Shoot-out at Split Rock (14 page)

At dawn they crossed the river without mishap and resumed the long trek northward. Baudry, as usual, had loped his horse to Carol's side.

"You get more charming every day,'* he murmured. *This nomad life seems to suit you."

"I love it," she smiled.

"The West is wonderful," he said, "but don't you ever have a hankering to see the real big cities of the world, New York, London, Paris, Rome, with their fine streets, famous picture galleries, palaces, cathedrals, theatres, and to join in the whirl of pleasure they offer?"

"Why, certainly, that would be great, and I expect every girl has such dreams," Carol confessed. "But after a while I would want to come home to Texas."

"Just to go on raising cows," the gambler said.

It brought a faint flush to the girl's hghtly tanned cheeks. "Just to go on raising—a new empire," she said quiedy. "Yes, Mister Baudry, for that is what the Westerner, rude, ignorant, and frequently criminal as he may be, is doing. Blazing a trail for the millions who will come to replace his sordid settlements with great cities and teach the untamed soil of the wilderness to produce food for the world."

"You're entirely right. Miss Carol, though 111 admit I hadn't looked at it quite that way," he responded. "And I'm proposing to do my share by starting a ranch not very far from the S-E—just to raise cows." He smiled, hesitated a moment, and then, "But first, Fm taking a hohday, to see all the places I mentioned, and others." He leaned across and laid a hand on one of hers. "Will you come with me—Carol?"

Completely taken by surprise, she could only stare at him. He did not wait for a reply.

"I want you for my wife," he said hoarsely. "I'm mad about you—have been since we first met. I'll give you everything you ask for. We'll see all the world can show us and then come back—to Texas. I'm planning big, my

dear, but I can swing it; the West is going to hear of Jethro Baudry, believe me."

Carol's eyes opened wide and she shrank from him, draggiag her hand from his hot clasp, "But I've no intention of marrying yet, Mister Baudry, and I don't like you —in that way," she stammered at last.

The gambler's face showed his chagrin.

"Perhaps I've spoken too soon. Will you try to care for me, Carol?" he urged. "There isn't anyone esle, is there?"

He saw the warm color steal into her cheeks again at that.

"No, of course not," she protested. '

"You haven't got notions about any of these scarecrow riders, have you?" he asked keenly, and instantly saw that he had made a slip.

The impertinence angered her. "These men may be poor and ragged. Mister Baudry," she retorted, "but there is not one of them who would do or say anything to hurt me, or who would not risk his life for mine."

"I know it—I'm all wrong," he said contritely. "It's pure jealousy, girl; you've got into my blood. Promise me you'll think it over."

"I would much rather forget it," she repUed. "We can be friends."

"No," he cried passionately. "It's all or nothing with me. I'm not taking your answer yet. I'll make you care. Do you know what they say of me in the settlements? 'Jethro Baudry always wins—sooner or later.' That's my reputation, and by the Lord, it shan't fail me now. I'll not bother you any more now, Carol," he said. "I fancy Dutt is in front; I have a word to say to him."

He rode off, raking his mount ruthlessly with the spurs.

Ten

The man was sitting, his back against a tree, his eyes closed. By his side lay a rifle and a saddle, while round his middle was slung a heavy revolver. His thin, harsh face, from which jutted out a beak of a nose, gave him a predatory expression, and a straggling, uncared-for beard

lent an appearance of age which his wiry frame belied. It was Jed, riding point, who discovered him.

"Hey, stranger, you have shorely picked a pore place for a nap," he called.

The man opened his eyes. "Hell!" he said weakly, "I was beginnin' to think I was the last fella left in the world. Ain't got a shot o' hcker, I s'pose? I'm about all in."

"Friend," the cowboy grinned, "I've helped hustle these longhoms from near San Antonio. If you think a Texan would carry pain-killer aU that way you don't know the breed. I figure you lost yore bronc?" The stranger nodded. "The chuckwagon an' remuda'll be along presently, they'll fix you up."

In camp that night the stranger told his story. His name, he said, was "Rollitt," and he was horse wrangler to the trail outfit they had followed. One morning he had missed several horses, set out to track them, and had been surprised and chased by Indians. "By bad luck they was between me an' the camp," he continued, "so I had to run west. Well, I lost them war-whoops, but I killed my hoss doin' it—just dropped under me—an' I lost count o' time too."

Listening to the story. Sudden had studied the man closely but could call up no recollection of him. A whispered question to Sandy brought only a shake of the head. RoUitt's explanation seemed hkely enough and yet Sudden had a feeUng that something was wrong. Eden, however, seemed satisfied.

"You've had a tough time, stranger, an' I reckon there's small hope o' joinin' yore own outfit yet awhile," he said. "We lost our wrangler back on the trail; one o' the boys has been deputizin' but I guess he'd be pleased to hand over the job. What do you say?"

"Well, I'm shorely a maverick an' I'm thankin' you," the newcomer replied, and, as the catdeman put a question, "This country is new to me but I figure you should be north o' the Wichita. We kept a straighter line, but we got held up an' had to hand over cash or cattle. I'd say the longer trip'll pay you in the end."

So it was arranged. Rollitt took over the remuda and appeared to know the work. He did not mix much with the men but was frequendy seen in converse with Dutt,

who explained that both of them hailed from Missouri. Sudden saw little of the man, but as he confided to Sandy, that litde was enough.

"What's the poor devil done to you?" the young man asked.

"Nothin'—yet," was the reply. "You didn't see all Rogue's men, did you?"

"Les'n half, I'd say; he had a biggish crowd—scattered, too. You ain't thhikin' this jigger was planted there to wait for us? His tale seemed straight enough."

"Too straight, it didn't match his crooked face."

"Hell, Jim, humans ain't permitted to pick their parents," Sandy laughed. "But I gotta admit that if looks count any he'll be the wrong side when they slam the Golden Gates on him."

But Sudden was serious. "I've a hunch he's here to make trouble—^mebbe for us."

It was nearly a week later that Sudden's forebodings were justified. The foreman, distress signals flying in his face, strode over to where the men were breakfasting and called Sudden aside.

"The or Man wants you an' Sandy, pronto," he said "He's in one of his tearin' tempers; watch yore step."

The cattleman was sitting with his back to a wagon wheel. Carol, Baudry, and Dutt were seated near, and standing by was the new hand, Rollitt. Eden's brows bent in a heavy frown when he saw the men he had sent for. He wasted no time.

"Green, how long you been one o' Rogue's riders?" he rasped.

"I ain't," the cowboy said coolly.

"Don't he," the old man roared. "Rollitt here saw you in Rogue's hideout just before you come to the S-E."

Sudden looked at the wrangler. "So you are one o' his men?"

"Nope, I happened to drift in," the fellow said sullenly. "He made me an offer an' I refused it."

"My own case exactly," Sudden said drily.

"You were seen workin' with the outlaws, brandin' stolen cattle," Eden went on.

"Those men were feedin' me; I gave a hand," Sudden explained. "Besides I was told the cows were mavericks."

"You were migbty friendly with Rogue, an' after you'd gone he gave out that you were on an errand for him."

Sudden's eyes sought the informer again. "For a casual stranger you seem to have been pretty deep in Rogue's confidence," he said acidly.

Eden ignored the comment. "An' yore 'errand' was to get into my outfit an' help wreck the drive," he said bitterly.

"I 'pear to have fallen down on that," the accused re-phed.

"Yeah, for yore own reasons," Eden sneered. "No wonder you could round up them stampeded steers. Easy, wam't it, when yore boss—gettin' a better idea—^told you to do it An' then, for some devil's purpose, he lets you fetch my daughter back."

"Make a job of it," Sudden urged with savage sarcasm. **Say I was in cahoots with the Comanches too."

"You went after yore fellow thief—Fll give you that much credit," the cattleman snapped.

"I'm obliged," the cowboy countered,

Baudry drew a paper from his pocket, unfolded, and held it up. "Isn't this your description?" he asked.

Sudden did not need to read it—every word had been branded on his brain as by a hot iron. Nevertheless, he leaned forward and scanned it leisurely.

"Them particulars might apply to a hundred others," he evaded. "An' my boss ain't got a white face."

"Hasn't it?" the gambler rapped out. "I'd like to be sure of that. Rollitt, fetch that black."

Sudden's face hardened to stone. "Don't you—unless you want to die," he warned. "Sometime, when he was a colt, I reckon, that hoss had an adventure with a skunk, an' he hates 'em."

"Never seen the bronc I couldn't handle," RoUitt growled.

"Go ahead," Sudden said. "Fm givin' you permission, but I won't promise to bury you; I don't like sktmks neither."

The wrangler hesitated, and was obviously relieved when the cattleman broke in angrily: "To hell with the hoss. Where's the need o' that when Rollitt heard you refered to as 'Sudden' by the outlaws? You denyin' it?"

"I'm not denyin' anythin'," Sudden said tersely. "An' now—^what?"

"I oughta tell my men to string the pair o' you up to the nearest tree."

The unjust threat stirred the cowboy to anger. "Come alive, Eden," he said roughly. "What sort of an outfit would you have left?"

"Showin' your true colors now—gunman stuff, eh?'* Baudry said scornfully.

"Lettin' myself be hanged wouldn't prove my innocence," the other retorted. He looked at the rancher. "Eden, yo're followin' a false trail," he said quietly. "One o' these days you'U find that out. For now—I'm goin'."

The old man did not reply at once; doubts were disturbing him. He could not forget that Sudden had saved Carol from the Indians, but—as Baudry had been at pains to point out—the worst outlaw in the wilds would have done no less in like circimistances. His toubled gaze traveled to Sandy. The youth forestalled him.

"Jim's my friend; if he goes, I do," he said.

The defiant tone roused the rancher's quick temper again. "Yo're damn right there," he rasped. "But first you'll answer a question. What took you outa camp the night I got this?" He tapped his wounded chest.

The boy's face flamed at the accusation—for it amounted to that. "You think I creased you?" he cried indignantly, and then, "Hell! what's the good... ?"

"I don't think—I know," came the passionate assertion. "Yore boss. Rogue, put you up to bump me off, an' when you failed, Lasker had to try."

"He'd have got you too, with a second shot, if Jim here hadn't stopped him," Sandy savagely reminded. "You ex-plainin' that?"

"Simple," Eden sneered. "Lasker had bungled it an* might 'a' talked. It was a safe play to silence him an' get solid with me."

Sandy had no more to say. His world had come crashing about his ears and he could see nothing but the set, pale face of a girl, who, with downcast eyes, had been a witness of his degradation. Baudry, seated next to her, was watching him with an expression of contemptuous amusement. Little did the gambler suspect how near he

was to death at that moment. Eden made a violent gesture.

"Punch the breeze, the pair o' you," he said hoarsely. "JeflE, you go along an' see they don't take nothin' but what belongs to 'em."

At this gratuitous insult, Sudden, his thumbs hooked in his belt, shot a scornful look at the speaker. "Don't overplay yore hand, Eden," he warned. "As for yore threats, there ain't a man in yore outfit would pull a gun on me, 'cept that card-sharp an' his two friends, an' they haven't the guts." His cold, appraising gaze traveled from Baudry to Dutt and Rollitt. "Like I said," he added, as they made no move. "Three—yeller—dawgs. Adios!"

As he turned away, the gambler's hand went to his pistol but the rancher spoke sharply: "None o' that, Jeth-ro. Call him back if you want, but you should 'a' took him up when he offered."

The other shrugged his shoulders indifferently, but there was a frozen fury in his voice as he replied, "You're too squeamish, Sam; you don't give a rattler an even break— if you're wise."

In the rope corral which held the night horses Sudden and Sandy found their mounts. The foreman watched in silence as they roUed their blankets, and then burst out:

"Jim, I just can't believe it—the Ol' Man must be loco. It wam't no use sayin' a word—on'y 'a' made him wuss."

"I know, ol' timer," Sudden said, with a hard smile. "It's a queer yam—too long to tell now—truth an' lies aU snarled up. I ain't blamin' the boss—much; he's sick, an' with Rogue hangin' on his heels, it ain't surprisin' he's suspicious."

"Is it true yo're the fella they call 'Sudden,' Jim?"

"Yeah, but there's an explanation to that too. Keep a-smilin', Jeff; there was never a rope so badly tangled it couldn't be straightened out." From the back of the big black he smiled wryly. "We'll be seein' you—mebbe," he said.

For upward of two miles neither of the outcasts spoke and then Sandy's bitterness overflowed: "Damnation, even she believes I shot the Ol' Man."

"You ain't no right to say that. You weren't lookin*

but I fancy I saw a hand wave from the tent as we left camp."

Sandy's doleful face changed magically. "You did, Jim?" he asked eagerly. His companion grinned too, but for another reason.

"He's just as happy as if she had waved," he reflected. "An' anyways, he'd do more'n tell a he for me."

"Where do we head for, Jim?" the subject of his thoughts asked. "We got plenty choice."