The Battle At Three-Cross

by William Colt MacDonald

  Lanky nodded. “If that ain’t the sheriff’s horse I’m a jug-headed sheep thief.”

  Even while they were talking about the matter Trunk-Strap Kelly rounded the corner of the house and led the beast away—probably to be watered and rubbed down. Lance yelled, “Hey, Trunk-Strap, wait and take our broncs with you.”

  Kelly turned and saw the approaching riders. He waited until they came up, dismounted, then grasped the reins of the ponies. “Have any luck in that Yaquente camp?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” Lanky drawled. “We escaped with our scalps. Had some more luck comin’ through Muletero. I’ll tell it later.”

  “That’s Sheriff Lockwood’s gray, isn’t it?” Lance asked.

  Trunk-Strap nodded. “He got here just a spell ago—been riding all night, I reckon, from the looks of the horse. Something’s in the wind; I could tell it from his face. He’s in the house.”

  “Must have come through Muletero just before we staged our shindig,” Lanky commented.

  Then from the doorway came a sudden hail. “Hi yuh, Lance! How they going, Lanky?” Ethan Lock-wood was standing there.

  Lance and Lanky stepped up on the gallery and shook hands. “What you doing here?” Lance asked.

  “Ran across something I thought you should know,” Lockwood replied. “Got a deputy from Saddleville to substitute for me, got on my horse and pushed hard. I even remembered to bring Oscar a fresh supply of lemon drops.” They entered the house. Katherine, the professor and Oscar were just beyond the door. The sheriff continued, “I’ve been hearing about the lively time you’re having down here, what with snake temples and Aztec gods and that damned—excuse me, Miss Gregory—that damned Fletcher. If he ain’t a dyed-in-the-wool blackguard I never seen one. Coming through Muletero a spell back I thought I caught a glimpse of Chiricahua Herrick going into a cantina, but I couldn’t be sure. I was riding fast and didn’t want to stop.”

  “Ten to one it was Herrick.” Lance nodded. “Lanky and I had a fuss with ’em when we came through. Herrick, Wheeler and Ridge.”

  “Lance!” Katherine exclaimed. “More trouble! What happened?”

  “We won’t be bothered with those three any more,” Lance said meaningly. “I’ll give you the details later.” Everyone was silent for a minute. Lance went on, “What’s on your mind, Ethan?”

  “Quite a bit,” the sheriff said. “I’ve been saving it until you get here so I wouldn’t have to tell it twice. There’s so much to tell I don’t just know where to start. In the first place, Lance, that feller you were trailing is——” He broke off, then: “Is it all right to tell what brought you to Pozo Verde, Lance?”

  “I’ll tell it myself,” Lance said, and turned to the others. “You see, I’m an operative of the Special Agency Ser vice, U. S. Trea sury Department. I came to——”

  “Lance,” Katherine exclaimed, her violet-blue eyes widening, “you mean that you’re a secret-ser vice man?”

  “Something of the sort.” Lance smiled.

  “Great Godfrey!” the professor burst out. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

  “You never asked me.” Lance grinned. “Howsomever, I’m asking you something right now. Just where do you fit into the scheme? There isn’t any Jonesian Institute in Washington, D.C., you know. I’ve already checked on that.”

  Jones colored. “I suspected—as much. Deuced awkward. Made a fool—myself—no doubt. Posed as cactus expert. Bah! Should have known better. Just a rank amateur. Small knowledge of cacti. Embarrassing, what? Didn’t intend—deceive you—Lance.’ Pon my word. I—I——” He paused, his face crimson.

  Katherine came to his rescue. “It’s all right, Uncle Uly. Lance, Uncle may say he’s not an expert on cacti but he’s pretty close to it. It’s been his hobby, his ruling passion for years—more years than I can remember. But in addition to that Uncle Uly is one of the finest criminal investigators in the country. Out in California it’s that phase of his career, rather than for his collection of cacti, for which he is best known.”

  Jones looked embarrassed. “Katherine laying it on—too thick,” he said disparagingly. “Had—great deal—luck—one or two criminal problems. Reputation overrated—assure you.”

  “Don’t take his word for it,” Katherine said earnestly. “Anyway, I wanted to come down here and see if anything could be learned regarding Father’s death. Uncle Uly consented to lend me his assistance. We decided it was best for him to pose as being sent on a cactus-hunting expedition by some big institute, so as not to arouse suspicions. From the first Uncle suspected Fletcher of a hand in Father’s death but couldn’t get the necessary proof. He also guessed that Frank Bowman was on Fletcher’s trail, though for what purpose he didn’t know. Fletcher kept trying to dissuade us from the trip down here. Later, when Bowman had been killed, Uncle Uly wanted a man he could count on in a pinch rather than a guide. He liked Lance’s looks in that capacity. Uncle has also wondered if Lance wasn’t a law officer of some sort.”

  Lance crossed the room, hand outstretched. “I reckon I owe you a heap of apologies, Professor.”

  “Not at all.” Jones smiled. “Natural mistake, what?”

  Katherine added, “He really was a professor of botany once too. But the search for cacti was secondary. It was a desire for news regarding Dad’s death that really brought us down here.”

  “I can help out there,” Lance said. “Fletcher killed your father, Katherine. Herrick confessed that much——”

  “That’s one of the things I had to tell,” Lockwood broke in. “You’ll be telling me next that you know where Matt Foster is and——”

  “At least I know who he is,” Lance interrupted.

  “Wait a minute, Ethan.” He turned to the others. “I was sent on the track of a man named Matt Foster. Foster had robbed a Trea sury Department messenger of thirty thousand dollars. A record of the numbers on the bills had been kept, and they were traced to Pozo Verde. Last night I recognized Matt Foster.”

  Lance took from his pocket a photograph. “Here’s a picture of Matt Foster and his gang—the gang he had at the time they held up the Trea sury Department messenger. Lanky—Oscar, take a look at this photo. This one at the back of the group is Matt Foster—the one with the heavy growth of black whis kers.”

  Oscar said, “You showed that picture to Ethan and me once.”

  Lanky said slowly, “There’s something looks familiar about that Foster hombre, but I can’t just place him.”

  “I’ll help you,” Lance said. “Just pretend that derby hat is a helmet and those black whis kers are black feathers. Remember, last night in the Temple of the Plumed Serpent?”

  “Fletcher, by Gawd!” Lanky exclaimed.

  Oscar said, “Sure it’s Fletcher. Well, I’ll be danged!”

  Lance nodded. “Malcolm Fletcher is Matt Foster. I recognized him last night. Remember, I told you to remember that face?”

  “By cripes,” Lockwood said disappointedly, “that’s another of the things I came down here to tell you, Lance. Don’t tell me you already know that we found Elmer Manley——”

  “Dead or alive?” Lance asked quickly.

  “Alive—plenty alive.”

  “Tell it,” Lance said. “You’ve been interrupted enough, Ethan. Where did you find him?”

  Ethan laughed. “You can credit Johnny Quinn and his hemoglobinuria scare with the discovery of Elmer. Old Johnny saw Banker Gill Addison taking some stomach pills one day and he got to wondering if Gill had hemoglobinuria. The more he thought about it the more he became convinced he should tell Addison to drink bourbon for the disease. So he went to Addison’s house. Addison wasn’t home. The house was dark. But Johnny Quinn thought he heard someone inside making strangling noises. Johnny came running to me, all in a dither, saying that Gill Addison was dying of hemoglobinuria and that I’d better enter the house and call a doctor. To cut a long story short, I went to the Addison home—he lives alone, you know—broke down the door after I’d heard those same strangl
ing noises and discovered Elmer Manley, roped and gagged. Elmer had been trying to call for help through his gag. About the time I untied Elmer and got him on his feet, Gill Addison came home. I put him under arrest pronto.”

  Lanky growled, “Don’t tell me Banker Addison was mixed up with Fletcher?”

  “He was mixed up plenty.” Lockwood nodded. “Once I got him in a cell and worked on him a mite he broke down. Addison never did have much nerve, so it wa’n’t hard to make him talk. It seems that Matt Foster—or call him Fletcher—had known Addison some years back, just about the time Addison got out of prison after serving a forgery sentence. Fletcher had that stolen money, but the bills’ numbers having been recorded, they were risky to get rid of. Addison took them over at a discount and from time to time slipped them in with the bills that Manley passed through his cashier’s cage. Addison got rid of quite a few of the bills himself when he handled the cage while Manley was out to dinner.”

  “Being a banker,” Lance put in, “Addison could pass such stolen money without being suspected, of course.”

  “It was a cinch,” Lockwood said. “Addison, like other bankers throughout the country, had a list of the numbered bills. By accident Elmer Manley had a short look at that list and remembered some of the numbers. Thus he recognized some of the bills Addison had slipped into his cash drawer. He didn’t know how they’d come there. When he reported the matter to Addison, Addison insisted he was mistaken in the numbers. However, he refused to let Elmer see the list of missing bills. In short, he told Elmer to stick to his cashier’s cage and forget about stolen money. That aroused Elmer’s suspicions.”

  Lockwood paused to assemble his facts, then continued, “Meanwhile, Jared Gregory had been looking for a partner to take a half-share in his ranch and buy some blooded stock to raise the quality of his cows. He asked Addison to suggest someplace where he could find a partner. It looked like a good proposition. Fletcher was looking for an investment. He bought a half-interest in the ranch. A few days later Jared Gregory discovered on the property an ancient Aztec temple. Well, gold and jewels are usually found in such places. Fletcher and Addison decided they wanted the temple all to themselves, so it was planned for Fletcher to kill Jared Gregory and——” Lockwood broke off in some embarrassment. “Gosh, Miss Gregory, I hate to be reminding you——”

  “Go on,” Katherine urged. Her eyes were a trifle moist. “After all, we’ve got to know the facts so we can—can——”

  Her voice broke. Lance moved closer and took one of her hands in both his own. Lockwood went on, a trifle hurriedly, “Anyway, they were mistaken about the gold and jewels. They never did find any trea sure beyond a few silver trinkets that weren’t worth much. Meanwhile, an Indian—half Yaquente, half Apache—had witnessed the killing of Jared Gregory. This Indian decided to blackmail Fletcher. Fletcher was in a tight. He asked Addison’s advice. Addison advised him to hire Chiricahua Herrick to kill the Indian. Instead, Herrick made friends with the hombre who had certain ideas about cooking up a revolution in Mexico.”

  “He was probably that interpreter Fletcher used last night,” Lanky put in, “at the temple of the snake.”

  “Might be,” Lockwood agreed. “Anyway, this Indian knew about the Yaquente ceremonies that were being carried on in the temple. He also knew that anyone who would furnish mezcal buttons to the Yaquentes could get a lot out of them and make it an easy matter to work them into fomenting a religious war. They talked it over with Addison and Fletcher. It looked good. Once the revolutionists had conquered a few towns and picked up strength they planned to attack Chihuahua City. Thereafter Herrick, Addison and Fletcher had plans of their own. The government mint is located at Chihuahua City, you know. Once the mint was in their hands they planned to seize the gold and silver bullion, transport the loot to the States, double-cross the Indians and forget the revolution.”

  “Jeepers!” Lance exclaimed. “They reckoned to work on a big scale, didn’t they? What a plot! Going to raid the Chihuahua mint, eh? The nerve of the skunks!”

  “There isn’t much more to tell,” Lockwood resumed. “Frank Bowman had arrived in Pozo Verde on the trail of those stolen bills. He worked himself in with the Herrick gang. Some of them talked too much—as they later admitted, Addison told me. Addison thinks that Bowman must have commenced to grow suspicious of Fletcher. Fletcher was friendly with Professor Jones. Probably Bowman didn’t know what the tie-up was but by that time he must have begun to suspect the game was bigger than he had at first thought. Anyway, when the professor stated he was going to make a trip down into Mexico Bowman got the job as his guide. Then Bowman made his bad mistake.”

  “What was that?” Lance asked.

  Lockwood said, “Apparently he wasn’t making much headway on finding the stolen money. Thinking he’d be dealing with an honest banker, he went to Addison, told Addison he was a government agent and asked for cooperation in watching for the missing bills. Addison passed the news to Fletcher, of course, and that sealed Bowman’s fate. He was put out of the way. By this time, though, Addison was getting scary about so much killing and he balked on Elmer being rubbed out.”

  “What happened to Elmer, anyway?” Lance asked.

  Lockwood explained, “That day you talked to Elmer in the bank and he promised to meet you that night he gave you two of the missing bills, didn’t he?” Lance nodded. Lockwood continued, “Addison saw the bills in your hand and became suspicious of Elmer’s actions. That afternoon he told Fletcher what he had seen. Fletcher said Elmer would have to die. Addison bucked on the proposition. He promised to keep Elmer a prisoner until such time as their plot had been pulled off. That afternoon he sent Elmer to hire a horse and buggy for him with the excuse that he had to drive to Saddleville with a satchel of money to deliver to a bank there. Elmer drove the rig to Addison’s bank. Addison came out with a grip packed with old newspapers which he pretended was money. Then he said he had to stop at his home to get some ledgers to take to the Saddleville bank. He asked Elmer to drive the rig that far. At Addison’s home Addison asked Elmer to come in and help him carry out the ledgers. Once Elmer was in the house Addison hit him on the head, knocked him unconscious and tied and gagged him. Later Addison drove the horse and buggy out to the edge of town and turned it loose. Elmer was kept a prisoner at Addison’s home until old Johnny Quinn and I released him. Incident’ly, the State Banking Board has put Elmer in charge of the Pozo Verde bank.”

  “Ethan,” Lance said, “your story has sure cleared up a heap of details that had my brain whirling dizzily. All I’ve got to do now is find Fletcher and arrest him, and the case is cleared up.”

  Katherine said, “Before you talk about arresting anybody, Lance, you’d better get some sleep. You look dead tired. First, however, will you please tell me what hemoglobinuria means? I’m feeling sorry for old Johnny Quinn without knowing what kind of a disease he has.”

  Lance laughed and told her the story. Professor Jones smiled and said, “Hemoglobinuria, eh? Excellent word, what? Reminds me—botanical nomenclature—various cacti. By the way, Sheriff, you haven’t seen my Echinopsis gregoriana. Startling discovery, y’understand. Come out on the gallery.” He seized the reluctant sheriff and started him toward the door.

  Lockwood spoke over his shoulder. “Oh yes, Miss Gregory, there’s quite a sizable balance of your father’s money on deposit in the Pozo Verde bank. Addison had figured to do some forging and grab that money for himself, but now that Elmer is running the bank it will be safe until you want it.”

  “But—but,” Katherine said, “it was stolen money Fletcher paid Father for the share in the Three-Cross.”

  Lance shook his head. “No, it was Addison who accepted that stolen money from Fletcher. That’s Addison’s responsibility. The money credited to your father’s account, Katherine, is backed by the Pozo Verde bank.

  The girl turned on Lance and spoke with pretended severity. “Lance, are you still here? I told you to go get some sleep.”

 
; “Yes, Katy, my dear,” Lance said meekly, and left the room.

  It was late afternoon when Lance awakened to find Oscar shaking his shoulder. “Sorry to spoil your snooze,” Oscar was saying, “but a Mex from Muletero just arrived with a note for you. He claims Fletcher made him bring it here. Maybe it’s important.”

  Lance swung his feet off the bed and sat up, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He took the sealed envelope and broke the flap. Inside was a single sheet of paper, written in lead pencil:

  TOLLIVER:

  The discovery of my feathered rattler won’t help you any. I have plans that can’t be interfered with, so this country isn’t big enough to hold both of us. If you and your friends will surrender to me I promise you safe conduct out of Mexico after my plans have been fulfilled within a few months. Otherwise my Indians will wipe you out. I’ll give you until dawn to make up your mind, but think fast. Surrender or fight! But you won’t have a chance if you fight.

  FLETCHER.

  Lance rose to his feet. “This,” he said grimly, “is the worst yet. Read this, Oscar. There’s hell to pay, and no pitch hot!”

  XXIV

  “Fighting Is a Yaquente’s Life”

  Oscar’s face blanched as he read the note. Lance said, “Fletcher’s mention of that feathered snake proves he’s seen Horatio, I reckon. Is the messenger who brought the note waiting for an answer now?”

  Oscar shook his head. “He ducked out as soon as he delivered it. I reckon he didn’t want any part of either game and only came here on protest because he was afraid of Fletcher.”

  Lance nodded. “Probably so. Oscar, while I’m getting dressed you go out and round up our crew. Show ’em the note. Bring ’em into the main room of the ranch house, and we’ll hold a council of war and see what’s to be done.”