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

pensioners,” Dan explained. “Drifted in ‘bout
two years back, sick an’ starvin’. He lives in the hut, an’ keeps us in
fuel. 0’ course, he’s kinda lackin’lost his memory.
                 For
months we figured he was dumb, couldn’t get a word from him; even now, it takes
somethin’ extra, but he ‘pears to savvy what folks say.”
                 “There
don’t seem to be much wrong with his muscles.”
                 “He’s
as strong as a bullock—packs or hauls in loads you’d take a team for. He can’t
remember any name, but the boys called him `Hunch’ on account of his stoop.
Just worships that axe. I figure that he’s been a lumberjack; every now and
again, he’ll be missin’ for a spell, wanderin’ in the woods.”
                 “Ever
have any trouble with him?”
                 “On’y once. We had a new hand—fella named ` Rattray,’ an’ the first half o’ that described him. He was
the kind what would tease a kid, an’ he regarded a daft old man as the answer
to a bully’s prayer. It didn’t come out just that way. Rattray got the axe an’
started breakin’ stones to blunt the edge. Hunch threw him clear across the
bunkhouse, snappin’ a leg, an arm, an’ some ribs. Doc Malachi put him together
again, an’ when he was able to ride, Dad told him to. Rattray rode, but on’y as
far as the Wagon-wheel, so there’s another who had reason to …”
                 Sudden
switched the subject. “Odd number, that pill-merchant,” he remarked. “What’s he
doin’ here?”
                 “Committin’
slow suicide,” Dan replied. “It’s a pity for he’s a clever chap an’ knows his
job. Don’t you pick holes in him; I’ve a notion he’s a friend, an’ we ain’t
overburdened with ‘em.”
                 “Well,
there’s one good thing about an enemy—yu know what to expect; friends ain’t
allus so dependable,” was the puncher’s cynical comment.
                 At
the door of the ranch-house, Yorky was lounging. He scowled at the rancher.
                 “So
now he’s gone, yer t’rowin’ me out,” he said resentfully.
                 “Where
did you get that idea?” Dan asked curiously.
                 “Flint
said yer wouldn’t be tannin’ a home for hoboes no more.”
                 “I
don’t consult Flint about my actions; you can stay as long as you want,” Dan
replied shortly, and went in. Sudden hung back. “Why don’t yu fork a hoss an’
get out in the open, ‘stead o’ stayin’ cooped up in the house, smokin’ them
everlastin’ coffin-nails?” he asked quietly.
                 The
boy’s rebellious expression softened. “The Ol’ Man ureter talk that way, but it
ain’t no good,” he muttered. “I told yer, I’m a weed an’—I can’t ride, Mister.”
                 “Weeds
can grow big an’ strong,” Sudden smiled. “I’ll teach yu to stay in a saddle.
Think it over, an’—I’m Jim—to my friends.”
                 He
went, and Yorky slumped down on the long bench by the door. “Hell! I b’lieve he
meant it, but what’s th ’ good?”
                 He
reached out a screw of tobacco and papers, only to thrust them back again.
                 “Awright—Jim—it’s
a bet.”
                 So,
on the following morning, when Sudden came to get his horse, he was accompanied
by an unhappy-looking youth who stood and gazed doubtfully at the pony Burke
had selected for him.
                 “Too
old an’ lazy to buck,” the foreman said. “Been here damn near
as long as I have. His name’s `Shuteye.’ Story is that one o’ the
boys—years ago—after a long an’ tirin’ day, dozed off in the saddle, figurin’
his hoss would fetch him home. When he woke, hours later, they were in the same
place an’