Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 10 - Sudden Plays a Hand(1950) (34 page)

 
          
“Prosecution?’
Towler suggested, with a smile which acted
like a goad on the girl.

 
          
“‘Persecution’
was the word I was seeking,’ she retorted. “I have no wish for it to go on, and
ask you to dismiss the accused forthwith.’

 
          
Flushed
and breathless, she sank into her seat amidst general applause. Coarse-fibred
as most of the audience were, they could appreciate beauty, and above that,
courage. She found her real reward in the warm eyes of the man in the dock.

 
          
Silence
fell on the court; everyone was waiting for the decision. Towler, listening to
Camort, noticed that Cullin was talking to one of the jury.

 
          
“You
must not do that, Mister Cullin,’ he said sharply. “If it happens again, I
shall have you removed.’

 
          
The
rancher drew back, his face rigid. “Sorry,’ he drawled and with a palpable
sneer, “I thought the case was ended.’

 
          
The
Judge bent his gaze on the girl. “The matter is less simple than you imagine,
ma’am,’ he began. “You may condone a crime, but I cannot; it is my duty to
protect the public.’

 
          
“No
crime has been committed,’ she replied hotly. “Mister Drait did not steal the
cattle.’

 
          
“That
is what we are here to determine; the trial must go on.’

 
          
She
sat down, her eyes flaming. Sudden patted her shoulder, rose, and smiled
apologetically at the Judge. “She’s just naturally disappointed, seh,’ he said.
“Ain’t wishin’ to delay proceedin’s none, but I’m wonderin’ if yu’d settle a
triflin’ argument for me? A fella claimed that when a woman marries, any
property she has becomes the property o’ the husband. I didn’t agree, an’ we
had a li’l bet.’

 
          
“Which
you have lost,’ Towler said. “That is the law.’

 
          
“Never
was lucky,’ Sudden said sadly. “I’m obliged.’

 
          
But
his expression as he sat down belied his voice, and the meaning look he gave
the girl beside him electrified her. Red-faced, eyes shining, she cried: “I
again demand the release of the accused.’

 
          
The
Judge gestured wearily.
“On what grounds now?’

 
          
“You
have just stated them. Nicholas Drait is my husband, and owner of the S P. Even
this court cannot convict a man of stealing what already belongs to him. Here
is the proof.’ She produced the paper the minister had given her on that
fateful morning.

 
          
Again
the paralysed silence as the Judge bent over it. When he looked up it was to
ask sternly: “
Why
wasn’t I told of this earlier?’

 
          
“The
marriage was kept secret, at my request—the whim of a foolish woman.’ Mary said
steadily. “I did not know about the law until you answered Mister Green.’ She
smiled, enjoying her triumph. “They say a little knowledge is dangerous, but it
seems to me that a little ignorance is more destructive.’

 
          
The
Judge did not reply; he was
tasting
the bitterness of
defeat and not liking it. But there was no escape. In his best judicial manner,
he said: “
The
evidence now before the Court completely
destroys the case for the prosecution, and exonerates the accused.’

 
          
The
effort was received in silence. The cheering broke out only when Nick walked
from the dock, gripped his wife’s hand hard enough to account for the wetness
in her eyes, and turned to thank his friend.

 
          
“Forget
it,’ Sudden said hastily. “The Judge is goin’ to dismiss the jury; he mustn’t
do that.’

 
          
He
stepped on the platform, to be greeted with a sour look of surprise, and a
sharp, “Well, sir?’

 
          
“This
business ain’t finished,’ the puncher said bluntly. “Mebbe this’ll interest
you.’ He laid a letter on the desk.

 
          
Fear
gripped the jurist as he read. Briefly, the document informed all whom it might
concern, that the bearer, James Green, was deputed to enquire into the Pavitt
succession, and other irregularities in and around Midway, and to deal with
them as he thought fit. All officials were required to give him
every assistance
. It was signed, ‘Bleke, Governor.’

 
          
The
Judge drew a difficult breath. He could vision himself losing everything, even
his lioerty, for the Governor’s attitude to ill-doers justified his name. “I
wish you had made yourself known to me earlier.’ Sudden smiled. “What do you
wish me to do?’

 
          
“Tell
‘em the show ain’t over.’

 
          
The
Judge rapped for silence, and made the announcement, rather more
grandiloquently than the puncher had put it, and the audience, eager for the
excitement, quietened down.

 
          
“What
next?’

 
          
Sudden
pointed to Cullin, who, slumped in his seat, chin on chest, seemed oblivious to
what was happening. Indeed, the revelation that the woman he coveted was married
to the man he hated, following by the latter’s triumph, had mentally stunned
him. Put that man in the dock.’

 
          
Towler
gasped, doubting his own ears. ‘Cullin’s the most powerful man in these parts,’
he expostulated.

 
          
“Not
just now,’ Sudden reminded.

 
          
The
old man shivered, called the sheriff, and gave the order. Camort convinced that
his chief had gone mad, stammered, “
Ain’t
feelin’
sick, are you?’

 
          
The
Judge was—very sick. “Do as I tell you,’ he snapped.

 
          
Like
one awaking from an evil dream, Cullin sprang to his feet. “What the hell’s the
meanin’ o’ this, Towler? Are you crazy?’ he cried.

 
          
“Charges
have been made against you, Mister Cullin, and must be investigated—in your own
interest.’ The mild answer brought reason. Cullin felt no apprehension; he had
covered his trail too cleverly, but it would be foolish to antagonise those
present. So he dropped his bluster, and laughed.

 
          
“Never
thought of it thataway, but yo’re right.’ He stepped jauntily into the dock,
and as he passed, the sheriff deftly lifted the gun from his holster. At any
other time he would have been struck down, but the rancher merely shrugged; he
had a part to play.

 
          
He
did it well. As he faced the whispering, excited crowd, few suspected the
furnace of fury raging in his breast. One thing puzzled him—what had the cowboy
to do with it? “Well, Towler, trot out yore charges,’ he challenged.

 
          
It
was the cowboy who answered. “What amount did yu promise Seale if he succeeded
in not findin’ the heir, an’ got permission to sell the ranch?’

 
          
“I
made no promise an’ knew nothin’ of his plans. I was willin’ to buy the range
if it came on the market.’

 
          
Sudden
produced the letter found in the lawyer’s office, and the Judge read it aloud.

 
          
“I
never wrote that,’ Cullin denied. “It’s a forgery.’

 
          
“A
small matter, anyway,’ Sudden remarked carelessly. “But that don’t go for yore
plot to get Drait plugged in Little Basin.’ “With which I had no connection.’

 
          
“On’y
to put up the money, two hundred apiece; Tomini talked, Cullin,’ the puncher
said sternly. “Well, they bungled it, so yu had to try again. This time yu
raised the ante, an’ offered a thousand to Lukor, a notorious professional
killer.’

 
          
“Whose
name I never heard till after the shootin’,’ the rancher sneered.

 
          
“Two
witnesses can testify yu called on him at the Rideout hotel the day afore he
came to Midway.’

 
          
“Liars
are easy found.’

 
          
“Yu
oughta know. Lukor fell down on the job, an’ stayed down,’ Sudden went on
grimly. “He picked the wrong man; yore description must ‘a’ been lackin’ some.
For yore own safety, yu decided to let Drait live a little
longer,
an’ turned yore attention to grabbin’ the S P. As usual, yu hired others to do
the dirty work. They were to steal an’ hide cattle so that yu could collect ‘em
when the owner had been scared into sellin’ yu the ranch. Yore rustlers were
careless, the cows traced an’ fetched back to Shadow Valley.’

 
          
“You
oughta be writin’ dime novels,’ Cullin said, but his eyes were uneasy.

 
          
“That
gave you yore chance; it shore looked like an open an’ shut case o’ rustlin’,’
Sudden continued. “The sheriff was instructed to arrest Drait, an’ yu had the S
P owner kidnapped so that she could not interfere.’

 
          
“That’s
an infernal lie,’ Cullin cried, with a fine air of indignation.

 
          
The
puncher’s reply was to hand the Judge the letter he had found on the sheriff’s
desk. The reading caused a sensation.

 
          
Cullin
dismissed it in two words: “
Another
forgery.’

 
          
“No,’
the Judge said firmly. “Comparing these with others in my possession, I find
the writing identical.’

 
          
“On
the strength of two letters I never wrote, and a lot o’ guess-work, I’ve been
accused of attempts to break the law, but Drait is still alive, the lady is
back in our midst, an’ I still do not own the S P. My career of crime seems to
be a failure.’

 
          
“Not
quite,’ Sudden corrected. “Once yu succeeded, an’ that once will hang yu,
Cullin
. I mean the murder of Eddie Olsen.’

 
          
The
blow went home. Confidence left him, fear taking its place.

 
          
“Easy
to accuse,’ he said. “Where’s yore proof?’

 
          
“With
his last breath, Gilman named yu.’

 
          
“He
allus hated me. A dead man’s word; is that all?’ Cullin jeered.

 
          
Sudden
beckoned towards the door, and two men sitting by it rose and walked to the
platform. Exclamations of wonder followed their recognition. “Bull an’ Frayle.
What’s comin’ now?’ men asked.

 
          
“Bardoe,
yu saw Olsen die. What happened?’

 
          
“Nine
of us went to throw a scare into Drait. Olsen said he warn’t to home. Cullin
called him a liar, clutched his throat, an’ swore to choke the truth out’n him;
he choked the life out instead.
Me
an’ Frayle
protested, but he was past listenin’, just murder-mad. When it was done, he
told two o’ his men to hang the body from a limb, and said it would show Drait
we meant business.’

 
          
Sudden
looked at Frayle.
‘Anythin’ to add?’

 
          
“No,
that’s just how it was.’

 
          
The
pitiful story brought a low, threatening growl, mixed with forcible expressions
of disgust. Cullin shot a furtive glance at the spectators; contempt, cold
condemnation, ironical curiosity, satisfaction, all these things he read in the
hard faces, but no pity. He made a last effort:

 
          
“What
are they payin’ you for these lies, Bardoe?’ he asked.

 
          
“A
lot less’n you offered me for robbin’ the S P an’ carryin’ off its mistress,’
was the reply. The rustler’s fierce eyes swept the gathering. “Every word I’ve
said is God’s own truth, an’ if I have to follow you into the dock, I won’t
squeal—if they clean it out first. I ain’t proud o’ my record but it
don’t
include guzzlin’ an unarmed cripple.’