Bannerman the Enforcer 44

by Kirk Hamilton

  “That’s better,” Benbow called out. “Now ride in slow and keep your hands out where I can see ’em. Come to about fifty yards from the barricade and stop so we can palaver.”

  Cannon, Lincoln and Yancey climbed up to the buckboard tray with Benbow and waited till King brought his men in to the fifty-yard mark, Yancey got his first good look at the big rancher and wasn’t surprised at the man’s hard, leathery features and flinty eyes. He had seen the same kind of stubborn, arrogant face in many places on the frontier, the faces of men who refused to acknowledge that others had a right to free range, greedy men who wanted things only their way.

  Yancey was quite happy to spend time helping this town find its courage to face up to one of the range tyrants.

  “What in hell’s that on your vest, Benbow?” growled King, squinting. “That ain’t a sheriff’s star, is it?”

  “That it is,” Will Benbow replied crisply.

  King laughed derisively and Chad Barnes and several other cowpunchers joined in. Nathan King shook his head slowly, raking his icy gaze over the uneasy townsmen.

  “What the hell kind of fool deal is this?” he demanded. “You, Tom Jason, what in hell are you doin’ takin’ up a gun agin me? Why, hell man, I own the mortgage on your barber shop. You forgotten that?”

  The barber went pale. Before he could reply, King settled his gaze on another townsman.

  “Gabe Steele, you’re doin’ pretty well with that cafe of yours. Almost got it paid off, right? You ever thought about tryin’ to operate if I stopped supplyin’ you with beef at a good price? And you, Link Finn, what the hell are you playin’ at? You figure I’ll give you any more contract fencin’ jobs if you stand there holdin’ a rifle on me?”

  Link Finn hastily dropped the barrel of his rifle and lowered his eyes, muttering something.

  Nathan King smiled, his eyes flicking from man to man. “Yeah, just look at you. Most of you depend on me for your livin’ one way or another, and here you are listenin’ to some drifter who blows into town, sticks his nose where it ain’t wanted, and stirs up trouble you could do without.”

  He settled his flinty gaze on Yancey Bannerman but he spoke to the others. “Go on home and hang your guns up over the fireplace. You ain’t cut out for this kind of deal and you know it. You’re family men, don’t forget that. All right, so you got kind of carried away when this stranger gunned down my son Brandon—murdered him in cold blood! And then he bamboozled you with a lotta sweet talk. I can savvy that. I know I’ve been hard on you, but that’s my way and you know it. And also know that I can make or break every last one of you. Now go on home and we’ll say no more about it.”

  Before he had finished speaking, some of the townsmen started to leave their posts. They hadn’t wanted to be there in the first place. It wasn’t working out. King was right—he could ruin them.

  King had made a smart move and Yancey had to admire him for it. The Enforcer looked now at Benbow.

  “Will …?” he said gently. “Your move again.”

  “It don’t matter that you scared off a few men from behind this barricade, King,” the young sheriff said. “There are still more of us.”

  King flicked his gaze to Yancey. “You! What the hell gives you the right to come into my town and murder my son?”

  “Your son was doing his best to shoot me in the back when I nailed him,” Yancey answered. “I’m one of the Governor’s Enforcers, King. That’s all the authority I need.”

  “You’re buyin’ in where you got no right!” King snapped. “This is my range, my valley, my town! I run things my way!”

  “Up till now,” Yancey said.

  King glared hotly at the Enforcer, his nostrils flaring. His hands twisted on the saddle horn but he didn’t make a move towards his gun. “You just drifted in here!” he snarled. “No one sent for you! These poor fools sent for a gunfighter and lost their money in the bargain!”

  Some of the cowmen laughed dutifully but King’s face was unsmiling. “I wouldn’t care if you were the Governor himself, Bannerman. You killed my son and you’re gonna pay for it.” He sent his gaze around the men remaining behind the barricade. “And so is every one of these fools for darin’ to try to buck me!”

  “You and me, King,” Yancey said suddenly. “Don’t blame the town for what I did. You and me. Now. Right here. Man to man. Are you game?”

  Nathan King flushed, muscles knotting along his jaw as he felt that all eyes were on him. “You’ve got thirty years on me, Bannerman. You’re a trained gunfighter! That’d be some kind of a square deal, wouldn’t it!”

  Yancey smiled faintly. “Whatever you say, big man.”

  For a moment Yancey thought King was angry enough to accept the challenge, but the rancher held himself in check, fully aware that the Enforcer had made him back down, no matter how good an excuse he had. Yancey had made him look foolish in front of his hands and the townsmen.

  It was one more nail in Yancey’s coffin as far as Nathan King was concerned.

  “Forget the gunfightin’ talk!” Will Benbow said, his voice firm. “Yancey, you’re here to help us stand up to King. We’ll handle him, but we’re much obliged just the same.”

  Yancey smiled and threw Benbow a salute.

  The young sheriff turned his gaze back to King and swung down the shotgun. The rancher stiffened.

  “You see how it is, King? You ain’t comin’ into town. Get your men back into your valley and stay there. If you want somethin’ here in town, send in no more than three men at a time, savvy? And they’ll check their guns at the law office I’m openin’ down the street. They can pick ’em up when they leave. This applies to all of you, yourself included. I aim to get the gun ordinance pushed through the Town Council right away. That’ll make it law—and you better obey it!”

  King squinted at Benbow. “You’re takin’ that tin badge kind of serious, ain’t you, sodbuster?”

  “I took an oath of office and I aim to uphold it.”

  King’s mouth curled. “For as long as you’re still walkin’ around!”

  Benbow nodded. “I intend for that to be a long time, Nate. Wake up, man. Your day’s finished here. Accept that and we can get along. All you gotta do is climb down off your high horse.”

  “That’s pretty good advice, King,” Yancey said.

  The rancher’s eyes blazed at the Enforcer. “I ain’t finished with you, mister,” he gritted, yanking on the reins to turn his big Arab. He hipped in the saddle and looked at the men behind the barricade. “I ain’t finished with any of you, not by a long shot!” King spurred his mount forward and his men had to quickly move their animals to make way for him as he rode through. Then they turned their horses and followed him back across the plains.

  Benbow looked at Yancey and gave him a nervous smile as he sleeved sweat from his face.

  Flies were already buzzing around the carcass of the horse that had been brought down by the Brennecke slug.

  Five – Ways and Means

  Yancey Bannerman pushed the pie plate away and eased back in his chair. As he reached for his coffee cup he smiled across the table at Mary Benbow.

  “That sure was an elegant meal, Mrs. Benbow. Nothin’ like home-cooking, and in my kind of job you can never get enough of it.”

  Mary flushed in pleasure at the Enforcer’s words. “I’m glad you enjoyed it, Mr. Bannerman.”

  “I’m makin’ the most of these meals,” Will Benbow said with a grin, placing a hand over his wife’s on the table. “Cause when Mary goes into town to have the baby, I’ll have to be eatin’ my own cookin’ or livin’ out of a bean can, neither of which much appeals to me.”

  Mary and Yancey laughed, then she got to her feet.

  “Go into the parlor and smoke while I tidy up here,” she said.

  “I don’t mind lendin’ a hand, ma’am,” Yancey offered, but Mary wouldn’t hear of it.

  “You’re our guest, Mr. Bannerman. Shoo, please.”

  “C’mon, Yancey. I
got some whisky that’ll set real nice on top of that meal,” said Benbow.

  Settled in the parlor with a drink and a cigarette, Yancey looked around at the bare log walls, chinked with mud and straw, the homemade furniture, the spinning wheel by the stone fireplace, the Indian rug pegged to a wall, and the oiled paper in the window frame that would have to serve until the Benbows could afford to buy proper window glass. He admired Benbow’s pioneer spirit and the courage of his woman.

  “You just gonna be content with your section?” the Enforcer asked. “I mean, will a hundred and sixty acres be enough for you, Will?”

  “Right now it will and for the next few years. After I get some cattle on my range and the house and outbuildings finished, I guess I’ll put a claim on another section. There are two more nudgin’ my boundaries that’re reserved in my name. The land office will hold ’em for three years.”

  “Where are you aiming to add on?” Yancey asked.

  “The western boundary, out by the river bend just before it snakes into King Canyon.”

  Yancey pursed his lips. “Isn’t that what King’s been using as free range?”

  Benbow nodded. “Yeah. But it’s good land and the only logical way to expand.”

  “King won’t like it.”

  “He sure as hell won’t, but he’s had thirty years to file on it. It’s still on the survey charts as free range, so he can’t do anything about it now while it’s bein’ held in my name.”

  Yancey ashed his cigarette and looked up. “Does he know about you reserving those two sections?”

  Benbow shrugged. “It’s no secret. If he wants to look at the survey maps in the land office, there’s nothing to stop him.”

  Yancey nodded. “Guess he’d like to see you out of here then.”

  “That’s King’s bad luck. He’s got nine-tenths of the valley, anyway. Only greed is pushin’ him on.”

  “He’s got plenty of reason for wanting to nail you, Will,” Yancey pointed out. “The sheriff’s star and the land. You be mighty careful after I’m gone.”

  “When’s that gonna be, Yancey?”

  The Enforcer shrugged. “Not yet. I aim to see things a little more settled with King and the town before I pull up stakes.”

  “How about the Governor?”

  Yancey shrugged. “If he sends for me, I’ll wire back and tell him the situation.” He got to his feet. “Well, so far things’ve been quiet in town and the valley since the fracas at the barricade.”

  Benbow smiled wryly. “If King ain’t makin’ any noise it’s because he’s plannin’ somethin’. He won’t take kindly to them town ordinances and I’m expectin’ his men to buck ’em. Trouble is, with me workin’ as lawman only part-time he could get a bunch of hardcases roustin’ the town before I get word of it out here.”

  “Part-time is enough!” Mary said firmly from the doorway. She walked across the room and linked her arm through her husband’s. “Going so soon, Mr. Bannerman?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I want to be back in town by sundown. While I’m around I’ll kind of keep an eye on the town for Will. Thanks again for the fine meal.”

  “You’re welcome any time.”

  Yancey took his leave. A few minutes later he was riding through a dry wash at the base of a hogback rise when King Ranch cowhands rode across his path. As his hand streaked for his gun butt, he heard the unmistakable click of a gun hammer behind him.

  “Don’t, Bannerman,” a cold voice said.

  Yancey froze, recognizing Chad Barnes’ nasal twang.

  The Enforcer lifted his hands slowly as the four horsemen rode forward, their guns out. He recognized a couple of faces from the day of the barricade. A horse moved behind him and he turned his head and saw Chad Barnes walking his mount down the wall of the wash, cocked rifle at the ready. The ramrod moved close and held the rifle muzzle against Yancey’s spine, using his left hand to lift the Enforcer’s Colt from its holster. He tossed the Colt into scrub, then he brought the rifle barrel back and slammed Yancey with it on the side of the head.

  The Enforcer fell from the saddle and his hired horse jumped away with a whinny. Yancey lay there, his head roaring from the savage blow. Dazed, he started to get to his feet but Barnes rammed his horse into him and knocked him sprawling again.

  The ramrod made a sign to the others and they dismounted swiftly. Two men grasped Yancey’s arms and pulled him violently to his feet.

  Chad Barnes slid down from the saddle and pulled on a pair of leather work gloves. Yancey glared at him with cold eyes.

  “King don’t like the idea of killin’ one of the Governor’s Enforcers,” Barnes said. “He figures that might bring too much outside trouble to the valley. If you was killed by a bullet, that is. But if you was to fall off your horse, a hired one you ain’t used to, and the horse had a reputation for meanness and it stomped you to death …” Barnes grinned crookedly. “Hell, who could be blamed for a thing like that? Nobody. It’d go down as an unfortunate accident.”

  The ramrod suddenly stepped forward and slammed a leather-clad fist into Yancey’s midriff. The big Enforcer grunted and air gusted from his lungs as he was held erect by the two cowmen. Chad Barnes grinned tightly and hit him in the face. Yancey’s head snapped back and blood trickled down his chin. Barnes smashed him in the face again, this time between the eyes.

  Blood flowed from Yancey’s nose and he blinked back blinding tears, his legs weak, his senses swirling. Barnes planted his boots wide apart, and, setting himself, hammered blow after blow into Yancey’s body, putting all his weight behind each punch. Breath hissed through his nostrils and between his gritted teeth as he slugged away, working up from the midriff, across the chest and then to the face.

  Skin ripped and bruised. Blood flowed. Yancey reeled, barely hanging onto consciousness, agony jolting through him. His legs wouldn’t support him now and the two men had to hold him upright.

  Barnes finally stepped back, breathing hard, sweating, his gloves glistening with blood and bits of Yancey’s flesh. “Drop him,” he gasped. “He’s supposed to get stomped by a horse. We can all get in a couple of dozen kicks. That ought to finish him.”

  Yancey fell to his knees and sprawled forward onto his bloody face. Pure instinct drove him to try to get up. Barnes bared his teeth and moved in, kicking him in the ribs. One of the others stepped forward and drove a boot into Yancey’s stomach. The rest moved in, ready to kick him to death.

  One man, his boot poised to smash in Yancey’s face, suddenly seemed to be jerked violently back by an invisible wire. As his body smashed into the wash walls, the thundering boom of a shotgun reached the ears of the others.

  They spun, their hands streaking for their guns. But they froze when they saw Will Benbow riding in slowly, the smoking shotgun in his hands. The dead man’s shattered body was sufficient testimony as to the weapon’s deadliness. Slowly they lifted their hands.

  Benbow, his face grim, said, “Saw one of you hombres sittin’ his horse on the rim. Mighty careless of you.”

  The cowmen said nothing. Chad Barnes ran a tongue over his lips, his eyes narrowed. Benbow’s face hardened when he saw the blood-stained gloves on the ramrod’s hands. He walked his mount up to the man and stared down at him coldly, then he freed his right boot from the stirrup and kicked Barnes squarely in the middle of the face. The ramrod staggered back and fell semi-conscious to his hands and knees, staring down at the blood that dripped from his nose and spotted the ground between his hands.

  Benbow looked at the others. “Someone get a canteen and pour it over Bannerman—gentle-like. Bring him around and then we’ll see what he wants to do with you bastards.”

  As one man moved to get a canteen from his saddle, another said, “Listen, Will, we only done what we was told to do. You know we gotta do what King says.”

  “I don’t know that,” Benbow said curtly. “Just shut up, Morg, or I’ll kick your teeth down your throat. I’m in just the right mood for it.”

  The men
fell silent and Benbow watched as water was poured over Yancey’s bloody face. The Enforcer shook his head and groaned as he came out of it. He blinked, frowned, then he recognized Benbow and the heavy shotgun.

  “We’re in control, Yancey,” Benbow told him. “There’s Chad Barnes and three more of ’em. They’re yours to do what you like with.” He smiled thinly. “I don’t reckon they’ll give you any trouble.”

  Yancey took the canteen from the man near him, put it to his lips and spat out some bloody water. Then he drank deeply and poured the rest of the water over his head. Slowly he pulled himself to his feet by grabbing the foreleg of Benbow’s horse. He swayed against the animal and it shied away a little at the smell of blood.

  The Enforcer sent his icy gaze around the group of cowhands, then he saw the dead man and the dazed Barnes climbing to his feet. The men shuffled their feet uneasily. Yancey ignored them. Chad Barnes was the man he gave his attention to. He had been the one doing the slugging while he had been held.

  Barnes was swaying on his feet, the back of a hand against his bleeding face, blinking, trying to clear his vision.

  Yancey Bannerman lurched forward, growling deep in his throat. Barnes turned sluggishly, his eyes widening at the sight of the bloody apparition coming towards him. He stumbled as he stepped back and then Yancey’s right fist came sledging down. It smashed Barnes’ feeble guard aside and came on like a blacksmith’s forge hammer, smashing his nose to pulp. Then Yancey backhanded him violently, turning the man’s head on his shoulders so that Benbow thought the ramrod’s neck would snap. Barnes stumbled back in a crazy dance. Yancey moved in and drove a fist into the ramrod’s midriff, pinning him to the wall of the wash. Then Yancey put all his remaining strength into a right hook to the stomach.

  Yancey stepped back. As Barnes toppled forward, he kneed him in the face. Chad Barnes went back against the wash wall, only the whites of his eyes showing, his arms hanging limply at his sides.

  Yancey stepped back and let the ramrod fall on his face. Then, panting, swaying on his feet, he turned and smashed a fist into the face of the nearest cowman. The startled man stumbled back, his boots crashing into the unconscious Barnes. He fell over Barnes and Yancey kicked him in the ribs.