Andy said. 'I set out for Lawless 'bout two hours later, an' when I got to the Old Mine I found him lyin' in the trail. His hoss was grazing close by, an' at first I thought he'd been pitched or had a sunstroke. Then I saw the blood-- he'd been shot in the back. Just as I stooped over him, he opened his eyes, said one word, an' was--gone.'
His voice tailed away to a whisper, and as he finished his head dropped despairingly. Tonia's arm pressed his shoulders in silent sympathy. She knew how he felt; she herself had faced the same tragic happening.
'What was the word?' the marshal asked.
'Sudden,' was the reply. 'That damned outlaw has bushwhacked my dad for a few paltry dollars. Marshal, we gotta get him; I'll never rest till--' His voice rose hysterically as he strove to stand up. Green pressed him back into his seat.
'We'll get him, sooner or later,' he promised, and his voice was stern. 'Yu stay with Miss Tonia till we fetch our bosses.'
They returned in a few moments to find Andy sitting tight-lipped, his dull gaze staring into vacancy. The girl stood silently by, her eyes filled with the tears she would not shed until the bereaved boy had gone. Clasping her two hands in his--he could not trust himself to speak--Andy mounted his pony and the three men set out for the scene of the tragedy, first calling at the bank, where they learned that the murdered man had drawn out five thousand dollars.
Slumped in his saddle, Bordene led the way at a fast lope. The shock of this, his first real rebuff in life, had driven the youthfulness from his face, leaving a grimness mingled with the grief. The marshal and his deputy followed in silence.
Less than an hour's riding brought them to the Old Mine, a little group of low, rocky mounds shrouded in small timber and brush through which the trail passed. A saddled horse was tied to a tree, but there was no body.
'I carried him into that hut,' Bordene explained, pointing to a rude cabin at the foot of one of the hillocks, the pathway to which was almost obscured by undergrowth.
Pushing their way through they came upon the murdered man. Green stopped and made a quick examination. 'Shot in the back--twice,' he said. 'An' the cash is missin', though there is some small change in the pockets; a Greaser wouldn't 'a' left that.' He rose and looked round. Two shining objects attracted his attention--used shells. 'Forty-fives,' he commented, slipping them into the pocket of his chaps. 'Pistol-work. Whereabout did yu find him, Andy?'
The young man pointed to where a bit of the trail lay in plain view, and Green began to examine the floor of the hut, which was of packed sand. Presently he stood up.
'I figure it was this way,' he said. 'The bushwhacker hid in here by the door--yu can see the marks of his heels--an' when the old man passed, he got him. Musta waited some time too, for he smoked three cigarettes.' He picked up the ends and broke one open. 'Good Bull Durham,' he added, sniffing the tobacco. 'No Mexican trash. We gotta find where he left his hoss.'
'What's the use of ail this, marshal?' broke in Bordene querulously. 'We know who did it.'
'Do we? Any fella can call hisself Sudden,' Green retorted, and his tone was so harsh that Pete looked at him in surprise. 'It would be a damn easy way o' blottin' a trail.'
The young man bit his lips. 'I didn't think o' that,' he admitted.
It did not take them long to find where the killer had hidden his horse. Just behind the hut the lower foliage of a tree had been nibbled, and a branch bore traces of having been chafed. Moreover, in the bark of the trunk, Green's quick eye discerned several hairs and the hoofprints showed that the animal had .. been restive. The hairs were black.
'Sudden is said to ride a black, ain't he?' Andy questioned.
'Yeah,' the marshal replied.
He was on his knees, studying the hoofprints carefully. Presently he stood up, and they went to the spot where the body had been found. The ground here was matted with the marks of both men and horses. Green pored over them for some time, gradually picked out the ones he wanted--those of the murderer's mount--and noted that they went south. Then he announced his decision.
'I'm goin' to follow his tracks,' he said. 'Pete, yu'll stay here while Andy goes to the Box B for a wagon an' some of his boys to take the old man to town: there'll have to be an enquiry.'
When the boy had gone, the marshal rolled and lighted a cigarette, and selecting a small rock, squatted and smoked in silence. His deputy stood it for a while, and then:
'Bordene is hard hit,' he said.
'He'll get over it,' Green replied. 'Ol' Man Trouble sits lightly on the shoulders o' youth an' is easy shook off.'
Silence again ensued, and presently the deputy tried once more:
'Ever run acrost this jasper, Sudden?' he asked, and this time he got a surprise.
'Yeah, I know him pretty well,' the marshal returned. He looked at his assistant reflectively for a moment, and then, with the air of one who has at last come to a decision, he went on, 'Pete, yu ain't got no more brain than a sage-hen, but I think yo're white, an' I'm goin' to gamble on it. Yu heard me pull up young Bordene pretty brisk just now an' mebbe wondered why?'
'Shore did,' Pete agreed.
'Well, here's the reason,' Green resumed. 'The fella that did this job an' brought off the other plays in this part o' the country ain't the genuine Sudden; he's just shovin' the blame on another man, yu sabe?'
'How'd yu know?' queried the deputy.
'Because I happen to be the real Sudden,' came the amazing answer.
For some moments Pete stared goggle-eyed at the man who had calmly claimed to be one of the most famous--or infamous--outlaws in the South-west, and then he shook his head knowingly and laughed.
'I'd never 'a' guessed it--me havin' no brain,' he grinned. 'Mighta suspected yu o' being Julius Caesar or OF King Cole, but--' He stopped short as he read the other's expression.
'May I be whittled to chips if he don't believe it hisself; musta bin eatin' loco-weed.'
'I'm givin' yu the straight goods, yu idjut,' the marshal said seriously. 'I'm the man they call Sudden down in Texas an' New Mexico. I came here to find Mister Sudden the Second--the fella who's buildin' me a reputation an' doin' well out of it. I don't claim to be no plaster saint, but I've had too many things hung on me a'ready an' I aim to stop it. I reckoned yu had to know who yu were trailin' with.'
Bar say got up, and if there was a smile on his face it was but an attempt to hide the feeling in his voice. 'Jim,' he said, 'I don't care if yo're forty outlaws rolled into one; I'm backin' yore game to a fare-yu-well.'
The marshal gripped the outthrust hand. 'I knowed I wasn't makin' a mistake,' he said. 'I'm thankin' yu, Pete.'
The plump little puncher scuffled his feet and looked uncomfortable. 'Shucks!' he muttered.
The marshal's reply put them back on their old easy footing. 'Awright, just listen to me. What I've told yu has gotta be kept tight behind yore teeth. If Lawless gets to know there'll be a necktie party an' we'll be the guests. Now, I'm goin' to trail Mister Bushwhacker. Yu go back with the body an' see if yu can learn anythin' in town.'
This arrangement was not to Barsay's liking, but his chief smiled away all his objections and forthwith departed. He left the little man with plenty to occupy his mind. Remarkable as was the revelation to which he had listened, doubt of it never occurred to him.
'I just knowed he warn't no ordinary puncher,' he muttered. 'Sudden, huh? He's all o' that, I reckon.'
CHAPTER VI
For a mile or more the marshal was able to maintain a fair pace, the tracks of the horse which had been tied behind the shack being plain. Presently, however, they turned off the beaten trail to the Box B, following a mere pathway which twisted tortuously through the brush. Green noted that the fugitive was heading south and making no effort to hide the fact. Pausing at the top of a slight ridge, he scanned the surrounding country.
There was no sign of his quarry, and, indeed, he had not expected there would be; in such country, the man might have been but a few hundred yards distant and still unseen. The marshal moved down the slope of the ridge, threaded a narrow arroyo, and pulled up again. In front lay an expanse of semi-desert, a broad stretch of sand relieved only by clumps of bunch-grass, cactus, and mesquite. The trail led straight on to this and abruptly vanished. For a moment the trailer was at a loss, and then he noticed that his hoof prints had also gone, the fine granular sand trickling back and filling up the depressions almost as soon as they were made.
