Bannerman the Enforcer 13 Page 8
But if Yancey had doubted the need for having Ranger guards, he changed his mind when Dr. Sussex met the group in the passage of the infirmary. The big medic got right down to business about what was to be done by way of preparation and then glanced at the two silent Rangers. He looked at Yancey and Kate.
“As you know, the infirmary provided me with a room for my own use while I’m here,” he said and, puzzled a little, Kate nodded, waiting for more. “I slept there last night.” He turned to the Rangers again. “You men will find a man in there now ... He has a broken neck.”
The Rangers tensed and Kate put a hand to her mouth. Dr. Boles frowned and Yancey looked sharply at the big man from Philadelphia.
“Some sawbones!” he opined quietly.
Sussex smiled crookedly. “Yes. My medical knowledge came in handy, though I didn’t really mean to put him permanently out of action.”
“What in hell happened?” Yancey asked.
“The man broke in and tried to kill me,” Sussex said, surprisingly calm. “He had a knife. I think I broke his wrist getting it away from him and then, when he reached for his gun I grabbed him and, during the struggle, I somehow broke his neck … I would say that this indicates it’s most important that I make a success of your operation, Yancey.”
“I’ve been thinking that all along,” Yancey said, looking at the big man’s hands. Could the same hands that could snap a man’s neck so effortlessly, wield a scalpel delicately enough to lift a piece of bone from his brain?
By God, he hoped so! Despite himself, an involuntary shiver went through his body.
~*~
Cato knew they would show soon. They had to. That doctor whom Marnie had brought to the house had casually remarked that he had treated a man with a broken jaw that morning. A red-haired man with a deep, livid scar on his neck. It had to be the same man Cato had unhorsed in the hills before making his break.
They must have at least followed him back to Concho, he reckoned. The doctor had told him there had been veiled questions from the man with the busted jaw about anyone riding in with a bullet wound. The sawbones had told him he had treated no one like that, but likely they would watch the medic. They would know that Marnie worked for him. If he visited her house, they would be suspicious. And he had been in to doctor Cato’s wound; it had required stitching and he told Cato he would need rest for at least a week. Cato hadn’t said anything; he had his own ideas about how much rest he needed. Or could afford to take ...
He stayed in the bed, but with the Manstopper on the counterpane beside him. Marnie had fixed double drapes ever the window so that anyone outside could not see in. The horse he had ridden in had been put out of sight in the stables of a friend of the girl’s; Cato was reluctant to get rid of the animal altogether, figuring he might need it again.
He busied himself working out a coded message to send to Austin. He had to make it sound innocent enough in case anyone intercepted it, but he had to try to convey his exact meaning to the governor when it was decoded. It wasn’t easy. The wire would be addressed to one of several of the governor’s agents in Austin, people who ran legitimate businesses but who acted as go-betweens for messages coming in to Dukes from his far-flung agents. They didn’t even know themselves that the mysterious messages were destined for the governor, but thought they were something to do with the Rangers. Cato finally got the message worked out to his satisfaction and figured to have Marnie send it off that evening.
He was pretty well exhausted after the gunfight and the wild ride back to Concho, and he dozed for a spell, but awakened with a start to hear a pounding on the front door of the cabin. Cato snatched up the Manstopper and started to swing his legs over the side of the bed, gritting his teeth as pain knifed through him from the stitched wound in his side. The books he had been using to help him compile his message to Dukes slithered to the floor with a dull clatter, He froze. After a spell, there was a knock on the door again, followed by several more.
Holding his side, Cato moved to the window, Manstopper heavy in his right hand, the hammer cocked back. He used the muzzle to ease aside the heavy drapes, flattened himself along the wall in an effort to see the front of the cabin. It was mighty difficult from the position of the room. The pounding on the door continued, then ceased.
Cato waited with gun raised, frowning, ears straining to catch the slightest sound. It came after maybe a half-minute; the crunch of gravel under a boot, and almost outside his window. He couldn’t see anyone so the man must be on the side away from the drape he still held open an inch or so. He eased it down and waited. The sound of footsteps came again, and then there were slight, scraping sounds and he knew whoever it was out there was trying to raise the window, but it was securely locked. It wouldn’t keep out a man intent on killing, but if the man were just looking around, he wouldn’t smash it in.
Cato was right. The scraping sounds continued for a little longer and he heard the slight grunt as the man strained hard. The window frame creaked and he thought he saw one of the screws move in the catch, but it held. Then he heard the boots moving away down the side of the cabin. He didn’t move, still listening. There were other small sounds that told him whoever it was was trying all the windows. The back door rattled and he hoped that Marnie had put the locking peg in above the latch. The door fairly shook in its frame and he knew the man must be pretty well convinced that no one was in the house now, to make all that much noise.
After a while, the door stopped rattling and he heard the boots coming back down the side of the cabin where he crouched. They paused outside the window and he knew the heavy drapes were bothering the man. It would be the only room he was unable to see into and he would figure those drapes were hiding something. He tried the window again, really straining, but giving up when the latch held. After a spell he walked away and Cato very slightly eased the drapes apart where they hung together naturally down the center of the window. He pulled the cloth apart just a crack, enough to see out into the yard, though the view was distorted some by the fibers of the cloth.
He saw a tall, lean man in gray broadcloth suit, with steel-gray hair showing under his narrow-brimmed hat. Even as he watched, the man paused and half-turned back towards the cabin. His face was narrow and a large nose hung above a hairline mustache fringing his upper lip. Cato picked him for some sort of businessman; there was no gun in evidence, which didn’t mean much. He could be wearing a shoulder holster or a gambler’s rig with a derringer up his sleeve.
The man frowned thoughtfully at the cabin, then turned and continued on out of the yard.
Cato let the drapes close and groped his way back to the bed, sitting down on the edge, rubbing gently at the wound. He was sure the lean man was one of them, just scouting around this time. But he, or someone else, would be back; and this time there would be no stopping them just with a locked window or door. If they suspected he was there, they would come in with guns blazing and the girl would be hurt, too, if she got in the way ...
He said nothing to the girl at supper and she chatted on about her busy day with the doctor. Then his ears pricked up as she said casually:
“The local land agent came to see me, too ... He thinks he has a client who might be interested in buying my cabin. At considerably more than I paid for it.”
“Sounds like a good deal. You goin’ for it?”
Marnie gave him a faint smile. “Do you think I should?”
He shrugged. “It’s your cabin.”
“Mmmm ... He wants to know if it’s convenient for him to come and look the place over tonight.”
Cato checked with his fork halfway to his mouth and then set the food back on the platter. “Bringing his client?”
“Oh, yes. A Mr. Tyrell.”
The name meant nothing to Cato, but then he hadn’t expected it would. “What’d you tell him?”
“I told him it wouldn’t be convenient …” Then she sobered and the light bantering tone went from her voice. “I had the impression f
rom what Sanders, the agent, said, he had already seen the place close up ... Today.”
“What’s this Sanders look like?”
“Tall, lean, hairline mustache, gray hair, broadcloth suit,”
“He was here. Nosin’ around. Tried to open the window of this room a few times.”
Now she looked alarmed. “Do you think he saw in here? Or suspected there was someone in the house?”
“I guess he suspected, all right. Otherwise he wouldn’t have been here.”
“You think someone sent him, then? To check up?”
“Don’t you?”
She sighed. “I guess so ... I was suspicious right away. I know there are four cabins on this hillside vacant and up for sale. They’re almost exactly the same as this one. There’s no reason why anyone would want this one over any of the others. And the price he claimed his client was willing to pay is ridiculous.”
“Playin’ it safe by tryin’ to make it an offer you can’t turn down. What’d he say when you told him he couldn’t come tonight?”
“He tried to make a definite appointment but I told him I really wasn’t interested in selling. He said he’d pass the word along to his client.”
Cato tapped the fork against the edge of his plate. “They’ll be watching the place like hawks. You haven’t seen that friend of yours who was puttin’ up the horse today?”
“As a matter of fact, I have ... He said the horse seemed to have wandered off but I said not to worry about it. Is that all right?”
“Normally, maybe,” Cato said a little grimly. “But my guess is it didn’t wander off so much as someone took it to make sure it was the redhead’s horse. They know for sure I made it back to Concho and they’ll figure I’m here. You could be in danger, Marnie.”
“I could! What about you?”
He grinned tightly. “My normal diet ... They mightn’t make an open move against this place until they’re sure I’m here, but if you happen to be around when they find out …”
“I know how and when to keep my head down,” the girl told him swiftly. “But it might all be perfectly true, I suppose ...”
“Possible ... But I guess maybe the governor’ll compensate you if you miss out on a sale.”
She waved that aside. “Don’t be ridiculous, John. I’m not worried about that.” She stood up from her chair by the bedside table. “You said you wanted me to send some telegrams for you.”
“Yeah. You might keep an eye out when you do. See if Sanders or anyone who works for him is about, specially a redhead with a wired-up jaw. And somethin’ else, Marnie. I’ll move out of this room tonight.”
She looked startled.
“It’ll be best. We’ll try to throw ’em some. I’ll move into your room tomorrow while you’re at work. The drapes over this window will be open a little, and they’ll be able to look in. But all they’ll see is an empty room with some junk maybe stored in it. Be best if they can get a look in and satisfy their curiosity. They might stop botherin’ you then, though I figure they’ll watch the place just to be sure.”
“I understand your strategy, John,” she said slowly. “But you can’t be sleeping curled-up on a sofa with a wound in your side like that. It’s why I moved my bed in here for you.”
“Well, I’ll manage on the floor or somewhere ... Main thing is to give ’em a look-see into this room so they can see for themselves that it’s empty or just a junk room.”
She nodded, but seemed deep in thought. Her hands played with the front of her dress and there was a little color darkening her cheeks as she looked at him levelly and said very quietly, “Can’t see any point in your being uncomfortable ... That’s a—a—double bed …” She broke off, flushing deeply now.
Cato stared, somewhat surprised, then a slow smile spread across his face. “Hope you don’t snore!”
She looked surprised then laughed, the tension suddenly broken. “You can tell me in the morning.”
~*~
The girl had scarcely left for work before Cato heard someone outside in the yard. He slid out of the bed and dropped lightly to the floor away from the window, using the bed as cover. Marnie had made her side of the bed so his disarrayed side would look like she hadn’t taken time to make up the bed before leaving for work. He could see the shape at the window, outlined on the wall by the sunlight. A shadow darkened it and he made out a man’s head as he paused to look in. It wasn’t Sanders this time, he figured. The hat brim was too wide and he could see a fuzziness around the jaw like stubble. Or maybe it was surgical tape holding a wired-up jaw in place ...
The man didn’t stay at the window for long, but moved on and Cato slid across to the window and was able to look out and see the prowler’s shoulder as he paused to check the spare room through the carefully disarrayed drapes. He didn’t see the man fully, but, from the fleeting glimpses he caught of him Cato reckoned it was the redhead from the hills …
That night the girl told him that Sanders had been back, raising his offer and still wanting to ‘show his client around’ the cabin. Once again she had stalled him.
“Well, they know the spare room’s full of junk now,” Cato told her. “Likely they won’t be satisfied until they see all through the place. Mebbe I can slip along to this friend of yours before daylight and then, if Sanders comes round again, you can bring him up and show him through. We’ll have to make certain there’s nothin’ that can be connected with me left in here, though. After he’s gone, I can slip back.”
The girl frowned. “You’re not supposed to be moving about at all, John! Those stitches won’t hold if you move around!”
He stared levelly at the girl and looked down at the bed. She flushed and he grinned ...
Sanders was back pestering Marnie the next morning and she brought him to the empty cabin and showed him around, asking where was his client. Sanders made some excuse, said the man would take his opinion of the cabin, and examined it minutely. Cato had been very careful not to leave anything that might give away his presence. Sanders left, saying he would let Marnie know his client’s decision.
That night she brought Cato a reply to his wire and he spent some time decoding it. He looked grim when he had finished.
“Bad news?” she asked.
“Kind of,” he said. “My pard’s been operated on and hasn’t come round yet. Doctor’s worried. Kate’s afraid when he does finally come out of it he might be—well, feeble-minded. Seems the operation was more complicated than the surgeon figured.”
Marnie clasped his hand tightly. There was warmth and compassion in her eyes but she knew there was nothing she could say. What was done was done. They would just have to wait and see now. She was just grateful that Cato was making such good progress. He should be ready to have the stitches out soon.
Eight – On the Run
Cato was too impatient to wait any longer. He felt okay as long as he moved gently and protected his side. Hanging around the cabin day after day wasn’t to his liking. He felt like a sitting duck. There had been no more prowlers but that didn’t mean that they weren’t watching the cabin. He figured to play it another way, use shock tactics.
He was through arguing with Marnie, who had tried to dissuade him every time he suggested venturing out of the cabin. She warned him that the wound might open up again and then he would be in real trouble. Cato had his own ideas about how fit he was. He had asked her to see Sanders and ask about the ‘offer’ for the cabin. Naturally, the man had claimed his client had changed his mind.
So Cato stayed in bed as usual until Marnie went off to work, and then he got up and dressed himself slowly. He wasn’t as steady on his feet as he would have liked but nothing could be done about that. As an afterthought, he took off his shirt again and wrapped a torn-up sheet around his midriff, padding the area over his wound. He could just manage to struggle into his shirt again. Then he checked the Manstopper’s loads and strapped on his gunrig, jammed his new hat onto his head and went out the front door.
The man in the lane had his jaw wired-up and was the redhead Cato had slugged with the rifle butt out in the hills. When he saw Cato coming down the lane, he stood up from behind the rain-barrel where he had been crouching, looked disconcerted and then turned to run.
“Hold it, you sidewinder!” Cato yelled and he wasn’t prepared for the man's actions then, even though he had dropped a hand threateningly to the butt of the Manstopper.
The redhead abruptly stopped and spun back, drawing his gun as he did so, using his body to screen the movement of his right hand. Cato dragged at the heavy Manstopper but he was weakened and his reactions were slower than he had reckoned on. The redhead’s gun was clear of leather and firing across his body before the Manstopper was properly in Cato’s hand. The bullet whipped past Cato’s head and he flinched instinctively, stepping to the left. His leg folded under him and likely saved his life as the redhead’s next shot tore past within inches of his moving body. Cato went down on one knee and by that time he had the Manstopper snapping up into line and dropped hammer as the redhead triggered a third time.
Cato’s lead spanged off an iron hoop on the rain-barrel and he didn’t hear where the redhead’s slug went. He fired again and this time water spurted out of a hole in the barrel. The redhead turned and ran, firing wildly under one arm. Cato knew he couldn’t hope to catch the man but he was damned if he was going to let him escape this time. Swiftly, he snapped the hammer toggle to ‘shot barrel’, gripped the big gun butt with both hands and laid the foresight squarely in the middle of the fleeing man’s back. He dropped aim, the muzzle passing down the man’s spine, over his buttocks to his thighs, calves, boots and then the ground a foot behind his pounding feet. Cato figured that ought to allow for the jump when the heavy twelve-gauge shell exploded and delivered its charge of buckshot.