Clay Nash 4

by Brett Waring

  “Yeah, but Dundee, last I heard of him, was in the San Angelo pen,” Forrester said. “Looks like he busted out, but ridin’ up to a law office, even to collect a bounty, don’t sound like him ...”

  Lester shrugged. “Well, I dunno why he done it, but he done it, all right. And now he's locked up.”

  Forrester was puzzled but he nodded very slowly. “Yeah, well it’s loco, but I guess there’s some reason. Likely Dundee’ll tell us when we see him.” He grinned wickedly. “I want Dundee out of that cell and brought here to join up with us! If I know Matt he’ll do it without even thinkin’ about it. You just mention my name to him, Trina.”

  “Me?” The girl stared at him, moist lips parted. “Zachary?” she breathed.

  He smiled, tightened his grip on her hand. “Sure, honey, you’re the one I’m sendin’ in. Want you to get word to Dundee that we’ll bust him out if he’ll come and join us. Tell him it’s his old cellmate from Yuma, Zack Forrester.”

  “You know this man Dundee?” the girl asked, still looking bewildered.

  “Sure do. We shared a cell for close on two years in Yuma. Long time back now, but Matt’ll remember. Will you do it for me?”

  She stared down at him for a long minute then smiled faintly, shrugging her shoulders so that the blouse moved tantalizingly. Her smile broadened when Zack Forrester sucked in his breath sharply.

  “Si, I will do it.” She leaned down and ran a fingertip along his jawline, feeling him shudder a little. “But you will have to be very—kind to Trina when I return. And when you return from your next train robbery. Agreed, Zachary?”

  He looked at her with narrowed eyes.

  “I get it. You want enough gold to go back to Mexico, huh? To that hot-blooded lover of yours the Mex government wants to put up against a wall and shoot!”

  The girl flashed her teeth at him in a smile. “Si, that is what I want. It is agreed?”

  Forrester glanced at Lester and Magee. Their faces were hard. They did not like being held to ransom by a Mexican peasant girl.

  “Sure, honey. It’s a deal,’’ Forrester said, and when she threw her arms around his neck to hug and kiss him, he looked over her blue-black hair and winked ponderously at the others.

  ~*~

  Ellen Bray came into the cell passage and closed the door leading to the front office quietly behind her. In the cell, Nash stirred a little where he was stretched out on the bunk, disturbed not so much by the soft sounds of the girl’s entrance as by the light that washed briefly through the cell before being cut off again as the girl closed the door in the passage outside. He frowned and sat up slowly as she approached, not yet seeing her from this angle, but knowing it wasn’t Burns. The footsteps were too light for that. When he saw the girl, he almost fell off the bunk in surprise.

  The girl stopped in front of the cell door but a few feet away from it.

  “Mr. Nash,” she called softly. “I’m Ellen Bray.”

  Nash got up and walked to the cell door. He nodded slowly. “I guess you must be Sheriff Luke Bray’s niece. And I guess you know Brad Burns or you wouldn’t know my real name.”

  “Yes, that’s right, both times. Brad is—is lodging at my house. It was all arranged before—before my uncle was shot by the Forresters.”

  Nash showed interest in this, wanting details of the shoot-out. The girl told him what had happened in the saloon and how, because of Burns’ speed with a gun, the town had elected him sheriff.

  She said hesitantly, “He—he could make a good lawman, Mr. Nash. I wouldn’t want you to think that he’s always ... well, what he’s done to you, he’s done because he feels so strongly about that mistake you made with him up in ... Wyoming, wasn’t it?”

  “Montana, ma’am. Hell, that was months ago, and I nearly got my head blown off, working to clear his name. Sure, he took my side against a couple of outlaws, but I made a genuine mistake and tried all I could to make it up to him. Wells Fargo even paid him a bounty, on my say-so, that he really didn’t earn. All right, so he’s still riled against me. But he doesn’t seem to realize that he could blow my cover and ruin this assignment I’m on. What’s more, there’s no way he’ll be able to convince the Rangers or Wells Fargo that he’s made a genuine mistake here. He could get himself into a lot of serious trouble by impeding this investigation.”

  ‘‘I don’t think you need point that out, Mr. Nash,” Ellen said, a trifle shortly. ‘‘I know it and I’m sure Brad is aware of it, too. But it doesn’t bother him. He’ll take any chance to get his revenge on you for what you did to him.”

  “Well, I guess that’s somethin’ you don’t need to point out, ma’am,” Nash said tightly.

  “No. I suppose not.”

  There was a silence for a while and then Nash asked: “Just why did you come here, Miss Bray?”

  “I—I thought I could help straighten things out between you and Brad.” She added: “I did have another reason for coming to town. I’m arranging a little trip by train to Rimrock Canyon—an outing for the children at my school …” Her voice trailed away.

  He looked straight into her blue eyes and held her level gaze for a long time. Then he made his decision. “Well, ma’am, if you want to help me and at the same time keep Burns from getting himself in any deeper, we might make a deal. Got such a thing as a vesta on you?”

  She looked surprised. “A vesta? Why, yes I have.” She opened her purse. “I keep some for lighting the classroom lamps. Never leave them in my desk in case the children get hold of them. Here, keep the tin.”

  Nash smiled wryly as he took the tin, fumbled out a crumpled cigarette he had made long since and took out a vesta. He struck it and fired up, inhaling deeply, savoring the smoke that filled his lungs. He blew it out in a long, slow, blue-gray plume.

  “Ma’am, you just saved my life! Much obliged,” he said with a wry grin. Ellen smiled faintly and then Nash, after another lungful of smoke, said, “I’m gonna have to trust you, Miss Bray ... with Ranger and Wells Fargo business ... but if I don’t give you all the details, you won’t know just how serious this thing is.”

  “You can trust me, Mr. Nash,” she said sincerely. “I give you my word I won’t repeat anything you tell me, except perhaps to Brad in any argument I might use to try to make him change his mind about what he’s doing to you ...”

  “Well, you sure got my blessing to do that,” Nash told her with feeling. Then, he told her about the assignment and why it was so important that he retain his fake identity as Matt Dundee. The girl listened with serious face, nodding from time to time.

  He had reached the part where Chuka Cox drygulched him at the river, when the door at the end of the passage opened. Both Nash and Ellen turned, surprised to see Brad Burns coming in, followed by a Mexican girl in embroidered peasant blouse, red sash, dark green skirt and grass sandals on her feet. She flashed Nash a wide smile.

  “Ah, Matt! Buenos dias! So it is you after all?”

  Nash frowned and then, belatedly, he smiled. “Howdy. Uh—didn’t expect to see you in these parts.”

  “I am visiting relatives in a nearby village when I hear that Matt Dundee is in jail. My brother, Zachary, say, ‘Trina, you must visit him and see if there is anything he needs.’ So here I am.”

  “Fine,” said Nash, looking past the girl to the hard-faced lawman.

  Burns gave him a crooked smile. “Well, Dundee, seems your friend knows you all right. And I’ve searched her, made sure she ain’t trying to pass you any knives or such, so she can visit with you a spell.” He looked at Ellen. “We’ll leave ’em alone, I reckon.”

  The girl nodded. “Yes. I want to talk to you, Brad. Very seriously.” She took his elbow and turned him, urging him back down the passage.

  At the door, Burns paused and turned. “You got about ten minutes and I’m leaving this door open.”

  He went through after Ellen, and Nash looked at the Mexican girl through the bars. He said in a low tone, “Who are you? Were you trying to tell
me that Zack Forrester sent you?”

  “Si, señor,” Trina said moving closer and lowering her voice, casting a sidelong glance towards the door. “Zack heard that you shot Chuka Cox and he needs a man of your talents urgently. A man who can handle dynamite.”

  Nash raised his eyebrows. He did not have to feign interest. “Well, when I busted out of San Angelo, I was hopin’ to run across the Forresters. And I sure am available, but ...” He shook the cell door briefly.

  Trina nodded. “Zack wanted only for you to say you would join him. You can leave the rest to us. You understand?”

  “Sure. But how in hell you gonna bust me out of here? Place is built solid.”

  “Zachary will know a way ... Tonight.”

  Nash whistled softly. “He sure don’t waste time.”

  The girl’s dark flashing eyes bored levelly into his face. “He needs you very soon, señor. For now, adios.”

  She turned and hurried down the passage to the front office door, pausing briefly to wave before going out. Nash leaned against the bars thoughtfully. So far the plan was working. Maybe it wasn’t so bad after all, Burns locking him up. At least it seemed to have helped his acceptance by Forrester. But Burns might well be a stumbling-block yet.

  A few minutes later, the sheriff came back to the cell accompanied by Ellen Bray. He stood at the cell door, looking in at Nash as the Wells Fargo man rolled another cigarette.

  “Ellen’s just been telling me the deal you’re working on, Nash. I guess that Mex gal must have something to do with Forrester, huh? Seein’ as how she used your fake name and spoke of someone named ‘Zachary’ ...”

  “I guess you could say that’s right,” Nash said carefully.

  Ellen was looking intently at Burns as he pulled his lips back from his teeth. He was having an inner conflict, it was plain to see. The girl put her hand on his forearm.

  “Please, Brad! You must see that you’re doing the wrong thing this way ...”

  “Mebbe,” he said tightly, hard eyes still staring at Nash. “But if I was to turn you loose now, how’s it gonna look to the town? And you’ve got hoss-stealin’ against you now. Word just came in from Sierra Blanca about that bay hoss you stole. I can’t just turn you loose. Even if I’ve the notion to.”

  Ellen looked hopeful and Nash walked over to the bars and blew tobacco smoke into Burns’ face but the lawman had more on his mind than the fact that Nash now had vestas in his possession.

  “Have you the notion to turn me loose?” Nash asked.

  “No I haven’t,” Burns said curtly and Ellen’s face fell.

  “But, Brad, I thought after I’d explained to you—”

  He patted her hand and looked down into her face, a faint smile touching his lips. “I said I don’t have the notion and I don’t, Ellen. But you did kind of convince me that maybe I should let Nash get on with his job.” He swiveled hard, cold eyes to the Wells Fargo man. “I reckon you and me’ll have to square things up some other time, Nash.”

  The lawman took a bunch of keys from his belt and stepped towards the cell. Ellen looked relieved and smiled at Nash but the smile faded when Nash snapped:

  “Don’t unlock that door!”

  Burns checked with the key a few inches from the lock. “Now, what the hell ...?”

  “The Mex gal. Like you said, she was from Forrester. He aims to bust me out of here tonight.”

  Burns met his gaze and held it. “You ... or Dundee?”

  “Dundee, of course! He must be planning another holdup. She said he needs someone who can handle dynamite and that was Dundee’s specialty.”

  “How do they figure to get you out?”

  Nash shrugged. “Dunno. But, if it’s all the same to you, I’ll go that way.”

  “Brad could let you out now and say you escaped,” Ellen suggested. She looked at Burns. “I’m worried that if those outlaws come into town there might be shooting and ... someone ... might get hurt.”

  “The ‘someone’ being you, Burns,” Nash said, spelling it out for the lawman. “Sorry, ma’am. I’d rather Forrester got me out.”

  Burns flushed. “Look, I’ve just been elected sheriff. Won’t look good if I let you escape.”

  “You were about to turn me loose,” Nash pointed out.

  “Well, I’d have gotten around that somehow, but it’ll look like I’m kind of lax in my duty if I let the Forrester bunch ride in here and spring you.” His voice hardened. “And I don’t aim to bend over backwards to help you, Nash. You owe me too much for that. I want you to get it straight that I’m doing this mainly for Ellen, not for you.”

  “Sure,” Nash said and smothered a grin. He knew that Burns was inherently decent but this was his way of covering up any show of ‘softness’. “Look, Burns, if they bust me out, they’ll take me straight to their hideout. You just make sure you’re out of town tonight or unable to get back to the jail to stop anything. I’d sure appreciate it. What d’you say?”

  Burns tapped the cell door key against his teeth and looked down at the girl. There was a silent appeal in her eyes.

  ~*~

  Clay Nash figured he would just have to be prepared for anything. The Mexican girl hadn’t gone into details about the escape plans—likely she hadn’t been told, anyway—and he didn’t have any idea of what time the break-out attempt would be made.

  So he sat on his bunk, boots and hat on, smoking and waiting in the darkness.

  Burns had locked up the law office as usual and gone back to the Bray house on the hill for supper. After the meal, at which he noticed Ellen to be in a much better mood, he went into the den to do some work on his book. He assembled the notes that he had made during the trail drive. He was absorbed in his work when Ellen brought him coffee and biscuits and they talked a spell until she said she was going up to bed. She leaned down and kissed him lightly on the cheek, startling him.

  “Thanks for being decent about Nash,’’ she said. “I knew you couldn’t be vindictive forever.’’

  He watched her go and then returned to his notes. But his concentration was broken now. His thoughts swung between Nash and the girl ... and he found himself listening for some sounds that might indicate the outlaws were breaking Nash out of the cells ...

  Just after midnight, most of the town was sleeping. There were still a few lights here and there, including one showing in the den in the house on top of the hill.

  Zack Forrester led the way in, followed by Link Magee and Clem Lester, and two Mexican hardcases they had recruited from Katerina Morales’ village. The outlaws made little noise on their approach, riding down Main Street at little more than a walking pace. They were leading an extra horse for Nash ... or ‘Dundee’ as they knew him.

  Forrester led the way down the alley between the law offices and the blacksmith’s and around to the rear yard. There was a high clapboard fence, rising to about seven feet, topped with strands of barbed wire. A heavy wooden gate on iron hinges was chained and padlocked from the inside. Forrester sent Magee and one of the Mexicans over to the blacksmith’s and they came back with a heavy iron bar that had been partly forged into a crowbar. With four men straining their muscles, the bar first bent, then finally snapped a link in the chain on the gate. It went with a loud crack and the chain clattered against the wood before Magee caught it. They paused, listening, hands on guns, but the noise didn’t seem to have disturbed anyone.

  There was a bolt on the inside of the gate, but once again the bar, inserted between the gate and the fence post, forced it back with a screech of screws pulling out of wood. They didn’t wait this time to see if the noise had alerted anyone. Forrester lacked in the gate and led the way across the weeds to the rear door of the adobe cellblock. The others followed fast, one Mexican standing by the gate with six-gun in hand, watching the horses. Clem Lester had the iron bar and Forrester, grimacing as he held his wounded chest, gestured to him impatiently to get to work on the door.

  Lester slammed the chisel point of the bar between
the edge of the door and the jamb and Magee and the other Mexican swung their weight on it, straining and grunting as wood creaked and groaned and metal screeched thinly.

  In the cell, Nash leapt to his feet and went to the barred door, dropping his cigarette and grinding it out under his boot. The sounds at the rear door were unmistakable: someone was breaking in and it had to be Forrester and his men. Well, he hadn’t known exactly what to expect but somehow he had figured on something more spectacular than this. Maybe dynamite blowing down the cell wall or something like that. He hadn’t figured on anyone busting down those heavy timber doors and iron bindings. There was a resounding crash as the door swung inwards against the passage wall and he could see grayness and a few stars that were almost immediately blotted out by men coming into the passage.

  “Dundee!” someone called in a low voice.

  “Down here!” Nash answered. “Cell nearest the front office!”

  He could dimly make out the shapes gathering in the passage outside the door.

  “Keys should be in the desk in the office,” Nash said. “But the door’s closed off.”

  “Get it open!” Forrester growled. “And no lights. We could blow you out, Matt, but we need all our dynamite and, anyways, I don’t want the town down on my neck. We’ll talk over old times in Yuma Pen over a few drinks when we get to the hideout.”

  Nash stiffened with shock. Yuma! In a few moments, Zack would know Nash was an impostor!

  Nash moved back deeper into the cell, thinking fast, half listening to the sounds of the iron bar wrecking the door that led to the front office. This assignment was just one goddamn problem after another, he told himself. The difference was, unless he could find an answer to this one, fast, he could get himself killed, cold.

  Chapter Six

  Outlaw Country

  Brad Burns was startled when there was a sudden hammering on the front door. He snapped his head up from his work and his right hand dropped to the gun slung in its rig over the back of his chair. The hammering started again and he heard his name called through the door.