Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 10 - Sudden Plays a Hand(1950) (6 page)

 
          
“Shouldn’t
be difficult unless she’s left the state, or is dead,’ Sudden remarked. “I
understand they got mighty little to go on. One letter from her was found among
Sam’s papers; it told that her husband—the cause o’ the trouble atween ‘em—had
passed on, but called him by his front name only, an’ mentioned a kid named
“Frankie.” The address had been torn off, so I guess she never had a reply.
It’s a fine ranch, an’ I guess Gilman is featherin’ his nest aplenty.’

 
          
“Crooked,
huh?’

 
          
“A
corkscrew would look straight by the side of him.’

 
          
The
first few miles took them over scrub-dotted plain, and no trail being visible,
Sudden guessed they were making a short cut. Then they emerged upon a rough
wagon-road, pitted with innumerable hoofprints. Drait jerked a thumb to the
right.

 
          
“Leads
to Midway,’ he said. “We’ll be samplin’ it later.’

 
          
They
turned left, and after a while—to Sudden’s surprise—the road began to improve;
trees and brush had been cut down or uprooted to make it wide enough for two
vehicles to pass, and attempts made, in bad spots, to level the surface, but
there were signs that the wilderness was encroaching again.

 
          
“Ol’
Sam had nhis done an’ damn near lost most of his riders over it—cowboys don’t
cotnon to road-makin’,’ Drait informed. “Gilman ain’t takin’ risks, seemin’ly.’

 
          
A
gradual rise of another mile brought them to the end of the road and a wide
strip of open country covered with crisp, brown grass.
In the
midst of it, a group of buildings, and behind, a background of low,
tree-swathed hills.

 
          
“Nice
location,’ Sudden commented.

 
          
“You
said it,’ his companion agreed. “Good ranch-house, lashin’s o’ the best feed,
an’ plenty water,’ he grinned.
“If I owned this place, damn
me if I wouldn’t turn honest.’

 
          
“It
would certainly be a temptation,’ Sudden smiled.

 
          
As
they neared the ranch-house, a stocky, powerful man came out, and, leaning
against one of the supports of the veranda roof, watched them ride up. There
was no welcome in the bunton-like eyes, set too closely on a beak of a nose,
and the thin lips, clamped to the butt of a black cigar, did not suggest
amiability.

 
          
“What’s
yore errand?’ he asked brusquely, as they drew rein. “Fetched back four broncs
wearin’ the S P iron, an’ I want a receipt for ‘em,’ Drait replied. “How come
they’re in yore hands?’ “Four o’ Bardoe’s toughs were ridin’ ‘
em, an’ not bein’ satisfied with their explanation, an’ for another
reason, I set ‘em afoot.’

 
          
“What
was the other reason?’

 
          
“They
tried to hang me.’

 
          
The
man on the veranda scowled. “Didn’t it occur to you I might ‘a’ loaned them hosses?’

 
          
“That
didn’t occur to them till it was too late to put it over,’ the nester retorted.
“Besides, I figured you wouldn’t be quite so all-fired friendly with the 8 B
outfit.’

 
          
He
got an oblique glance from the shifty eyes. “An’ that’s correct,’ Gilman
growled. “
Back in a minute.’
He went through a door,
and presently returned with a slip of paper. “I’m obliged,’ he said. ‘Anythin’
Bardoe gits his claws on is apt to be a total loss. I’ll give you a word of
advice, Drait; if you’ve fallen foul o’ Bull, hit the trail; you’ve no chance
here, anyways. Don’t forget what happened to Rawlin.’

 
          
“I
ain’t likely to,’ Nick replied. Was Bardoe in that?’

 
          
“If
I knew,
d’you think
I’d tell you—‘specially in front
of a witness?’ Gilman asked ironically, with a measuring look at the other
visitor.

 
          
“Jim
Green—he’s ridin’ for me,’ Drait introduced. “Jim, this is Jack Gilman, foreman
here.’ The two men nodded “
Any
news o’ the missin’
heir?’

 
          
“No,
damn it, I wish they’d git the business settled,’ was the reply. “Got any
cattle in Shadow Valley yet?’

 
          
Drait
shook his head. “What I bought from Rawlin
were
stolen.’

 
          
The
foreman’s expression of concern seemed genuine. “Too bad,’ he said. “Come an’
see me before you buy any more; mebbe I can save you some coin.’

 
          
“I’ll
remember that,’ Drait replied. “An’ in case there’s any doubts floatin’ around,
you can pass the word that the Valley belongs to me, an’ I’m stayin’ in it.’

 
          
Gilman
sent an ugly look after them as they rode away. “Stayin’ in it?’ he repeated. “Mebbe
yo’re right; young Rawlin is doin’ the same. Wonder where he picked up that
two-gun hombre? He ain’t
no
pilgrim, an’ his hoss
warn’t born this side o’ the Border.
Needs keepin’ an eye on,
that fella.’

 
          
Which
thought, curiously enough, was in the minds of both his
visitors.

 
          
“Well,
what
d’you think
of him?’ Nick asked.

 
          
Sudden’s
grimace was expressive. “I wouldn’t, ‘less I had to,’ he answered.

 
          
“Same
here, but I’ll be interested to know how he’s goin’ to save me money, an’ I’m
willin’ to bet I’ll save more if I don’t let him.’

 
          
“I
ain’t takin’ yu,’ Sudden laughed. “
Where we goin’ now?’

 
          
“The
licentious an’ thoroughly disreputable settlement of Midway,’ Drait replied. “An’
it ain’t called that because it’s halfway between Heaven an’ the other place,
for Midway is next door to Hell.’

 
          
“Sounds fierce.’

 
          
“That’s
how it is. Coupla years back, when the Judge was appointed, the decent citizens
looked for better things, an’ they built him a fine new court-house an’
calaboose—hopin’. But the cattlemen got hold of him an’ like the
sheriff,
he wants to keep his job.’

 
          
“But
that depends on the Governor,’ Sudden objected.

 
          
“Who
wouldn’t have any use for a dead judge,’ was the grim retort.

 
          
“The
ranchers must be pretty strong.’

 
          
“Their
custom means a lot, an’ they have the lawless element with ‘em. How many? Well,
there’s the S P, north; the Big C—Cullin’s, south-east; the Double V—Vic
Vasco’s, southwest; the 8 B—Bardoe’s, due west; so I’ve got em all round me.
It’s a swell nest o’ yeller-jackets you’ve stepped into.’

 
          
“My
hide is thick,’ the puncher smiled.

 
          
To
the unaccustomed eye, Midway could only appear as a blot on the landscape. A
few of the buildings boasted a second storey, some were false-fronted to convey
that impression, and others were just cabins with sodded roofs. As they entered
the town, Drait pulled up, and pointed.

 
          
“There
she is,’ he said. “
Midway’s pride.’

 
          
It
was a big building, standing back from the others. Substantially constructed of
squared logs, it had a second floor, and three doors, the boards above which
told that here was congregated, in the court-house, gaol, and sheriff’s office,
the whole machinery of the Law.

 
          
“Looks
fine from here,’ Sudden said. “Seen the inside?’ “Not yet,’ the nester grinned.
“There’s Judge Towler.’

 
          
Sudden
saw an oldish man passing on the other side of the street. Even without his
battered high hat he would have been tall but for a pronounced stoop. A
full-skirted shabby black coat flapped about his thighs, his boiled shirt was
wrinkled and soiled, and his grey beard unkempt. Nevertheless, he still
presented a kind of decayed distinction. Eyes bent, he seemed to be choosing
his steps carefully, and twice they saw him stumble.

 
          
“I’m
told he’s hittin’ the bottle pretty constant,’ Drait remarked. Pity—he’s got
brains; if
he
on’y had courage too….’ They went on to
dismount at a saloon which announced itself as “Merker’s.’ Underneath was the
statement, “No Fancy Names and No Funny Business.’

 
          
“An’
that’s no brag,’ Drait said. “If you lose here, you have lost, an’ if you win,
yo’re paid.’

 
          
The
company within was small—less than a dozen men were seated at the tables in
front of the bar, and the various games of chance were idle. Behind a barrier
of polished mahogany stood a dark-haired, smooth-chinned man whose face would
not have appeared out of place above a clerical collar.

 
          
“Glad
to see you, Nick,’ he greeted, and when the nester presented his companion,
added, “
You
too, Mister Green.’ He set out the
inevitable bottle and glasses, and in a lowered tone, said, “
The
sheriff is makin’ a big talk an’ is lookin’ for you.’

 
          
“Now
if that ain’t lucky,’ Drait replied. “I
came
a-purpose
to see him; get a bit further away, Jim; you don’t know me till we hear what he
has to say.’

 
          
A
moment later, the swing-door was thrust aside, and the officer entered. Short,
barrel-like in body, with stumpy, powerful legs, he waddled rather than walked
in. Meanness was evident in his puffy cheeks, slit of a mouth, and cunning
eyes, which gleamed for a moment when they rested on the nester, and then
almost vanished, as though a light had been lowered inside him. He had been
given—but did not rejoice in—the nickname of “Stinker,’ owing to a reputed
adventure with a skunk.

 
          
Pompously
throwing out his huge chest, on which his badge was prominently displayed, and
hitching his gun-belt so that the butt was handy, he growled, “Drait, I wanta
see you.’

 
          
Nick
turned slowly. “Help yoreself,’ he said. “But don’t come too close—my nose is a
mite sensitive.’ A chuckle from an onlooker did not improve the officer’s
temper. “Funny, huh?’ he sneered. “Well, laugh this one off: I’m arrestin’
you.’ “Is—that—so?’ the young man queried. “I’ve often wondered how it felt.
Seems simple.
What
d’you do
next?’

 
          
The
sheriff ignored the question—an evasion which made some of
those
present smile
, but their faces became serious enough when he continued.
‘Yo’re charged with stealin’ four hosses from the S P.’

 
          
The
accused grinned. “How on earth did you find that out, Stinker?’ he wanted to
know.

 
          
“That’s
my business.’

 
          
“Shore
it is, but you never do it, an’ didn’t this time. You had yore information from
a cow-thief named Lanty.’

 
          
“That
amounts to a confession,’ the sheriff said eagerly.

 
          
“How
d’you
figure it?’

 
          
“Because’
he paused, suddenly aware of an obstacle, and Drait finished the sentence:

 
          
“Lanty
won’t like bein’ dragged into it, but he’s goin’ to be. Yestiddy, he an’ three
o’ Bardoe’s bullies ambushed, an’ were just about to string me up when a couple
o’ strangers happened along an’ interfered. The Bardoe men were usin’ S P
broncs, an’ claimed to be ridin’ for Gilman. I didn’t believe it, an’ set ‘em
afoot. So Lanty tries to come back at me by tellin’ the sheriff he’ll find
stolen stock at Shadow Valley. Sent there yet, Stinker?’