by Neil Hunter
‘I never would have expected you to be so squeamish, Traeger.’
‘The dead don’t bother me. It’s just how they attract attention from the law.’
‘The police will blunder around for a while. As they always do. By the time they reach a decision we will have moved our plans forward and accomplished what we set out to do.’
‘You make it sound so damned easy.’
‘Any path taken will have stumbling blocks. It is a case of anticipating and circumventing them.’
Traeger turned from the The Lily Wanderer’s cabin window and glanced across at the seated Tong Master. He could smell the slightly sweet smell of the smoke from the small clay pipe Tung held.
Opium.
The Tong Master partook of the product he sold so willingly. Not in great amounts that would make him a slave to it like the unfortunates he bound to the drug. Tung used it as an occasional calming influence and Traeger believed it was what kept the man in control of his actions. Tung was clever enough never to allow himself to be dominated to the drug. Many of the Chinese under his command used it to a greater degree and Tung fed it to them as a reward for their loyalty.
Traeger had only tried it once and it had sickened him so badly he refused to even think about using it again. He decide he would stick to a glass of whiskey if he needed to calm his nerves. He could have done with some right now. Even though The Lily Wanderer was at anchor in the relatively calm water of the enclosed bay, the gentle movement of the vessel affected him. His stomach felt unsettled.
‘When can we get off this damned boat?’
Tung managed a condescending smile as he leaned forward. ‘Of course, you are not a lover of sailing, Traeger. To be honest with all that is going on I had forgotten.’
‘I hadn’t…’
A hard fist rapped on the cabin door. Tung gave a command in Chinese and the door opened. It was Lo Keye.
In English Tung asked, ‘What is it?’
‘The girl. She tried to break free.’
‘Is she hurt?’
‘We had to restrain her. She struck the guard bringing her food and tried to run. In the struggle to restrain her she took a blow to her head.’
Tung stood. ‘Is she conscious?’
Keye nodded. ‘More angry than hurt.’
‘The girl has spirit. Let us go and see her.’
They made their way to the fore-cabin where Jasmine Soong was being held. In the cabin she was seated on the bunk, closely watched by two of Tung’s men.
‘Now I am being visited by the great man himself,’ she said. ‘Is this what it takes to get your attention, Tung?’
There was a red mark down the side of her face that must have been painful, yet there was no trace of fear in her voice as she stood to confront Tung. Traeger stood to one side, a faint smile on his face.
‘I see you have your eager puppy dog at your side, Tung.’
‘I am disappointed you feel you want to leave us,’ Tung said. ‘Is the accommodation not to your taste?’
‘The surroundings could be worse, Tung. It is the foul stench in the air that offends me.’
‘Someone in your position,’ Traeger said, ‘should be careful what you say.’
‘Or what? You’ll kill me? Wouldn’t that rather be a waste of all the effort put into kidnapping me?’
‘The young woman has a point, Traeger,’ Tung said, a thin smirk on his lips. ‘After all, we took Miss Soong so we could use her as a bargaining object. If she were dead her father would no longer be persuaded to assist us.’
‘Just why am I here, Tung? What is it you want from my father?’ Jasmine asked. ‘No one has told me why I was taken.’
‘All in good time,’ Tung said. ‘Right now I have a more pressing matter to attend to. I believe it may suggest to you that I am serious in my intentions. Bring her.’
Tung led the way back on deck where Chinese crewmembers were gathered. He began to address them in Chinese. A figure was pushed into view. He stood, head down.
‘This is the man who failed to restrain you,’ Tung said to Jasmine. ‘His mistake could have allowed you to escape.’
Tung gestured to Keye. He moved quickly and confronted the lone Chinese. He struck with unrestrained brutality, his blows rendering the unfortunate man to the deck. A final, palm-edged blow snapped the man’s neck. He fell face down on the deck, body in spasm until death took him.
Jasmine turned away, a horrified gasp escaping her lips.
‘Remember this if thoughts of escape fill your mind again,’ Tung said. ‘There may come a time when your presence may become more of a burden than your usefulness.’
Traeger eased the Tong leader aside.
‘Tung, we need to get back to town. There are matters to attend to if Soong sends a message. The girl is secure. We can’t afford to waste time here.’
‘I suppose you are right,’ Tung agreed.
He faced his crew and gave orders in Chinese. Jasmine was escorted back to her cabin. Tung made it clear what would happen if further incidents took place.
‘You think your orders will be followed this time?’ Traeger asked.
Tung allowed one of his rare smiles. ‘They understand what will happen if any more mistakes occur.’
A small boat was moored at the side of The Lily Wanderer. It took Tung, Traeger and Lo Keye back to shore. A number of the hired guns were there and Tung gave them their orders. They were to stay in the area in case anyone showed up.
Taking the reins of the buggy, Keye turned it around as Tung and Traeger settled in the seats and they headed back in the direction of San Francisco.
Chapter Twelve
Kilpatrick wore a pair of Cavalry style Butternut pants, held up by broad suspenders over a gray shirt. A much used cloth coat covered the holstered revolver strapped around his waist and a battered Derby hat was jammed on his head.
‘Sergeant, just the sight of you will make even a Tong man run away,’ Hallows said, barely managing to keep a straight face.
‘If that’s the case, sir,’ Kilpatrick said, ‘then I’ll be a happy man.’ He reached under the back of his coat to show the lethal-looking wooden billy club he carried. ‘Just in case I run out of bullets, you understand,’ he added.
They had gathered in Hallows’ office for a final discussion. Richard Hunt was there too, disappointment showing on his face at not being fit enough to join them. He had accepted the group decision and in truth he understood. He was still weak from his wound and in no state to go riding across country on the back of a jogging horse. The doctor, too, was concerned over him and wanted to keep an eye on his patient.
‘No strenuous maneuvers. That arm needs time for the damage to knit together. And you will still be weak from blood loss for a while.’
‘Fine, you’re the doctor,’ Hunt said. ‘I just wanted to make my mark. The Chinese Tong is why I came to America in the first place.’
‘From what I’ve heard,’ Bodie said, ‘you’ve already made your mark.’
‘Still leaves me out of the main action.’
‘Richard,’ Brand said, ‘staying at Doc Boyd’s and watching over him is important. The Tong might have it on their minds to make a visit if they believe Henry Lee is still alive.’
‘True enough,’ Hallows said. ‘They don’t give up easily and they are strong on retribution.’
‘All right, Jason, I’m convinced. I’ll get over there now.’ Hunt said. He had his revolver holstered on his right hip, butt forward so he could easily reach it with his left hand. ‘Good luck, chaps,’ he said as he left.
Boyd wished them luck and followed Hunt out.
‘The place Lee described,’ Brand said. ‘Where they might have Jasmine Soong…’
‘About five miles outside the city,’ Hallows said, indicating it on a map tacked to his office wall. ‘The Belker place has been deserted for a few years since the original owner went bankrupt and left. Mora bay is here. No more than a couple of miles west.’
> ‘I can find it,’ Kilpatrick said. ‘Give me a half hour and I’ll have horses ready.’
After the Irishman had left Brand and Bodie readied the weapons at hand. Hallows had provided long guns and ammunition for them.
‘We could find ourselves facing a strong force,’ he pointed out.
‘Then let’s make sure were loaded for bear,’ Bodie said, a cold grin on his face. ‘For a lot of damn bears. I’m in the mood for a hunt.’
‘Is he always so cheerful?’ Hallows asked.
‘Bodie? Yeah, he always sees the funny side of any situation.’
‘Nobody ever said that about me before.’
‘Take it as a compliment.’
~*~
Kilpatrick showed up with four saddled horses. Mounted they rode slowly through the busy streets until the city fell behind them and they picked up a well-beaten trail leading west. The ocean lay on their left, gradually slipping from sight as Kilpatrick veered slightly north. At first they found themselves riding by ranches and farms, the countryside lush and scattered with timber. The further they rode from San Francisco, the wider spread were the outfits.
Drawing rein in a scatter of trees Kilpatrick thrust out an arm. ‘There she is,’ he said.
Beyond the trees the terrain fell away in a long, sweeping view into a wide basin, bounded on all sides by open slopes. A generous house, constructed in the Spanish style, with white walls and a deep red tiled roof. There were a number of strongly built corrals, outhouse and a pair of large barns. A wide stream, water sparkling in the sun, curved along the land. A tall windmill swung lazily in the slight breeze. The place had a deserted look to it, grass and undergrowth long and unattended.
“Now that,’ Hallows said, ‘is real pretty. Kind of place a man could take to and settle down.’
‘Yeah?’ Bodie said. ‘So tell me why there isn’t a moving soul, man or beast, in sight? Tell me that. Hell, maybe Tung has moved his people away.’
Even though they sat and studied the layout for a good ten minutes they saw nothing.
‘If we circle around we can come in back of the barns,’ Brand suggested. ‘Take a closer look.’
‘I guess,’ Hallows said. ‘Since we rode all this way, be a shame not to have a closer look.’
They stayed within the cover of the trees and made the long, slow ride around the rim of the basin until they were looking down on the far side of the spread. They dismounted, tied the horses under cover. Rifles in hand they walked the slope that took them to the flatland and the back yard of the house, coming up to the solid bulk of the barns.
It was here they made a discovery. Moving down the side of the closest barn they picked up muffled sounds coming from inside.
‘If that ain’t horses…’ Bodie said.
A side door allowed them access. The mingled odors of hay and feed, leather and horses met them. Down one wall were a number of stalls and unsaddled horses stirred restlessly when they moved toward the main doors.
Brand paused to inspect a line of tracks in the hard packed dirt floor. The marks left by iron-rimmed wheels. Some kind of buggy pulled by a two-horse team. He followed the tracks to the main door. He crouched and checked the marks. Moisture was still seeping into the earth. He gestured to Bodie and the man hunter made his own inspection
‘Few hours I’d say. Somebody left.’
The tracks led to the main door and when they eased one of the high doors open a few inches they were able to see the buggy tracks lead off across the yard and out onto open land.
‘If they left someone in the house,’ Kilpatrick said, ‘there’s likely they’ll know where the buggy went.’
Chapter Thirteen
Brand and Bodie took the frontal approach, leaving Inspector Hallows and Kilpatrick to cover the rear of the house. Giving the Inspector and his Sergeant time to get into position, Brand led his partner to the stoop, up the steps and paused at the front door. They stood on either side, weapons at the ready.
‘Set?’ Bodie asked.
Brand nodded and Bodie raised a booted foot, slamming it against the door. The lock shattered and the door flew wide. Bodie ducked inside, Brand on his heels as they went inside.
Almost immediately there was a crash from the rear of the house. Voices were raised.
A gun fired.
An armed man stepped from a door along the hallway. The moment he saw Brand and Bodie he swept up the pistol he carried. He fired hastily, the slug tearing a strip of wood from the doorframe behind them.
Bodie and Brand fired together and the shooter was twisted aside as .45 slugs slammed into his upper body. He slumped to the floor, a second man stepping over him, a pistol in each hand. Heavy .45 caliber slugs burned through the air. He was cursing loudly as he fired, his words lost in the hammer of gunfire, creating noise but little else.
Brand and Bodie flattened to the wall, avoiding the volley. Brand returned fire, remaining calm as he pushed his Colt forward, held for a few seconds before he fired. His slug struck the man above his left eye, sending him stumbling back...
…Kilpatrick pushed his way through the back door. It led directly into the kitchen, where one man was tending to the cooking and a second seated at a rough table, bent over a plate of food. The sudden appearance of the big Irishman caught the men off guard as they turned, startled.
Just then gunfire erupted from the front of the house.
‘Sonofabitch,’ the seated man yelled.
He went for the pistol holstered on his hip, kicking away his ladder-back chair and sending it across the floor.
Hallows, crowding behind Kilpatrick, witnessed the man’s move. He raised his pistol and fired without a moment’s hesitation. His slug thumped into the man’s chest and sent him sprawling across the table.
The man at the stove was faster, drawing his holstered pistol in a smooth movement. He angled it in Kilpatrick’s direction and triggered a single shot that tore hard across the Irishman’s side. Kilpatrick returned fire even as he felt the impact, his well-placed shot striking the other in the chest. The man fell back against the stove, scattering cooking utensils as he fell, then dropped to the floor.
‘Seamus’ Hallows said as the Irishman sagged against the door frame.
Kilpatrick clamped a big hand to his side, blood surging through his fingers. ‘Nothing, sir,’ he said. ‘A scratch is all.’
‘Scratch be damned, you stubborn man. Go sit down over there and stay while I go and see how Brand and Bodie are. That’s an order, Sergeant.’
Hallows put away his pistol and checked his rifle before making for the door leading into the main house where he could hear additional shots…
…there were two more armed men in the room that had housed the pair Brand and Bodie had faced.
Coolidge and Butler, a pair of gunmen employed by Traeger. It hadn’t been difficult to find and hire them. Tung had advised Traeger where to locate them on the Barbary Coast section of the city. The job had been easy as far as the pair were concerned. All they had been expected to do was be around and await orders from Traeger. If truth were told it turned out to be fairly low key. Not that Coolidge and Butler were too concerned about that. They were being paid so there was no need to complain. It was easy pay. Lounging around in the house. Food and drink provided – even if the drink was only coffee. Hard liquor would have to wait until they returned to San Francisco.
The same had gone for Trego and Sims, the other pair who made up the bunch.
Only that situation had changed all of a sudden.
Gunfire filled the house with its noise.
Trego and Sims, had responded to the sound of the front door being kicked open. They had rushed from the main room, guns up and had walked into hostile fire.
Their bloody bodies were in view outside the door, and though Coolidge and Butler reacted swiftly, they were not swift enough.
A pair of armed figures rushed the doorway, guns up and sweeping the room.
Butler got off a single sh
ot before return fire came and Butler’s left shoulder blossomed red as he took a slug that broke bone and tore out a chunk of flesh and muscle as it exited. Butler was jerked back by the force of the slug. He expelled a pained grunt as he dropped, letting go of his pistol.
The moment he fired Brand went into a low crouch, allowing Bodie a clear field.
The manhunter tracked his target and triggered two fast shots that hammered at Coolidge’s chest. The impact stopped Coolidge in his tracks. He fell against the wall. Sliding down to the floor, leaving a bloody smear behind.
Brand picked up a scuffling sound. Turned. Saw Butler sliding himself across the floor until he was able to pull himself into a corner of the room. His right hand gripped his bloody shoulder and a low moaning came from his lips. Brand spotted the gun the man had dropped and scooped it up.
Brand turned as Butler let out a pained cry. Hunched against the angle of the walls the man was hugging his damaged shoulder, eyes staring at Brand in a silent plea for help. Blood was pulsing from the wound, staining his hand and spilling down his shirt.
‘Help…me…’
Brand crossed the room to stand over the injured man.
‘Where’s Tung? Traeger. And the girl? Where’ve they gone?’
‘Son of a bitch...’
‘You got that part right. Now tell me what I want to know.’
‘My shoulder…’
‘Longer you hold out the more it’s going to hurt. Answer my question.’
‘You got no damn right.’
‘Nobody said anything about right.’ Brand’s voice rose to a shout. ‘Answer my damn question.’
He raised his foot and pressed the sole of his boot against Butler’s bloody shoulder, applying pressure. Butler let go a scream. He stared up at Brand’s taut face and even in his agony he realized things would get even worse if he didn’t speak.
‘The girl?’
‘She’s on The Lily Wanderer. A coastal ship is all. It’s moored in a small bay nearby. Mora Bay. They took the girl there. They’ll keep her on board while they sail up and down the coast.’