“Marshal, I do not believe we have ever had the pleasure,” Moon said, descending the stairs of his porch and reaching out his hand to Merritt. Merritt removed his riding glove, shaking his hand. Moon had a strong grip that lingered just long enough to tell Merritt that Moon thought he was in charge of the situation.
“Mr. Moon, the Beckers are dead. We have evidence that the Orlin James Gang might be responsible, and we followed their trail onto your land,” said Merritt. He wanted to approach the situation delicately, if his suspicions about Moon’s involvement were true.
“I can assure you, Marshal, that we keep a tight ship around here. If any of the James Gang comes on my land, we shoot first.”
“I don’t doubt that, Mr. Moon. The thing is, their trail leads right up to your home place,” Merritt said, noting the carefully, but not entirely successfully, restrained twitch of Moon’s eyebrows.
“Well, Marshal, I do not see how that’s possible, but since you’re here, why don’t you come on in for some tea and something to eat and we can talk about it further.”
“That won’t be necessary,” said Merritt, “but we’d like to look around a little. I’d especially like to take a look in your bunkhouse.”
“I don’t suppose you’ve come with a warrant?”
“No sir, we are fresh on the trail of this investigation and haven’t seen Judge Cairns about a warrant. We’re still collecting evidence from the scene. However, since that trail leads on your land I have no doubt I can get a warrant. If you want, I’ll be back later today to present you with one.” Merritt was fairly sure that what he said was true. There would be enough circumstantial evidence, since the trail led directly to the home place, to get a warrant to search the area. Though he wasn’t confident that the warrant would allow him to search inside any of the buildings.
“In the interest of civility and good relations, Marshal, that won’t be necessary. You and your people may search the bunkhouse, and a few of my men will accompany you.”
“Much obliged,” said Sam.
Without another word, Moon abruptly turned on his heel and climbed the stairs to his porch. He gave no further acknowledgment as he shut the door.
Three of Moon’s men escorted Merritt and his deputies to the bunkhouse. It was a well-constructed two-story building, open on both floors like military barracks. Moon employed a lot of cowboys. They would have shifts with different days and times out tending cattle, taking turns sleeping in the bunks. Most of the bunks were currently unoccupied.
Merritt and his deputies searched through the lockers that were at the foot of each bed. Their escorts grumbled.
Eventually, Kerin opened the locker of one bunk, its occupant still there, feet sticking out from under a rough brown blanket. He wore dirty socks with holes in them.
Sitting up, he threw his blanket off. “Just a goddamn minute, who the hell said you could go through my locker?”
Merritt stepped forward, drawing his gun and pointing it at the man. Kerin pulled out a purple sash, then dirty boots. Flipping the right one over to get a look at the heel, she shot a glance to Merritt and nodded. “Six notches now, but the same boot.”
“You’re under arrest under suspicion of murder,” said Merritt. The sonofabitch even pretended to be in the James Gang.
Their three escorts reached for their guns. Merritt dropped to a knee and swiveled, firing into one man’s stomach with his blaster pistol. It burned a hole in his chest, throwing him back against the wall. The other two drew their weapons, as Sam drew his pistol and Kerin leveled her rifle at them. The man on the bunk leapt onto Kerin’s back, pinning her arms against her sides and making her drop her rifle. One of the men fired at Sam, the blaster bolt hitting his thigh. Sam yelled, firing his pistol as he fell to the floor. He squeezed off three shots, two bursting into the wall behind his target, but the last burnt the man’s gun-wielding hand to a cinder. His gun fell to the floor, and he screamed, clutching at the useless stump.
Merritt knocked the last man’s hand away just before he squeezed off a shot. The blast went wide, catching a bunk on fire. Merritt brought his foot up as hard as he could manage, the toe of his leather boot catching the man in the groin. The man let out a long, low moan, falling to his knees and dropping his weapon. He grasped at his testicles as if they were going to roll away. Merritt brought the handle of his pistol down on the man’s head, sending him sprawling to the floor. He didn’t move.
Kerin still struggled with the man at her back. She managed to lift her arms against the bear hug of the killer behind her. Kerin successfully shrugged him off, and Merritt was reminded how strong even the women of her race were. She turned in a blur, shoving the man back on his bed. He fell, cracking his head on the headboard. Kerin dropped low, grabbing her rifle and training it on him in a split second.
“I’d advise you to surrender,” said Kerin.
Merritt handcuffed the unconscious man with the crushed testicles and then helped Sam to his feet. Merritt took Sam’s cuffs, securing the man with the stump hand. Kerin handcuffed the killer with the notched boot, then went to Sam and looked at his thigh.
“Lucky for you it is only a flesh wound,” she said.
Between clenched teeth Sam said, “Only? It damn well hurts!”
Merritt only now noticed that the fire from the blaster bolt was spreading. Several beds had now caught, and this place would go up like a plains fire. “We’d better get the hell out of here. The fire is spreading fast, and more of Moon’s men will be along soon.”
Kerin carried the unconscious man over her shoulder. Sam limped out, and Merritt led stumpy and notch-boot out of the bunkhouse. Once outside, Kerin tied the unconscious man to her horse. Merritt tied the other two up and set them on Sam’s horse, then Merritt helped Sam up to share his.
Flames burst out of one of the windows of the bunkhouse as they spurred their horses on. Moon and several of his men poured out onto his porch, shouting. Merritt couldn’t hear what Moon was saying, but they didn’t chase after them. They looked like they were grabbing buckets. That fire probably saved their bacon. They rode hard toward Hangman’s Drop.
Chapter 8
Terrence Shaw hiked to his gardens. He had a small-caliber slug-throwing rifle slung over his shoulder, on a mission to shoot the large Voltan varmints that had been ravaging his vegetables. The animals weighed as much as 15 pounds, and it was said that they tasted something like Earth pork. If Shaw could bag a few he’d bring them back to the house for butchering, not minding the taste of them at all. They were good eating. But they were bastards that destroyed crops.
He found a perch on a large rock a short distance from the garden. He surveyed the area, seeing a big fat varmint digging around some of engineered tomatoes. He brought his rifle up, zeroing in on his target. Taking a deep breath, he exhaled slowly as he pulled the trigger. The creature went down. Shaw jumped off the rock, casually striding to the carcass. This was a bigger one. They’d have meat for a few days off of this. He gutted it there, and then wiped the blood off his hands with rags he had brought. He slung the carcass up over a tree branch to hang a while so he could go for a walk.
He wasn’t sure about his destination. This business with Merritt needed to be settled. Shaw was a respected cattleman in the area, and he couldn’t have Merritt running his mouth at the saloon every time he was half-cocked on whiskey and got a temper up. He had his reputation to protect, especially if he ever ran for public office. Shaw had his sights on bigger things than running some cattle on Volta.
Problem was Shaw wasn’t so sure he could take Merritt in a gunfight. In fact, he was pretty damn sure he couldn’t. Merritt just wouldn’t leave things alone. When Susan came to him, she was a broken woman. Maybe it wasn’t Merritt’s fault, maybe it was. In any case, they were respectfully divorced before he had anything serious to do with her. Merritt was a stubborn, bitter man as far as Shaw was concerned, and he showed no sign of letting this go. Shaw could only see one way out now, and that
was to finally kill the sonofabitch.
Shaw stopped, noticing that the sun was setting. He sighed. Maybe it was worth one more try to talk to Merritt. To try to put this issue to bed in a civilized way. Merritt had brought a lot of order to the area, and a businessman like himself made more money with Merritt around to enforce the laws. If, by some chance, he did manage to kill Merritt, God only knew what kind of lawman would take his place.
Shaw continued walking, and without meaning to, he found himself in the Shaw family burial plot. He walked to Susan’s grave. At first he was confused, sure that he came to the right grave, but something was out of place. Looking closer, he saw that Susan’s gravestone was gone. No, not gone. He moved to the grave and knelt down, seeing that it was shattered to pieces.
“That lowdown piece of shit,” Shaw said in a low, harsh tone.
It was only with reluctance that he let Merritt see Susan’s grave. Never had he imagined he would desecrate it. He hadn’t realized Merritt was such a dog. Shaw futilely pieced Susan’s gravestone together like a jigsaw puzzle. His hands shook as he put together the last piece he could find. Then he started back for the house at a jog. That settled it right there. There would be no peace with that sonofabitch. He would kill Merritt. He would kill Merritt tonight.
Chapter 9
“Come on, Marshal. I’ve been a good boy. When ya gonna let me out of here?” asked Orlin.
“Shut the fuck up, I’m thinking,” said Merritt. “Anyway, I’ve got you on trespassing and attempted murder for firing on law enforcement.”
Orlin sat down heavily on his cot, letting out a sigh. Merritt leaned back in his chair and put his heels up on his desk, eyes resting on Orlin’s cell but not really seeing.
“It’s obvious why Moon wants the Becker ranch. The extra land and water would be a big asset to his cattle operation, but why is he so blatant?” asked Merritt.
“Why? Why not? Moon is ambitious, and he is a bully,” said Kerin.
The door to their office opened, and Sam hobbled through on two legs. His right leg was bandaged where the blaster had struck him.
“The Doc fix you all up?” said Kerin.
“Yeah, he used his high-tech scanners, sprayers, and whatever the hell else. The wound is closed, and I’m sore as hell, but it’s healing.”
“Good. We haven’t seen this whole Moon affair play out,” said Merritt.
There was a loud tap, tap, tap, tap from outside, the sound of something striking metal. Merritt let his heels hit the floor and stood, pushing his chair backward. It rolled lazily, hitting the wall. Merritt opened the door, stepping out onto the porch. A man stood there, inspecting his job. He had apparently nailed a flyer up on the rail of the porch.
“What the hell are you up to?” asked Merritt.
“Good ‘ay, Marshal. Just posting a notice, as required by law, of an auction coming up tomorrow.” The man tipped his hat and left the porch, holding a bundle of notices. He was apparently going off to put them up throughout town. Merritt strode over to the notice, looking closely.
“Goddamnit,” he said.
“What’s the matter, boss?” asked Sam, walking out onto the porch, wincing as he favored his leg.
“That sonofabitch Moon didn’t waste any time. The Becker place is up for auction tomorrow.”
“Already? Doesn’t that process take a long time?” said Sam.
“A man like Moon has the money to get things done in a hurry.”
Kerin came out onto the porch, having been listening at the doorway. “It takes time for paperwork like that to go through. This has been in the works for a while, but the Beckers were just killed yesterday. This is a lot bigger than Moon.”
“I’ll go see the Judge today. Get to the bottom of this. There’s a conspiracy here, and goddamnit I’m the law. We won’t let this stand.” Merritt tightened his fists, and rested them on the handles of his revolvers.
A synthetic horse with a haggard-looking rider galloped at high speed toward the Marshal’s office. It stopped abruptly, nearly throwing its rider forward onto the porch. The rider practically fell off of his horse as he dismounted. He stumbled up the stairs to the porch, and Kerin rushed forward to grab his arm and steady him.
“Much obliged,” he said, nodding to Kerin. “Marshal, I need your help. I’m Bill Bessie. Me and two business partners spent the last several weeks rounding up wild cattle. They’re about a day out of Hangman’s Drop, but somebody’s been trailing us for a few days. I’m worried about rustlers.”
Merritt was annoyed. “And what the hell do you want us to do about potential rustlers?”
Bessie raised his eyebrows and stumbled back. Kerin steadied him again. Merritt tingled all over, wanting to get to the bottom of the Moon affair and felt irritated by this new situation. He had so many other things to worry about. Still, he couldn’t ignore a plea for help. He forced his impatience down.
“My apologies, Mr. Bessie. We’ve had a lot of things keeping us busy the last couple of days,” said Merritt.
It was his job, after all, to look into these kinds of issues. It was just that this Moon business had gotten under his skin. Still, he had things to attend to. See the Judge for one thing, and figure out how to deal with this auction coming up.
“Alright. Sam, Kerin, you two go with Bessie and look into whether there’s anybody with designs on his cattle. I’ll take care of things in town. Come back tomorrow after you escort Bessie and the herd to Hangman’s Drop. We’ll reconvene and see if we can get some things settled.”
Sam and Kerin both grunted in agreement. They gathered their supplies in the Marshal’s office. Kerin helped Bessie back onto his horse, before Sam and Kerin mounted their own. Merritt watched the three of them gallop down Main Street. He pulled a cigar from his front pocket and put it in his mouth, striking a match. Now to talk to the Judge.
Chapter 10
Merritt slowed his horse to a trot. He looked at the large posh houses in this rich district of Hangman’s Drop. The people who lived here showed a disparity of wealth compared to most folks. It was sickening. A majority of Hangman’s Drop scraped to get by, and many people lived in shacks or tents. The people here were rich beyond the dreams of most of the town’s inhabitants. The neighborhood was occupied by rich executives in the Baak Corporation, which oversaw the majority of the industrialized mining industry that Hangman’s Drop depended on. There were well-to-do business owners and big shots who owned saloons or small prostitution rings. Judge Cairns’ home was nestled in with the richest of them, and as Merritt rode up to his porch he was thinking about how a man on a Judge’s salary shouldn’t be able to afford such a house. That alone said something about the Judge’s character.
Merritt tied his horse to the hitching post, clomped up the stairs of the porch, and knocked on the door. A few moments later, the doors opened slowly. A male garan greeted him, dressed absurdly in formal butler attire. His apelike face and broad, tall frame was as out of place here as a whore at Sunday dinner.
“What can I do for you?” asked the servant.
“I’m here to see Judge Cairns.”
“That is not possible, the Judge is occupied.” He stepped halfway through the threshold of the door, emphasizing without words that Merritt wouldn’t get an audience.
Shit. Merritt didn’t want to have to get in a tussle with this guy. The natives were strong as hell, but on the other hand, he didn’t think he’d get anywhere without things getting rough.
“Well, that’s a shame. Can I pass on a message?”
The servant nodded, baring his teeth.
“Aww, never mind. I’ll try to reach him another time.” Merritt turned slightly as if to leave, but with speed well-practiced from his time in the military, he brought a right hook in without telegraphing his move. It struck the large face, and Merritt felt bone break beneath his fist. The servant fell backward, sprawling on the floor. He didn’t move at first, and Merritt was relieved at how easy that was.
But
then the garan got up.
His cheekbone was obviously broken, smashed in, but nonetheless the servant dove at Merritt. He hit Merritt at the waist, bringing him to the floor with a force that took the wind from him. The garan scrambled to his knees, straddling Merritt, and brought a fist down on Merritt’s face. Merritt’s vision went dark for a moment, and his head felt like it might shatter into pieces. Native males were about 150% stronger than a human.
The garan brought down his fist again, and Merritt was barely able to bring up an arm to block it. His attacker’s fist grazed his face, slamming into the floor and smashing Merritt’s ear in the process. Pinned down, Merritt knew he wasn’t going to be able to muscle his way out of this. He’d have to escalate things. The servant brought down his fist again, and Merritt was able to block it, pulling his knife from his belt with the other hand. The garan reached down, grabbing Merritt’s hand and pinning it to the floor so that Merritt couldn’t use the knife. While he was busy with that, Merritt brought his left fist up into the servant’s chin. He knew it wouldn’t hurt him much, but he turned his face in the opposite direction in reaction, which was what Merritt was hoping for. He swung his hand backward, cracking his knuckles into the garan’s left cheek, which was already crushed from Merritt’s earlier blow. He screamed out, his grip loosening enough on Merritt’s right hand to bring the knife up, stabbing the man in the side between the ribs. The blade sunk deep, and the garan gasped. Merritt had punctured his lung. The fight went out of him, and Merritt was able to shove him off as blood sputtered from his mouth. Merritt wiped his blade off on the absurd butler’s fancy coat. Then he walked into the house, entering a reception hall. He spotted a com on the wall. Walking over to it, he punched in the number for the Doc.
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