Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 10 - Sudden Plays a Hand(1950) (16 page)

 
          
“You
shore look it.
Bad for you, or for me?’

 
          
“For
both of us—we’ve lost the S P.’

 
          
Cullin’s
frown deepened. “Which means you’ve made a mess of things, I s’pose.
How come?’

 
          
The
missing heir has turned up.’

 
          
“Well,
with yore knowledge of how to evade the Law you oughta be able to upset the
claim.’

 
          
Seale
shook his head. “It’s as straight as a string—they have the proofs. I haven’t
said so—yet, but there isn’t a doubt.’ “Who are they?’

 
          
The claimant and the chap who found her—a cowpuncher from the
Mexican Border.’

 
          
“Found
her?’ Cullin repeated. “You told me the Pavitt woman had cashed, an’ that it
was her son you were lookin’ for. You better spill the beans.’

 
          
The
lawyer was ready enough; he knew that if there should be a means of evasion,
the cattleman, with his acute, unscrupulous brain would find it. Cullin,
poker-faced, listened without comment until he finished.

 
          
You
oughta
done
as I suggested—searched her out yoreself,’
he said. “Then we could’ve arranged that no claim would be made. What you gotta
do now is make a friend o’ the gal, put her in possession as soon as maybe,
an’—not pointedly, slam the S P; it’s been neglected, badly managed, the profit
small, an’ the outlook for the cattle trade generally—gloomy. Get her to let
you sell an’ invest the coin, leavin’ her free to have a good time an’ no
anxiety. Play yore part right an’ she’ll fall for it, an’ my offer to you still
stands. By the way, where is that letter?’

 
          
“Burned—it
was dangerous,’ the lawyer lied. “As for your plan, it’s good—you still have
the gift—but it will fail; the girl won’t lack advisers; I forgot to mention
that at present she’s living in Shadow Valley.’

 
          
Cullin
sprang from his seat. “So it’s that girl?’ he cried. “How’n hell did
she
get there, an’ what’s she doin’?’

 
          
“She
skedaddled from her last job, and Drait found her adrift in the wilds,’ Seale
explained, adding with a sneer, “
As
to what she’s
doing, it doesn’t need two guesses.’

 
          
He
got a black look. “I wouldn’t repeat that, Seale,’ came the warning. “I’ve seen
her, an’ she’s not that sort.’

 
          
This
left the man of law speechless; Cullin defending a woman’s character was
something he never dreamed of witnessing. He had expected an eruption, and here
was the human volcano seated again, and wearing a slow smile of satisfaction.
Indeed, the rancher had reason. The luck was breaking for him; the woman he
wanted, the ranch for which he had schemed, and the man he hated, seemed to be
almost within his grasp. He found himself wondering about the girl, for
although he had closed Seale’s evil mouth, it had been no tribute to her, but
merely an automatic gesture—he would not permit a slur on one he intended to
make his own. Presently he spoke again:

 
          
“Forget
all I’ve said, Luke, except puttin’ Miss Darrell in possession as quickly as
possible. An’ she’s to have a straight deal. You can leave the rest to me; I’ll
see you don’t lose by it.’

 
          
Fortified
by a stiff dose of whisky, the lawyer set out for Midway, where he would stay
the night and catch the coach in the morning. It had been a tiring day, both
physically and mentally, and though cheered somewhat by the reflection that all
was not yet lost, he was far from sanguine. Worry his wits as he might, utter
failure resulted from his efforts to fathom Cullin’s reaction to the news, but
obviously the rancher had a plan, and the Weasel promised himself that he would
discover and profit by it. The missing letter troubled him; he had only learned
of the loss some days after it had been taken. The cowboy’s farewell remark he
put down as a shot in the dark, for he had completely forgotten the temporary
absence of his keys.

 
          
Meanwhile,
the man he had left was striding up and down his room, busily building a
pleasing picture. Ownership of the Big C and the S P would make him the
wealthiest cattleman for many miles round, and bring the corresponding power.
Bardoe would have to be abolished, and Vasco eventually bought or squeezed out.
Shadow Valley could be made use of.

 
          
“Might
put up a fine house there, if she’s keen on the spot,’ he muttered. His
thoughts went to this woman he had seen but once and desired so desperately. “Beau
said she don’t care
none
for the fella, so she won’t
miss him.’ For Nicholas Drait was condemned; he was in the way.

 
          
**

 
          
Despite
the fact that the day was young, Jack Gilman lay supine in the shade of the
veranda, stretched out in a comfortable chair, feet on the railing, eyes closed
and mouth open. He was awakened by a sharp command:

 
          
“Stick
‘em
up !’

 
          
He
came alive instantly, started to obey, and then paused when he saw no weapon
threatened him; the man who had given the order was merely regarding him with
contemptuous amusement.

 
          
“You’d
be easy, wouldn’t you?’ Cullin said, for he it was. “One o’ these days
somebody’ll take the ranch away from you.’ “Not while I got my health,’ Gilman
grinned. “I had a hard day yestiddy.’

 
          
Cullin
got down and stood surveying the range. It pleased him, but the neglected
condition of the buildings had the opposite effect. He reached out a cigar,
passed one to the foreman, and took a seat.

 
          
“Ol’
Sam certainly had an eye for a location,’ he remarked. “Well, he was here
first, an’ it’s on’y to be expected he’d get the best. You’ll be sorry to leave
it.’

 
          
“Leave
it—me?’ Gilman ejaculated. “What’s yore meanin’?’

 
          
Cullin
shrugged. “
you
don’t appear to have heard the news. O’
course, it ain’t known but to a few yet.’

 
          
“Did
you come to tell me?’

 
          
“No,
just a neighbourly call—I allus had a fancy for this place,’ the rancher
replied. “I certainly thought Seale would have sent you word.’

 
          
“Word
of what?’ the foreman snapped. “If that dirty little runt is tryin’ to put
anythin’ over on me….’

 
          
The
suspense was putting an edge on his temper as the visitor intended. He now
struck—hard: “There’s no question o’ that. The lawful owner o’ the S P has
turned up in the person o’ Sam Pavitt’s gran’daughter; “Frankie” wasn’t a boy
after all.’

 
          
He
saw the man flinch as from a physical blow, and it gratified his delight in
giving pain. But Gilman soon recovered. “A girl, huh?’ he said. “That don’t
mean I gotta go. She’ll need someone to manage things, I guess, knowin’ nothin’
about cattle.’

 
          
“I’m
afraid you’ll have no guess again,’ Cullin said. “You see, the heiress happens
to be the girl I told you
was
residing with Drait. If
she wants help….’

 
          
This
second blow shook the foreman to his very foundations. “That damned nester,’ he
exploded, after a stunned silence. “There’s on’y one o’ that name around here,
thank God,’ the other replied viciously. “An’ he’s one too many. By the way, I
hear the stock he has in the valley came from the S P. What about it?’

 
          
“If
they did, he stole ‘em,’ Gilman retorted instantly.

 
          
“A
hundred head, all without brands?’
This incredulously.
“Ain’t yore
riders
doin’ anythin’ for their pay?’

 
          
The
foreman lifted his shoulders.
“Shouldn’t wonder if there’s
more.
I’m short-handed—to keep down expenses—an’ with the future o’ the
ranch in the air, I reckon none of us feels like overworkin’—you wouldn’t
yoreself.’

 
          
“Possibly,
but you’ll have some explainin’ to do; Drait’s no tenderfoot.’

 
          
“Me
too; mebbe he’ll have some to do first.’

 
          
“O’
course, if you could prove he helped hisself to those cows,’ Cullin said
softly.

 
          
The
eyes of the two men met, and the foreman knew that his story was not accepted;
he also read the meaning behind Cullin’s last remark.

 
          
“Have
to consider if somethin’ can’t be done ‘bout that,’ he said. “If not, there’s
other ways.’

 
          
The
rancher rose. “It is, o’ course, entirely yore affair, but we shall miss you,
Gilman.’

 
          
The
foreman’s sullen gaze watched him cross the open and disappear among the trees.
“Yeah, my affair,’ he sneered. “You want him got rid of, an’ I’m to do it for
you. Mebbe I will, because it suits my hand too, but if I have to start
killin’, look to yoreself, Cullin, you bastard.’

 
          
Though
he failed no divine the malignity he had left behind, the Big C man knew he had
not earned any gratitude. Nevertheless, he was satisfied with the morning’s
work. It was perfectly plain to him that Gilman had been robbing the S P, and
pretty certain that Drait already knew, or would soon discover the fact. The
removal of the nester therefore became imperative if the foreman was to retain
his post, or even his ill-gotten gains. But Cullin was not the type to be
content with only one chance in a lottery, and his mind was casting about for a
second. It did not take long to decide; Bardoe’s animosity towards Drait almost
equalled his own.

 
          
From
where he was, the route to the 8 B skirted Shadow Valley, and he was only a
short distance from the entrance when he saw a rider ahead, a slight figure,
dressed in grey, which he instantly recognised. Smothering a whoop of
exultation, he loped after and soon overtook her. Hat in hand, he ranged
alongside.

 
          
“This
is certainly my lucky day,’ he smiled. “Didn’t dream I’d have the pleasure o’
seein’ you again so soon. Do you often ride this way?’

 
          
She
shook her head. “I am venturing outside the valley for the first time.’

 
          
“I
hope it won’t be the last.’

 
          
For
some moments they paced in silence. Thrilled by the nearness of her, the man
was content to look, noting the easy grace with which she rode, the delicate
colour under the faint tan of her cheeks, the curling tendrils of hair straying
from beneath her hat-brim. Mary’s eyes, though less searching, had not been
entirely idle. Though he wore the garb of the country, she had seen that it was
of superior quality, the shirt and neckerchief of silk, and his face
newly-shaven. She would have described him as well-dressed, without the
flashiness of Beau Lamond. Presently he laughed.

 
          
“Why,
I have forgotten to congratulate you.’ He saw she did not comprehend.
“Upon yore inheritance.’
“Oh, that,’ she replied, with a
tiny frown. “Nothing is settled yet, and I’m sorry it is being talked about.’

 
          
“It
isn’t. Seale—who is also my lawyer—visited me last evening on business. He
seemed very pleased about somethin’ an’ eventually admitted, in confidence,
that it was because he is now in a position to clear up the Pavitt estate,
havin’ discovered the owner.’

 
          
“I
would be much more grateful if he had found me three months ago,’ the girl
said, and there was an undercurrent in her tone which he could not guess at.

 
          
“I
think you will have no more reason to complain on that score,’ he assured her. “Seale
is under obligation to me, an’ I’ve made it plain that any unnecessary delay in
your case will be an unfriendly act to
myself
.’