Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 10 - Sudden Plays a Hand(1950) (32 page)

 
          
That
individual was having troubles of his own. Incautiously poking his head out of
the rear door, he received a rap with a revolver butt which dropped him
senseless.

 
          
“Tally
one,’ Smoky chuckled. “Next please.’ No more victims offered. “What do we do
now?’

 
          
The
spiteful crack of the rifles had ceased again when Quilt answered: “If they
won’t come out, we just naturally gotta go in. I’ll give Nick the signal.’

 
          
He
sent three rapid shots skyward, and they dashed into the building, guns out and
spitting lead. The foreman’s first objective was the big door, which he
unbolted and flung wide. He caught a glimpse of his friends racing for it, and
twisted only just in time to dodge a rifle-butt which would have split his
skull.

 
          
For
the next few minutes the invaders had a hectic time, for they were outnumbered
and fighting desperate men. Even the advent of their comrades did not at once
settle the issue. Choking in the acrid reek of burnt powder and dust raised by
stamping feet, the battle continued. At such close quarters reloading was
impossible, and the combat soon resolved itself into single-handed tussles in
which rifle or pistol-butts, fists, or feet were the weapons.

 
          
In
this wild melee, Yorky was pounced upon by Bardoe, who had not forgiven the
Shadow Valley incident. The boy fought like a wildcat, striking, kicking,
biting, but he was outsized and out-weighted, and a crashing blow sent him
reeling to the floor. Sudden, who had just accounted for one opponent, turned
on the rustler.

 
          
“Try
one yore own size,’ he gritted, and drove a granite fist to the body, following
it up with another to the jaw which jolted the big man back on his heels.

 
          
Bull
grunted and cast a swift glance around; it told him that the day was lost. With
a headlong rush, and a rain of furious punches, he forced his man to give
ground, and then, twisting, leapt through a nearby window to vanish in the
undergrowth a few yards distant. Sudden swore; he had set his mind on getting
Bardoe.

 
          
So
he too used the window, but instead of following the runaway, he made for his
own horse. He conjectured that the man would head for the 8 B, and he knew
Nigger could overtake anything in the shape of horseflesh Bull might possess.
Passing down the winding trail, he re-charged his weapons, and halted in the
fringe of the pines. His reasoning proved correct; after a short wait, the
fugitive emerged well to the left, and he was mounted.

 
          
Sudden
rose into view, hoping the fellow would turn and face him, but apparently
Bardoe had but one idea—to get away, for he at once began to spur and thrash
his horse furiously. A
word,
and the big black shot
forward as though on springs, the mighty muscles moving to and fro beneath the
satin skin like the well-oiled parts of a machine. Swiftly the gap between the
two animals was closing up, and Sudden saw the man front making frantic efforts
to get more speed.

 
          
“If
he thinks he can tire Nig out, he’s due for a surprise,’ the pursuer reflected.

 
          
Then
comprehension came; Bardoe was galloping straight for the Big Quake; the
inviting green patches were already plain. “There’s a road across an’ he knows
it. Quit dawdlin’, yu imp o’ darkness.’

 
          
A
lengthened stride resulted, and when the black, scenting danger, stopped
abruptly on the brink of the morass, the fugitive was less than a dozen yards
distant. Sudden slid his drawn gun slowly back into the holster; there was no
need for it. One of two things had happened; either Bardoe, in his haste, had
mistaken the crossing-place, or the treacherous sub-structure of the bog had
shifted. Apparently he had soon learned his peril and swung his horse round to return,
but too late. The violent struggles of the terrified beast only hastened the
end; already, its head alone protruded. Standing in the stirrups, with
distended, horrified eyes, the rustler voiced an agonised appeal:

 
          
“Shoot,
damn you, an’ finish it.’

 
          
“Had
yu a hand in killin’ Olsen?’

 
          
“That
was Cullin’s work. I was there, an’ spoke agin it; he wouldn’t listen.’

 
          
“Will
yu bear witness to that, if I save yu?’

 
          
“I’ll
spill everythin’—I swear it,’ Bardoe said earnestly. “
For
Gawd’s sake, hurry.’

 
          
The
last words were almost screamed. The trapped man’s mount had disappeared, and
only by holding his arms high could they be kept clear of the churned-up,
vicious mess which, like a live thing, seemed to be reaching for them. He
strove to move his legs, close-clamped by the clinging mud, but fiends below
were tugging at them. A vile smell of rotting vegetation almost choked him. In
a spasm of frenzied fear, he repeated his promise and his oath to keep it.

 
          
With
what must have been maddening deliberation, Sudden lifted his rope from where
it hung and made his cast. The loop fell truly over the up-stretched arms to be
grabbed and pulled tight below the armpits by feverish hands. The puncher
twisted the other end round the horn of his saddle, and spoke to the horse: “Back,
boy, but slow, mighty slow, at first; we don’t wanta tear him in two.’ Inch by
inch, the man was drawn from the clammy clasp, and at length lay spent and
gasping, but safe. When Sudden removed the rope, Bardoe sat up, gazed at the
hell from which he had escaped, and shook as with an ague.

 
          
“I
couldn’t bear it,’ he muttered brokenly. “
To see it comin’ that
filthy muck fillin’ my mouth, nose, an’ eyes, suffocatin’, stranglin’, an’
me—helpless as a babe.
I’ve allus figured I could face death with the
next fella, but not thataway. S’pose I’m a coward?’

 
          
Sudden
shook his head. “It’s an ugly end.’ He rolled a smoke, passed it over, and
proffered a light. “I guess yore
makin’s are
wet.’
Bardoe took it eagerly, regarding the giver with a puzzled expression. The
tobacco soothed his frayed nerves. “Yo’re a curious cuss,’ he said. “Half an
hour back you’d ‘a’ blowed me to hellangone, an’ now….’

 
          
“I’ve
a use for yu,’ Sudden reminded. “I’ve done my part o’ the bargain.’

 
          
“You
shore have,’ Bull agreed, and drew a deep breath. “It’s fine to be alive. What
you want me to do?’

 
          
Sudden
told him, in detail, and the rustler replied. “I get you, an’ I won’t fail,
whatever comes to me,’ he said quietly. “I’ll do what I can about that,’ the
puncher promised, and stepped into his saddle. “Reckon my friends have cleaned
house by now.’

 
          
Bardoe
saw him vanish into the wood, and only then became aware of a tobacco sack,
papers, and matches lying where the rescued man must see them. His eyes
gleamed.

 
          
“There
goes a fella who could beat me every time,’ he told the world.

 
          
BARDOE’S
flight finished the battle, such of his men as were able following his example,
and disappearing into the surrounding forest. Drait at once went in search of
the prisoner. He found a locked door, rapped, and got no response. Lifting a
heel, he drove it at the fastening. With a splintering crash it gave way,
swinging drunkenly back on its hinges. Mary was standing at the far side of the
room; the fear in her eyes died out when she saw him.

 
          
“You?’
she cried.

 
          
“Were
you expectin’ someone else?’ he asked drily.

 
          
In
truth she was, having jumped to the conclusion that Cullin had come to her
rescue. “You might have been one of the brutes who brought me here,’ she
explained.

 
          
Lack
of warmth in her reception angered him. ‘No, I’m one o’ the
brutes
who has come to take you away,’ he retorted. “Better stay here till we’ve
straightened up.’

 
          
He
went out, leaving her with the knowledge that she had behaved badly; but the
picture of her cattle feeding in Shadow Valley would not be blotted out. Yet he
had fought for her freedom, risking his life—she recalled the trickle of blood
down one cheek. She must apologise. She nerved herself to again seek the
nester, and found him with Quilt in the big room, bending over a prostrate
form.

 
          
“This
is no place for you,’ he said.

 
          
“Who
is it?’ she asked, and when they told her it was Gilman, she knelt beside the
man who had robbed her. Even to inexperienced eyes, the haggard, pain-wracked
face and loose jaw showed that the end was near.

 
          
“I
wanna drink,’ he mumbled weakly, but when she called for water, a ghastly grin
trembled on his lips as he added, “I said—a drink—ma’am.’

 
          
A
half-empty bottle of whisky was on the table. Drait poured a stiff dose and
Quilt tipped it down the eager throat. The fiery spirit gave a temporary
strength. The weeping girl looked appealingly at the nester, and the dying man
understood.

 
          
“
Ain’t nothin’ to be done,’
he murmured. “Sorry—‘bout yore
cattle, ma’am. If I could make amends….’

 
          
“You
can, Jack,’ Drait said. “Tell me who murdered Eddie.’ “Cullin—strangled
him—hisself.’ His voice grew feebler. “Off’n thought o’ Eddie, an’ now—
it’s—
my turn.’

 
          
Quilt
laid the limp form gently on the floor, and placed his hat over the staring,
lifeless eyes. Drait led the girl away. “Was that true—about Cullin?’ she
whispered.

 
          
“Yeah,
a man don’t
lie at such a moment,’ he replied. “Get
some rest; it’s a long ride back.’

 
          
She
was glad to be alone. Seated in her late prison, she strove to reconstruct her
disrupted world. Cullin, her one friend—as she had believed—was a heartless,
brutal murderer. She could not doubt it. And if she had been wrong there, had
she erred in other judgments? What did it all mean? She could find no answer.
Voices broke in.

 
          
“Glad
yo’re back, Jim,’ she heard her husband say. “What about Bull?’

 
          
“He
got away.’

 
          
“So
did some o’ his men, Lanty among ‘em,’ Drait grumbled. “We’ve three to plant,
an’ Frayle has a busted arm. No, we’ve been lucky—a few grazes.’

 
          
At
the end of an hour, preparations for departure were complete, graves dug and
filled, mounts found for the lady and prisoner. The nester decided to strike
south-cast for Shadow Valley, which would cut down the distance considerably.
He and Sudden led the way, with Mary and Yorky following, and the others,
shepherding Frayle, behind. All were too tired to talk, and even Yorky lost his
loquacity.

 
          
It
was dark when at length they reached the Valley to find Lindy awaiting them.
The S P without her mistress had proved too much, and she had prevailed on
Milton to drive her over, to a greater loneliness. She received them with
voluble expressions of delight, but her chief concern seemed to be the state of
the kitchen.

 
          
“Yoh’d
sca’cely b’lieve, honey, a passel o’ men

 
          
“We’re
tuckered out an’ hungry, woman; get some grub,’ Drait said brusquely. He looked
at Mary. “You’ll stay here tonight.’

 
          
He
was gone before she could reply, and she smiled a little; that was his way. But
she wanted to thank him, and since the moment he smashed the door of her
prison, he had given her no opportunity. Was he purposely avoiding her? The
thought was curiously disturbing. Sitting in the parlour, she waited for his
return. She heard
Sudden
speaking to Lindy and called
him in.