Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 10 - Sudden Plays a Hand(1950) (14 page)

 
          
“Don’t
be insolent, my man,’ Cullin frowned.

 
          
“I
ain’t yore man, an’ glad of it,’ the foreman retorted “
What
you wantin’?’

 
          
“To see Drait.’

 
          
“Well,
you can come in, Cullin—alone.’

 
          
The
rancher’s face reddened. “It’s all or none,’ he snapped. “None it is,’ was the
indifferent reply.

 
          
The
Big C man swore impatiently and turned to his followers. “Wait for me,’ he
said, and the gate having opened rode through.

 
          
“Nick’s
up at the house,’ the foreman said. “You know the way—I reckon.’

 
          
The
jeer in the last two words deepened the cattleman’s scowl, but he did not
reply.

 
          
A
young woman, seated in a rocking-chair on the veranda, looked up from the hook
she was reading as he drew rein. She saw a man staring at her, apparently dumb
with amazement. And so it was. Cullin knew she must be the girl he had heard
about, but her unexpected charm made it hard to believe. She was a revelation,
and for a moment or two he could but gaze avidly. Only when he saw a smile,
trembling on her lips, and realised that he was acting foolishly, did he snatch
off his hat, and find words.

 
          
“I
take it yo’re Mister Drait’s—friend, ma’am,’ he said. “I wanted to see him.’

 
          
“He
is at the bunkhouse,’ she replied. “Won’t you sit down and wait?’

 
          
Eagerly
enough, the caller accepted the invitation, taking the chair to which she
pointed. Usually self-possessed in any company, he was astonished to find his
brain fumbling for something to say.

 
          
“I
reckon you find time hangs some on yore hands here, ma’am,’ he managed at last.

 
          
She
smiled, showing even, white teeth. “Not for a moment; the valley is charming, I
have books, and with eight hungry men to provide for there is plenty to do. You
wouldn’t believe how they eat.’

 
          
“I
would,
seein’
I have to foot the bill for near twice
that number,’ he replied, and with a glance at her slim hands, “but shorely you
don’t have all of it yourself.’

 
          
“No,
Lindy—our cook—does most,’ she admitted. “I just potter about, trying to help.’

 
          
His murmur of “Lucky Lindy’ brought a dimple into evidence, and
then she said, rather hurriedly. “
Here is Mister Drait.’ The nester’s
brows came together when he recognised his visitor. “What are you doin’ here,
Cullin?’ he asked.

 
          
With
a man to deal with, the owner of the Big C recovered his poise. Passin’ my time
very pleasantly,’ he replied, with a smile at the girl.
“I
wanta talk with you.’

 
          
“Come
inside,’ Nick said brusquely, and led the way to the parlour. When they were
seated, he added, “
Well
?’

 
          
“See
you’ve walled up the entrance.’

 
          
“Anythin’ against a man fencin’ his own properny?’

 
          
“S’pose
not, but it ain’t a neighbourly act.’

 
          
“I
can show you a couple o’ mounds due to acts
that warn’t
neighbourly neither,
’ Nick reminded.

 
          
This
was a bad beginning, and Cullin did not reply at once. He had come there to
deliver an ultimatum—the nester must take what the cattlemen chose to offer, or
be driven out by force. But that slender figure on the veranda, with its crown
of curls which the sunlight turned to reddish gold, had changed all that. Why,
he did not yet comprehend, only that so it was.

 
          
“Whan’s
done is done,’ he said heavily. “Mistakes happen. No use in lookin’ back—it’s
the present an’ future need takin’ care of. You expect to raise cantle here?’
And when Drait nodded.
“You ain’t got grazin’ for more’n
five or six score.’

 
          
“Plenty
feed outside the valley.’

 
          
“An’
plenty usin’
it, north, south, an’ west, all of us
here before you. Where’s yore right to come crowdin’?’

 
          
“It’s
free range—not one o’ you
own
a foot of it, an’ if you
trebled yore herds there’d be grass enough. I’m a cattleman, an’ know what I’m
talkin’ about. Further, you can leave Bardoe out—
he
on’y raises cows when the owners ain’t on the watch.’

 
          
“Can
you prove that?’

 
          
“I
don’t have to; if you ain’t wise to it a’ready, you soon will be.’

 
          
Cullin
laughed unpleasantly. “I hear you’ve a hundred head in the valley now,’ he
said. “
Rustled from the S P.’

 
          
“The
first half is correct, the second a lie,’ Drait returned curtly. “I threw the
man who told you out on his ear this mornin’. You didn’t get value for yore
fifty, Cullin.’

 
          
The
blow was a shrewd one, and the Big C owner felt a gust of passion surging
within him. But a violent quarrel would not further the vague scheme already
milling in his tortuous mind; cunning was the card for the moment.

 
          
“Mebbe
I’ve gone the wrong way to work ‘bout you, Drait,’ he said. “We should have had
this pow-wow when you first came. Still, better late than never, they say, an’
I guess we can fix somethin’ up.’ He was silent for a space, apparently deep in
thought, and when he looked up again it was with the air of one who has come to
a momentous decision. “What I’m goin’ to tell you is known on’y to myself an’
one other; you must keep it tight behind yore teeth.’

 
          
“I
won’t chatter, but please yoreself,’ the nester replied indifferently.

 
          
“The
S P will shortly be in the market,’ Cullin confided. “It’s a fair range, but
has been let go to seed. I intend to buy it, an’ I’ll need a capable man to
take charge—the Big C is a full-time job for me—an’ I wouldn’t trust Gilman.
What about
you takin’
it on? Shadow Valley’d be a
useful link between the ranches.’

 
          
Drait
was in no hurry to reply; he was trying to plumb the deeps of this amazing and
utterly unlooked-for proposition, in which he felt sure there was a catch. “I’ll
think it over,’ he said at last. “
Time enough to decide when
you get the S P.’

 
          
Cullin
professed
himself
satisfied; he had postponed an
immediate settlement of his difference with the nester, and provided an excuse
for visiting the valley. Mary was still on the veranda when they came out, and
the half smile she gave him as he bowed no her, mounted, and rode off,
quickened his pulses. He would have liked to delay departure but caution
dictated otherwise.

 
          
“An’
there goes the slimiest reptile in the State,’ was Drait’s valedictory
utterance.

 
          
“At
least he knew how to behave,’ the girl said.

 
          
“Oh,
he can ape the gentleman for his own purpose,’ Nick sneered. “It may interest
you to know that he’s a confirmed hater o’ yore sex.’

 
          
“It
does not interest me at all,’ she replied coldly.

 
          
An
hour later, the “reptile’ was standing in his own parlour, disgustedly
surveying the unswept floor, dusty, littered furniture, and torn curtains, so
different from the one he had left, spotlessly clean, neatly arranged, and
brightened with freshly-picked flowers. Angrily he summoned his Mexican cook
and barked orders which promised the man a busy day for the morrow.

 
          
AFTER
being absent for three days, Sudden and Yorky returned. Drait was clearly
relieved to see them; he had a great liking for both, and unbounded faith in
the judgment of the elder of the pair.

 
          
“Come
up to the house tonight, Jim,’ he invited. “
I’m needin’
yore advice.’

 
          
Mary
had retired to her own room when the puncher arrived, and the two men had the
parlour to themselves.

 
          
“So
yu’ve lost Lamond?’ Sudden opened. He had heard as much in the bunkhouse.

 
          
“Yeah,
but I wouldn’t call it a loss,’ Nick corrected. “You had him sized up about
right. How do you do it, Jim?’

 
          
“Oh,
I dunno,’ Sudden smiled. “I was raised among hosses an’ used to study ‘em,
lookin’ for danger-signals a wrong-minded one allus gives sooner or later. I
s’pose I got into the habit o’ treatin’ humans the same; I don’t claim it’ll
work every time.’

 
          
“It
did this,’ the nester said. “I won’t trouble you to try it on Cullin—it ain’t
necessary, but mebbe you can give a guess at the game he’s a playin’. He came
here,
an’ instead o’ bluster an’ threats offered me a share
in a deal he has in view. Can’t tell you what it is, I promised to stay mum;
on’y Cullin an’ one other knows of it.’

 
          
Sudden
grinned. “It wouldn’t be the buyin’ o’ the S P, by any chance?’

 
          
Nick
straightened in his chair. “Hell’s bells!’ he cried. “Either
yo’re
that one other, or a wizard.’

 
          
“
I ain’t neither,’
the puncher denied. “Take a squint at
this.’

 
          
He
passed over Cullin’s letter to the lawyer, the reading of which did not lessen
Nick’s astonishment. “How in blazes did you come by it?’ he wanted to know.

 
          
“Before
I tell yu that, I gotta own up that I’ve been keepin’ somethin’ back,’ Sudden
replied. “I let on that me an’ Yorky were just sorta sight-seem’. That’s true
in his case, but I was in these parts for a purpose, an’ I teamed up with yu
because it suited my plans. Also I guess I kind o’ took to you,’ he finished
awkwardly.

 
          
“Didn’t
find too many o’ them danger-signals, huh?’ Nick asked slyly.

 
          
Sudden
laughed. “I’m here, ain’t I?’

 
          
“Yeah,
an’ I’m damn glad. The rest don’t matter nohow; yore business is no concern o’
mine.’

 
          
“Don’t
be too shore; my job was to find the owner o’ the S P.’ “Well, it ain’t likely
to be me,’ the nester chuckled, and then, was to find him, you said. Does that
mean…?’

 
          
“Here’s
the story,’ the puncher replied, and told of the visit to Rideout; the
interview with the lawyer, and subsequent proceedings. “It was pretty clear
that Seale didn’t want to find the heir, an’ the letter from Cullin made it a
shore thing; he was after that thousand bucks, an’ with the price o’ the ranch
an’ cattle left in his hands, it must ‘a’ looked like a dream come true. Thanks
to Yorky, he’ll have to think some more—an’ think hard.’

 
          
“I
figured that boy had brains,’ the nester said.

 
          
Sudden
smiled agreement. “Well, we picked up the trail where Seale dropped it, at
Deepridge. Mary Pavitt an’ her husband had married, lived, an’ died there. The
child, a girl, was sent to a sort o’ home for orphans at Redstone, with what
money there was to pay for her keep an’ education. When she was about sixteen,
she went as a mother’s help to a small farm in the district. Nearly four years
later, these folk moved
East
, an’ she got another job
at Shanton. Know it?’