Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 01 - The Range Robbers(1930) (49 page)

 
          
“Well,
I reckon that was the prettiest scrap I ever seen, an’ a right good finish.’

 
          
The
harsh voice jarred the girl back to consciousness, and looking round, she saw
Laban. Leisurely dismounting he walked to the body of his friend, callously
turned it over, and snood contemplating it, a satirical grin on his thin lips.

 
          
“I
reckon yo’re good an’ dead, Joe,’ he said. “Plumb between the eyes, a left-hand
shot, an’ him plugged too. Sudden shore deserved his reputation. Well, seein’
as there ain’t
no one
else, I guess I must be the
missin’ heir.’ He looked malevolently at the girl. “Not that I’m wantin’ yu the
way Joe was, but I reckon Old Simon’ll pay somethin’ no get yu back. As for
him’—he nodded towards the cowpuncher—”by Gosh!
he
ain’t gone yet —he’s breathin’.’

 
          
Running
to the girl he slashed her bonds with a knife and pulled her from the saddle.

 
          
“Help
me tie him up—he’s worth ten thousand alive,’ he ordered. “An’ don’t try no
tricks for I’d as soon shoot yu as not.’

 
          
The
threat was not necessary, for Noreen’s one anxiety was to help the wounded man.
An examination of his hurt showed that the bullet had entered the right side of
the chest, fairly high up, and had passed clean through. Strips from her
underskirt and handkerchiefs supplied bandages, and Laban showed some skill in
their adjustment. When this was done to his satisfaction he rose and grinned at
her.

 
          
“He’ll
live to decorate a tree yet, if we can get him away from here. Fetch that hoss
o’ mine, he’s quiet; we’ll have to tie him on.’

 
          
“It
will kill him,’ the girl said indignantly.

 
          
“Do
as you’re told,’ he snarled. “Or—’

 
          
His
threatening hand was still in the air when a quiet but meaning voice said, “Put
the other up too, Seth, an’ keep ‘em up.’

 
          
Laban
knew that voice and his biceps were cuddling his ears when he faced round to
find Snap Lunt standing, gun in hand, a bare dozen yards away. Busy with the
bandaging,
neinher he
nor the girl had noticed his
approach. The little gunman’s eyes were blazing and the expression on his face
was that of a devil. Laban tried to temporise.

 
          
“Hello,
Snap, yo’re just in time to take Miss Petter home—I was wonderin’ what to do
with her,’ he began. “Joe an’ Sudden had a mix up an’

 
          
“Step
back, an’ keep doin’ it,’ came the cold command, emphasised by the levelled
gun.

 
          
Laban,
thinking the other merely wanted him further from the girl, obeyed, and for
each step backward that he took, Lunt took one forward. So they went for
perhaps twenty paces, and then Laban said: “What’s the idea, Snap? If yu got
anythin’ to say—’

       
“Keep movin’,’ was the stern reply.

 
          
Some
instinct made the rustler glance over his shoulder and he suddenly shrieked.
One more pace backward would have sent him over the precipice to crash upon the
rocks hundreds of feet below. Shivering with fear he tried to edge forward away
from the ghastly chasm.

 
          
“Back,’
came
the inexorable command, and a bullet tore off the
upper part of an ear.

 
          
Flinging
himself on his knees the miserable creature begged for mercy, crying aloud that
he had not hurt the outlaw, whose wound he had bound up, that he had always
liked Snap, and that he meant no harm to Noreen. He might as well have pleaded
to a stone man. Snap took another step forward.

 
          
“Seth,’
he said. “Yu are agoin’ over, dead or alive. Which is it to be?’

 
          
He
meant it; the lust to kill was upon him, and he well knew that the grovelling
wretch before him was as unfit to live as he was to die. But the sight was more
than the girl could bear. She laid her hand on the gunman’s arm.

 
          
“Please
let him go, Snap,’-she begged. “He has not harmed me, and whatever his motive,
he bound up Mr. Green’s wound. Perhaps he will go straight in future.’

 
          
“Huh! ‘bout
as straight as a corkscrew,’ Lunt growled. “He’s
a bad lot an’ yo’re doin’ the world a poor service turnin’ him loose on it
agin, but yu don’t have to ask me twice for anythin’, Miss Norry, an’ that
goes.’

 
          
He
walked no Laban took away his gun, and pointed up the pass. “Get,’ he said.
“An’ remember this, next time we meet yu better see me first for I’ll be
shootin’ on sight.’

 
          
“Yu
ain’t turnin’ me loose afoot an’ without grub, are yu?’ quavered Laban.

 
          
“Make
tracks,’ ordered the gunman. “Yu got yore life an’ that’s all I’m givin’ yu.’

 
          
Having
watched the broken rustler stagger up the pass and vanish round a bend, Snap
turned his attention to the problem of getting the sick man home. Green was
conscious—he even essayed a grin when he saw Lunt—and he also grasped the
situation.

 
          
“Tie
me to the saddle,’ he said. “I reckon I can make it.’

 
          
With
both of them helping, and by making a supreme effort which brought the sweat in
beads to his brow, he managed to climb to the back of Laban’s pony, which
appeared to be the most docile. Then with the girl on one side, and Snap,
leading the spare horse, on the other, they began the journey. Never will
Noreen forget those hours of torture. Compelled to move at a walking pace,
constantly watching that the wounded man did not slip from the saddle, the
ordeal seemed endless. Ere a mile had been traversed, Green’s head sagged
forward and he began to mutter. References to Tarman, Bill Evesham, and to
Larry came indistinctly to her ears, and then she heard her own name, and
blushed furiously while her heart sang.

 
          
“Don’t
yu heed him, Miss Norry,’ said Lunt, when the delirious man ripped out an oath.
“He’s out of his head, that’s all.’

 
          
“This
ride will kill him,’ the girl replied anxiously. ‘Do yu think the hurt is very
bad?’

 
          
“Can’t
say, Miss Norry, but I’ve seen wuss,’ Snap told her. “I’m hopin’ the lead has
missed the lungs an’ in that case he’ll likely be as good as new in a month or
two; he’s a clean-liver an’ tough as rawhide.’

 
          
Noreen
rode on in silence. Only when she had seen him go down before Tarman’s
treacherous bullet had she realised what this nameless stranger with the
terrible reputation really meant to her. She summed it up in one
word—everything, and as she helped to hold the swaying, lurching form, with its
death-white face, in the saddle, she prayed as she had never done before. Mile
after mile they crawled and the patient drooped more and more over his
saddlehorn until Noreen feared that he must collapse entirely.

 
          
She
herself was little better and only the courage of despair enabled her to endure
that terrible ride. At length, when it seemed that she could hold out no
longer, came a cheerful word from
Lunt :

 
          
“Yonder’s
the house,’ he said. “An’ I reckon the dance is over.’ He was right. When they
presently rode into the clearing they found the attackers busy rounding up
their mounts and preparing to depart. The shout which greeted their arrival
brought Leeming on the run. Green, who had been lifted down and laid on a
blanket, had a spell of sanity.

 
          
“Did
yu get him?’ asked the Frying Pan owner.

 
          
“Yes,’
replied the puncher. “
Yu ‘pear to have cleaned up here too.’

 
          
“All
but them, an’ they won’t take long,’ said Job grimly, pointing to a group of
five men, sitting on their horses but with their hands bound behind them. One
of these was
West
, and the rustler grinned cheerily
when he saw Green looking at him.

 
          
“Good-bye,
partner,’ he called. “Glad yu got her—an’ him.’ Painfully the hurt man raised
himself on an elbow. “That man goes free, Job,’ he said. “He saved my life an’
turned me loose to follow Tarman.’

 
          
“He
was in the house with ‘em,’ Leeming said. “He helped steal my cattle an’ mebbe
shot some o’ my men.’

 
          
“Aw,
partner, I’ll take my medicine with the rest,’ the Californian said.

 
          
“He
goes free,’ Green repeated stubbornly. “But for him I’d be cashed, an’ Miss
Norry’

 
          
Leeming
gave in, and when the condemned were conducted into the forest by half a dozen
of the Frying Pan boys the Californian was not among them. To the surprise of
his captors, however, he made no attempt to get away.

 
          
“I’m
stayin’ around,’ he explained to Larry. “I reckon I’ll be able to thank him
when he’s good an’ well again.’

 
          
For
having paid his debt to the rustler, Green had lapsed into unconsciousness, and
was giving his friends a good deal of anxiety.

 
          
SOME
three weeks later it was “visiting day’ at the Y Z ranch-house; for the first
time since he had been carried there, a limp, unconscious form, Green was
allowed to see his friends. One at a time the punchers came into the room,
chatted for a few moments and then, at a nod from Noreen, who was in charge of
the invalid, went out again. Stereotyped as the inquiries and wishes were, the
girl sensed the genuine feeling which prompted them, and her pride in her
patient grew. The pale-faced man, propped up by pillows, had a smile for all
and there was a look in his eyes which told the girl that he too realised the
affection beneath the awkwardness. When West came in and gripped his hand, all
the usually loquacious Californian could find to say was: “I’m thankin’ yu,
partner.’

 
          
“S’pose
we call it square,’ suggested the sick man.

 
          
West
shook his head. “Not yet,’ he said, and then, “I’m stayin’ here.’

 
          
“I’m
right pleased,’ Green replied. “I was hopin’ yu would.’

 
          
Then
came Old Simon, who had nearly recovered, and with him Job Leeming. The Frying
Pan owner, having regained his cattle, and as he put it, “cleaned up the
country,’ was in the best of humours. He grinned at the occupant of the bed.

 
          
“Humph!’
he remarked. “I shall certainly know where to come for a nurse when I get shot
up.’

 
          
“Miss
Noreen has been wonderful; I reckon I wouldn’t ‘a’made the grade but for her,’
Green replied, and the girl flushed at the warmth in his tone and the look
which accompanied the words. Job’s eyes went from one to the other. Then, with
a chuckle, he
said :

 
          
“I’ve
been havin’ an argument with Simon here, an’ I’d like yore opinion, Green.
Three o’ my best punchers, who came to me after bein’ given their time at the Y
Z, want to renig an’ come back, an’ Simon is encouragin’ them revolutionary
notions. I say it ain’t fair.’

 
          
Green
looked at the twinkling eyes and his own crinkled at the corners as he
replied :

 
          
“Mebbe
it ain’t, but it’s cold common sense all the same. We shore can’t get along
without Ginger, Dirty, an’ Simple.’

 
     
 
“We can’t, eh?’ queried the other.

 
          
“He’s
the new foreman o’ the Y Z, on shares,’ explained Old Simon. “I figure I owe
him that.’