Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 10 - Sudden Plays a Hand(1950) (22 page)

 
          
“Well,
Jim then,’ she smiled, “sized the creature up correctly. Yorky was—fine.’

 
          
Drait’s
harsh features softened. “You two fellas are pilin’ a debt I can never pay,’ he
said gruffly.

 
          
“Shucks!’
Sudden protested, and the pair of them had the air of criminals caught in the
act.

 
          
Nick, who knew exactly how they felt, switched to another subject.
“Have yore
range
combed an’ cattle gathered,’ he
advised. “Then brand the unmarked beasts an’ count ‘em. I guess Gilman was more
than careless thataway.’

 
          
The
talk drifted. Mary told them she was taking Lindy to town in the morning to buy
things for the house, and her sparkling eyes showed that she was looking
forward to the essentially feminine delight of shopping. Her companions, all of
whom had seen big cities, knew that she was due for a disappointment.

 
          
“Don’t
expect too much,’ the nester warned. “Midway is a one-hoss, an’ mighty near a
one-store town, ‘cept for liquor.’ “Which is not on my list,’ she laughed, and
then, “
Which
is the best store?’

 
          
“There
ain’t any best, but Pilch will give you a square deal,’ Nick replied. “He’s one
o’ my few friends in that dump.’

 
          
She
thanked him with a smile, and after that he was content to leave the
conversation to the others, though his gaze was never far from her. In truth,
he was trying to convince himself that this really was the girl he had wed. The
slimness was still there, but the curves of her figure were fuller, more
alluring; the delicately-tanned cheeks had a bloom, and her voice was low,
lacking the bitter note he had come to expect. She had a disturbing beauty, new
to him.

 
          
As
the visitors strolled back to the bunkhouse, Sudden heard the full story of the
happenings at the S P. “Yu got off better’n yu’d a right to,’ was his comment. “Didn’t
yu know a Greaser allus carries a sticker back of his neck or under an armpit?’

 
          
“I
was watchin’ his gun—shore oughta knowed when he folded his wings,’ the boy
said ruefully.

 
          
“Yo’re
a quarrelsome young devil,’ Sudden admonished. “Keep a hold o’ yourself
tomorrow; the third time can be unlucky.’

 
          
Back
in the ranch-house the nester was talking to
himself
as he undressed; “Pore kid. She’s never had money to spend on the things women
prize. Mebbe, someday—But hell, she hates me anyway.’ Nevertheless, as he flung
himself on the bed, his last

 
          
waking
thought was that one word, “Someday,’ and then, being
a healthy animal, he dropped into a slumber which was dreamless.

 
          
**

 
          
Yorky
swung his team with a flourish as he pulled up in front of the ranch-house,
where Mary and the Negress waited. “You Yorky, drive’m kearful now,’ Lindy
urged. “Dere’s no hurry—we sho’ got time aplenty. If I gotta meet ma Maker, I
aim to be in one piece.’

 
          
“That
goes for me too,’ Mary smiled, as he helped her into the vehicle.

 
          
“Never
had a complaint from a passenger yet,’ Yorky said boastfully.

 
          
The
black woman’s face split into a wide grin. “Must allus ‘a’ druv a hearse,’ she
said.

 
          
A
low laugh came from the veranda. “Best not argue with her, boy,’ Drait said. “She’s
a woman, bound to have the last word.’ He waved his hat as the buckboard shot away.

 
          
With
Yorky exercising unusual restraint, the journey proved uneventful.

 
          
As
they drew up outside the bank, Mary became aware of a horseman reigning in, and
a voice said, “Well, if I’m lucky.’ She looked up into the smiling face of the
Big C rancher. “I was over to the S P, on’y to learn they weren’t expectin’
you. So yo’re givin’ Sturm a try-out?’

 
          
“Yes,
and thank you for sending him,’ she replied. “He seems capable.’ It was the
description she had given Drait, she recalled.

 
          
“If
he’s not, send him packin’—don’t hesitate,’ Cullin said heartily. “I’ve found
the job, but it’s up to him to keep it.’ He made no reference to the affair
with the half-breed, but she saw him studying Yorky interestedly. Then his
glance went to the bank, and he laughed. “Easy to guess yore errand is to get
rid of money.’

 
          
“Quite
correct,’ she told him. “I’m going to find out how much I can afford, and spend
it; the list of things I must have is simply terrifying.’

 
          
“Don’t
hope for much beyond the barest necessities,’ he told her. “Midway is far from
civilisation, an’ freightin’ an expensive business. When do I see this paradise
you’ll make at the S P?’

 
          
She
turned startled eyes on him. “Oh, it won’t be ready for ever so long.’

 
          
“Then
I gotta be patient, which isn’t my habit,’ he said, in a low, meaning tone. “Well,
mustn’t delay you. Good huntin’.’ He rode on down the street, nodding to
passers-by, and the girl watched uneasily. For no definite reason she wished
they had not met.

 
          
When
Cullin arrived opposite the sheriff’s quarters he became aware of that officer
beckoning to him. He rode over, got down, and entered. “Well?’ he asked.

 
          
“A
chance to hit at that cursed nester,’ Camort said.

 
          
The
rancher’s lips curled disdainfully. “I’d ‘a’ thought you were tired o’
swallowin’ the dirt he feeds you.’

 
          
“I’ll
never git tired till he’s under the turf,’
came
the
vicious answer. “It’s like this, Greg.’

 
          
“When
did I give you leave to use my front name?’

 
          
The
sheriff swallowed hard.
“Fancied we was friends.’
“Fancy
is misleadin’. I employ you,
that’s
all. Go on.’

 
          
“There
was a ruckus at the S P yestiddy,’ Camort continued sulkily. “One o’ Drait’s
men shot up Tomini, who hadn’t reached for his shootin’-iron. He swears this
fella was fetched over no get him. We could charge the gal an’ the gunslinger
with attempted murder.’

 
          
Cullin
clenched his fists to keep his temper under control. “Listen to me, you idiot,’
he rasped. “The Greaser was befoulin’ the reputation of a lady, his boss. Taxed
with it, he threw a knife an’ got shot. The on’y mistake the lad who downed him
made was not killin’. Now, go ahead with yore fool case an’ I’ll bring five
witnesses to prove the truth.’

 
          
The
sheriff’s eyeballs bulged; active opposition was the last thing he had
expected. Disappointment and anger nerved him. “Well, if you want I should lay
off Drait, I ain’t carin’,’ he said.

 
          
The
rancher leaned forward, tight-lipped. “You can do what you please with the
nester an’ I’ll thank you, but raise one finger against Miss Darrell or the S P
an’ I’ll take the hide off you with a bull-whip; that’s a promise.’

 
          
He
stalked from the office, leaving a well-nigh paralysed man floundering in
a mental
mire. It was some time before he arrived at a
satisfactory solution: Cullin not only coveted the ranch but the woman who
possessed it. With a long-drawn whistle, the sheriff got out his makings and
tried to roll a cigarette. His shaking fingers tore the paper and spilled the
weed. Flinging them aside, he stood up.

 
          
“Better
warn the Judge,’ he concluded.

 
          
Towler
was draped over a chair, snoring raucously; as usual, he had gone to bed early
that day instead of the night before, and was not too pleased to have his
slumbers disturbed. “Oh, it’s you?’ he growled. “What’s the bad news?’

 
          
“Cullin
is mad,’ the visitor said.

 
          
“What about?’

 
          
“I
don’t mean thataway—just plain loco.’

 
          
“That
isn’t news,’ the jurist said disgustedly. “We all are—must be to stay in this
God-forgotten hole. I take it he turned down your stupid plan and forgot to
thank you.’

 
          
The
ironic reminder stirred the sheriff’s bile. “I’m gittin’ mighty tired o’ bein’
bullied by that fella,’ was his answer. “Did you say as much?’
Mildly.

 
          
“No,
but I’ve half a mind

 
          
“Don’t
boast, Camort. Well, well, only my joke, but have you considered your chance of
retaining your position—you were not elected for life—at least, we’ll hope
not.’

 
          
This
could be taken in two ways, one sinister and the other unflattering, and
neither added to the sheriff’s ease of mind. But it made him think. Perhaps the
“old soak’ wasn’t quite the fool he had imagined.

 
          
“You
have lost the support of the S P, Vasco made his attitude very plain, and
Bardoe is not pleased with the publicity you provided,’ the Judge went on. “Quarrel
with Cullin and where are you to look for honey? Is your popularity with the
townsfolk growing?’

 
          
“Bout
keepin’ step with yore own, I guess,’ the officer replied, with a flash of
insolence. It was a sore point that of late he had to pay for more of his
liquor.

 
          
“Then
it is on the down grade,’ Towler returned equably. “But my post is different,
in that it does not depend on the favour of the populace.’

 
          
“If
the Governor
knowed
what’ He stopped abruptly.

 
          
“If,’ the Judge smiled. “
A remarkable word, Camort; it suggests
so many things. If, for example, this town knew how much Cullin and Bardoe paid
you to help Gilman escape …’
The
sheriff started. “That’s
a secret, of course,’ the other finished, and then, sharply, “Enough of this.
What I am trying to get into your thick skull is that if you fall out with the
Big C you’re finished. On the other hand, with Drait out of the way, and Cullin
in the saddle at the S P, he’ll call the tune and Midway will dance. If you’ve
helped him, Camort …’ He rose and picked up his hat. “Talking is dry work. The
drinks are on you—for awaking me.’

 
          
That
evening the sheriff left Midway to the care of itself and his deputies without
informing it or them of his intention. In fact, he waited until dusk enabled
him to leave unobserved, and then set off in the direction of Rideout. After
covering something less than a couple of miles, he turned into a narrow path

 
          
 
some
text missing
here - Camort meets Gilman and Tomini

 
          
“I
weel revenge myself,’ the man said darkly.

 
          
“Well,
here’s yore chance; the chap who drilled you was sent by Drait, probably on
purpose. How’s yore wing gettin’ on?’

 
          
‘Ver’
good,’ Tomini replied. “Ze slug bre’k no bone. Een a week, I shoot.’

 
          
“Who’s
this jasper, Sturm?’ Gilman asked.

 
          
“Dunn.
Greg provided him, part of his plan.
I s’pose.’

 
          
“Huh!’
the late S P foreman grunted. “Other folk can make plans.’

 
          
“That’s
so, but his come off an’ theirs don’t,’ Camort replied pointedly. “Think it
over, boys, an’ please yoreselves.’