Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 06 - Sudden Gold-Seeker(1937) (26 page)

 
          
What
is it?” as an attendant approached.

 
          
The
man whispered something and Stark went with him to the door. In a few moments
he returned.

 
          
“Just
had word that Jacob was beaten up an’ his cabin ransacked the night after the
hold-up,” he informed them. “What d’you make o’ that?”

 
          
“Suppose
he was concerned in the robbery, Green returns, and they quarrel,” Paul
surmised.

 
          
“Why
should Green come back?” Eddy asked. “If he wanted to double-cross Jacob, he’d
on’y to stay away—he’s got the goods. No, gents, we won’t see that fella any
more, I’ll betcha.”

 
          
“What
will you wager, Mister Eddy?” Lora laughed.

 
          
He
followed the direction of her eyes and started to his feet, staring in
ludicrous amazement.

 
          
“Holy
Smoke!” he breathed. “There’s the man hisself.” Sudden and his friend had just
entered the saloon. Despite the precautions to secure secrecy, someone had
chattered, and it was generally known that the stage had been waylaid and that
the cowboys were the culprits. All heads were turned towards them and a hush
fell over the assembly as they stepped unconcernedly to the bar; the music
stopped, the dancers stood still, the gamblers paused in their games, and even
the gayest of the girls ceased her prattle.

 
          
“Well
you gotta hand it to him for nerve,” one whispered. “Mebbe he thinks it ain’t
knowed,” his neighbour said. “He’s liable to git a surprise. Would you look at
Reub’s face?” In fact, the saloonkeeper, pop-eyed and purple, appeared to be on
the verge of an apoplectic seizure as he glared at the man he expected never to
see again. On Lesurge the cowboy’s advent produced the numbing effect of a
blow. What was his game? Why had he not come to him first?

 
          
Surely
he could not be hoping to get away with such a colossal bluff? The fool was
walking to his own funeral. Paul shrugged his shoulders; provided he could get
from him where the plunder was hidden …

 
          
Apparently
indifferent to the interest his arrival was arousing,
Sudden
,
nodding to men he knew, made his way to Stark’s table. His eyes narrowed when
he saw the women, but he swept his hat off, and spoke to their host.

 
          
“Can
I have a word with yu, seh?”

 
          
“You
can—right now,” Stark snapped. “An’ don’t try any funny business or you’ll git
too much lead in yore system.” The puncher glanced around; a dozen of the men
sitting near were covering him with their pistols. With a smile of contempt, he
folded his arms.

 
          
“The
funny business ‘pears to be comin’ from yu,” he said. “Cut it short,” Stark
bawled.

 
          
“Why
are you here?”

 
          
“You
hired us to go with the stage,” was the reply. “I’m here to report.”

 
          
“We’re
listenin’,” Stark growled.

 
          
“They
were layin’ for us a piece along the trail,” Sudden began. “They downed the
lead hosses, shot the driver an’ messenger.” He did not say whose work this
was; he believed he had killed Lem and he had an account to settle with Hank. “We
stood ‘em off, harnessed our own broncs in the lead, an’got away. Later, we
patched Joe up an’ he sat on the box an’ sorta kept cases on my drivin’.”

 
          
“But
where’s the dust?” Lider asked impatiently.

 
          
“Did
yu expect me to bring it back?” was the sardonic query. “Far as I know it’s on
the way East. The express company’s fella took charge of it at Laramie.” Master
as he was in the art of cloaking his emotions, Lesurge found it difficult to
listen unmoved. Was Green lying?
he
asked himself, or
had he really played this trick upon him? He was soon to learn.

 
          
Stark’s
expression was incredulous. “You think we’d fall for that?” he sneered. “We’ve
heard a different story, my man.” Sudden bent forward and spoke quietly. “Stark,
when yu call me a liar yo’re standin’ on the lip o’ hell, an’ all that ars’nal
back o’ me couldn’t save yu.” The saloonkeeper was no coward, but those
ice-cold, implacable eyes made him shiver. He was about to stammer some excuse,
but the other saved him the trouble:

 
          
“I
knowed yu wouldn’t believe me, so I fetched—this.” Stark picked up the paper
the cowboy had thrown on the table. One glance and his face changed with
startling abruptness.

 
          
“Boys,
we’re all right,” he cried. “It’s a receipt for the gold from the company’s
agent at Laramie. Hello, what’s this?” His brows met in a puzzled frown. “‘One
box, stated to contain ten thousand dollars’ worth of dust, was filled with
lead. It was consigned in the name of Paul Lesurge’.” He looked at Sudden. “Can
you explain that?”

 
          
“When
I turned the stuff over I made the agent open the boxes an’ weigh it up.”

 
          
“Any
reason for thinkin’ there was somethin’ wrong?” Eddy inquired.

 
          
“No,
but I warn’t takin’ chances.”

 
          
“Someone
must have made the substitution,” Lesurge put in, with an accusing glance at
the puncher.

 
          
“The
agent says the seals were untouched,” Stark pointed out.

 
          
“Ah,
then I know where to look for the thief,” Paul rejoined carelessly. “1 left the
packing to one of my men.” It was well done, and for the time, it served. Lora
smothered a smile; she was not deceived. What a clever devil he was, but this
black-haired, firm-jawed young cowboy had bested, though not beaten him; she
knew Paul.

 
          
Stark
was speaking again. “Well, Green, it seems we’ve been blamin’ when we oughta be
thankin’ you. I’m takin’ it back.

 
          
Set
down an’ help yoreself.” The knowledge that his money was safe had put him in
great good humour and he was disposed to be generous. “Tell us what we can do
for you.”

 
          
“The
dead messenger has mebbe a family an’ Injun Joe won’t drive for quite a while,”

 
          
Sudden
said.

 
          
“We’ll
see to that,” Lider promised. “What about yourself?”

 
          
“
Me
an’ Gerry took this on to oblige Jacob, an’ we ain’t
needin’ anythin’.”

 
          
“That’s
very well put, Green, but for myself—though by a mischance I don’t benefit by
what you have done—I feel in your debt,” Lesurge said. “I shall look forward to
squaring the account.” Sudden sensed the underlying threat and smiled. “When I
start anythin’ I like to finish it,” was his apparently inconsequent reply.

 
          
“We’ve
had bad news of the old man,” Eddy said, and told it. The puncher rose
instantly.

 
          
“I
must get along to him—he’ll be by himself,” he excused. He was about to call
Gerry, but that young man was by Mary’s side, and appeared to be enjoying himself.
So he went alone.

 
          
Gerry,
however, was having anything but a good time. As soon as he realized that it
really was Mary, he had forgotten all about their business with Stark and
promptly proceeded to where she was sitting, a little apart from the others.
Conscious that the sight of him had made her heart beat faster, she did not
speak. Gerry was too angry to notice the omission.

 
          
“What
are yu doin’ in this place?” he asked bluntly.

 
          
The
low, brusque tone offended her. “I came with my friends,” she replied coolly.

 
          
“They’d
no right to bring yu, it ain’t—decent.”

 
          
“There
are other women here.”

 
          
“Yeah,
an’ just because o’ that yu shouldn’t be,” he retorted bitterly.

 
          
She
knew it; these painted, scantily clad creatures
who
danced and drank with any man who invited them could be no warrant for her
presence. But, being a woman, the fact that he was right only increased her
resentment. This boy must be taught that she was not to be bullied.

 
          
“How
dare you presume to dictate to me?” she said haughtily, quite, as she believed,
in the best Lora Lesurge manner. But when she saw the dawning smile in Gerry’s
eyes she knew she had failed, and sought furiously for a way to punish him. “I
am here with the man I expect to marry,” she added.

 
          
“Shore
yu are, but yu didn’t know I was comin’,” he grinned.

 
          
His
amusement, anger at the false position in which he found her, and disgust with
the surroundings made her reckless. “I was referring to—Paul,” she said icily.

 
          
The
moment she had spoken the words she regretted them, but it was too late. The
mirth faded from Mason’s face and it became hard, unyouthful.

 
          
“I’m
wishin’ yu joy,” he said, and rising, stalked out of the saloon.

 
          
With
hot, miserable eyes she watched him elbow his way unceremoniously through the
clamorous crowd and vanish. Lora, who had noticed his abrupt departure, leant
over and whispered, “What have you been doing to that boy?”

 
          
“Putting
him in his place,” Mary replied. A few yards away, a girl scarcely older than
herself, had clasped her bare arms round the neck of her escort and dragged him
shouting to the bar. “Are all the saloons as horrible as this?”

 
          
“Don’t
let Stark hear you—it would break his heart,” Lora laughed. “The Monte is the
best-conducted in Deadwood.”

 
          
“Then
heaven help Deadwood,” Mary shuddered. “I wish I hadn’t come.” At which the
elder woman laughed again. “I don’t fancy Paul has enjoyed himself either,” she
said.

 
          
Which was true enough.
Outwardly calm, Lesurge was in the
frame of mind when murder becomes easy. His ready tongue had provided an
explanation of a damning circumstance. but he was fully alive to the fact that
it was a poor one—he would not have given it a moment’s credence, and though
these men were fools … Gold, in plenty, would alone repair the damage, gold to
fling about, to dazzle these boors who valued nothing else. And a girl, a crazy
old drunkard, and that cursed cowboy held the secret. But for that …

 
          
When
they returned to the cabin he beckoned Lora into the sitting-room. For a moment
he stood, his sombre eyes dwelling upon her, and then he said brutally:

 
          
“You
must be losing your looks.”

 
          
“Stark
wouldn’t agree with you,” she smiled.

 
          
“Age
doesn’t bring wisdom where women are concerned,” was the cynical reply. “Green
appears to be proof against your charms.” The woman bit her lip. “If you had
confided in me a little more, things might have gone better,” she returned
quietly. “Had I known you wanted Green to steal for you …
”

 
          
“Who
told you that?” he demanded.

 
          
“My
dear Paul,” she said scornfully. “It is perfectly obvious —to me—that you
expected Green to rob the coach, but not trusting him, you also made other
arrangements. Your double plan defeated itself, doubtless because the cowboy
saw through it; one of your weaknesses is to underrate others’ intelligence.”
Lesurge shook his head impatiently. “I had no definite agreement; I gave him as
broad a hint as I dared but apparently he failed to comprehend it. Now, listen!
In a day or so we start for the mine and Green will be with us. It will be your
opportunity to ensnare him. The fellow baffles me; I don’t know yet whether he
is simply stupid or deep, but if you can get him on our side, the game is ours.”
He smiled disagreeably. “It will not be easy, my Lora; you are hardly his type;
Mary Ducane, with her unspoiled youthfulness …” As he had intended, the insult
seared. “She’s welcome,” Lora flared. “Let her do your dirty work; I will not.”
‘You’ll obey my orders,” he replied harshly. “Green—like Hickok—is a danger,
and must be overcome.”