by Ralph Cotton
From up on the steep rocky hillside Maria watched Grissin give the order and try to ride away. She had been staying down out of sight keeping watch on the horses. But as she saw the fighting commence, she grabbed both her shotgun and her rifle and came running down across the stream to the drovers’ aid.
Thorpe had kept a close watch on Grissin, expecting some sort of treachery from the former outlaw turned businessman. Before Grissin had gotten the words out of his mouth, Thorpe had raised his battered range Colt from his holster and fired. His shot sliced across Grissin’s upper arm and caused him to drop the heavy canvas bag as he struggled to quickly right himself and his spooked horse.
Tillman Duvall, the fastest of the gunmen, jumped his horse between Grissin and Thorpe. He drew his big revolver quickly and shot Thorpe squarely in the head—or so he thought. Without hesitating a second to see what damage his shot had done, he spun his horse immediately and fired at Mackenzie. He didn’t see Thorpe’s hat fly from his head as Thorpe fell backward with a long streaking graze down the middle of his forehead.
“Look out, Mac!” Harper shouted, seeing Duvall throw down in the trail boss’s direction. As he shouted, Harper spun on his heel and fired his rifle. His shot clipped off Duvall’s saddle horn. Catching the impact of the flying saddle horn in his crotch, Duvall jackknifed in his saddle and toppled to the ground as his frightened horse reared high and bolted away.
“Wait! Don’t shoot!” shouted Cannidy, raising a hand toward Mackenzie as if a raised hand was all it would take to stop the bloodshed.
But Mackenzie had no time to hear Cannidy’s plea. He had felt a bullet from Duvall’s revolver slice through the air an inch from his head.
“You led them to us!” Brewer shouted at Cannidy as he fired. His shot picked Cannidy up from his saddle and hurled him backward to the ground. Antan Fellows, who had not yet mounted after handing Grissin the money bag, ducked down under the raging gunfire and ran for cover. He dived and rolled behind a water trough and lay flat in the dirt just as a bullet from Harper’s rifle whistled across his back.
Watching the bag of money, Clayton Longworth managed to avoid any gunfire. He booted his horse toward the big canvas bag lying on the ground where Grissin had dropped it. But before he got to it, he saw Grissin drop from his saddle and run over and pick it up.
“Hold it, Grissin!” said Maria, running in from across the stream and holding the big shotgun pointed in Grissin’s face at close range. Longworth, seeing the big shotgun come into play, slid his horse to a dust-raising halt. “Call off your men!” Maria demanded of Grissin.
Grissin stared wide-eyed down the black open bores of the shotgun barrels. “Everybody! Stop!” he shouted, holding the bag of money against his chest, waving his other hand back and forth toward his men.
“You too!” Maria called over to Mackenzie and Harper, who stood with their guns smoking in their hands.
Mackenzie looked around quickly, seeing Thorpe rise from the dirt with a bloody bullet graze on his bare head. Brewer stood with his Colt in one hand, his rifle in his other, smoke curling from the barrels of both guns.
As he stared at Maria, something in Grissin’s demeanor changed. He glanced past her, gave a slight grin and jiggled the money bag. “You have no business here, little lady, this is a private matter.”
“I said hold it!” Maria warned him, seeing he was about to walk forward toward her.
“No, you hold it,” Sheriff Peyton Quinn growled, stepping in behind her as if from out of nowhere. His forearm swung around her neck so quickly and drew her so close to him that Mackenzie and the drovers dared not risk a shot for fear of hitting her. Jerking the shotgun from her hands, he hurled it away and said, “Like Mr. Grissin told you, ‘this is a private matter.’ ”
Chapter 24
Mackenzie stood frozen, as did Tad Harper, Jock Brewer and Holly Thorpe. Standing nearest to their former trail boss, Brewer whispered under his breath, “What now, Mac? We’ve got a standoff situation.”
Mackenzie didn’t answer; he knew he didn’t have to. Brewer wasn’t asking a question. It was just his way of reassuring Mackenzie that his back was covered. Mackenzie trusted the three men standing with him well enough to know that whatever move he made they were behind him to their death if need be. “Make him turn her lose, Grissin,” he called out, “before you lose what little you think you’ve gained here.”
Grissin had taken a step forward and jerked the rifle from Maria’s hands. He turned slowly and gave Mackenzie a bemused look. “What little I think I have gained?” He jiggled the bag of money. “You still don’t seem to understand . . . I’m the one holding all the cards here.”
“All you’re holding is a bag of paper and ink,” said Mackenzie. “You should’ve left well enough alone. You had the money. All we wanted to do was leave.”
“Oh? Hear that, Mr. Duvall?” Grissin mused. “All I have is a bag of paper and ink.”
“I heard it,” said Duvall. He stepped over in front of Quinn and Maria. He reached down and took Maria’s Colt from her holster and pitched it away. “All you’ve got is paper and ink and all the sheriff’s got here is an armful of wildcat.” He grinned, cocked his gun and shoved the tip of the barrel up under Maria’s chin, tipping her head upward. “But whatever we’ve got, it sure has gotten us everybody’s attention.”
“I’ve got her, Duvall,” Quinn said, not liking the way the gunman had stepped in and begun to take things over from him. “Tell him I’ve got her, Mr. Grissin,” the one-eared sheriff called out. “I’m the one who slipped in and caught her by surprise!”
But Grissin didn’t answer the angry sheriff. Instead he spun his attention to the sound of the big dog walking down off the hillside and stopping on the other side of the stream. “The colonel’s dog,” Grissin said, watching the big bloody-mouthed cur sit down and stare at him intently. “I knew the ranger had to be around here somewhere.” His voice dropped to a low whisper as he searched the rocky, brushy hillside.
Quinn also turned toward the hillside, Maria in front of him. His face took on a fearful look. Seeing it, Duvall gave a dark chuckle and said, “Are you sure you still want to hold on to her?” As he asked, he reached out to take Maria from him. Quinn didn’t protest. He turned Maria over to Duvall and took a step back, his gun still up and cocked.
As Duvall took Maria from him, she called out to the hillside, “Sam, look out! Don’t come down here!”
Duvall cut off her words with a gloved hand over her mouth.
The four drovers looked at one another, their guns still in hand.
Longworth took a cautious step backward, recalling the bullet he’d taken the last time the ranger had questioned his intentions in a gunfight. Antan Fellows stood watching the drovers, ready for them to make a move. On the ground, Cannidy struggled up onto his knees, a wide ribbon of blood reaching down the center of his chest.
Grissin stood tensed for a moment, searching the hillside, ready for whatever response Maria’s words would bring. Finally he let out a breath and let the bag and his gun slump a bit. “Well, maybe even the bold Ranger Sam Burrack knows when the odds are too greatly stacked against him.”
But Longworth was buying none of it. He backed away a step farther and stood in silence. His eyes moved back and forth slowly from the bag of money to the steep hillside, as if weighing his chances at some risky game.
“What do I do with her now, let her go?” Duvall asked, starting to wonder himself just what might be at work.
“No, don’t let her go,” said Grissin. He raised his voice toward the hillside. “She stays with us until the ranger decides to butt out of my business.” His voice grew louder as he spoke.
“What about breaking the law?” Quinn cut in. “You’re the one always wanting to stay clean.”
“Oh, we’re within the law,” said Grissin. “My attorneys will see to that.” He dropped the heavy bag of money in the dirt by his feet for a moment and rubbed his palm on his trouser leg. “Le
t’s look at what has happened here,” he said. “This woman comes out of nowhere, wielding a shotgun while all we’re trying to do is get back what’s rightfully mine.” He gave Maria a grin. “My lawyers will eat this up.”
“Where’s your guts, Sheriff?” Duvall asked Quinn with contempt, still holding his gloved hand over Maria’s mouth, his gun barrel still beneath her chin. “No wonder this pretty woman rebuked you the last time you met.” He leaned his lips near Maria’s ear. “I bet she wouldn’t treat me that way. Would you, darling?”
“Do you hear this, Ranger?” Grissin called out to the hillside. “If you want to see this beautiful woman unharmed . . . back away.”
“No hurry, Ranger,” Duvall called out with a dark chuckle.
“We’ll let her go farther down the hill trail,” said Grissin, giving Duvall an unpleasant look.
“You’ll let her go now, Grissin,” said the ranger from the opposite side of the clearing, “or you’ll die where you’re standing.”
Grissin and his men turned quickly, caught off-guard, more than just a little surprised by the ranger’s having circled the clearing and slipped in behind them unnoticed. The drovers gave only a glance over their shoulders toward the sound of the ranger’s voice. But they kept their attention on Grissin and his men. “Ranger Burrack, you say the word, we’ve all four got you covered,” Mackenzie said quietly.
“Obliged,” Sam replied, staring straight ahead. He stepped forward, his big Colt out and cocked, the big Swiss rifle in his other hand.
“Whoa, now, Ranger,” said Grissin. “You must’ve heard what I just said.”
“I heard,” Sam said flatly.
“Then you realize that I’ve broken no law here,” said Grissin. “I made my intention clear to you the last time we met.” He tapped his foot sidelong against the canvas money bag. “I came for my money and I had every right to get it back, whatever it took to do so.”
“Turn her loose,” Sam repeated, the iron in his voice letting Grissin and his men know that he would not be asking again.
“All right, he’s turning her loose,” Grissin said, trying to appear calm and in control. With a nod from Grissin, Duvall took his forearm from around Maria’s throat and stepped away from her. He kept his gun up, cocked and ready, not trusting the cold killing look on the ranger’s face. “There she is, Ranger,” said Duvall, “no harm done, eh?”
Maria stepped over, stooped down and picked up her Colt from the dirt and shook it off. She turned, facing Duvall with a cold stare.
“Just so long as we understand each other, Ranger,” said Grissin. “I take the money and we ride away from here. We’ll call all this just one big unfortunate misunderstanding.” He gave an insincere grin. “Hell, I’m not even mad at these cowpoke—drovers, that is,” he said, correcting himself.
Mackenzie only stared, his range Colt still cocked, ready, willing.
“I’ll even pay them what they’re owed, if it will settle the stew any,” Grissin offered.
Harper spit on the ground, letting Grissin know that his money was no good.
“You meant to kill us and ride away without a thought,” said Thorpe, blood running down from the graze on his head.
“If I’d meant to kill you, you’d all be dead. What the hell?” Grissin chuckled. “It was all in the heat of the situation.” He turned toward the ranger and said, “No jury would ever convict me for anything that’s happened here today. Tell them, Ranger.”
“Are you all right?” Sam asked Maria without taking his eyes off Grissin and Duvall, knowing the drovers had the other gunmen covered.
“Si, I’m all right,” Maria replied quietly. She rubbed her throat where the gunman’s forearm had been clamped tightly.
“I don’t like to say it,” the ranger called out to the drovers, “but what he’s telling us is true. There’s nothing he’s done here that a good attorney can’t smooth over for him.”
“That figures,” Harper said.
“Keep quiet, Tadpole,” said Mackenzie.
“At least we did the right thing,” Harper said grudgingly in a lowered tone.
“The right thing. That’s funny,” said Grissin. He laughed. Duvall laughed with him. Quinn and Fellows joined in, both of them relieved that it was nearly over. Only Longworth didn’t laugh. He stood watching in silence. Cannidy still kneeled on the ground, his hands clasped to his bloody chest.
“Somebody needs to smarten you fools up a little,” Grissin said. “Doing the right thing never got anybody anywhere.” He gave them a look of contempt, then said to the ranger, “I’m picking up my money and leaving now, Ranger, unless you think you’ve got some reason to stop me.”
Sam looked at the drovers, seeing all the wounds they’d taken for trying to do right. He knew that he had nothing to charge Grissin with. Grissin was smart. He knew the law and he knew how to play it to suit himself. The thought of Grissin walking away free left a bitter taste in his mouth. But he had no choice. “Yeah, you can go, Grissin,” he said. But then, surprising even himself, he said, “I’ve got the broken money band. That should be enough for me to prove where the money came from.”
Grissin started to pick up the bag and leave, but he stopped and gave the ranger a curious look. “You’ve got what?”
“The money bands, Grissin,” Sam said, bluffing. “The bands on the stacks of money in that bag are going to prove that the cash came from the Bank of Santa Fe.”
Grissin continued staring at him. “So what if it came from the Bank of Santa Fe?” He offered a feigned grin and added, “All money goes through a bank at some time or other.”
“That’s right,” said Sam, “but the Bank of Santa Fe only started using those new paper money bands the day the bank was robbed. They hadn’t used them before, they haven’t used them since.” He paused for a moment, then said, “But if you’re innocent, none of that makes any difference, does it?”
“That’s right, it doesn’t,” Grissin said defiantly.
“Your attorney will be able to explain why you have the only batch of money bands made, that were stolen in a bank robbery,” Sam said. He stared at him, unwavering, and said, “Take your money and go. We’ll work this out later, let the Bank of Santa Fe decide whether or not to charge you with robbery.”
Grissin considered it for a moment, then laughed out loud and said, “Whew, you had me going there, Ranger.” He stooped to pick up the bag of money. But then he looked all around and said to the ranger, “Are you the only lawman one who knows about this—the money bands, that is?”
Sam gave a thin, crafty trace of a smile. “What does it matter? You’ve got nothing to worry about, being innocent.”
“I don’t believe you, Ranger,” he said. Again he started to raise the bag; again he stopped. He kept his hand off the handle as if denying it belonged to him for a moment. He looked over at Clayton Longworth. “Hey, you ought to know about this, Detective Chief Longworth. Tell me something to earn your pay. Is any of this true?”
Longworth looked at Sam closely, their eyes meeting with some secret understanding between the two of them. Sam waited, neither his eyes nor his countenance wavering. “Yes, it’s true,” Longworth said at length.
Grissin flared. “Damn it, man, why didn’t you tell me about this before now?”
“I figured you already knew it,” said Longworth. “I haven’t seen the money, I never figured anybody to be fool enough to ship stolen stacks of dollars with identifiable bands still around them.”
“It appears some fool would . . . ,” Duvall whispered to himself, a look of disgust coming to his hard, chiseled face.
Grissin stood opening and closing his fists, considering what to do. As long as the ranger held those bands as evidence, he knew he would be on the hook for the Santa Fe bank robbery. He looked at Sam, seeing in his eyes that both of their thoughts were the same. If he killed the ranger right here, right now, this would never go any further.
“Easy . . . ,” Duvall purred in a gravel
ly voice, as if reading Grissin’s deadly thoughts. “Take the money and walk away,” he cautioned him. “Do that and you’re the winner here.”
Grissin had to shake his head a bit to jar his mind away from killing. “You’re right,” he said to Duvall, “I’m walking away.” He stooped enough to pick up the money bag, turned and took a step toward his horse.
“See you in court,” the ranger said quietly.
Grissin stopped cold. The bag hit the ground at his feet. “Damn you to hell, Burrack!” he bellowed, coming around fast, his Remington rising, cocking on the upswing.
Chapter 25
Maria saw Grissin coming around toward Sam. She had her Colt out and ready. But she knew Sam didn’t want her help, only her backup. This was between him and Davin Grissin, nobody else. In a split second it came to her what the ranger had done. He had become lawman, judge and jury at a point in time where he’d seen that his was the only justice to be had. He had allowed Grissin to try himself in his own mind, and in doing so, Grissin had declared himself guilty.
The drovers had seen Grissin’s move coming too, and like Maria they stood prepared, ready if the ranger needed them. Yet they all four knew without saying, without being told that this was no longer their fight; it had stopped being that once the ranger had walked into the clearing.
When Grissin had made a full turn, facing the ranger, his Remington up and aimed, Sam let the hammer fall on his big Colt with sudden finality. The shot roared up against the rocky hillside and rolled off like a hard clap of thunder. Grissin flew backward. He bounced off the canvas money bag and landed on the rocky ground, before the last of the gunshot had swept itself away over the rugged terrain.
Sam turned the Colt quickly and fired again, seeing Tillman Duvall make a move for his revolver. His second shot nailed the bodyguard in his chest and sent him flying backward. Duvall landed with a hard jolt beside his downed employer.