ON THE morning of the trial old Smithy, the stove-up puncher who kept the jail clean and acted as an unpaid jailer in return for a roof over his head and a few dollars for drinks, shuffled over and rattled a tin cup against the bars of Sudden’s cell.
‘Rise an’ shine, Mr. Sudden,’ he cackled. ‘Yu gotta be up bright an’ early. Wouldn’t want to miss all the fun, would yu?’ His rheumy eyes watered as he enjoyed his own humor. ‘Want some cawfee?’
‘If yu mean that dishwater I been drinkin’, no thanks,’ Sudden told him, smiling inwardly at the old man’s enjoyment. Smithy had become more important these last few days than at any time in his life. Having the celebrated Sudden as his charge had made the old man garrulous, and he had spent the night reminiscing about his years on the Chisholm Trail.
‘Yu reckon yu could loan me a razor?’ Sudden asked the old man. ‘Might as well look as little like a bum as possible.’
He gestured ruefully at the three-day stubble on his chin, and the creased clothes which were the result of his confinement. Jake Harris had been in to see him several times; he and his two neighbors were staying in town until the trial was over, and Sudden had done his best to reassure the old homesteader about his predicament.
‘They tell me it’s all goin’ to be legal an’ above board, he had told his employer. ‘Appleby’s sent down to Tucson for a circuit judge.’
‘He’s been stirrin’ things up a mite, too,’ growled the old man angrily. ‘Not to mention that loud-mouthed son o’ Gunnison’s. It’ll go bad if they find yu guilty, Jim.’
‘Hell, I ain’t expectin’ it,’ Sudden had smiled, but in truth he was perturbed that the tenor of the town might be conducive to violence which would involve his friends. The shave made him feel much better, and he sat down to eat the bacon and beans Smithy had heated up. After he had finished he rolled a cigarette and leaned back against the wall of his cell.
‘Yu shore don’t act like a man might be hanged by sunset,’ the old man observed.
‘Ain’t plannin’ on it, ol’ timer,’ Sudden told him with a smile.
‘They says yo’re as guilty as hell.’
‘No sign o’ Gunnison’s body yet, then?’
‘Nary a one. Appleby’s had men out in the Mesquites every day. Ol’ Lafe Gunnison’s just plain disappeared.’
‘Yu know Gunnison well?’ asked the captive.
‘Know everyone in this town,’ boasted Smithy. ‘Been here a slew o’ years. Worked for Tom Appleby’s predecessor, afore he was killed.’
‘When was that?’ asked Sudden.
‘Two year or more ago. Rock-slide caught him up in the Yavapais. He was a good man, George Rogers.’
‘How come Appleby was made Marshal?’
‘Don’t recollect exackly,’ Smithy said, scratching his stubbled chin. ‘He arrove in town, applied for the job. Randy Gunnison spoke for him, as I recall. Knowed him in Santa Fe, or some such place. He had some references. Been a good Marshal. How come yo’re askin’ so many questions?’
‘On’y way to get answers,’ Sudden told him, grinning.
‘I hope yu got a few for the trial,’ Smithy retorted, his sly old face grim. ‘Yo’re shore goin’ to need ’em, boy.’
By the time ten o’clock, the hour advertised for the opening of the trial, arrived the entire population of Yavapai and not a few strangers were crowded into Tyler’s saloon. The milling spectators jostled each other for the best vantage points from which to see the trial, and the atmosphere was almost one of holiday. Jovial insults, curses, greetings were being tossed backwards and forward across the room as various denizens of the town recognized their cronies and hailed them. Against the wall at the back of the room the homesteaders arrayed themselves; absent were Philadelphia and Susan Harris, who had stayed with the boy because she could, as she put it, ‘take better care of him than he could of himself.
The faces of Sudden’s friends were glum. They had spent the preceding evening going over and over the accusations against their friend, without ever being able to suggest a suitable alternative to put to the Sheriff. Their knowledge of the involvement of Randy Gunnison and Jim Dancy in the thefts of Saber beef was their only ace-in-the-hole, and they had, at Sudden’s suggestion, refrained from playing that card until they were forced to. Now, they could only hope that the young puncher himself would convince the jurors that the case against him was too fragile and flimsy to support a verdict of guilty.
The jury was arrayed on chairs set in two rows at right-angles to the bar, in front of which was a table and two chairs for the prisoner and his captor. Behind the bar a raised platform had been placed, which made of the long bar a kind of judicial bench behind which Harvey Mattingley, the circuit judge, would sit. He was, so one patron of the saloon informed a neighbor, due this morning from Tucson. An open space in front of the prisoner’s table had been left clear, presumably for anyone wishing to address or approach the bench, and at the side opposite the jury a witness-box consisting of a chair and an old reading lectern loaned by the Yavapai Valley Bank had been placed.
Shortly after half past nine a coach pulled to a halt in a cloud of dust outside the Marshal’s office. The few passers-by remarked on the fact that the horses had been punishingly used, and conjectured upon the identity of the visitor. They waited to see a short, rather corpulent man descend from the coach. Dressed in a suit of dark broadcloth, trousers fitted neatly into the tops of shining boots, a narrow-brimmed black hat and a soft white shirt with black four-in-hand, he looked like a preacher or a gambler except for a certain air of authority in his bearing which set him apart from these professions. The passers-by hurried to Tyler’s with the news that the judge had arrived as the short man went into Appleby’s office.
The Marshal rose to meet his visitor, an oily smile upon his face.
‘Yu’ll be Judge Mattingley, I’m guessin’,’ he said. ‘I’m Appleby, the Marshal.’
The visitor appeared not to see the proffered hand, and said, ‘Judge Mattingley was detained, I’m afraid. I have come to take his place. My name is Bleke.’
Appleby’s mouth fell open. This quiet little man with the shrewd grey eyes was an almost legendary figure. To have the Governor of Arizona come personally to superintend the trial was a surprise of such magnitude that Appleby was lost for words.
‘Don’t stand there with your mouth open, man,’ snapped Bleke, with just a shade of irritation in his voice. ‘Where does the hearing take place?’
Appleby took hold of himself. This could be turned to real advantage. If Bleke endorsed the verdict of the jury, and Appleby had taken certain steps to make that verdict a foregone conclusion, then Harris would be ruined and forced to leave the country. The hanging of the outlaw, Sudden, was incidental to Appleby’s plans. His thin mouth curved in satisfaction at the thought, none the less.
‘Right this way, Governor,’ he fawned. ‘We rigged up the saloon the best we could. They’ll bring Sudden over as soon as yu give the word.’
Bleke nodded and accompanied the Marshal to Tyler’s saloon. A hush fell on the audience as they entered, and Appleby nodded to Smithy to bring in the prisoner. Bleke took his seat behind the bar and surveyed the crowded room with cold eyes.
‘My name is Bleke,’ he told them, ignoring the hum of comment which his announcement caused. ‘I will be conducting this hearing and I want it known at the outset that I will tolerate no rowdiness or disorder. Let me make it quite clear. I can live up to my name when I have to.’ After a pause in which he let his double-meaning sink in, he turned to Appleby.
‘Where is the prisoner?’
‘He’s right here, Guv’nor,’ cackled old Smithy, leading in the tightly bound cowboy.
Bleke’s face tightened.
‘Why is this man tied up?’ he snapped.
‘Why … he’s … he’s a wanted murderer, Governor,’ stammered the Marshal.
‘I understood he was accused of murder, not guilty of it,’ Bleke rapped out. ‘Or have you tried him already?’
Appleby shook his head dumbly, and Bleke gave the order to cut Sudden loose.
‘Phew, he’s an ol’ tyrant, ain’t he?’ one spectator whispered to his neighbor. ‘I wonder what’s bitin’ him?’
‘Search me,’ retorted the listener. ‘Whatever it is, I bet he bit it first.’ They returned their attention to Bleke, who was leaning now across the bar, addressing the prisoner.
‘You are Sudden, the outlaw?’
‘Men call me that, seh.’
‘James Green is your real name?’
‘It’s the one I use,’ was the reply.
‘You understand that we are not interested in the fact that you are wanted in Texas, Mr. Green?’ Sudden nodded, his eyes veiled. The Governor asked him who would conduct his defense.
‘I reckon I’ll do ’er myself, seh,’ was the puncher’s reply, at which Bleke nodded to the Marshal.
‘We are ready, Marshal.’
Appleby stepped forward. ‘It’s my intention to show that the accused, James Green, alias Sudden, murdered’
‘Dispense with the icing, Marshal.’ The cold voice of the Governor cut into Appleby’s speech with an irritable intonation. Startled by the interruption Appleby turned to face Bleke.
‘That’s somewhat unconventional, Governor,’ he protested.
‘I’m inclined to be unconventional, Marshal,’ was the unsmiling reply. ‘Get on with it.’
Appleby nodded, and motioned to Randy Gunnison to enter the witness-box.
‘Tell the court what happened on the mornin’ o’ the day yore ol’ ma – yore father disappeared.’
‘Well … my father had been getting more and more upset about the steady losses the Saber had been suffering through rustling. He always thought that the nesters were behind it, but it was impossible to prove without starting a full-scale range war, and he did not want that. He told me that morning that he thought maybe if he talked to Jake Harris on a man-to-man basis they might get it settled.’
‘Did he tell anyone else about this?’
‘Not to my knowledge, no.’
‘Anyone else see him leave the ranch?’
‘Jim Dancy, our – my foreman, saw him go.’
Appleby turned to face the Governor. ‘Dancy’ll so state if yu wish, Governor.’
Bleke nodded. ‘Proceed,’ he said.
‘What time o’ day was it yore father left Saber?’
‘Just after breakfast. About seven, maybe seven-thirty.’
‘Yu tried to persuade him not to go?’
‘I told him he was mad to go up there alone. He said that if he took the men with him the nesters’d think it was a war party, and he didn’t want any shooting.’
‘What happened then?’
‘You know all this,’ protested Randy.
‘Shore, I was there,’ Appleby nodded. ‘But the Governor here ain’t heard the facts. Yu tell it just like it happened.’
‘Well … yu came in about ten o’clock. We were having coffee when Dancy came yelling in from the corral that my father’s horse had come home with blood on the saddle.’
Appleby turned to face the bench. ‘There was a lot o’ blood on the saddle,’ he told the Governor. I found pine needles caught in the hoss’s shoes, so I knew he’d been up in the Mesquites. That’s the only place yu can find needles that thick. We figgered something had happened, but we didn’t know what. I sent Dancy to try to back track the old man, but it was no use, he couldn’t find anythin’. I rode back into town for help.’
‘Why did you do that rather than wait for the Saber riders to come in off the range?’ interposed Bleke.
‘We figgered if Saber blundered up into the Mesquites in force the same thing Gunnison had feared would happen. In addition it was gettin’ dark. We didn’t know where to start lookin’ – that’s a fairly big area up there.’
The Marshal nodded to Gunnison and then turned to his prisoner. ‘Ask any questions yu want to,’ he said. Sudden got slowly to his feet and walked across the space to the witness-box. He stopped with his narrowed eyes only a foot from Randy Gunnison’s and shot out a question.
‘With yore father dead, who owns the Saber now?’
‘I don’t quite see … I suppose I do.’
‘How much would yu say Saber was worth?’
Gunnison turned towards Bleke, appealing for his support.
‘I don’t see what this is about,’ he remonstrated. Bleke’s expression did not change.
You will answer,’ he told Gunnison.
‘Oh, not that it matters,’ sniffed Randy. ‘About a hundred or a hundred and fifty thousand dollars. It would need an expert appraisal.’
‘So yu’ll be a rich man?’ pursued Sudden.
‘I don’t follow you.’
‘I’m suggestin’ that mebbe yu had a motive for killin’ Lafe Gunnison yoreself!’
Randolph Gunnison leapt to his feet. ‘How dare you say that!’ he screeched. ‘How dare you!’ Appleby was on his feet, too, protesting Sudden’s tactics, while Governor Bleke pounded on the bar for order.
‘Do you have any evidence to support such an accusation, Green?’ barked Bleke.
Sudden shook his head and returned to his seat, content to have planted a seed of doubt in the minds of those watching the proceedings.
A buzz of conversation arose as Appleby motioned Jim Dancy to the stand. It ceased abruptly at one rap of Bleke’s mallet.
‘Yu saw Lafe Gunnison leave the Saber?’ asked Appleby. Dancy nodded. ‘Now tell us: did Randolph Gunnison leave the ranch at any time after his father had gone, or up to the time I arrived?’
Dancy shook his head. ‘Nope. Not at all.’
‘He couldn’t’ve slipped out without yore seein’ him?’
‘Not possible,’ Dancy said emphatically.
Appleby sat down, and Sudden again stood. This time, however, he remained behind the table.
‘Did yu ever hear Wes Cameron mentioned by Lafe Gunnison?’
‘Not so as I can recall,’ Dancy said.
‘Yu know Cameron killed two homesteaders in town, o’ course.’
‘I know it. An’ I know what happened to Cameron because of it.’
Bleke’s gavel again raped as Dancy’s insult prompted a murmur from the spectators.
‘Yu don’t reckon Gunnison hired Cameron, then?’ asked Green.
‘I don’t know,’ Dancy said. ‘He mighta done.’
Sudden wheeled to face Randy Gunnison, who had returned to his seat in the front row of the court.
‘Yo’re still on oath, Gunnison,’ he snapped. ‘Did yore ol’ man hire Wes Cameron to kill them two men?’
‘Certainly not!’ came the emphatic denial. Sudden nodded grimly and motioned Jake Harris to come forward and take the stand.
‘One question, Mr. Harris,’ he told the homesteader. ‘Did yu hire Wes Cameron to kill two o’ yore friends?’
‘By God, Jim, if any other man but yu had asked that I’d kill him, court or no court! The answer’s no! No!’
Bleke leaned forward as the old homesteader rose from the chair.
‘You were probably justifiably angry at the way in which the question was put, Mr. Harris. Nevertheless, I draw attention to your outburst only to point out that I will not tolerate another in this court.’
Appleby stepped forward.
‘Just a minute, Jake, I got a question for yu.’ He rocked on his heels, waiting a moment for the tension to grow before he asked, ‘Did yu hire this Sudden feller knowin’ his reputation?’
‘I did. I reckon he’s probably not guilty o’ half the things they say he done.’
‘Nevertheless, yu hired him. A known killer. I’ll ask yu the question that Mr. Sudden forgot. Did yu hire him to kill Lafe Gunnison?’
This time Jake Harris had his temper firmly under control, although a vein throbbed in his forehead and the muscles of his neck bulged with the effort.
‘Certainly not,’ he managed.
‘If he did, he isn’t likely to admit it,’ sneered Randy Gunnison.
Bleke rapped the bar. ‘Another remark like that, my boy, and you’ll do thirty days for contempt of court. Hold your tongue!’
Gunnison subsided, but Sudden knew that Jake’s denial had been offset by the sly remark. He stood up and turned to Appleby.
‘Would yu take the stand, Marshal?’
Appleby looked his surprise, but his confidence was high. Yo’re on the run, Mr. Sudden, he gloated inwardly. He leaned back in the chair and faced his questioner.
‘Yu already heard Gunnison there say he was shore his old man didn’t hire Cameron. Yu heard Jake Harris swear on oath that he didn’t either. If neither o’ them hired Cameron, who did?’
‘I ain’t heard anyone say anything to show Cameron was hired at all,’ Appleby said with a cold smile.
‘Yu think he just rode in here by accident, picked a fight with Johnstone an’ Newley, killed ’em for no reason?’
‘He killed ’em in self-defense, far as I recall,’ Appleby reminded him. ‘So where does that leave yu?’ His voice was gloating.
‘The same place it leaves yu, actually,’ Green said. His smile was cold and mirthless, and for a moment Appleby felt an icy finger of panic touch his spine.
‘What yu drivin’ at, Green?’ he spat.
‘Yu ain’t answered the question yu asked everyone else, Marshal,’ Sudden said reasonably. ‘Where was yu when Gunnison was killed?’
Appleby’s jaw dropped. Too late he saw the hole in his plan, the one false step which this smiling devil had seen from the start. His mind raced furiously as he tried to anticipate Green’s questions and think simultaneously.
‘Yu left the Harris place an’ rode towards Saber,’ Sudden said inexorably. ‘At the same time yu was leavin’ the JH, Gunnison was leavin’ the Saber. Yu both took the same trail. Yet you didn’t see him. How come, Marshal?’
Appleby shrugged, maintaining an outward air of calmness which he hoped concealed his desperation.
‘Search me,’ he said. ‘Mebbe he didn’t use the trail. Mebbe he seen me an’ thought I was one o’ the homesteaders, an’ dodged me.’
‘Funny,’ Sudden snapped. ‘Yu arrest me claimin’ I ran into Gunnison an’ bumped him off – an’ he don’t even try to sidestep me – yet yu claim he dodges off the trail to avoid a man he knows well. Does that sound likely?’
A constant murmur of speculation washed around the room as the spectators, for the first time, realized that Appleby was in a position from which he could not extricate himself. Somehow the dark-haired cowboy had turned the tables; now it was the Marshal who was on trial, not Sudden.
‘I’m goin’ to repeat somethin’ yu said to me,’ Sudden told him, advancing to place himself squarely in front of the lawman. ‘I got a man who had the time, the opportunity, an’ the reason.’
Appleby’s eyes swept the courtroom wildly, seeking support from the faces of the spectators. None could he see; every face was set, and they awaited Sudden’s next words with tense anticipation. It was Appleby who spoke first, however, biting back the terror that threatened to rise in his throat.
‘Yo’re out o’ yore mind,’ he croaked. ‘Why would I want to kill Lafe Gunnison?’
Sudden turned to the Governor. ‘I got a surprise witness, seh.' He turned and pointed with his chin to where Terry Kitson was shepherding in an old man with graying hair and a silvery beard. Randy Gunnison half rose in his chair, a strangled sound coming from his throat. Appleby sat stock still, only his eyes moving.
Speculation about the old man’s identity created a buzz of talk in the room, but silence fell immediately Sudden started to speak.
‘Thisyere is Shorty Willis.’ he told Bleke. ‘Tell us yore story, Shorty.’
The old man nodded, and in a dry, cracked voice recounted the details which Sudden had heard, those many nights ago, in the little shack up in the mountains. There was dead silence as the spectators listened to the old man’s unvarnished account of how he had been fooled into looking after the Saber cattle, and of the involvement of Randy Gunnison and his foreman. There were harsh murmurs from some of the men watching, for treachery of this sort was outside even their easy-going set of moral rules. When the old man had finished speaking Sudden whirled to face Randolph Gunnison. ‘What have yu got to say, Gunnison?’
Randy Gunnison’s mouth opened but no sound came out. He tried to say something, but before he could utter the words another voice cut harshly in. It was the deep voice of Jim Dancy, and every word was a whiplash of contempt.
‘That damned ol’ desert-rat!’ he laughed. ‘He used to herd a few head for us up in the hills. I fired him about ten months ago when I found he was sellin’ beef to anyone who’d buy it! I would’a’ strung him up, ’ceptin’ for the fact he’s half crazy. Anyone takes his word for anything got to be more’n half loco hisself!’
Shorty Willis looked stunned as Dancy hurled these words into the silent room, stilling instantly the murmurs which, a moment before, had been directed against him and the son of Saber’s owner. Sudden muttered an oath beneath his breath. If Dancy had stayed silent a moment longer, Gunnison might have broken. Now, the man’s color was back, and he sat once more erect in his chair, his confidence bolstered by Dancy’s well-timed lies.
Bleke leaned forward to speak to Shorty. ‘Can you prove any of what you say?’ he asked.
Shorty shook his head. ‘It’s my word agin his,’ he muttered. ‘I can’t prove none of it. But them cattle is in that canyon, an’ Jim Dancy brung ’em up there!’
All eyes turned again to the burly Saber foreman, but his face was wreathed in a contemptuous sneer.
‘They’s no cattle in the Yavapais belongin’ to Saber!’ he stated flatly, and with sinking hearts Sudden’s friends realized that Dancy’s obvious confidence indicated that he had made sure the cattle were no longer in the canyon.
‘Hold yore hosses a moment, Dancy!’ Sudden’s voice was clarion clear, and halted the Saber man in his tracks as he swaggered back to his seat, amid the congratulations of his hangers-on.
Dancy turned, a frown appearing on his face. ‘What now?’ he growled. ‘Yu goin’ to make some more wild claims?’
‘Wait an’ see,’ Sudden advised him. He turned to face the jury. ‘A while back,’ he told them, ‘Susan Harris an’ Philadelphia, the kid workin’ on the Harris place, was shot at from ambush.’ An astonished murmur greeted this news; many of those present had not heard of this event. ‘Philadelphia an’ me tracked the bushwhacker as far as the Yavapai, where he crossed. It looked like he’d ridden to the Saber, so we rode over an’ talked to Lafe Gunnison about it.’
‘An’ got sent off with a flea in yore ear!’ said Dancy scornfully, to the accompaniment of laughter from some of the hearers, who could imagine old Lafe Gunnison’s reaction to the suggestion that the puncher was making.
‘Somethin’ happened yu don’t know about, Dancy,’ continued Sudden. ‘When we left the ranch, I doubled back an’ took a look in yore stables. I found a hoss that had been ridden hard, with sign on him that showed he’d been acrost the Yavapai. The jasper we’d trailed hadn’t bothered to cover his sign much. Anyway, I marked that hoss so I’d know him again.’
Dancy looked startled for a moment, then his bravado returned. ‘So what?’ he said.
Sudden turned to a bystander. ‘Would yu take a gander at Dancy’s sorrel outside? See if yu can find a hair-brand o’ my initials under the saddle – “JG”, it oughta be right easy to find.’
The man hastened to do Sudden’s bidding, while Dancy stood glaring at the puncher. His mind seethed as the whole room waited in silence for the verdict. It came like a thunderclap when the man at the door shouted in, ‘The hoss is branded just like this feller sez!’
There was immediate commotion in the courtroom, which lapsed into reluctant silence as Bleke pounded insistently with the hammer. The Governor turned towards Dancy.
‘Do you have any comment, Dancy?’ he queried, iron in his voice.
‘Hell, Governor,’ Dancy said querulously, ‘I ain’t denyin’ my hoss could be carryin’ this jasper’s brand. We on’y got his word for it that he done it when he said he done it.’
‘When else could I have done it, Dancy?’ Sudden asked relentlessly.
‘Makes no never mind when yu done it!’ snapped the foreman of the Saber. ‘It shore don’t prove I bushwhacked them kids up in the Mesquites!’
‘We trailed a bushwhacker to the Yavapai, an’ figgered he’d come from Saber. We find yore hoss hard used, with sign he’d been across the river. An’ yu deny yu know anythin’ about it?’ There was deep scorn in Sudden’s voice which found an echo in the babble of speculation his words loosed among the watchers.
‘I’ll tell yu all I know,’ Dancy rasped. ‘But it won’t do yu no good, mister. Yo’re tryin’ to throw sand in people’s eyes by takin’ their attention off the fac’ that yu killed Lafe Gunnison! Well, the hell with yu, Mr. Sudden! I wondered whether someone had been monkeyin’ around when I found one o’ my men buffaloed in the stables a few hours after yu’d left Saber. But nothin’ was stolen, an’ the man claimed he’d seen nothin’, so I let it ride. Now yu tell me yu marked my hoss, an’ expect these people to believe that it proves I took a shot at yore frien’s. Yo’re loco!’ He hurled the last two words at Sudden with undisguised venom, and the puncher saw the answering flash of triumph appear in Appleby’s eyes. He shook his head. Once again evidence of complicity had been negated by what amounted to brazen defiance. He could not prove that Dancy had been the ambusher, and Dancy knew it. At this juncture the Marshal rose to his feet.
‘Governor, this play-actin’s gone on long enough! This Sudden feller’s wastin’ time tryin’ to throw up enough dust to fog the minds o’ thisyere court. But every bit o’ so-called evidence he trots out is as phony as a three-dollar bill! I’m sayin’ we orta get on with what we come here for – to try a killer!’
There were several shouts of ‘Attaboy, Tom!’ and ‘That’s tellin’ him, Marshal!’ from the back of the saloon at this speech, and Sudden realized that so far he had done nothing to weaken the solid foundation which Appleby and his tools had built in this town. The uproar was stilled by Bleke, whose ice-cold voice silenced the angry cries within seconds.
‘Marshal, I think it fairly well established that on the face of the evidence either Green or yourself had the opportunity to kill Lafe Gunnison,’ rapped the Governor. ‘I do not appreciate your attempts at rabble-rousing. Don’t make the mistake of trying it again in front of me!’ He rapped the bar again for silence. ‘Is there any further evidence against this man you wish to present?’
Appleby shook his head sullenly. He took three steps and faced Sudden, his face contorted.
‘Well, Mr. Sudden,’ he hissed. ‘I ain’t got yu, but yu ain’t got me. Yu’ve accused me o’ killin’ Lafe Gunnison when every man in this town knows I’ve done my best to keep things peaceful here for two years. Yu’ve made other claims which ain’t done anythin’ except make yore standin’ in this town worse. Yu ain’t out o’ the woods yet, Sudden! I’m still aimin’ to find Lafe Gunnison’s killer, an’ I’m bettin’ on it bein’ yu!’
An angry sound rose from the massed spectators. Appleby’s words had cleverly played upon their loyalty, for among the townspeople he had a reputation for square dealing that had always been to their liking.
‘Yu lose yore bet, Appleby!’ boomed a voice from the back of the room. The Marshal whirled to face the direction from which the voice had come, his hand flying to the gun at his side. His hand closed on empty air, and he turned to see Sudden holding the weapon leveled at his chest.
‘Seen a ghost, Marshal?’ gritted Sudden. Indeed, Appleby’s face was ghastly enough to have convinced any onlooker that such was the case, and in truth the man was shaken by the sight which caused every man in the room to rise to his feet.
‘My Gawd, it’s Lafe Gunnison!’ shouted one spectator, unable to repress his astonishment any longer.
‘Yeah,’ said another. ‘What’s left o’ him.’
The old rancher looked like a man at death’s door as he limped down the aisle between the chairs. Supporting his huge bulk by means of one of his arms over their shoulders were Susan Harris and Philadelphia, his face slightly grey under his tan. Gunnison’s huge frame was wasted, and his formerly iron-grey hair had turned completely white. His face was marked by bruises and abrasions, and etched deep into his expression were the lines of pain and suffering. He lurched into the open space in front of the bench, spurning further help from Philadelphia and Susan, and came to a stop before his trembling son, who cowered before his father’s accusing finger.
‘There’s yore killer: my own son!’
A cry of rage arose from the spectators, who completely ignored the insistent pounding of Bleke’s gavel as they grabbed Randy Gunnison with none-too-gentle hands and stripped him of his hideaway gun, two men on each arm holding him prisoner as immutably as if he were chained to rock.
‘Yes, my own son tried to kill me. Damn near succeeded, too! He must have thought I was cashed, shore. Whoever tossed me in that dry wash up in the Mesquites didn’t even look to see if I was dead. I woke up with buzzards flapping around me. Laid there all day in the open. Finally, I managed to crawl to water. I must’ve passed out. I crawled a lot. All I knowed was it was downhill. Next thing I knew I was in a bed in the Harris place, with these two youngsters tendin’ my wounds. When I regained consciousness they told me what had happened.’ A dry cough racked his frame, and fresh redness stained the bandages around his chest. ‘It … it’s a lot worse than it looks,’ he managed, trying to smile. He turned to his son, pain in every line of his face. ‘I know yu never loved me,’ he gasped. ‘But why did yu try to kill me?’
Randolph Gunnison tried to wrench away from his captors, tried insanely to escape the accusation in his father’s staring eyes. His captors held him immovably.
Spittle formed at the corners of his mouth, and his eyes rolled madly. ‘I had to!’ he screamed ‘I had to! You kept asking and asking how I knew you hadn’t hired Cameron. I was scared you’d guess it was Appleby’
‘Shut up, yu damned fool!’ the Marshal roared in an agonized voice. ‘Shut yore stupid mouth!’
‘Take a mite o’ your own advice, Marshal,’ a cold voice warned him, and the lawman subsided as Sudden gestured minutely with the gun.
‘He’s been holding me to ransom ever since he came here!’ Randy Gunnison was raving. ‘I got into trouble in Santa Fe … cards. A woman. There was a shooting … I … ran. He followed me. Told me he could get me hung … had to do what he said. He said … if I did … he’d make me rich.’
‘Rich?’ coughed Gunnison. ‘How did he aim to make yu richer than I could?’ He reeled slightly, as though about to fall, and Sudden, thrusting the gun into the hands of a bystander with terse instructions to shoot Appleby if he moved an eyebrow, moved to support the old man. He lowered him gently to a chair, while Randy Gunnison continued to speak as though some trigger had been tripped in his mind and nothing could stop the flow of words.
‘He knew about … loot from robberies … the Jefferson gang … all hidden under a cabin, up in the Mesquites. Two hundred thousand dollars. Under one of the nester’s shacks.’
‘So he had to clear the nesters out afore he could look for the money,’ Sudden prompted the younger Gunnison.
A cackling laugh made him turn his head. Weak though he was, the old man was chortling in amusement.
‘He believed that ol’ fairy-tale?’ He coughed, pain wracking his face. ‘Hell, boy, there ain’t no money up there! Never was.’
Appleby made as if to step forward, and immediately heavy hands restrained him forcefully. He writhed in the grasp of his captors and spat, ‘Yo’re lyin’! I know there’s money up there!’ He stopped, a crafty look crossing his face.
Sudden twined to face him. ‘Yu were sayin’ …?’ he prompted.
‘I’ll see yu in hell,’ cursed the Marshal.
‘More’n likely,’ agreed Sudden equably. ‘Yo’re right, Marshal. There was money up there. It was under Reb Johnstone’s shack, and the total amount was … how much was it, Mr. Granger?’
‘Two hundred and twenty three thousand, six hundred and forty dollars, sir,’ announced the banker, enjoying the gasps of astonishment that the figures caused. Not a few of the men in the saloon looked at the struggling Appleby with sympathy for the first time since Gunnison had made his astounding entrance. The banker handed Sudden a large satchel, which the cowboy took across to Appleby.
‘This has been in the bank since the day yu killed Cameron,’ he said. ‘This is what yu lied for an’ murdered for, Marshal.’ He emptied the satchel on the floor. Men craned their necks, jostled and shoved to catch a glimpse of the cascade of paper which Sudden emptied at Appleby’s feet.
“Take a look at it!’ Sudden’s voice was a harsh command, and he snatched up a fistful of the money and thrust it under Appleby’s nose. ‘Take a good look, Appleby. Do yu know what the Jefferson boys stole? They robbed a train loaded with Confederate money that was being taken to Washington to be burned. Two hundred and twenty three thousand dollars – an’ not worth the paper they’re printed on.
‘No …’ Appleby’s face was grey. ‘No. Yo’re lyin’, yo’re lyin’, yo’re lyin’!’ His voice was a thin scream.
Randolph Gunnison, too, had been stricken by the revelation. He slumped now in the arms of the men who held him, weeping like a child. An astonished clatter of conversation filled the courtroom. Jake Harris pushed forward to ask his employee a question.
‘Shucks, that was easy, seh,’ Green told him. ‘I just checked the land office maps for ‘sixty-six, which was when they caught the Jefferson boys. They only showed one cabin up in the Mesquites. Location was nigh on the same as Johnstone’s. After that, it was only a matter o’ diggin’ it up.’
Now it was Lafe Gunnison’s turn to speak. He got slowly to his feet and approached the bar, behind which Governor Bleke sat, his grey eyes not missing a movement in the room.
‘Yo’re Bleke,’ Gunnison said softly.
‘Yes, Gunnison. I’m Bleke.’
‘It took yu long enough to get up here.’
Bleke smiled. ‘Oh, no,’ he told the old rancher. ‘I’ve been here some considerable time. Not in person, of course. But when I got your first letter I sent my special deputy.’
Appleby overheard this exchange and looked from Bleke to Gunnison in utter confusion.
‘He wrote to yu … about the Yavapai valley?’
Bleke nodded. ‘You were nothing like as subtle as you seem to think you were, Appleby. Green spotted you very quickly.’
‘Green?’ cried the lawman hoarsely. ‘What’s he got to do with it?’
‘Everything,’ Bleke told him, his voice cutting. ‘Green is my special deputy. He has been acting on my orders throughout.’
Jake Harris stepped forward, his eyes shining and his hand out-thrust. ‘I never thought I’d live to see the day I’d want to shake yore hand, Gunnison, but by God! I aim to do her now! If yu wrote to Governor Bleke askin’ for help, that’s all the proof I need that we can get along in the future.’
The two men shook hands warmly as a sullen rumble of thunder rattled the windows lightly and the sunlight outside turned a faintly darker shade of amber.
‘Storm buildin’ up in the Yavapais,’ muttered Shorty Willis.
‘It’s the time o’ year for them,’ another old-timer agreed.
Meanwhile, Bleke was beckoning to Gunnison and Sudden. His words stilled the hum of conversation which had arisen. ‘There is one final point to be cleared up, gentlemen. Who was behind all these raids on the property of the homesteaders?’
‘Well, Appleby was the brains, o’ course,’ Sudden said. ‘But his orders was carried out by?’
‘Stand damn still, every last one o’ yu!’ The command came from the grimly compressed lips of Jim Dancy, who had, as Sudden had started to indict him, leaped backwards towards the door of the saloon, clear of the clustered watchers of the drama in the court. A wicked sawn-off shotgun lay across his forearm, cocked and murderous.
‘Don’t nobody even blink,’ he warned the silent crowd, ‘or I’ll spread this crowd around some.’ He moved forward two steps and those nearest to him shrank backwards, away from the gaping muzzles of the shotgun. ‘Clear a way, damn yore eyes!’ grated the Saber foreman. ‘Yu’ – he gestured with the gun towards Appleby’s captors – ‘turn him loose!’ The men holding the Marshal’s arms complied hastily, and Appleby scuttled around until he was beside his companion in crime, dragging Susan Harris back with him, protecting his body with hers. He lifted a six-shooter from the holster of the nearest spectator, his face lit with a hellion’s smile. Sudden, unarmed, watched helplessly as Randy Gunnison wailed plaintively, ‘Dancy! What about me?’
‘Stay an’ hang, yu spineless Jessy!’ rasped Dancy.
Appleby was close to the door, gun cocked. His teeth shone whitely as he smiled wolfishly behind Dancy. ‘One last thing,’ he hissed. ‘For yu, Sudden!’ He raised the gun and fired, all in one movement, but the shot was hasty. Sudden felt the cold breath of the bullet on his temple, heard a grasping groan behind him from Randy Gunnison. The son of the Saber owner slumped to the floor, blood pumping from a wound near his heart.
Appleby had not waited to see the result of his shot; he was already through the door, dragging the struggling Susan Harris along with him. The batwings swung inwards as Dancy backed towards them and caught the burly Saber foreman on his shoulder, upsetting his balance for a fraction of a second. In that moment young Philadelphia moved, his gun belched flame. The bullet spun Dancy backwards out through the doors, the shotgun pellets blasting harmlessly into the ceiling. Dancy fell dead in the street outside as Sudden, scooping his gun belt out of the old jailer’s unresisting hands, dashed into the open in time to see Appleby thundering out of town towards the north, the girl slung half-conscious across his saddle in front of him.
Men spewed out of the saloon and one or two were about to fire after the fleeing lawman until Jake Harris stopped them with a sharp word; even if they were lucky enough to hit the fast-disappearing figure of Appleby, there was too much danger that Susan might also be hurt. Sudden was already in the saddle of the first horse he had found at the hitching-rail, and by the time others had followed his example he was out of the environs of the town and heading in pursuit of the fugitive lawman.
Over the prairies an evil yellow murk had descended. The Yavapais were already disappearing into slate-colored cloud, and lightning flickered once or twice.
‘Goin’ to be a real one when she comes,’ muttered Sudden, his eyes intent upon the dot on the open plain ahead which was Appleby. He cast a quick glance behind him. The rest of the pursuers were strung out in an uneven line, about two hundred yards to the rear. Off to his right he saw a lone horseman thundering eastwards, heading for the low hills lining the horizon, and wondered vaguely who it was. The first heavy spots of rain dashed against his face as he spurred the animal beneath him to ever greater speed. Slowly he drew nearer to his prey, pounding now along the trail towards the Mesquites.
‘Runnin’ scared an’ runnin’ blind,’ was Sudden’s first thought, but then he realized that such was not the case at all. Appleby was heading for the Badlands, the rough, flint-covered edging to the desert. ‘If he gets in there I’ll lose him shore,’ he told himself, renewing his efforts to coax even more speed from the horse, wishing as he did so that he had hat time to find Midnight, who would have run down with ease the double-laden animal Appleby was riding. Crooning to the horse, Sudden peered ahead into the murk. He was gaining on Appleby. The lawman was now only about five hundred yards ahead, and veering eastwards off the trail towards the Badlands. The rain was becoming heavier now; it splattered wickedly into Green’s eyes as he raced on.
‘Ain’t any better for him,’ he consoled himself. ‘Worse, probably … tryin’ to cope with the girl as well.’
Off to the left now he could just distinguish a dark mass which he realized must be the wooden bridge across Borracho Creek. A quick glance over his shoulder revealed no sign of the rest of the pursuers. He smiled grimly to himself.
‘He’s got to slow down for Borracho Creek,’ he thought. ‘Them crick sides are too steep to ride down at that speed.’ Then, ‘My Gawd!’
This last expletive was occasioned as Appleby, without slacking his horse’s speed one iota, hit the edge of Borracho Creek and went over. The horse tried frantically to keep its balance as its forefeet slid on the steep creek banks, the clay giving no purchase. With the double load, however, the animal could not stay upright, and with a scream that echoed shrilly across the now-silent prairie the horse fell forward, throwing its rider and his prisoner over its head. Susan Harris lay where she had fallen, stunned; but Appleby by some miracle was unhurt, and scrambled to the shelter of some large rocks scattered along the creek bed.
Pulling his mount to a sliding stop, Sudden threw himself to the ground as Appleby’s shots whined about his head. Slowly the puncher edged forward. Risking a quick glance around the side of the rock behind which he was crouched, he was just in time to discern, through the veil of rain, Appleby’s form scuttling up the creek towards another jumble of rocks. He threw a hasty shot at the fugitive, and edged forward. Below him he could see Susan Harris; she was stirring slightly as the drumming rain revived her. Sudden was wet through now, and he chanced a quick dash forward, hoping that the bad light and the rain would spoil Appleby’s aim. Several shots whined about him ineffectually as he slithered behind another rock, just at the edge of the creek bed. The rain had turned into a torrent now, and thunder crashed incessantly above them. From the south another thunder-roll, different in intensity and tone, caught his attention momentarily, but he dismissed the distraction as he concentrated upon his inch-by-inch forward progress. He slithered over the edge of the creek bed. Totally exposed now to Appleby’s shots, he rolled over on to his left side, trying to grasp the damp clay, to get enough purchase to throw a shot at Appleby if the lawman showed himself. His slide stopped when his questing hand clutched a sparse tuft of grama grass, and he found himself within a few feet of Susan Harris.
‘Yu all right, ma’am?’ he asked.
‘Yes … I think so. Is … is he …?’
‘No, he ain’t. I lost sight o’ him. I think he’s behind those rocks over there. Can yu move?’
‘I’ll try,’ she said gamely. But when she moved her leg she paled, her face twisted with pain. ‘It’s my ankle,’ she moaned. ‘I think I’ve twisted it.’
Green reached his left hand for her, digging his heels into the clay bank for purchase. It was no good. Her dead weight was too much for him to move one-handed. He holstered his revolver and pulled the girl towards him, hearing as he did so that same curious thunder that he had heard before, but louder now, and nearer. In that same moment Tom Appleby slid into sight over the edge of the creek bed, his gun cocked and aimed at Sudden’s heart.
‘Well, well,’ he jeered, panting. ‘Rescuin’ damsels in distress seems to be yore specialty, Sudden. I’ll see it’s carved on yore tombstone.’ So saying, he raised the six-shooter, his face distorted with hatred, while Sudden, taking one last desperate gamble, rolled sideways away from the expected shot, his mud-covered hand flashing for the holstered gun at his side. Before he had drawn properly a shot thundered out, and Appleby’s leg buckled under him. The shot which was to have killed Sudden whined off into the darkness, and Sudden’s shot, fired as he lay on his back supporting the dead weight of the girl, took the lawman high in the chest, sending him rearing upwards, toppling backwards, falling against the top level of the creek bed and sliding downwards at an angle on the rain-slick clay, to slump huddled in a heap at the bottom. For a moment Sudden thought he heard the man cursing him, but at that instant Philadelphia’s head appeared above him, and the boy yelled, ‘Jim! Jim! Get up here! Get up! Run for it!’ The thunder Sudden had heard before was now a roar, and it seemed to mount to monstrous proportions even as he heard it. A cold chill touched Sudden as he realized what it was.
Flash flood!
The heavy rains had gathered in the low foothills until they were rivulets, then streams, then together had channeled into this twisting creek bed to form a roaring, raging monster of a river. He remembered Jake Harris’s words to Philadelphia: ‘Keep a good fifty yards away if it looks like rain in the hills!’ Philadelphia’s extended hand helped him the last few feet up the side of the creek bed, and he scrambled to his feet, lifting the girl as if she weighed no more than a baby, and ran flat out up the slope and across the level prairie to where he had left the horse, paced by the hobbling Philadelphia. Behind them the thunder grew to incredible proportions and through the murk they could see vaguely a churning torrent of dark brown water sweeping along the creek bed towards the Yavapai. They lay in the pouring rain. their lungs laboring, as the water smashed down past them, hulling on its crest huge stones and uprooted trees, smashing them to gravel and kindling, roaring over the edges of the creek bed, lapping only a few yards from where the two men and the girl lay. In a few seconds a raging torrent filled the entire creek bed, and only the sound of the hissing rain and a growl of far-off thunder could be heard. Sudden looked bleakly at his companion, who stood with his arm about the shoulders of the sobbing Susan Harris.
‘I guess he probably never knew what hit him, huh, Jim?’ said Philadelphia.
Sudden nodded, a terrible weariness descending upon him. ‘I guess not,’ he said, glad that the boy had not heard Appleby’s final, terrible scream.
Two minutes later the townspeople found them.