“Wait a minute, the Orlin James Gang? Those bastards have been rustling my cattle off and on for years. Where on my land?”
“Vulture’s Bluff,” said Merritt.
“We came here to get permission to come on your land to find them. We want to question them about a murder,” said Kerin.
“If the Orlin James Gang is hiding out on my land, then I’ve got business with them too. You have my permission, but only if I go along,” said Shaw.
Merritt looked at Kerin and Sam. Sam nodded. Kerin looked as stoic as ever.
“Alright, you come along. But I have a request as well.”
“What’s that?”
“I want to see her. Alone.”
Chapter 4
Merritt inhaled until his lungs stretched and burned.
He exhaled slowly, looking down. The tombstone read, Susan Shaw, mother and beloved wife.
She died in childbirth to give that cur Shaw a son.
Merritt and Susan had a daughter, but she was stillborn. Susan was never the same after that. Merritt was angry, throwing himself into his work with a fierce brutality that earned him fear and respect in the town but only alienated Susan. A few years later, she started running around with Shaw. Shaw was a wealthy rancher and could offer more than Merritt ever could with his modest lawman’s salary.
Shaw gave her sweet words on a serpent’s tongue.
When Susan died, the feud between Merritt and Shaw escalated. Shaw accused Merritt of being an inattentive husband, and Merritt thought Shaw was a lowdown wife stealer, taking advantage of his damaged marriage to swoop in and steal Susan. There weren’t many women in Hangman’s Drop that weren’t natives or prostitutes, and Merritt felt that Shaw took Susan just because she was there and vulnerable. Merritt and Shaw’s barbed remarks to one another had finally reached an apex. One of them would have to die.
Merritt kneeled down and traced Susan’s name with his finger. His business with her would never be finished. His apologies wouldn’t stir her dead heart, and his hope of her begging his forgiveness for leaving couldn’t be realized. All he had left was his anger and the wrong that had been done to him by Shaw. He kicked the headstone, knocking it over. It made a dull thud as it collided with the ground. Immediately feeling remorse, Merritt lifted the stone back up into position.
“Goodbye, Susan. I won’t be back to see you. But God willing, I’ll put your husband next to you.”
Merritt leapt onto his horse and dug his spurs into its sides. He turned the horse, and spontaneously, without even a parting thought, swatted its hindquarter. It lashed out with a leg, smashing Susan’s tombstone into pieces. Merritt resolved himself to get this Orlin James affair wrapped up so that he could deal with Shaw and get retribution.
Chapter 5
They left at sunup. Their synthetic horses moved across the treacherous landscape far more efficiently than a real horse or a land vehicle could. Volta was a god-awful place to farm and keep livestock, and the only reason anyone tried was because of the abundant rare minerals. Hangman’s Drop and the surrounding area owed its existence to the mining operation.
After a few hours they approached Vulture’s Bluff. Kerin slowed her horse, waving for the others to do the same. Merritt pulled on his reins. Kerin jumped off her horse, inspecting the ground. Merritt also dismounted, walking up to her.
“What is it, Kerin?”
She didn’t answer at first, kneeling down and letting her hand hover above the ground. Her hand made subtle movements, tracing something only she could see. Merritt had witnessed this before, her way of concentrating on whatever trail she was looking at. She stood up and faced Merritt, her high cheekbones exaggerated in the light of early day. Merritt noted not for the first time that she was beautiful, in the way of the native garan women. It was shocking how the women looked so human and beautiful by human standards, but the men were so hideous.
“Two riders passed through here yesterday. They are on synthetic horses and were heading in the direction of the bluff,” Kerin said.
“Alright then, we better move cautiously from this point forward. We’ll take to foot so Kerin can keep on the trail.”
Sam and Shaw dismounted, leading their horses by the reins toward the bluff.
“Where are the caves located?” asked Merritt.
“We’ll need to veer northeast. There’s a series of caves in that direction,” said Shaw.
As they progressed in the direction of the caves, Kerin stopped a number of times to note the passage of the riders. Apparently, there had been a lot of traffic within the last week. Soon they reached an embankment with a cave mouth in the side of it.
“All the tracks head in that direction, Marshal,” said Kerin.
Merritt nodded. “We’ll leave the horses tied up here.”
They tried to stick to cover, creeping behind boulders, scrub trees, and rubble piles. Sam removed binoculars from his pack, looking toward the cave. “I see something by the mouth of the cave, looks like somebody lying down.”
They continued on, stepping lightly to avoid making noise. Soon Merritt could make out a sentry propped up against a rock, arms folded, hat low over his face. Merritt figured he was asleep. There wasn’t much action out here, and they probably wouldn’t be expecting anyone.
“So those bastards really are trespassing.” It wasn’t a question from Shaw. Shaw suddenly raised his gun and took aim. Merritt reached out, too late, to grab Shaw. A blast erupted from Shaw’s rifle. It struck true, knocking the sentry’s hat off as cooked brain splattered across the rock face. The body writhed and twitched.
“Goddamnit Shaw, why the hell did you do that?” Merritt said. “You just ruined any chance for the element of surprise.”
Shaw jumped up, sprinting toward the cave mouth.
“Goddamnit,” said Merritt, standing up and motioning for the others to follow. Merritt veered off to the right to approach the cave mouth with some cover from the side of the embankment, while Shaw went in half-cocked.
Blaster fire peppered the air, and it was a miracle none of the bolts struck Shaw as he barreled toward the cave mouth. He let loose with his blaster rifle as fast as he could pull the trigger. The revolving chamber whirred. Merritt closed in, following Shaw as he dove into the cave. Merritt entered the cave and was abruptly enveloped in darkness. He dropped to his stomach, moving toward the side of the cave. He felt somebody bump into him, and he assumed it was either Kerin or Sam. Shaw’s loud movement up ahead came to an end, and it was silent as a graveyard.
Merritt waited a minute and said, “You done?”
“For now.”
Blaster fire illuminated the cave, coming from somewhere deeper.
Ducking, Merritt said, “I’ll lay down cover fire. Sam, you and Kerin work your way deeper along the side of the cave.”
Merritt stood and opened fire, as Sam and Kerin moved quickly down the cave. Merritt heard yelling from Sam and Kerin’s position but couldn’t make it out over the blaster fire, so he let up on the trigger.
“The cave turns and doubles back,” yelled Kerin. “They have left the cave.”
“Shit,” said Merritt.
Merritt worked his way to Sam and Kerin’s position, followed by Shaw. The cave turned sharply to the left and veered back to the face of the embankment. Merritt could see light coming from that direction. They were lucky the gang hadn’t doubled back and caught them in a crossfire. They must have been in a hurry to leave the scene. Merritt and the others rushed from the cave, Kerin picking up their trail outside. They retrieved their horses and followed Kerin.
“There are four of them,” said Kerin. She urged her horse on at a fast clip, able to track the fresh signs easily. They moved away from the brushy bluff, coming to the edge of a narrow canyon. Ahead and below, they saw four people on horseback tentatively working their way down the side of the canyon. If they made it to the bottom, they would have a lot of cover from rock debris. Merritt didn’t want to get into a protracted firef
ight, so he took aim at the lead horseman and fired his rifle. The blast narrowly missed the rider but hit the synthetic horse in the head. It went down, pinning the legs of the rider below it. A scream echoed throughout the canyon. Merritt grinned. Shaw, Sam, and Kerin opened fire.
Merritt thought he could identify Orlin. “Don’t shoot that second rider,” said Merritt. “I think that’s Orlin. We need him alive.”
Orlin and his men dismounted, trying to take cover behind their horses. The path was too narrow, and they slipped on the rocks, sliding partway down the steep canyon wall. Merritt took aim and blasted the left arm clean off of one of the men. The man he thought was Orlin waved wildly, throwing his rifle.
“We surrender!”
Merritt held up his hand. “Deputies, cease fire. Shaw, you better keep yourself under control. I need Orlin alive.”
Shaw nodded, biting his lip.
“You boys climb on up here. If you try to escape on foot, we’ll open your insides for the buzzards to pick at,” said Merritt.
Orlin stood shakily, cupping his hands to his mouth as he yelled, “The man pinned under his horse is my nephew, Marshal, please don’t leave him here to die!”
Fuck. Merritt needed Orlin to be somewhat cooperative if he would get anything out of him. That probably meant saving his good-for-nothing nephew.
They waited for Orlin and his other man to scramble to the top of the canyon. Orlin dropped to his knees, and his man did the same thing. Orlin James was half-garan. His mother was a prostitute, his father a native garan. Orlin had the large frame, big jaw, and apelike face of the native males.
Merritt dismounted. He pulled handcuffs from his belt, cuffing Orlin’s hands behind his back. Kerin did the same with the other man. Sam stood in front of the two, holding his rifle ready in case they tried anything.
“We were doing no harm.” Orlin looked to Shaw, “I know we was trespassing, but we ain’t rustled any of your cattle. Why are you being so heavy-handed?”
“You dumb sonofabitch,” said Merritt, “This ain’t about trespassing. Tell me about the Becker place.”
Orlin’s eyes scrunched together. “The Becker place? We haven’t been ‘round those parts for weeks. Last we was there, we refilled on supplies.”
“Refilled supplies? You mean you robbed the Becker’s?” said Merritt.
“No, we was friends with the Beckers. We stopped there sometimes for a meal, water.”
Kerin squatted down and looked Orlin in the face carefully, studying him. She stood and turned to Merritt. “I hate to say it, Marshal, but I think he is telling the truth.”
Merritt strapped his rifle to his horse and crossed his arms. If these jackasses weren’t responsible for the Becker place, then who was? Mrs. Becker held a purple sash in her dead hands. The same sash these two fuckheads were wearing.
“We’re taking both of you into custody. Kerin, Sam, we’ll take them to Hangman’s Drop and lock them up. Then we better get out to the Becker place to look around.”
“If you had not been in such a fury at the time, I would have recommended that be our first stop from the beginning,” said Kerin.
Merritt was in no mood for an “I told you so”.
Another scream echoed up from the canyon, apparently reminding Orlin of his nephew’s plight. “Come on, Marshal, you promised to help my nephew.”
Merritt was tempted to tell him to fuck off and let the cur die pinned under his horse. He looked down the canyon at the treacherous footing. Kerin was the best bet. She was strong and good on her feet. But what if she got hurt? She’d have to nearly carry that bastard up, and even though she had the garan strength to do it, the poor footing was just too much of a risk.
“No. I won’t risk one of my deputies to bring your piece of shit nephew up here. He’ll have to take his chances with the buzzards.”
Orlin’s face turned red and he tried to stand, but Sam hit him on the back of the head with his rifle butt. Orlin went down in a heap. They lifted him, slinging him over a horse and tying him up. They did the same to the other man.
“Alright Marshal, you got your man. Now get the fuck off my land,” said Shaw, jumping on his horse. He snorted and spit on the ground before riding away at a gallop.
Chapter 6
Merritt and his deputies deposited Orlin and his man in cells at the Marshal’s office and then continued to the Becker ranch.
Nothing about this situation sat well with Merritt. It wasn’t that the Orlin James Gang wasn’t capable of senseless murder, but usually it was due to some drunken argument. Another thing that troubled Merritt was the fact that Orlin claimed to be on good terms with the Beckers. That didn’t surprise him that much. There were rumors that Mr. Beckett had been involved in cattle rustling and had stolen cattle from some of the cattleman with smaller operations. But it was never proven. Maybe the Orlin James Gang was tied into that somehow. But if the Orlin James Gang wasn’t responsible for the murders, then who was?
As they crossed onto Becker property, Merritt noticed that the barbed wire fences were down.
“Over here,” said Merritt.
They stopped. Merritt climbed down from his horse and walked to a fence post. He traced the barbed wire along the ground until he found where it ended. Picking up the wire, he inspected it carefully, noting that the wires had been cleanly cut. He stood up, grunting.
“Obviously someone has been here before us. Maybe the same people who killed the Beckers?” wondered Sam.
“Hard to say. The people who killed the Beckers may have stolen their cattle as well,” said Kerin.
Merritt climbed back onto his horse, and they continued on. Shortly, they reached the Becker home and some farm buildings. They dismounted near the house, and Kerin inspected the ground, walking around the house and the outbuildings.
“A scuffle happened near the house, at least five men, each with a synthetic horse,” Kerin said, “Mr. Becker was killed near the barn, and it looks like Mrs. Becker was half-dragged by her older boy to get into the wagon before they left. The culprits left the farm to the west.”
Merritt looked at Kerin appreciatively. Her skill made his job so much easier. “Anything else?”
“One thing,” she said, “one of the murderers had five notches cut in the side of the heel on the right boot.”
“I’ve seen that sort of thing before,” said Merritt. “Some of these outlaws like to notch their boot for every man they’ve killed.
“What’s that over yonder?” asked Sam.
Merritt looked in the direction Sam pointed. Several cattle were milling about, scavenging scrub brush. “Well, if the cattle are still here, then rustling wasn’t the motive.”
“I want to get a look at those cattle,” said Kerin.
They mounted up and headed off to the cattle. When they entered the herd, Kerin pointed and said, “The brand.”
It was a Flying M. For a moment, Merritt didn’t register the significance of that.
“That is Charles Moon’s brand,” said Kerin.
Of course. Merritt had known that in passing, from various cattle disputes that had occurred over the years. But why were his cattle ranging on Becker land?
“They must have come through the cut fences,” said Sam.
“That must be. But where are Becker’s cattle?” said Merritt.
Merritt surveyed the landscape, thinking. It was possible that someone stole the Becker cattle, and then Charles Moon’s cattle wandered in. Their lands bordered one another’s. Merritt’s eyes fell on a large body of water in the distance. An inkling came to him. That body of water was one of the few sources of abundant clean water in the area. The Becker land was particularly valuable because of its presence.
“Let’s pick up the trail of the culprits and see where it goes,” said Merritt.
Chapter 7
They followed the trail leading west. Crossing over into Charles Moon’s property, Merritt noted that that the barbed wire fence bordering the Becker and Moon r
anches had been cut down. Merritt was beginning to have his suspicions about the situation. The land was valuable, especially with that water source. It would be a major advantage for Moon to take over the Becker ranch and fold it into his cattle operation.
The trail led straight to the Moon home place. As they approached, a group of riders came out to meet them, rifles drawn.
“Who the hell are you, and why are you trespassing?” asked the lead rider.
“I’m Marshal John Merritt, and these are my deputies. We’re investigating the murder of the Beckers.”
“That still doesn’t explain why you’re trespassing.”
“We followed the trail of the culprits in this direction,” said Merritt. He thought it better than to say precisely that the trail led here.
“No one around here has anything to do with those Beckers,” said the man.
Merritt shifted in his stirrup. “I want to see Charles Moon.”
The man fidgeted on his horse, finally spitting tobacco to his side. “Alright, then follow us.”
They rode to Moon’s house. It was an elaborate, mansion-like home that reflected the vast wealth Charles Moon had acquired. He had the largest cattle operation on Volta. As the most important cattle baron, he provided the majority of the meat to the Baak Corporation, to feed the mine workers. He even exported to some other frontier colonies. He was a powerful man.
They stopped at the porch, and Merritt and his deputies dismounted, tying their horses to a hitching post.
“Hold on there,” said the man who had led them, “give up your weapons.”
Merritt gritted his teeth. He wanted to smash this man’s face on one hand, but on the other he knew that without a warrant he didn’t have much power here. Reluctantly, he took off his sidearms and put them in his saddlebags. Kerin and Sam did the same.
“Wait here, I’ll see if Moon has time for you,” said the man.
They waited for a few minutes before the door to the house opened, and a distinguished older gentleman stepped out. He was dressed in the finest attire of the style common in the central colonies. It was as if he had been directly transplanted from those higher society people, and he was a cut above this rugged place.
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