Read Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 01 - The Range Robbers(1930) Online
Authors: Oliver Strange
“Tell
‘em to go to hell,’ he stormed. “When I want any advice on runnin’ my own
affairs I’ll shore ask for it. Get agoin’ an’ sic them lazy devils onto their
jobs.’
Leeming,
watching the foreman closely, saw him stiffen as though about to reply in kind
and then, with an evil scowl, he turned and slouched away. The eyes of Tarman
and the foreman had met for an instant, and Leeming fancied that the former had
slightly shaken his head, but he could not be sure; the act might have been
involuntary, or in general disapproval of an unedifying exhibition.
Leaving
the other two, Job strolled down to the bunkhouse, of which he found
Snap
the sole occupant. The gunman greeted him with his rare
twisted grin.
“Rattler
seems to have had a mighty poor reception from the Old Man,’ he volunneered.
“He
come
back a-bilin’.’
“Well,
Simon shore did get the notion that yu fellers wanta run the ranch,’ Leeming
replied. “He’s pretty sore over losing his prisoner.’
“Too
bad,’ Lunt said gravely, not a muscle on his face moving. “Wonder who could ‘a’
done it?’
The
cattleman laughed. “S’ll right, Snap, I ain’t tryin’ to find out,’ he said.
“Know anythin’ about Sudden, the outlaw?’ Snap shot a quick look at his
questioner. “No more than anybody else—he’s a bit of a mystery,’ he replied. “I
saw him years ago an’ he’s shore a ring-tailed merricle with a gun, but I’ve
allus reckoned he’s been handed the credit for a lot o’ things he had nothin’
to do with. Feller’s only got to rub out one or two toughs an’ he gets half the
crimes in the country ladled onto him.’
Leeming
knew something of the little gunman’s own past and did not pursue what was
evidently a subject which aroused bitter recollections.
“Where
do yu reckon Green will make for?’ was his next query.
“I
ain’t doin’ any reckonin’,’ came the blunt reply, and Job saw that Lunt was not
to be drawn.
When
he got back to the ranch-house he found Tarman on the point of returning to
town, and he suddenly decided to accompany him. Before leaving, he slipped into
the kitchen, where he found Noreen alone. Her pale face and the misery in her
eyes made him mutter an oath.
‘Oh,
what does it all mean, Uncle Job? I can’t believe it,’ she cried.
“There,
don’t yu fuss yoreself, my
girl,
it’ll all come
straight,’ he replied soothingly. ‘I don’t believe it myself, but, for the love
o’ Mike, don’t tell yore father that.’
To
Simon himself he simply said, “Send for me if you want me, an’ don’t trust
anybody too much.’
“I
ain’t trustin’ out-o’-work punchers no more, if that’s what yu mean,’ replied
Simon, bitterly.
It
was not, but Leeming could hardly explain in the presence of the other guest so
he let it go. As they loped along the trail to Hatchett’s he put a plain
question: “
What’s
yore scheme for gettin’ hold o’ this
feller Green?’
“I
ain’t got it straightened out yet—just millin’ round in my head,’ Tarman
replied evasively. ‘I reckon it will work though, an’ once I get my rope on him
no fool girl will be able to set him foot-loose again, an’ yu can stick a pin
in that.’
“Huh!
I guess he’ll quit.’
“Yu
got another guess—he won’t; I know the breed. He
come
here to wipe out Simon an’ he’ll do it.’
“But
yu said he don’t know
it’s
Simon he wants,’ Job
reminded him.
“He
don’t
yet, but he will,’ arid Tarman grinned as though
an amusing idea had just occurred to him.
The
Frying Pan owner pondered on this in silence. If Tarman could contrive that
Green should kill Simon and hang for it, he removed an enemy and possible
rival, and would only have to wed Noreen to become at once sole owner of the Y
Z. Was
this the
game? He determined to make an attempt
to find out.
“How
do yu like this country, Tarman?’ he asked.
“Fine,’
replied the other. “It’s even better than the reports that fetched me here. Yu
may as well know now as later, I’m aimin’ to buy in on the Y Z an’ settle down
here, an’ I might take on yore range too if we can come to terms.’
“I’ve
no idea of sellin’,’ Leeming told him.
“Mebbe
yu will change yore mind,’ smiled Tarman. “If yu don’t, well, I’ll be tickled
to death to have yu as a neighbour. Yu can see now why I’m hornin’ in on this
rustlin’ game; I don’t propose to have any damned outlaw projectin’ round
stealin’ my cattle.’
“I’ve
allus reckoned Norry would have the Y Z,’ Job said, reflectively.
“So
she will,’ smirked the big man. “But she’ll get me with it.’
“Got that fixed, have yu?’ Leeming
said,
a trifle sarcastically. “Not altogether, but I’m
bettin’ there won’t be no great difficulty,’ was the satisfied rejoinder. “The
old
man’s strong for it an’ I fancy the girl don’t
exactly dislike me.’
“Huh!
Yore attitude just now warn’t calculated no impress her favourably.’
“Shucks!
Women like a man as is a man—they fall for the rough stuff every time; I know
how to handle ‘em.’
Leeming
was silent for a while. He did not like the fellow, and he liked still less the
idea of his marrying Noreen. If Green was right, Tarman was a scoundrel of the
worst description, and in any case, he showed himself to be a conceited
braggart. Job determined that the girl should not be forced into such a union
if he could do anything to prevent it.
“What’s
Green got against Petter?’ he asked.
“Oh,
it’s an old story—nothin’ to it. Yu better ask Simon himself,’ was the reply.
By
the time they arrived at Hatchett’s Folly Leeming had learned nothing more;
apparently the big man had told as much as he wished of his plans. It was early
yet for the town to be waking up for the evening diversions but there was an
unwonned air of excitement; little groups of men stood in the street discussing
something, and when they entered the saloon they found more than the usual
quota of customers for the time of day.. It was Silas who blurted out the news.
“Say,
yu heard about than feller Green?’ he queried as they reached the bar, and
without waiting for an answer, went on, “He’s Sudden, the outlaw. What do you
know about that, huh?’
Tarman
stifled an oath and laughed instead. “Shucks, someone’s been stringin’ yu,
Silas,’ he said.
“String
nothin’,’ retorted the barkeeper. “He’s been recognised, an’ they say that Simon
has him under lock an’ key at the Y Z. Tonk is gettin’ a posse to go an’ fetch
him in.’
“Then
Tonk can save himself the trouble,’ said Tarman. “We just come from the Y Z,
an’ Green ain’t there.’
“Not
there, yu say?’ asked the marshal, who had entered in time to hear the last few
words. “But he was there, warn’t he?’ Tarman explained why it was no longer of
any use for the officer to journey to the Y Z, and Tonk’s face grew redder and
redder as he listened.
“She
turned him loose?’ he yelled. “My Gawd, I’ve a mind to fetch the damned hussy
an’ put her where he oughtta be—in the pen. She’s bruk the law.’
Job
Leeming’s face grew stormy. “Don’t overplay yore hand, marshal,’ he grated.
“Green warn’t the law’s prisoner, so there’s no legal offence in setting him
free. Another thing yu gotta remember—when you have to refer to that young lady
yu do it respectful, or I’ll just naturally bust yu wide open.’
“An’
that goes for me too,’ added Tarman, with an ugly look at the marshal.
A
chorus of voices endorsed the sentiment and Tonk realised that he was not
adding to his popularity.
“Well,
o’ course, I didn’t mean just that,’ he said, with a halfhearted grin which
deceived no one. “I own to gettin’ a bit het up over the chance this town has
missed. Than feller’s worth all of ten thousand plunks, an’ to think I’ve had
him under my hand in this very place. Gosh, if only I’d ‘a’ knowed.’
“Blame
good thing for yu yu didn’t,’
sneered
Tarman. “Why, yu
poor simp, if yu’d tried to arrest him, yu’d have been halfway to hell before
yu got yore gun out.’
“An’
that’s whatever,’ corroborated the barkeeper. “Look what he done to Snub. I
allus had a notion he warn’t just an ordinary cowwrastler.’
“Allasame,
we gotta do somethin’,’ said the marshal. “What about a posse to search him
out, Leeming?’
But
the owner of the Frying Pan was no longer there. Knowing that to save his face
the officer would have to make a show of activity, and having no desire to take
part in it, he had discreetly slipped out of the saloon.
GREEN
stretched out his legs luxuriously as he reclined by the little fire on the
glowing embers of which was a pan giving forth the appetising odour of sizzling
bacon. They had ridden hard all night, and now in the early morning had camped in
a deep, wooded gully well to the north of the rustlers’ hidden valley.
Keen
as the air was it had a tang in it that acted like a
tonic,
and the cowpuncher filled his lungs and was glad to be alive. Near-by, Larry,
who had gone to fill the coffee-pot at a neighbouring stream, was singing
lustily:
Oh,
Bronco Bill was a bold, bad
man,
A bold, bad man was
he.
An’
he could ride, an’ rope, an’ shoot,
An’ swaller the worst whiskee.
Yeah, Bronco Bill could do
that last
Better’n the other three.
As
he came into sight warbling this gem, the man by the fire aised a warning hand.
“Hush,’ he said. “Ain’t yu got any sense?’ The singer paused in amazement.
“What harm’s my singin’ goin’ to do?’ he demanded.
“Kill
all the frawgs—they’ll die of envy,’ replied Green solemnly, and then ducked as
the boy threatened to pitch the coffee-pot at him. “Put that on the fire, yu
gale-in-the-night.’ Larry complied, being fully as hungry as his friend.
“Mighta
knowed yu couldn’t appreciate good music,’ he said. “I can, that’s why I’m
objectin’,’ smiled the other. “That sliced hawg’s makin’ all the melody I want
to listen to just now.’
For
the next fifteen minutes both were too busy to talk. Then, bacon and biscuit
having been washed down with three cups of coffee apiece, they rolled smokes
and prepared to take it easy for a while.
“Gosh,
this suits me,’ Larry said, as a delicate ring of smoke issued from his lips.
“Damn punchin’ cows, I say.’