Free Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 02 - Sudden(1933) by Oliver Strange

outfit, an’ the on’y one yu may have trouble with,” Purdie
said, for the foreman’s ear only. “Been actin’ sorta segundo to Kit, an’ he’s
mebbe got ambitions. I’m leavin’ yu to deal with him, yore own way; when I put
a fella in charge I don’t interfere.”
                 He
went out, nodding to an embarrassed outfit, and a
foreman who, nonchalantly rolling a smoke, awaited the coming “trouble.” For he
felt pretty sure that the absence of the oldest hand was a premeditated
gesture, the first move in a plan of protest against his appointment. There was
an air of expectancy about the waiting men. From outside came a hail :
                 “Hey,
Bill, the noo foreman wants to see yu.”
                 “Is
that so?” a rumbling voice replied. “Which I’m shorely sorry
to keep His Royal ‘Ighness waitin’. What’s he like, this foreman fella?”
                 They
could not hear the answer, but the deep voice was not so reticent. “So we gotta
be bossed by a boy, huh?” it said.
                 “Well,
Kit warn’t no greybeard.”
                 “He
was the Old Man’s son—future owner o’ the ranch, which is some different. How
do we know this yer hombre ain’t been planted on us by the Circle B? He may’ve
pulled the wool over Purdie’s eyes, but he’s gotta talk straight to me, yu
betcha. Just yu watch yore Uncle Bill.”
                 He
swaggered through the bunkhouse door, and the new foreman’s eyes twinkled when
they rested on the short, sturdy figure, with its broad shoulders, long arms,
and slightly-bowed legs, of this man he might have trouble with. The amusement
was only momentary, and his face was gravity itself when he nodded to the
newcomer. None of the outfit noticed that in removing his cigarette his fingers
had rested for an instant on his lips; their attention was centred on their
companion. What had come over him they could not imagine, but at the sight of
the new foreman the belligerent frown had vanished, and his craggy,
clean-shaven features expressed only goggling amazement.
                 “Yu
wantin’ me?” he had growled on entering, and straightway become dumb, one hand
pushing back his big hat and revealing the straggly wisps of hair beneath.
                 “Glad
to meet you, Mister…?” The foreman paused. “Yago—Bill Yago,” the man replied
like one in a dream.
                 “Shore,”
the newcomer nodded. “Purdie said yu would put me wise. Now, yu tell the boys
what needs doin’ today, an’ then yu an’ me’ll take a
look at the range.”
                 “I’m
a-watchin’ yu, Uncle,” whispered a voice.
                 Yago
whirled round. “Yu, Curly, go get some wire an’ mend the fence round The Sump,”
he ordered. “I had to pull two critters out’n her yestiddy.”
                 The
joker’s face dropped in dismay; a coil of barbed wire is awkward to handle on
foot; on horseback it becomes a pest; moreover, it was some distance to the
quagmire, and if there is anything a cowboy thoroughly detests it is making or
mending a fence.
                 “Aw,
Bill…” the victim began.
                 “Beat
it,” Yago snapped, and proceeded to apportion work to the rest of the outfit.
                 Ten
minutes later he and the new foreman were riding up the slope at the back of
the ranch. Not until they were hidden by the pines did either of them speak,
and then Yago turned to his companion.
                 “Jim,
I’m almighty glad to see yu, but what in thunderation brung yu to these parts?”
he asked.
                 Sudden’s
reply was incomplete.
                 “As
for bein’ glad, yu looked more like yu’d been struck by lightnin’,” he smiled.
“ There’s me, shiverin’ in my shoes, waitin’ for a big
stiff to come