‘Recognize him?’ Cassidy said, leaning to Hearst.
‘Nope, but I could tell he’s in on the raid,’ Hearst said.
‘Seems you’re getting those instincts that’ll make you a sheriff one . . .’ Cassidy nudged Hearst, but Hearst was already looking straight ahead.
The blue-uniformed conductor had left the freight car. He leaned back on the wall and planted his feet wide apart to counteract the swaying of the train.
The conductor flicked his gaze down the car and rubbed his nose.
Then the man to their side stood up and walked down the car. He tipped his hat to the conductor and shook his hand, but within the gesture, Cassidy saw money change hands before the man walked through the door.
The conductor glanced around the car, his gaze darting between the passengers, and then followed the man through.
‘What do you reckon to that?’ Hearst asked.
‘Same as you – that man is in Fernandez’s gang and a bribe just changed hands.’
‘You don’t sound surprised.’
‘Nathaniel was right about the presence of a weak link. For a raid to work, you need inside information, and that conductor is helping Fernandez.’
‘So, when are we acting?’ Hearst said, tipping back his hat.
From ahead, a gunshot sounded, the sound muffled, but loud enough to make several passengers behind them shuffle on their seats and peer through the windows.
Cassidy turned to Hearst. ‘Now would seem like the right time.’
Cassidy rolled to his feet and, with Hearst at his heels, pounded down the car for the front door. He threw open the door and ran through.
Neither the conductor nor the man who had followed him through was there, so he vaulted the gap between the cars to stand outside the freight car. When Hearst joined him, he kicked open the door.
Side by side, they burst in. Inside, four unarmed men sat around an upturned barrel set before a huge crate, a poker game in progress.
By the opened double-doors at the side of the car, the conductor had a Peacemaker aimed at the group.
Cassidy shouted a warning to the poker players as he dashed three long paces and leapt at the conductor, who merely stared at Cassidy, transfixed. Cassidy grabbed the conductor’s gun hand and pushed the gun high. On the edge of the door, both men flexed back and forth.
The poker players muttered something, but a barked command from Hearst silenced them.
Then Cassidy dashed the conductor’s gun hand against the side of the car, tearing the gun from his grip. As his opponent floundered, Cassidy slugged his jaw, knocking him back a pace.
The conductor stumbled into the doorframe and hung on for a moment, but the wind whipped by and tore his grip away. He wheeled his arms, fighting for balance, and then tumbled from the car to land out of sight.
Cassidy swirled round to face the poker players.
‘Any other trouble yet?’ he said.
‘Only person looking for trouble is you,’ a round-shouldered old-timer said, raising his hands high. ‘But we’re not opposing you.’
‘I’m not trouble. I’m Sheriff Cassidy Yates and this is Deputy Frank Hearst. And you?’
‘Art, Art Weston.’
‘So, Art, Art Weston, what happened to the man who came in here?’
Weston nodded down the length of the car.
‘He’s down there searching for something.’
‘You didn’t think he might be after the gold shipment?’
‘What gold shipment?’
Cassidy pointed to the huge crate behind Weston, the only crate large enough to contain the gold.
‘I mean that gold.’
Weston glanced over the shoulder at the crate, his brow furrowed, and then turned back to Cassidy, shaking his head.
‘That crate just has a heap of old animal furs in it and God knows what else.’
Cassidy sniffed, but the wind whipping in from the open doorway kept any odors at bay. He moved closer to Weston and, on the third pace, the stench of long dead animals invaded his nostrils.
He glanced at Hearst, who strode to the crate, but when he reached it, he turned away, wafting his hand before his wrinkled nose.
‘That isn’t no gold, Cassidy,’ he said.
‘Like we told you,’ Weston said, slapping his cards on the crate.
‘Then why was the conductor holding you at gunpoint?’
‘He wasn’t holding nobody at gunpoint. He’d lost his money and was shooting at a passing bird.’
‘You don’t expect me to believe . . .’
The man who they’d followed through the door edged back down the car, a leather valise under his arm, but on seeing Cassidy, he dropped the valise and raised his hands high.
‘I haven’t got nothing to steal,’ he shrieked.
Cassidy considered the valise, noting that it was too slim to contain anything valuable. Then he turned to Hearst, who winced.
‘I think we do have to believe Weston,’ Hearst said. ‘There isn’t no gold on this train.’
Cassidy lowered his head. ‘Neither is there any trouble.’
‘That is until you arrived,’ Weston said.
Chapter Fourteen
‘What do you reckon?’ Cassidy said.
Hearst stretched back on his cot. ‘I reckon we’re in a whole heap of trouble.’
Cassidy tapped the lowest cell bar with the toe of his boot and sighed.
‘That’s the biggest understatement I’ve ever heard.’
The journey back to Bear Creek had been a slow and embarrassing one. Two of the poker players had escorted Cassidy and Hearst, and then filed charges for assault with Deputy Cartwright before leaving.
For a long night, Cassidy and Hearst had lain in adjoining cells, each lost in their own dark thoughts. Even sun-up and breakfast hadn’t lightened the spirits of either man.
‘What story are we giving?’ Hearst asked.
‘The truth, even about Nathaniel and Spenser.’
Hearst sat up on his cot. ‘What is the truth about them?’
Cassidy lowered his head and ran his foot along the cell bar. Then he turned to Hearst with his hands held wide apart.
‘They had information and we acted on it, but it was inaccurate.’
Hearst snorted. ‘Inaccurate is an odd word to describe a lie. He said the gold shipment was on that train, and it wasn’t.’
‘Perhaps the train was a decoy. Perhaps the bank guards unloaded the gold before we boarded the train because they learnt that Fernandez would raid it. Perhaps . . .’ Cassidy slapped the bars. ‘I don’t know, but whatever the reason, Nathaniel didn’t lie. Somebody lied to him.’
‘Stop excusing him. He double-crossed us and ran.’ Hearst rolled from his cot and paced across his cell to face Cassidy through the bars. ‘I never thought I’d say this, but you made a mistake. You trusted the word of an outlaw.’
‘He was my deputy.’ Cassidy fixed Hearst with a firm stare. ‘I trust the word of my deputies.’
‘Then trust the word of your current deputy. Nathaniel double-crossed us and now we’re in a jail cell instead of him. The sooner you see that, the sooner we can put this right.’
‘You’re entitled to your opinion, but when you doubt Nathaniel, you doubt me.’
Hearst stared at Cassidy but as Cassidy widened his eyes, he looked away and sat on his cot with his hands clenched before him.
‘I don’t doubt you,’ he said, his eyes downcast. ‘I guess I’m dreading being on the receiving end of a court’s justice.’
‘I can live with that.’ Cassidy nodded to the window, where the bulky outline of Sheriff Ballard was walking past. ‘I reckon this part will be the worst.’
As Hearst looked up and winced, Ballard came in and, with his eyes averted from the cells, talked with Deputy Cartwright. Then he pottered around the office, doing anything but approach the cells.
Just as his silence was grinding on Cassidy’s nerves, he stalked across the office and peered
at him through the bars. Ballard raised his eyebrows, his gaze blank.
Cassidy returned the stare, content to let the silence irritate Ballard in the same way that it had irritated him.
Ballard snorted. ‘So, you’ve got nothing to say for yourself.’
‘I made a mistake.’
‘Is that an apology?’
‘I’ve done nothing to apologize for, other than to try and catch Rodrigo Fernandez.’
‘You’re after him now!’ Ballard hurled his hands above his head. ‘Is there no end to your desire to run my town?’
Cassidy closed his eyes and took long, deep breaths.
‘I wasn’t doing that.’
‘I know. You couldn’t run a wild mustang out of a broken corral.’
‘Quit insulting me and see this from my viewpoint.’
‘I can’t because I don’t understand men like you.’ Ballard shook his head. ‘First, you tell me how to run my town. Then, you ruin my plan to catch Fernandez. Even that wasn’t good enough for you; you then assaulted innocent people.’
‘Like I said, I thought Fernandez was raiding the gold shipment on the train.’
‘There was no gold on the train.’
‘I know that now, but back then I thought—’
‘Enough!’ Ballard turned, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture at Cassidy. ‘I’ve got plenty to do and I don’t want to hear your pathetic whining.’
‘I heard gunfire,’ Cassidy shouted, dashing to the front of the cell. ‘What was I suppose to do?’
Ballard swirled round, his eyes blazing. Then he paced to the cell and threw both hands up to grab the bars on either side of Cassidy’s head.
‘It’s simple. If you’d have left like I told you to, you wouldn’t have heard no gunfire, and a conductor wouldn’t have had a broken arm from you throwing him from a moving train.’
‘I guess if that’s the way you see it, nothing I can say will help.’ Cassidy backed away a pace. ‘So, what will you do with us?’
Ballard withdrew his hands from the bars to rub his chin.
‘As you’re determined to run my town, what do you reckon I should do with you?’
Cassidy searched Ballard’s eyes for sarcasm, but on seeing only contempt, he cocked his head to one side and folded his arms.
‘Accept that we made a mistake. Then let us leave.’
Ballard glanced over his shoulder at Deputy Cartwright and winked, but he kept his head in a position where Cassidy could see the gesture.
‘I will let you leave, but not for your reason. Bringing charges against a lawman, even one as worthless as you, is bad for the reputation of all lawmen.’
Cassidy gritted his teeth. ‘Obliged.’
Ballard flashed a harsh smile. ‘But only after you’ve apologized.’
Cassidy set his feet wide apart and held his hands, palms up.
‘I’m sorry.’
‘That isn’t enough. Tell me what a worthless lawman you are. Tell me how you discredit the badge every day you wear it.’
‘I can’t say that because it isn’t true.’
‘Then you’ll rot in that cell until you do say it.’ Ballard turned on his heel and joined his deputy in animated conversation.
‘Cassidy, we had a chance to leave,’ Hearst said from the adjoining cell.
‘We did, but we don’t now,’ Cassidy said, pacing to the back of the cell.
‘Just say whatever Ballard needs to hear. The words don’t matter as much as capturing Nathaniel and Spenser.’
‘They do.’ Cassidy folded his arms. ‘I won’t say those words.’
Hearst shrugged. Then he jumped to his feet and dashed to the front of his cell.
‘Hey, Sheriff Ballard,’ he shouted, slapping the bars. ‘What do I have to say for me to leave?’
Ballard paced to the cells and considered Hearst.
‘That you apologize,’ Ballard said, his eyes gleaming. ‘That you’re a worthless lawman.’
‘I apologize. I made a mistake.’ Hearst glanced over his shoulder at Cassidy, who winced, and then stood tall. ‘That makes me a worthless lawman.’
‘Hearst, don’t give in to him!’ Cassidy said.
Ballard raised a hand, a smile emerging. ‘Listen to your deputy, Cassidy. There’s hope for him. Now, Hearst, tell me you’re a discredit to the badge.’
Hearst looked Ballard straight in the eye.
‘I’m a discredit to the badge.’
‘Then you can go.’ Ballard gestured for Deputy Cartwright to throw him the keys, and then unlocked Hearst’s cell.
Hearst tipped his hat and edged through the door. He glanced at Cassidy, but Cassidy returned a slow shake of his head.
Without another word or glance at Cassidy, Hearst collected his gunbelt and headed outside.
Ballard smiled and turned back to Cassidy with his eyebrows raised.
‘Your deputy followed orders even when they were bad orders,’ he said. ‘Afterwards, he acknowledged his mistake and faced up to it. I understand him.’
‘I don’t understand you,’ Cassidy said. ‘No lawman should want to belittle another lawman.’
‘You’re not a real lawman. You’re a discredit to the badge.’
Ballard turned away and paced across the office to talk with his deputy. The two men muttered to each other, their voices too low for Cassidy to hear what they discussed. Then they shared a laugh.
With a sly smile emerging, Ballard walked back to Cassidy’s cell. He unlocked the door. Then he turned his back on Cassidy and headed to his desk.
Cassidy pushed himself away from the back wall.
‘Obliged for your change of mind,’ he said.
Ballard sat behind his desk and shook his head.
‘I haven’t. You’ll stay there until you say the words.’
Cassidy pointed at the open cell door. ‘But you’ve unlocked my cell.’
‘I did, and if you leave, I’ll have every man in the county after you.’ Ballard watched the cell door slowly creak open to its full extent and then swing back. ‘So it’s your choice. Tell me what I want to hear and you can go.’
‘Go to hell,’ Cassidy said.
‘I’m going nowhere.’ Ballard chuckled. ‘And neither are you for a long time.’
Chapter Fifteen
‘I’m sorry, but he wouldn’t listen,’ the guard said.
Isaac Gillespie looked up from his desk to face the advancing Deputy Hearst, the guard trailing behind him.
‘Then make him listen or throw him out,’ he said. ‘I’ve had enough of people barging in here.’
‘You will see me,’ Hearst said.
The guard grabbed Hearst’s hand and wrenched it back, forcing Hearst to swirl round. He flexed his arm and pulled both their hands down, but the guard halted Hearst’s progress and, with their eyes locked, the two men strained for supremacy.
‘You heard Mr. Gillespie,’ the guard said. ‘You’re leaving.’
‘Wait!’ Isaac said, with a resigned sigh. ‘If he’s quick, I’ll listen.’
Hearst and the guard exchanged a long stare. Then, with a snap of the wrist, the guard released Hearst’s hand and pushed him a pace towards the desk.
‘You’ve got one minute,’ he said.
‘In private,’ Hearst said, smiling.
The guard grunted an oath, but Isaac pointed to the door and, with an irritated groan, the guard paced outside.
‘So, why have you forced your way in here?’ Isaac said when the guard had shut the door.
Hearst paced across the office to stand before Isaac’s desk.
‘I’m looking for two men.’ Hearst placed both hands down on the desk and glared into Isaac’s eyes. ‘They claimed they were hunting Rodrigo Fernandez and you gave them information.’
‘Sounds like nobody I know.’
‘I’m a lawman.’
‘Then show me papers that say you’ve got a right to see them.’
Hearst raised an eyebrow and sighed. ‘I don’t
need papers for these men.’
Isaac licked his lips and busied himself with moving papers from one side of his desk to the other.
‘Then I can’t help you.’
‘These men aren’t in trouble. They’re bounty hunters, and they have information on some other people I’m looking for.’
Isaac glanced down at the papers coating his desk and then waved in a dismissive manner towards the door.
‘I’m busy.’
‘I know. A gold shipment is coming in to Bear Creek today and you’re hoping that Fernandez doesn’t raid it.’
Isaac winced. ‘Just how many people know about this secret shipment?’
‘Enough, and once you’ve told me where I can find them, I’ll leave and head after them.’
‘I can tell you nothing.’
‘Then, I’ll go to the saloon.’ Hearst turned and strode to the door, but then stomped to a halt. ‘I hope I don’t get too talkative about what I know.’
Isaac took a long breath and sighed.
‘You want to know about two bounty hunters, you say?’
Hearst turned and smiled.
* * *
On hands and knees, Hearst crested the ridge and peered over the other side.
Fifty feet below, two men were kneeling behind a rock, halfway down the slope, peering down at the trail to Bear Creek.
With his eyes narrowed, Hearst confirmed that these men were Nat and Spenser – just as Isaac had promised.
For five minutes Hearst watched them, confirming that they weren’t feigning indifference to his presence. The men knelt with the easy calm of men who expected to surprise others with their sudden appearance, and didn’t expect others to surprise them.
So, with his head down, Hearst paced down the side of the slope. He chose his foot placements with care to avoid dislodging stones, but kept his gun drawn and trained on the men’s back in case they should hear his footfalls.
Such was Nat and Spenser’s interest in the trail below that Hearst moved to within twenty yards of them before Nat flinched and swirled round, but it was only to peer down the barrel of Hearst’s gun.
‘Reach, you two,’ Hearst snapped. He glanced around. ‘Where’s Dewey Wade?’
Wanted McBain Page 6