For the last hour, both men had communicated their views on Bell’s raid using only sighs and slow shakes of the head.
Nat edged to the side and nudged Spenser.
‘They really seemed to think that their fake raid would catch us,’ he whispered.
‘Yeah,’ Spenser said. ‘All that energy and planning for nothing.’
‘It kind of makes me feel sorry for our lawmen.’ Nat smiled and raised a hand to his brow as he craned his neck. ‘But not too much.’
Chapter Ten
An hour after the raid on the wagon riders, the decoy runners joined the other outlaws and they headed off.
The two lawmen nodded. In silence they mounted their horses and rode over the mesa, down to the trail on the opposite side, then headed at a fair trot back to Lincoln.
Eight miles out of Lincoln, two riders galloped towards them.
As the lawmen pulled their horses to a halt, Creed glanced around, but the approaching riders were the only people on the trail and the surrounding plains were clear.
‘I reckoned that meeting Mayor Lynch was going to be mighty tough,’ Creed said, ‘but meeting Bell and Trent could be worse.’
Fairborn nodded to the tangle of rocks beside the trail.
‘You reckon we should take cover?’
‘Gunfire won’t get us out of this. We need to talk tough.’
From ahead, Trent thrust up an arm and, a moment later, a gunshot whistled by two yards from Creed’s head.
‘Time for second thoughts,’ Fairborn shouted. He yanked on the reins, his horse rearing as he turned it, wasting valuable seconds.
‘Go for cover,’ Creed shouted, leaping from his horse.
Fairborn calmed his steed as a second gunshot skimmed by his shoulder. He leapt from his horse, rolling as he hit the ground to slam into the tangle of boulders beside Creed. Wasting no time, he drew his gun and both men swung their guns on to the top of the rock.
Bearing down on them, Trent and Bell thrust out their guns at arm’s length. Creed and Fairborn narrowed their eyes, but they didn’t fire as they waited for the outlaws to ride closer.
Ahead, the riders galloped at them, Trent blasting a round every few strides. Each shot whistled close by or plumed into the dust, but he was closing and so were the bullets.
Then Trent and Bell pulled back on the reins and halted just out of the lawmen’s firing range.
‘Sheriff, you made a big mistake,’ Bell shouted.
‘We agreed on the plan,’ Creed shouted. ‘It isn’t our fault that it failed.’
‘We did everything as agreed, and nobody showed.’ Bell turned his horse to the side while Trent reloaded. ‘No Ten Per Cent gang, nothing.’
Creed sighed. ‘The plan should have worked. Information must have leaked out to the Ten Per Cent gang. Who did you talk to?’
Bell shrugged. ‘Nobody but us knew. But as soon as my men find out that there’s no cash, somebody will remember that I’ve been talking to you, and somebody will work out that the wagon riders gave up the cash too easily. I’ll have plenty of trouble.’
‘Next time, we’ll just have to—’
‘There won’t be no next time.’
A round of gunfire peppered the rock and in self-preservation, Creed and Fairborn hurled themselves to the ground. As soon as one volley ended another volley started.
They cringed as they waited for an opening, and when it came, they swung up in unison and fired in an instant, but Trent and Bell were already galloping away.
As Fairborn lowered his gun, Creed blasted twice at their receding backs. Then they both slumped to their knees together.
‘I suppose we were lucky,’ Fairborn said. ‘Trent is a good enough shot to take us when we gave an opening.’
Creed glanced over his shoulder and snorted. ‘We weren’t lucky. Trent always hits what he aims at, and he wasn’t aiming at us.’
Fairborn swirled round and then winced. At least a quarter of a mile away, their untethered horses were now galloping across the plains away from them, nothing in their headlong dash suggesting they’d be easy to catch.
‘I guess we’d better start on that walk.’
Creed sighed. ‘At least it’ll postpone meeting Mayor Lynch a while longer.’
Fairborn rolled to his feet. ‘Perhaps if we’re real lucky, he won’t get to hear about what’s just happened.’
Creed snorted and jumped to his feet. ‘I just don’t reckon our luck is that good at the moment.’
Chapter Eleven
Sheriff Creed and Deputy Fairborn staggered into Lincoln, footsore and weary, irritation and brooding anger bowing their shoulders. They headed straight for the sheriff’s office, but Mayor Lynch ran from his offices and waylaid them outside.
‘You’d better round up a posse quickly,’ he shouted, gesturing up and down the main drag. ‘Clayton Bell raided the wagon riders.’
Fairborn leaned to Creed and sighed. ‘It seems you were right. We aren’t getting any luck these days.’
‘Luck,’ Lynch shouted. ‘This has nothing to do with luck. You need to sort this out.’
Creed raised his right leg and laid a scuffed boot over his left knee.
‘I’ve done all the sorting out I aim to do for one day.’ He prized his foot from the boot and emptied a pile of dust on to the hardpan.
‘Stop wasting time!’ Lynch set his hands on his hips. ‘Clayton Bell is getting away. I’ve had enough of waiting for the Ten Per Cent gang to bail you out. Get your boots on and this time—’
‘This time, the Ten Per Cent gang didn’t show.’ Creed swung into his boot and emptied the second boot.
‘Then do something. Bell’s gang will—’
‘I’m doing nothing. I’d set a trap, except the Ten Per Cent gang didn’t spring it.’
Lynch slapped his palm against his forehead. ‘You mean you knew all about the raid?’
‘Yeah. I agreed with the bank that there’d be no cash to steal.’ Creed slipped into his second boot. ‘The Ten Per Cent gang figured it out and didn’t raid Bell’s gang.’
‘This was all your idea?’
Creed tipped back his hat. ‘Yeah.’
Lynch threw his hands above his head. ‘The ridiculous thing is, you’re proud of it.’
Creed rubbed his chin, then nodded. ‘I am, and if it’d worked, you’d like the sound of it, too.’
‘You’re wrong, and as it didn’t work, everyone will reckon you’re an even bigger fool than before.’
‘They won’t,’ Creed snapped. He glanced along the deserted main drag. ‘Only the bank, Deputy Fairborn, and you know that it was a trap.’
‘Everybody knows about the raid on the wagon riders.’ Mayor Lynch turned on his heel. ‘The truth won’t stay hidden.’
* * *
With all but Trent and Bell gathered at the meeting place high in the hills, Hardy Newman ripped open the captured saddle-bag. His discovery of the cut newspaper within initiated a round of glaring, recriminations and arguments that festered for the next hour.
Eventually, Deke Pewter passed a bottle of whiskey around. Even with this, everyone drank in sullen silence.
‘I can’t believe we stole nothing,’ Kyle Samuels said. He sat, perched the saddle-bag between his legs, and pulled out yet another handful of newspaper.
Hardy slumped down beside him and forced a wan smile.
‘Cheer up. At least the Ten Per Cent gang didn’t raid us.’
Kyle hurled the paper over his head. It showered around him as he turned to Hardy, his eyes blazing.
‘Is that supposed to be funny?’
Hardy blew out his cheeks. ‘No. I’m mighty annoyed. Just like you and everybody else here.’
As grumbles rippled around the men, Kyle extracted another handful of paper from the saddle-bag and thrust it into Hardy’s face.
‘I don’t reckon you’re as annoyed as I am.’ Kyle glanced around, receiving sullen stares. ‘Or anyone else here.’
‘Be qu
iet,’ Carlos Pitcairn said, passing the whiskey bottle on to Slim Johnson. ‘You’re just looking for a fight and nobody’s interested.’
‘I’m not looking for a fight. I just want Hardy to answer my question.’ Kyle rolled to his feet and set his feet wide apart. ‘So where’s the cash?’
With a short lunge, Kyle grabbed Hardy’s collar. He ruffled it shut and pulled him forward.
‘I know as much as you do.’ Hardy batted Kyle’s hand away.
Kyle walked around Hardy, waving his handful of paper.
‘Except you hid for an hour. You had enough time to hide the money.’
Hardy glanced around, but this time the glares he received were not so apathetic. Several men muttered to each other. Others stood up and shuffled towards him.
Carlos took a long pace forward to stand beside Kyle.
‘Kyle’s right,’ he said. ‘You had enough time to hide the cash, and we only have your word that the Ten Per Cent gang raided you the last time.’
Hardy clutched his bandaged shoulder. ‘Except they shot me and Fletcher to hell. You and Carlos lost the money the first time and I don’t see any bullet wounds on you. What happened? Were you too scared to shoot each other to make it look like they raided you.’
Carlos’s eyes blazed. ‘That’s dangerous talk.’
Hardy edged his hand to his gunbelt. ‘It is, but I reckon I’ll put a few bullets in you to even things up.’
‘Wait!’ Fletcher shouted. ‘Bell and Trent are returning.’
Hardy glanced away from Carlos to see two men riding towards them. He turned back to face Carlos.
‘This isn’t over. You’ve got some questions to answer.’
Carlos didn’t reply and everyone continued to glare at each other as Bell and Trent rode into the campsite and pulled their horses to a halt.
‘What’s happening?’ Bell said.
‘We’re just trying to work that out,’ Hardy said. ‘If you give me some room, I’ll get some answers soon enough.’
Bell jumped from his horse. ‘What’s he mean, Kyle?’
Kyle waved his handful of paper, then threw them to the ground.
‘The cash shipment was just newspaper. Somebody duped us. It could have been the wagon riders, but Carlos has the idea that it was Hardy, and Hardy has the idea that it was Carlos.’
Bell looked at each man in turn. ‘There’s no need for you to shoot each other over this. It was my mistake. I did a deal with the wagon riders for them to surrender the shipment, except I now reckon that they fooled me. The real shipment is probably getting through somewhere else.’
‘They duped us.’
‘They didn’t.’ Bell tipped back his hat. ‘They duped me, and I’ll sort this out. It won’t happen again.’
‘It won’t,’ Hardy snapped. He hitched his jacket closed and stood straight. ‘I reckon a man who gets duped can’t give other men orders.’
With his eyes blazing, Bell paced towards Hardy and stood before him. Trent joined him to stand two paces to his right, but Hardy stood his ground.
Bell glanced away then, with the back of his hand, slapped Hardy’s cheek.
Hardy staggered to the side, Trent grabbing him. With a lightning gesture, Trent ripped his gun from its holster and slammed the barrel into Hardy’s temple.
‘I reckon you’ve got some apologizing to do,’ he said into Hardy’s ear.
Trent spun Hardy round so that his back was to him, then considered the remainder of the group. His lips curled with the harshest of smiles.
Hardy glanced around, searching everyone’s eyes as he judged his chances. He took a deep breath.
‘That isn’t happening. There are fifteen of us and two of you.’
‘Perhaps, but you’ll die first.’
‘Stop!’ Bell shouted, raising his hands. ‘Nobody is killing anybody. If we work together, we can get what we want.’
Everyone glanced at each other. Most men gave small nods and backed away, but Carlos leapt forward.
‘No,’ he said. ‘We aren’t getting what we want working for you. Between the Ten Per Cent gang and those double-crossing wagon riders, we haven’t had a success in months. I’m with Hardy. We need a new leader.’
‘You’re putting yourself forward, are you?’
Carlos squared off to Bell. ‘Yup. When Trent kills Hardy, one of us will kill Trent. Then you and I will decide which one of us leads what’s left.’
Bell rubbed his chin as he considered the men facing them. He shrugged, then charged Carlos with his hands raised clawlike and aiming for Carlos’s throat.
In a sudden lunge, Carlos thrust up both his arms and knocked Bell’s hands away. As Trent tightened his grip around Hardy’s shoulders, Bell hurled a punch at Carlos’s head.
Carlos ducked the punch, but Bell barged into him and with his right shoulder, bundled him to the ground, then hurled himself on top of Carlos’s supine form.
Each man grabbed the other man’s neck and tried to wrestle himself on top, throwing up huge gouts of dust as they rolled back and forth. Then Carlos struggled out from under Bell, leapt on his back, and thrust his head down into the dirt.
In Trent’s grip, Hardy squirmed, taking Carlos’s sudden supremacy as his chance to grab his freedom, but with a twist of his hand Trent blasted Hardy in the head. With a contemptuous lunge, Trent pushed Hardy’s lifeless body away and roved his gun back and forth across the arc of men facing him.
As one, everyone hurled their hands to their holsters, but Trent blasted a bullet through Stone Meadow’s guts and with a series of flinches, everyone raised their hands.
Trent smiled, then aimed his gun at Carlos’s and Bell’s fight. Now Bell had prized Carlos’s grip away from his head and was slowly pushing him to the side.
Trent centered the gun on Carlos’s head, waiting for an opening. Then in a sudden lunge, Bell hurled Carlos away.
Carlos landed on his back, but Bell leapt to his feet, blocking Trent’s view of Carlos, and reached down to grab Carlos’s collar. He pulled him to his feet and held him upright, then with a long slug to the jaw, knocked Carlos on his back.
Even as Carlos slid to a halt, Trent blasted lead into his forehead. As Carlos twitched, then lay still, Trent and Bell backed to stand together.
‘Anyone else fancy questioning who should give the orders around here?’ Trent roared.
Everyone glanced at each other, then disbanded, shaking their heads while Kyle kicked the saddle-bag away, scattering paper in a long arc.
Bell nodded. ‘Hardy and Carlos were troublemakers. You men aren’t like them, and with them gone, there’ll be more money for the rest of us.’
‘Or more of nothing,’ Fletcher said.
Chapter Twelve
Mayor Lynch had promised that Creed’s failed trap would become common knowledge quickly.
He was right.
Whether the information leaked from him or Jonah Eckstein, neither Creed nor Fairborn could tell. They suspected that it was both of them, but this suspicion didn’t comfort them as they ran the daily gauntlet of sneers and snide remarks.
‘Sheriff, you set any good traps recently? I hear you couldn’t catch a dead prairie dog.’
‘Hey, Ten Per Cent Sheriff, hope they aren’t paying you more than ten per cent of a lawman’s wage.’
‘Fairborn, you like working for an idiot?’
The townsfolk hurled these comments and a whole lot worse at both lawmen daily.
Starved of sufficient pride to offer retorts, both lawmen spent less time patrolling Lincoln and the surrounding trails and spent more time brooding in the sheriff’s office, hoping the abuse would end.
If it were, it was taking its time.
Two weeks after the failed trap, Creed removed his feet from the desk, tipped back his hat, and headed to the door.
‘I’m tired of hiding in here,’ he said. ‘It’s time we left.’
Fairborn looked up from under his hat. ‘The abuse isn’t over yet. This morning, T
urner Galley told me that he was thinking of robbing a bank because the lawmen in Lincoln were so stupid he’d get away with it.’
‘You should have arrested him for inciting trouble.’
‘After your fight with him in the saloon, I didn’t think we dare annoy the townsfolk any more.’
‘True, but we can’t avoid our duty, so we grit our teeth and go about our jobs.’ Creed smiled and widened his eyes.
‘I know that expression.’ Fairborn rolled from his chair and stood. ‘I reckon you’ve had an idea as to how we can change our fortunes.’
Creed rubbed his chin, nodding, then patted Fairborn’s arm.
‘Before I got us involved with Bell, I told you to decide how far you were prepared to go. I reckon you need to do that again.’
Fairborn sighed. ‘I like being a lawman, but unless people start having faith in us, I won’t be one for much longer.’
‘Then come with me. It’s time we set a bigger trap.’ Creed opened the door and strode into the doorway. ‘This time, we’ll net everyone.’
* * *
‘You haven’t thought this through,’ Jonah Eckstein said. He edged a sheet of paper on his desk an inch to the side. ‘As I’ve plenty to do, I’d be obliged if you didn’t waste any more of my time.’
‘I have thought this through,’ Creed said. He placed both hands on Jonah’s desk and leaned over it, forcing the balding man to cringe away. ‘The trap we set for the Ten Per Cent gang failed. Everybody reckons it was my fault, but I reckon information leaked out. I don’t have to look far for the culprit.’
Jonah removed his glasses and polished them furiously on his sleeve.
‘You’d better not be looking at me.’
Creed grabbed Jonah’s arm, stopping his polishing.
‘I’m not looking any further than you. I reckon a toad like you would profit from what I tried to do.’
‘You got proof?’
‘Nope, but I reckon I can shake it out of you.’
With a snap of his wrist, Creed removed his hand from Jonah’s arm and cracked his knuckles. Jonah glanced at the hand, then hooked his glasses around his ears.
The Ten Per Cent Gang Page 4