it was the day before that amusing
attempt to rob the train. How awfully sick the second party must have felt on
finding they had been anticipated, but it was childish to vent their spite on
poor uncle’s flour.”

 
          
Garstone
had little to say during the rest of the ride home, and seeing Bundy as they
approached the ranch-house, made his excuses to his companion, and rode towards
him. “Any news?” he asked.

 
          
“Plenty,”
the foreman frowned. “The fella who took the stuff back to the bank was atop of
a black hoss with a white blaze.”

 
          
“Green!”
Garstone exploded. “I knew it.”

 
          
“Then
you might ‘a’ opened up an’ saved me a journey,” the other said sourly.

 
          
“I
didn’t learn of it until a little while ago,” the big man replied, and repeated
what the girl had told him. “We heard a movement in that tree we were talking
under and put it down to birds.

 
          
That
young sneak must have seen us coming, and hopped up there to hide. He’d take
the tale back to Green, and that damned cowboy out-planned and made monkeys of
us. God! I’ll bet the Circle Dot riders haven’t stopped laughing yet.”

 
          
“They’ll
have somethin’ else to grin about afore I’ve done with ‘em,” the foreman
growled.

 
          
“As
for Green …” He tapped the butt of his gun. “He’s for hell.”

 
          
“The
trouble is, they know who were in it,” Garstone said, rather uneasily. “If they
split to Trenton …”

 
          
“Can’t
prove a thing—it’s their word agin ourn,” Bundy reassured. “As for puttin’ Zeb
wise, Dover wouldn’t do that if he knowed
the of
fool
was to be bumped off tomorrow. No, I ain’t worryin’ ‘bout that; it’s the pot
we’ve bin done out of. Why’n blazes didn’t I send a slug into that damned
tree?”

 
          
“No
use moaning over a lost opportunity; we must find another. Trenton has a
scheme; perhaps that will be luckier—for us,” the Easterner said meaningly.
“How are you going to deal with Green?”

 
          
“Watch
my smoke,” the foreman said.

 
          
Garstone
shrugged. “Watch your step; he doesn’t look a simple proposition to me,” was
his reply. “Fie sports two guns.”

 
          
“A
bluff, meanin’ nothin’,” Bundy sneered. “Take it from me, the fella who can
really shoot on’y needs one gun an’ one shot; mos’ly there ain’t time for
more.”

 
          
In
the front room at the Circle Dot, Yorky was clutching the Winchester and
scabbard Dan had brought home and presented to him. Usually loquacious enough,
his gratitude and delight in this new possession nearly deprived him of speech.

 
          
“I
dunno—how ter—thank yer, Boss,” he stammered. “I didn’t do nuttin’—it was jus’
blind luck, an’ I …” He bogged down completely.

 
          
“Cut
the cackle, Yorky,” Dan said kindly. “
you
did
a-plenty, an’ I’m rememberin’ it. Jim’ll show you how to handle the gun, an’
you got all outdoors to blaze away in. Now, I’m bettin’ you wanta cut along an’
show the boys.”

 
          
“You
win, Boss,” Yorky grinned, and made for the door. There he paused to add, “I
ain’t forgettin’ this—ever,” and was gone.

 
          
“I’m
thinkin’ that li’l of Noo York has lost a citizen,” Burke laughed.

 
          
“An’
Rainbow gains one, thanks to Jim,” Dover said.

 
          
“Rubbish,”
the puncher replied.
“How long d’yu s’pose afore one o’ them
Wagon-wheel wastrels comes a-gunnin’ for me?”

 
          
“But
why?” they both asked.

 
          
“I
rode my own hoss into the Bend; somebody must ‘a’ spotted it. I needed Nigger
to make shore o’ gettin’ there before the train; I did it easy—the country
bein’ less difficult than I figured.”

 
          
“It
was certainly a risk, but you would have it thataway,” Dan said, so seriously
that the puncher laughed.

 
          
“Shucks!
Fella who never takes one, takes nothin’,” he rejoined. “Mebbe I’m wrong.”

 
          
And
when a week passed without anything occurring to disturb the serenity of the
Circle Dot, it began to appear so. Every morning Yorky would depart for what
the outfit called his “cure,” the cherished rifle slapping against his pony’s
ribs. and would be absent for hours, frightening the birds, and making life a
misery for any wandering jack-rabbit or coyote so unfortunate as to come within
range, to return, tired but happy, and with a capacity for food which drew from
the cook the ironical suggestion that he had contracted “Wur-r-ms.”

 
          
“Gwan,
yer human gas-bag,” Yorky retorted, when the accusation was made. “I’m a small
eater.”

 
          
“Shure
it’s so, but ye pack away enough for wan twice the size o’ ye,” Paddy told him.

 
          
When
late afternoon came and brought no sign of the boy, the cook grew anxious, and
went to the foreman. “Faith, he’ll not be missin’ a meal willin’,” he said.

 
          
Burke
looked grave; it was no country for a tenderfoot to get lost in, and there was
a possibility of accident. He told the cook he would send the men out again as
they came in.

 
          
Sudden,
with Blister and Tiny were the first to
arrive,
and
they set off at once for the pool, which yorky made the starting-point of his
excursions. They found plenty of tracks, but it was impossible to tell which
were the most recent.

 
          
“Spread
out fan-wise, but keep within hail,” Sudden said. “If he’s hurt, whoever finds
him may need help.”

 
          
The
ground was fairly open, with thickets of scrub here and there, most of them too
dense and thorny for anything but a tough-hided animal to penetrate. Save for a
brief glance, the searchers paid them no attention; neither Yorky nor his mount
would fancy their exploration.

 
          
The
short, dried grass showed no marks, and Sudden rode straight on, trusting to
luck. It came his way, for after they had left the pool several miles behind, a
horseman loped from the far side of a larger patch of brush some hundreds of
yards
ahead,
and at the sight of the newcomer spurred
his pony in an evident attempt to escape.

 
          
Sudden
shouted a command to halt, but no notice being taken, he spoke a word which
galvanized the black into instant action; like a living thunderbolt, the animal
shot forward, the ground sliding beneath the spurning hooves and the sound of
them clearly reached the fugitive. A quick backward look, an oath, and
something fell from his hand. Without slackening pace, Sudden swung down
sideways, one legcrooked across the saddle, secured the object, and
straightened up. A glance showed him that it was Yorky’s rifle. He was now only
a dozen yards away from his quarry; his hand went first to his gun, then to his
rope. The coils spun out, the loop settled over the shoulders of the runaway,
and the black stopped as though shot. Seconds later, the snared man was plucked
from his seat as by a giant hand, to be flung heavily on his back. Sudden
dismounted,
his face pitiless. The other two cowboys, who
had heard his shout, now came up.

 
          
“Why
did yu run, Bundy?” was the first question.

 
          
“Didn’t
wanta git shot in the back,” was the impudent reply.

 
          
“Didn’t
like yore own medicine, huh?” Sudden went on, and did not fail to note the
flicker in the man’s eyes. “Yu came damn near gettin’ a dose, would have, if I
hadn’t wanted some information.”

 
          
“Go
ahead. Mebbe I’ll give it.”

 
          
“Mebbe
you’d better; I’ve got ways o’ persuadin’ folk—ask yore friend Flint, if yu
ever see him again. Yu can stand up on yore hind-legs an’ shuck the rope. I
don’t s’pose yu’ll try anythin’ but I hope—yu will.” When the man was on his
feet, he added sharply: “Where did yu get that gun yu dropped?”

 
          
“Found
it.”

 
          
“Right.
I’m lookin’ for the owner, an’
yo’re
goin’ to help. Lead his hoss, Tiny—the gent prefers to walk.”