Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 10 - Sudden Plays a Hand(1950) (27 page)

 
          
“Jim,
yo’re on’y a passable liar an’ Yorky ain’t much better,’ he said. “Don’t think
I ain’t grateful, but this has gotta stop; I’m too old for dry-nursin’.’

 
          
“Nick,
I wasn’t expectin’ a showdown, but I did hope to get a line on what was afoot,’
Sudden said soberly. “He rushed me.’ “Did you know this Finger-shy gent?’

 
          
“On’y
by repute; he was just a professional killer an’ crooked at that, but he was
over-confident an’ showed his hand too plain,’ Sudden said with a sinister
smile. “What about grub? I’m as empty as the sheriff’s head.’

 
          
There
was no demonstration when they entered the bunkhouse, nor any reference to the
day’s happening; with innate delicacy, the cowboys knew that taking life, even
justifiably, was not a thing a man would want to talk about. Smoky just grinned
and said:

 
          
“Glad
yo’re back for supper, Jim. Long has threatened somethin’ special tonight.’

 
          
“An’
“threatened” is the right word,’ Shorty supplemented. “When Long passes in his
checks, someone else will oe the worst cook in the world.’

 
          
Which
specimen of brotherly love restored the normal atmosphere and put everyone at
ease.

 
          
Cullin
called the S P the following morning, and finding that Mary knew nothing of the
gunfight, gave her the details, dwelling especially on Lukor’s error.

 
          
“He
intended to kill Mister Drait?’ she cried. “
But why, if they
were strangers?’

 
          
“If,’ the rancher shrugged. “
I’m told that the fella talked
o’ bein’ in Midway to avenge a sister’s honour, but meobe it was on’y an
excuse; his kind has to have one.’

 
          
He
saw her face darken; however little a wife may care for her husband, the advent
of another woman is rarely welcome. But she did not speak.

 
          
“That
cowboy, Green, is a mighty good watch-dog,’ Cullin continued. “He’s done a lot
for Nick.’

 
          
“I,
also, am in his debt,’ she reminded quietly.

 
          
“Same
here,’ he smiled. “For what he has done for you; I wish it had been my luck.’

 
          
“But
you have helped, and I am grateful.’

 
          
“On’y
that? Well, I mustn’t be impatient, but I want you to like me very much—Mary.’

 
          
She
flushed—it was the first time he had used her front name —but she affected not
to notice. He left soon after, to her relief. Staring, almost with unseeing
eyes, at the great panorama before her, she tried to analyse her feeling for
Cullin. Did she really like him, or was it the fascination a forceful man who
knew the world must have for a young, inexperienced girl? She could not decide.
Admiring him, enjoying his company, at the back of her mind was an instinctive
warning, vague but insistent. She shook her head and was glad to see Yorky
rocketing towards her. The boy was bursting with excitement; Smoky had brought
him a note from Jim, and of course, spilled the whole story.

 
          
“You
heard ‘bout
th
’ ruckus in town, ma’am?’ he blurted
out, as he flung himself from the saddle.

 
          
“Yes,’
she said. “Mister Cullin told me.’

 
          
“Cullin?
Why he—was here then?’ She did not notice the hesitation, due to the warning
Smoky had delivered.

 
          
“Naturally,’
she said, and very gravely. “It is a terrible affair; I am glad Mister Green
escaped injury.’

 
          
“It’ll
take a damned good man to git Jim, by fair means,’ Yorky replied pridefully.

 
          
“If
he’d done it, I’d ‘a’ got him—somehow.’

 
          
The
hardening of the youthful face, firmed lips, and slitted vengeful eyes told
that this was no vain brag. Then, ashamed of the emotion he had displayed, came
the excuse, “Jim’s been awful good to me, ma’am.’

 
          
“I
understand,’ she replied gently. “He’s been awful good to me also. Someday, I
hope he’ll let me tell him so.’

 
          
“He’d
ruther you didn’t,’ the boy said bluntly. “Sooner be cussed than thanked, durn
him.’

 
          
“I’m
afraid that’s true,’ she smiled. “Yorky, why did that wretched man want to kill
Mister Drait? Was it because of some old score?’

 
          
“Guess
not. If Lukor had knowed the Boss, he’d never ‘a’ mistaken Jim for him.’

 
          
“Why,
of course,’ she cried, and wondered at the sudden warm glow in her breast.

 
          
“He
was hired for the job,’ the boy went on. “An’ got just what he deserved. As for
the white-livered houn’ who employed him….’

 
          
“It
is hard to believe such monsters exist,’ she said. “Do you think it might be
Bardoe? They fought before.’

 
          
“Mebbe,
but Smoky sez Bull would ‘a’ done the deed hisself an’ saved his dollars.’

 
          
“I’m
afraid of that man,’ she confessed.

 
          
“You
don’t have to be, ma’am,’ he told her. “
We’re all alookin’
after you.’

 
          
“I
know it,’ she smiled. “I mustn’t be foolish.’

 
          
When
she had gone, Yorky relieved his feelings with a mild oath. Something was
troubling her.

 
          
“Why
didn’t Nick come along here with th’ outfit an’ take hold for her?’ he asked
the world. “Stuck on showin’ Midway he could hang on to Shadow Valley, I
s’pose.’

 
          
Which was only part of the truth, and by no means the most
important.

 
          
The
extinction of a gunman as a topic of interest lasted less than two weeks, and
the town resumed the uneven tenor of its way. By this time, Cullin’s impatience
reached its limit. He had paid several visits to the S P, only to realise that
he was making no progress. The girl was friendly, but that was all, and he
began to suspect more interest in Draft than she would admit; the thought made
him furious. The removal of the nester was not enough; he must be discredited
in her eyes. His plans were taking shape, and they carried him to the 8 B. As
he rode up, two men came out, Gilman and Lamond.

 
          
“I
heard you’d skipped,’ he said. “Ridin’ for Bull?’

 
          
“Gotta
do somethin’ for our chuck,’ was how Beau described it. His head was still
bandaged.

 
          
“A
change for you,’ Cullin replied. His humour generally contained a sting. “You
come near not needin’ any, I understand.’ At that moment Pardoe came out; he
had heard the voices. “What’s the trouble?’ he asked.

 
          
The
Big C man saw that he had overplayed his hand. “Aw, forget it. Mebbe I ribbed
‘em too hard; I was on’y joshin’.’ It was an apology, of a kind, but two pairs
of baleful eyes followed him as he disappeared into the house. His host pointed
to a chair, and said, “
Ain’t
you got more sense than
to quarrel with men who might yet be useful?’

 
          
“They’ve
bungled everythin’ so far.’

 
          
“You
ain’t bin such a howlin’ success. Drait’s still in the Valley, firmer rooted
than ever, an’ with the town lookin’ sideways at Camort….’

 
          
‘Yo’re
tellin’ me news,’ Cullin said sarcastically.

 
          
“You
act like you didn’t know it,’ Bull returned, in the same vein. “What do you
want now, anyway?’

 
          
Cullin
hesitated, purposely, and then, “I did have a proposition, but if yo’re buryin’
the hatchet with Drait, I’ll be off.’ “Please yoreself,’ Bull shrugged. “But
any hatchet I bury’ll be in the beggar’s skull.’

 
          
“He’s
had the devil’s own luck.’

 
          
“An’
friends he can trust. That’s where you fall down, you’ve on’y got people you
pay, an’ don’t trust. What was Lukor’s price?’

 
          
“How
should I know?’

 
          
“Like
I said,’ Bardoe sniggered. “Shall we mention a thousand bucks?’ The rancher’s
slight start of surprise told the guess was a near one. “It would ‘a’ bin worth
it, if—but there’s allus an “if,” Greg, ain’t there?’

 
          
The
visitor lit a cigar and rolled another across the table. Inwardly boiling, he
forced himself to speak calmly. “S’pose you stop yappin’ about what doesn’t
concern you an’ listen to somethin’ that may.’

 
          
“Shoot.’
Bull leaned back in his chair and expelled a screen of smoke, behind which he
grinned in real enjoyment.

 
          
“I
want some cattle lifted, an’ it’s goin’ to be worth more than a thousand to
you,’ Cullin began. “It’s the S P. Rustle a few, at short intervals, an’ don’t
monkey with the brand. Keep ‘em hidden some place, an’ I’ll pay ten a head when
I take over.’

 
          
Bardoe
pondered. “I don’t savvy the game.’

 
          
“It
ain’t necessary you should.’

 
          
“That’s
what you think,’ the other said curtly. “Find a bigger fool.’

 
          
Cullin
swallowed the word “Impossible’ and managed to say quietly, “I’m aimin’ to
bleed the S P white, give the owner a lesson, an’ compel her to sell.’

 
          
“You
bin after that range a good while. Too bad that cowboy routin’ out the gal. Why
don’t you marry her?’

 
          
“That’s
another reason for carryin’ out my plan; poverty is a fine reducer o’ pride.
Get on with it, Bull, an’ when we’re good an’
ready,
we’ll take another whirl at that cussed nester.’

 
          
“It’s
a bet,’ Bardoe said. “Sturm was one o’ yore men, huh?’

 
          
“Yeah,
you’ll find the beasts bunched up—preparations for a roundup, likely. The
outfit is bone-lazy ‘cept one—Green’s sidekick, Yorky; he’s awake.’

 
          
“That
damned young cub?’ Bull exploded. “I’ve a score to settle with him. Awright,
Greg; you’ve hired a man.’

 
          
When
the visitor had departed, Bardoe indulged in a burst of laughter. “Bleedin’ is
a game two can play at, Mister Clever Cullin, but I’m with you part o’ the way.
Then mebbe it’ll be you to git the lesson.’

 
          
The
rustler’s face was never pleasing; now it was hideous—a jeering mask of hatred.

 
          
The
sun, slowly climbing into the blue vault above, was warming the keen,
sage-scented air, which was yet cool enough to make movement pleasurable. Away
on the horizon the mountains were beginning to unwind their swathed wrappings
of mist. It was a grand sight, but Drait’s eyes were more often—unknown to
her—on the girl by his side, noting the upright poise of her lissome body, the
curve of her cheek, or the errant curl with which the light breeze was playing.

 
          
Mary
too, was less attentive to the view. She was thinking of a ride with
Cullin
two days earlier. The contrast was marked. But she
had to admit that he was more restful than the impetuous admirer from the Big
C.