Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 09 - Sudden Makes War(1942) by Oliver Strange Read Free Book Online Page A

           “This
hot-head boy insists on war, and by God! he shall have
it—war to the knife.”
                 “Meanie’
a stab in the back, o’ course,” Dan retorted. “Meaning the end of the Circle
Dot,” Garstone snapped.
                 As
he went out of the saloon, the young rancher’s voice followed him:
                 “Get
yoreself a gun, Easterner; you’ll be needin’ one.” He
sat down again, drew a deep breath, and added, “That clears the air some.”
                 Bowdyr
shook his head. “He’s a cunnin’ devil; knowed you’d turn his offer down, but it
puts the blame for any trouble on you, an’ there’s those in town will see it
thataway.”
                 “I
ain’t carin’,” Dan replied. “What you think of him, Jim?”
                 “He’s
dangerous,” Sudden said. “An’ I wouldn’t gamble too high on his not totin’ a
gun.”
                 “I
hope he does,” was the sinister answer. “Time to be movin’, Bill.” This to the foreman, who promptly collected his men.
                 The
ride home was very different to the usual hilarious return from town. Death was
no stranger to any of them, but to-day farewell had been said to one they liked
and respected, who, but yesterday, had been their leader. Stern-faced, the
three cowboys paced behind the buckboard, speaking only rarely and then in
lowered tones.
                 “Young
Dan shorely made hisself clear to that dude,” remarked Bob Lister, who was
commonly addressed and referred to as “Blister.”
                 “He
did so, an’ I’ll bet he warn’t wide o’ the mark neither,” Tiny—the heftiest of
the outfit—replied. “What you think, Noisy?”
                 “Yeah,”
the third man said.
                 Tiny
turned to the first speaker. “Allus the same. Ask that
fella a simple question an’ out comes a torrent o’ talk like a river in
flood-time. Honest, Noisy, if you don’t hobble that tongue o’ yores you’ll git
a bad name.”
                 “He
has that a’ready, ” Blister pointed out, and
inconsequently, “There’s goin’ to be bustlin’ times in this neck o’ the woods. I’m likin’ the look o’ that new hombre—if he’s on our side.”
                 “Bill
spoke well of him an’ he’s a good judge—he engaged me,” Tiny said modestly.
                 “Yeah,
I heard him apologizin’ to the Ol’ Man,” Blister grinned, and Tiny—having no
retort ready—the conversation languished.
                 The
Circle Dot reached, horses unsaddled and turned into the corral, the rancher
and Sudden were making for the house when a man emerged from a little shack
near the wood-pile and came towards them. He was old, as his dead-white,
untrimmed hair and beard bore witness, but in his prime he must have been both
tall and powerful. Even yet, the broad but bowed shoulders suggested strength
above the average. In one hand he was swinging a heavy axe, the blade of which
shone like silver in the rays of the sinking sun. As he drew near, Sudden noted
that his eyes were dull, expressionless.
                 “‘Lo, Hunch,” the young man greeted.
                 The
man stared at him for a moment, and then, with apparent effort, stammered, “What’s—come—o’—Dave?”
                 In
a few sentences, and speaking very slowly, Dover told the tale. The other
listened with seeming indifference, swung round without a word, and lurched
away to the wood-pile. They saw the axe flash into the air and heard the thud
of the blade as the keen edge bit deep into a baulk of timber; the blow was
followed by others, each driven home with savage intensity; it almost seemed as
though he were wreaking a vengeance on the tree-trunk.
                 “Another
o’ pore Dad’s