Drummond Takes a Hand

by Alan Irwin

  ‘Howdy,’ said the big stranger. ‘Your man around?’

  ‘He’s took sick,’ said Mrs Sinclair. ‘He’s in bed. What did you want with him?’

  The men did not reply. They pushed the woman back into the house, then bundled her into the bedroom. Each of them was holding a six-gun in his right hand. Alarmed, Anne, who had been sitting by the bed, rose to her feet as they came into the room.

  ‘Who’s this?’ asked the big man, looking at Anne.

  ‘She’s just brought some medicine from the doctor in Laringo,’ the homesteader’s wife replied. ‘What d’you want from us?’

  ‘We ain’t eaten for quite a spell,’ he replied, ‘so you can whip up a meal for us. And when we leave, we’ll be taking one of your horses with us, on account of one of ours is lame. You can get started on that meal right now. And don’t do anything foolish or I’ll have to beat up this man of yours.’

  Sinclair’s wife went into the kitchen, followed by the short man, and hastily prepared a meal. The big man stayed in the bedroom, guarding Anne and Sinclair. Leering at Anne, he tried, unsuccessfully, to draw her into conversation. When the meal was ready it was brought into the bedroom and there the two men wolfed it down. During the meal, much to Anne’s discomfort, the big man’s gaze settled on her from time to time. When the meal was over he spoke to her.

  ‘Just one thing to do now before we leave,’ he said. ‘It’s quite a while since I had any female company. I reckon we should get better acquainted. We’ll go over to the barn. It’s more private there.’

  He moved towards Anne, who was preparing to resist him as best she could. Then he halted as through the partly open window he caught sight of Will riding up to the house. He also saw that Will was armed.

  ‘Watch these three,’ he said to his partner. ‘We’ve got company. If either of these women tries to raise the alarm, shoot her.’

  He holstered his gun and went outside. Will, who had just dismounted, stood facing him. Will knew immediately that this armed man was not a homesteader. In fact, based on his previous experience, he thought it very likely that he was looking at a criminal. He wondered what the man was doing here, and where was the man who had been riding the second horse at the hitching-rail? He sensed the danger in the air.

  ‘I’d be obliged for some water for my horse,’ he said, ‘and for directions to Laringo.’

  The big man pointed to a nearby water trough. ‘Help yourself,’ he said, ‘and Laringo’s about eight miles due south of here.’

  He watched Will closely as he watered his horse.

  In the bedroom, Sinclair, who had been lying unconscious since the arrival of the two strangers, opened his eyes. He saw a man pointing a gun at his wife and Anne. The man’s back was partly turned towards him, and he sat up and made a grab for the gun. But he was too weak to succeed, and the stranger turned and pistol-whipped him on the head. He fell back on the bed, and lay there, motionless. His wife screamed and ran towards him, but pulled up short as the stranger’s gun was jammed into her body. Anne stayed still, fearing that any move on her part would cause the man to trigger his gun.

  As Will finished watering his horse, he heard the shrill scream through the partly open window of the bedroom. He was facing Lloyd, the man standing near the door watching him.

  ‘Somebody in trouble in there?’ he asked.

  ‘None of your business,’ said Lloyd. ‘You’d best be moving on.’

  ‘Not just yet,’ said Will. ‘I aim to take a look inside.’

  The man facing Will went for his gun, but Will was ready for him. His draw was just a shade faster than that of his opponent, who collapsed on the ground with a bullet through the heart. Quickly, Will checked that the man lying on the ground was dead. Then he went up to the door, where he was out of sight of anybody who might be standing at the bedroom window. He guessed that the man he had just shot had a partner who was in the bedroom.

  He entered the house and approached the bedroom door, which was slightly ajar. He paused as he heard, coming from inside the room, the voice of Randle, partner of the dead man lying outside. Randle had heard the gunshot.

  ‘You all right, Jed?’ he shouted.

  ‘Jed ain’t in no fit state to answer,’ Will shouted back. ‘He pulled a gun on me, but he weren’t fast enough. You’d best throw your gun down and come out with your hands up.’

  Inside the bedroom Randle, who was standing close to Anne, with his six-gun in his hand, suddenly moved up to her, clamped his arm around her neck, and held the end of the barrel of his gun against the side of her head. The hammer was cocked. Anne realized the danger of struggling, and forced herself to stay calm.

  ‘I’m holding a woman in here, with a gun against her head,’ shouted Randle, ‘and the hammer’s cocked. We’re coming out now. But first I want you to drop your gun just inside this room.’

  Will ran softly to Lloyd’s body and picked up the gun lying on the ground nearby. He tucked this gun out of sight underneath the back of his belt, where it was concealed by his vest. Then he ran softly back to the door of the bedroom, and dropped his own weapon just inside.

  A moment later, Randle pulled the door open with his foot and ordered Mrs Sinclair to walk out, in front of him and Anne. He told Will and the homesteader’s wife to go outside, then followed them, still holding his prisoner. He saw his partner’s body lying on the ground.

  ‘We’re going for a ride in the buggy,’ he said to Anne, releasing his hold on her, ‘and if anybody follows us, you’ll be shot. Climb on the buggy now. You’ll be doing the driving.’

  With Will and Mrs Sinclair watching, and Randle pointing the gun at her head, Anne put her right foot on the step, then her left foot on to the floor of the buggy. She raised her right foot to follow the left, then suddenly kicked backwards with all her strength, then immediately dropped on to the floor of the buggy, in front of the seat. The blow in the groin from the heel of Anne’s boot raised a howl of pain from Randle which coincided with the firing of his gun. The bullet passed harmlessly through the space occupied by Anne’s head a moment before. Still holding his gun, and with his eyes watering profusely, Randle dropped to his knees on the ground. Startled by the gunshot, the horse which was hitched to the buggy took off, and the buggy moved rapidly away from the house.

  Will reached behind his back for the gun tucked under his belt, and tried to slide it out. But the front sight on top of the barrel caught on his belt, and by the time he had freed it, Randle had stood up and turned to face him. The two men fired at the same time. A bullet plucked the side of Will’s vest, before passing harmlessly on. His opponent staggered back as a bullet drilled into his chest. Then he collapsed on the ground, dropping his gun.

  Will ran up to him and picked up the weapon. Then he looked to see how far the buggy had gone. Relieved, he saw that it had turned, and was now heading for the house. Anne was obviously in control. As he bent down to look at the man he had just shot, Randle drew his last breath. Will straightened up and awaited the arrival of the buggy, while Mrs Sinclair rushed in to tend to her husband.

  As Anne drew near to the house, she saw Will waiting for her. Behind him, lying on the ground, were the two men who had held her and the Sinclairs prisoner. She brought the buggy to a stop, and Will helped her out.

  ‘Those two lying there ain’t going to trouble nobody no more,’ he said. ‘And you had a big hand in that. I sure admire the way you got the better of the man who was aiming to ride off with you. That took some grit.’

  ‘I wasn’t thinking clear at the time,’ said Anne, still somewhat unnerved by recent happenings. ‘Just didn’t fancy the idea of taking a ride with a man like that. We sure were lucky you happened along. I’m Anne Kincaid. My brother Andrew is the doctor in Laringo.’

  ‘Will Drummond,’ said Will. ‘Just passing by, on the way to Laringo.’

  ‘I must see to Mr Sinclair,’ she said. ‘He’s in bed with a fever. And one of those two hit him on the head.’

 
She ran into the house. Will followed her into the bedroom. The homesteader, his wife by his side, was still unconscious, with an angry bruise showing on his head.

  ‘I need to get my brother here as soon as I can,’ said Anne, ‘but I think I should stay with the patient till he gets here.’

  I’ll drag those two bodies in the barn,’ said Will, ‘then I’ll ride to Laringo as fast as I can. What do I tell your brother?’

  ‘Say Mr Sinclair’s got a very high temperature, with unconscious spells,’ said Anne, ‘and on top of that he’s been pistol-whipped on the head.’

  *

  When Will reached Laringo, he soon located the doctor’s house near the middle of town. It was a well-built painted timber structure, with a neat fenced-in garden at the front. He found the doctor inside, and quickly explained the situation to him.

  ‘I’ll leave now,’ said Kincaid. ‘I’ll pick up a horse at the livery stable. The liveryman will arrange for those two bodies to be picked up. D’you reckon they were outlaws?’

  ‘I think it’s very likely,’ Will replied.

  ‘We owe you a lot,’ said Kincaid. ‘If you’re aiming to stay here for a while, Anne and I will see you when we get back. Meantime, come with me to the livery stable. I’d like you to meet the liveryman, Ike Mason. He’s a good friend of mine. You can tell him yourself what happened at the homestead.’

  They went to the stable, where the doctor quickly introduced Will to Mason, then made a hurried departure. Will recounted the recent events at the homestead, and asked if the two bodies could be collected from the barn.

  ‘The blacksmith next door does all the undertaking around here,’ said Mason. ‘I’ll go see him right away.’

  ‘I’ll hang around here till you get back,’ said Will. ‘There’s some information you might be able to give me.’

  When Mason returned, Will asked him if he knew anybody called Frost in or around Laringo.

  ‘I only know one man of that name,’ the liveryman replied. ‘That’s Frost the telegraph operator. He also acts as an agent for Wells Fargo. You can see the telegraph office across the street. He lives in the little house next door.’

  ‘What sort of a man is he?’ asked Will.

  ‘He’s single,’ Mason replied, ‘and he spends a lot of time in the saloon. Likes a game of cards, and sometimes loses heavily, so they say. Takes a long ride out of town now and then. Don’t know where he goes. He’s been here about a year. I’d say he was in his middle-thirties.’

  ‘That’s very interesting,’ said Will, then went on to give a detailed description of the two dead men, on whom he had found no indication of their identities.

  ‘D’you know those two?’ he asked.

  Mason said that they were strangers to him. Will asked him not to mention to anyone that he had been asking questions about Frost. Then he went to the hotel, which was close by, on the same side of the street. He took a room which overlooked the street and gave a clear view of the telegraph office and adjoining house. He sat down by the window, and considered the situation.

  It seemed almost certain that Luke Brent’s telegraph message had been intended for Frost, the telegraph operator, who had passed on to a criminal acquaintance of Brent’s the information that it contained. And this criminal was probably hiding out not far from Laringo. And was the fact that Frost was a Wells Fargo agent significant? Was he passing on information about valuable Wells Fargo shipments?

  It was now dark outside, and Will went to the hotel dining-room for a meal. When he had finished, he went upstairs to his room. At around the same time Frost walked into the saloon, where the talk was about the events at the Sinclair homestead earlier that day. He listened as a townsman who had been talking to the liveryman described the events, mentioning that the two dead men were strangers, one tall and heavily-built, the other much shorter. He added that the blacksmith had gone to pick up the bodies.

  The brief description of the two dead men caught Frost’s attention. He himself was being paid by the leader of a gang of outlaws for information about Wells Fargo shipments, and for other services. He knew that two members of the gang, Lloyd and Randle, were due to rejoin Curtis, the leader, at his hide-out, after a brief absence. Frost had once met the two men at the hide-out, and they tallied with the rough description he had just heard. He decided that he had to find out if Lloyd and Randle were, in fact, dead, so that he could let Curtis know.

  He went back to his house, and kept watch on the blacksmith’s shop for the return of the buckboard carrying the two bodies. It arrived an hour before midnight. The two men on the driver’s seat climbed down and carried the two bodies inside. One of them came out shortly after, but it was an hour before Frost saw the blacksmith himself leave and go to his house.

  Frost waited another half-hour, then slipped out of his house on to the deserted street. He entered the blacksmith’s shop, which was not normally secured, and found the two bodies lying on the floor, under a canvas sheet. He pulled the sheet back to reveal the heads, then struck a match. Immediately, he could see that the bodies were those of Lloyd and Randle. He pulled the sheet back in position and returned, unobserved, to his house. He decided that he would take some time off the following day in order to ride to advise Curtis of the loss of two of his men. And before he left, he would find out more about the man who had killed them.

  TEN

  When Frost woke on the morning after his identification of the two bodies, he had breakfast. Then he walked along to see Daley, the blacksmith. He had heard the previous evening that the man who had killed Lloyd and Randle was called Drummond. He told Daley that he had been friendly with a man of that name when he was working in Amarillo, and he asked the blacksmith to describe him.

  ‘No need for that,’ said Daley. ‘See for yourself. He’s over there, coming out of the hotel with the doctor.’

  Frost looked closely at Will as he walked along the street, then into the doctor’s house. Then he turned to Daley.

  ‘That’s not my friend,’ he said. ‘He’s not like him at all. Is he staying on in town?’

  ‘For a short while, as far as I know,’ Daley replied.

  Inside the doctor’s house, to which Will had been invited by Kincaid, Will sat down with Andrew and Anne. They both thanked him for his intervention at the homestead the previous day, then told him that Sinclair’s fever had broken the previous evening, and despite the knock on the head, he was recovering well.

  ‘Are you staying in town for a while, Mr Drummond?’ asked Anne who, despite their short acquaintance, felt strongly attracted to the stranger.

  ‘For a few days at least,’ replied Will, thinking that this was a woman he would like to have the chance of knowing much better. He decided to tell her and her brother of the reason for his presence in the area, starting with the death of his brother.

  ‘I’m pretty sure,’ he went on, ‘that Frost is in cahoots with criminals hiding somewhere around here, and I think it’s likely that Luke Brent is either with them now, or will be soon. The next time Frost rides out of town, I aim to follow him.’

  ‘Frost keeps his horse at the livery stable,’ said the doctor. ‘If you tell your story to Ike Mason, the liveryman, I can guarantee that like us, he’ll keep it to himself. And he’d let you know immediately Frost leaves town on one of his rides. Shall I bring him here?’

  Will agreed, and so it was arranged with Mason.

  Will left soon after, and when he had gone Kincaid looked closely at his sister.

  ‘I know you pretty well, Anne,’ he said, ‘and I reckon you’ve taken a shine to Drummond. Am I right?’

  ‘You don’t miss much, do you?’ Anne said, smiling. ‘He’s different from the men I meet around here. He carries a gun and obviously knows how to use it. But he uses it to uphold the law. I think he’s a good man.’

  ‘I feel the same way myself,’ said the doctor. ‘It’s a dangerous job he’s taken on. Let’s hope he manages to pull it off.’

  Rath
er sooner than expected, the liveryman brought the news to Will at the hotel, half an hour after noon, that Frost had just ridden off.

  ‘He’s heading east,’ said Mason. ‘Your horse is saddled and ready to go.’

  Will went back with him to the stable, taking a pair of high-powered field-glasses with him. He rode to the edge of town, then stopped and watched the distant rider until he disappeared from view over the top of a distant rise. He waited for a short while, then rode fast to the rise, dismounted near the top, and crawled forward until he could see the ground on the far side.

  He was just in time to see Frost riding through a gap in a low ridge ahead. He continued to shadow him, noticing that the man ahead of him appeared to have no suspicion that he might be followed. They had travelled about fourteen miles in an easterly direction, and were in an area of rough ground, far from any recognized trails, when Will, watching from cover, saw Frost ride up to the entrance to a narrow ravine, and stop. As he did so, a man appeared from behind a large boulder standing at the top of the wall of the ravine. A moment later, he appeared to wave the rider on, and Frost disappeared from view, while the man retreated behind the boulder.

  Will stayed where he was, confident that he had located the hide-out of the gang which Luke Brent had intended to join, and aware that he could not continue any further, in daylight, without being spotted.

  Waved on by Jackson, one of the Curtis gang, Frost rode on up the ravine, towards an old, long-abandoned shack. Two men were seated on the ground outside. They were Curtis, and Lester, a member of his gang. Curtis, a slim man of average height, had a long cruel face, and there was a menacing look about him. Frost rode up, dismounted, and joined the two men.

  ‘It’s bad news,’ he said, and went on to tell the outlaw leader about the deaths of two of his men, Lloyd and Randle.