The Tylers 2

by Neil Hunter

‘You need some help, sir?’ Jacob asked.

  The young officer glanced up at Jacob and nodded. ‘We do, soldier. Trying to get this cannon out of here and down to the river. There are supplies of powder and shot there for this.’

  Jacob put his rifle down and put his shoulder to the cannon along with the others. He sensed Virgil Boone watching him, but he ignored the man.

  Slowly the combined efforts of the men brought the cannon out of the stream and on to level ground.

  ‘All right, boys,’ the officer said, ‘let’s get this gun rolling. See if we can send some Yankee ball over to those damned rebels!’

  And right then a number of Confederates burst out of the trees behind them. A rattle of rifle fire burst out.

  Jacob spun round, grabbing for his rifle. As he swung the gun around he saw the young officer crashing to the ground, a bloody wound in his chest, the back of his blue uniform torn and red. And then Jacob was firing, sending shot after shot at the running gray figures. Other rifles joined his as the six Union troopers picked up their own weapons.

  The exchange lasted for only a few seconds. Four rebels went down and the few remaining ran for the cover of the dense trees.

  ‘Let’s move this damn gun,’ Jacob said.

  ‘Tyler, I’ll give the orders!’ Virgil Boone yelled.

  ‘Then give ‘em, ‘cause we ain’t staying here long,’ Jacob told him.

  The other men exchanged glances; obviously there was something between these two. Most of the men knew Jacob, liked him. Boone, on the other hand, wasn’t popular with anyone.

  ‘Tyler, you go against me and I’ll have you court-martialled! These men will be my witnesses!’

  ‘Damnit, Boone, to Hell with our grievances! Let’s get this cannon rolling. There’s a battle going on and we need this gun. I’ll face you anytime after this is over, but right now I don’t give a damn about you or what you’re shouting about!’

  Jacob turned to the cannon and looked at the six troopers. ‘Come on, boys, how about a hand?’

  The six hesitated for a moment, then joined Jacob at the gun. As they got it rolling they were all too busy to notice Virgil Boone’s next move.

  If Jacob hadn’t been where he was he too would have gone without noticing. He was, however, in the right place at the right time, and that saved his life.

  He happened to glance up, wanting to know where Boone was, and he saw the man straightaway. Boone was standing behind the thick trunk of a tree, looking back into the wood, his face white with fear, his eyes staring. Sweat shone on his skin.

  Jacob threw a quick glance in the direction Boone was looking, and he saw a great number of Confederates coming out of the trees. There were scores of them, too many to count, and they’d seen the cannon and the men pushing it.

  In that moment Boone threw a frightened glance towards the cannon. For a scant second his eyes met Jacob’s, and then, before even Jacob knew what he was up to, Boone had melted quickly to one side, easing himself into the thick brush and trees. He’d done it without being seen by the advancing Confederate force, for the tree he’d stood behind hid him from them.

  Too late Jacob realised what had happened. Boone had gone, deserting his men without even warning them, taking himself off into the cover of the trees without making a sound.

  In the few seconds the whole episode took, Jacob found himself the only one knowing about the rebels. He began to shout a warning and then the whole world exploded with sound as a dozen, maybe more, Confederate rifles opened up on the men around the cannon. Something caught Jacob on the back of the head and he pitched forward across the cannon, then slid to the ground. He heard more shots, men screaming. A heavy weight fell across him. He could feel something warm running down his face, and then the world went dark and silent and he knew no more.

  He didn’t see the six troopers cut down in a ragged volley of shots that tore their bodies into bloody rags. Nor did he see the mass of rebels sweep on by the gun and its seven minders. He lay unconscious, with one of the dead troopers lying across him. He didn’t hear the battle fade into the distance, leaving the dim wood silent again until the birds came back to settle on the trees.

  He came to later with a sickening headache and the back of his head sticky with blood. There was a lot of blood on his face and shirt, but that had come from the dead trooper lying across him. Jacob got himself clear and stood up. He was dizzy, sick. He hunted round for his rifle, checked it over.

  He spent an unpleasant few minutes trying to find a sign of life in the bodies of the troopers, but there was nothing. They were all dead, and that made Jacob angry. None of them had had a chance. Not even to defend themselves. They hadn’t been warned. Given a chance they might have fought their way out, but Virgil Boone had taken that chance from them when he’d failed to call out.

  Jacob stood up, his face drawn and angry. Boone! Damn the man! Where was he? Still running for his miserable life! Someone ought to shoot him down like the dog he was. Six good men were dead because of Boone’s cowardice. And Jacob counted himself lucky to be alive. Maybe he could do something about Boone now. If he’d spoken up sooner perhaps this might not have happened. But Jacob didn’t reproach himself too much. No good mooning over something in the past. Maybe he should have said something, but he hadn’t, and that was that.

  Perhaps his chance would come. Boone would show up somewhere, sometime. And maybe then . . . what? Jacob had a feeling he was kidding himself. Boone wouldn’t stand up and fight. He’d refuse to face Jacob with a gun, and no matter how much he hated the man, Jacob knew he wasn’t about to shoot him down without a chance.

  Jacob turned away from the place of death and moved off through the wood, heading back for the Union lines, keeping his eyes open for any sign of the enemy — and for Virgil Boone!

  But his chance never came. Fate stepped in and took Boone away before Jacob could settle with him except for a couple of brief meetings, which gave Jacob the chance to land a few well-delivered blows. Seth and Brigham, who now knew the story, were forced to step in and restrain their brother. They knew how he felt, but they knew that Jacob’s fiery temper was liable to land him deep in trouble before he could explain his hatred for Boone. A week later Virgil Boone was transferred to another company, and Jacob never saw him again.

  Not until the day he showed up at Blanco Station with Alvin LeRoy . . .

  Jacob sat up and threw his blanket aside. He reached for the pot of coffee he’d left on the fire and poured himself a mug. Damn Boone! He wished he could get the man out of his mind. He had enough problems to handle without being haunted by the man’s image. He drank the bitter coffee. It was something that would fade in time. Jacob lay down again, dragging his blanket over him. His prime concern now was Will Retford. No matter how long it took. No matter how far he had to go. He had to find Will, and somehow get him to tell the truth, the way it had really happened back there at Blanco Station.

  As he finally drifted off into a restless sleep Jacob didn’t realise just how far he would have to go, or the things that were waiting for him. Even if he had it wouldn’t have made any difference, or stopped him!

  Chapter Sixteen

  By mid-afternoon the herd had settled in the stock pens at the north end of Bannock, and a couple of hours later Dunhill had collected his money and paid off the crew.

  Standing on the boardwalk outside the cattle-company office, Jacob Tyler stared hard at the roll of bills in his hand. It had been some long time since he’d held such an amount. It had been more or less this way since that day back at Blanco Station; the day when Virgil Boone and Nancy had died, and Jacob had taken off after Will Retford. He’d lost count of the long months that had slid by, had long since stopped counting the miles as he trailed Will. Jacob had expected a long chase, but by no means as long as this. Will Retford had proved to be a damn sight smarter than Jacob had at first anticipated. It soon became apparent that Will knew a lot of country very well; he seemed to know a thousand places to hi
de, and he also seemed to have a lot of friends. More than once Jacob had met hostility when he’d asked questions about Will. But Jacob knew he had to keep looking. Will was his only proof that he hadn’t killed Virgil Boone, and Jacob knew he was going to have to have that proof before he could determine his innocence to the one man who seemed bound to try and get him hanged — U.S. Marshal Alvin LeRoy. LeRoy was on his trail most of the time; the marshal had other duties, but his prime target, almost his obsession, was Jacob, and whenever their paths happened to come close to crossing, LeRoy made it his business to go after Jacob; more than once Jacob had come close to falling foul of LeRoy, but his instinct for survival somehow managed to keep him free.

  When his money ran out Jacob was forced to abandon his pursuit of Will Retford. He took any job that came his way, not that he found it difficult; Jacob was a good man with cattle and there was plenty of work in that line; he took other jobs too, not always to his taste, but Jacob knew that to continue his chase after Will he had to eat and survive the cold winter, to keep himself in clothing and ammunition. So he worked as he followed Will, taking himself through the long winter, picking up information as he went, until now, in late spring he found himself at the end of a two month cattle-drive that had brought him to this remote little town called Bannock, high up in the wild Teton country of Wyoming.

  It wasn’t much of a town either. Just a single street, rutted and spongy with spring rain. The town had survived a long, hard winter, and it showed; the buildings were all ready for a coat of paint and from what Jacob had seen of the citizens of Bannock they might have benefited from a little brightening up themselves.

  Jacob folded his money and put it away in his shirt pocket. He squared his hat and stared up and down the street until he spotted what he was looking for. A shave and a hot bath were priorities on Jacob’s list, then a change of clothing. And after that a good meal.

  On his way down to the barber-shop Jacob passed Bannock’s only saloon; from inside he could hear the celebrating of his former trail-partners; as soon as the rest of the crew had received their pay they’d headed straight for the saloon and its liquid delights, intent on some hard drinking before they rode out.

  They were still making their noise when Jacob came out of the barbershop close on an hour later.

  He passed on down the street, pushing his way into a crowded restaurant where he ordered beefsteak and fried potatoes, beans and a pot of coffee.

  While he ate Jacob reviewed his position: he had money now, enough to keep him in supplies for a good few months: before him lay the prospect of more searching for Will, all the time watching over his shoulder for sign of LeRoy: the thought of it all did little to help Jacob’s peace of mind, but he knew he had no choice.

  He finished his meal and left the restaurant, wandering out on to the boardwalk. He stood for a time watching the town go about its business. Somewhere, here in Bannock, Will had left a trail that Jacob needed to pick up. And once again by the time Jacob had picked up that trail, Will would be long gone. To Jacob it sometimes seemed a hell of a way to spend time.

  But he knew just as well that until he had this matter settled he would never be able to find a place where he could set himself down to stay. Only when he’d cleared himself could he consider his future.

  Jacob turned abruptly, angry at his morbid thoughts. He headed down the street, making for the livery where he’d stabled his horse. Before he did anything else he wanted to make sure the animal was settled. He was never sure just when he might need the speed and stamina of the powerful chestnut.

  The livery was at the far end of town, standing on its own close by a cluster of corrals. As Jacob reached the open doors of the livery he became aware of the silence and emptiness that surrounded the place. Straightaway Jacob reacted, and it was without conscious thought or effort. His right hand went to the holstered colt on his right hip, easing it free in one fluid movement. But despite his speed Jacob was too late. He caught a glimpse of a lunging shadow coming in from his left, sensed more movement behind him. He half-turned, then felt a crashing blow across the side of his head. Jacob stumbled to his knees, trying to keep himself from slipping into the darkness that seemed to be engulfing him. His senses wavered, though he was still aware when rough hands grasped him, dragging him upright. A hard fist caught him in the mouth and Jacob tasted blood. He struggled against the hands that held him, but he was still weak from the blow to his head. Again and again the unseen fist delivered heavy blows to Jacob’s face and body until he lost consciousness. For a moment they held him, then released him, letting Jacob slump to the ground.

  He came out of the darkness slowly, feeling the pain that engulfed his body. Even before full awareness returned, Jacob realised that he was no longer in the livery. He was, he found when he finally opened his eyes, lying on a low cot. He also realised something else, and realised it very quickly — the cot he was lying on was behind bars. There was no mistaking that. Jacob sat up, swearing silently to himself as sickness rose up in him. He remained motionless for a while, waiting for the giddiness to subside.

  Jacob stood up. He noticed that his gun belt was gone from around his waist. Yet he could feel the folded wad of money still in his shirt pocket. He crossed the floor of the cell and stood at the barred door, looking out at the small, shadowed office. A desk stood over in the far corner, a man seated behind it. As Jacob reached the cell door, the man looked up. Jacob couldn’t see his face. It was in deep shadow until the man stood up and walked around the desk, coming up to stand in front of the cell.

  The sickness inside Jacob ceased to exist. He even forgot about the pounding driving at him from inside his skull. Everything faded from Jacob’s mind as he stared at the man before him. A man wearing a gun and a town marshal’s badge. A man with a face Jacob knew.

  And a name Jacob knew .

  Will Retford!

  Time had altered Will’s appearance.

  He was heavier now and he’d grown a thick moustache, but Jacob recognised him. And with that recognition came sudden anger. Jacob gripped the bars of the cell door until his fingers ached.

  ‘This is the way I figured we’d meet, Tyler,’ Will said, self-satisfaction in his voice.

  ‘Just don’t make the mistake of getting on the wrong side of these bars,’ Jacob said softly.

  Will grinned. ‘Ain’t no chance of that. But I aim to settle with you, Tyler, and the time’s comin’ fast.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘Meaning you’ve gone and walked right in on a cosy set-up I got runnin’ in this town. And I got to get rid of you.’

  ‘Bullet in the back down a dark alley is more like your style.’

  ‘I got something like that figured out.’ Will reached into his shirt pocket and drew out a folded sheet of paper. He opened the paper and handed it to Jacob.

  Jacob found himself looking at a poster which read:

  Wanted For Murder & Armed Robbery. Jacob Tyler, Formerly Of Colorado & Texas. This Man Is A Violent & Dangerous Killer. Anyone Capturing Or Aiding In The Capture Of This Fugitive Will Receive A Reward Of Five Thousand Dollars. For Information Refer To William Ford, Marshal, Bannock, Wyoming. And beneath the text was an artist’s impression of Jacob’s likeness.

  ‘What the hell is this, Retford?’ Jacob asked, his face angry.

  ‘Just what it says. Round these parts you’re a wanted man.’ Will leaned against the wall, rolling a cigarette. ‘In the last few months you and your gang have had quite a spree. Robbing banks, holding up the stages. Even a couple of railroad holdups. Killed a fair number of folks too. Only you ain’t been that careful, Tyler, ‘cause you got yourself recognised on one of your raids. Eye-witness!’

  ‘Bought and paid for?’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Will said.

  ‘But I’m beginning to figure it,’ Jacob said. ‘Looks like you’ve got it made. Get yourself made marshal. Round yourself up a bunch of hardcases and start pulling robberies under the cover
of the law. Smart idea. Brilliant coming from you.’

  ‘Don’t get smart, Tyler. You ain’t in any position to talk clever. Mister, because of me you’re a wanted man round here. Worth five thousand to any man able to pull a gun and trigger it. Just remember that. I made the frame to fit you, Tyler, and I could shoot you now and get away with it.’

  ‘So why don’t you?’

  ‘It’ll look better if you’re shot while escaping. Sort of round things off nice. In a way it’ll be a shame. With you dead I’ll have to figure some other way of diverting attention from me and my boys. See, Tyler, you coming to Bannock has sort of spoilt my plan. But I knew sooner or later you’d turn up. And when those boys down at the livery recognised you and jumped you, I had to jail you to keep things looking right. Being marshal I have to obey the law all the way down the line.’

  ‘How the hell did you get that badge, Retford?’

  Will touched the badge on his shirt. ‘Seems I rode in at the right time. Regular marshal had just upped and died of old age. Day I arrived I got mixed up in a crooked poker game and ended up shooting the town’s black sheep. Next thing I knew I was being offered the marshal’s job. Seemed like a good chance so I upped and took it. Ain’t looked back since.’

  Behind Will the jail door opened and three men came in. They were all hard-looking individuals, wearing guns that had seen a lot of use. They sauntered across and stood looking through the bars at Jacob. Now that they were close Jacob could see that each man wore a deputy marshal’s badge.

  ‘Like you to meet some of my boys,’ Will said. ‘Bodrey. Kilter. Jackson.’

  ‘So this is the feller been giving us all the trouble?’ Kilter said.

  ‘Robbin’ banks and the like,’ Bodrey added.

  Jackson smiled coldly. ‘Territory’ll be a safer place with him out of the way.’

  ‘Bright bunch you’ve hired yourself,’ Jacob said to Will.

  ‘Don’t let ‘em fool you, Tyler. These boys could take you without losin’ breath.’