Mort Glick and Johnny Leach had just ridden around the bend in the trail when the horse and rider, sitting sideway across the roadway blocking their escape, came into view. Instinctively, both men hauled back on reins bringing their mounts to a sliding halt.
“What the hell?” Mort gasped, reaching for his sixgun while trying to bring his horse under control. A cloud of settling dust half enveloped both him and Johnny.
“Don’t even think about it?” A voice with a mild southern drawl boomed. Caleb Gant sat rock still in the saddle, his Winchester out and held point blank at the two men.
As realization came over them, Mort stammered, “Caleb! What are you doing out here? And why are you pointing that gun at us?”
“I could ask you what you’re doing out here,” Caleb answered. “But, I already know.”
“Know? Know what?” Mort knew exactly what Gant meant, but pretending to not know was worth a shot, although he was quite certain, it wasn’t.”
“Thought you’d beat me to it, didn’t you boys?” Caleb accused. “While I was out of the way, you figured you’d come out here and take Dave Bishop off the stage. Get him to fork over the money he owes us. Only, you figured you take my share to. Cut me out of the deal.”
“That...that’s not quite right,” Mort denied. “We knew you couldn’t do it, so we thought we’d do it for you. We were going to give you your share when we could. By the way, how did you get out of jail, anyways?”
“How I got out doesn’t matter.” He wasn’t about to explain that the sheriff had put him in jail for the night as protection from the Lowery brothers, if they returned to town. Jeanne Harding had been the one who had found Dirk Bennett’s body and the rifle. She had probably found it when she rode back home from the abandoned shack. The trail was close by. At the time, she wasn’t aware that the rifle belonged to Caleb, but she was sure Caleb had not been the killer, for she had just left him. Randall had kept him in jail for the night and in the morning, he ordered Gant out of town before there could be any trouble with the Lowery brothers, if they returned. Caleb acquiesced and rode out. He had already surmised what Glick and Leach might be up to.
“And I don’t believe for a minute, you were going to cut me in on your deal.” Gant continued. “Besides, you went about it all wrong.”
“You bet we did,” Johnny Leach put in. “Bishop wasn’t even on that stage.”
“I could have told you that,” Caleb said flatly. “You went off half-cocked, thinking you could cut me out.”
“You know better than that, Caleb. We were just……”
“I know what you were just, so give it up. Now toss your guns down. Now!” He jacked a round into the chamber. He had waited to do that for the effect.
“You can’t do this…!” Johnny Leach started to blurt.
“Forget it, Johnny,” Mort ordered. “Do as he said.” He reached for his own gun.
“Carefully! Two fingers!” Gant ordered sternly as Glick’s pistol lifted halfway out of the holster. His fingers relaxed on the grip and he lifted the weapon slowly until it cleared leather, let it swing out away from his body and let it fall in the dirt near his horse’s front hooves. The animal shied slightly.
Reluctantly Johnny Leach lifted his Colt also and let it drop.
Caleb turned his mount sideways, moving back and counterclockwise away from his captives until he was almost behind them. He flourished his weapon. “Now ride forward, slowly until I tell you to halt. Be careful! You don’t want me to misjudge your moves. I might get nervous and shoot you by mistake and you might not like that, would you?”
Mort forced a wry smile and gigged his mount forward. Johnny followed, but his face was still grim.
A short distance down the trail, Gant called a halt. The two men drew up. Now get off your horses and hand me the reins. Caleb brought his mount up alongside them and a bit in front. He sidled the animal around to face them.
He kept his pistol on them with one hand and took the reins from them after they dismounted. “Now, head back to town and wait for me. Do like I tell you and I’ll keep you in on the deal.”
“What deal?” Mort queried. “I...I thought………”
“Don’t think. You might hurt yourself. I’ll tell you all about it later. For now, just get going.” He pulled his horse back, leading the other two horses with him.
“You’re taking our horses?” Mort blustered. “How’re we going to get back to town?”
Caleb squeezed the trigger of his Colt and a bullet dug up dirt in front of Glick’s boot. He jumped back out of reflex; a mixture of anger and fear on his face.
“Jesus!” Johnny Leach bellowed, jumping back also. “What the Hell are you doing?”
“I didn’t hurt your foot none, Mort,” Caleb mused. “Guess you know how to make it work. Just put one foot in front of the other.”
“You’re makin’ us walk?” Leach blustered, eyes blazing.
“Guess you’re not as dumb as I thought you were, Johnny,” Caleb quipped. “I do believe you’re finally getting the general idea.” He clicked back the hammer of his pistol and leveled it at Leach. Leach took a half step backward, staring warily at the gaping maw of the pistol barrel. Gant could see that he wanted to mouth off, but wisely was reluctant to do so.
“After I’m gone,” Caleb said. “You might want to go back and pick of your guns. You might need them. Just not on me, you understand.”
Both men nodded.
“And you might just watch out for any posse you might meet on the way to town. When that stage gets in, they just might send one out. Just remember, that stage driver might just point you two out, so I suggest you stay out of sight for a while when you get back to town. Wait for me and I’ll tell you what to do next. Keep your guns to yourself and don’t cross me. Not if you still want in on the deal.” Then he added, “And if you still want to stay alive.” He pulled the dun away, prodded his flanks and rode off down the trail, leading the two saddled horses, in the direction Glick and Leach had come from.
“Look! They’re coming back!” Angie Bishop shouted as she saw Gant and the two extra horses coming around the bend. “No! Maybe it’s somebody else. “There’s three of them!” Enough of a dust cloud hid the fact that two of the horses were riderless.
Dave Bishop followed her gaze and as Gant approached, he said. “There’s only one rider. And he’s leading two riderless horses.” Then as Gant came really close, he said. “Look he’s got the horses those other men were riding!”
“You think the bandit got those men?” Angie asked. “Maybe this is the bandit coming back for us.”
“No,” Bishop said. “This is someone else.”
“Maybe he’s in with the bandit,” Angie whispered almost conspiratorially.
Bishop stiffened. “We’ll just have to be careful.”
They both stood still, silent, and watching as the rider came to a halt in front of them.
“Looks like you two need some help,” Caleb called, shifting his weight in the saddle and leaning on the saddle horn.
Both Bishop and Angie looked up toward the ridge where The Whispering Bandit had been. They saw nothing, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still lurking about.
“Mister, if you’re here to help us, you might better think twice about it. The last riders we met up with got themselves shot up by the owlhoot that left us stranded out here. He’s been watching us from that ridge up there. “Bishop glanced back up on the ridge. There was still no sign of the bandit. Gant followed his gaze. “It doesn’t appear that he wants us to be rescued.” Bishop said. Then pointing to the horses. “Those are the horses that the other two riders, who tried to help us, were riding. What happened to them?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Caleb said. “They won’t be needing them.”
Bishop and Angie just looked at each other, imagining the worst. “You.. you mean?” Angie stammered.
“Best you both mount up and let’s get away from here!” Caleb ordered.
They bot
h glanced toward the ridge again.
“If he’s still up there, we’ll find out when you try to mount. Now get to it!” He pulled the two saddled horses forward and held out the reins.
Bishop helped Angie into the saddle. She hiked her gown so she could sit astride. She kicked off her shoes and slipped her feet into the stirrups.
No rifle fire came from the ridge. Maybe The Whispering Bandit was gone after all. “All right, let’s get out of here!” Gant shouted, twisting his horse around and sending him forward while Bishop was still settling himself in his saddle. He followed after. Gant was heading off the trail to the left and north eastward. Angie was trying her best to keep up on his right side; her horse almost to a full gallop.
As Bishop caught up, swinging to Gant’s left side, he shouted, “This isn’t the way to town!” His face looked anxious.
Caleb slowed and pulled up to a halt. There had been no report from the ridge and no sign of the bandit. There was no reason to fear further reprisal.
“This isn’t the way to town!” Bishop repeated bringing his horse to a halt alongside.
“We’re not going to town,” Gant said, starting his horse forward, once again, but at a walk.
Bishop and Angie followed along.
“Why not? Where are we going?” Bishop demanded. His voice was high pitched with concern.
“Ladder A. I need to talk with you before we go to town.”
“Talk to me? What about? Who are you anyways? And who were those other two men?”
“If you were who you were supposed to be, you’d know.”
The man calling himself Dave Bishop stiffened in the saddle. His face paled. He pushed his horse close to Gant and tried to keep his voice down.
“What… what do you mean?”
“You know what I mean. You want me to spell it out for you?” Caleb didn’t bother to lower his voice. His eyes shifted to the right toward Angie. There was an expectant look on her face. “You want her to hear this?” This time Gant lowered his voice and leaned toward Bishop.
“No. No,” Bishop said, still keeping his voice low. “Of course not. What do you want?”
****
Chapter Seventeen
The Whispering Bandit Page 16