Bannerman the Enforcer 43

by Kirk Hamilton

  But, even as he saddled-up down at the corrals with Cato, he had a strong hunch that it would be better to ride into Dallas and pick up the train to Liberation. Cato arched his eyebrows in surprise when Yancey mentioned it.

  “Slower, ain’t it?” asked the small Enforcer, tightening his cinch strap.

  “Be about the same time, I reckon. Johnny—I’ve a hunch it’s the better way. I dunno why, but something tells me to go to Dallas first.”

  Cato nodded soberly: he had great respect for his pard’s hunches. They had gotten them out of trouble many a time, literally saved their lives. He swung up onto his chestnut.

  “Whatever you say, Yance.”

  The big Enforcer mounted and then looked towards the ranch house. Mattie was at her father’s room window and she lifted a hand. He started to wave in reply and then saw Todd Loomis lounging outside the ranch office, arms folded across his chest, staring coldly.

  “Hey, what’s goin’ on?” Cato asked puzzledly as Yancey suddenly dismounted again. “Another hunch?”

  “You could say so,” Yancey said, looping his mount’s reins over the corral rail. “I don’t aim to leave pa and Mattie here. I’m tolerably sure Loomis is in this up to his neck. He suspects I’m getting close to finding proof. I figure to take Mattie and pa into Dallas and have Sheriff Buckmann guard ’em while we go after Wolfe and his pards.”

  Cato nodded in approval. “Your father okay to make the trip?”

  “According to Boles he’s fit enough to go back to ’Frisco. That wound’s healing fine.”

  Yancey paused on the porch as Loomis said:

  “Forget somethin’?”

  “Yeah. I’m moving pa and Mattie into Dallas. The sheriff can keep an eye on ’em.”

  Loomis’ eyes narrowed. “I—see. Well, me and the boys are goin’ into town for some supplies later. They could come with us if you don’t want to be held up.”

  Yancey smiled thinly. “I’ll escort ’em.”

  Loomis shrugged. “Sure.”

  His eyes were like flint as Yancey went on into the house, calling for Mattie.

  They heard the shooting as they rode into the plaza, Cato and Yancey leading on their horses, Mattie, C.B. and Doc Boles following in the hired rig.

  The Enforcers reined down and Yancey signaled to Mattie to stop the rig.

  “What is it?” she asked anxiously.

  The gunfire came from the far side of town and folk were running out into the streets, starting towards the sound.

  “Get pa into his suite at the Mansion House!” Yancey ordered his sister and then nodded to Cato.

  They spurred their mounts across the plaza and headed towards Plains Street which led out to the exclusive residential section of town.

  “Any idea where it’s comin’ from?” Cato yelled as he galloped alongside Yancey.

  “Mebbe.”

  Then Yancey saw a horseman coming towards them, hunched over in the saddle, one arm dangling, and he recognized one of Sheriff Buckmann’s deputies. Yancey waved him down and their mounts skidded to a halt in a cloud of dust. The deputy clung desperately to the saddlehorn, face gray with pain, blood all over his shirtfront, one arm smashed at the shoulder.

  “What’s wrong?” Yancey snapped.

  The man moved his head back the way he had come. “Linc Barnett’s place. Milo Wolfe and his pards are holed-up there. Seems they busted in on Linc’s family and they’ve got ’em hostage ... I spotted ’em by accident and told Buckmann. He’s out there now tryin’ to hold ’em. They say they’ll kill the hostages if they don’t get fresh broncs and money to reach the border.”

  “Money? After what they took from the bank?”

  The deputy shook his head. “Claim they’ve spent it. Said it was only five thousand. Barnett lied about the forty-seven thousand, used the robbery to cover his embezzlin’... Now I got to get me to a sawbones, Bannerman ...”

  “Sure. Move.” Yancey lifted the reins. “Let’s go, Johnny.” They rode fast to the end of the street, past a couple of large white homes and then came to Barnett’s estate. There was a rattle of gunfire as they dismounted behind brush at the big swinging wooden gates and they instinctively flattened against the white adobe wall, then, crouching, ran through and moved towards an ornate fountain where Sheriff Buckmann crouched, rifle to shoulder.

  He spun around as the Enforcers arrived, Winchesters in hands.

  “Hell, I thought more of Wolfe’s men had arrived!” he breathed.

  “How many of ’em in there?” Yancey snapped.

  “Four or five, not sure. I’ve only got one deputy left—yonder, behind that rain butt. Other one was wounded. They got Mrs. Barnett and the daughter and son hostage upstairs. Linc himself is in there, but I dunno whether he’s doin’ any shootin’ or not. Was only luck that my deputy spotted ’em in the grounds ...” All three ducked as there came a volley from the house and chips of stone flew from the fountain, the head of one of the angels supporting the main water jet leapt into the air.

  “Get back, or we kill ’em one at a time!” roared a voice. “Just to show we ain’t foolin’, here’s the first!”

  A pair of glass doors on the upper floor suddenly crashed open and a man’s body hurtled across the narrow balcony, struck the rail and somersaulted over, plummeting down into the garden.

  “By God!” breathed Buckmann, shocked. “Who was that?”

  “Barnett,” Yancey said grimly. “Guess he’d outlived his usefulness. You’re the one they’ve got to negotiate with now, Buckmann.”

  “What the hell am I gonna do?” the sheriff breathed.

  His deputy fired several shots into the upper floor and guns from inside barked in reply, lead whining in ricochet.

  “Reckon there’re five in there,” Cato said, crouching low.

  “Buckmann, you call out that you’re sendin’ for fresh broncs and grub and money,” Yancey said. “Stall ’em. Johnny and me’ll try to get inside.”

  “Hell, if you’re spotted there’ll be a massacre!”

  “Stall ’em, damn it!” Yancey growled and nodded to Cato. They gathered themselves and ran for the gates. Guns hammered from the house and bullets pocked the wooden gates, sending splinters flying. They skidded outside and dived for the brush where the horses were tethered. As they crouched there, they heard Sheriff Buckmann frantically yelling for the outlaws to hold their fire, that he was sending two men after fresh mounts and food and money.

  There was no reply from Wolfe or his men, but the shooting stopped.

  “How we gonna get in there, Yance, without endangerin’ those folk?” Cato asked.

  “Have to divert Wolfe. Best way to do that is bring back a bunch of horses with bulging saddlebags so they figure it’s their getaway mounts. Then, when they’re going to fetch ’em, we move in from the rear. We better ride off a ways or they’ll get suspicious.”

  The Enforcers mounted and lost no time in riding back down the street. Yancey headed right into the plaza and immediately saw a bunch of riders coming in, heads cocked at the sounds of spasmodic gunfire coming from Barnett’s place. Yancey recognized Loomis and Lang and some other punchers from Big-B. He saw that the ranch manager knew where the shooting was coming from and the man looked apprehensively at the Enforcers, as they reined down.

  Loomis and his men halted outside the Mansion House. Yancey folded his hands on his saddlehorn.

  “Barnett’s dead, Loomis. We’ve got Wolfe buffaloed. We know you’ve been robbing Big-B blind for years, so you might’s well give up easy now ...”

  “Yancey, what is it? What’s happened?”

  The Enforcer snapped his head up as Mattie came out onto the hotel porch. “Get back inside, sis!”

  Loomis jammed in the spurs and leapt his mount up onto the boardwalk. Yancey palmed up his Colt and Cato was a hair’s-breadth behind in getting the Manstopper out but they both held their fire as Loomis got his horse between Mattie and the hotel door, placing her in the line of fire. He bared
his teeth, six-gun in one hand. He leaned down from the saddle and scooped the startled girl up into his lap, riding the horse once more out into the street.

  “Don’t try to follow Bannerman!” He pressed his gun against Mattie’s head. “I figured it was nearly over; hoped that we might pull it off yet! Damn that ’Frisco doctor sendin’ C.B. out here! Couple more months and Linc and me would’ve had enough and we’d have faded ... Now ... well, I’ll manage, I reckon.”

  They were helpless and Loomis knew it. He jerked his gun barrel, indicating that the Enforcers drop their weapons. They let their guns fall. The cowboys stayed well out of it. Then Loomis began to walk his mount across the front of the hotel towards a street entrance, clutching the squirming Mattie tight against him, gun menacing. His face hardened as he brought the barrel around and lined-up on Yancey.

  Then there was a single rifle shot and Loomis’ head snapped back on his neck, blood spurting from a neat hole in his right temple. Mattie screamed as his weight carried her to the ground and she scrambled away swiftly, but Loomis was dead before he hit the dirt.

  Yancey glanced up and saw C.B., chest bandages showing plainly, lowering a rifle. The older Bannerman lifted a hand in slow salute. Yancey touched a hand to his hat brim, dismounted and held Mattie. “Thanks, Pa,” he called.

  “I owed him that,” C.B. grated. “Barnett’s dead, you say?”

  Yancey nodded. “Bank robbers are holed-up in his house, got his wife and kids hostage. They only got away with five thousand he claims. Barnett lied about the forty-seven thousand to cover his embezzlement ... We’ve got to help Mrs. Barnett, Pa.”

  “How?”

  Yancey looked at Lang, the top hand. “Lang, you’re in line for managing Big-B now, and I need someone spunky enough to lead five horses into Barnett’s grounds ... How about it?”

  Lang smiled faintly. “That a condition of me bein’ made manager?”

  “Hell, no,” Yancey assured him. “Didn’t mean it that way.”

  “Then I’ll do it,” Lang said and turned to the men around him. “All right—five of you dismount and let me have your broncs ...”

  Yancey and Cato waited outside the rear wall of the Barnett estate, guns in hands. They had left their rifles behind and were using handguns. Yancey was counting silently and nodded to Cato, giving him the sign that by now Lang should be leading the five saddled horses through the front gate. At the same time, they heard Buckmann’s voice calling out.

  “Wolfe! Here you are. The broncs I promised. Saddlebags are full of grub.”

  “How about the money?” Milo Wolfe yelled.

  Yancey and Cato climbed onto the backs of their mounts, grabbed the edge of the adobe wall and pulled themselves onto the top. They lay there, guns cocked, looking first down into the deserted yard and then towards the rear of the big house. There was movement at a window and they tensed but they could see that the gunman had his back to them, listening to what Buckmann was saying about the money.

  “... the bank’s gettin’ it ready for you now. Ten thousand. You’ll have to pick it up on your way through town ...”

  Yancey and Cato dropped lightly into the yard, ran silently towards the house.

  “The hell with that!” bawled Wolfe. “We ain’t stoppin’ in town! You get that damn dinero out here or I’ll blow the boy’s head off.”

  Yancey slid up a window and, gun ready, stepped inside, followed swiftly by Cato.

  “I—I’ll see what I can do,” stalled Buckmann. “Might take a little time ...”

  Wolfe laughed harshly as Yancey and Cato mounted a carpeted stairway leading to the upper floor.

  “I got all the time in the world, Buckmann, ’cause I’m holdin’ all the aces!”

  “All right! I’ll send my man back now.”

  Yancey and Cato crept up onto the landing and froze as they heard Wolfe’s voice only feet away.

  “Leave them broncs right out in the open where we can see ’em and make sure they’re tethered so they don’t run off!” the bandit bawled.

  Cato used the twin barrels of his Manstopper to indicate a cream-painted door with gilt scroll work and Yancey nodded, agreeing that that was the room where Wolfe spoke from.

  Then they froze as there was a movement in the shadows to their left at the end of the passage. A bandit had come around the corner and stopped dead at sight of them. His mouth hung open but it snapped closed now as he brought up his gun.

  Yancey shot him through the middle of the face and at the same time Cato hurled himself at the ornate door. His weight jarred it open with a splintering crash and he went in crouching, the heavy Manstopper held in both hands, eyes raking around the room, seeing the three hostages tied up in a corner, and four armed men gathered around a big bay window.

  He thumbed the shot barrel toggle and dropped hammer. The Manstopper thundered and the women’s screams were drowned by the detonation. Milo Wolfe was picked up by the charge of buckshot and his body smashed through the glass and frame of the window, hurtling back across the narrow balcony and plummeting down into the yard to land near Barnett’s corpse. The Manstopper’s smoking barrels swung and Cato thumbed the toggle up to normal fire and the double action trigger worked swiftly, hammering out shot after shot.

  One bandit threw his gun so high it hit the ceiling and he fell without a sound, sliding down the wall, leaving a bloody smear. Another man lurched away, got off two shots into the floorboards and, gripping his side, tried to bring his Colt up again. Cato’s next shot hit him in the chest and passed clear through him, into the wall. The man fell to his knees, vomiting blood.

  Then Yancey’s big body came hurtling across the floor, skidding as he threw himself full length, gun angled up and blazing at the last bandit as the man ran for another door. The man jerked, his hand on the knob, and then crashed against the panels, sobbing, sliding slowly to a sitting position on the floor, gun falling from his hands.

  Yancey bounded to his feet and kicked the gun out of reach, twisted fingers in the man’s hair and yanked his head back.

  “He’ll live,” the big Enforcer said and saw that Cato was already untying the sobbing Mrs. Barnett. The daughter and son, shaking and pale, were otherwise unharmed. “I’ll go back to Mattie and pa, Johnny.”

  Cato nodded, smiling reassuringly at the teenage girl as he fumbled with her bonds. Yancey shook his head, smiling faintly, as he walked through the gunsmoke and out of the room ...

  In the hotel room, C.B. was sitting on the bed now, Mattie standing beside him. Doctor Boles was closing his bag.

  “Well, I reckon you’ll be well enough to make the trip back to ’Frisco in a few days, C.B.”

  “Sure I will be,” Curtis Bannerman growled. “Well enough now, damn it. And I’ll take care of the fools who thought they could buy me out and kill me off.”

  Mattie looked concerned as she glanced towards Yancey appealingly.

  “Be glad to lend a hand, Pa,” Yancey said quietly.

  C.B. snapped his head up. “The hell you will! This is my chore! I aim to do it myself. I’ve plenty of help I can call on back there.” Yancey’s mouth tightened at the old man’s tone and Mattie sighed. It looked like nothing at all had changed between them ...

  Then she gaped as C.B. suddenly stood up and extended his right hand towards Yancey.

  “Appreciate what you did for me,” the old man said gruffly. Yancey hesitated, then gripped with his father. He smiled faintly. “You saved my neck, Pa. That squares it away.”

  “More than squares it,” C.B. said sharply. “Man’s life’s worth more than money any day.” He glared at his son. “You’re in my debt—son.”

  Yancey’s smile widened. “Well—I can live with it, I guess.” Then C.B. smiled, too, and Mattie felt tears welling up in her eyes. It was the closest they had come to being friends again in years.

  About the Author

  Keith Hetherington

  aka Kirk Hamilton, Brett Waring and Hank J. Kirby

  Austr
alian 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

  Mad Dog Hallam

  Shadow Mesa

  Day of the Wolf

  Tejano

  The Guilty Guns

  The Toughest Man in Texas

  Manstopper

  The Guns That Never Were

  Tall Man’s Mission

  Day of the Lawless

  Gauntlet

  Vengeance Rides Tall

  Backtrack

  Barbary Guns

  The Bannerman Way

  Yesterday’s Guns

  Viking With a Gun

  Deathwatch

  Rio Renegade

  Bullet for Bannerman

  Trail to Purgatory

  The Lash

  Gun Mission

  Hellfire

  Seven Guns to Moonlight

  The 12:10 from San Antone

  Only the Swift

  Die for Texas

  Dealer in Death