Bannerman the Enforcer 8

by Kirk Hamilton

  ~*~

  They separated outside of Bodie, Yancey taking the northern trail in, Cato and Chuck moving into the town from the west. Chuck didn't want to come along, of course, but Yancey had made him.

  Down on the Rio, after their rescue by the border patrol and subsequent identification through Cato’s Enforcer commission papers, the Ranger commander had suggested they might like to send some wires to the governor over the special telegraph reserved for the Rangers. Yancey had taken advantage of this to bring Dukes up to date and to pick up the latest developments himself.

  He was surprised to get a coded wire that told him Dukes was being blamed for instigating a scheme that would upset the Texas economy by throwing the beef market into chaos. The rumors were being spread about Austin and were backed up by details that Yancey knew could only have come from the men Chuck had been involved with.

  “Goddamn it. Chuck, I told you this could have more repercussions than you could shake a stick at!” Yancey had snapped. “You figured you were using these hombres to put a few dirty dollars in your pocket, but these fellers had their own axe to grind and it looks as if it was to discredit Dukes! The whole thing is political! They’ve used you, mister, and it’s a tight set-up, what with me, your brother, being one of Dukes’ Enforcers!”

  Chuck had paled at the implications. “But I never figured on anything like that, Yance! Hell, man, you gotta believe me!”

  Yancey had forced himself to remain calm. “I do. Chuck. I do believe you. You saw no farther than the few miserable pesos you could slip into your own pocket. It blinded you to how these other hombres had turned things around to discredit Dukes. Hell, he’s the governor, man! He’s got political enemies everywhere. And you’ve involved pa in this, too. He’ll be part of it and he’ll be discredited on the financial scene. Man, you really fouled this one up!”

  “I—I guess I better go to Austin and try to explain to Dukes,” Chuck had stammered and he had frowned at the cold, tight grin Yancey had given him.

  “You don’t get out of it that easy. You send a wire to pa first, outlining things. Then you come with Johnny and me to Bodie. If you live through that, you can face Dukes and C.B., who I figure will come here post-haste.”

  Chuck had wilted, crushed and afraid.

  But he had ridden with Cato and Yancey to the range above Bodie and now they separated in the hot afternoon and moved on down towards the town. Chuck knew Yancey wouldn’t expect him to do much. Just being there when the lead started flying, maybe to act as ‘Brandon’ so as to give ‘Sundance’ more authenticity, would be enough as far as Yancey was concerned. Chuck was being punished this way, and it scared hell out of him, but it didn’t frighten him as much as the prospect of facing his father afterwards.

  Providing he lived through the showdown in Bodie, of course. Cato was there to see that he didn’t run off and dodge it all.

  Yancey rode in slowly and deliberately, giving hard-eyed stares to folk on the street who looked at him.

  He put his mount across the street, heading towards the open doors of the livery, and he had to pass the law office to get there. A young man wearing a deputy’s star came out onto the porch and glanced at him, but looked away when he saw Yancey’s hard face. The Enforcer figured he wasn’t much of a lawman, and in fact, the word from Dukes had been that the law in Bodie had been either bought or subjugated. Yancey would go along with that last, he reckoned.

  At the livery he gave the attendant instructions about his horse, then wandered back outside, hitching at his gunbelt. He did not see the bullet-headed man climb down from the hayloft behind him where he had been keeping a vigil. Lewis shoved the liveryman aside and slipped out the back way, hurrying through the corrals and making his way through narrow lanes and back streets to where Lansing had his rooms above the bar of the Star Saloon.

  “He here?” Lansing asked from where he sat sprawled in a chair, cigarette in one hand, glass of whisky in the other.

  Lewis nodded. “He’s here all right. And I’ve seen him before. He ain’t Sundance. He’s the hombre who gunned down Jeff in Austin, sided some little hombre with a twin-barreled gun that fired like a shotgun!”

  Lansing sat bolt upright. “Describe the little hombre.”

  Lewis frowned and gave a rough description of Cato. “He beat up Happy in a brawl and when we started to step in, this big hombre sided him. They’re both like lightnin’ with guns. You know ’em, boss?”

  “Heard of that gun and the little hombre. Name of Cato. Calls his gun the Manstopper.”

  “Can’t say I’ve heard of him.”

  “If you hung around Texas much you would. He’s no gunfighter as such. He’s one of Dukes’ Enforcers.”

  Lewis swore.

  “And,” added Lansing, “if the big hombre sided him, he’s likely one, too. Probably the one they call Yancey, er, Bannerman, I think. Hell on two legs.”

  “Well, he’s the hombre checked his horse into the livery and gave the liveryman the name of Sundance!”

  “Which means the whole deal is about to blow sky high.” Lansing heaved to his feet. “Go get the boys. We’ll finish this by sundown. Right here.”

  Lewis nodded and hurried out as Lansing took out his six-gun and began to check the loads.

  In the street downstairs, Yancey strolled along, moving aside for no one. He knew the word would soon spread that there was a tough new hombre in town, calling himself Sundance. It would soon reach Lansing and the man would come looking for him. Yancey paused to roll a cigarette and as he cupped his hands around the vesta flame when he lit it, saw Cato and Chuck coming into town from the far end of the main drag. They rode slowly and Chuck looked as if it wouldn’t take much to spook him but Cato looked as hard as nails and spring-taut, ready for action.

  They all bore marks from their recent battle with the Mexicans at the Rio crossing, but these scrapes and bruises and cuts only added to their tough appearance. Yancey shook out the vesta flame as Cato and Chuck rode by. They glanced at him casually and neither gave any sign of recognition as they went on towards the livery. Yancey stepped down into the street and started to cross towards a saloon, but slowed when he saw four men come out onto the porch, all gun-hung and having the unmistakable attitudes of men on the prod, or at least hunting trouble.

  They stepped to the edge of the walk, then down into the street and the big leader with the mean eyes hooked his thumbs into his gunbelt. The man beside him, the one with the bullet-head, Yancey knew he had seen some place before, but couldn't think where. The other two, one redhead, one dark and short, were typical border scum, spoiling for a fight, either with fists or guns, but only the latter if they figured they could win. Like now, with four against one.

  Yancey saw how the townsfolk held back and some disappeared hurriedly into stores and barbershops, anywhere to get off the street. They knew the signs: a gunfight was imminent.

  The big Enforcer had slowed his pace but he kept walking, stopping in the middle of the street when the leader, who he guessed was Lansing, held up a hand.

  “Hold it there, a spell, mister. You be the one they call Sundance?”

  “That’s me. You Lansing?”

  “I’m him.” He gestured to the bullet-headed man. “Lewis, Red and Shorty.”

  Yancey nodded but his eyes were hard, wary. He saw how they had spread out, seemingly casually, but in the best positions to catch him in a concentrated fire.

  “Reckon we’re gonna be pards for a spell,” Yancey said quietly. “You get Brandon’s wire?”

  Lansing nodded. “That I did. Went off okay down in mañana land, huh?”

  “Yeah. But not quite fast enough for my liking. I prefer north of the border. Well north.”

  “I got me another wire at the same time as Brandon’s,” Lansing added and Yancey stiffened slightly at his tone. “Yeah. From a pard of mine. Works for the government you might say. Sees all rewards claims and such.” He paused and his eyes bored into the impassive, immobile Yanc
ey. “He says a woman named Lorrance shotgunned a man called Sundance to death in Amarillo, three weeks ago. The reward’s just been authorized to be paid out. Now what you got to say about that?”

  Yancey shrugged. “All I know is it weren’t me. Must’ve been some other hombre using the name of Sundance.”

  “Or maybe you’re the one just usin’ that name—Bannerman!”

  Yancey stiffened and the instinctive reaction almost cost him his life. For Lansing drove down for his gun as he spat Yancey’s name and the others, too, went for their six-guns. Yancey started to throw himself backwards and sideways as he went for his Peacemaker. Lansing’s Colt boomed and Yancey lurched off-balance as lead took him in the left hip. He knew it had missed the bone, but it flung him violently around and he ended up facing the wrong way, with the gunfighters behind him. Lead spat dust all around him as he bared his teeth, biting back the pain, the muzzle of the Peacemaker dragging through the dust as he wrenched his body violently. He fired across his body as he saw Lewis running in, both guns in his hands. The bullet-headed man stopped dead and his guns roared but the barrels were slanted downwards. Yancey fired again and Lewis jerked and Yancey put a third bullet in the man as he still tried to lift his guns. He went down in a crumpled heap and Yancey rolled instinctively away from lead kicking stones into his face. Through the dust he saw Lansing running for the protection of a rain butt and he half-rose, thumbed back the hammer and drew swift bead. The gun bucked and Lansing went down, skidding on his face, but he didn’t drop his Colt as he rolled in the dust and tried to claw upright again, one hand holding a bloody patch on his side. His gun came around as Yancey swung the Peacemaker and cut loose again. Lansing crashed over backwards, literally flinging his own gun from him as he hit the dust hard.

  Blinded by dust and pain, Yancey dragged himself around in the street as Red opened up on him. He didn’t see Shorty at first, then he caught a glimpse of the man and blinked. He was laying in the dust, unmoving, half his face gone. Startled, Yancey swung back to face Red as the man fired and lead burned past him, throwing his aim off. His shot went wild and he knew it was his last and he wouldn’t have time to reload before Red finished him. The man ran out into the street, teeth bared as he lifted his gun and aimed carefully at Yancey’s head.

  There was a blast like a shotgun from behind Yancey and Red’s body was picked up by the charge of buckshot and hurled halfway up onto the boardwalk where he lay in a crumpled heap. Yancey squirmed around and saw Cato running up towards him, already reloading the shot-shell chamber in the smoking Manstopper. He knew now who had downed Shorty. Cato knelt swiftly beside him.

  “That’s all of them, Yancey,” Cato said. “You hit bad?”

  “I’ll live. It missed the bone, I reckon. What about Chuck?”

  Cato looked uncomfortable. “Well, we were just dismountin’ in the livery when the shootin’ started. I ran back out and he rode clear on through and out the rear of the livery. He’ll be long gone, but I guess I could catch up with him in a couple of days after I see you fixed at a sawbones.”

  Yancey shook his head as he saw the crowd gathering and he noticed that some men had the young, pale-faced deputy in custody now that Lansing’s bunch had been downed.

  “Let him go. He’ll have to face pa some time and by the time he does, the truth of the whole deal will be out. Pa’ll flay him alive.” Then he added a mite bitterly: “But somehow I’ll wind up getting blamed for what happened. Always do.”

  Cato leaned down and helped Yancey to his feet. The big Enforcer leaned heavily on his shoulder, his left leg unable to support his weight.

  “Let’s get you to a sawbones,” Cato said.

  Together, they moved awkwardly back through the crowd of excited onlookers, searching the buildings for a doctor’s shingle.

  About the Author

  Keith Hetherington

  aka Kirk Hamilton, Brett Waring and Hank J. Kirby

  Australian writer Keith has worked as television scriptwriter on such Australian TV shows as Homicide, Matlock Police, Division 4, Solo One, The Box, The Spoiler and Chopper Squad.

  "I always liked writing little vignettes, trying to describe the 'action' sequences I saw in a film or the Saturday Afternoon Serial at local cinemas," remembers Keith Hetherington, better-known to Piccadilly Publishing readers as 'Hank J. Kirby', author of the Bronco Madigan series.

  Keith went on to pen hundreds of westerns (the figure varies between 600 and 1000) under the names 'Kirk Hamilton' (including the legendary Bannerman the Enforcer series) and Clay Nash as 'Brett Waring'. Keith also worked as a journalist for the Queensland Health Education Council, writing weekly articles for newspapers on health subjects and radio plays dramatizing same.

  More on Keith Hetherington

  The Bannerman Series by Kirk Hamilton

  The Enforcer

  Ride the Lawless Land

  Guns of Texas

  A Gun for the Governor

  Rogue Gun

  Trail Wolves

  Dead Shot

  A Man Called Sundance

  … And more to come every month!

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  The Adventures continue…

  More on Kirk Hamilton

  i As told in Dead Shot.