Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 09 - Sudden Makes War(1942) (21 page)

 
          
Something
of this was in the puncher’s mind when Tiny reproached him for not settling the
affair straight-away after Bundy’s cowardly attempt had failed.

 
          
“I
wanted him to suffer, an’ I’ll bet right now he’s near wishin’ I’d downed him,”
Sudden replied harshly. “After what he fixed up for Yorky …” He turned to the
youth. “Mebbe yu oughta go away for a spell.”

 
          
“I’m
stayin’,” Yorky said stoutly. “
Me
an’ that foreman
feller ain’t finished yet.”

 
          
The
puncher smiled into the darkness, glad of this fresh proof that his protege was
game.

 
          
“Well,
keep clear o’ the Wagon-wheel, though it bothers me how they got hep. Anybody
see yu there?”

 
          
“I
met Miss Trenton on th’ way back,” the boy admitted.

 
          
“She
may’ve mentioned it, an’ if my hoss was spotted in the Bend, that’d be enough,”

 
          
Sudden
decided
.–
The whoop of welcome which went up when the
rest of the outfit saw that the missing one was of the party, broughta warmth
into the waif’s heart; these were his friends. In that moment the big city lost
him forever.

 
          
Trenton
and Garstone stared in undisguised astonishment when, in response to a summons
from the former, Bundy came to the ranch-house in the afternoon. He had reached
the Wagon-wheel about sunrise, almost dead on his feet, and dropping on the
pallet-bed—he had his own quarters—slept like a log from sheer exhaustion.
Despite his attempt to do so, he could not remove all traces of the terrible
treatment he had undergone; the blackened, swollen eyes, gashed lips, missing
teeth, and battered face told an eloquent tale.

 
          
“What
in hell’s happened to you?” Zeb enquired. “Been trampled on by a herd?”

 
          
The
foreman had his version ready. “I was ridin’ back last evenin’ when I run into
Green an’ two o’ the Circle Dot fellas. They come on me unawares, roped an’
threw me, an’ got my gun.

 
          
Then
they set about me—I’d no chance agin three, an’ one of ‘em that big chap they
call Tiny.

 
          
When
I was all in, they went off with my hoss. I had to hoof it home, an’
I warn’t in any good shape for that neither
.”

 
          
The
rancher’s face grew purple as he listened; he took the affair as a personal
insult.

 
          
“Three
to one?” he cried. “It’s a fine thing if my men have to ask the Circle Dot’s
permission to ride the range. I’ve a mind to call the boys an’ have it out with
Dover an’ his bullies right away.”

 
          
“What
would that get you?” Garstone asked.

 
          
“Somethin’
I’ve sworn to have—the Circle Dot,” Trenton replied.

 
          
“No,
only a forty thousand dollar mortgage which you couldn’t meet,” the other
returned coolly. “I don’t suppose Maitland would be any more generous to you.”

 
          
Trenton’s
bluster collapsed like a punctured balloon. “Yo’re right,” he said moodily.

 
          
“I
usually am,” Garstone agreed serenely. Modesty was not one of his weaknesses.

 
          
“If
yo’re worryin’ over payin’ my score you needn’t to,” Bundy growled. “I’ll ‘tend
to that my own self—int’rest an’ all.”

 
          
“Touching
the acquisition of the Circle Dot, we don’t seem to be getting any nearer,” the
Easterner remarked sarcastically. “Have you made any progress?”

 
          
“Very little.
Maitland might renew on the security of the
two ranches, though we owe him quite a lot already, but that would only mean
gettin’ deeper in. No, we’ll have to fall back on the plan I had in mind—to
find Red Rufe’s Cache.”

 
          
“A
tale for a tenderfoot?” the foreman fleered. “If that’s our on’y hope, we can
wish the Circle Dot a fond fare-youwell as’ no error.”

 
          
The
rancher’s face stiffened. “The thrashin’ seems to have destroyed yore manners
as well as beauty, Bundy,” he said coldly. “You can go.”

 
          
Like
a scolded dog the man came to heel instantly. “Sorry, Boss, I was
disappointed,” he pleaded. “If there’d bin anythin’ in that yarn, the Cache
would ‘a’ come to light by this; plenty has searched for it.”

 
          
“True,
but the Cloudy country is large and terribly difficult; unless one knew just
where to look, findin’ the proverbial needle in a haystack would be child’s
play in comparison.”

 
          
“And
you have this information?” Garstone asked eagerly. “Not quite, or I should
have made use of it before now,” Trenton replied. “This is how the matter
stands: Red Rufe was Dave Dover’s elder brother. He left Rainbow, went further
West
, an’ made a fortune and reputation as a gambler. Report
has it that he sent a letter to Dave, statin’ that he had hidden his
wealth,
an’ givin’ the approximate location—said to be in
the Cloudy Hills. A second message was to follow with instructions for findin’
the exact spot. This one miscarried, an’, quite by chance, came into my hands.”

 
          
“So
that’s why Flint and Rattray visited the Circle Dot?” Garstone said.

 
          
“Certainly.
I hoped they would find the first letter. Flint
was on the track of it when he made a fool of himself an’ got fired.”

 
          
“Then
you are not sure it is concealed in the Cloudy Hills?”

 
          
“No,
but the fellow who fetched the first letter said Rufe handed it to him there;
that’s all anyone knows except—Dover.”

 
          
Garstone
made a gesture of impatience. “That means our knowledge is useless,” he said
irritably.

 
          
“Yore
wits don’t seem to be workin’ this afternoon, Ches,” Trenton returned equably.

 
          
“Listen:
the Circle Dot needs money even more than we do; what do you suppose they will
do?”

 
          
“Try
to find the Cache, possibly.”

 
          
“Certainly,
I should say, an’ in doin’ so will give us the information we now lack,” the
rancher said triumphantly. “I’m havin’ a watch kept on their movements, an’
when they start, we’ll follow. Once we know the locality, we have the advantage
of being able to go straight to the hidin’-place while they are gropin’ in the
dark.”

 
          
“That’s
a great scheme, Boss,” Bundy complimented, his damaged features contorted in a
painful grin. “If we can collect the pot, we’ll have Dover an’ his crowd
yappin’ for mercy—an’ not gettin’ it.”

 
          
“It’s
undoubtedly a fine chance,” Garstone admitted, and he was looking at the
foreman when he spoke. “Any idea what the Cache consists of?”

 
          
“No
one knows,” Trenton replied. “Gold, in coin or dust, possibly paper too.”

 
          
“What
became of this Rufe person?”

 
          
“Vanished after the second message.
Went back to his
cardsharpin’, I expect, an’ got wiped out. He was a big fellow, very
upright—his back was the only straight thing about him. He had red hair, like
all the Devers, an’ a fiend of a temper, the sort of man to make more foes than
friends.”

 
          
“We
oughta be ready to set out on the word,” Bundy put in. “How many will you
want?”

 
          
“We
three, with Flint, Rattray, an’ another should be sufficient. We’ll need plenty
of supplies, an’ a small tent for my niece.”

 
          
“Takin’
her?” Bundy asked in surprise. “It ain’t a job for a dame.”

 
          
“Nonsense,”
the rancher said. “Just a little trip into the mountains; she’ll enjoy it. We
shall avoid trouble, an’ probably not encounter the other party at all.”

 
          
The
foreman was not satisfied, but Garstone did not support him, and after the
earlier rebuff he was taking no more risks; this thing was too good to miss.

 
          
Garstone
had not objected because the presence of Miss Trenton fitted in with his plans,
already partly formed, but which were now beginning to expand more widely than
either of his companions suspected, even Bundy, who was having thoughts of his
own.

 
          
That
same evening, at the Circle Dot, a very similar conversation was taking place.
Dan, who had been to Rainbow earlier in the day, broached the subject.

 
          
“I
had a talk with Maitland an’ there ain’t any possibility o’ the bank givin’ us
an extension,” he began. “Told me his people wouldn’t hear of it, an’ that—as a
business man—he agreed with ‘em. So that’s that.”

 
          
“An’
there’s no other way o’ raisin’ the wind?” Burke asked. “On’y one,” the rancher
replied. “We gotta find the Cache.” The foreman’s face was anything but
optimistic. “It’s one hell of a chance,” he muttered.

 
          
“Bill, if yu were in a poker game, with the cards runnin’ badly,
an’ had just one stake left, what would yu do?”
Sudden said.

 
          
“Bet
it, o’ course,” was the prompt reply.

 
          
“Shore
yu would,” the other grinned. “Well, that’s our position.
So
what?”

 
          
“I
ain’t baulkin’, Jim,” the foreman returned. “I’ve bin up agin the iron before.
Whatever Dan sez, goes, with me.”

 
          
“I
know that, ol’-timer,” Dover said. “An’ because I do, I’m goin’ to ask a
favour: I want you to stay here an’ look after the ranch; I’ll feel easier in
my mind with you in charge.”

 
          
Burke
made a brave effort to conceal his disappointment; he would have dearly loved
to make one of the search party, but he recognized that his employer was
right—it would be more than unwise for both of them to be absent; the
Wagon-wheel might seize the opportunity to try something.

 
          
“Very
well, Dan,” he agreed.
“Who you takin’?”

 
          
“No
call for a crowd,” Dan told him. “I figure that
myself
,
Jim, Tiny, Blister, an’ Hunch oughta be plenty.”

       
“Hunch?”
Bill
said in surprise.

 
          
“Yeah,
he knows the Cloudy district probably better than anybody around here, is a
good woodsman, an’ can cook an’ make camp. We might take Yorky along to
help—just as well for him to be outa the way till Bundy’s bruises lose some o’
their sting.”

 
          
“When
do you aim to start?”

 
          
“Soon
as we can arrange things,” Dan replied. “We’ll want some stores, which I’ll get
in town tomorrow.”

 
          
“An,
no one must know a word about it, not even the rest o’ the outfit,” Sudden
supplemented. “Also, we’ll slide out in the middle o’ the night.”

 
          
The
other two looked at him in astonishment. “What’s on yore mind, Jim?” Dan
questioned.

 
          
“Just
this:
the possessor o’ the second part o’ the directions
don’t
know where to begin searchin’, but he’s on’y gotta trail us to
find out.”