Bannerman the Enforcer 3 Page 5

  Yancey smiled. “She is kind of persuasive ... But she has a point. Those guns are part of Texas history.”

  Dukes nodded. “Sure enough. It’s just that I feel kind of ... railroaded. She talks too damn much!” He sighed. “These enthusiasts! Well, like I told her, the search can go on as long as it takes the Texas Queen to reach Tyler’s Landing. If there’s no sign of the guns or the treasure by then, we can forget it. She’s welcome to continue at her own expense after that if she wants to. Mind you, if there’s a really promising lead when Rupe Harwood gets here, I’ll give her an extension. I’ll take your advice on that, Yancey, seeing as you and John will be working with her.”

  Yancey said quietly, “I figure we’ll have some trouble from Nathan Cross. I’m pretty sure he must know about that treasure, too, the way he was interested in the coins.”

  “Maybe he’ll stay out of it when he knows the search has got the official backing of the state.”

  Yancey looked dubious. “Cross is tougher than that. A little officialdom wouldn’t scare him. But we’ll see, I guess ...”

  ~*~

  It was obvious as soon as they approached the Bar S Bar ranch house that Nathan Cross wasn’t aiming to let any grass grow under his feet.

  The governor, with his secretary and Special Duty Rangers, had been safely settled in a suite of rooms in the big, rambling Saguaro Hotel, and Yancey and Cato had ridden out to the ranch accompanied by Julie Summers. She looked surprisingly different from the severe academic image she had presented in the governor’s rooms at Dallas. Now she had loosened her hair and it hung wild and free to her shoulders, giving her face a rounder, less spinsterish look and she was dressed in a split buckskin riding skirt, ankle-length, a checked shirt and corduroy jacket. A small, narrow-brimmed hat was perched rakishly on the back of her head and she was obviously enjoying riding fast across the range, urging her long-stepping chestnut on, lifting off the saddle, talking quietly into the laid-back ears.

  “I reckon she’s still an outdoor girl at heart, Yancey,” opined Cato as they rode after the girl.

  “Well, it seems old Abe raised her tough,” Yancey said. The girl was still as aggressive and commanding as she had been when she had first approached Governor Dukes. She left no doubt that she was in charge of the search.

  Yancey figured there were going to be some interesting times out on this range before the search was over, one way or another. For Cato was a man who liked to be in control of any situation involving a woman and he was already showing signs of irritation at the girl’s attitude. Yancey himself, whilst easy-going, had to consciously put down retorts he felt rising to his lips when Julie Summers started throwing her weight around. Likely she didn’t realize it, he conceded. She was, after all, a lecturer and she hadn’t quite realized yet that she was dealing with grown men and not a bunch of students.

  The girl, well ahead of Yancey and Cato, topped the last rise before the ranch and Yancey saw her arm lift to quirt her horse on for a fast run down the far side of the slope. But Julie’s arm stayed in mid-air, then she stood in the stirrups as she yanked heavily back on the reins and skidded the chestnut to a halt. The animal pranced, quivering, as Julie fought it to a standstill.

  “Trouble,” murmured Cato, and he spurred his own mount forward, Yancey a length behind.

  Before they reached the crest, the girl had turned her chestnut and was racing back towards them, waving to them to slow down.

  “What’s wrong?” Yancey demanded.

  “The ranch!” she said breathlessly. “Someone’s moved in!”

  Yancey frowned. “Ike McCabe was left in charge, ma’am. I guess he has other cowpokes with him.”

  She shook her head impatiently. “Back in Dallas, I had a telegraph message from Ike McCabe ... He quit. He said the rest of the crew had been paid off too. He didn’t go into details but said there was a letter for me explaining everything at the post office in town.”

  “Did you pick it up?” Cato asked.

  Julie shook her head. “I forgot in my anxiety to get out here and begin the search. Guess I didn’t think it important. But right now there are four horses tethered outside the house and I saw a man walking around. Someone has moved in!”

  “Some of the crew who haven’t pulled out yet?” suggested Yancey, but she shook her head again.

  “I doubt it. They wouldn’t be using the house, anyway.”

  Yancey and Cato exchanged glances. The girl was plainly distressed. This, after all, was her old home, where she had been raised. “You stay back here,” said Yancey abruptly. “Johnny and me will take a look-see.”

  He put his mount forward, Cato ranging alongside, and then the girl’s chestnut came level with them also. Yancey, without stopping his horse, hipped in the saddle to look at Julie. “There could be shooting, ma’am,” he warned.

  “I have a gun, too,” she told him calmly, patting the saddle carbine in its scabbard under her right leg. “And my pa taught me how to use it. So don’t waste time arguing with me!”

  Yancey sighed and shook his head slowly at Cato as the girl spurred a length ahead and started her chestnut back up the slope.

  “Yes, teacher!” Cato growled quietly and Yancey smiled. They stopped just before they reached the crest and Yancey dismounted, bellied up so he wasn’t skylined and took off his hat before lifting his head high enough to see down into the basin where the ranch house lay. There were four horses as Julie had said, but now there were four riders, also, preparing to mount up, and Yancey had no trouble in recognizing the big form of Lang Brodie as one of the men. He slid back to where the girl and Cato waited.

  “Looks like Nathan Cross has moved some men in,” he told them and, before he could continue, the girl slammed her heels into the chestnut’s sides and sent it racing over the crest. She was already pulling the carbine out of the scabbard as Yancey dived to get out of the way, cursing.

  She went over the top of the rise like crazy, carbine already in her hands, the lever working. Cato, swearing audibly, raced his mount after her as Yancey hit the stirrup with a leap and yelled at his bay to move. They hit the top of the rise just as the girl began shooting and they saw she was already a third of the way down the slope, carbine to her shoulder. The first shot hammered out at the same instant that the men below spotted her and the two riders coming over the hogback behind her. They went for their guns as Julie’s lead kicked up dust between two of the mounts. The horses reared and squealed as gravel stung their legs, pulled their reins free and pranced away. The men had six-guns out now and fanned off several wild shots at the girl. But she was using her knees to move the chestnut in a zigzag movement across the face of the slope and their lead was well clear of its mark. Her carbine crashed again, twice, and both bullets sent the remaining two mounts running, leaving the men afoot and exposed to gunfire in the center of the yard.

  Lang Brodie yelled and gestured back towards the house, making a run in that direction. Two of the others followed him but the fourth man raced for the barn. Julie’s carbine roared and the man went down, threshing, clutching at his left leg. Brodie turned and his hand chopped at the gun-hammer, fanning off the remainder of his shots, but he had no hope of finding target at that range. Cato’s rifle barked a fraction ahead of Yancey’s and Brodie spun to the ground, left hand clamped over his upper right arm as blood spurted. One of the other men, shooting at Julie, went over backwards, fell on top of Brodie and was still. The big brawler heaved him aside effortlessly and began to get to his feet. The remaining man threw his gun away and thrust his hands high in the air. Brodie staggered up and made another run for the house, still holding his wounded arm.

  Yancey rode the bay in fast, putting the animal between the big man and the house steps, and Brodie checked as he veered away, staring in disbelief as he recognized Yancey. Then the Enforcer spurred the bay forward, freed his boot from the stirrup and kicked Brodie in the side of the head. The big man went down, rolled, and started to climb back onto his fe
et, very slowly. Yancey slid out of leather and covered him with his Winchester. Julie and Cato had the other three men under their guns.

  “I’d be within my legal rights if I shot you down where you stand!” Julie snapped at Cross’ men, her eyes blazing, a strand of hair hanging over one eye and giving her a rakehell look as she moved the carbine’s smoking muzzle along the line of dusty men. “Breaking and entering; trespassing ... they can all earn you a bullet in these parts, whether you have the backing of Nathan Cross or not!”

  “Easy ma’am!” Yancey warned. “We’ve got ’em dead to rights. They won’t give any more trouble now.” He set his bleak eyes on Brodie. “That right, Brodie?”

  The big man merely glared, still clutching his wounded upper arm, the blood trickling in a slow river down his arm to drip from the back of his hand and his fingers. The other men nursed their wounds or stood apprehensively, hands raised, waiting.

  “Just what are you men doing here?” Julie demanded. “And I want a truthful answer.”

  “Or you’ll do what?” snarled Brodie. “Make us stand in the corner?”

  “Yes, I recognize you, Lang Brodie,” the girl said. “And I know Nathan Cross must have sent you here ... I daresay you had something to do with McCabe leaving, too.”

  “And his crew,” Brodie admitted freely. “You better go back to your schoolkids, Julie. Be a lot healthier than sidin’ these two.” He gestured at Yancey and Cato with a jerk of his head.

  “Changed your underwear yet, Brodie?” Yancey needled. “Last time I saw it it looked about ready to fall off you ...”

  Brodie flushed and his lips pulled back from his broken teeth. He spat an obscene curse and Cato prodded him hard in the midriff with his rifle barrel, driving the breath from him.

  “Don’t use language like that in front of ladies, mister,” Cato said soberly.

  Brodie hugged his stomach and glared. “I’ll break you in two, Shorty!”

  Cato, who was only about five-feet eight and weighed no more than a hundred and fifty pounds, grinned coldly. “Any time you’re loco enough to try,” he said quietly.

  “Forget it,” Yancey said. He raked his eyes over the other three, ignoring Brodie, figuring him for the tough one. Maybe they would get more cooperation out of the others. They looked scared enough, anyway, and the man with the wounded leg was moaning that he needed a sawbones. “You hombres are getting the questions now ... Forget Brodie. We’ll take care of him. And we’ll take care of you, too, unless we get the answers we want ... Now, you with the bleeding leg. If you want to get to a doctor before you bleed to death, tell me what you’re doing here. Pronto!”

  The man shot a swift glance at Brodie who glared back. “Go ahead and tell ’em!” he snarled. “And I’ll break your back!”

  Cato reversed his rifle and slammed the butt savagely into Brodie’s shins. The man yelled and collapsed back onto the porch steps. Cato casually shoved the rifle barrel into his face and held it there. He smiled widely. “Shut up!” he said very distinctly and met and held Brodie’s gaze, his own eyes colder than any blizzard that had swept that part of the country.

  Brodie went cross-eyed as he looked at the close gun-muzzle and said nothing. The wounded man swallowed and looked pleadingly at Julie.

  “We’re waiting!” she said coldly, and the man knew he could hope for no sympathy from her. He sighed, fidgeted a little then said:

  “Well, Nate kind of had us work the crew over. Startin’ with McCabe ... Then, when they finally moved out and you hadn’t showed, he reckoned you were likely stayin’ on at Dallas so he moved us in ...”

  “Why does he want Bar S Bar so badly?” Julie asked.

  The man shrugged, not looking in Brodie’s direction. “Well, something to do with some old coins Mesquite brought in after he had a run-in with your old man ... That’s all I know, honest! Mebbe he told Brodie more, but he didn’t tell us.”

  The other two men nodded in agreement and Brodie’s mouth twisted into a snarl. “You hombres better ride out of this neck of the woods—and fast! If Nate doesn’t kill you, I will, you gutless, yeller-bellied ... !”

  “We don’t need that, Brodie!” Julie cut in sharply. “So Nate Cross thought I wasn’t going to leave the university and that he could drive off my crew and move in here while he searched for the treasure ... Well, you tell him from me, Brodie, that I intend to work this ranch again, as my father wished. I’ll be here for some time but even after I return to Dallas, I’ll leave a trustworthy foreman and crew, and they’ll have express orders to shoot trespassers on sight. No questions, no second chances. If you’re found on Bar S Bar land, you’d better have a good reason for being here! Or you’ll be buried where you stand! Now get out, all of you!”

  One man licked his lips and asked tentatively, “All right if we catch our horses, ma’am?”

  “You walk back! I’m confiscating your horses,” she said.

  “What—what about me?” asked the man with the bleeding leg.

  “Maybe your friends will carry you,” Julie said coldly.

  Brodie raked his mean eyes around the trio with the guns. He nodded slowly. “All right. You hold the aces for now. But it won’t always be this way.” He rested his gaze on Yancey.

  Yancey said nothing, merely jerked his rifle barrel and Brodie started across the yard without glancing towards his men, holding his wounded arm. He continued on out of the yard and up the rise of the hogback. The others shuffled awkwardly, then lifted their wounded pard, got an arm each across their shoulders, and began to walk out of the yard.

  Julie and the two Enforcers watched them go, their faces blank.

  “No doubt Nathan Cross is onto the treasure,” Yancey said to the girl as the men struggled up the rise. Brodie was already going over the crest, not looking back.

  She nodded slowly, looking thoughtful. “I had hoped there wouldn’t be any trouble, but it was too much to hope for, I guess. Wherever there’s silver or gold there’s always trouble. And no one will believe that we’re mainly interested in the cannon and are only using the coins as a kind of trail to lead us to them.”

  “Well, the coins won’t be ignored if we find the guns and they’re stuffed full of ’em, ma’am,” Cato pointed out.

  “Of course not,” Julie said with a hint of impatience. “The treasure would make a magnificent historical display, but I don’t for one moment imagine it will be used for that purpose. If we find any treasure, it’ll be turned into hard cash, I’m sure of that.”

  There was a bitterness in her tone as she looked at the two Enforcers, perhaps accusingly.

  “That’ll have to be Governor Dukes’ decision, Miss Summers,” Yancey said formally. “I figure you should get that straight from the start. Guns or treasure or common artifacts, they all belong to the State of Texas. As the governor has made this an official search, the university will have first claim if he decides to make them available. But only then. In other words …”

  “In other words, Mr. Bannerman,” said the girl, “you are trying to put me in my place by telling me that I will have to wait on the governor’s pleasure before anything can be done with the treasure!”

  “Well, he’s tentatively agreed that your university gets one cannon for display, but I think he wants the other to go on show either at the Austin Museum or in San Antonio at The Alamo Museum ... But first we have to find them! What we do with them afterwards can be argued about then.”

  Julie looked at him coolly. “Very well.”

  She headed for the house and Cato arched his brows quizzically at Yancey. The big Enforcer shook his head with a heavy sigh. He reckoned Julie Summers was maybe going to be harder to handle than Nathan Cross and Lang Brodie.

  ~*~

  San Augustine was about halfway up the Sabine River and it was from here that Rupe Harwood figured the journey would slow down. The river began to narrow from this town on and there were shallows to negotiate. Whilst the Texas Queen didn’t draw much water, he needed to
have a good dependable channel he could use once he started shipping beef downriver to the Gulf ports. For Harwood never considered that his venture would fail. He was confident that it was a good idea and that was enough for him.

  But there were signs of trouble building up as they progressed further upriver. The paddle-wheeler put into shore at various small towns on the river, mainly at night and there was a distinct coolness towards Rupe and his men. And to Kate Dukes too, as soon as people realized she was travelling on the boat. Trail-herders could see their means of livelihood being threatened if the paddle-wheelers came and shipped the beef out instead of having massed herds driven overland to the meat markets. They were banding together, these trail-men, gathering numbers and strength, and the word was that they were riding along the river to the towns upstream ahead of the Texas Queen stirring up bad feelings against this riverboat that was coming to put them out of their jobs. And Harwood wasn’t even a Texan, they pointed out, even though the boat was called the Texas Queen! It was some damn plantation owner with cotton growing out of his ears and Creole women to tend him in a luxurious cabin ... so the stories went.

  Because he had heard these tales, Rupe Harwood took pains to dress casually, in white, loose-sleeved shirt, a battered mariner’s cap cocked over one eye and whipcord trousers stuffed into the tops of work worn half boots. He wore a Smith and Wesson double-action American pistol in .44 caliber at his belt in a tan-colored holster with a half-flap that clipped snugly across the trigger guard and held the gun in place.