Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 10 - Sudden Plays a Hand(1950) (12 page)

 
          
This
was an invitation Seale never refused, especially from one who had paid
handsomely for nothing. He locked the safe, then the door, and preceded them
down the stairway. Yorky followed, and they were nearly at the bottom when the
boy slipped, clutched at the lawyer to save himself, and they finished in a
heap on the floor. No damage resulted, and the culprit was profuse in his
apologies.

 
          
“These
damned high heels ain’t made for steps,’ he lamented, and when they reached the
street, “Jim, I ain’t much on liquor, an’ I want smokin’ an’ feed for my gun.
You goin’ across
th
’ road? Right, I’ll be along.’

 
          
Sudden
nodded, and followed the lawyer into the saloon. “A good kid, but kind o’
young,’ he excused.

 
          
“Plenty
of us would like to suffer from his complaint,’ the man of law smirked, and
raised his glass. “Here’s how, and I’m sorry your errand has ended in failure.’

 
          
The
puncher shrugged. “Fella can’t allus score,
specially
with long shots,’ he said. “I expect yu’ve lost cases yoreself.’

 
          
“A
few—long shots,’ Seale admitted. “Staying in town?’

 
          
“I
guess we’ll mosey along,’ Sudden replied, as he called for a second round. “That
boy should show up soon.’

 
          
“He’ll
be all right—the place is quiet at this time of the day. Why, there he is, at
the door.’

 
          
Yorky
was outside, with the horses, and having parted from the lawyer, they mounted
and rode out of the town. Sudden asked no questions until they were clear, and
then: “
What’s
the hurry, son?’ For Yorky was casting
an anxious eye to the rear from time to time.

 
          
“That
fella was lyin’, Jim.’

 
          
“Yo’re
tellin’ me. Why did yu wanta see that fool letter?’

 
          
“I
didn’t, but I wanted to know where he kept his keys,’ was the surprising
answer.

 
          
Sudden
looked at him severely.
“Yu been drinkin’?’

 
          
“No—thinkin’,’
Yorky replied. “You see, Jim, I had a hunch there was somethin’ in
th
’ safe he wouldn’t show us, an’ I figured if I could get
at th’ right pocket….’

 
          
He
paused, furtively scanning his companion’s face, but it told him nothing.
Sudden was remembering that slip on the stairs, the long, slim fingers of this
waif from the underworld of a big city—fingers which could manipulate cards
with the dexterity of a magician. But he was not one to probe into the murky
past of a friend; there had been episodes in his own….

 
          
“I
was a pretty good “dip” but I give it up after I run into Clancy,’ the boy went
on, rather shamedly. “I could ‘a’ cleaned him, but honest, Jim, I on’y borried
th
’ keys.’ He was obviously scared that the man he most
admired in all the world would not approve.

 
          
Sudden’s
slow smile was back again. “Shucks, I ain’t blamin’ yu. Anythin’ goes, when
yo’re fightin’ a rogue. What did yu find?’

 
          
“A letter from a woman livin’ at Deepridge, offerin’ information
‘bout Mary Pavitt; ‘peared to be in answer to an advertisement.
In was
signed “Sarah Wilson”.’

 
          
“Thought
he warn’t exactly emptyin’ his bag,’ was Sudden’s comment. “Yu left the
letter?’

 
          
“Figured it was wiser.
But here’s one I fetched away.’

 
          
The
document was brief and to the point. Sudden whistled softly as he read it:

 
          
“Dear
Seale,

 
          
Confirming
our conversation this morning, I am prepared to pay five thousand dollars for
the S P ranch, and to take the stock at eight dollars per head. If you can
arrange this your fee will be one thousand, cash. This is my final offer.

 
          
Gregory Cullin.’

 
          
The
puncher folded the letter and stowed it away. “Great work, son,’ he
complimented. “I’d give somethin’ to see Seale’s face when he discovers his
keys is missin’. What you do with ‘em?’

 
          
“Left
‘em on th’ stairs where we tumbled; he may think they just dropped out’n his
pocket.’

 
          
“Mebbe,
if he
don’t
search his safe too careful. Anyway, the
sooner we get this in a good hiding-place, the better. I’ve a notion it’ll come
in mighty useful, but for the present we’ll keep it under our hats; it’s sound
policy sometimes to let the other fella move first.’

 
          
“I
saw somebody we know in Rideout, an’ he didn’t wanta be seen,’ Yorky said. “
Beau Lamond.’

 
          
The
devil yu did?’ “Yeah, just after I left Seale’s place; he was comin’ towards it
an’ a’most jumped into a store when he catched sight o’ me.’ “Didn’t strike me
as sufferin’ from modesty,’ Sudden said. “If he
don’t
mention it, we won’t neither.’

 
          
THE
Big C ranch was the most important of those in the neighbourhood of Midway.
This was due, not to its size, but to the forceful personality of its owner.
Gregory
Cullin
, not yet forty, and unmarried,
possessed a profound contempt for humanity, and an equally deep belief that
everything comes to he who takes. His tall, compactly-built, powerful frame,
frowning brows and thick, pouting lips gave him an aggressive appearance. He
was subject to violent fits of rage, but few suspected he used them as a weapon
to gain an end, and that beneath the wildest was a cold calculating brain,
functioning as usual.

 
          
The
ranch-house resembled the man, roughly but strongly fashioned. It was not
large, but roomy inside, and the plain furniture was comfortable, but only
that. It was said that Cullin, asked why he did not indulge in a more luxurious
home, replied: “
This
ain’t a home, on’y the workshop
in which to make my pile.’

 
          
On
the evening of the day after Sudden’s visit to Rideout, a meeting took place at
the Big C. Gilman, Bardoe, and the sheriff had arrived, and they awaited one
other. Despite the blazing fire, whisky and cigars on the table, the guests did
not seem to be at ease, and Cullin’s face had an expression little like that of
a genial host.

 
          
“Where
in hell’s Vic?’ he asked petulantly.

 
          
This
being the third time he had put the question, no one had any answer to offer. A
moment later came the tramp of a horse outside, a heavy step in the passage,
and the owner of the Double V entered, flung his hat and quirt into one chair,
and seated himself in another.

 
          
“Howdy,
fellas,’ he greeted, poured himself a drink, and reached for a smoke.

 
          
“What’s
been keepin’ you?’ Cullin demanded.

 
          
“Business—my
business,’ Vasco replied curtly. “Why are we meetin’?’

 
          
“Somethin’
has to be done about that fella Drait.’

 
          
“Is
he doin’ any harm?’

 
          
“He’s
a nester, an’ therefore a cattle-thief,’ Bardoe put in.

 
          
“You
say so,’ Vasco retorted. “But all cattle-thieves ain’t nesters.’

 
          
Bardoe
scowled but was silent, and Cullin’s impatient voice dismissed the argument: “What
he is or does don’t matter, he’s been told to go, an’ has gotta go.
Any suggestions Vic?’

 
          
“Yeah,
leave him alone. He’s bought the land an’ is entitled to live on it, so long as
he
don’t
interfere. How much o’ yore range do you own,
Greg?’

 
          
The
Big C man flushed at this home-thrust, for, as Vasco well knew, he had no title
even to the ground his buildings occupied. “What’s that gotta do with it, an’
is it any o’ yore affair what I own?’ he snarled. “God damn yore impudence,
I’ve a mind—’

 
          
Vasco’s
eyes narrowed. “Then use it, an’ keep yore temper,’ he said. “These fits o’
yores may impress the scum on yore pay-roll, but I ain’t ridin’ for you an’ you
can’t ride me. As for drivin’ Drait out, hangin’ a crippled cowboy ain’t the
way.’

 
          
“That
was a mistake,’ Cullin said, aware that he had gone too far. “The men exceeded
their instructions.’

 
          
Vasco’s
laugh was contemptuous. “Don’t try to tell me you weren’t there, because I know
different. You an’ the same brave fellas who shot down the Rawlin kid. You ain’t
listenin’, o’ course, Camort.’

 
          
“I
ain’t believin’
it,’ the sheriff said doggedly.

 
          
“I
take it you ain’t helpin’ us in this,’ Bardoe remarked.

 
          
“You
take it correct,’ was the quiet reply. “Prove to me that Drait is stealing my
cows an’ mebbe I’ll take another view.’

 
          
“He
has a hundred head, calves an’ yearlin’s, in the Valley. Any o’ you know where
he got ‘em?’ Cullin asked, and getting no reply, went on, “There’s a gal, too;
know anythin’ about that?’ Bardoe looked black and Gilman laughed meaningly,
but no one answered. “Hell,’ Cullin continued, “
Do
I
have to gather news as well as think for you all?’

 
          
“Don’t
trouble on my account,’ Vasco said bluntly. “For the rest, I’m with you in any
move which doesn’t break the Law.’

 
          
“We
got the Law—such as it is—on our side,’ Gilman pointed out, with a jeering grin
at the sheriff.

 
          
“Which
is one damned good thing for some o’ you,’ that worthy summoned up courage to
say.

 
          
The
Big C man’s brows came together. “Camort,’ he said, and there was the rasp of a
file in his tone. “
who
do you think would be the best
man to fill yore place?’

 
          
Camort
collapsed like a punctured bladder. “Why, Mister Cullin, I ain’t done nothin’.’
he stammered.

 
          
“You
said it,’ the rancher snapped. “An’ a man who does nothin’ is no use to us; we
want results.’

 
          
“I
had it all fixed,’ the sheriff protested, with a malevolent glare at Bardoe.

 
          
“You
made a sad error,’ Vasco laughed. “When you wanta hang a man for murder it’s
usual to have a corpse; you should ‘a’ killed Bull first, an’ made yore case
good.’

 
          
Cullin,
satisfied with the crushing of Camorn, applied himself to the more important
rebel. “Quit foolin’, Vic,’ he said testily. “This ain’t a laughin’ matter.’

 
          
“I
think it is, an’ Midway agrees,’ Vasco retorted, as he got up. “Take my
advice—go slow with Drait; he’s an awkward mouthful an’ has useful help.
So long.’

 
          
Now
what’s he mean by that?’ Bardoe
questioned,
when the
Double V rancher had gone.

 
          
“I
dunno, but Vic droppin’ out thisaway makes a difference,’ Cullin admitted. “He’s
right in one thing—we’ll have to take our time an’ plan careful.’

 
          
“It
shouldn’t be difficult to plant some Double V cows in Shadow Valley,’ Bardoe
suggested.