Brand 10

by Neil Hunter

  ‘Be truthful I’m glad he didn’t. From the way that robbery went that bunch was pretty hard.’

  ‘This is a small town. People are good at the work they do, but there ain’t one of ’em fit to go chasing a gang of killers. Earl didn’t have the wherewithal to suggest it. Anybody else got hurt he’d never live with himself. Anyhow, that’s my opinion for what she’s worth.’

  ‘Seems I should have come straight to you,’ Brand said.

  Converse grinned. ‘Son, ever’body talks to me. They come for their horses and naturally we talk things over. Just like we’re doin’.’

  He led Brand to a stall where a big, powerful looking brown and white paint horse stood. The animal swiveled its head and walked to the gate.

  ‘Good sign,’ Converse said. ‘Now she don’t take to everyone, but damned if she doesn’t have that gleam in her eye. I think she’ll take to you.’’

  Brand reached out to stroked the paint’s muzzle. The horse didn’t back off. It pushed back against his hand.

  ‘She’s one hell of a horse, mister. Got enough bottom to ride all the way through Mexico and back. Now she can be feisty, but use firm hand and she’ll do what you want.’

  ‘What do you call her?’

  ‘Why Lady, what else’ Converse said, ’cause that’s what she is.’

  The paint lifted its head at the sound of its name, shaking it soundly and made a soft sound.

  ‘She’ll do right well,’ Brand said. ‘Fit me up with a good saddle and all the trappings. A good saddle. I have a notion we’re going on a long ride.’

  They completed their deal and Brand paid the price. He left the livery and made his way to a general store he’d seen earlier. He needed to buy himself provisions and additional gear for his ride. His remark about a long ride had not been off the cuff. Something told him he was going to go a long way in his attempt to regain what had been stolen from the train the day it had been subject to the robbery.

  When he returned to his hotel with his purchases the first thing he did was change from his suit into more suitable clothing. Dark pants and a gray shirt. A soft leather vest went over the shirt. He had a spare shirt in his saddlebags and he added a couple of boxes of ammunition he’d bought for the .45 Colt and the .44-40 Winchester. A sheathed knife was threaded onto his belt. The adapted Colt .45, with its short barrel and shaved down butt went into one pouch of the bags. He had bought a couple of large canteens that would supply his water needs. In his possibles bag he had cooking gear and food. Brand had treated himself to a handful of slim cigars and some extra Lucifers wrapped in a strip of oilcloth. In addition was a blanket roll and a long, black slicker in case the weather turned. Brand packed everything neat and tidy.

  On his way out he handed in the key.

  ‘You leaving town already?’ the clerk said.

  ‘Yeah, work to do.’

  Some damn work, he thought.

  Brand shouldered his gear and stepped outside. He turned in the direction of the livery, eyes searching the street as he walked. There was little to interest him. Just a scattering of Handy’s citizens going about their business.

  Handy.

  A nice, ordinary town that had suffered a brutal act of violence a few days ago. The shadow would stay with the town for some time. But it would survive Brand knew. Hopefully any further consequence of the attack would take place elsewhere. Far away from Handy. The town didn’t need any more problems. It was down to Brand to make sure it stayed that way.

  He met Hicks as he neared the livery.

  ‘You all set?’

  ‘As I ever will be.’

  Hicks followed him inside to where Converse had Lady saddled and waiting. He secured his saddlebags and fixed his blanket roll and possibles bag in place.

  ‘Good luck,’ Converse said after shaking Brand’s hand.

  ‘I wish there was more I could offer,’ Hicks said.

  ‘My job now,’ Brand said as he swung into the saddle and gathered the reins.

  Hicks raised as hand as Brand gigged the paint into movement and rode out of the livery.

  Along the street Toby Books was sitting on a sturdy chestnut, waiting.

  ‘Mind if I ride a while with you? Show you the way they went?’

  ‘Obliged,’ Brand said and they moved off.

  They crossed the rail tracks and headed away from town.

  Brand sensed his companion had something on his mind. He figured Books would spit it out when he was ready so he didn’t ask. They had covered a couple of miles before Books spoke.

  ‘It true you were a US Marshal?’

  ‘Checking up on me, boy?’

  ‘Just curious, is all. You mind me asking?’

  ‘It goes back a ways now.’

  ‘Jake Converse told me. Said he recalled your name and that you’d worn the badge.’

  Brand grinned. ‘That old man knows too much,’ he said.

  ‘It true then?’

  ‘It’s true.’

  ‘Why did you leave?’

  ‘Didn’t Jake know that? It’s all old history now. I guess I overstepped the line and the ones in charge took against me. Made it so I couldn’t stay on.’

  ‘I didn’t mean to pry…’

  ‘Like I said it’s over and done. I survived. Moved on. In the end I was offered this second chance and took it. Lot’s happened since then.’

  ‘Good things I hope.’

  ‘Some,’ Brand said. ‘Can’t say all of it bad.’ He thought of Adam and Virginia. ‘And some even better.’

  Books reined in, indicated the way ahead with a sweep of his arm.

  ‘You stay south,’ he said. ‘Aim for that ridge ahead. Keep it in your line of sight. Can’t prove it out but I’m pretty certain that’s the way they were heading.’

  ‘Thanks for your help, Toby. Appreciate it.’

  They shook hands.

  ‘Good luck, Mr. Brand.’

  ‘It’s Jason to my friends.’

  Books swung his horse around and headed back towards Handy.

  Brand sat and surveyed the way ahead. He leaned forward and stroked the paint’s neck.

  ‘You and me now, Lady,’ he said. ‘Let’s go see what we can find.’

  Chapter Three

  Lander was becoming more and more restless. His partner Dane Mennard could tell because he was smoking cigarettes continuously. It was the giveaway sign. Now Mennard had no such problems. He was content to sit back and enjoy the peace and quiet. It wasn’t that he was lacking in ambition, just satisfied to let it arrive in its own time. Sitting it out and waiting in the stand of trees and brush where they could observe the fading trail left by the rest of the bunch was an easy way to pass time, but Lander was starting to exhibit a dissatisfaction with the task.

  Mennard topped up his mug from the coffee pot set over the small fire.

  ‘Before you ask,’ Lander snapped, ‘no I don’t need any more coffee. I drink much more I’ll turn into a damn bean.’

  ‘Why, Vince, we getting’ a little touchy?’

  ‘What do you think? Costigan sends us all the way back here to keep a watch. For what? Nearly two days and we ain’t seen a damn soul. It’s like we’re the only living things around. There’s no regular trail hereabouts so why would we see anyone?’

  ‘Lige is just being cautious. He doesn’t want some posse catching up with us.’

  ‘If there was going to be a posse they would have showed by now. Come on, Dane, that town ain’t got the means to chase after us. They got too much caution after what we done.’

  ‘Doesn’t mean they haven’t sent out the word. US Marshal Office. Mebbe Rangers.’

  ‘Well Handy is a distance from anywhere. Take time to bring anyone in if they are coming. And that works for us. Longer it takes the better chance we have of disappearing.’

  Lander finished rolling a fresh cigarette. He scratched a match on his gun butt and lit up, blew out a coil of smoke.

  ‘Sure, that’s fine for Lige and
the others. They’re making distance. We’re back up the trail. Kind of leaves us out on a limb.’

  Mennard grinned. ‘You feeling left out?’

  ‘What I’m feeling is I got a target on my back.’ He arched his stiff body. ‘Just how much longer we going to sit out here?’

  Mennard swirled the coffee in his mug. ‘Come morning we’ll ride. Catch up with the others.’

  ‘About damn time,’ Lander grumbled.

  He turned about, changing his mind about coffee and took a step before freezing on the spot, his left hand raising his rifle

  Mennard saw his move, snatched at the pistol holstered on his hip.

  ‘You see him?’ Lander said.

  ‘Yeah, I see him.’

  They watched the single rider coming towards them. He was sitting relaxed in his saddle, astride a strong-looking paint. The rider, though, appeared to be checking his way. His head moved constantly, eyes cast down.

  ‘He’s looking for tracks,’ Lander said, ‘and I don’t mean cattle tracks.’

  ‘Certainly interested in something,’ Mennard agreed.

  ‘I say he’s looking for our prints. Damnit, Dane, can’t be anything else. Like I said we’re way off the regular trails. Costigan came this way because hardly anyone cuts this piece of country. That feller ain’t looking for daisies.’

  Mennard couldn’t fault his partner’s reasoning. The approaching rider was checking the ground intently now. The way he was acting was proving out.

  Leaning forward Lander brought his rifle to his shoulder, sighting along the barrel, his finger resting lightly against the Henry’s trigger.

  ‘You just keep coming, friend,’ he murmured. ‘Way you’re acting is making me suspicious…no doubt at all...’

  Mennard gripped his Colt. Watched the rider getting closer.

  ‘No way he’s getting close,’ Lander said in a whisper. ‘I’ll put him out of that saddle first…’

  Chapter Four

  The ride out from Handy had given Brand the opportunity to learn about the paint. He quickly found the horse was sharp and responsive. Lady settled into his presence with little resistance. She moved well, head held high, and it was plain she was more than ready to take him wherever he wanted. Brand made sure to keep praising her, leaning forward to stroke her silky neck and offer words of encouragement. The closeness between horse and rider was important Brand understood and the paint showed her pleasure by giving him an easy ride.

  The afternoon was slipping away. The weather still warm, with hardly any breeze. Brand knew that once the light began to fade he was going to lose the tracks he was following. Toby Books had put him on the right trail and Brand had been able to follow it even though the ground prints were becoming more indistinct all the time. His ability to maintain his search would prove harder once he reached the hard ground Books had mentioned. Difficult, but not impossible. It would just take him longer to pick up the trail again. He had noticed one shoe print that showed a split in the metal. Just as Toby Books had mentioned. Smart boy, Brand thought. A keen eye and a good brain.

  The undulating landscape, dotted here and there by islands of timber and brush, caused Brand to ride with ears and eyes alert. He was not by nature a nervous man, simply cautious. That caution had kept him alive so far and he had no thoughts to lessen his awareness of his surroundings, taking in sights and sounds and assessing anything that might stand out from the norm.

  He hadn’t seen a solitary soul since leaving Handy. That in itself was not unexpected. This was lonely country, greatly uninhabited, so lonesome travel was an accepted part of it. Which did not deter Brand from remaining sharp.

  He was in sight of a stand of timber now, the shadowed interior of the trees and brush offering no easy view of anything that might be concealed within.

  As good as Brand’s awareness was it fell far short of that of the horse he was riding. It was Lady who reacted to something, her head turning slightly in the direction of the stand. Brand felt the horse hesitate, breaking stride as she slightly pulled back. He heard the agitated blow of air from her nostrils as Lady picked up a scent, a warning tremor coursing through the powerful body.

  If he hadn’t received that equine warning he might not have taken close notice himself, but as he did Brand picked up the briefest flicker of the lowering sunlight glance off the barrel of a long gun as it pushed through the greenery.

  Brand reached and grasped his sheathed Winchester, hauling it from the scabbard as he slid his feet from the stirrups and rolled out of his saddle. He landed on his feet, reaching out to slap the paint on her rump.

  ‘Get out of here, Lady.’

  The horse veered to the side, Brand cutting away, and as he moved he heard the solid crash of a rifle shot. Heard the thump as the lead slug burned into the ground feet away. He had been looking in the direction of the concealed shooter and caught a glimpse flame as the rifle fired. He dug in his heels and kept moving, weaving from side to side, firing from the hip, levering and firing a couple more times at the spot where he had seen the gun flash.

  Then he dropped, using a slight depression in the ground to provide a degree of cover. Brand propped himself on his elbows and sent a tight group of shots into the trees. He had no idea how many men were concealed by the timber, just put the shots out to discourage any reckless moves.

  ~*~

  ‘Sonofabitch,’ Lander said. ‘He hit me.’

  He clutched a hand to his right shoulder where one of the random shots had burned a searing line across the flesh.

  ‘Stay the hell down then’ came Mennard’s less than sympathetic reply.

  Dane Mennard had never been one to temper his feelings, even when he was talking to his partner. The burst of gunfire had been unwelcome and if Lander hadn’t been so quick to take a shot at the rider, they might have been left alone. All that had changed the minute Lander had taken his shot albeit off target. Now they were in the position of having to take on the rider, who was far from being a novice.

  ‘What the hell you taking it out of me for?’ Lander said.

  ‘If you’d kept your finger off the trigger he might have ridden by.’

  ‘And mebbe not.’

  Lander pulled further back into the brush.

  ‘What you doing now?’

  ‘I’ll cut through to the far side. Come at him from there.’

  Mennard didn’t bother to argue. He knew Lander’s stubborn nature. Once he got an idea in his head there was no stopping him. Mennard hoped the move worked because if it didn’t the rider might push matters his way and…

  How the hell did we get in this bind? Mennard thought.

  Mennard was no stranger to situations such as this. He had been forced to get himself out of awkward holes on other occasions. Yet he knew that with each successive encounter the odds were shortening and one day he would not walk off free and clear.

  Lander’s quick trigger finger had drawn them into this. All because he couldn’t wait. Because he was an impulsive chancer. It wasn’t the first time Lander had messed up. Well maybe this time he would end up with a lead slug in his butt.

  There was a flurry of movement in the trees and brush off to Mennard’s right. That would be where Lander had gone. The flurry increased. Then a rifle shot. A fast response followed by a harsh yell that trailed off into a fading groan.

  Mennard knew the sound came from Lander. The unseen rider had taken him. He clutched his Colt, the palm of his hand slick with sweat. Mennard didn’t consider himself a coward but he held respect for his own life. The last thing he wanted was to lose it out here in the backyard of nowhere. He was worth more than being gut shot and left for dead in this godforsaken piece of emptiness.

  ~*~

  Brand had moved, knowing the hidden gunmen might converge on his position. He was sure he had winged one of them but he needed to be sure. He pushed into a crouch, then ran forward and moved around the clump of timber and brush, expecting the sound of shots to follow. None did and he p
ushed into the surrounding cover of the greenery, figuring that his sudden move had caught the opposition off guard.

  So far in and he dropped to a crouch, stilling all movement as he focused on his surroundings. He pulled the Winchester close not wanting to allow it to disturb the brush. Even a slight sound could carry and betray his position. He waited. Listening for anything that might give away the positions of whoever had shot at him. It was possible they were doing the same. Which might result in a stalemate.

  Then he picked up a disturbance off to his left and ahead. The low sound as someone moved briefly. Followed by a groan that was cut off quickly. He pinpointed the direction. Moved quickly in that direction. Brand transferred his rifle to his left hand and slid the Colt from his holster. The crowding bulk of the brush could easily get in the way of a long gun, and truth be told Brand was faster with the Colt. He paused briefly to establish his bearings head moving left to right. Eyes searching...and that was when he saw the hunched shape on the ground no more than ten feet away. Then out the corner of his eye he picked up movement coming in from his right. The bulk of a man. The shape of a hand gun emerging from the shadows. The muzzle angling in his direction. Brand turned from the hip, the Colt following through and he fired. Cocked the gun and fired a second time. The other man’s gun fired off a single shot as he went down on his knees, throwing his left hand across to steady his gun hand. Brand fired off two more shots, the heavy slugs thumping into the man’s chest, tumbling him to the leaf strewn ground. He arched once, body straining before he stretched out. The back of his shirt began to bleed red from the twin exit holes.

  Smoke curled up from the muzzle of Brand’s handgun as he watched, waited, and realized there was no more to come. There had only been the two of them. He moved to check out the man he had just put down. A brief inspection told him the man was dead. Brand moved to the first man. He heard the harsh rasp of breath as he stood over him. The man’s chest was wet with blood and there was more over his right hip. Sensing Brand’s presence the man lifted his head, sweat gleaming on his face. He looked at the still form lying a few yards away.