Bannerman the Enforcer 10 Page 8

  “I can’t allow this, Bannerman,” he barked. “Governor’s man or not ...”

  “Don’t buy in,” snapped Yancey, flicking the Colt at Tane and jabbing Latigo with the other gun. “Two more chances, Latigo. And the odds are way down now.”

  Latigo nodded, sounding and looking very, very sick.

  “Ch-Cherokee Morgan. Her old man’s place,” he gasped. “Dunno where it is. Somewheres out on Shadow Mesa, I think. She figures Dukes ruined her pa and drove him to his death. She wants to get back at him. She’s got someone big behind her, I guess. I wasn’t in on that part. Honest, Bannerman, I dunno where the place is.”

  Then Latigo passed out, whether from loss of blood, shock, or fear, Yancey didn’t know—or care. He had something to go on. He dropped the man’s gun and stood, turning to face the marshal.

  “You still in this?” he asked grimly.

  Tane frowned. “You’re kinda loco right now, Bannerman. I reckon I couldn’t reason with you if I tried. You just clear town and we won’t lock horns.”

  Yancey nodded curtly. “I won’t be sticking around long.” He raked his cold gaze around the crowd. “Anyone know where the old Morgan place is?”

  Some men shook their heads, others murmured, but most didn’t react at all.

  “Somewhere out on Shadow Mesa—like Latigo said,” Tane muttered. “It was operatin’ before this town even started. Been Morgans in this part of Texas for generations, I hear. They built a kind of fortress out on the mesa someplace but no one ever did get to know just where. You’ll have yourself a real hunt, Bannerman.”

  “I’ll find it,” Yancey said and jerked the gun barrel at the crowd. A passage was cleared for him at once as he started out of the alcove. He shot a brief glance at the unconscious Latigo. “I don’t much care whether he lives or not, Tane. But it was a fair shake. I beat him on a clean draw.”

  “I need a statement for my records.”

  Yancey smiled slowly. “Ask me next time I pass through.”

  “Which needn’t be any too soon as far as I’m concerned.”

  “Adios, marshal,” Yancey grinned and went swiftly out through the crowd.

  Once outside on the dark street, the Enforcer holstered his gun, vaulted into his saddle and galloped away across the plaza.

  But he didn’t ride out of town. He made his way towards a big, white, adobe house set beneath some cottonwoods. Yancey dismounted, went to the door, knocked and was shown inside by a Mexican servant.

  He waited in a paneled study for Abe Kennaway to join him.

  “Evenin’, Bannerman. What can I do for you? Have you eaten, by the way?”

  “I’m fine, thanks. Won’t beat about the bush, Kennaway. I need information and fast. Someone’s moved in and grabbed the Governor’s daughter. I think she’s being held at the old Morgan place out on Shadow Mesa but no one seems able to tell me where it’s located. You know the Mesa mighty well, don’t you?”

  Kennaway frowned and puffed at a cigar.

  “I’m sorry to hear about the abduction of Miss Dukes, Bannerman. But I guess I’m not really surprised.”

  Yancey frowned as Kennaway waved smoke away from his face.

  “Curt Callaghan was here, collecting back wages and so on. He sort of hinted there were people who might be pleased if I was to sort of let the word get around that the Governor used pressure to buy Bighorn from me at a cheap price.”

  “What’d you say to that?”

  Kennaway smiled. “Don’t be stupid, Bannerman. Politics don’t interest me. I threw Callaghan out.”

  “He say who was behind him?”

  “I gathered Cherokee Morgan. And there was a hint that there might be a senator somewhere in the background. I played ’em along a little. I was interested to know who was gunning for Dukes, too. I like Dukes as a Governor, you see.”

  Yancey nodded, only half listening. “A senator confirms my suspicions. I reckon the whole thing’s political. But I hear Cherokee Morgan’s got a vengeance motive.”

  Kennaway looked mildly surprised then nodded.

  “Of course she has. Her father asked Dukes for a subsidy to drill artesian wells out on the mesa. Long time ago. It was raised for some reason. The ranch went broke. Old man Morgan couldn’t face the shame and he—he blew his brains out.”

  “So much for the girl’s reasons. But just where is the place?”

  “Southwest corner of the mesa. High on a butte. Like a natural fortress. The trails were always well hidden—and guarded, too. Old man Morgan wasn’t above trading in a little liberated beef, but he put up a big social front and that was what drove him to suicide. I can draw you a rough sketch, but I don’t know how accurate it might be. Far as I know, no one’s been near the place in nigh on twenty years.”

  “Cherokee must’ve been mighty young when it happened.”

  “Kid of about ten. She was shipped out back East to kinfolk. She showed up in town a few months back and bought into the Palace. And I did hear that a senator is a silent partner.”

  “Then he’s the man after Dukes’ hide ... I’d be obliged for that map, Kennaway.”

  “No trouble.”

  Shortly afterwards, Yancey cleared the outskirts of San Antonio and galloped towards the Bighorn spread on Shadow Mesa.

  Eight – Fortress

  Kate Dukes was being held prisoner in a locked room in the old fortress. She stood against the wall by a barred window as she heard the door being unlocked.

  Kate was more angry than afraid: angry at herself for having been so thoroughly fooled by Cherokee Morgan and Curt Callaghan.

  The ex-ramrod had dropped a rope over her shoulders as Cherokee had led the way to the south end of Shadow Mesa.

  The ancient, rocky trail was tortuous and steep and broken in several places. It had been a dangerous journey, even though Cherokee had known a number of secret paths through old Indian tunnels carved into the sandstone butte.

  The door opened, and Kate instinctively felt that she wouldn’t live through the ordeal.

  Cherokee Morgan entered the room, followed by Curt Callaghan and a third, shorter man. She recognized him almost at once as Senator Jonas Kinnane.

  “Morning, Kate,” Kinnane said cordially. “Sorry for the inconvenience, but you’ll be treated well enough—as long as you do as you’re told. Any complaints so far?”

  “Would it make any difference if I had?”

  “I suppose not,” he chuckled, taking a paper from his pocket. “Just sign this and give me a lock of your hair and you won’t be bothered again for some considerable time.”

  Kate frowned, took the note, and quickly read it.

  Addressed to Dukes, the note simply said that Kate was being held prisoner and that he had to do exactly as he was instructed or she would be tortured to death. A lock of her hair was to be enclosed. Next time, it would be an ear or a finger.

  She screwed up the note and flung it on the floor. “I’m not signing that. My father has suffered a very severe heart attack. Something like that could well bring on another.”

  Kinnane made a sign and Callaghan stooped and picked up the note, smoothing the paper. He handed it to the senator.

  “Think how much more of a shock he’d get if your little finger was wrapped up in the paper, my dear.”

  Kate paled.

  Callaghan suddenly grabbed her and twisted her arms behind her back, bringing her to her toes and making her gasp. Cherokee reached out with a vicious tug and grabbed a handful of Kate’s brown hair. She produced a knife and sawed violently, hacking off a handful. Then she slapped Kate across the face and nodded to Callaghan who threw the girl into a corner.

  Kinnane held out the paper and a pencil.

  “Don’t be foolish, Kate. We can hurt you—terribly—without letting you die. We can keep you alive and suffering for weeks if we have to. All I ask is your normal signature. And I’ll know if it is. I’ve received enough letters from you in the Governor’s name.”

  Kate looke
d up at him, and pushed some strands of hair off her face.

  “Why, Senator? Why are you doing this?”

  Kinnane’s face straightened.

  “I want the Governorship. It’s as simple as that. I see this as an ideal time to make sure that I get it. If it was left to your father, he wouldn’t choose me to replace him, I know. But, in his—uh—delicate condition, and with you as our prisoner, I feel certain he’ll be glad to nominate me as his successor. He will, of course, retire, due to ill health.”

  Kate stared at him. “But he’ll never see me alive again, will he?” she whispered.

  Kinnane shrugged. “As long as he thinks he will, my dear, that’s what’s important. For now, leastways.”

  “Then why should I sign if I’m going to die anyway?” Cherokee twisted her fingers in Kate’s hair, yanked her head back and placed the flat of the knife blade against Kate’s cheek.

  “Because if you don’t sweetie, I’ll carve my initials on your face,” the redhead breathed. “And that’ll be just the start!”

  She flung Kate against the wall and Kinnane stepped closer with the note. Kate sat up slowly, looking at Cherokee and seeing the madness and cruelty in her green eyes.

  Her hands trembling, Kate took the note and pencil from the senator.

  ~*~

  Yancey Bannerman’s face was grim as he read the note. Dukes was propped up in bed on several pillows. Dr. Boles was taking his pulse as Cato watched.

  Yancey glanced up from the note.

  “Recognize the writing?”

  Dukes slowly shook his head.

  “Who do you figure it is?” Yancey asked.

  Dukes shrugged. “Who knows in politics? Could be someone I’ve figured as being my best friend. They see me in a weak position and move in pronto. That note says ‘prepare to appoint a new Governor’ so I reckon they figure I’m gonna retire permanent. But they’re wrong ...”

  “Wish they were right, Governor,” put in Dr. Boles. “You could well afford to do it.”

  “Tshaw! I can’t afford it! And I’m not talking about money. I can’t afford to step down and let some—some kidnapper govern Texas.”

  “They’ll use Kate as pressure,” Yancey said quietly.

  Dukes’ eyes flared with some of the old fire.

  “Let ’em try. You’ve already moved on that and done some mighty good work, Yance. I’m confident you and John can get her back safely. Besides—we don’t have any proof that they actually have her yet.”

  Yancey looked at him pityingly. “You’re fooling yourself, sir.”

  Dukes sighed. “Perhaps. I daresay I’ll get another note soon enough—with proof. Then I figure they’ll send someone in person with a final demand.”

  “We’ll have to trust Chisholm to guard you, Governor,” Yancey said, then turned to Cato. “Johnny, you sure you feel up to some rough trails?”

  “For Kate? I didn’t think you’d have to ask.”

  Yancey turned to face Dukes. “All right, Governor. We’ll start looking for this fortress while Chisholm stays with you. But I still think you ought to haul in some of the Rangers.”

  Dukes shook his head stubbornly. “No, Yance. I don’t want to scare this sidewinder off. If I’ve too many men around me, he won’t show. And I want to know who I’m dealing with.”

  Yancey seemed doubtful. “I dunno as I trust Chisholm that much. You’d be a damn sight safer if Johnny were to ...”

  Dukes cut him short. “No. You two operate best as a team. Go find Kate, and bring her back safe. I’ll be all right here. Chisholm’s all right. And Boles’ll be here. There’s the house staff as well.”

  “I’ll put two Rangers in the yard,” Yancey said firmly. “That way I’ll feel better.”

  Dukes sighed. “All right. But I’m not helpless.”

  Boles smiled crookedly. “I’d hate to see you when you are, then.”

  “Get the hell out of here and let me have some peace,” growled the Governor.

  Yancey and Cato nodded to Dukes and left the room, followed a moment later by Boles.

  Left alone, Dukes stared at the note. It had been delivered by a Mexican boy who knew nothing.

  Dukes tried to concentrate. He longed to know which one of his senators had suddenly become ambitious ... and desperate enough to abduct Kate. If she were harmed in any way, he swore he would kill everyone involved—as many as he could personally—the rest through the guns of his Enforcers.

  For the only thing that meant more to Lester Dukes than Texas, was Kate.

  ~*~

  It was late afternoon when they came to the butte. Yancey sat his saddle in the deep shadows under some trees while he studied the sides of the butte through his field glasses.

  “How’s the trail look?” Cato asked.

  “Can barely see it, then only in parts. Couple of places where it’s fallen away or been torn loose by landslides. Gaps are too big to jump a hoss over. Looks pretty nigh impassable to me.”

  He handed the glasses to Cato who studied the trail for a long time, finally lowering the glasses.

  “Don’t look like it’s been used in a coon’s age. Must be another way in.”

  “Not according to Abe Kennaway. That was what helped old man Morgan defend it against all comers. Just a single trail twisting up the sides of that butte.”

  “Well, their broncs must’ve sprouted wings to get across them gaps,” Cato said as he lifted the glasses and studied the trail again. He shook his head. “There’s no way anyone could get past those gaps on a horse. Might do it on foot, with ropes and so on ...” Suddenly he stiffened. “Wait. Someone’s comin’.”

  Yancey tensed and squinted at the butte as Cato continued to peer through the glasses.

  “By hell! There’s the answer, Yance. He came straight out of the hill. From behind some brush. Must be rock passages around the broken trail.”

  “Recognize him?”

  “Nope. But he’s alone—and headin’ this way.”

  “We’ll grab him, Johnny,” said Yancey, wheeling his mount and moving deeper into the trees. Cato eased his horse across the trail and disappeared among some rocks.

  The sun was washing the land with a blood-red glow before they heard the racing hoofs of the lone rider’s mount coming off the butte trail and hitting the flats. Yancey parted some branches and strained to see in the deep shadows cast by the butte.

  The rider would have to pass between the rocks and the trees.

  The man didn’t stand a chance. Two ropes silently snaked out of the semi-darkness and dropped over his head and shoulders. He was jerked violently from the saddle and he hit the trail in a cloud of dust, his horse running on a few yards before coming to a halt.

  Yancey and Cato shook their ropes free and let the man struggle to his knees. He gaped as he stared into the muzzle of Yancey’s Colt, while Cato took the man’s six-gun from his holster.

  “You from the old Morgan place?” Yancey asked.

  He swallowed and shook his head. “I—I work for one of the spreads round here. Been chasin’ strays.”

  “Up on the butte?” Cato scoffed. “Hogwash. Strays wouldn’t go up there when there’s lush grass down here. I say you come from Cherokee Morgan.”

  “I—dunno who you’re talkin’ about.”

  Yancey bunched up the front of the man’s shirt and hauled him roughly to his feet, then flung him against a rock. Cato pulled him forward and swiftly searched him. Among a lot of junk was a folded sheet of paper, sealed with a blob of red wax. Yancey saw the man’s face blanch as he took it and ripped it open. Something fell out.

  He stooped to pick it up. Even in the rapidly fading light, he recognized it as a handful of Kate’s hair.

  His face grim, Yancey swiftly read the note, addressed to Dukes, then handed it to Cato. Suddenly, he backhanded the man so violently that he fell to his hands and knees and hung there, spitting out a broken tooth and a mouthful of blood. Yancey kicked him in the ribs, dropping him full length. />
  Cato whistled softly as he glanced up from the note.

  “No doubt now. They got her in the old Morgan place.”

  Yancey nodded then nudged the gasping messenger with the toe of his boot. “And this bastard’s gonna show us how to get up that trail. Savvy?”

  The man wiped his bloody mouth and started to protest, but Yancey hauled him to his feet and flung him against the rock again, then rammed the muzzle of his gun beneath the man’s jaw.

  “Now, listen, clown. You show us the way up or I start takin’ you apart—a little at a time,” Yancey breathed. “A bullet through the gun hand to start. Then the shoulder. Then your other hand and shoulder. Next an ear, and after that …”

  “Okay!” the man shouted. “Judas! I ain’t hurt no one. The senator just hired me as a messenger and extra gun.”

  Yancey’s eyes narrowed. “Senator who?”

  “Kinnane.”

  Cato and Yancey exchanged glances.

  “Figures,” Cato said.

  “Yeah—but he’s supposed to be one of Dukes’ supporters.”

  “All’s fair—or somethin’.”

  Yancey nodded, dragged the messenger upright and rammed his gun into the man’s midriff.

  “Now take us up there, mister. One false move and we throw you clear off the butte. You savvy, punk?”

  The man nodded and licked his swollen lips.

  “I’ll—I’ll show you the way in.”

  “How many men they got?”

  “Five—maybe six.”

  “Guards?”

  “One—on the trail down from the rim. It’s narrow. They don’t figure on no one gettin’ through.”

  “We’ll get through,” Yancey said grimly. “And you’ll help us—or you’re one very dead little messenger.”

  The man nodded eagerly. He didn’t aim to buck them. Mounted again, the messenger riding between them and calling out directions to Cato in the lead, the trio started up the precarious trail that led to the butte and the fortress where Kate Dukes was being held prisoner.

  Nine – Rescue

  The guard’s rifle lever clashed noisily through the darkness as he jacked a shell into the breech.