Free Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 06 - Sudden Gold-Seeker(1937) by Oliver Strange

was
the object of general interest.
                 Mason
was grinning.
                 “Yu
might be Wild Bill hisself these toughs is so perlite,” he remarked.
                 “And
yu might be King Solomon if yu had any brains a-tall,” Sudden told him. “Lesurge
an’ Angel-face seem to have got themselves some friends.” They were sitting at
a table in a far corner and with them were several others, notably a fat, blond
fellow, flashily dressed, with a heavy watch-guard made of gold nuggets slung
across his vest. Interested as he was in the conversation, his pig-like eyes
roamed restlessly round the room and he saw all that was taking place.
                 “Reuben Stark, the owner o’ this shebang,” Sudden informed. “Dunno
the others but I’ll gamble they ain’t cyphers in this city o’ sin. Mister
Lesurge don’t waste his time an’ he’s whirlin’ a wide
loop. I’m goin’ to buck the tiger.” They strolled over to the roulette table
and again they had no trouble in getting near to it though there were plenty of
eager speculators. The puncher won about forty dollars in a few careless throws
and to the surprise of his companion, cashed in and turned away.
                 “But,
Jim, luck’s tannin’ yore way,” he protested.
                 “That’s
when to stop,” the other replied.
                 He
had fully expected to hear jeers at his lack of nerve from some of the
coarse-faced, half-intoxicated men around him, but not even a shoulder was
shrugged.
                 “You
got this town tamed,” Mason remarked, and hid a smile. “Yu oughta be in a show,
puttin’ the lions through their tricks.”
                 “It
has me beat,” Sudden said. “Wonder where Snowy is?” They met him outside and he
greeted them with boisterous expressions of goodwill. He reeked of whisky, but
there was no slur in his speech, no unsteadiness in his gait. It was Snowy’s
boast that he was never drunk until his back teeth were submerged.
                 “Paul
about?” he asked, when he had informed Mason that Miss Ducane was “fighting
fit.
                 “He’s
inside, with Stark an’ some others,” Sudden told him. Snowy nodded. “One smart
guy, Paul,” he said. “Won’t be long afore he’s runnin’ this yer burg an’ it’s
shorely time somebody took a holt , the killin’s an’
robberies is gittin’ too mighty prevalent.”
                 “Found
yore mine yet, Snowy?” Gerry inquired.
                 “No,
young fella, an’ I ain’t going to look for it till we got some sort o’
protection. It’ll keep; I ain’t in no hurry.”
                 “Some
other jasper may light on it,” Gerry persisted. “‘Tain’t likely, but if it did
happen that way I’d get me another; I can allus find gold—I smell it.” With a
wild laugh he pushed open the door of the saloon, turned and whispered, “Keep
handy,” and vanished.
                 “Mad
as a loon,” Mason decided.
                 “I
ain’t so shore,” his friend replied. “What I can’t savvy is why folks side-step
me like I was a rattler?” He got the solution to the problem a few nights later
as he was returning from the store where they obtained their supplies. A thin,
weedy shrimp of a man, whom he recognized as one of the group with Lesurge in
the Monte, stopped him.
                 “Say,
Mister Green, c’n I have a word with you?” he asked. The man shuffled his feet
and cast an oblique glance at a nearby dive. Obviously he did not want to talk
in the open, and Sudden therefore determined that he should.
                 “I
ain’t drinkin’,” he said. “Yu can trail along o’ me an’ sing yore song. I’m shy
yore name.”
                 “Berg,”
the other replied, and then went on with a rush, “You know Bill