Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 09 - Sudden Makes War(1942) (18 page)

 
          
In
the meantime the custodian of the baggage-car was telling the same story with
less success. Bundy, who had allotted to himself the task of securing the real
reason for the robbery, was not easily convinced. He, too, wanted a description
of the unknown holdups, and got no more than his confederate. Then he searched
every inch of the van, even tapping the boards with the butt of his gun.

 
          
“What’s
in them?” he growled, pointing to the sacks. “Meal, I s’pose,” the man replied.

 
          
“Open
an’ tip it out,” Bundy ordered, and when the fellow hesitated, jammed a
six-shooter into his ribs.

 
          
This
produced immediate action, the sacks were untied and up-ended, but no wooden
box was forthcoming.

 
          
“Like
I said, she ain’t there,” the train-man unwisely remarked.

 
          
“Can’t
I see?
you
— yella dawg’s pup. Go an’ look some more,
blast you,” Bundy snarled.

 
          
With
a savage swing he drove a fist behind the man’s ear, flinging him, face
downwards and well-nigh senseless, into the pile of flour, and went out. Flint
was waiting for him, and a call brought Garstone. A few words revealed the
position,
and the big man’s face—could they have seen
it—might have caused trouble; it expressed only incredulity and rage.

 
          
“Are
you asking me to believe that?” he cried involuntarily.

 
          
“Please
yoreself,” Bundy snapped. “Go search the train an’ question those lunkheads, if
you want.”

 
          
“But
it’s impossible—only we three knew, unless …”

 
          
“Unless
what?”

 
          
“That
other fellow, who was to have a thousand, got a better offer and sold
us
.”

 
          
“Well,
he didn’t, an’ he’s losin’ his too,” the foreman retorted. “
He
dasn’t play tricks on me—I know too much about him. Somebody’s got in ahead of
us, either by accident, or because they heard somethin’. I’m for home; no good
hangin’ about here.”

 
          
Three very disgruntled would-be train-robbers, each deeply
suspicious of the others, climbed into their saddles and disappeared in the
shadowy recesses of the pines.
Once more the train went on its eventful
way.

 
          
About
the same time the rider of a black horse got down outside the bank in Sandy
Bend, took from behind his saddle a box which seemed to be weighty and a small
bag. Stepping inside, he asked to see the manager.

 
          
“What
name shall I say?” the clerk enquired.

 
          
“Please
yoreself, he won’t know it anyway,” the stranger smiled. “Just say it’s real
important.”

 
          
After
a short wait he was ushered into the private office. The manager, middle-aged,
with an astute face and keen eyes, pointed to a chair.

 
          
“Have
a seat, Mister —. I failed to catch your name.”

 
          
“That
ain’t surprisin’—I didn’t give it,” Sudden smiled. “My business is on’y to hand
over somethin’ I reckon belongs to yu.”

 
          
He
placed the box on the desk, and the banker’s eyebrows rose. “It certainly
does,” he replied. “But you are not working for the railway?”

 
          
“I
am, an’ I ain’t,” the puncher said. “An’, anyway, the train don’t ‘pear to ‘a’
come in yet. Yu came mighty close to losin’ them—ca’tridges.”

 
          
“I
don’t understand.”

 
          
“Well,
last night, me an’ a couple o’ friends chanced to learn of a plan to hold up
the train this mornin’—the fellas was short o’ feed for their guns, I expect.”
The story-teller’s eyes were alight with mirth. “We hadn’t much time, an’ the
on’y wagon-trail out we could hit on was to stage a stick-up ourselves—sorta
forestall ‘em, as it were—an’ fetch the plunder to yu.”

 
          
The
manager stared. “That was a clever but very daring expedient,” he said.

 
          
“Oh,
I dunno, the odds are allus in favour o’ the holdups,” Sudden replied. “Yu see,
they have the advantage o’ springin’ a surprise, an’ the fellas on the train
are covered afore they know it.”

 
          
“You
talk like an expert.”

 
          
“I’ve
studied the subject,” the puncher grinned. “Fella can’t tell what he may come
to.”

 
          
“Your
knowledge seems to have served you well on this occasion. You had no trouble?”

 
          
“It
was like money from
the of
folks at home,” the puncher
said easily. “There’s one thing, we had to make it look right an’ clean the
passengers too. I told ‘em to call here for their property—it’s all in the
small sack. Mebbe yu’ll ‘tend to that?”

 
          
“Most
willingly,” the manager replied, and laughed. “So the other gang must have held
up a stripped train? The joke was certainly on them. Now, see here, my friend,
you and your companions have rendered the bank and the railway a great service,
and I wish—”

 
          
“It
don’t
need speakin’ of,” Sudden interrupted. “We put
this over for personal reasons, an’ that’s all there is to it.”

 
          
The
banker was studying him keenly. “I’m perfectly certain I’ve seen you before,
and recently,” he observed.

 
          
“No,
seh, yu ain’t seen me afore, nor even now,” the visitor replied meaningly.

 
          
“Well,
it shall be as you say, but if at any time I can help you, count on me.”

 
          
“I’m
thankin’ yu,” Sudden said, gripping the hand extended. At the door he turned.

 
          
“Mebbe
I oughta tell yu that the record o’ the numbers o’ them ca’tridges will be
found—missin’.”

 
          
He
was gone before the astounded manager could say another word. An examination of
the box revealed the expected gold and notes; in the bag were jewellery, bills,
and small change.

 
          
The
banker scratched his head; in all his experience of the West, he had never
heard of a prank like this.

 
          
The
last drop in Bundy’s cup of bitterness was added when he met his employer in
the afternoon.

 
          
“I
sent Rattray in to the Bend with the wagon to collect some flour I ordered from
Washout,” Trenton said. “It was to be on the ten-fifteen, and he should be back
by this. Seen anythin’ of it?”

 
          
The
foreman said he had not, which, as he now knew, was a lie; not only had he seen
it, scattered all over the dirty floor of a baggage-car, but he had sent a man
squattering into the middle of it. The reminder of the chance they had missed
seared like a hot iron, and when he was alone he told the world exactly what he
thought of it in a flood of abuse which only ceased when a swift suspicion came
and gave the Recording Angel an opportunity of re-charging his fountain pen.

 
          
Was
it by accident that the Wagon-wheel flour was on that particular train? Had
Trenton learned of their plan and made his own move to checkmate it? Bundy
swore he would find out, and he finished with a blistering promise of
vengeance.

 
          
The
news of the attacks on the train travelled fast, and soon reached Rainbow; the
passengers had chattered freely of their unusual experience. Speculation as to
the real reason for the quixotic behaviour of the first gang of bandits, and
witticisms at the expense of the second, were on the lips of everyone. It
therefore resulted that the Wagon-wheel foreman and his confederates had salt
unwittingly rubbed into their wounds at frequent intervals. The identity of the
actors in the comedy was still unsuspected, for the banker and his clerk both
described the person who had returned the stolen property as just an ordinary
cowboy. This did not satisfy Bundy, and two days after the event he made the
journey to the Bend in the hope of discovering something.

 
          
During
a round of the saloons, he heard himself ridiculed and had to agree that he was
a blundering fool so often, as to make him wish he had not come, especially as
he had learned nothing. But, at last, when on the point of giving up, and in a
drinking hovel of the lowest type, he was rewarded. The talk was on the one
topic, and for about the tenth time in various places he had said:

 
          
“Beats
me how that fella could ride into a town like this, in broad daylight, an’ git
away unnoticed. Ain’t all blind in the Bend, are you?”

 
          
“Not
that early in the day,” laughed a bystander.

 
          
“An’
it warn’t quite like that neither,” chirped a dried-up old fellow. “I seen his
hoss—leastways, I reckon it was his’n the time fits—standin’ outside the bank.”

 
          
Bundy
tried to appear indifferent. “Did ye now? What kind of a hoss was it?”

 
          
“Big
rangy black, with a white blaze on the face; mustang breed, I’d say; a fine
critter,” the old man replied.
“Worth a fortun’ to a
road-agent.”

 
          
The
foreman needed no more; there could be only one such horse in
all the
district. He came out of the dive afire with a fury
which increased with every mile of the long ride home. So it was Green and two
of the Circle Dot outfit who had cheated him—for so he regarded it. Had they
kept the money it would have hurt less, but to be outplayed and made an object
of derision by men he hated, cut him to the bone. Once, dismounting, he stood
for a few seconds in a half-crouch, then snatched out his gun and sent the six
shots in rapid succession at a thin sapling a dozen yards distant. Stepping to
the tree, he noted that every bullet had chipped the bark at the same height.
Reloading the weapon, he got back into the saddle, his teeth bared in a
Satanic
grin of satisfaction.

 
          
“I’m
as good as I ever was,” he muttered. “Look to yoreself. Mister blasted Green.”

 
          
Arrived
at the ranch, he went in search of Garstone, but failed to find him. The
Easterner had, in fact, ridden into Rainbow with Miss Trenton. On reaching the
place, however, they had separated for the time and so she was alone when Dan
almost bumped into her as he came out of the store. He raised his hat and would
have gone on, but she stopped and smiled.

 
          
“Why
do you always try to avoid me?” she asked.

 
          
Dan
had little experience of the so-called fair sex, or he would have recognized
the age-old device of putting an opponent in the wrong, so the accusation
staggered him. But he was a fighter, and he had already decided that this slim,
prepossessing girl could only be handled with the gloves off.

 
          
“I
guess I must be hopin’ you’d run after me,” he smiled impudently.

 
          
The
unlooked-for reply discomposed her, and all she could say was, “Not if you were
the only man in the world.”

 
          
The
smile broadened into a grin. “You’d have to travel some then,” he said. “Think
o’ the competition. Gee! I’d shore have to live in the tall timber.”

 
          
Despite
her irritation, the absurd picture he conjured up made her laugh. The parcel he
was carrying provided a change of subject; the shape showed that it could only
be a rifle.