Read Sudden--Troubleshooter (A Sudden Western) #5 Online

Authors: Frederick H. Christian

Tags: #cowboys, #outlaws, #gunslingers, #frederick h christian, #oliver strange, #sudden, #jim green, #old west pulp fiction

Sudden--Troubleshooter (A Sudden Western) #5 (2 page)

Dancy, his face purple with shame at being
treated in this humiliating fashion before the whole town, sobbed
in rage. Damn the man! His fingers itched to reach for his gun,
longed to kill this ruthless intruder who had so disgraced him. But
he could not do it.


Like I thought,’ said
Green. ‘Plain yeller, through an’ through.’

He half turned away, as
though in disgust, and in that split second Dancy acted. His hand
clawed for his gun, the dark visage distorted with killing hatred.
Even as he moved, Green whirled, and with every ounce of his wiry
frame behind it, his clenched fist caught the would-be murderer
flush on the point of his meaty jaw. The blow made a sound like an
ax hitting a butcher’s slab, and Dancy went backwards in a windmill
of arms and legs, crashing into an upright and caroming off it to
fall headlong against a wall. He slid down the wall to the floor
senseless, and Green stepped across and relieved him of his gun. He
presented it butt first to the bartender, who accepted it
open-mouthed. A perfect hubbub of noise and conversation started up
as every man in the bar discussed with his neighbor what had just
been enacted before their eyes.


Mr. Green,’ said the
bartender. ‘I’m thankin’ yu from the bottom o’ my heart. Dancy
would have killed this youngster shore as my name’s Tom
Tyler.’

The young man who had been
the object of Dancy’s initial attention pushed forward. ‘I’d like
to thank yu, too, Mr. Green,’ he said. ‘I’m proud to know any man
who can throw a punch like that.’

Green turned to face the young man.


What’s yore name, kid?’ he
asked.


Henry, sir. Henry
Sloane.’


Is that right, yu aim to
be a cowboy?’ The kid nodded. ‘Ain’t much of an ambition,’ Green
told him. ‘Yu could just as easy get someone to kick yore brains
out here in town. Quicker, too.’

Henry joined in the general
laughter at Green’s wry description of cowboy life.


I came all the way from
Philadelphia to find a job as a cowboy,’ he told Tyler. ‘My old man
was a cowboy down Prescott way.’ The old bartender nodded sagely,
while Green listened with interest. ‘I spent all my money buying
this rig.’ The kid turned to Green. ‘Is it … is something wrong
with it, Mr. Green?’

Green smiled. ‘Nothin’ that
two days in the saddle won’t cure,’ he told the youngster. ‘An’
listen: Jim’s a sight easier than all this misterin’ yo’re doin’.
Out here we don’t reckon to call nobody mister less’n we’ got to.
Besides, yu make a man feel right ancient.’

The boy smiled. This drawling stranger who
had saved his life was a totally different kind of man to the
scowling bully who had been his first real contact with the
West.


Well, that’s all about
me,’ he said. ‘Now, where are yu from?’

Tyler shook his head and
laughed when Green replied, ‘I’m from over yonder, kid.’ He tapped
the youngster on the shoulder and told him, ‘That’s somethin’ yu
better learn not to ask in these parts, kid. It ain’t considered
perlite – or healthy – to ask a man where he’s from or why he’s
travelin’.’


Yu see,’ enjoined a
friendly onlooker, ‘he might have trouble on his tail an’ not want
to talk about …’ His voice tailed off as he realized that the
stranger who had treated Dancy so cavalierly might well misconstrue
what he had said, and take the words personally. But the tall
cowboy smiled.


No offence, old-timer,’ he
told the man. ‘I ain’t on the dodge.’


Glad to hear that,’
interposed a cold voice, and Green turned to face a slim,
fair-haired man with keen eyes, and a wary smile. On his shirt
pocket was pinned a five-pointed star which bore the legend
‘Marshal’.


I’m Appleby, town
marshal,’ he introduced himself. ‘I heard about the fracas. Yo’re
new in town, I take it. Passin’ through?’


Seein’ the country,’ Green
told him disarmingly, ‘but I had given some thought to lookin’ for
work in these parts. My belly’s been thinkin’ someone slit my
throat.’

Appleby frowned.


Yu’ve shore gone the wrong
way about findin’ work in these parts,’ he told the cowboy. ‘Jim
Dancy happens to ramrod the Saber ranch. I ain’t shore he’d
recommend yu to his boss after yu knocked his teeth
out.’

The befuddled Dancy was
struggling to his feet now, aided by the none-too-gentle hands of
one or two of the saloon’s regulars.


Get yore damn’ hands off
me,’ he snarled. ‘I can manage.’

He stood, rocking slightly on his feet and
glaring at Green as Appleby walked across to him.


Yo’re lucky yu ain’t bein’
patted in the face with a spade on Boot Hill,’ the Marshal told him
coldly. ‘Get on yore horse an’ get out o’ town.’

For a moment Dancy’s eyes
locked with those of the fair-haired lawman, then they
fell.


Okay, Marshal, okay,’ he
mumbled. ‘I’m goin’.’ He shuffled out of the saloon, and Appleby
turned back towards Green, who was talking to the bartender,
Tyler.


Yu say there’s only a
couple o’ small spreads up in the hills?’ he was asking the drink
dispenser.


Yep,’ said that worthy.
‘Up in the Mesquites, about three hours from town. Biggest is Jake
Harris; the others are on the “one-o’-these-days” side.’

Green nodded. Smaller
spreads were often so called because of the number of times their
owners would tell anyone who cared to listen that ‘one o’ these
days’ he was going to be the biggest rancher in these
parts.


Yu know if they need
men?’


They’ll be mighty pleased
to see yu,’ Tyler told him. ‘They can on’y offer yu grub, a place
to sleep, an’ workin’ pay, against Saber’s top wages, free
cart’idges, good grub.’


If that scum is a sample
o’ their crew I’d say Saber’d pay to avoid,’ Green
remarked.


They ain’t over-popular,’
Tyler told him, ‘but …’


Tyler, yo’re just
gossipin’,’ Appleby cut in. ‘No use in givin’ anyone any wrong
notions.’


What do yu mean, seh?’
asked the cowboy.

Young Sloane pushed closer to hear.


We got the makin’s o’ some
trouble in these parts,’ the Marshal told them. ‘We’ve had smaller
outfits movin’ in over the last few years, an’ homesteadin’ in the
Mesquites. A few of ’em ain’t no better than they oughta be.
Gunnison – he owns the Saber – claims he’s been losin’ beef, an’
that the homesteaders are responsible. He’s added a few hard cases
like Dancy to his payroll an’ he keeps on threatenin’ to ride up
there one o’ these days an’ clear out Harris, who’s the leadin’
light o’ the hill ranchers, an’ all his friends.’


What do Harris an’ his
people say about all this?’


They claim Gunnison is
just plain greedy, an’ wants all the range for hisself. They call
him a damn’ liar an’ swear they never touch any o’ his beef. If
they do, I ain’t been able to find any sign of it.’


But the Saber is still
losin’ stock, huh?’


Gunnison’s got the figgers
to prove it,’ the Sheriff told him. ‘It ain’t really any o’ my
business: my job’s to keep the town in order, but with the nearest
law down in Tucson, somebody’s got to poke around.’


Sounds like a bad
situation,’ Green said reflectively.


One o’ these days the
whole shebang is a-goin’ to boil over,’ Tyler said somberly. ‘When
that day comes, I’d as lief be in Montana.’


Well, I’m thankin’ yu
gents for tellin’ us how the land lies. It don’t look like we got
much choice: I got a feelin’ the Saber wouldn’t take to us any
more’n their ramrod did.’

He turned to young Henry Sloane.


What yu say, Philadelphia?
Yu care to ride up to the Mesquites with me?’

The kid nodded, his eyes
shining with something already close to devotion. ‘Shore, Jim,’ he
said, trying to imitate Green’s drawl.


What’s that man’s name yu
said: Harris?’ asked Green.


Jake Harris,’ the
bartender told him. ‘Owns the JH spread. Yu tell him I sent yu.’ He
gave the cowboy directions to the Harris ranch. Green nodded his
thanks and, with a smile and a nod to the Marshal, led the way out
of Tyler’s saloon, closely followed by the kid.

The saloon-keeper watched
him go and then turned to the Marshal. ‘Wal, Tom,’ he said, ‘I
reckon that young feller could cool down this war talk in no time
flat, an’ I feel good for the first time in months. The drinks are
on the house!’ he shouted. Only the Marshal did not join in the
general melee that ensued. He leaned against the bar, reflectively,
eyeing the doorway through which the newcomer to Yavapai had
left.

Chapter Two

 

HENRY SLOANE
thought of a hundred questions to ask the tall,
saturnine man at his side as they rode out of town along the trail
leading north towards the timbered hills they could see faintly in
the distance, but he held his tongue and covertly surveyed his
companion. Green’s range garb was neat and serviceable, but hardly
new. His saddle was plain and unadorned, but the leather had the
deep dull glow that comes only from constant care. Green’s horse, a
magnificent black stallion, bore no brand except the letters ‘JG’
which had been hair-branded – plucked out with a knife blade rather
than a hot iron – on the glossy haunches. Henry’s eyes kept
straying to the two tied-down guns at Green’s sides, and
eventually, his youthful curiosity unable to contain itself any
longer, burst out, ‘Jim, where d’yu ever learn to shoot like that?’
To the kid’s chagrin, Green’s face darkened. His heart sank, and he
wondered what he had said. After a moment, however, a smile reached
Green’s wintry countenance, and he replied, ‘She’s a long story,
Philadelphia, but I’ll tell yu this: yu don’t learn in three
days.’


Gee, I know that, Jim. I
just wondered I never even had a chance to thank yu properly until
now.’


Shucks,’ Green told him.
‘I had a reason for interferin’.’


Yu did?’ cried Henry,
incredulously. ‘What was it?’


Wal,’ grinned the
cowpuncher, ‘if Dancy had salivated yu, it would’a’ given yu a
mighty pore impression o’ Arizona.’

His faint smile widened as the boy frowned,
and then, as the import of what Green had said suddenly dawned on
him, Henry burst out laughing.


Yo’re right,’ he said,
giggling. ‘That ain’t no way to see the country – from
underneath!’

Green smiled to himself. Philadelphia was
already getting the hang of the western way of looking at
things.


Three or four weeks an’
he’ll look like the genuine article,’ Green mused. The kid broke in
on his soliloquy with another question.


Jim … would yu learn me
how that fast draw goes?’


Philadelphia,’ Green told
him. ‘The answer’s no. The less yu know about gunfightin’ the
better off yu’ll be.’


Heck, Jim,’ protested the
lad. ‘If I’m goin’ to make a hand, I reckon I’ll need to know how
to shoot properly.’


Shootin’s one thing,’
Green said, as they cantered over a bridge across a deep dry creek
bed, the horses making a noise like thunder with their hoofs. ‘Fast
drawin’s another. Any danged fool can do fast draws in front of a
lookin’ glass until he’s convinced hisself he could out-draw his
own reflection. But that ain’t the same as facin’ a man who’s
shootin’ back.’


But a fast draw is
important, ain’t it, Jim?’


Shore ’nuff,’ Green
agreed. ‘But what’s more important is what yu do when yu’ve
unlimbered yore smoke-pole. Hold up a minnit.’

He reined in his horse and, gesturing the
lad to follow suit, tethered the animal to a mesquite bush beside
the trail. He then paced off about fifteen yards and, stooping,
piled up three or four large stones to make a pile. Upon this he
placed a cardboard cartridge box which he had taken from his
saddlebag. Walking back, he gestured with his chin at the makeshift
target.


There yu go, Philadelphia.
Let’s see what yu can do.’

Nothing to lose, Henry
settled himself, checked his gun-belt to see that the holster was
hanging properly, drew clumsily, and fired. His shot whined off a
rock somewhere in the distance.


Never come near it,’
smiled Green. ‘Try her again.’

Sheathing the pistol, the youngster drew and
fired again, and this time kept firing until the gun was empty. His
shots kicked up dust not far from the pile of stones, while one
nicked a branch which slewed down lop-sidedly from a tree, shedding
leaves like snowflakes and sending a startled jay scolding away
into the hills. Green tapped the downcast youngster on the
shoulder.


Philadelphia, yo’re doin’
her all wrong. Yore holster’s too low, yo’re too tight, yo’re not
aimin’ … now, watch.’

Without seeming to think
about what he was doing, Green drew faster than Henry’s eyes could
see. Like a roll of thunder five shots blasted out in one staccato
burst and the carton was torn off the pile of stones, whipped away
to the right by the second shot, caught in flight by the third and
the fourth, and whisked off in tatters by the fifth. Before Henry
could bring his startled gaze back from where the box had landed to
his companion, Green’s gun was back in the holster.

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