Read Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 02 - Sudden(1933) for Free Online Page A

occurred to
its owner.
                 Getting
his horse, he mounted and rode slowly out of town, taking the westerly trail
which was the direct line to Old Stormy. Sitting listlessly in the saddle, head
down, he had an air of dejection utterly foreign to his nature. In truth, Luce
Burdette was in the depths of despair, for the events of the last two days had
wrecked the secret cherished hopes of months. How would Nan Purdie regard him
now —the reputed slayer of her brother? Despite the dormant enmity between the
two families, he had dared to dream, and even after the mysterious taking-off
of Old Burdette had nearly provoked an open rupture, had gone on doing so. But
this latest killing, so obviously a reprisal, must be the end of everything—for
him. And the dream had been so sweet!
                 Unknown
to all others, they had met at intervals—accidentally, as they both
pretended—and though no word of love had been uttered, eyes spoke to eyes and
told what the lips dared not say.
                 And
now, in the faint hope that he would see her, and be able to deny this damnable
thing that was being said of him, he was going to a spot where he had already
seen her several times, a sheltered little glade on the lower slopes of Old
Stormy.
                 It
was an ideal place for a lovers’ tryst—a tiny circle of grass, mosaiced with
flowers, almost entirely walled in by scrub-oak and other trees, with an
undergrowth of catclaw, prickly pear, and smaller shrubs. Burdette’s face fell
when he found that the glade was empty, though he had expected to find it so.
Dismounting, he trailed the reins and dropped on a prostrate tree-trunk which
had served them as a seat on happier occasions. With bowed head he sat there,
wondering.
                 Would
she come, and if she did, would she believe him? He asked himself over and over
again. It did not seem possible; she would take her father’s view, and he had
to admit that Purdie was justified—the evidence was damning.
                 A
whinny from his horse apprised him that someone was approaching, and he looked
up to see the girl he was waiting for. At the sight of him she checked her pony
for a moment and then came slowly on. Despite the very evident signs of grief,
she made a picture to fill the eye of a man. She rode astride, with the long
stirrup of the Arizona cowboy, and her mount—a mettlesome mustang—knew better
than to try any tricks. A dark shirt-waist, and divided skirt which reached to
the tops of her trim riding-boots, showed the curves of her slim figure, and
her honey-coloured hair, cut short almost like a boy’s, curled crisply beneath
the black wide-brimmed hat. Burdette saw the shadows under the deep blue eyes
which had always smiled at him, and choked down a curse. Hat in hand, he rose
to his feet.
                 “I
was hopin’ to see yu,” he said.
                 “I
didn’t expect ” the girl began, and then, “I couldn’t stay in the house; I had
to come out—just to convince myself that the world isn’t all ugly and wicked.”
                 The
poignant note of misery made him writhe. “Nan!” he cried, and his heart was in
his voice, “Yu don’t believe I did it, do yu?”
                 The
tear-laden eyes met his bravely. “If I thought that I wouldn’t even look at
you,” their owner said.
                 The
boy’s face lighted for a moment. “Then I don’t care who does think it,” he said
impulsively.
                 “It
makes no difference,” she told him. “ you are a
Burdette, I am a Purdie; no good can come of our—meeting.”
                 “But
if yu don’t believe the Burdettes did this thing,” he protested.
                 “I
didn’t say that, Luce,” she reminded him, and though she spoke softly there was
an underlying bitterness which told him only too