Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 07 - Sudden Rides Again(1938) (40 page)

 
          
Keith
threw up his hands, a gesture of despair. “
It’s
plain
hell, but you’re right. I’ll stay put,” he promised. “Sorry I flew off the
handle, Jim.”

 
          
“I
ain’t blamin’ yu—felt like it myself. Tough on yu to be tied here, but it’s
gotta be. Mart, can yu keep yore outfit within easy reach o’ the ranch-house
to-day?”

 
          
“Yu
bet I will.”

 
          
“Good.
We have to move fast now. I’m ridin’ to Red Rock this mornin’ to see Dealtry,
an’ I’ll come back by Dugout. If they’ll both chip in, we’ll tackle Hell
City—tomorrow.”

 
          
“That’s
the talk, Jim,” Merry approved.

 
          
“What
yu want I should do?” Frosty enquired.

 
          
The
puncher’s grim face relaxed. “Keep that big mouth o’ yourn shut—all of it,” he
replied, and was gone before the insulted one could think of a fitting retort.

 
          
The
sheriff of Red Rock smiled as he recognized the young man he had catalogued in
his memory as “Mart Merry’s visitor.”

 
          
“Takin’
the back trail a’ready?” he asked. “Ain’t tired of us, I hope.”

 
          
“Neither
one nor the other,” Sudden replied. “Yu remember the day I met yu?”

 
          
“Shore
thing—I saved the bank forty thousand bucks.”

 
          
“Yeah,
havin’ had word o’ the hold-up from a boy name o’ Holt. Did he tell yu how he
knowed?”

 
          
“He
was some reticent ‘bout that—said a fella called `Sudden’ sent him. I took a
chance, though I’d never heard o’ the jigger.”

 
          
“Yo’re
meetin’ him now,” the puncher announced “Yu see, I was one o’ the road-agents,
but for reasons yu’ll understand later, I didn’t want the trick turned.” He
grinned at the amazed officer. “Why, if yu’d accepted my invite an’ searched
me, yu’d ‘a’ found another o’ them red badges.”

 
          
Dealtry
leaned back in his chair. “Damn me if I know whether I oughta thank or throw yu
in the calaboose.”

 
          
“Play
safe an’ make it the first,” Sudden advised. “I’m here on serious business.”

 
          
“Spill
it,” was the reply. “You can’t surprise me no more.”

 
          
“Don’t
bet too high on that,” Sudden warned. “Yu re collect we talked o’ young Keith
an’ yu told me he was reputed to be bossin’ an outlaw band—the same what tried
to rob yore coach. Well, that ain’t so; their leader is a man yu used to know
as Lafe Lander.”

 
          
“Jeff’s friend?”

 
          
“Yeah,”
Sudden said drily, “but lemme show yu how much of a friend he is.” In a few
sentences, he told of the impudent impersonation, the shooting of the Colonel,
and abduction of his daughter. The sheriff’s eyebrows nearly joined his hair as
he listened to the extraordinary story. The teller of it concluded with,
“Lander is a good shot an’ carries a couple o’ thirty-eights. Does that mean
anything to yu?”

 
          
“Hell’s
blight,” the sheriff swore. “It was a thirty-eight let the life out’n my boy.
That clears Keith.”

 
          
“
Shorely,
an’ yu can add that Lander admitted to me he shot
yore son.”

 
          
Dealtry
rose, his face rigid. “Mister,” he said, “I don’t care if yo’re forty outlaws
riled into one, I’m deep in yore debt for this, an’ if there’s any way I can
square it you on’y gotta say. But first, I’m goin’ to scare up a few o’ the
boys, gather in an’ hang this felon.”

 
          
Sudden
smiled; he liked the courage of this forthright, burly fellow. But this would
not do. “Wait a minute, sheriff; if it was that easy, I’d ‘a’ fetched him in
for yu,” he said, and went on to explain that Hell City was a natural fortress,
garrisoned by at least two-score desperate men who would fight to the last
because life or liberty was already forfeit to the law.

 
          
“It’ll
mean a battle,” Dealtry commented, his sombre eyes alight. “Good. I’ll be at
the Twin Diamond tomorrow, early, an’ I won’t be alone.”

 
          
Leaving
Red Rock, Sudden took an easterly trail to Dugout. His journey had, so far,
been successful; not only had he secured the needed assistance, but removed the
shadow overhanging Jeff Keith. The end of the long and perilous path he had
been pursuing was almost in sight, and in a little more than twenty-four
hours—if all went well, the most colossal criminal he had ever encountered
would reap the reward of his misdeeds. At this point his cogitations concluded
with a self-deprecatory laugh.

 
          
“Countin’
chickens, Nig,” he said. “I’m shore old enough to know better’n that.”

 
          
His
entry into Dugout caused a flutter; heads were poked out of doorways as the
news travelled from house to house. He turned into the store, which was empty,
except for the proprietor.

 
          
“Jansen,
yu are a liar,” he remarked, and smiled.

 
          
The
store-keeper was glad to see that smile; the words were fighting talk, and
though he was no coward, he knew it was death for him to draw on this man. He
said nothing. “Yu pretend that Colonel Keith injured himself though yu saw
another shoot him,” the puncher continued. “There is no longer any need for
that lie. Bite on this: Jeff Keith ain’t the man yu know as Satan.”

 
          
Incredulous
as Jansen undoubtedly was, he did not dare dispute the assertion.

 
          
“How—how
d’you know
?” he stammered.

 
          
“I
went to Hell City to find out,” Sudden replied.
“Heard ‘bout
Miss Keith?”

 
          
“Ain’t
nothin’ happened to her, has there?”

 
          
“Some
o’ Satan’s Imps carried her off last night.”

 
          
The
store-keeper stamped with rage. “Curse it! You gave
them
whelps a lesson once. Don’t you reckon they need another?”

 
          
“They’re
gettin’ it—tomorrow,
an it
’s goin’ to be the last one.
I’m here to ask if Dugout will stand
in?
”

 
          
“
you
bet she will,” Jansen replied. “What you want me to do?”

 
          
“Report
with yore men to Steve Lagley in the mornin’, and tell ‘em not to chatter; we
aim to make it a surprise party.”

 
          
“Here’s
one who’ll go, mister,” a hoarse voice broke in. “I got Pop’s rifle an’ can use
her, too.”

 
          
A
gawky youth emerged from the shadowy back of the store. There was an eager fire
in his dark eyes.

 
          
“Awright,
Bud, talk to me later,” Jansen said, and in a whisper to the puncher, “Satan
had his father hanged. Is Merry in this?”

 
          
“Yeah,
an’ the Red Rock sheriff is fetchin’ a posse; we’re goin’ to do this thing
right. So long,”

 
          
Black
Sam welcomed the gunman with the old broad grin, disclosing a white line of
teeth which seemed to extend halfway round his head. He was not one to blow hot
and cold; the cowboy had done him a service; he remembered that and forgot the
rest.

 
          
“Sho’
am please’ to see yo, sah,” he greeted.

 
          
“Howdy,
Sam,” Sudden smiled.
“On’y time to have just one o’ the best
liquor in pese parts.”

 
          
“Bettah dan Hell City, sah?”

 
          
“Yeah,
yu black rascal. See here, Jansen has some good an’ bad news for yu; don’t open
yore face ‘bout either.”

 
          
Leaving
the darkie scratching his wool, he set out for the Twin Diamond, satisfied with
his day’s work.

 
          
While
the puncher was proceeding on his way to Red Rock, Hell City had a visitor who
greeted Silver familiarly and stepped into the Chief’s presence, indifferent to
the black look he received.

 
          
“What
brings you, Turvey?”

 
          
,”Thought
yu’d like to hear that the OP Man is liable to pull through—must ‘a’ bin a poor
shot, Dessay yore hand shook; it ain’t every day a fella has to down his own
dad.” He sniggered at the last word, and his rat-like eyes roamed round the
room. “Yo’re well-fixed here—seems a pity to leave it.”

       
“I’ve no intention of doing so,” Satan
snapped.

 
          
“Mebbe,
but sometimes other folk do the plannin’.”

 
          
“What
do you mean?”

 
          
“Takin’
the girl has tipped the balance: the Twin Diamond an’ Double K is gittin’ ready
to move.”

 
          
“The Double K?
Has Lagley lost his senses?”

 
          
“Steve
has had a change of heart,” Turvey sneered. “Yu see
,
he wants the range to stay in the Keith family.”

 
          
The
expressionless eyes suddenly flamed as Satan realized that this creature knew
his secret; little did Turvey suspect how near he was to death at that moment.
With an effort the masked man fought down the desire to close those jeering
lips forever. But the damage was done, and this fellow might still be useful.
So, when he spoke, his voice did not betray him.

 
          
“How
did you learn this?”

 
          
“Overheard Steve an’ Frosty talkin’ las’ night; that gunfighter,
Sudden, ‘pears to be runnin’ things.”

 
          
The
Chief bit on an oath. Though he would not admit it, he was beginning to fear
this strange cowboy who, by accident or design, was wrecking his plans. But for
his craving for cruelty … He would not think of that.

 
          
“So
two dozen cow-hands imagine they can take Hell City?”

 
          
“Dugout
may help—we ain’t too popular there.”

 
          
“Those—tradesmen?”
Satan said scornfully.

 
          
“A
tradesman can pull a trigger, an’ his
bullet’s
just as
hard,” Turvey pointed out.

 
          
“But
not so likely to hit the mark,” the Chief retorted. “And when is the attempt to
be made?”

 
          
“Couldn’t
find that out; soon, I’d say; they want the girl back.”

 
          
“They
won’t get her,” the bandit assured him. “Your news has been of use. Take this.”
With a grin of greed, the informer deftly caught the bag of money. “Silence,
they say, is golden, Turvey; you will find it so. When this little trouble is
over …” It was well for his peace of mind that the cowboy could not read that
smile. “Get back to the Double K and glean what you can.”

 
          
Turvey
shook his head. “I’ve quit,” he explained. “Steve had an ugly look for me this
mornin’ an’ I’d sooner take a hint than a chance.”

 
          
“A
pity,” Satan said. “Still, it is one man more for us. Now leave me, I have much
to do; when guests are expected, one must make arrangements.”