Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 02 - Sudden(1933) (17 page)

 
          
Whitey
could pump lead quicker’n anyone I ever see, not exceptin’ yu.”

 
          
“If
Green’s as good as that we gotta try somethin’ else,” King said musingly.

 
          
“Get
Luce to plug him from behind like he did Kit,” Mart proposed jocularly.

 
          
To
his surprise his brother took him seriously. “That’s an idea,” he said.

 
          
“Shucks,
I was jokin’,” the big man protested. “Why,
him
an’
Green are friendly.”

 
          
“An’
yu are a chump, Mart,” King grinned, slapping a genial hand on his shoulder.
“It’s a good thing the Burdette family has me to do the thinkin’.”

 
          
With
a smile on his face he went back to his philandering. He had staked, lost, and
must stake again; that was all there was to it. But, next time, he would see to
it that the deck was stacked.

 
          
“Honey,”
he said. “Do yu think it possible to bring down two birds with one stone?”

 
          
“It
must be difficult unless the birds are close together,” Lu Lavigne laughed.

 
          
“In
the case I have in mind, they would be some distance apart, which shorely
adds
to the merit o’ the performance.” Burdette chuckled,
and would tell her no more.

 
          
MRS.
LAVIGNE tripped daintily along the clumsy board sidewalk, not in the least
unconscious of the admiration she aroused. The wide, floppy straw hat she wore
shaded her face from the searching rays of the sun, but in no way concealed its
attractiveness, and from every citizen she encountered came a smiling greeting
or a respectful salutation, for the owner of “The Plaza” was not only a pretty
woman but—among the sterner sex, at least—a popular one. So that it was a shock
when a man she knew, head hunched and hatbrim pulled low, endeavoured to pass
without a word. Impulsively she caught his arm.

 
          
“Luce
Burdette!” she cried. “Which have you lost—your eyesight or your manners?”

 
          
The
boy stopped instantly, dragging his hat from his head. “Folks ain’t anxious to
know me these days, Lu,” he excused. “It mightn’t do yu any good to be seen
speakin’ to me. King…”

 
          
She
snapped her fingers.
“That, for King.
I choose my own
friends,” she said, and shrugged her shoulders. “For the rest, well, my
reputation is beyond repair, you know,” she laughed, albeit a trifle bitterly.

 
          
Her
kind, quizzical eyes studied him, noted the newborn lines in the young face,
and divined the deep-seated misery which possessed him.

 
          
“Yo’re
a good fella, Lu, an’ if ever I hear a man say different I’ll make him wish
he’d been born dumb,” Luce told her.

 
          
“Thank
you, Luce, but you won’t hear much from the men,” she replied. The acid touch
in her tone deepened. “It takes a woman to damn a woman.”

 
          
“An’
a man to damn a man,” he said with a wry smile. “Well, it’s shore good to know
I got one friend, Lu, an’ I’m thankin’ yu.”

 
          
“You
have more than that, boy. I’m guessing there’s another across the street right
now and—I’m sorry I stopped you.”

 
          
On
the other side of the churned-up, dusty strip which separated the buildings Nan
Purdie had just climbed to her saddle and was riding slowly away. To all
appearances, she did not see Luce and his companion. Mrs. Lavigne’s shrewd eyes
read the young man’s face.

 
          
“I
don’t think she saw you,” she said, well aware that this was not the truth. “If
you want to speak to her, don’t mind me.”

 
          
Luce
shook his head. “Miss Purdie ain’t got
no
use for a
Burdette,” he said, also meaning to mislead.

 
          
The
lady laughed. “You are terribly young, Luce,” she told him. “Some day you’ll
learn that a woman has a use for the Devil himself if she cares for him. There,
I’m getting sentimental in my old age, and forgetting one of the reasons for
stopping you. Tell your friend Green that a certain outfit is rather peeved at
losing its star gun-fighter, and will take any chance to even the score.”

 
          
“I’ll
give him the message, but if King knew yu sent it…”

 
          
“Oh,
shucks,” she responded. “Your big brother may have this town buffaloed, but I’m
not scared of him.”

 
          
“That’s
mighty interestin’,” drawled a harsh voice behind her, and King Burdette
stepped from the store outside which they were standing. How long he had been
there they had no means of knowing. He did not appear to be in a pleasant
humour, but his scowling face did not daunt the lady. Her shapely head lifted
and she faced him unflinchingly.

 
          
“‘Lo,
King, eavesdropping, eh?” she gibed. “Well, you know what they say about
listeners.”

 
          
Ignoring
her, he spoke to his brother. “So yo’re still around, huh?”

 
          
“Yu
see me,” Luce retorted. “Get yore guns back?”

 
          
The
red surged into King’s cheeks at the taunt. “Yu’ll step in my way once too
often, yu fool,” he threatened. “For now, make yoreself scarce; I’ve got
somewhat to say to this—lady.”

 
          
The
girl’s eyes flashed at the sneer on the last word, but with the sweetest of
smiles, she held out her hand to the younger man.

 
          
“So
long, Luce, and the best of luck,” she said. “Come and see me whenever you
like.”

 
          
When
he had gone, she turned to King and said lightly, “And what does your Majesty
want with me?”

 
          
He
was silent for a moment, his sullen gaze roving over her, absorbing the dark
beauty, noting how her soft draperies, wafted by the wanton wind, outlined her
perfect figure. She was a picture to stir the pulse of an anchorite, and King
Burdette was not that. But she must have a lesson—women, like horses, had to be
mastered. So he veiled the admiration in his bold eyes and said brusquely.

 
          
“What
were
yu sayin’ to that pup?”

 
          
“So
you didn’t listen?” she countered.

 
          
“I
was at the back o’ the store, an’ on’y come out in time to hear yu tellin’ the
town how brave yu are,” he said heavily.

 
          
“If
it requires courage not to sit up and beg at your order, I have it,” she
replied.

 
          
“However,
I don’t mind informing you that I was trying to cheer up that poor boy, and
also, I asked him to warn Green that your outfit is not particular how it
squares an account.”

 
          
“Yu
dared?” King stormed.

 
          
“Oh,
I’m brave—you said so yourself,” she mocked. “It is almost my only virtue.”

 
          
“What’s
yore interest in that damned cow-wrastler?” he rasped.

 
          
She
smiled contentedly; he was jealous, and therefore victory was hers. “I like
him,” she said easily. “We have one quality in common—courage; he gave your
hired killer more than an even break.”

 
          
“I
had nothin’ to do with that—it was a private affair—I reckon they had met
afore,” King defended.

 
          
“Oh,
yeah,” she murmured.

 
          
“Yu
don’t believe me?” he queried.

 
          
Her
eyes twinkled. “As if I could doubt you, George Washington Burdette,” she
reproached.

 
          
The
man glared at her. “Lu Lavigne,” he said thickly, “One day I shall twist that
slim neck o’ yores.”

 
          
“That
would be a pity—it has been admired,” she smiled. “Now, I’ve a score of
purchases to make. If Your Majesty has no further commands …” She slanted her
eyes at him and waited, demurely obedient.

 
          
Burdette
was recovering his poise. “Yo’re a provokin’ little devil,” he said. “Lemme
come an’ help with the shoppin’.”

 
          
The
girl elevated her hands in horror.
“Mercy me!
And what
of my character?” she cried.

 
          
“It
would be all over the town that we were setting up housekeeping together.”

 
          
“An’ why not?”
King said eagerly. “Come to the Circle B
an’—”

 
          
“Take
the peerless Miss Purdie’s leavings, were you going to say?” she asked sweetly.

 
          
The
change in his face astounded her; stark fury flamed from his eyes. Through his
clenched teeth he hissed, “So the young skunk blabbed, did he? Well, that’ll be
all, for him. I’ll…”

 
          
Terrified
at the result of her shot in the dark, she hastened to repair the damage. “If
you mean Luce, he said nothing to me of Miss Purdie and yourself,” she urged.
“It was a guess, King, just to tease you, and I’m sorry.”

 
          
He
scowled at her in savage doubt, but the dark eyes met his steadily, and he knew
that, whatever her faults, Lu Lavigne was not a liar. He nodded, as though in
answer to his own thought.

 
          
“I’m
takin’ yore word. If yu wanta do Luce a good turn, get him to punch the breeze;
this place ain’t big enough for both of us—an’ me, I’m aimin’ to stay. Shall I
see yu to-night?”

 
          
“I
can’t prevent you. I shall be attending to my business of helping men to forget
they are men,” she said wearily, and turned away.

 
          
King
Burdette strode up the street, his mind filled by two women. Honey-coloured hair
and blue eyes warred with black hair and eyes until, with a sardonic grin, the
man decided there was only one way out of the difficulty—he wanted, and would
have, both. “What King Burdette goes after, he gets,” he muttered darkly. As
for that cursed cowpuncher and Luce, they were obstacles in his way, and must
be dealt with. Whitey had failed, and even now that staggering fact seemed
hardly credible. A lurid oath escaped his lips, and a small urchin trailing
behind, trying to ape the great man’s walk, garnered with glee the—to
him—unmeaning words.

 
          
“Gee!
I’ll spring that one on Snubby,” he promised himself. “Bet it’ll make his
eyebrows climb some.”

 
          
The
passing of Whitey and the manner of it aroused great excitement in the
hunkhouse of the C P, and at once put the new foreman on a pinnacle. The
prowess of the dead gunman was not mere hearsay, two of the notches on his guns
having been acquired since his appearance in Windy, and it was commonly
believed that only one man in the district would have any chance against him in
an even break. This was King Burdette, and though the test had never been made,
there were those who held him the faster of the two. At supper, on the night
following the killing, the point was being discussed.

 
          
“King
is fast all right, but yu gotta remember that Green let Whitey git his gun
a’most clear before he started,” Curly pointed out.

 
          
“A
left-handed
shot,
an’ he put the pill plumb atween the
eyes,” Moody contributed.

 
          
“That’s
shootin’.”