Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 06 - Sudden Gold-Seeker(1937) (13 page)

 
          
“So
you got tired of punching cows?”

 
          
“I
allus was a restless fella—never could stay put nohow,” he replied.

 
          
She
made one or two tentative efforts to probe into his past, but the puncher was
on his guard and she learned nothing. As they rode through the town more than
one pair of envious eyes followed them; Lora Lesurge had plenty of admirers.
Paul, from the shelter of the Monte, saw them pass.

 
          
“Good,
she’s hooked him,” he muttered.

 
          
When
they reached the house, Sudden lifted her down and carried her in. He declined
to stay, though she urged that her brother would wish to thank him.

 
          
“It
don’t
need speakin’ of,” he told her. Mary Ducane had
come in and was regarding him with something very like repulsion. “Gerry is up
in the gulch there all alone.”

 
          
“You
are anxious about your friend?” Lora asked.

 
          
The
cowboy detected the sneer. “I don’t have many, so I gotta take care of ‘em,” he
smiled. “Gerry’s a pretty ornery cuss, but I’d hate to find some wandering
war-whoop had
took
a fancy to his curly locks.” He
noted the younger girl’s instant look of alarm and smothered a grin as he took
his leave.

 
          
“It
doesn’t seem to trouble him,” Mary remarked, and seeing she was not understood,
“I mean, killing that man.” This, though the girl did not know it, was a
home-thrust for her companion.

 
          
“Why
should it?” Lora retorted. “The fellow purposely picked a quarrel as an excuse
for shooting him. Did you expect Green to let him do it?”

 
          
“I
suppose not, but it is—terrible,” was the lame reply. Lora shrugged her
shoulders.

 
          
“Nothing
of the kind,” she said callously. “This is a lawless land and bloodthirsty
brutes like Logan—he had already murdered ten men—must be dealt with. All this
claptrap about the sacredness of human life makes me tired; when men behave
like mad dogs they must be treated as such.” Mary, Western-bred, knew that, to
a large extent, she was right, but it was somewhat of a shock to hear a young
and lovely woman express such a drastic doctrine.

 
          
When
Sudden returned to the claim he found a very impatient partner awaiting him.

 
          
“Yu
took yore time,” was the greeting he received.

 
          
“Did
yu expect a lady with a sprained ankle to gallop?” was the sarcastic retort.

 
          
“S’pose not.
How
d’yu
get her on
the hoss, Jim?”

 
          
“Made
him lie down,” Sudden grinned. “To tell yu the
truth ”

 
          
“Don’t
strain yoreself,” the other begged.

 
          
“I
don’t savvy the game,” Sudden continued. “She stampeded her pony and her ankle
ain’t damaged
none
whatever.”

 
          
“She’s
fell in love with yu, Jim, an’ I’ll bet brother Paul don’t know neither.”

 
          
“Talk
sense—the whole town saw us ride in.”

 
          
“That’s
so. Shore looks as if he’s in on it. Was Miss Ducane pleased to see yu?”

 
          
“I’ve
had warmer welcomes,” was the sardonic admission. Gerry laughed delightedly.

 
          
“She’s
one fine girl,” he exulted. “I’m goin’ to marry her.” Sudden stared at him in
undisguised amazement. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said, and heedless of the
other’s cordial agreement, continued, “Have yu informed the lady or is it to be
a surprise?”

 
          
“I
done
told
her—right away.”

 
          
“An’
yu still live?” Gerry grinned widely. “I lit out before the storm broke,” he
confessed.

 
          
“No
wonder she treated me like I was an infectious disease,” was Sudden’s comment.

 
          
It
was the second evening after Lora’s adventure that Sudden encountered her
brother. He and Gerry were in the Paris when Paul came up to them.

 
          
“Green,
I want to thank you for coming to my sister’s aid,” he said. “It might have
proved serious.”

 
          
“Nothin’
to that,” the puncher replied. “But she didn’t oughta been there.”

 
          
“So
I told her, but Lora is of a daring disposition,” Paul answered. “It takes a
lot to scare her.”

 
          
“I
hope her foot is mendin’,” Sudden said politely.

 
          
“Better
call and ask—women expect that sort of attention, you know,” Lesurge smiled.

 
          
Sudden
looked at his companion, of whom no notice had been taken. “That’s a bet we
overlooked, Gerry. We’ll pay that visit to-morrow.” Paul’s face darkened—he was
getting more than he bargained for, but his tone showed no trace of annoyance:

 
          
“Lora
will be pleased to see you, Green, and remember, if I can do anything … We
Waysiders ought to hang together.” The cowboy’s eyes twinkled. “Well, Mister
Lesurge,” he drawled, “
if
it comes to hangin’ I dunno
that company’d be any comfort to me.” Lesurge studied him sharply for a moment,
then decided it was a joke, and laughed as he went.

 
          
They
paid the promised visit in the morning but Gerry’s courage failed him at the
last moment and he elected to wait outside, in the hope—as he was careful to
explain—that Mary would come out and he would have her to himself; the excuse
elicited a sardonic “Oh, yeah” from his companion. He was doomed to be
disappointed, for he saw no sign of the lady.

 
          
Lora,
reclining gracefully on a couch, received the visitor with a smile of reproof.
Her foot was better, she told him; in fact, had he delayed his inquiry a
little, it would have been quite well.

 
          
“Just
a trifling strain, after all,” she said. “I’m afraid I made too much of it. I
hope you found your friend still in possession of his hair?” Sudden assured her
on that point and sat fidgeting with his hat, wishing himself anywhere else.
The fine furniture, rugs, pictures, and the deft touches which betrayed the
hand of a woman, only made him uncomfortable; he was supremely conscious of his
rough attire.

 
          
“There
are cigarettes on the table and I will join you,” she said.
“One
of my many vices.”

 
          
He
held a light for her and helped himself to one of the “tailor-made” smokes. He
had met other women who used tobacco but they had been very different from this
dazzling but essentially feminine creature. He fought against the spell she was
weaving, reminded himself that she had deceived him, but he was young and youth
will forgive much to a pretty woman. And she was more than that, for she had
the dark, exotic beauty which goes to men’s heads like strong wine. In her
dainty draperies, curled up among the cushions, and with her soft, purring
voice, there was something feline about her.

 
          
“I
am sick to death of this dreadful town, but my brother has big interests, so I
must stay,” she told him. “He thinks the possibilities are unlimited.” Sudden
hid his smile; they certainly were for an unscrupulous person. “I’d say he’s
right, ma’am,” he replied.

 
          
“Of
course, he’ll have to get good men to help him,” she went on. “Paul is
wonderful,

but
… ” She gestured with a slim, white hand.

 
          
The
cowboy began to see light. Having failed to remove him, was he now to be used?

 
          
That
was a game two could play at. He put on a particularly wooden expression.

 
          
“One
fella can’t do it all,” he agreed.

 
          
“My
brother is generous to those who serve him,” she murmured softly. “I too like
to more than pay a debt.” The warmth in tone and look promised much, but the
visitor, convinced that he had solved the problem, was himself again, cold,
insensible to the glamour of her beauty.

 
          
But
since he must not let her see this, stupidity was the safest card to play.

 
          
“Good
work shorely deserves good pay,” he observed fatuously.

 
          
To
his surprise, she dropped the subject and after one or two commonplaces, held
out her hand.

 
          
“We
must meet again,” she said. “You interest me.” When he had gone, she rose and
crossed to a mirror. “What is the matter with me?” she murmured. “Is he really
dumb, or …?”

 
          
Apparently
satisfied with the reflection in the glass she curtseyed to it mockingly. “We
shall see, Mister Sudden; you may be a wonder with a six-shooter but Cupid can
beat you with his bow and arrow—damn you.” Had the cowboy seen her at that
moment, the God of Love’s shaft would have sadly missed its aim. All her beauty
could not make a woman with such an expression desirable.

 
          
But
Sudden was riding up the street, repeating for the third time that he had not seen
Miss Ducane. He gave his explanation of Lora’s interest and Gerry’s eyes grew
round.

 
          
“They
wanta rope yu into their plans?” he said.
“But why?”

 
          
“Mebbe
they need a fast gun-slinger,” Sudden said bitterly. “I’m knowed too, an’ if
anythin’ goes wrong with those same plans, I’ll be left holdin’ the bag.”

 
          
“What
yu mean to do, Jim?”

 
          
“I’m
takin’ a hand,”
came
the grim reply.

 
          
“We
are,” the other corrected.

 
          
Sudden
expressed a doubt. “Lesurge don’t like you. Yo’re young, yu got a face a girl
might get used to—in time, an’ he has his own ideas, I figure, about Miss
Ducane’s future.”

 
          
Gerry’s
comment, a poor tribute to his upbringing, set out clearly and vividly, his
ideas regarding the future of Paul Lesurge.

 
          
“Cussin’
never cured anythin’,” Sudden said philosophically. “We gotta wait for the next
move in the game.” They were not kept long in suspense; it had already been
made. As they crossed the little stream which descended from their claim,
Sudden noticed that the water was muddy.

 
          
“Somebody’s
workin’ near us,” he remarked.

 
          
Breasting
the slope, they soon reached the spot. Three men were busily washing sand from
the bed of the rivulet. They ceased as the riders emerged from the trees, their
hands going to their guns, only to fall away again when Sudden slid from-his
saddle and stepped towards them.
Blue-shirted miners, neither
young nor old, of the type which could be seen by the hundred in the vicinity
at any hour of the day or night, with rugged, hard, but not unpleasant faces.

 
          
“What’s
the bright notion, jumpin’ our claim this away?” the puncher asked.

 
          
The
oldest of the three, who sported a grey beard, replied:

 
          
“We
didn’t know it was your’n.” His tone was almost apologetic, and Sudden knew
that, for once, his evil reputation was helping him. “You ain’t staked no
claim, nor recorded her, an’ she’s anybody’s ground.” The cowboys grinned wryly
at one another; this was a detail they had overlooked.