Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 02 - Sudden(1933) (36 page)

 
          
“Where
do we go now?” she asked.

 
          
A
mocking laugh answered her. “Yu don’t,” said a hated voice, and a lifted
lantern drove away the darkness. King Burdette was standing a few yards in
front of them, one thumb hooked in his belt and a jeering grin on his face.
Like a flash Luce whipped out his gun and covered him.

 
          
“Stand
outa the way or I’ll send yu to hell pronto,” the boy rasped.

 
          
The
threatened man laughed. “Yu couldn’t kill one o’ yore own kin, Luce,” he said.

 
          
“Yu
ain’t that, thank God,”
came
the retort.

 
          
King
laughed again. “Found that out at last, huh?” he sneered. “Well, it shore was
funny to see yu swaggerin’ around, puttin’ on frills as one o’ the family when
allatime yu was on’y a nameless brat.”

 
          
“I’d
a thousand times sooner be that than a Black Burdette,” Luce retorted
passionately, and, as his finger tightened on the trigger, “I’ve warned yu that
there’s nothin’ to prevent me shootin’ yu down…”

 
          
The
elder man snarled a curse. “Nothin’ to prevent yu?” he repeated. “Why, yu young
fool, there’s a dozen guns coverin’ yu right now. Fire, an’ be damned to yu;
we’ll go together, an’ instead o’ one admirer Miss Purdie’ll have quite a
number.”

 
          
The
fiendish threat underlying the last words drove the blood from the rescuer’s
cheeks.

 
          
He
looked around and saw dark forms with levelled revolvers step from the shadows
into the lamp-light. He was trapped. Doubtless King had been watching for some
such attempt—Luce knew Mandy would not betray him—and had enjoyed allowing it
to almost succeed; it was in keeping with the cruel humour of the man. With a
smothered groan he holstered his weapon. He might have killed King, but he
would lose his own life and leave Nan at the mercy of men who did not know the
meaning of the word. Once more the hateful laugh rang out.

 
          
“Learnin’
sense, huh? Well, I’m a good teacher,” King said. “Unbuckle yore belt an’ let
it drop.”

 
          
“That’s
a trick I taught yu,” Luce reminded him, as he complied with the order.

 
          
The
gibe sank in; King’s face became a mask of malignity. “Don’t push on yore
reins, boy,” he hissed. “I’ll be learnin’ yu aplenty afore I’m through.” He
turned to his men. “Tie an’ lock ‘em up—apart, an’ then cut that damn tree
down.”

 
          
Luce
looked at his fellow-prisoner. “I’m sorry, Nan,” he said miserably. “Reckon
I’ve on’y made things worse for yu.”

 
          
The
girl smiled bravely. “No, it was fine of you to come, Luce,” she replied, and
her tone was a caress. “I’m not afraid now.”

 
          
“Better
tell him good-bye; yu won’t be seein’ him again,” King mocked.

 
          
The
threat did not have the effect he expected—it only roused the girl’s fighting
spirit. “I’ll do that,” she said quietly. “Thank you, Luce, and in case this
coward means what he

says
…” She reached up and kissed the astonished
boy full on the lips. “I’ll never forget, dear—never,” she whispered.

 
          
To
have his taunt flung back in his face was more than Burdette had bargained for,
but he repressed his rage and substituted a sneer: “Make the most of it, my
fine fella—it’s the on’y one yu’ll get; the rest’ll be mine.” He growled an
order to his followers, “Take ‘em away. Sim, I hold yu responsible till I come
back.”

 
          
“Yu
needn’t to worry—they’ll be here,” the younger brother assured him.

 
          
King
nodded, went to the corral for his horse, and was soon on the way to Windy. He
was in an exultant
mood,
things were going as he had
planned—with one exception —the escape of California. Luce must be made to tell
where the miner was hiding, and then, if the move he was now about to make
proved successful, the game was won.

**

 
          
In
her own little sitting-room at “The Plaza,” Lu Lavigne listened with growing
astonishment while King Burdette outlined the situation. It was a pleasant
place, tastefully furnished, gaudily-coloured Navajo blankets and a fine
grizzly pelt concealing the bareness of walls and floor; on the centre table
stood a great jar of flowers. The daintily-dressed girl, with her trim, shining
head and wide, deep eyes, was not the least of the room’s attractions, and the
visitor, lounging easily in a chair, was fully aware of the fact. He was
speaking softly, persuasively, his bold eyes paying her the homage dear to the
heart of every woman, be she princess or peasant. A different
man
this smiling, low-voiced, handsome fellow to the
cynical, ruthless devil she knew he could be, and, strangely enough, this was
the King Burdette she feared, for, with all her independence, in this mood he
could bend her to his will.

 
          
“So
that’s how the cards
lie
, honey,” he concluded,
triumphantly. “All we gotta do is lay the hand down an’ rake in the pot.”

 
          
“And
I’m to help you to the C P ranch and—a wife?” she queried resentfully.

 
          
“Shucks,
Lu, yu got me all wrong,” King replied. “When Purdie hands over the ranch he
gets the girl back, an’ Luce can have her for all I care. Time comes I want a
mistress for the C P yu know where I’ll look, don’t yu, sweetness?”

 
          
The
caressing tone and the ardent look which accompanied the words brought a flush
to the girl’s cheeks, and convinced her that he was speaking the truth. As to
the morality of what King was attempting, that troubled her not at all; Nan
Purdie lived on a different plane and they were not even acquainted. Even in
this far-off corner of the earth a woman who ran a saloon could not hope to
meet on equal terms the daughter of a big cattleman. Moreover, in those days
too often might was right, and Burdette had been at pains to fabricate a
grievance against Chris Purdie. The only qualm she experienced was when she
thought of the C P foreman, and that she resolutely dismissed from her mind; he
had told her plainly that women could have no part in his life, and the
fascination King Burdette had for her was still strong. Because of it she
consented to do his bidding, though she told herself she was a fool to mix in
the affair.

 
          
WHEN
Sudden and Yago returned to the C P in the early afternoon the cook came from
the bunkhouse on the run.

 
          
“Hey,
Jim, the Ol’ Man’s just bin aroun’—said for yu to go see him as soon as yu
showed up,” he explained. “I’m bettin’ suthin’ has
broke
loose—he was lookin’ as mad as a singed cat.”

 
          
Turning
his horse over to Bill, the foreman strode to the ranchhouse. Tied to the rail
of the verandah was the pony Lu Lavigne rode, and on stepping into the
living-room he saw the lady herself, seated in a large chair. She greeted him
with a cool nod, and then her attention went back to Purdie, who was pacing up
and down in an obvious attempt to overcome his passion. He paused as the
foreman entered, and growled.

 
          
“Glad
yu’ve come, Jim.” He waved a hand savagely at his guest. “One o’ Burdette’s
creatures; he hadn’t the sand to come himself an’ sends a woman.”

 
          
The
girl flushed. “That’s not true,” she protested. “I have no part in King
Burdette’s business—he is merely a friend. He asked me to bring his message
because he expected to be shot on sight if he showed himself here.”

 
          
“He
was damn right too,” the rancher grimly agreed. “That’s my way o’ treatin’
vermin.”

 
          
Lu
Lavigne shrugged her slim shoulders. “It would have helped your daughter so
much, wouldn’t it?” she retorted.

 
          
The
foreman judged it was time to put in a word: “Burdette makin’ an offer,
Purdie?” he asked.

 
          
The
cattleman stopped and whirled. “Yeah, the sort yu might expect from such a
dirty road-agent,” he replied fiercely. “I’m to sign a paper that woman has
fetched, makin’ over my ranch an’ cattle to him for value received, an’ in
return, I get my girl back unharmed.”

 
          
Sudden
did not reply at once; the magnitude and audacity of the demand staggered him.

 
          
He
looked at the lady, sitting there with a set, wooden face devoid of all
expression, and his thoughts went straying.

 
          
“An’
if the paper ain’t signed?” he said at last.

 
          
“Luce
Burdette will die, and your daughter, Mister Purdie, will want to,” the
messenger replied tonelessly.

 
          
“So
Luce failed?”

 
          
“King
was watching; he let them almost escape.”

 
          
Sudden
nodded; it was a jest which would appeal to the elder Burdette, and he could
picture his unholy glee in thus playing cat and mouse with his captives. Purdie
paused again in his perambulation.

 
          
“He
can kill Luce an’ welcome—it’s on’y a Burdette less in the world an’ all to the
good,” he rapped out. “Do yu reckon he’d dare do what he threatens to my
daughter?”

 
          
“I
am quite sure of it,” the visitor said coldly.

 
          
The
old man glared at her. “An’ yu stand for that?” he asked.

 
          
“What
is it to do with me?”

 
          
“She’s
a woman—like yoreself.”

 
          
Lu
Lavigne smiled bitterly. “No, she is not a woman like
myself
,”
she retorted. “Nan Purdie is a superior being, with a college education, a
wealthy father, and far too proud to look at the keeper of a drinking-saloon.
Why should I worry what happens to her? How should it concern me if you and
King Burdette have a difference and he takes his own way of settling it?”

 
          
The
foreman was watching her, and under the steady scrutiny of those grey-blue eyes
her own dropped. Then he spoke,
quietly :

 
          
“Possibly
yu have a right to think like that, but yu—don’t,” he said. “Is there any way
yu can help us, ma’am?”

 
          
She
shook her head. “I can do nothing. King Burdette holds all the cards.”

 
          
The
cattleman’s harsh voice cut in: “Yo’re a particular friend o’ his, ain’t yu?”

 
          
The
girl’s manner was instantly hostile again. “Has that anything to do with it?”
she said icily.

 
          
“I
figure it might have,” the rancher replied. “Yo’re one o’ the cards he don’t
hold at the moment; s’pose we keep yu here?”

 
          
Mrs.
Lavigne’s laugh was genuine. “Do you really imagine King would let that
interfere with his plans?” she asked. “You should study your enemies better,
sir.” Her voice took on a touch of acid. “And what would the town think? A most
respectable citizen entertaining a dance-hall drab at his most respectable
ranch in the absence of his most respectable daughter.

 
          
Why,
Mister Purdie, even your most respectable foreman will tell you that it
wouldn’t do at all.”

 
          
The
gibing, scornful tirade ended; the speaker was watching Sudden, who appeared to
be searching for something. Noting her interested gaze, he explained.

 
          
“I’m
lookin’ for that foreman yu was mentionin’,” he said quizzically. The disarming
grin, which brought tiny crinkles at the corners of his eyes, drove the
ill-humour from the girl’s face and brought a look of contrition instead.