Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 10 - Sudden Plays a Hand(1950) (7 page)

 
          
“Yeah,
an’ if my fellas do find ‘em you’ll swing yet, for all yore fairy tale,’ was
the answer.

 
          
Drait,
leaning comfortably against the bar, glanced round at the audience. “A hard
man, our unworthy sheriff,’ he remarked, and passed a piece of paper to the
saloonkeeper. “
Suspicious, too.
Tell the company what
that is, Sol.’

 
          
Merker
read aloud: “Received from Nick Drait, four S P horses he had reason to believe
stolen from this ranch.’ He paused a moment. “It bears today’s date, an’ is
signed by jack Gilman.’

 
          
Open
sniggers greeted the discomfiture of the officer, who was by no means popular
with some of the townsfolk upon whom he had been forced. He glared at the
offenders, but could conjure up no retort to the blow. The nester spoke,
contemptuously:”So you see, Stinker, I gotta decline yore invitation to the
calaboose, but if I’m robbin’ you o’ one job, I’m givin’ you another. When I
reached home in the afternoon, I found Eddie Olsen—dead, an’ hangin’ from a
limb.
That don’t
seem to surprise you.’

 
          
The
sheriff’s unhealthy face had become a shade paler, and his attempt to depict
astonishment was a poor effort. He lifted his massive shoulders.

 
          
“Nothin’
that happens in Shadow Valley surprises me, ‘cept that a damn fool should try
to live there,’ he sneered. “Gimme the facts an’ I’ll look into it.’

 
          
“As you did the murder o’ young Rawlin?’

 
          
“That
was self-defence, an’ I’ll bet this was too.’

 
          
“You’d
lose; Eddie was crippled, an’ he didn’t tote a gun. He was hanged just as a
warnin’ to me.’ A long-faced, bearded man at one of the tables looked up. “Why,
there wasn’t
no
harm in Eddie,’ he remarked. “Hanged,
huh?’

 
          
“Yeah,
Pilch,’ Drait replied. “
Nine full-growed, masked men to
murder one disabled, unarmed lad.’

 
          
“Yore
chaps reckernize any of ‘em?’ the officer asked.

 
          
“Do
you think I’d be here if they had?’ Nick said savagely. The reply seemed to
relieve the questioner. “Cattle-thieves, I reckon,’ he said. “There’s plenty
about.’

 
          
‘Yo’re
right, an’ all of ‘em own ranches. But these houn’s warn’t after cattle, but
me, an’ this proves it.’

 
          
He
read out the notice the killers had left, and the sheriff shut his teeth on an
oath; why did the cursed fools have to be so theatrical?

 
          
“What
you expect me to do?’

 
          
“I
ain’t expectin’, Camort,’ Drait told him. “You’ll do what yore masters’ tell
you, like any other tame dawg.’

 
          
Hard-boiled
as he was, the bitter taunt stung, and the sheriff’s face purpled with passion.
But the flinty-eyed man who had hurled it at him was an unknown quantity, and
Camort had a fondness for certainties. Remembrance came that, by virtue of his
office, he was a privileged person. An ugly light in his slitted eyes, he
ordered a drink, and turned on his tormentor.

 
          
“That’ll
be all from you, Drait,’ he said furiously. “Pull yore gun, you…’

 
          
As
the last word left his lips, he grabbed the glass on the bar, flung the
contents full in the nester’s face, and reached for his hip. Drait was
helpless, blinded by the fiery spirit, and it seemed the dastard design must
succeed. Camort’s gun was out, and his finger actually pressing the trigger
when flame jetted from the left hip of the strange puncher, now standing clear
of the bar; the threatening weapon clattered on the floor, and with a yelped
oath, its owner clutched a ripped fore-arm. Before he could move, iron hands
gripped his throat, shook him like a rat, and flung him away. Against the power
in those long, muscular arms the sheriff’s bulk availed him not at all. The
astounded spectators saw him stagger backwards, crash into a table, and lie
prone amidst the ruins. The puncher stepped towards him.

 
          
“Stinker
is correct,’ he said. “Of all the rotten skunks I ever met—an’ that’s quite a
few—yo’re the meanest. I oughta blowed yore light out; if yu get in my way
again, I’ll do it—that star yu disgrace ain’t a circumstance to me.’ Camort,
understanding that he was safe for the time, ventured a threat: “I’ll git you
both for this.’

 
          
Sudden
laughed, and looked at the company. “Make a note o’ that, gents. If we’re found
shot from behind, yu’ll know who did it.’

 
          
“You
betcha,’ Pilch replied. “An’ don’t judge this town by that fella, Mister—he
warn’t no pop’lar selection. If he’d downed Drait by that trick I’d ‘a’ laid
him out too, an’ that’s whatever.’

 
          
“Good
for yu,’ the puncher smiled, and seeing that his friend now had the use of his
eyes again, added, “Comin’, Nick?’

 
          
When
they were in the saddle again, the nester said, “That’s the second time in
twenty-four hours you’ve saved my life. Hell, I’ll be scared to go about
without you soon, but if the ante is too big, I ain’t holdin’ you.’

 
          
“Shucks!’
the other said. “Why, that two-bit imitation peace-officer would say I’d run
away from him. No, sir, I’m seein’ this game through to my last chip.’

 
          
“I’m
shore obliged,’ Drait said, and meant much more.

 
          
A
week passed uneventfully. Every morning Mary rode up the valley with her
husband for a lesson in shooting, only to come back with a sense of
frustration. He was a considerate, attentive companion and nothing more; all
her advances failed to penetrate the armour of bluff good-fellowship in which
he seemed to have encased himself. At times, she wondered if he suspected her
design and was also playing a part—a thought which only stiffened her resolve
to punish him. But nevertheless, she enjoyed the
jaunts,
the valley had an endless variety of interest. So she was conscious of real
disappointment when Nick announced he could not accompany her.

 
          
“Gotta
go into town,’ he explained. “O’ course, you could take Beau.’

 
          
The
suggestion was casually made, but there was an expression on his face she could
not read. “I shall be quite all right by myself,’ she replied.

 
          
“I
dunno—that end ain’t plugged yet,’ he said doubtfully. “Have yore gun along.’

 
          
She
promised, and then remarked, “
The
sheriff of Midway
doesn’t think much of you, does he?’ This brought the ghost of a grin. “I
wouldn’t wonder if he’s thinkin’ quite a lot o’ me,’ he drawled. “Are you
taking Mister Green?’

 
          
This
time there could be no evasion. “Who’s been talkin’ outa turn?’ he asked.

 
          
“I
don’t know,’ she told him, adding softly, “I only want you to be careful.’

 
          
In
the case of nine men out of ten, her apparent solicitude would have produced
some sign, but the nester’s face remained unchanged. Muttering something about
chattering chumps, he went out. At the corral he met Yorky and gave him
instructions, concluding with, “Don’t show yoreself ‘less you have to; guess
there
ain’t
any real risk, but till that far end is
corked up …’

 
          
Yorky
nodded; he would have liked to ask a question, but had been well-schooled by
Sudden, and knew when to keep his mouth shut. As Drait rode away, the boy’s
approving eyes followed him. Two of a kind—Jim an’ him,’ he informed the air. “Gosh!
Glad I’m on their side.’

 
          
Nick
found the rest of his outfit busy at the wall, which was now a formidable
obstacle. Calling Quilt aside, he explained about Yorky, and added a word of
praise. “We’ll finish her today, an’ she ain’t
no
slouch of a job,’ the foreman said. “If
yo’re needin’
Jim….’

 
          
“Why
should I be?’

 
          
“Headin’
for town, ain’t you?’

 
          
“Well?’
Sharply.

 
          
The
sheriff is shootin’ off his mouth quite a bit. Shore, he’s still crippled, but
he has friends.’

 
          
Drait
frowned. “Who’s been yappin’ around here?’

 
          
“I
can tell you one who ain’t an’
that’s
the fella what
knowed all about it—reckon he was raised among Injuns,’ the little man grinned.
Was
you expectin’ to keep it secret?’

 
          
“Beats
hell how the news gets about in this country,’ the nester grumbled.

 
          
“Little
birds certainly ain’t scarce,’ Quilt agreed, and when the other was out of
hearing, added, “Nick, if you wasn’t more generous with yore dollars than yore
words nobody’d work for you ‘cept damn fools like me.’ He pondered a moment. “An’
I shore
am
one; if I hadn’t mentioned Jim, mebbe you
wouldn’t ‘a’ gone alone; I oughta be booted.’

 
          
Mary,
riding slowly along the valley, was thinking much the same thing. The rebuff
she had received still brought the colour to her cheeks. She had learned from
Lindy of the bearding of the sheriff. Brutal, unscrupulous the nester might be,
but she had to admit that he had the quality most esteemed in the West—courage.
Fight—that was Nature’s universal law….

 
          
An
amused voice broke in on her meditations. “You didn’t oughta be all alone this
bright mornin’.’

 
          
She
turned to find Beau Lamond pacing just behind, hat in hand, a confident gleam
in his dark eyes. She drew rein. “Did Mister Drait ask you to ride with me?’
she enquired. “Why, no, must ‘a’ forgot,’ he smiled.

 
          
“On
the contrary, he offered me your company, but I told him I preferred my own.’

 
          
His
conceit would not accept this. “Say, but that was real cute of you,’ he
complimented.

 
          
“Not
at all, it was true,’ she returned icily, and rode on.

 
          
He
made no attempt to follow her, save with his furious gaze.

 
          
“So
that’s the way of it, huh?’ he growled. “Well, it takes two to make a game, an’
I can wait.’

 
          
Savagely
he wrenched his horse about and spurred to the gate. Smoky read the flushed
features aright.

 
          
“Sorta
took the wrong turnin’, Beau?’ he queried.

 
          
“Mind
yore own damn business,’ the other snapped.

 
          
“Somebody
just bin tellin’ you that?’

 
          
Before
the incipient quarrel developed, Quilt crushed it. “Better both try it,’ he
said sharply. ‘
Git busy.’

 
          
The
girl did not look round. Her anger was not all caused by the cowboy’s
presumption, some of it being due to the unwelcome feeling that she was missing
the big, taciturn man who had been her daily companion. Resentfully, she told
herself that it was absurd, but nevertheless, the valley did not seem quite the
same. She passed the pool, almost without a glance, dismounted and fired twelve
shots at the tree, hitting it twice. This would please Nick, at which thought
she straightway resolved not to tell him.

 
          
On
reaching the end, she faced round and sat drinking in the scene. The green
oval, with its mirror-like pool and frame of grey, toothed rock, seemed utterly
peaceful. The bulge in the cliffs prevented her from seeing the
ranch-house,
or the entrance where the men would be working.
The sun’s rays, growing stronger, were licking the diamond drops from the
grass. Mary breathed deeply.