Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 06 - Sudden Gold-Seeker(1937) (18 page)

 
          
“I
too know Green,” Hickok said loudly. “He is not the kind to commit cowardly
crimes.”

 
          
This
pronouncement finished the discussion so far as the Paris was concerned, but in
the other saloons the matter was being fiercely commented on and the puncher
was already adjudged guilty and condemned. The only other topic which vied with
it in importance was the disappearance of Miss Lesurge. At first Paul had
accepted her absence with a quiet confident smile.

 
          
“Lora
can take care of herself,” he said.

 
          
But
when the second day passed and he learned that Green was also missing, he
became uneasy, and sent out searchers to comb the district; they returned
without news.

 
          
“Mebbe
they’ve run away to git hitched,” Snowy suggested. Paul’s eyes flashed, but he
smiled. “Forty dollars a month wouldn’t keep Lora in shoe-leather,” he said. “But
of course, he knows where your mine is.” The old man looked alarmed for a
moment, and then replied stoutly,

 
          
“Jim
wouldn’t do a thing like that—he’s white.”

 
          
“According
to what they’re saying in town he’s as black as Satan’s soul,” Lesurge
contradicted.

 
          
Though
he had scoffed at it, Snowy’s guess returned to him when he was alone, and
brought a heavy frown to his brow. Pacing up and down the room, he weighed the
pros and cons, and knowing Lora’s tempestuous nature, had to admit that it was
possible.

 
          
“She
wouldn’t dare,” he muttered, and knew he lied.

 
          
Meanwhile,
in the kidnappers’ camp, the prisoners were playing for time. In the morning,
their leader paid Sudden another visit, bringing the lady with him. The night’s
rest, a wash in a nearby spring, a few deft touches to hair and dress, had
transformed her into a different person, and the puncher saw admiration in
their gaoler’s eyes when she greeted her companion in captivity with a gay
smile. But the fellow’s voice was gruff when he asked:

 
          
“Any new ideas this mornin’?”

 
          
“Nary
a one,” Sudden told him. “
Yo’re
what a friend o’ mine
calls `stale-mated.’ Murderin’ me won’t get yu what yo’re after, an’ lettin’ me
live won’t neither.”

 
          
“I
ain’t so shore. There’s means to make a man open his mouth—if it’s on’y to
squeal.”

 
          
“Go
right ahead.”

 
          
“I’m
aimin’ to. When I’ve done with you—”

 
          
“Yu’ll
be wise as before—still dumb.” With an oath the man turned away, but Lora drew
him aside.

 
          
“Have
you no sense at all?” she asked sharply. “Can’t you see the type you are
dealing with? He’s as obstinate as a mule and torture won’t move him.”

 
          
“He’s
a tough hombre, all right, as some of us has reason to know,” the man growled, “but
s’pos’n the—persuasion—is applied to you?” The woman’s cheeks became a shade
paler at this diabolic suggestion but she answered steadily: “It would make no
difference—he’s not my lover, and these gunmen have no feelings. Besides”—and
her glance was soft, caressing—“you wouldn’t do anything to hurt me—Hank.”

 
          
“Who
gave you my name?” he asked suspiciously.

 
          
“I
heard one of the others call you,” she explained. “You don’t mind my knowing,
do you?” He muttered a curse and through the slits in the mask his greedy gaze
roamed over her, from the slender feet in their trim riding-boots to the felt
hat set jauntily on the wealth of glossy black hair. She endured the scrutiny
with a
reliant
smile.

 
          
“Well?”
she asked.

 
          
“Yo’re
a good-looker, for shore,” he admitted. “What’s yore plan?”

 
          
“Leave
our friend to me,” she replied. “I can make him see reason, but it will take
time, and we must be together.”

 
          
“How much time?”

 
          
“Several
days probably—he’s not easy.”

 
          
“An’
while I’m waitin’, Ducane gits the mine,” he objected.

 
          
“Sudden’s
his friend—he won’t start without him,” she urged, and then smiled. “Are you so
eager to part with me?” A muffled laugh came from behind the mask. “When we go
after the gold
yo’re
comin’ along, my beauty. Well, I’m
givin’ you two days; if you ain’t turned the trick by then, it’ll be for me to
try.” With the ominous threat ringing in her ears Lora went back-to the
puncher, who had watched the conversation with some impatience. He could not
hear what was said but he guessed the woman was pleading for him, and did not
like the idea

 
          
“We
have two days,” she said, as she sat down. “Two little days to bewitch you with
my poor charms and, like a modern Delilah, betray you to your enemies.” She
spoke jestingly, but ended on a bitter note. “And the fool believes that I will
try.”

 
          
“I’m
obliged to yu, ma’am,
but ”
Sudden began.

 
          
“Don’t
be stupid,” she said sharply. “I was merely thinking of myself. With you
crippled by torture, what chance have I of escaping from these wretches?” And
then her manner changed.

 
          
“Sorry,
Jim, I didn’t mean to be snappy,” she finished.

 
          
“What
we gotta think about is hoodwinkin’ these smarties an’ slidin’ outa here,” he
said.

 
          
That
day passed and the next, without any opening presenting itself. Always watched,
they could not tamper with their bonds in daylight, and at nightfall the woman
was conducted back to the shelter. Dusk found them sitting in the old spot,
glum, dispirited.

 
          
“We
must do something,” Lora said desperately. “Hank will want his answer tonight.

 
          
The
beast is beginning to think he owns me. Isn’t it possible to free ourselves?”

 
          
“Tied
up like this, undoin’
them
knots needs a lot o’ time
an’ we ain’t got it. If we on’y had a knife.”

 
          
“A
knife?” she whispered. “Heavens, what a fool I am. I always carry one, and they
never thought to search me.” Her bound hands fumbled at the bosom of her dress
and then dropped. “I can’t get it, Jim,” she said. “You try.” She bent towards
him, and in the fading light he saw the gleam of a white throat and felt her
shiver as his groping fingers touched the soft silken softness of her skin.
Then they closed on the haft of a tiny Spanish dagger and drew it from the
sheath. A mere three inches of steel sharp-pointed and keen-edged as a razor,
it was a toy, but a terrible one. Sudden glanced across the glade. Two men only
were squatting by the fire. In a few moments it would be dark. Hank was late.

 
          
He
stooped and cut loose the girl’s bonds, and when she had done the same for him,
slipped the weapon into the top of his right-hand boot, where it would be
easily accessible. Then he saw one of the men stand up and stretch
himself
.

 
          
“Follow
me,” he whispered. “Tread as lightly as yu can.” Swiftly they melted into the
darkness of the pines. Slipping like shadows between the slender trunks of the
trees they con trived to reach the other side of the glade. So far their
absence did not appear to have been discovered.

 
          
“I’m
goin’ to try for my guns,” Sudden whispered. “Wait.” Before she could voice a
protest, a man going towards the camp almost stepped on them. His cry of alarm
died in his throat as a blow like a flung stone took him on the point of the
jaw. Sudden caught the falling body and lowered it to the ground. His hands
were busy for a moment and when he spoke the girl knew that he was amused.

 
          
“Thoughtful
o’ Hank to bring my guns,” he murmured “He was wearin’ em, an’ my hat an’
chaps. Was he the fella that fetched yu here?”

 
          
“He
might have been,” she replied.

 
          
“It
don’t
signify. Hank’ll be good an’ quiet for a spell
an’ I reckon the rest won’t start anythin’ till he turns up.” They tramped on
through seemingly endless aisles of pines and at length reached an open space.
The puncher studied the sky and swore softly.

 
          
“Not
a blame’ star to steer by,” he said. “We’ll have to wait for sunrise to get a
direction.

 
          
Better
keep a-movin’ though.” For another hour they struggled on. Speed was out of the
question for there was no trail, and, in the dark, it was impossible to avoid
difficulties. Thorny thickets, scrub-covered ridges, steep-sided stony ravines,
jumbled together in bewildering confusion were encountered and had to be
overcome, and after a time even the cowboy—wiry and tough as rawhide —was
beginning to feel the strain. And he knew that his companion must be nearly
dead, but he dared not stop; at the best, he reckoned they could only have
covered a few miles, and if they had circled … Daybreak was at hand when the
girl finally slumped down on a fallen tree-trunk.

 
          
They
had been descending a wide, stony slope covered with prickly scrub and trees.

 
          
Now,
from higher up, came the crack of a rifle and a small cloud of smoke showed
against the foliage. Lora clutched her companion’s arm.

 
          
“They
ain’t shootin’ at us yet,” he reassured. “That pill went over our heads was
just an invite to stay an’ be catched. We ain’t acceptin’.”

 
          
“Is
it—Hank?” she asked, and when he nodded, added viciously, “You should have
killed him.”

 
          
“I
expect yo’re right, but I never did like stickin’ pigs.” He had been examining
their surroundings and his quick eye picked out the place he wanted. “C’mon.”
Unhurriedly he set out for it, the crest of a ridge, the approach to which was
too bare to afford cover for attack.

 
          
Lora
followed, the fear of being retaken spurring her, but soon she was lagging
behind, and then—when they were no more than half-way—she dropped. Somewhat to
her surprise, the puncher came back.

 
          
“I’m
sorry, but my limbs won’t take me another step,” she groaned.

 
          
“That’s
the worst o’ them ornamental legs,” he sneered.

 
          
Like
the lash of a whip the brutal jeer fetched her to her feet. With fists clenched
and teeth clamped she lurched onwards, blind to everything save that she must
keep moving. She did not see the pitying eyes of the man who strode beside her.
So they came to the foot of the incline and there she collapsed like a pricked
bladder.

 
          
Sudden
saw that she could do no more. Bending, he lifted her and staggered up the
ascent. She was heavier than he had thought, and before long, his already tired
muscles were throbbing with the pain of over-exertion. A bullet spat into the ground
a few feet away, and, as if the report had awakened her, the girl opened her
eyes. When she realized what was happening her head snuggled into his shoulder
and her lips parted. Staring straight in front, Sudden plodded doggedly on,
and, reaching the top at last, allowed his burden to stand up.

 
          
“Glad
to be rid of me, Jim?” she asked archly.

 
          
“I
shore am,” was the ungallant reply. “Get behind that rock there—these hombres
will be sendin’ somethin’ more than invitations soon.” Even as he spoke, another
bullet whined over their heads and the puncher laughed as he dived behind the
outcrop of stone he had pointed out.