Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 08 - Sudden Takes The Trail(1940) (28 page)

 
          
“I
won’t leave without my child,” she said.

 
          
“That’s
talkin’,” Sark replied.
“Fair enough too.
I’ll go get
him.” He hurried downstairs.

 
          
“She
won’t budge without the brat,” he told Jake, who had looked up expectantly. “Where
is he?”

 
          
“In
Welcome, likely; we couldn’t be bothered with a baby. She thought we had it, an’
that was
all the
whip we needed.”

 
          
“Damnation!
You’ve bungled it, as usual,” Sark raged. “Didn’t I tell you?”

 
          
“Since
when do I have to take orders from you?” Mullins broke in. “If you don’t want
the woman, I dessay Welcome will raise the ransom; them ground-owls think a lot
of her.” The rancher scowled, mentally promising to teach the insolent fool a
lesson presently. “Got any ideas?” he inquired.

 
          
“Plenty.
Tell her the kid won’t be returned until she’s tied
to you, an’ if that don’t work, hawg-tie an’ carry her off; gives her a choice
of knots,” Mullins finished with a laugh.

 
          
Sark
returned to the waiting girl. “Jake won’t hand over the child until we’re
married,” he said. “I argued, but he won’t listen.” She knew now that Dave had
told her the truth—the boy was safe. The knowledge stiffened her resolution.

 
          
“Then
I shall remain here,” she said.

 
          
Her
obstinacy, and beauty, roused a devil of anger in his breast. Two quick strides
and he had gripped her shoulders, bruising the flesh with the intensity of his
grasp. His fierce face, aflame with desire, was thrust towards her own, the hot
eyes scorching her.

 
          
Eyes
distended in dread, she fought to free herself, but the relentless clutch
paralysed her muscles. She tried to scream, but the sound died in her dry
throat.

 
          
“Mine,”
he muttered hoarsely. “Mine, right now” Quick steps outside, the door was flung
open, and Jake came in. One swift glance brought an oath.

 
          
“Hell,
Sark, this ain’t
no
time for foolishness,” he said, an
underlying threat in his tone. “I want a word with you, pronto.” The cattleman
flung his captive away so violently that she fell.

 
          
Without
even a look at the prostrate form he followed Jake outside.

 
          
“Damn
you,” he said. “Can’t a fella kiss his bride without you buttin’ in? What’s
eatin’ you?”

 
          
“I’ve
just had news that a party of over a dozen armed men under Nippert is headin’
for here.”

 
          
“Well,
you ain’t scared of a passel o’ blunderin’ tradesmen, are you?”

 
          
“Not
so as you’d notice, but there’s some can throw lead, an’ the marshal is showin’
the way.” This wiped the scorn from Sark’s face. “The marshal?” he queried. “But
he’s—dead.”

 
          
“Then
he must have a twin. Galt seen him, an’ he’s got good reason to know the gent.

 
          
What
bothers me is how he got wise to this place, an’ where’s the Bar O?”

 
          
“They
figured on on’y havin’ yore lot to deal with,” Sark suggested. “That was a
miscalculation–my boys are handy. I’ll call them.” He took a whistle from his
vest pocket as Jake whirledon him. “So that was yore idea, huh?” the rustler
cried.
“To git away with the gal an’ the gold.”
His
revolver leapt out. “Hand over tha four thousand or I’ll send yore sneakin’
soul to torment.” Sark was cornered, and knew it. He reached into a pocket,
produced and passed over a big roll of bills which the other stowed away with a
scornful grin.

 
          
“You
can summon yore men,” he said, “but I’m stayin’ near you an’ at the first sign
o’ crooked work, out goes yore light.
Sabe?”
The
rancher blew a shrill blast before he replied. “No call for me to remain here,”
he then remarked. “I’ve kept my side of the bargain, even to payin’ you double
the agreed sum—a dirty trick on yore part. I shall take the woman an’ set off
at once.”

 
          
“You
don’t say,” was the ironical rejoinder. “Listen, my friend: you got me into
this, an’ yo’re goin’ to git me out; with yore riders we can stand ‘em off. If
I’m catched, I’ll take the hobbles off my tongue, an’ you know what that means—for
you. Now, I’ll tie the gal up, ‘case she Bits any rash ideas.” He went in,
replaced the bonds, lifted and laid her on the bed. “Likely there’s a ruckus
comin’ an’ lead will fly; you’ll be wise to lie still.” The two men went
downstairs, where they found the cowboys fraternizing with the bandits.

 
          
The
rancher raised a hand for silence. “Boys, that swine of a marshal from Welcome
is
on the way to clean up this joint. I guess we’ll all have
a word to say about that, huh?” A rumbling growl of assent answered him. “Good,
our other business here can wait till we’ve sent him an’ his jackrabbits back
to their holes. Keep under cover, shoot straight, an’ remember, it’s them or
us.”

 
          
With
oaths and extravagant threats they turned away to take up their positions. Jake
gave orders, but his thoughts were on something else—that reference to “other
business.” He had no doubt the attacking force would be beaten off, but—what
then? The Dumbbell men outnumbered
his own
and their
leader would be in a position to dictate terms, which would most certainly
include the return of the ransom.

 
          
“No
use crossin’ a river till you reach it,” he reflected, but at the back of his
tortuous mind a plan was taking shape.

 
          
DAWN
had come, and a grey light was creeping over the sky, putting out the stars and
bringing a chill wind when the marshal encountered the Welcome contingent, its
strength almost doubled by nearly every man of the Bar O outfit. They
forgathered on the fringe of the forested foothills, and halted to arrange the
advance.

 
          
“What
do you suggest, Jim?” Nippert asked.

 
          
“There’s
two ways o’ gettin’ to the hang-out, an’ I’m proposin’ we split up an’ use ‘em
both.

 
          
The
second party will arrive after the first has opened the ball, an’ attackin’
from the rear, should be a surprise for ‘em.”

 
          
“That’s
sound reasonin’,” John Owen agreed. “The Bar O will take care o’ the second
trail, an’ we won’t be long after you, Jim.” So it was decided. The marshal,
Dave, and the Welcome men began at once the ascent of the mountain-side, while
the cowboys sped away in search of the other approach.

 
          
Though
the sun had not yet appeared, there was light in the open, but in among the
trees, it was still night. Sudden, on his black steed, leading the
way,
seemed to those following to be merely a moving patch
of the shadow which encompassed them. Strung out in single file—for the trail
was narrow—progress was
slow,
and silent save for the
creak ofleather as a rider shifted in his seat, and the sound of treading
hooves.

 
          
Steadily
the climb proceeded, but it was a long and tiring one, and by the time they
reached their destination, the slanting rays of the rising sun were painting
the tree-tops with gold.

 
          
But
the riders did not think of this; they were there to kill.

 
          
A
short distance from the bandits’ stronghold they dismounted, concealed their
mounts in the bushes, and advanced on foot. Nippert chuckled when the clearing
was in sight.

 
          
“Kind
of ‘em to leave them stumps—they’ll give us mighty good cover,” he remarked.

 
          
“There
don’t seem to be
no one
about. D’you s’pose we could
rush the place, Jim?”

 
          
“Too
risky—they may be waitin’ for us,” the marshal said. “Spread out an’ pick yore
positions, but don’t shoot till yu have a target.” Lined out in a half-circle
fronting the building they crept forward, each man selecting the shelter he
fancied. When they were all settled, Sudden fired into the air. Almost at once
the door was flung back and Mullins
appeared,
rifle in
hand.

 
          
“Who
are you, an’ what do you want?” he called.

 
          
The
marshal stood up. “
yu
know me, an’ I want Mrs. Gray,”
he replied.

 
          
“Why
should you think she’s here?”

 
          
“I
told him so.” Masters rose as he spoke, and his presence there seemed to strike
the rustler dumb; it was as though he had seen an apparition. With an effort he
fought down the feeling.

 
          
“The
gal’s gone,” he said. “Sark fetched her, an’ they’re off to git married at
Drywash.”

 
          
The
statement produced an oath from Dave, and an incredulous shrug from the marshal.
“We’ll see for ourselves,” the latter replied.

 
          
“Then
you’d better come a-shootin’,” Jake snapped. “An’ here’s one to begin with.”
With the words, he swung his rifle up and fired, the mis sile failing to find
the mark by a mere inch.

 
          
Sudden
replied, shooting from the hip, but Jake was taking no more chances, and his
bullet only buried itself in the slammed door. Immediately, gun-barrels were
thrust from the unglazed windows, and a succession of spiteful cracks awoke the
echoes. The fight was on.

 
          
The
early exchange of shots did no damage; the light was still poor, and the
necessity for avoiding exposure interfered with accuracy. Movement on either
side received instant attention, and both parties being chary of providing
opportunities, the firing became spasmodic.

 
          
Moments
passed and then the sun glinted on a cautiously pushed-out rifle-barrel. They
fired
together,
saw the weapon slide forward as though
released by nerveless fingers, and flash to the ground.

 
          
“That’s
one to me,” Sudden said.
“An’ one less to them.
I
figured the Bar O would be here by this,” he added.

 
          
“They
got twice the distance to travel. How did yu hit on the other way?”

 
          
“Got
Jake to lay a trail for me,” Sudden smiled, and then explained.

 
          
“Cunnin’
like a fox,” the young man complimented. “I dunno why I trust yu.” Time dragged
on, the sun became more searching, and the position of the assailants
correspondingly uncomfortable. Cramped with crouching behind scanty cover, with
parched throats—they had not thought to bring water-bottles into the fray—they
sweated and suffered, but not in silence.

 
          
Nippert,
remembering his cool bar, with its shelves of satisfying beverages, spoke
feelingly of the unusual state to which he was reduced, and ended:

 
          
“We’d
oughta rushed ‘em right away, Jim.”

 
          
“If
we had yu might
be needin’
a drink still more,” was
the sardonic reply. “With the Dumbbell crowd, they’re all of two to one. Pass
the word to cripple the door.” The Welcome citizens, glad of a definite mark,
obeyed the order eagerly, and sent a hail of lead into the unoffendingtimber.
This outburst of activity provoked an immediate response from the defenders.

 
          
“Leave
the door to the others,” Sudden told his companion. “If
them
woman-stealers think we’re concentratin’ on that, they may get careless.” They
did; finding no bullets came towards the windows, and anxious to reply to the
bombardment, several of the besieged showed themselves for an instant and paid
penalty. The door itself, one hinge demolished, was sagging drunkenly, and
attempts were being made to barricade it when a burst of gun-fire from the rear
of the building advised those within that they were in danger of being
surrounded. The Bar O outfit had arrived and was getting to work. Mullins,
comprehending what had happened, inquired for Sark.