Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 04 - Sudden Outlawed(1934) (5 page)

 
          
“Split
Rock,” the traveller decided. “Well, of hoss, this is where we say good-bye to
a law-abidin’ life.”

 
          
With
a mirthless, sardonic smile he sent his mount loping to the left, following the
faint trail which plunged into the broken country, and came at length to the
narrow mouth of a gorge, the rocky walls of which almost met. Halfway up, on a
ledge about thirty yards distant, the rider’s questing eye caught a flash of
steel.

 
          
“Stick
‘em up, stranger; I got yu covered,” boomed a voice, and a man with a levelled
rifle rose into view.

 
          
Jim
guessed this must be one of the bandits’ sentinels. He had already decided on
his own line of action, and though he halted, he did not obey the command to
put up his hands. Instead he laughed satirically.

 
          
“I’ve
had yu fixed for the last two minutes,” he said. “
yu
oughta get that gun-barrel dulled some—I saw it away back. Got any ideas?”

 
          
“On’y
this,” the man replied, tapping his rifle.

 
          
Jim
laughed unpleasantly. “Shucks, yu’d miss an’ I wouldn’t. Well, if it’ll relieve
yore mind any, I’m lookin’ for a fella called Rogue.”

 
          
“I
take it yo’re Sudden then.”

 
          
“An’
yu might be right at that,” Jim smiled. “What about it?”

 
          
“I’ve
had word to pass yu along,” the guard admitted, “but yu’ll have to leave yore
hardware with me—I’ll fetch ‘em in later.”

 
          
“Like
hell yu will,” the visitor retorted. “No, sir,
me
an’
the li’l hoss have had a long ride, but we’re plenty strong enough to tote my
guns, yu betcha.”

 
          
“It’s
the rule,” the bandit grumbled.

 
          
“There’s
allus an exception—I’m it,” Jim told him lightly, and then, dropping his
bantering tone. “Cut the cackle; either I go on or back, an’ I don’t give a
damn which it is.”

 
          
Sullenly
the fellow motioned him on. “Go ahead,” he said. “See yu later—mebbe.”

 
          
Jim
sensed the sinister implication and laughed. “Yu will, if nothin’
don’t
happen to yu meantime.”

 
          
The
man appeared to have an afterthought. “Anybody follerin’ yu?” he asked.

 
          
“Yo’re
a reg’lar question mark, ain’t yu?” was the sarcastic reply. “Did I seem to be
hurryin’?”

 
          
Half
a mile farther on he rounded a bend and saw that the perpendicular sides of the
gorge closed in; apparently there was no outlet. He had pulled up, and was
studying the grey, weather-stained walls when a man stepped abruptly from
behind a big boulder and strolled nonchalantly towards him. He was carrying a
rifle, and though he did not raise the weapon, his finger was on the trigger.

 
          
He
was young, about his own age, Jim figured—though he had never known precisely
what that was; his hair and moustache
were
very red,
his blue eyes very pale, and the grin on his good-looking face very impudent.
In a land where little attention was paid to such matters, the cleanliness and
neatness of his attire drew the eye. He was obviously surprised to find the
visitor armed.

 
          
“Meet
a gent called Ropey back there?” he asked bluntly, pointing to the entrance of
the gorge.

 
          
“I
guess, but he didn’t mention his name,” Jim replied.

 
          
“An’
he let yu pass with that ars’nal?” the young man went on “Yu musta showed him a
good reason.”

 
          
“I’m
showin’ yu the same,” was the grim reply.

 
          
The
youth looked at the levelled Colt which, having somehow got into its owner’s
hand, was now covering him, and laughed with affected dismay.

 
          
“Put
her back in her li’l bed,” he said. “I ain’t arguin’ with yu
none
whatever. Do we have to plant Ropey?”

 
          
“I
reckon it would be premature—he was a healthy corpse when I left him,” the
visitor replied gravely, but there was a twinkle in his eyes, and the menacing
gun had vanished.

 
          
“Glad
yu didn’t hurt Ropey, I hate diggin’,” redhead remarked. “I figure yo’re here
to see our revered chief an’ that yore name is mebbe—Sudden?”

 
          
“I’ve
been called that,” Jim admitted.

 
          
“Good
enough,” the other said, and pointed to the end of the gorge. “There’s an
opening under the cliff, an’ on the other side yu’ll see the select but not
pop’lar hamlet o’ Rogueville, consistin’ of a few undesirable villas tenanted
by still more undesirable villains, of whom I am one. The man yu wanta see
ain’t the biggest rogue but he has the name an’ the say-so. Savvy?”

 
          
Having
delivered this satirical address, he leaned his rifle against a rock and began
to fashion a cigarette.

 
          
“Ain’t
s’posed to smoke on this job but I never could obey orders, which explains me,”
he grinned. “See yu again, I hope.

 
          
The
visitor expressed the same desire and went on his way. He found the
opening—cleverly concealed by an outflung buttress of rock—and rode through.
Before him lay a beautiful little oval-shaped basin, the grass-covered floor of
which sloped up on every side to an enclosing rampart of rock. In the centre, a
tiny circular lake, fringed with willows, gleamed amid the surrounding green
like a huge silver coin. Cattle and horses were grazing near and on the far
side of the valley were several log shacks.

 
          
By
the time he reached them some half-dozen men had appeared; there had been no
one in sight when he entered the valley. A brief glance told the visitor that
redhead had probably described them correctly.

 
          
“An’
what
th
’ hell might yu be wantin’?” asked one, a
coarse-faced, broken-nosed fellow.

 
          
“Civility
first, from yu,” Jim snapped. “An’ then—to see yore boss.”

 
          
The
reply produced a scowl and a sneer. “We don’t go much on bosses here. If yu
want Rogue, he’s there.”

 
          
Following
the direction of the jerked thumb, Jim walked his horse to a shack some twenty
yards away, in the doorway of which a man was standing watching the proceedings
without apparent interest. The bandit leader did not look formidable. Over
forty, shortish but heavily built, with greying hair and beard, he might have
passed for a prosperous rancher. He greeted his guest with a grin.

 
          
“Light
an’ rest yore saddle,” he said, and the low, husky voice seemed familiar.

 
          
Jim
got down and trailed the reins. “Best tell yore men to leave this hoss alone—he
don’t
like strangers,” he warned.

 
          
“They
won’t interfere with him,” Rogue replied. His gaze dwelt on the animal. “Shore
is a beauty, an’ yu trained him right. Like a woman, a hoss any man can handle
ain’t
no
good.”

 
          
They
entered the shack. It consisted of one room only, furnished with a pallet-bed
on which blankets were spread, a rough, home-made table, and chairs with
rawhide seats. Pegs driven into the log walls supported guns, bridles, ropes
and other paraphernalia of the range.

 
          
Rogue
pointed to a chair and produced a bottle and glasses.

 
          
“Well,
yu got here-Sudden,” he said.

 
          
This
time there could be no mistake. “So it was yu?” Jim said, and smiled. “I guess
that sheriff man was peeved.”

 
          
“Peeved?”
repeated the other. “He was madder’n a teased rattler an’ twice as ‘poisonous.

 
          
He’d
‘a’ stretched yu.”

 
          
“So
Judson—died?”

 
          
“Yeah,
durin’ the night; never opened an eye again.” There was silence for a few
moments and then Jim said, “I’m still wonderin’ why yu—interfered?”

 
          
Rogue
laughed. “I don’t like sheriffs nohow an’ yu put up a pretty fight,” he explained.

 
          
“‘Sides,
yu done me a service.”

 
          
“I’m
still in the dark,” the visitor persisted.

 
          
The
outlaw hesitated for a space, his hard grey eyes studying the boy before him;
but he learned nothing.

 
          
“I’m
playin’ straight with yu, Sudden,” he said, and the husky voice had a harsh
note in it.

 
          
“If
yu hadn’t been there they’d have picked on me an’ I had Judson’s money-belt
round my middle.”

 
          
Jim
sat up. “
yu
did it?” he cried, jolted out of his
impassivity.

 
          
“Yeah,
but I didn’t wanta kill the fool,” Rogue said. “I got the drop on him an’ I’m
steppin’

 
          
in
to take his gun when he jumps his hoss at me. I try to
wing him but he’s movin’ yu see, an’.”

 
          
He
shrugged his shoulders. There was no regret in his voice; rather there was
blame for a murdered man who had not played the game properly, and paid the
penalty. “I was a plain fool to come into town but I figured him finished. I
had to have the coin; things have been quiet lately an’ the
boys
was
gettin’ restive.”

 
          
The
latter remark sounded like an excuse, but Jim knew it was not so intended;
Rogue was simply giving him all the facts. To Jim, the important point was that
this man who had coolly confessed to the crime had not been content to let
another suffer for it, and he, Jim, owed his life to him; he could not condemn,
and in his present rebellious attitude to his own kind, had no wish to.

 
          
“What
made yu think I’d come here?” he asked.

 
          
“I
saw
them
bills an’ knew Mallick would close the towns
to yu,” Rogue explained.

 
          
“Reckoned
yu’d make for San Antonio an’ sent one o’ my men to watch for yu. Didn’t he
find yu?”

 
          
“Shore,
but it wasn’t him sent me,” Jim said, and told of the attempted arrest and
chase.

 
          
If
the outlaw smiled it was behind his beard; he guessed the part his envoy had
played.

 
          
His
comment contained more than a touch of admiration:

 
          
“Three
fellas, with their guns out, an’ then yu busted up the posse! Yu ain’t losin’
any time justifyin’ yore label. Sudden.”

 
          
“My
name’s Jim—I’d liefer yu called me that.”

 
          
“Mine’s
Roger, but everybody calls me Rogue an’ I dunno as I care. Allasame, Jim goes
with me. Now, yu better stick around awhile, yo’re safe here. Later on, yu can
decide ‘bout stayin’; I’m hopin’ yu will; I want a fella I can trust.”

 
          
“I’m
obliged to yu,” the visitor said.

 
          
“Shucks,
its shore up to me to watch out for yu,” Rogue rejoined. “Yu can double up with
Sandy, an’ we all feed together in the big cabin. Now, there’s another thing:
yore face wouldn’t look
no
worse without hair on it.”