Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 04 - Sudden Outlawed(1934) (14 page)

 
          
His
fierce eyes carried a question and the little foreman answered it without
hesitation:

 
          
“We’re
all willin’ to do that, Sam, but there ain’t too many of us to handle the herd
as it is. What yu think, Jim?”

 
          
“Well,
these hold-up gents will be watchin’ the used trail,” the cowboy pointed out.

 
          
“S’pose
we
was
to bear away to the west for a spell an’ then
strike north again, nosin’ out a road for ourselves; wouldn’t that
razzle-dazzle ‘em?”

 
          
“By
the Devil’s teeth, he’s hit it, Jeff,” the cattleman swore. “It’ll mean a
longer an’ harder drive, but that’ll be better than losin’ men scrappin’, an’
it’s
possible Chisholm didn’t pick the best path after all.
Now, go an’ get them steers started. Jim, I’m obliged to yu.”

 
          
Notwithstanding
his employer’s approval, Sudden did not feel too comfortable. The step he had
suggested was dangerous and might well plunge the expedition into all kinds of
difficulty.

 
          
On
the other hand, there was the chance that it would dislocate Rogue’s designs on
the drive, and this had been his main reason. That Dale was one of the outlaw’s
men he felt sure, and he was relieved by the thought that he had now declared
himself.

 
          
THE
new plan was not to be put into operation immediately, and dusk found them
camped again on the trail they had been following. Straight across the dreary,
brown expanse it ran.
a
road some hundreds of yards in
width, carved out of the plain by the sharp hooves of hordes of cattle.
Throughout the day no tree broke the monotony of the sky-line.

 
          
They
had another visitor that evening. The herd had been bedded down, four men left
in charge, and the others were grouped around the fire awaiting Peg-leg’s
intimation that supper was ready, when a figure materialized out of the gloom
and came towards them, right hand raised, palm foremost.

 
          
“Evenin’,
folks,” greeted a high, reedy voice. “Saw yer fire an’ it made me feel kind o’
lonesome.”

 
          
“Step
right up, friend,” the foreman called out.

 
          
The
man came on, moving with the easy, tireless stride of a redskin. The firelight
showed him to be
an oldish fellow, thin but wiry, with long
grey hair and beard and bright eyes
which seemed never to be still. His
tattered doeskin garments, raccoon-skin cap, and moccasins proclaimed that he
was a trapper.

 
          
“Sit
an’ eat,” the foreman invited.

 
          
“Thankee,”
the stranger replied. “But I pay my footin’.”

 
          
He
lifted the long gun from his shoulder and proffered the carcass of a small deer
slung upon it. Jeff protested, but the visitor would not listen.

 
          
“Sho,
I’m tired o’ totin’ it,” he said. “Mebbe a change for yu fellas, but a hunk o’
good beef to me is wuth all the game that ever ran or flew.”

 
          
“I’m
obliged,” the cowman said. “We’ve got
a
invalid who
won’t subscribe to them sentiments.”

 
          
“Sick
folk is finicky,” the other agreed.

 
          
He
dumped his pack—the crackling of which suggested dried skins—on the ground,
placed his gun upon it, and sat down. When the food arrived, he ate so
wolfishly that even in a land of large appetites he knew it must be remarked.

 
          
“Yu
gotta excuse me, friends,” he said, “but yu have one damn fine cook, an’ I’ve
bin livin’ on straight meat an’ water for most a week; run right outa meal,
salt, an’ coffee.”

 
          
“I
guess we can fix yu up,” the foreman said.
“Goin’ fur?”

 
          
“Makin’
for the nearest settlement to trade my pelts for supplies,” the stranger
explained.

 
          
He
sighed contentedly as he finished his fifth mug of coffee. “That’s the best
feed I’ve put under my belt for many a day.” He produced a battered pipe and
regarded it ruefully. “I went shy o’ smokin’ too.”

 
          
Several
hands shot out, and when he had filled, lighted, and taken a long draw, he
smiled whimsically at the company. “I figure yu boys’ll be wondering’ over me.”

 
          
They
were, but not one of them would have admitted it. He nodded understandingly and
went on—as he put it—to explain himself. His name, it appeared, was
Tyson,
and his story a common one enough in those days. Just
a tale of a ravaged cabin, a murdered wife and children, and another blood-debt
to the shrieking painted devils
who
had wrecked his
llfe. He told it quite simply in his high-pitched voice, without passion, but
in his eyes
smouldered
a hatred which only death would
quench.

 
          
“Since
then I’ve bin a sort o’ missionary,” he concluded grimly. “
yes
,
sirs, me an’ `Betsy’

 
          
“—he
patted the stock of the rifle at his back—“has converted quite a few
war-whoops.”

 
          
The
cowboys smiled at this. They too held the cynical view that the only “good”
Indian was a dead one.
Therefore the knowledge that their
guest was a “still-hunter”—one who tracked down and slew the redskin on
foot—aroused no feeling of repulsion.
The foreman questioned him
regarding the country for which they were heading, and the chances of getting
the herd through.

 
          
“Middlin’
slim,” he said bluntly. “Yu’ll have a man-size job to make it. Steers is
bringin’ real money at the rail-head, an’ it’s knowed that herds is comin’ up
from Texas. The Nations is lousy with bad men, hide-hunters, rustlers, outlaws
of every sort, an’ they ain’t likely to overlook a bet o’ that kind. Then
there’s
the Kiowas an’ Comanches from the headwaters o’ the
Red River; they’re watchin’ the trail mighty close.”

 
          
“S’pose
we turned west for a piece an’ then cut our own road north?” Sudden queried.

 
          
Tyson
grinned. “She ain’t a bad idea—might diddle ‘em,” he admitted. “But yu gotta
mind yu don’t hit the Staked Plain —no water an’ as hot as Hell’s gridiron—an’
if yore cows git tangled up with a herd o’ buff’ler yu can wish ‘em good-bye. Allasame,
I’d say
it’s
yore best bet.”

 
          
Soon
after midnight,
Sudden
, having done his turn of
night-herding, returned to camp and sought his blankets. He had not fallen
asleep when he heard the low, musical but melancholy hoot of a dwarf-owl. Since
there were no trees or bushes in the vicinity, the presence of the bird was
sufficiently remarkable to call for investigation. Slipping from beneath his
covering he crawled cautiously in the direction from which the sound had seemed
to come. At the side of a small hummock he stood up, drew his gun, coughed
slightly, and instantly moved.

 
          
“That yu, Sandy?”

 
          
“No,
it’s Green.”

 
          
A
shadow detached itself from the side of the hummock.

 
          
“‘Lo,
Jim, I was
wantin’
a word with one o’ yu,” Rogue said,
and then, abruptly, “Why for did yu’ shoot up my man, Dale?”

 
          
“How
in hell was Ito
know
yu owned the Double O brand?”
Sudden retorted.

 
          
“I
don’t,” the outlaw chuckled, “but yu mighta guessed how it was. Bad luck he had
to bump into yu.”

 
          
“I’d
say he was plumb fortunate,” Sudden retorted. “Next time he starts to pull a
gun on me he won’t get off with just a busted arm.”

 
          
“It
looks like yu mean to double-cross me, Jim,” Rogue said harshly.

 
          
“Double-cross
nothin’,” was the reply. “I never joined yu, an’ I don’t owe yu anythin’ but a
bad name an’ a prospect o’ swingin’ for a crime yu committed.”

 
          
The
savage intensity of his tone seemed to impress the other and when he spoke
again the rasp had gone from his voice:

 
          
“That’s
so. I got yu in bad, but short o’ givin’ myself up, I did what I could to get
yu clear.

 
          
I
liked yu, Jim, an’ when yu consented to join the S E I reckoned it meant …”

 
          
“That
I was ready to be what yu had made me—an outlaw,” Sudden finished bitterly.

 
          
“Well,
it mighta been—I was undecided—but when it came to shootin’ old men from cover
…”

 
          
“I
had nothin’ to do with that, Jim.”

 
          
“Yu
were around when it happened.”

 
          
“I’d
gone. I knew afterwards, but it was no part of my plan.”

 
          
“Then
who did it?”

 
          
“I
don’t know who fired the shot, but Navajo fixed it. I had trouble with him over
that—an’ other things. He’s gettin’ uppity.”

 
          
The
cowboy was silent, considering. Somehow he believed Rogue was telling him the
truth. Ruthless ruffian he undoubtedly was, yet he possessed a streak of
something—bravado, it might be—which made him scorn a lie as the resort of a
coward. He had been frank over the killing of Judson, when he need not have
been. The husky voice broke in on his thoughts:

 
          
“Must
be gettin’ tired holdin’ that gun, Jim; there ain’t no manner o’ need.”

 
          
Shame
swept over Sudden as he slipped the revolver back into its holster. “Sorry,
Rogue,” he said. “I warn’t noticin’.”

 
          
“Shucks,”
the outlaw said, and there was
a weariness
in his
tone. “I don’t blame yu for playin’ safe, boy. I’m takin’ it I can’t count on
yu an’ Sandy?”

 
          
“That’s
correct,” Sudden told him.
“We ain’t neither of us bitin’ the
hand that feeds us.”

 
          
An
impulse stirred him. “Why don’t yu cut away from that gang, Rogue?
yo’re
too good a man…”

 
          
The
outlaw laughed. “Sorry for me, Jim?” he gibed. “Well, yu needn’t to be. I went
wrong with my eyes open because the world treated me mean an’”

 
          
“It’s
done that to me, but I’m goin’ to forget it,” Sudden cut in.

 
          
He
could not see the pitying smile on the older man’s face. “
yu
never will, boy; the faculty o’ forgettin’ what yu don’t want to remember is
one o’ God’s greatest gifts an’ few has it,”

 
          
Rogue
said bitterly, and then his voice grew harsh again. “I’m gettin’ mushy. Bite on
this, boy: I’ve passed my word to bust Eden’s drive an’ I’m goin’ to do it.”

 
          
“An’
I’ll fight yu till hell freezes,” Sudden smiled, and shoved out a fist. “No
hard feelin’s, Rogue, but that don’t go for yore followin’.
Sabe?”

 
          
The
bandit gripped the hand heartily. So this strange compact between men who were
to war, one against the other, was sealed. The intruder melted into the
shadowed plain and Sudden crept back to the camp, his mind full of the man he
had just left. For the interview had surprised him. He had gone to it expecting
reproaches, threats, even attempted violence, and found none of them. He had
given his promise to his employer and would do his best to fulfil it. As to
whom
this might be, Sudden could make no guess Sam Eden’s
bluff, outspoken nature and quick temper would earn him enemies enough.