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

 
          
“An’
the recent murder of two men in Shadow Valley is also no concern o’ yores?’
Drait asked cynically. “I am not here to discover or arrest malefactors,’
Towler said disdainfully. “I am answerable only to the Law—’

 
          
“An’ the Governor who appointed yu,’ Sudden reminded.

 
          
The
Judge looked at this hard-featured man whose cold, level voice he heard for the
first time. This must be the fellow who had crippled the sheriff. He decided
not
no
reply.”Yo’re forgettin’ Stinker an’ the
cattlemen,’ Drait said.

 
          
The
taunt stung like a whip-lash. Quivering with rage, the badgered jurist cried, “I
won’t put up with this; I’ll have you charged with contempt of court, and…’

 
          
“I’ll
plead guilty to that,’ was the biting reply. “Listen, Towler; I came here to
find out whether you were fool or crook. Yo’re both, but you haven’t the guts
to be real bad, or to run with the rats who are usin’ you. Yo’re on the wrong
trail, an’ it’ll land you in the pen—if you live. Adios.’ With which ironical
farewell, the visitors filed out. Towler sat staring at the closed door for
some moments, and then opened a drawer, produced a flask, and took a hearty
pull at it.

 
          
“Damn
Bardoe,’ he said fervently.

 
          
“Where we bound for, Jim?’
Yorky wanted to know when they
set off on the following morning.

 
          
Payin’
a visit to Mister Bardoe,’ Sudden said. “But we ain’t intendin’ to intrude, in
fact, we’re goin’ to be real shy. What’s yore opinion o’ Nick?’

 
          
The
boy thought for a moment. “A mighty good friend and a damn bad enemy,’ he
replied. “If
th
’ other man fights dirty, he’ll do th’
same, or wuss.’

 
          
Sudden
nodded. “That’s how I figure him.’ He glanced slyly at his companion. “I dunno
how things’ll break, but backin’ his play won’t exactly be a pleasure trip.’

 
          
“If
yo’re worryin’ about me, forget it,’ Yorky said. “Think
I
wanta ride around gazin’ at scenery? I like action.’

 
          
They
were headed west, through a jumbled mess of country—open plain, forested
slopes, stony, dry ravines, all of which led to higher ground. In front, but
miles distant, rose a wide, flat-topped bluff.

 
          
“That’ll
be Table Mesa,’ Sudden remarked. “Somewhere around there is Mister Bardoe’s
hang-out. If we run into him, keep yore hat pulled down; he’s had a look at
yu.’

 
          
“Not
much o’ one, ‘less he’s got eyes in th’ back of his head,’ the boy laughed. “Allasame,
there’s times I like to be forgotten.’

 
          
As
they drew nearer to the Mesa the surface of the country became less irregular;
stretches of good grazing studded with mottes of scrub-oak, thorn, and cactus
were frequent, and in the distance, moving spots which could only be cattle.
Not wishing to be seen, the intruders were forced to skirt the edges of these
open spaces, where the brush afforded cover. Presently, in a secluded grassy
hollow, they came upon a dozen or more steers. The animals appeared no be
disturbed, restless, and now and again one would turn no lick its haunch. There
was a lingering odour of burnt hair, and on one side of the hollow a tiny curl
of blue smoke from the remains of a fire.

 
          
“Fresh
brands,’ Sudden remarked. “If they’re 8 B it’s none of our business.’

 
          
They
edged their horses slowly forward until the tell-tale marks could be read. “Double
X an’ the bottom halves is new—put on within the hour,’ the puncher commented. “Up
to then they were owned by the Double V. This is gettin’ interestin’.’

 
          
They
went on, discovering more Double X cattle, these with the alterations partly
healed, and then lighted on a bunch bearing the brand 8 B.

 
          
“That’s
his own, same as on
th
’ hoss he rode into th’ valley,’
Yorky said.

 
          
“Take
another squint, son,’ the elder man advised. “Bout
a coupla
weeks
back, these were S P steers. See where the S has been turned into
the figure, an’ a lower loop added to the P?’

 
          
“Yo’re
right, Jim,’ Yorky agreed. “I don’t know it all yet.’

 
          
“An’
that’s allus worth findin’ out,’ Sudden smiled. “Wonder why he’s keepin’ off Cullin?’

 
          
“Mebbe
he ain’t; we just don’t happen to ‘a’ found ‘em’

 
          
They
continued the search, but a broad expanse of open range compelled them to stay
in the shelter of the undergrowth, and they found no more cattle. On the edge
of a small clearing they halted; in it stood a largish log building,
one-storied, and of uncared-for appearance. This, they guessed, must be the 8 B
ranch-house. Screened by the trees, they waited, and presently a rider, coming
from the east, loped across the plain and pulled up. They saw him pass, heard
his hail, “Hello, the house,’ and a gruff greeting.

 
          
“Gilman, of the S P, by thunder!’
Sudden muttered, and slid
from his saddle. “I’m goin’ to take a chance; stay put—yo’re my ace in the
hole.’

 
          
There
was a window facing them, and it was partly open. Stooping and moving swiftly,
Sudden reached and crouched beneath it. Two men were within, evidently the host
and his visitor, for there was a clink of bottle against glass.

 
          
“Here’s
how, Jack,’ the gruff voice said. “An’ what brought you this way?’

 
          
“Well,
I hears yo’re dead, an’ then that you ain’t,’ Gilman replied. “Figured I’d
better come over an’ find out my chances o’ collectin’ for that hundred head I
let you lift.’

 
          
“You’ll
have to wait till I’ve sold ‘em,’ came the reply. “I was comin’ to settle when
I run into that blasted nester.’ He gave his own version of the encounter,
ending, “He took my money, hoss, an’—all.’

 
          
‘You
came back to this yer world o’ sin a day too soon; by what I hear,’ the other
chuckled.

 
          
Bardoe’s
burst of profanity betrayed his soreness.
“Made me a
laughin’-stock,’ he added. ‘
Camort’s a blunderin’ idjut. ‘Bout time we
had a sheriff whose head ain’t full of sawdust. Drait has gotta go.’

 
          
The
foreman’s voice sounded indifferent. “Not ownin’ the S P, I dunno as I care
much.’

 
          
“Why
shouldn’t you own it? If you work things right, by the time they find Pavitt’s
kid you’ll have the cash to buy, an’ the ranch that poor, he’ll be glad to
sell.’

 
          
“Shore
is an idea.’

 
          
‘Skittles!
Don’t pretend I’m tellin’ you anythin’. Count me
on yore side, an’ I reckon that goes for Cullin an’ Vasco, none of us wants a
stranger buttin’ in here.’

 
          
“I’m
obliged,’ Gilman replied. “Well, I’ll be taggin’ along.’

 
          
The
eavesdropper at the window took the hint and regained cover without delay. He
grinned when he saw that Yorky had his rifle out. They watched the visitor
depart, and then followed suit, taking a more southerly line.

 
          
“If
we can find the Double V ranch-house we’ll mebbe put a kink in Mister Bardoe’s
rope,’ Sudden explained.

 
          
They
covered some half-dozen miles and then the scattered cattle they encountered
advised them that they were on the right range. Suddenly a horseman emerged
from a clump of brush. He had a rifle across his knees, and his face, though
hard and suspicious, was not aggressive. Apparently their interest in the
grazing cows had aroused his curiosity.

 
          
“You
fellas lookin’ for anythin’?’ he asked mildly.

 
          
“Why,
we’re kind o’ searchin’ for the Double V ranch-house,’ Sudden replied.

 
          
“Three
mile further on. If yo’re
wantin’
Vasco, you’ve found
him. What’s yore trouble?’

 
          
“It
ain’t our’n, but I’ll explain,’ the puncher said. Getting down, he trod a bit
of sand level, and with his finger drew on it the Double X brand. “Who owns
that iron about here?’

 
          
“Nobody
as I
knows
of. Why?’

 
          
“We’ve
seen cows wearin’ it,’ Sudden told him. “The odd thing was that the upper half
o’ the brand was old, an’ the lower added today.’ He swept a toe over the
latter, and stepped back. “Easy done’ ain’ it?’

 
          
The
rancher swore. “Where’d you see them cattle?’

 
          
“Bout
six mile o’ here, bearin’ north; they was mixed with some 8 B steers.’

 
          
Vasco
swore again. “I’ll git some o’ the boys an’ we’ll look into this straightaway.’

 
          
Sudden
hoisted himself into his saddle. ‘Yo’re playin’ the wrong card,’ he suggested. “He’ll
plead ignorance; you know
,
we could have done the
blottin, for reasons of our own. No, sir, yore game is to keep cases an’ catch
him red-handed.’

 
          
The
rancher considered this for a moment; something he had heard recurred to him;
he studied the pair more closely, and suspicion grew in his eyes. “You ridin’
for Drait?’ he asked, and when Sudden nodded, went on. “Mebbe yo’re right—I’d
better hold off an’ collect evidence my own self.’

 
          
“Shore,’
the puncher smiled. “An’ don’t forget I’ve been tellin’ yo to do that very
thing. Yore friend in the scrub is gettin’ impatient. What’s the matter with
him?
Modest—or somethin’?’

 
          
The
red crept up under the tan on Vasco’s face; he had been ounplayed. “It’s my
foreman—he ain’t usually careless,’ he said. “
Hi, Pawley!’

 
          
A
tall, lean rider came out of the bushes, a somewhat sheepish expression on his
craggy countenance; no man likes being caught in an undignified position.
Sudden noted the long nose, high cheek-bones, and steady eyes; they told him
something.

 
          
“Meet
two o’ the Shadow Valley boys,’ Vasco said, and looked a question. Sudden
supplied their names, and the foreman shook hands.

 
          
“You
got a keen eye, Mister,’ he complimented.

 
          
“Mostly
guess-work,’ Sudden replied. “I figured yore boss wouldn’t tackle two armed
strangers ‘less he had help handy.’

 
          
“Huh!
You don’t know him,’ Pawley grunted.
“Takes too many damn
chances.’
Then he grinned. “We Texans do git around, don’t we?’

 
          
Sudden
returned the grin. “Brother, yu said it; we follow the longhorns.’

 
          
“When
you’ve finished slammin’ me an’ swappin’ childhood memories, Pawley, you might
as well hear the news,’ Vasco chimed in.

 
          
The
foreman’s face lengthened as he listened. “Well, we’re losin’ ‘em—a steady
leak,’ he admitted. “I’d say Green has the right notion—we gotta be shore. I’ve
allus told you, Vic, that iron o’ yores is a rank temptation—Double M, Two
Diamond; oh, hell it’s as easy as turnin’ over.’

 
          
“I
put it on the first cow I ever owned,’ the rancher said stubbornly.

 
          
“An’
it’ll go on the last if you ain’t careful,’ was the sardonic retort.