Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 10 - Sudden Plays a Hand(1950) (8 page)

 
          
“Brownie,
it’s—just—Eden,’ she told her pony.

 
          
“Needs
an Adam though,’ chuckled a gruff voice.

 
          
She
turned her head; a big man on a horse was just at her shoulder; it was Bardoe.
Her cry of astonishment and attempt to back away brought suspicion. Grabbing
her rein, he bent and peered closely; recognition dawned in his eyes.

 
          
“So
it’s you? Well by Gawd, that’s luck I warn’t lookin’ for,’ he cried. His gaze
travelled over the trim figure gloatingly. “I knowed you was a pretty piece,
but duds shore do make a difference.’

 
          
He
leaned nearer and she tried to sway away. “I thought you were killed,’ she
said.

 
          
“Near
thing,’ he replied, tapping the soiled rag twisted about his head. “Creased me,
that’s
all. I was out for a coupla days, an’ them
cussed idjuts o’ mine had me all ready for plantin’.
Funny to
come to life in yore coffin.
You don’t seem overjoyed.’

 
          
“Why
should I be?’ she retorted. “I’m glad you escaped, but

 
          
“One
man’s as good as another, huh?’ he sneered. “Mebbe better, if he buys you fine
fixin’s. Allasame, yo’re wrong—Drait ain’t goin’ to last ten flicks of a cow’s
tail. He makes mistakes; the man who steals my hoss, money, an’ woman, has
gotta take my life too.’

 
          
“I
was not your woman,’ Mary said furiously. “And

 
          
“Don’t
say it,’ he grated. “We’re startin’ for the 8 B right now.’

 
          
He
dragged her pony’s head round. Suddenly she remembered, drew her revolver from
the holster, and levelled it at his head. “Get away from me or I’ll fire,’ she
threatened.

 
          
For
an instant he paused, staring, and then, with a grin, came closer. She pulled
the trigger, but only a click resulted; she had neglected Drait’s instruction
to always reload at once. In anger and disgust she flung the weapon to the
ground. Bardoe’s laugh was torture.

 
          
“I
like ‘em with guts,’ he said. “Yore man should ‘a’ told you that an empty gun
is more dangerous than no gun a-tall.’ “He did,’ she muttered miserably. “I
forgot.’

 
          
“Well,
well, you’ll know better next time—mebbe,’ he jeered, and jerked at the rein of
the unwilling Brownie. “C’mon, lift yore damn legs, you.’

 
          
“Lift
yore damn paws, you,’ echoed a rather high-pitched but very steady voice.

 
          
Bardoe
dared not disobey; one glance at the girl’s face told him he was trapped. As he
made the movement, he risked a lightning peep over his shoulder but got no
satisfaction. The newcomer was young, little more than a boy, but there was
nothing juvenile about the Winchester he held, finger tight against the
trigger; the slightest increase of pressure…. Like most of his kidney, Bardoe
was a willing gambler, but here he had no chance; long before he could start
anything, hot lead would be boring his body.

 
          
“Shuck
yore shootin’-irons—all of ‘em,’ came the curt order. “An’ make it snappy.’

 
          
The
ruffian obeyed; with the enemy behind him, even a gun in his hand was of no
use. A pair of revolvers and a rifle dropped to the ground. Lynx-eyed, Yorky
watched the operation.

 
          
“You
all right, ma’am?’ he asked.

 
          
“Yes,’
she replied. “Please let him go.’

 
          
Yorky
did not approve of this—he wanted to hand the fellow over to Quilt—but the girl
was obdurate, and he gave in. ‘Yo’re playin’ in luck, hombre, but don’t figure
on it,’ he said. “Next time you’ll be shot on sight. Now fade.’

 
          
“Yore
turn today, mebbe mine tomorrow,’ Bardoe retorted, with a black scowl.

 
          
The
boy waited until he disappeared, and then, having fetched his horse and
collected the forfeited arms, they set out for the house. After she had thanked
him warmly—to his great discomfort—she wanted to know how he happened to be at
that end of the valley.

 
          
“I
was lookin’ for another way out, an’ stickin’ close to the cliff,’ he
explained.

 
          
“Did
you find one?’

 
          
He
shook his head.
“Ain’t finished searchin’.’

 
          
She
suspected this to be a mere excuse but did not pursue the subject. Yorky, she
learned, had come upon the scene only a moment before he intervened and did not
know the intruder’s identity.

 
          
“That
was Bardoe,’ she told him.

 
          
“Hell’s
gates!’ Yorky swore, apologised, and added bitterly. “I savvied we was wrong to
turn him loose.’

 
          
“That
was my doing,’ she said.

 
          
The
reappearance of the man was a shock, and his parting threat told her that she
had not seen the last of him. The remembrance of the unconcealed lust in his
gaze made her shiver. Odd that she might yet come to regard Drait as … She
drove away the thought impatiently; at the best, he could be no more than the
lesser of two evils.

 
          
**

 
          
The
foreman of the S P watched the approaching horseman and grinned crookedly when
he recognised him. “Boy, you got a nibble, but you need to play him afore you
strike,’ he told himself. “He ain’t
no
sucker.’ And
when the visitor reached the ranch-house, “Lo, Drait, take the weight off’n
yore saddle.’

 
          
The
nester complied, and sat rolling a cigarette, waiting for the other to open the
ball.

 
          
“How’s
thing’s at Shadow Valley?’ Gilman began.

 
          
“Fine
as silk,’ Nick replied easily.

 
          
“Been
to town lately?’

 
          
“Any good reason why I should?’

 
          
“No, but there may be one for keepin’ away.’

 
          
“You
ain’t referrin’ to that bum sheriff, are you?’ Drait asked scornfully.

 
          
“Not
as a good reason,’ Gilman laughed. “Allasame, if you do have to go, take yore
friend along, an’ tell him to be more careful where he plants the pills;
shootin’ the buttons off’n a rattler may be fine marksmanship but
it’s
pore judgment. Still figure on stayin’ in our midst?’

 
          
“Shore
do—
there’s plenty room for another range without
crowdin’ anybody,’ Drait replied.

 
          
“Well,
it ain’t worryin’ me none,’ the foreman said carelessly.

 
          
“Mebbe
if I owned the S P I’d talk different, but …’ He finished with a shrug.

 
          
“You
should have a good job here.’

 
          
“Don’t
think it; that law-sharp at Rideout keeps me mighty close-hauled—you’d fancy
the damn place belonged to him. I’m runnin’ the whole shootin’ match an’
drawin’ a foreman’s pay. Is that fair?’

 
          
“I’ll
say it ain’t,’ the other agreed. “Mebbe the new owner’ll make it up to you,
when they find him.’

 
          
“More
likely to turf me out, figurin’ to do it better hisself,’ Gilman said gloomily.
“Started yore herd yet?’

 
          
“You
said you might do somethin’ about that.’

 
          
“How
about sixty yearlin’s an’ forty calves at eight bucks per head all round?’

 
          
“Sounds cheap.’

 
          
“It
is, but the ranch is short o’ ready coin. It’ll be unbranded stock, mostly
our’n—my fellas ain’t too careful—with mebbe a sprinklin’ o’ strays, but when
yore iron’s on ‘em it’ll be nobody’s business.’

 
          
His
slitted eyes watched the nester closely as he made this proposition, but he saw
only what seemed to be appreciation of a real bargain.

 
          
“I’m
obliged,’ Draft said. ‘I’ll certainly chew on that.’

 
          
“Let
me know, an’ the beasts’ll be ready. You can collect at daylight—I don’t want
it knowed that the S P is pushed for money.’

 
          
Drait
came away in a thoughtful frame of mind. Either Gilman was deliberately robbing
his employers, or he was setting a trap, and it was more than possible he was
doing both. Dealing with a lawyer who knew nothing of the cattle business the
former would be easy, but the alternative required serious consideration.
Probably the foreman was working with the other ranchers, and Drait had no
desire to hand them a weapon against
himself
.

 
          
When
he arrived at Shadow Valley he found the wall completed, and he had to wait
while a grinning Smoky unfastened and flung open a half of the massive gates.

 
          
“Well,
Boss, here she is,’ he said. “Strong enough to stop a
stampede,
an’ six fellas what can shoot’ll hold her agin a regiment.’

 
          
Drait
nodded. “Shouldn’t have no more surprises.’

 
          
But
there was one waiting for him at the house. Mary was at the door, and he almost
fancied she was relieved to see him. “There is something you have to know,’ she
began. “Bardoe is alive.’

 
          
With
a frown which grew heavier he listened to her story.

 
          
Only
when she had finished did he make the comment. “You let him go?’

 
          
“I
was to blame,’ she replied. “Yorky wanted to hold him.’ “Yorky was right.’ He
looked at her ironically. “You tried to shoot the man, an’ then…

 
          
“I
can’t explain,’ she interrupted passionately.

 
          
“I
s’pose you thought I’d finish what I’d bungled,’ he said, and when she did not
deny, “I don’t shoot unarmed men—he’d have had an even break, which is more
than he gave me. Well, that job’s still to do, but there’s another I must be
seem’ to.’

 
          
He
strode to the bunkhouse, where he found the outfit, all save Smoky. The foreman
asked a question.

 
          
“Good
work,’ Drait replied. “But there’s a rat-hole at the other end that’s gotta be
stopped complete an’ pronto. Yorky, I’m right obliged to you.’

 
          
The
boy squirmed uneasily. “Ain’t worth mentionin’,’ he said. “If I’d knowed who he
was …’

 
          
“Shore,
I understand,’ the nester smiled. “Jim, there’s somethin’ I wanna ask you.’

 
          
When
they were outside the bunkhouse, Drait told of the offer he had received. “O’
course, he’ll put the dollars in his own pocket—after squarin’ his men,’ he
concluded. “I don’t care none about that; what I’m wonderin’, is he diggin’ a
hole for me?’

 
          
“If
the critters ain’t marked, I don’t see how he could do anythin’,’ Sudden said. “There’s
one precaution yu might take; where does he bank?’

 
          
“With
the Western Union; it’s the on’y one in Midway; we all use it.’

 
          
“Good.
Draw the money out in big bills, have the manager make a note o’ the date an’
numbers, an’ tell him you might need to know who pays ‘em in again. If Gilman
tries any tricks, he may get tangled in his own rope.’