Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 06 - Sudden Gold-Seeker(1937) (34 page)

 
          
Meanwhile
the subject of his thoughts was being escorted back to the camp. When Hank and
Lem had been knocked flat by the smallish but decidedly bony body of Bandy, the
fourth man, Fagan, had gripped the woman’s arm.

 
          
“Tryin’
to get away an’ double-cross us, huh?” he gibed. “I reckon Paul’Il wanta see
you.”

 
          
“Take
your filthy paws off, and don’t be more of a fool than Nature made you,” she
said fiercely. “Paul himself sent me.”

 
          
“Yeah,
an’ he sent us to watch you,” was the sneering reply.

 
          
“Your
job was to take Green, and you’ve failed—as usual,” she retorted. “Better get
your excuses for that ready.” The others came up, Rodd still half-dazed from
the rough treatment he had received, and they returned to the camp. Lora went
straight to her brother. Fury at the thought that she had been used as
a bait
, for the moment, dispelled her fear.

 
          
“Since
when have your hirelings had permission to treat me like a common drab?” she
asked indignantly.

 
          
Lesurge
looked at the men. “Where’s Green?” he barked. “He got away,” Fagan muttered.

 
          
“Yes,
in spite of the fact that I was holding him when theyattacked,” Lora taunted. “Four
of them to one and—he got away.” With an evil glare at her, Fagan drew his
chief aside. She could not hear what was being said, but knew that she would
need all her resource. Paul’s expression, when he came back, told her nothing.

 
          
“The
cowboy refused my offer?”

 
          
“Of
course, after what one of these curs had done,” she answered heatedly. “Had I
known of that I would not have gone.”

 
          
“You
told him you were afraid and begged for his protection,” the cold voice
continued.

 
          
“Don’t
trouble to lie; Fagan heard all.” The woman’s brain was racing. “I had to think
of something to keep him,” she said. “I guessed your plan, and I didn’t know
the men had arrived.”

 
          
“And
you were so fearful he might escape that you put your arms about him?” Paul
persisted. Lora did not reply; she had failed. “Am I to believe that you really
desired to trap your lover?” The accusation stirred her. “He is not that,” she
denied. “If he were, you would not dare to insult me.” Lesurge lost his mask of
immobility; his face became fiendish. “Would I not?” he hissed through clenched
teeth. “You don’t know me—but you shall.” He looked at the men. “You can all
go, except Hank.” He waited until they had slouched reluctantly away, and then
turned to Lora.

 
          
“I
warned you once,” he said. “You are not only of no use but a danger to me; I am
going to get rid of you.” He read the quick dread in her staring eyes.
“Oh, not that way.”
His laugh was vile. “Hank here, finds
you attractive, I fancy.” It took the rascal a moment to comprehend, and then,
with a gloating leer, he said eagerly, “Shore, she won’t have forgot them days
in the hills.”

 
          
“I
make you a present of her,” Paul proceeded calmly.

 
          
This
outrageous act almost petrified the person it most concerned. Torn between
anger and stark fear, she could but gasp, “You are mad.”

 
          
“As
you told Green,” he reminded. “No, I was that when I trusted you; now I am sane
again.”

 
          
“You
dare not do it,” she muttered hoarsely.

 
          
“Who
is to prevent me?” he asked. “Here, I am—king.” Mary Ducane, who, with Snowy,
had been a silent spectator of this strange scene, stepped forward.

 
          
“Paul,
you must not do this terrible thing—she is your own blood,” she pleaded.

 
          
“That
is not the case,” Lesurge said deliberately.

 
          
Mary
gazed from one to the other, almost doubting her ears. Lora drew herself up
defiantly.

 
          
“I
am no sister of his,” she cried, her tone vibrant with contempt. “I am only—his
wife.”

 
          
“You
are not even that,” he retorted. “True, there was a ceremony, but the man who
performed it had no right to do so.” The icy, dispassionate statement compelled
credence. “You —devil,” she raged. “I will have your life for that.” Lesurge’s
face might have been carved in stone, a revengeful, malignant mask. He motioned
to Hank.

 
          
“Take
her away. She will need discipline; I have been too indulgent.” The brute’s
grin was bestial. “I can tame ‘em,” he said. “Had an Injun squaw once” He saw
from Paul’s expression that this was not the time for reminiscences, and
stepped towards Lora. “Come along, beauty; you an’
me
is goin’ to git better acquainted.” She had been standing like a statue, eyes
fixed on the man who had condemned her, hands clasped to her breast as though
to still the beating of her heart. Hank laid an arm about her and like a
tiger-cat she twisted in his grasp and struck at him. The fellow’s knees
sagged, his eyes rolled horribly, and with a gurgling gasp he went down.
Bending, the woman watched as life went in a last convulsive contortion, and in
a shrill, unnatural voice, cried:

 
          
“The
dog is dead; it should have been his master, but your turn will come, Paul.”
With a wild laugh, she turned and ran, disappearing into the darkness before
the paralysed onlookers could guess her intention. Fagan and the others, who
had hurried over when they heard Hank’s death-cry, stood grouped round the
body. One of them turned it over, disclosing the dagger, buried to the haft at
the base of the throat. Lesurge frowned when he saw it.

 
          
“I
forgot about that damned knife she carried,” he said. “She
shore
knowed where to put it,” Fagan observed critically. “What are we to do with the
body?”

 
          
“Bury
it, of course,” Paul snapped.

 
          
Tough
as they were, the men did not smile at the savage jest, and their sullen faces
told him it was ill-timed. He tried to make amends
:“
His
share will be split amongst you.” He got no thanks, a circumstance he was to
remember. Lem put a question about Lora.

 
          
“She’s
gone to Green, I expect,” Paul replied. “We must keep a look-out, in case they
try anything. I’ll take the first spell.” He went back to the fire. He had seen
Mary, with Snowy endeavouring to comfort her, vanish into the tent. The old
man, rolled in his blanket, was lying across the entrance. Paul’s lips curled
disdainfully at the sight.

 
          
Sunrise
found the camp astir, but Mary did not appear for the morning meal. Snowy made
her excuses:

 
          
“She
ain’t feelin’ too good, which you can’t wonder at; it warn’t a pretty sight for
a gal.”

 
          
“Nevertheless,
I must speak with her,” Paul replied. “In any case, we are leaving, and she
must come with us.”

 
          
“Leavin’?”
Snowy repeated.

 
          
“We
are going to drive those damned interlopers out and take possession,” Lesurge
explained. “Did you imagine I would let a mad woman upset my plans? Send Mary to
me, and mind your step, if you want to go on living.” Presently the girl joined
him; her face was pale and weary, but there was
a
resoluteness
in her bearing. Paul’s manner had none of the brusqueness
he had shown to Snowy.

 
          
“I
am deeply grieved about last night, Mary, but you must not judge me too
severely,” he began. “The discovery of that woman’s treachery angered me beyond
measure. Of course, I should not have allowed the matter to go further—I only
wished to frighten her.”

 
          
“If
she is not your wife, you deceived her cruelly,” Mary said quietly. “No woman
could forgive such a shameful trick.”

 
          
“It
was an accident,” Paul said quickly. “We were married in a small settlement in
Missouri, by a man whom everyone called `Judge.’ It was only much later that I
learned it was but a courtesy title, and that he was a dissolute old rascal who
would do anything for a fee. We were travellers, you see, and went on the
following day. When I found out, by chance, I dared not tell her—she would have
killed me.” The explanation was plausible enough, but Mary Ducane did not find
it convincing.

 
          
“You
should have told her, and made the only possible reparation,” she said. “By all
the laws of morality, she is your wife.”

 
          
“It
would have been suicide—Lora’s temper is that of a fiend; Hank was the second
victim of it since we came to Deadwood” His voice acquired a pleading note. “When
you know more of the world, you will understand what a lovely unscrupulous
woman can accomplish. I was infatuated, and it was only after I came to Wayside
that I began to realize that she was an evil influence in my life. When I saw
you
… ”

 
          
“You
deceived me also,” she coldly reminded. “Had I been aware that Lora was not
your sister
… ”

 
          
“An
arrangement made before I met you—at her wish,” he explained eagerly. “She
revelled in her ability to attract men, and insisted on posing as a single
woman. Not only a traitor, but unfaithful, in love with that cowpuncher. My
dear, don’t waste any pity on her; she has gone from our lives like an evil
dream. Your wish will be my law now, Mary.” The impassioned appeal fell on deaf
ears. “I have but one—to get away from this accursed country immediately,” she
said. “And leave the mine?” he asked incredulously.

 
          
“Yes,
I am sorry I ever heard of it,” she cried.

 
          
“It
brought us together,” he said softly. “Don’t say you regret that.”

 
          
“I
do,” she replied firmly. “Mister Lesurge

 
          
“Paul,”
he corrected.

 
          
“Mister
Lesurge,” she repeated. “Until last evening, I fancied I cared for you, but now
I know it was no more than the fascination of an inexperienced girl for a man
unlike any she had met.”

 
          
“Your
love for me will revive.”

 
          
“No,
it never existed.” The finality in her tone told him that this was no whim of
an overwrought mind, and it came like a blow in the face. He had been so sure.
Her very coldness fed the fire within him.

 
          
“I’ll
teach you to care,” he muttered thickly.

 
          
One
swift step and she was captive, pressed close to him, his hot lips showering
kisses upon her own, frozen, unresponsive. She made no attempt to resist, lying
limply in his arms. But for the scorn in her eyes he might have been embracing
a corpse. Some realization of this brought her release.

 
          
“And
now I hate you,” she said.

 
          
“School
your tongue,” he warned. “I know how to deal with vixens. You may yet have to
choose between myself and—Fagan.”

      
 
“Of
two
evils ”
she began contemptuously.

 
          
“You
would prefer Fagan,” he finished furiously. “The fellow who knifed
your ..
” He saw the dawning horror in her face, and paused,
too late.

 
          
“Fagan—slew—my—father?”
she panted. “And you—were waiting for us at Wayside. The cowboy was right.” She
swayed like a sapling in the breeze but steadied herself when he advanced, “Don’t
touch me, you murderer.” Nor did he stay her, when with stumbling steps, she
ran towards the tent.
Snowy came to meet her.