Chapter I
'It may be that I'm sending you to your death.'
Ominous words, delivered in a quiet, even tone by one to whom the masking of emotion had become a habit. Short, stockily built, of middle age, attired in a suit of sober black, with a 'boiled' shirt and neat cravat, there was little to distinguish him from the common herd. But looking into the shrewd grey eyes, one realized the sound judgment, courage, and determination which had placed him in authority. For this was Governor Bleke, of Arizona, a name respected, feared, or hated throughout that lawless land.
'Ain't tryin' to throw a scare into me, are yu, seh?'
The whimsical question evoked a flicker of a smile on the Governor's grave face; the speaker had not the appearance of one to be easily frightened. The long, wiry, narrow-hipped, wide-shouldered frame, clean-cut, tanned features, level, spaced, grey-blue eyes and firm jaw, all proclaimed that here was one with whom it would be unwise to trifle. Two guns, hanging low on his thighs, the holsters secured to his leathern chaps to ensure swift withdrawal, supplied a further warning. His range-rider's garb was plain and serviceable.
For a moment the elder man was silent, studying his companion, noting the curious glances at the shabby parlour, which was the best accommodation he had been able to find in the primitive little settlement dumped down in a waste of sagebrush desert.
'Wondering why I wanted you to meet me here, Jim?' he asked, and without waiting for an answer, 'Well, Tucson would have been too risky--my movements are watched--and it is important to my purpose that your connection with me should remain a secret.'
The cowboy smiled as he recalled the directions he had received: he was to be at Sandy Creek on a day named; in a saloon bar he would meet a 'stranger,' who would challenge him to a bout of poker, for which they would adjourn to the so-called hotel.
'I sorta guessed yu wouldn't travel a hundred miles to this dog's-body of a town just for a hand o' cyards,' he said.
'No, it's a much more serious game and the stakes are high,' Bleke replied. 'You may lose your life, and I--a friend.'
'Thank yu, seh,' the cowboy said. 'I'm sittin' in.'
A gleam of appreciation shone in the Governor's eyes, but what he said was, 'Damnation, I knew it, and I hate to ask you, but I believe you're the only man who can put it across.'
'Shoot, seh,' the other invited coolly.
Bleke lit a cigar, rolled another over the table to his guest; and, after a few contemplative puffs, began:
'There is a man in north-west Arizona who is defying me, the law I represent and was appointed to enforce; he has to be dealt with.' His keen gaze was on the younger man's face, but it told him nothing. 'Have you heard of Hell City?'
The cowboy's eyes widened just a fraction. 'Word of such a place has come to me, seh,' he said. 'Sorta hideout where a desperate man can find a welcome an' safety, no matter what he's done. I set it down as just a tale for a tenderfoot.'
The Governor's face was grim. 'Unfortunately, it is a true tale,' he replied. 'It accounts for most of the outrages in that part of the Territory and for the continued existence and activity of some most undesirable citizens.'
'yu know the location?'
'Yes, but that doesn't help much. Hell City has been described to me as a walled fortress which would need an army and artillery for its capture; I have neither. From it, bands of armed ruffians raid and rob in every direction, and for a hundred miles or more the country is in a state of terror. When complaints first began to come in, about a year ago, I sent a man to investigate. For months I had no news, and then he came back--in a coffin. Pinned to his breast was a jeering note inviting me to try again.'
'They ain't very well acquainted with yu, seh.'
The Governor's voice hardened. 'No, the challenge was unnecessary,' he went on. 'I sent again, and now I have--this.' He passed over a sheet of paper and the cowboy read:
DEAR GOVERNOR, your second spy was as clumsy as his predecessor. I shall return him when he ceases to be useful. He makes a fine target for pistol-practice, as the enclosures will show. Why not send a good man?
Adios, SATAN.
'That is the fantastic title this master-brigand has assumed,' The Governor explained. 'His followers he calls `Imps,' and their vengeance is so feared that no man dares to offend one of them.'
The cowboy was still studying the document. The writing was neat--that of an educated person--and the signature flaunting in its bold freedom. The callous ferocity, however, raised a doubt.
'Mebbe he's just puttin' up a bluff,' he suggested.
'The enclosures were ears; a pair, perforated by bullets,' Bleke replied. 'Well, if it's a bluff, I'm calling it. I'll send a good man--my best--if he will go.'
'Third time lucky,' the other smiled. 'Them ears has kinda got me interested.'
The Governor's expression remained grave. 'Thank you, Jim,' he said, but his tone betrayed a lingering reluctance; the very readiness of this reliant young fellow perturbed him, though he had depended upon it. 'You don't have to,' he continued. 'Think it over. This is a dangerous job; the man is reputed to be a marvellous shot.'
'King Burdette an' Whitey didn't waste much lead neither,' came the reminder, a reference to a previous exploit' which brought a ghost of a smile to the older man's lips.
'Oh, I know you can shoot, boy,' he said, 'but there's more than gun-play in this. The soundrel is clever and well organized. You'll need to play your cards mighty close, but there will be an ace amongst them which may turn the trick. Can you guess what it is?'
'If yu mean my name ...?'
'Exactly, this is one time when your bad reputation should help us. The others failed because, in some way, it became known they belonged to me, but I doubt if even the devil himself would suspect me of employing `Sudden,' a noted outlaw, wanted for robbery and worse in Texas. It is more than likely that this Satan fellow will welcome you; join his band and gain his confidence.'
The cowboy's face bore a bitter expression. 'I guess that won't be difficult,' he said. 'He's the on'y sort that has any use for me.'
The Governor nodded soberly; he knew something of the story of this black-haired young man who called himself 'James Green,' but was more widely known as 'Sudden,' a name already beginning to rank with those of the great gunmen of the West for daring and dexterity with his weapons.
Though he had no proof, he was convinced that the charge which had put a price on the youth's head was unfounded. 'I'm using you, Jim,' he said quietly.
The grey-blue eyes were instantly contrite. 'I'm right sorry,' Sudden said. 'Yu saved my self-respect; I ain't goin' to forget that--ever.'
'Nonsense, I got me a good man, that's all,' Bleke rejoined hastily--he had all the Westerner's aversion to being thanked--adding, with a dry smile, 'and I'm doing my best to lose him.'
'Shucks, I'll make it,' the cowboy said, with a confidence which was in no way boastfulness. 'I can't get over them ears; sort o' caper yu might expect from a Greaser, but yu say he's white.'
'His skin, yes, but his soul must be as black as the Pit,' the Governor replied. 'But he has a brain, a madman's, possibly, but the more cunning on that account. Move cautiously, Jim; remember that he'll suspect every stranger of coming from me, so don't show any eagerness to join him. I'm guessing that is where both my fellows slipped up, though I warned Dolver--the second--against it.'
Sudden smiled sardonically. 'Governor, I never knowed any parents,' he said. 'I was raised by redskins, an' the first thing they taught me was how to walk in the water. Mister Satan will have to ask me, an' mebbe more than
