Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 04 - Sudden Outlawed(1934) (6 page)

 
          
He
rummaged on a shelf and produced a bottle. “This dye’ll wipe out them markin’s.
I’ll show yu yore quarters.”

 
          
He
led the way to a little hut standing rather apart from the others, built of
unbarked logs, clinked with clay.
As they approached a
cheerful but unmelodious voice within announced that it was “his night to
howl.”

 
          
“An’
he’s shorely doin’ it,” Rogue said, with a saturnine smile. “Hey, Sandy, I’ve
brung yu a bunkie.”

 
          
The
young man who emerged proved to be the second sentinel of the gorge and his
face opened in a wide grin when he saw the new-corner.

 
          
“Shucks,
it’s shorely up to me to watch out for yu,” Rogue introduced. “Yu can put him
wise an’ make him known to the boys.”

 
          
“Pleased
to,” Sandy said, shaking hands.

 
          
When
the outlaw leader had gone, with a word that he would see them at supper, Sandy
turned to the visitor.

 
          
“I’m
lucky to get yu,” he said. “Last fella I bunked with musta been bit by a mad
dawg some time, the sight o’ water gave him the fan-tods.”

 
          
Together
they inspected the quarters. Two beds—mere frames with strips of rawhide nailed
across them, a couple of up-ended boxes for seats, a cracked mirror, and a few
pegs comprised the furniture. The previous sole owner of all this magnificence
waited covertly for comment, but when the stranger spoke it was about something
entirely different.

 
          
“Yu
ain’t been with this crowd very long,” he said.

 
          
Sandy
stared at him and retorted quizzically, “Tell me somethin’ about my future,
Mister Medicine Man.”

 
          
“Shore,”
Sudden smiled. “I’m sayin’ yu won’t be with ‘em a great while, neither.”

 
          
Sandy
grinned. “Now I’ll do a bit o’ wizardin’,” he said. “Listen, yo’re a nifty
poker player, an’ yu an’ me is goin’ to he good friends.”

 
          
They
shook hands on that, and then, having brought in his saddle, blankets, and
war-bag, the visitor proceeded to shave off his moustache. Sandy watched the
operation in silence and then laughed slyly.

 
          
“I
grow one an’ yu get shut o’ yores—funny, ain’t it?” he remarked, and,
inspecting the result critically, “It certainly makes a difference. What yu
goin’ to do with the bottle?”

 
          
“Rogue
thinks my hoss would look better all black, an’ I’m inclined to agree with
him,”

 
          
Sudden
explained, his eyes twinkling.

 
          
The
removal of the tell-tale marks did not take long and when the horse had been
turned loose to graze, Sandy suggested that it was getting near grub-time. On
the way, Sudden put a question.

 
          
“Rogue
ain’t a bad of scout but difficult to figure,” was the reply. “There’s times
he’s near human an’ others when he can be a devil from hell, gotta be, I
reckon, with the team he has to handle; there ain’t a tougher crowd between
Kansas an’ the Rio Grande.”

 
          
Sudden’s
own observations during the meal supported this description. Sandy alone seemed
to be of a different type; somehow he did not “belong.” Rogue’s remark anent a
“man he could trust” no longer astonished him.

 
          
They
fed at a long table in the largest building, which served as a general
living-room for the community. Rogue sat at one end, and at the other was a man
who immediately attracted the attention of the newcomer. In the thirties, of
medium height, slim and supple, he had the face of a demon. The acquiline nose,
high cheekbones, cruel mouth and lank, black hair proclaimed a mixed origin,
despite his yellowish-white skin, and Sudden was not surprised to hear him
addressed as “Navajo.” His dark eyes, flashing from beneath lowered lids, and
sinuous movements, were reptilian. He was, Sandy whispered, a sort of second in
command of the band.

 
          
Rogue’s
presentation was perfunctory:

 
          
“Boys,
this is Jim,” he said. “He’s stayin’ with us a while.”

 
          
Nods
and a muttered “Howdy” here and there came in response, and the men went on
with the business of filling their bellies. The food was good and plentiful.
Not until their voracious appetites were appeased and pipes or cigarettes
lighted did the company take much notice of the guest. Then he came in for a
good deal of furtive scrutiny.

 
          
Presently,
when most of the men were playing or watching a card game, he slipped away, and
from a bench outside, sat gazing over the valley. It was a restful sight: the
green expanse, with its verdure-ringed pool and grazing beasts, the rock-rimmed
walls where the gathering shadows heralded the approaching night, and to the
west, a lingering golden glory in the sky.

 
          
“Looks
peaceful, don’t it?” Sandy said, squatting beside his new chum.

 
          
“Shore
does.”

 
          
Sandy
did not pursue the subject. He sensed the bitterness n the tone, guessed what
the speaker might be thinking, but knew he must not ask. Though they felt a
mutual attraction, these two, they had exchanged no confidences.

 
          
ROGUE
was absent from the breakfast table on the following morning, but there was a
new arrival in the person of the man Sudden had seen in San Antonio. He grinned
cheerfully at the cowboy and, when the meal was over, beckoned him outside.

 
          
“So
yu changed yore mind?” was how he opened the conversation.

 
          
“Yu
might call it that,” was the sardonic reply.

 
          
“Aimin’
to throw in with Rogue?”

 
          
Sudden
did not reply at once. Despite the man’s apparent friendliness, he did not like
him; there was a lurking malignancy which suggested that he enjoyed the
misfortunes of others.

 
          
“I
ain’t decided,”
he
said, adding savagely, “What else
is there for me to do?”

 
          
“Come
a-swimmin’—that’s what.”

 
          
It
was Sandy who had answered the question, and he smiled ‘as he waved a hand to
the pool, glittering in the bright sunshine like a jewel in a green setting.
Sligh—so the outlaw was called—shrugged disdainful shoulders.

 
          
“Yu
did oughta remember them critters has to drink that water,” he said.

 
          
“Which
is why yu don’t go in, huh?” Sandy retorted.

 
          
The
water looked cool and inviting and Sandy hurriedly divested himself of his
clothing.

 
          
Sudden
followed his example but more leisurely. He watched the boy step lightly
towards a jutting bit of bank which afforded a good place for a plunge and then
snatched a gun from the belt he had just discarded and fired. Sandy whirled
instantly.

 
          
“What
the hell … ?” he cried, and then, as he saw the bullet-shattered fiat venomous
head and greenish-grey body thrashing about in the long grass only a yard from
where he stood, his face paled. “A cotton-mouth!” he gasped. (The moccasin
snake, when angry, appears to have its jaws stuffed with cotton-wool.) “Jim,
I’m not forgettin’ this—ever.”

 
          
“Shucks,”
was the reply. “Saw him just in time.”

 
          
“Yu
shore did—‘nother step an’ I’d ‘a’ trod on him,” Sandy agreed, with a shiver.

 
          
A
careful search of the bank revealed no more reptiles and they had their swim,
but much of the enjoyment had gone. As they lay on the warm turf drying
themselves
in the sun, Sudden asked a question.

 
          
“There’s
a way out at the other end o’ the valley,” Sandy said. “Goin’ ridin’?”

 
          
“Thought
I’d look around; don’t seem to be much to do.”

 
          
“We’ll
be busy tomorrow—the boys’ll fetch in a bunch o’ cattle—there’s plenty
mavericks in the brush. I’d go with yu but I gotta relieve Ropey, durn it.”

 
          
Dried
and dressed again they made their way to the bunkhouse, which they found empty,
save for the cook.

 
          
Having
fed, they got their horses and separated, Sandy turning east to set free a man
who was eagerly awaiting him, and
Sudden
heading in
the opposite direction.

 
          
The
exit was easily found, a tunnel-like crack in the rim-rock just wide enough to
permit the passage of a mounted man. There was little light, for the cliff
overhead appeared to be unbroken and the far end of the opening was masked by a
mass of dense scrub. The few tracks showed that this means of entering or leaving
the valley was seldom used.

 
          
“Takin’
a herd o’ cattle through would be apt to keep a fella’s tongue busy,” the
cowboy ruminated. “She’d be a useful bolt-hole though.”

 
          
Sandy
had already told him that the nearest settlement on this side of the valley was
some thirty miles distant, and that the only habitation of importance was the S
E ranch.

 
          
“Got
a big range, has Sam Eden,” the boy had said. “They say he owns a lot o’ the
land too. Dessay our valley belongs to him, but up to now he ain’t served
no
writ of ejectment.”

 
          
It
was a wild bit of country into which Sudden emerged, a jumble of scrub-choked
gullies, flat-topped mesas, ridges of bare rock, and forested slopes hemming in
grass-covered savannahs. Every now and then, a fierce-eyed steer would break
from a thicket, glare at the rider, and crash back into the brush. Some of
these bore the S E brand but more were unmarked.

 
          
“Sandy
was right,” Sudden reflected. “Either Eden’s outfit is damn careless or he
ain’t had a proper roundup in years. He can’t holler if someone takes care o’
them mavericks.”

 
          
A
little later, as he was riding the rim of a shallow ravine, he heard a startled
cry, followed by the beat of galloping hooves. It was a woman’s voice and he
judged it came from just ahead. A whispered word quickened the speed of the big
black and rounding a bend, the rider swore in angry surprise:

 
          
“Damnation!”

 
          
Along
the bottom of the ravine, and only a few hundred yards away, a girl was
desperately spurring her pony. A short distance behind, two mounted Indians
were racing to overtake her. Sudden pulled up, swung his horse round, headed it
for the inclined wall of the gully, and leaned back in the saddle. Nigger knew
what was required; bunching his feet together he slithered down the slope, and
took up the chase. The long leaping stride of the black soon began to overhaul
the poorer animals in front, but Sudden saw he had no time to waste; already
the foremost Indian had grabbed the bridle of the girl’s pony and was
endeavouring to drag her from the saddle.

 
          
She
was resisting, striking at the savage with the butt of her quirt, and fearing
that the fellow would do her an injury, he uttered a shout. Instantly the
second redskin whirled, dropped his lance, his right hand flashing to the
quiver behind his shoulder, and
Sudden
felt a searing
pain at the side of his neck. With incredible speed, the Indian notched a
second arrow but ere he could despatch it the white man’s revolver roared and
the redskin pitched to the ground. His companion, seeing what had happened,
abandoned the girl, flogged his pony savagely up the steep bank of the
ravine—which it climbed like a cat —and, with a whoop of defiance, vanished
over the edge. The cowboy followed, but by the time he reached the top the
fugitive was half a mile distant on an open plain. When Sudden returned the girl
rode to meet him, a grateful smile on her firm lips.