Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 09 - Sudden Makes War(1942) (25 page)

 
          
He
had been searching the corpse.

 
          
“Better
take those, Dan; we might be able to trace ‘em,” Sudden advised. “An’ we’ll
bury this hombre if yu got no objection; I once saw him act mighty like a
man—for a Greaser.”

 
          
The
drive was resumed, and as Dover had predicted, they came across several of the
runaways, and so could deem themselves well out of what might easily have been
a disaster.

 
          
They
saw nothing of their unknown assailants, and as the latter part of the journey
was over a regular cattle-track, they reached their destination in good time.

 
          
The
business of handing over the herd did not take long, and after a satisfying
meal they drifted into the Paradise Saloon.

 
          
“Remember
this joint, Jim?” Dan asked.

 
          
Sudden
grinned; it was there he and the rancher had adjourned after the shooting test;
somehow it seemed a good time ago. Grouped at the bar, they discussed the
question of the return trip, whether to start at once, or wait for daybreak.
All of them were tired, but as Tiny finally expressed it:

 
          
“A
bed listens fine to me, Dan, but you on’y gotta say the word an’ I’m ready.”

 
          
“What
do you think, Jim?”

 
          
Sudden
did not reply for a moment; his gaze was on a short, shabby, bearded fellow
sitting a few feet away. Then he asked, “Yu acquainted with the landlord o’
this shebang, Dan?”

 
          
And
when the young man nodded, “Find out if he knows the whiskery gent just behind
yu.”

 
          
The
rancher ordered another round of drinks and, after a whispered colloquy with
the proprietor, turned to his friends. “Never set eyes on him afore, but that
don’t mean much—strangers ain’t no novelty in the Bend.”

 
          
“Mebbe
not,” Sudden replied, and raising his voice a little, “We’d better be on our
way.”

 
          
The
last to leave, he saw—by the aid of a mirror—that the bearded man was also
making for the door. Leading his party along the street, he swung round a
corner and halted. Almost immediately the object of his suspicion appeared, and
seeing the group of cowboys, hesitated and then slunk past.

 
          
“He
was interested in our conversation, an’ now he follows us. What d’yu make o’
that, Dan?”

 
          
“I’m
no good at riddles, Jim. You tell me.”

 
          
“Those
coyotes back on the trail missed the beef, but if they knowed when to expect
us, they might try for the dollars.”

 
          
“Likely
enough, an’ that hombre would have plenty time to get here ahead o’ us,” Dover
admitted. “What’s our best plan?”

 
          
“With
that fella trailin’ us we got no hope o’ trickin’ ‘em. I vote we catch some
sleep an’ start in the mornin’,” was Sudden’s suggestion. “If they waylay us,
we’ll stand a better chance in the daylight.”

 
          
The
others agreed that this was the wisest course, and being already short of one
night’s rest, they gave the attractions of the town the go-by, and turned in
early.

 
          
There
was no sign of the bearded man when they set off soon after daybreak, but none
of them doubted his being in the vicinity. Sudden only grinned when Tiny mentioned
it. One precaution was taken: Dover called Sudden aside and slipped a packet
into his hand; it was the money received for the cattle.

 
          
“You
got the fastest hoss in the bunch,” he said. “If things get tight, make a dash
for it.”

 
          
“Unless
they’re watchin’ the trail, we’ll have no trouble.”

 
          
“They
may be, or it’s possible that jasper has gone on a’ready to tell ‘em we’re
comin’.”

 
          
“He
ain’t,” Sudden chuckled. “Over-keen, Mister Whiskers. He took the room next to
mine, an’ when I found my key would open his door, I slipped in, hawg-tied an’
gagged him, in’ told the landlord my neighbour wanted to sleep late.”

 
          
Dover
laughed. “Gosh, Jim, you don’t miss any bets,” he complimented. “I’m damn glad
you didn’t go over to Trenton.”

 
          
“Well,
that settles Whiskers, but we still gotta remember that the others may be the
patient kind.”

 
          
The
three cowboys had to be told, and they looked at Sudden with added respect.
Blister’s tribute amused them all.

 
          
“Jim,”
he said gravely. “One o’ these days you and
me
won’t
have a game o’ poker.”

 
          
“Blister,”
was the solemn reply.
“When it comes to cards.
yu
wouldn’t believe how dumb I am.”

 
          
“Yo’re
dead right, I wouldn’t,” Blister agreed.

 
          
Having
no herd to hamper them, a good pace could be maintained. Sudden led the party,
and Dan brought up the rear, each man riding a little behind the next so that
all of them could not be covered at once. The first score of miles were
negotiated without incident, and then they drew near to where the stampede had
happened. The sun was climbing the sky, and in the growing heat they did not
hasten; it was necessary to spare the horses in case speed should be urgently
needed.

 
          
East
of the plateau, as Sudden remembered, the trail traversed a shallow gully, both
walls of which were hedged by thick brush. Immediately on entering this, he
slackened pace still more, eyes alert. Halfway through the sun glinted on
something in the depths of a bush; it was the barrel of a rifle, and directly
opposite was another.

 
          
“Shove
‘em up,” barked a voice. “We got you set—both sides.”

 
          
Sudden’s
reins were already twisted round the saddle-horn his knees told the horse what
to do. When, in apparent obedience to the order, his hands rose, a gun was in
each, spouting flame and lead. Left and right, the shots crashed, the
rifle-barrels disappeared—one exploding harmlessly—and there was a sound of
breaking twigs and violent movement in the veil of vegetation. At the same
instant, the black sprang onward, a few mighty bounds carrying it clear of the
gully. The rest of the party followed, bending low and raking the brush with
their revolvers. Scattered, ill-aimed replies came from the ambushers. When he
had ridden about a mile, Sudden waited for his companions.

 
          
“Anybody
hurt?” he wanted to know. “What’s the matter with yu, Noisy?”

 
          
“Ain’t nothin’,”
the silent one replied.
“Just
a graze.”

 
          
“We’ll
tie it up,” the puncher said. “I figure them fellas have had a full meal.”

 
          
The
“graze” proved to be a nasty flesh-wound in the forearm, and when this had been
attended to they went on their way. Blister and Tiny, riding together,
discussed the occurrence.

 
          
“I
never see his
han’s
move, but both guns was out an’
workin’. I’ll bet he got both
them
smarties,” the big
cowboy remarked.

 
          
“Smart
nothin’—a pair o’ bunglers,” said a quiet voice behind. “Lemme give yu a tip,
Tiny; next time yu go bushwhackin’, don’t show yore gun; the slant o’ the
barrel tells the other fella where to aim.”

 
          
“Speakin’
from experience, Jim?” Tiny came back. “Shore,” Sudden grinned. “I was a
road-agent afore I came down in the world an’ had to take to punchin’.”

 
          
In
due course they reached the Circle Dot, and once more the bunkhouse had a story
to hear. Blister told it, finishing in characteristic fashion:

 
          
“An’
after the ruckus, the on’y trouble we had was listenin’ to Noisy yowlin’ like a
sick cat over that triflin’ scratch he got.”

 
          
“Turn
anythin’ Blister sez the other way round an’ yo’re liable to git the truth,”
the wounded man replied, a statement which evoked a general chorus of “Yo’re
tellin’ us.”

 
          
Miss
Maitland and Malachi had walked as far as the cemetery. It was, as he had told
Miss Trenton, a pretty place, though the oblong mounds of stones—several with
staggering, homemade wooden crosses—did not add to its beauty. The customary
bitter expression was absent from the man’s clever face.

 
          
“They
all seem to be nameless,” the girl commented.

 
          
“Rainbow
has no monumental mason yet,” he told her, and pointed to the most recent heap.
“That is the resting-place of Dave Dover, who was kind to every living
thing—except an enemy.” A touch of his old sarcastic humour returned. “Yet, if
any other citizen had brought you here, the grave he would have shown with
pride would have been that of a scoundrel who killed seven people—and he wasn’t
a doctor. The town hanged him, most justly; he was a fool—he should have taken
a degree before indulging his appetite for blood.”

 
          
She
did not smile. “I don’t like to hear you’ joke about.
your
profession,” she said. “Great soldiers, who use their lives to take life, are
honoured, but a doctor, who devotes himself to saving life receives—what?”

 
          
“All
that every human being wins in the end—that,” he said flippantly, and pointed
to the nearest grave.

 
          
“You
are not yourself to-day,” she reproved.

 
          
“That’s
the trouble—I am,” he replied cynically. “Forgive me, Miss Maitland; I
sometimes talk, and act, like an idiot. What I really wanted to tell you was
that I am going away.”

 
          
The
colour came into her cheeks and receded; she had suddenly realized what this
man’s absence would mean. It had begun in pity on her part for one
who
, still young and talented, was leading an aimless,
sordid existence. A bed in a shabby hotel, meals at an eating-house, and many
hours of every day in saloons; the tragedy of it shocked her. And now … She
tried to speak casually:

 
          
“Are
you going for good?”

 
          
“For
my own good, I hope,” he smiled. “Would it matter?”

 
          
“I
have not so many friends,” she told him, and there was a note in her voice
which brought a gleam into his eyes.

 
          
“I
expect to be away only some two or three weeks,” he said.
“Where,
when, and why, I am not at liberty to tell even you.
The town—if it
troubles to ask—will be informed that I have gone East, and supply its own
reason—a debauch.”

 
          
“But—you
have been—”

 
          
“Abstemious lately?
Precisely, and therefore the wiseacres
will argue that a breaking-out was inevitable.” He saw the fear in her glance.
“No, it isn’t that; if it were, I would stay here and be damned to them.”

 
          
She
smiled again; this was the old Malachi, reckless, contemptuous, but likeable.
They spoke only of trivialities on the way to Rainbow, but when parting,
Malachi said, “You will be glad when I return, Kate?”

 
          
“Yes—Philip,”
she replied.

 
          
“That
is all I need to know,” he murmured. “I shall come back—sane.”