Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 10 - Sudden Plays a Hand(1950) (31 page)

 
          
Camort
scowled; he did not like the arrangement, but was powerless to prevent it.
Drait unbuckled his belt and tossed it to his foreman.

 
          
“Take
care o’ that, an’ hold the Valley against all comers,’ he said.

 
          
“Shore
will
,’ Quilt said dourly. ‘Yo’re playin’ the hand,
Nick; me, I’d sooner argued with ‘em.’

 
          
With
a gloomy face, he saw them depart, Drait and the puncher riding together, the
posse—split into two groups—in front and behind, a disposition which evoked the
nester’s contempt.

 
          
“Cautious
man, Stinker,’ he commented. “Well, Jim, once more yo’re right—I was a bonehead
to cache the cattle in the Valley. Wonder how that worm got on to it?’

 
          
“Somebody
saw you fetch ‘em in,’ Sudden surmised. “It’s serious this time.’

 
          
“
I’m believin’
you. Rustlin’ is bad, but robbin’ a woman,
my—friend, is damned bad. An’ the truth ain’t worth tellin’.’ Their arrival in
town was witnessed by many. Looking at the faces, Drait soon realised that
public feeling was not in his favour; men he knew well avoided his eye. Pilch
was not of these; the size of the posse gave him an opening.

 
          
“On’y
ten to bring in a desp’rit character like Nick?’ he said loudly. ‘Yo’re takin’
chances, Stinker. Think what a loss you’d be; we’d have nobody to laugh at.’

 
          
Having
seen his friend safely installed in the calaboose and made a mental plan of the
place, Sudden returned to the Valley in the late afternoon and found another
problem awaiting him. Yorky had
come
racing in with
the news that the mistress of the S P had vanished. At first it was assumed
that she had gone for an early morning ride, as her saddle and pony were
missing, but when, after some hours she did not appear, it was discovered that
her bed had not been used. Then the saddled pony drifted in, and the outfit
spread out to scour the range. Yorky came for help. No, the foreman didn’t send
him.

 
          
Sudden
nodded. “How does he figure this out?’

 
          
“Well,
her hat an’ coat is gone, an’ the door to the veranda unbolted. Sturm suggests
she went to sleep over
th
’ fire an’ wakin’ in
daylight, took a tide to freshen up an’ met with an accident. Brownie was a pet
an’ would come at her call.’

 
          
“Mighty
ingenious, but it don’t add up,’ the puncher said. “She’s been carried off, an’
the hoss turned loose as a blind, mebbe by Sturm. Where was he last night?’

 
          
“With
th’ rest of us, watchin’ for cattle-thieves what never showed up.’

 
          
“They
were after other game. Yorky, we got a job to do. No, Quilt, two will be
enough. The rest get some sleep; we’ll be on the move early.’

 
          
It
was late that night when the sheriff, dozing in his office and feeling the
effects of a lavish celebration of his capture—mostly at the expense of
others—heard a light tap at his window. He was rather unsteady, but he managed
to open the door, and nearly lost a tooth on the muzzle of a revolver.

 
          
“One
chirp, an’ they’ll be fittin’ yu with wings—mebbe,’ the masked man holding the
weapon growled.

 
          
The
sheriff allowed himself to be pushed into the room, and turned round obediently
when ordered. The gun-barrel boring into the small of his back, he submitted to
his wrists being handcuffed behind, a gag jammed into his jaws and secured by a
handkerchief—his own—which also deprived him of sight. A final operation roped
him in his chair so that movement became impossible.

 
          
In
picking up a bunch of keys on the desk, the visitor observed a paper. It read: “I
have the girl. Rush the trial and carry out verdict pronto.’

 
          
It
was signed with a sprawling “C,’ and went into the finder’s pocket. On a shelf,
a dusty, little-used volume attracted him; it was a copy of the State laws. He
took it down, read a certain section, and replaced it thoughtfully. Then he
turned to a door on the left, which he knew must lead into the prison. Opening
it softly, he saw a wide, dimly-lighted passage. At one end was the main
entrance, heavily-barred, and at the other, the cell where the nester was
confined. A thin line of light, almost opposite where he stood, indicated a
room from which came the murmur of voices—deputies on guard, no doubt.

 
          
Silent
as a shadow he stole to the cell, took out the bunch of keys, and at the third
attempt found the right one. The prisoner was deep in dreamland; he must be
awakened without noise. Sudden tried the old hunter device—pressure below the
left ear, and in a few moments the sleeper quietly came back to consciousness.

 
          
“It’s
Jim,’ Sudden whispered. “Follow me, and not a sound.’

 
          
Drait
obeyed, without argument. Stealthily they crept back to the sheriff’s office,
and the nester smiled widely when he saw the helpless, muffled figure. The
puncher extinguished the light and they slid outside. Yorky was waiting for
them; his task had been to procure the prisoner’s horse and saddle from the
sheriff’s corral. In five minutes, keeping behind the buildings, they were
clear of the town. Then the released man put a question.

 
          
“Tell
yu all about it at the Valley,’ Sudden promised. “For now, we gotta ride.’

 
          
It
was not until they entered the bunkhouse, and the cheers which greeted their
appearance had subsided, that Nick got his answer.

 
          
“An’
you figured I’d like to help find her?’ he said. “I’m thankin’ you.’

 
          
“Solitude
has dulled yore wits some,’ the puncher smiled. “Ain’t it plain they want the
girl out o’ the way till yu’ve been disposed of, an’ to leave yu in the
calaboose would be handin’ ‘em the pot?’

 
          
“You
think that’s why she’s been taken?’

 
          
“Yeah,
they’re scared she’d plead for yu. There’ll be mostly men in the court, an’
Miss Darrell is a mighty attractive person—though mebbe yu ain’t noticed it.’

 
          
The
mild irony reddened the nester’s cheeks. “That’s one time yo’re wrong, Jim,’ he
said quietly. “What else?’

 
          
“This,’
Sudden replied, and showed the message he had found on the sheriff’s desk.

 
          
“Cullin?’
Drait exclaimed. “If he’s harmed her I’ll cut his heart out.’

 
          
“If
yu can find it,’ Sudden said. “That can wait; we gotta get Miss Darrell.’

 
          
“She
wouldn’t be at the Big C?’

 
          
“No,
that’d be too raw; someone is workin’ for him. We can be at the S P by daylight
an’ mebbe pick up a trail.’

 
          
“Line
yore bellies, boys, it looks like bein’ a long day,’ Drait warned. “I shall
want all o’ you, an’ fetch yore rifles. The Valley must take care of itself.’

 
          
The
eastern sky was lightening when they arrived at the S P. No one was about.
Sudden sent the others into hiding, and proceeded on foot to the ranch-house.
At the end of the building he found a spot where two horses had stood. Tracks
of two people came to the place from the veranda, and the narrow sole and high
heel of one set pointed to a woman. They had mounted there and moved away in a
westerly direction. Occasional indentations led him to an opening in the brush
where hoof-pitted ground and cigarette butts proclaimed that a party of riders
had waited; one print showed a cross in the off hind shoe.

 
          
“Pretty
much as I guessed,’ Sudden reported, when he rejoined the others. “If we can
keep on their trail …’

 
          
Keeping
on the trail proved to be a trying and slow affair, for much of it passed over
coarse grass; often they completely lost it, and all of them had to dismount,
circle, and search on foot. Time after time, however, patience and perseverance
prevailed, and in due course they reached the Big Quake. No one of them had
seen the place before, but the tracks, showing plainly in the softer ground,
led straight to the morass. Drait, who was getting impatient, quickened pace,
but Sudden caught his arm.

 
          
“I
don’t like the look of it,’ he cried. “Why’s the grass green there an’ burned
up here?’

 
          
“But
they went,’ Nick argued.

 
          
“Yeah, a couple of ‘em rode past here an’ backed their hosses
mighty brisk.
Look at Nig; he knows.’

 
          
In
fact, the black, with a snort of fear, had commenced to sift its feet uneasily.
Nick looked down and found his own animal had sunk to the fetlocks. Hurriedly
they retreated. Sudden, swinging down in his saddle, picked up a chunk of wood
and slung it on the line they would have taken. For a moment, they saw it, and
then it was gone.”Nice place—on a dark night,’ he said.

 
          
Retracing
their steps, they found where the quarry had jumped aside on to firm footing.
Circling the morass involved another wearisome ride, but at length they got to
the pine-clothed slope, and saw, about halfway up, a tiny ribbon of smoke
spiralling out of the tops of the trees. As they paced up the narrow pathway,
rifles were examined in readiness. Soon they heard someone whistling, and could
see the cabin through the trees.

 
          
“We’ll
leave the hosses in that bunch o’ bush off the trail,’ Sudden suggested. “Quilt,
Shorty, an’ Smoky can sneak round back o’ the buildin’, case they try to
vamoose. We’ll give yu fifteen minutes to get into position. The firin’ will
tell yu when the dance is on; then use yore judgment.’

 
          
The
three men melted away into the undergrowth, and the others waited, silently.
The quarter of an hour seemed endless, but presently Drait gave the word, and
they moved forward, spread out, and using the tree-trunks as cover. When the
cleared space in front of the cabin was reached, the nester shouted, “Hello,
the house.’

 
          
At
once the door opened and Bardoe
appeared,
rifle in
hand. “Who’s there?’ he called. “Come ahead, with yore paws up.’ Nick stepped
out. “You know me, Bardoe,’ he said.

 
          
“So
you got away?’ he said, amazement evident in his tone, and damned himself for
the slip. “What you want?’

 
          
“Miss
Darrell, an’ you needn’t lie; I know she’s here—Cullin has given the game
away.’

 
          
“Then
I play my own hand,’ Bull replied, and with a sneering laugh, “Go to hell.’

 
          
With
the last word he fired, sprang back, and slammed the door. His bullet whined
past the other’s ear. An instant later
came
darts of
flame from the two windows and several loopholes; no damage was done.

 
          
“Me
an’ Yorky’ll deal with the windows, Nick,’ Sudden called out. “Yu an’ Long take
the loopholes.’

 
          
For
some moments the stream of lead continued, but beyond trimming the trees and
bringing down showers of twigs and leaves, it accomplished nothing. In both
directions, lead threaded the air, chipping bark from the trunks sheltering the
assailants, and zooming through the now glassless windows beneath which the
defenders crouched. The latter had not been lucky; two would never fight again,
and several were hurt. Bardoe strode up and down the room; things were going
ill. Frayle, his left arm useless, had an idea.

 
          
“Why
not git away, an’ take the gal with us? If they foller, we can wait for
‘em—under cover. Shall I see if the back’s clear?’

 
          
Bull
nodded; it seemed the only chance. He was wondering if indeed Cullin had
weakened?
“He would, curse him, to save his hide,’ he
muttered. “Where in hell is Frayle?’