Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 04 - Sudden Outlawed(1934) (13 page)

 
          
The
crossing took time but went without a hitch, and Jeff breathed a sigh of relief
when the last steers climbed the far bank, shook themselves, and went to
peacefully grazing. The remuda followed, and then the wagon came lumbering up,
a sizable, trimmed tree-trunk lashed along each side. Drawn by its full team of
six mules, it rocked and slithered down the slope to the stream. The leaders
baulked at the water but the biting lash of the long whip stung their flanks
and threw them into the collars again.

 
          
With
a couple of riders on either side steadying it with their ropes, the wagon
proceeded slowly but majestically across, to be greeted with a cheer when the
dripping team hauled it safely up the bank.

 
          
The
foreman, who had followed the vehicle over, poked his head through the flaps at
the back. “How d she
go
, Sam?” he asked anxiously.

 
          
“Fine—never
jarred me none,” the invalid lied stoutly. “Get agoin’ soon as yu like; it does
me good to feel we’re movin’.” Jeff was not deceived; he knew quite well that
the crossing must have caused intense pain to the wounded man, but he also knew
Sam Eden. As he turned away, Carol jumped down lightly from the wagon.

 
          
“Jeff,
you’re a dear,” she said impulsively. “Of course it hurt him terribly although
we did all we could to spare him the jolts, but he bore it without a murmur. We
must push on; he’ll fret himself into a fever if we delay.”

 
          
The
foreman made unintelligible noises in his throat and was obviously glad when
Sandy rode up leading Carol’s pony. “Thought yu’d mebbe like a ride after the
boat-trip, ma’am,” he grinned.

 
          
She
thanked him, swung into the saddle, and loped along the trail. The cowboy’s
eyes followed her, until a slight cough from his companion recalled his
wandering thoughts.

 
          
“
She
shore can ride,” he remarked hastily, and then, “How’s
the ol’ Man makin’ it?”

 
          
“Pretty
good, considerin’,” the foreman told him, “an’ liable to raise Cain if that
wagon ain’t on the move pronto.” Sandy took the hint and found himself a job.

 
          
THE
long straggling line of men and beasts moved like a sluggish stream over the
apparently unending area of brown, sun-dried earth, cracked and fissured by the
fierce heat, and covered, for the most part, by short curly grass which, the
colour of hay, needed only rain to transform it into a carpet of brilliant
green. No tree, save an occasional thicket of stunted mesquite or live-oak, was
to be seen.

 
          
Uneventful
days had slid by since they crossed the Colorado, and the outfit was making the
most of an easy time. Lolling in their saddles, the riders had little to do
save check the ambition of any steer
who
seemed
disposed to stray too far. Even the foreman’s
lined,
leathery countenance wore an un wonted smile as he rode to Sudden’s side and
nodded at the surrounding scene.

 
          
“All
like this an’ it’d be easy, but it ain’t goin’ to be,” he remarked. “We got
most of our troubles ahead of us.”

 
          
“Yu
can say that any time, any place,” the cowboy grinned. “How’s the Ol’ Man?”

 
          
“He’s
a flamin’ merricle,” the foreman replied. “It’s a wonder that bullet didn’t
bounce off’n him.” Then his voice sobered. “I’d like to know who done it. Got
any ideas?”

 
          
Sudden
told of the moccasin marks and mentioned the Indian who had escaped when he
rescued Carol. Jeff shook his head.

 
          
“Might
be, o’ course,
redskins is
vindictive devils, but I
don’t think it an’ neither do yu,” he said shrewdly.

 
          
To
this the other made no reply. He was studying the broad, trampled track they
were following.

 
          
“Yu
figure this is Chisholm’s trail?” he asked.

 
          
“I’m
hopin’ so. Anyways, she’s good goin’ an’ pointin’ north, which is all we want,”
Jeff told him. His gaze travelled forward along the line of cattle to where
Sandy and Carol were riding together, and his eyes twinkled. “Yore friend is
cuttin’ yu out.”

 
          
Sudden
looked at him amusedly. “That was a mighty poor throw, ol’-timer,” he said.
“I’ve got somethin’ to do before I think o’ wedded bliss. Ever hear o’ fellas
called Webb an’ Peterson?”

 
          
“No,
but names ain’t nothin’ in these parts,” Jeff replied. “
yu
wantin” ‘em special, Jim?”

 
          
“I’m
hopin’ to run across ‘em,” Sudden said, and though there was no threat in the
words, the cold, passionless tone sent a chill down even the hardened spine of
the foreman.

 
          
That
evening, before supper, Sudden drew Sandy apart.

 
          
“If
yu can get yore mind off that lean, hatchet-faced female yu been ridin’ with
all day” he commenced.

 
          
“Jim,
she’s
an—
angel,” Sandy interrupted.

 
          
“Shore
she is,” his friend agreed dryly. “Likewise, she’s the daughter of a big
rancher, an’ yo’re just
an—
outlaw.”

 
          
“D’yu
think
I need remindin’ o’ that?” the boy asked, so
bitterly that Sudden’s heart smote him.

 
          
“After
all,
what’s the odds
?” he consoled. “I’ll bet her dad
blotted a few brands in the early days—most o’ the old settlers was afflicted
with defective eyesight when they happened onon a cow what looked lonely.”

 
          
This
did not have the effect he intended; Sandy flared up instantly. “Don’t yu dare
say it,” he cried. “Sam Eden never stole a cent’s worth in his life.”

 
          
Sudden
saw that he was really angry, his face flushed, and fists clenched. “Shucks,”
he said placatingly. “I ain’t sayin’ he did; they usen’t to call it stealin’.
Besides”—he smiled disarmingly—“she ain’t really his daughter, yu know.”

 
          
The
boy’s belligerent attitude vanished.
“Sorry, Jim.
I’m
a plain fool to lose my wool like this,” he apologized. “Yu wanted to ask me
somethin’?”

 
          
“Yeah,
what did Rogue tell yu of his plans?”

 
          
“Nothin’
definite, but I gathered that he aimed to hold up the herd, get what coin he
could outa Eden, bust up the drive later on, an’ collar the cows. It’s
a-plenty.”

 
          
“Shore
is,” Sudden said soberly, and then his eyes twinkled. “I’m takin’ it yu still
don’t propose to help him in them projects?”

 
          
“Yo’re
damn right,” the boy returned hotly, “an’ the sooner he knows it the better.”

 
          
“That’s
somethin’ we’ll let him find out,” Sudden decided. “Our hand’ll be hard enough
to play without showin’ it.”

 
          
Cheerfulness
was in evidence at supper that evening; the easy going and the improving health
of the wounded man had put everyone in a good humour. The men chaffed one
another, told tall stories, and kept Peg-leg busy.

 
          
Early
on the following morning the camp had visitors, six mounted men, well-armed,
and range-riders by their rig. One, who appeared to be the leader, signed to
the others to halt, and rode forward. Peg-leg was busy loading his vehicle for
the day’s march. Carol, who had just mounted her pony to join the herd, halted
at a word from Sudden, the only other man in camp.

 
          
“Tell
Jeff to fetch in some o’ the boys,” he told her. “I
ain’t
likin’
the look o’ these hombres.”

 
          
The
girl nodded and rode away. Sudden waited, his fingers concerned with a
cigarette, but his eyes taking in the newcomer.
A dark,
evil-faced fellow this, with lank black hair and a straggly, ill-kept beard
which only accentuated a cruel mouth.
His narrowed eyes were arrogant,
provocative.

 
          
“Mornin’,”
Sudden said laconically.

 
          
Dale
went for his gun. He got it clear of the holster, but before he could press the
trigger there
came
a flash and a roar from Sudden’s
side. Dale dropped his weapon and clutched a ripped forearm.

 
          
Thrusting
his smoking gun into its sheath Sudden stepped forward, and before the ice-cold
fury in his face the other man fell back. For the lust to take his life was
there and Dale knew that only by a miracle had he escaped the fate for which he
had asked. Sudden knew this too. For a few terrible seconds he had been
possessed by that cruel craving to slay for the sake of slaying; he had wanted
to shoot this man; to see him writhing in the agonies of death at his feet.

 
          
Then
the evil moment passed and though his face was granite-hard, the old satirical
note was in his voice.

 
          
“Yu
ain’t hurt much an’ yu got another gun. If yo’re wishful to try the left hand
…”

 
          
The
Double O man looked at him, stark hatred in every line of his face. He was
nearly mad with pain and humiliation, and for an instant, it seemed he might
take up this second challenge. The cowboy had an idea.

 
          
“I’m
advisin’ yu not to,” he said quietly. “Further south, they call mè Sudden.’”

 
          
The
fellow’s eyes widened and something very like fear took the place of the
ferocity in them. He picked up his pistol, and grabbing the horn of his saddle
with his left hand, hauled himself up.

 
          
“We’ll
be meetin’ again an’ mebbe I’ll be lucky,” he growled. “Yu’ve been lucky this
time,”

 
          
Sudden
replied. “Keep on thinkin’ that. Now, roll yore tail, an’ take that bunch o’
trail-robbers with yu.”

 
          
Watching
them ride away, he became aware of Jeff at his elbow asking what it was all
about. The foreman’s face when he heard the particulars was a picture of
puzzlement.

 
          
“Mebbe
we have got some o’ their cows,” he suggested. “Shucks, then we can turn over
what they fetch,” Sudden argued.
“Any o’ yu boys seen the
Double O brand?”

 
          
Not
one of them had. “Me
neither,
an’ I’ve been lookin’
pretty constant for strays,”

 
          
Sudden
went on. “I’d risk a little that there ain’t such an iron hereabouts—his hoss
warn’t wearin’ it. No, sir, it was a plain hold-up.”

 
          
“If
they’d combed the herd an’ hadn’t found any …” the foreman speculated. “Why
should they want to hang up our drive?”

      
 
“I ain’t a wizard, Jeff,” Sudden told him.

 
          
“I’m
not so shore, seein’ the way yu got that gun goin’,” was the smiling reply.

 
          
The
shrill voice of Aunt Judy came from the wagon. “Hi, Jeff, yo’re wanted.”

 
          
They
found the invalid anxious and irritable. “What’s the shootin’?” he barked.

 
          
Sudden
explained, and Sam Eden’s frown deepened. “Yu done right, Jim,” he commended.
He was silent for a while, thinking deeply. “I was warned o’ this,” he went on.

 
          
“There’ll
be other damn thieves further along the trail, waitin’ to try the same game.
We’ve got precious little coin, an’ I won’t hand over a cow, so that means
fightin’ our way through.”