by Will Cook
“I don’t think there’s anyone here you can’t trust,” Manners said. “Besides, it’ll save me from telling them later.”
Early appeared nervous, and he licked his lips. “I hardly know where to begin, really. The whole thing is so shocking, so monstrous.”
“You just tell me and let me decide,” Manners said.
Early looked at each of them, then said: “I believe, much to my horror, that I can tell you who is getting firearms to the bandits.”
He waited for the shock of this to take effect. Manners merely puffed on his cigar, and McCabe went on paring his fingernails. Hinshaw and Grady said nothing at all.
Again Early looked at each of them. “I’m not joking.”
“I’m sure you’re not,” Manners said. “But we hear so many accounts of treachery and violence that we’re hardened to it. Go on.”
“You all know that I am a businessman. In addition to my local trade I operate a mail-order business. These last few years the paperwork began to mount up, and it was either neglect the local trade or take on a partner to handle the mailorder business.” He paused for several minutes, then spoke in a much softer voice. “I took Joe Sanders into the company, much to my sorrow.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “This is difficult for me, Major… he’s soon to be my father-in-law.”
“We appreciate the difficulty,” Manners said. “But let’s have the whole of it.”
“Quite by accident,” Early said, “I was searching some back files for records four and five years old. I rarely go into them, and I came across these.” He patted the satchel. “Immediately I saw that the merchandise ordered and delivered to my loading platform far exceeded the material sold over my counter or through legitimate mail-order channels. Indeed, the weight of many crates indicated that they bore firearms and ammunition rather than the line of cutlery and imported goods I generally handle.” Again he patted the suitcase. “These bills of lading, invoices on shipments, were handled solely by Joe Sanders. Once my mind began working on the problem, it became horribly simple to see what was happening under my very nose. Sanders’s wagons hauled all the merchandise from either the depot to my store, or from Corpus Christi to my store. His men handled it, unloaded it, uncrated it, and his men packed goods for shipment. Joe Sanders handled all the paperwork.” He struck his hand angrily against the satchel. “To think that he’s used me, all the while living on the fringe of poverty with that dear sweet girl working to support him while he hid his riches from this horrible business . . . it makes me almost ill.”
“Don’t throw up on the floor,” Grady said dryly.
Early stared at him.
Manners said: “Mister Early, I trust you intend to leave those papers here for our examination?”
“Yes. Naturally.”
“Then return to your business and leave this to us,” Manners said. “In no way let Joe Sanders know that you suspect a thing. We’ll lay a trap for him, catch him red-handed.” He got up from behind his desk and offered a hand. “It’s through civic, high-minded men like you, Mister Early, that we will bring peace and law to this troubled patch of Texas. We owe you our great debt of gratitude.”
“I was only doing my duty,” Early said. His expression grew impressively sad. “That dear sweet girl. If only the truth could be withheld from her.”
“I’m sure,” Manners said, “that she never need know the whole truth, if you know what I mean. I’m sure that you can, with patience, Mister Early, and great love, ease her over the shock.”
“Thank you, sir,” Early said humbly. “Major, I’m very sorry for the things I said and my attitude when I called on behalf of the citizens.”
“I understood at the time,” Manners said, and escorted Early to the door. He went out to the porch, watched him get in his car, and then came back in and toed the door closed.
“Boy,” Grady said, “if I could lie like that, I’d have a bottle in one hand, a woman on my lap, and not a worry in the world.”
“There’s a strong chance that he’s telling the whole truth,” McCabe said. He looked at Hinshaw. “You’re with Grady?”
“All the damned way,” Hinshaw said. “Major, you didn’t believe a word of it, did you?”
“I go by facts,” Manners said. “I don’t make my judgment of a man because I like the girl he’s engaged to.” He pointed to the satchel. “Hand me that. I’ll go through this stuff, and, if I think there’s enough to arrest him on, I’ll have Sanders brought in.” He took out his watch and looked at it. “I understand the judge is leaving on the five o’clock train. Grady, clean up and get into some decent clothes and ride to town. Ask him to stay over another week. We may need him badly.”
Grady and Hinshaw left the office together and walked to the barracks. Hinshaw said: “Every time I get ready to teach you some manners, you up and say something that makes me like you. That’s frustrating as hell.”
“You shouldn’t let that stop you,” Grady said. “You want to teach me something, squirt, then you just go ahead.”
“There you go again, destroying that nice feeling I had.”
They carried water for each other, took baths, shaved, and changed into clothes that were clean and unpatched. Since Grady was going to town and Hinshaw wanted to go along, he asked the major for permission. Since Manners was in a mellow frame of mind, he granted it.
They rode out together, stopped at the saloon for a drink, then went to the hotel to deliver Manners’s request to the judge. Hinshaw’s relationship with the bench had always been uncertain. He waited in the hall for Grady to conclude his business.
They found themselves on the street with time on their hands. Hinshaw said: “I think I’ll go see Batiste Rameras. It’s been some years.”
Grady frowned. “Better stay away. If there’s trouble, the major won’t like it.”
“Hell, there was trouble before the major ever came into my life,” Hinshaw said.
Rameras’s place was easy to find, and Hinshaw went in, followed by Bill Grady. The Mexican was behind the counter, and he looked at Hinshaw a moment before a full recognition came to him. Then Rameras’s heavy face pulled into solid planes.
Hinshaw said: “It’s been a long time, greaser. There’s one Hinshaw and one Rameras l e ft . . . which is one too many.”
“I will not quarrel with the law,” Rameras said.
Hinshaw took off his badge and gun belt and handed them to Grady. “You watch him, Bill. He likes a knife.”
“There won’t be any of that,” Grady said. “You’re a fool, squirt. The old man will throw you in the stockade for this.”
“Who cares? Are you coming out from behind the counter, spik, or do I have to come back there and get you?”
Rameras laughed. “I will come to you gladly.”
He ran around the end of the counter, and Hinshaw found that he just couldn’t wait. He rushed to meet Rameras, and they met with surprising impact. Rameras tried to grab Hinshaw around the neck, but the smaller man ducked away and smashed Rameras flush in the mouth. Rameras kited back, bounced against the counter with enough force to move it ten inches, then spat out a tooth and some blood.
When he came at Hinshaw, he came with a quirt snatched from a quill of them on the counter. He opened a cut on Hinshaw’s shoulder with it. There was nothing to do but retreat and get cut, and Hinshaw did it, backing to the door, taking the blows on his arms as much as he could. The quirt opened angry cuts and tore his shirt to ribbons from shoulder to wrist, then he was outside, and a crowd was gathering.
At first the quirt hurt him terribly, then there was no more pain, and he just reached out with his hands and grabbed it and gripped hard so it wouldn’t slip in the blood. He jerked Rameras clean off the porch, wheeling away as he pulled so that Rameras’s weight came full on the hitch rack, splitting the long pole, and dropping him to the dirt. Without hesitation Hinshaw picked up a two-foot length of the wood. He never let Rameras get to his feet. He broke his shoulder and opened h
is scalp, and, as Rameras fell, he smashed him alongside the jaw, then threw the piece of wood away.
The crowd stood there, making no sound at all. No one offered to look at Rameras to see if he was dead or not. Hinshaw looked at the downed man, and he was sorry that it had ended so quickly, for he found no satisfaction in this at all.
Bill Grady said: “Was it worth it, squirt?”
Hinshaw turned slowly to look at Grady. The buildings started to lean crazily, and, when he collapsed, Grady caught him and held him.
“Where’s the doctor’s office?” Grady asked.
A bystander said: “Two blocks down and one to your right. But he ain’t there.”
“Where the hell is he?” Grady wanted to know.
The man thought a minute. “Over to Joe Sanders’s place, I guess. He likes his checker games.”
“Thanks,” Grady said, and hoisted Hinshaw to his shoulder.
He hurried down the street, watching for loose boards in the walk so he wouldn’t stumble and fall. The damned young fool, Grady thought. All that hurt for nothing. But there was no telling him anything. Had to learn it all himself. The squirt.
Sanders and the doctor were on the porch. Ella came out as Grady brought Hinshaw to the porch.
“Take him inside,” the doctor said, opening the door.
“What happened?” Ella asked.
“He had a fight,” Grady said. “With Batiste Rameras.”
“What about?”
Grady put Hinshaw on the horsehair sofa, and the doctor brushed him aside so he could work. “Get my bag,” he said. “It’s in the hallway.”
Ella got it, and gave it to him. “I asked you what about?” she queried Grady again.
Bill Grady shook his head. “I don’t think he even knew. Maybe it was because he just had to lick Rameras once. Now he knows it wasn’t any good. It never is. Why is it a man can’t get smart without getting hurt?”
Chapter Sixteen
Dr. Garrett left the Sanders house to go uptown and tend to Batiste Rameras. Ella Sanders was quite capable of getting Hinshaw on his feet. A shot of Joe Sanders’s whisky helped. After Hinshaw was sitting up, she got one of her father’s shirts to replace his ruined one.
“Some fight,” Bill Grady said, and Hinshaw looked around at him.
“I remember him falling before I did,” Hinshaw said.
“Yeah, you whipped him. Wait until the major hears about this.” He tossed Hinshaw’s gun belt and badge on the sofa. “I knew you wouldn’t remember where you put ’em, so I brought ’em along. How do you feel?”
“Like my arms are afire.”
“You took a whipping before you got to him,” Grady said. He glanced at Ella Sanders. “I guess I’ll go out and finish a checker game on the porch. Whistle when you’re ready to leave.”
After the front door slammed, Hinshaw said: “It seems that every time we meet I’ve been fighting. I’m good for other things, you know.”
“No, I didn’t know,” she said. She smiled. “Yes, I really did know. Did it help your grudge any?”
He shook his head. “Not a bit.” He got up, and stood unsteadily for a moment. “Seen Mister Early?”
“Yes.”
“When’s the wedding?”
“In the fall,” she said. “Does it matter to you, Marty?”
“It might to you,” he said, and let the puzzled expression on her face remain there. “Ella, I had no idea I’d end up here in your parlor, but since I am here, I’d like to talk to you.”
“All right, Marty.”
“Do you suppose we could go and sit on the back porch?”
She hesitated, then nodded, and went through the house. They sat on the steps where the shade was good and cool, and he rolled a cigarette before saying anything.
“Some of the things I’m going to ask are going to sound strange to you, but I’d like straight answers.”
“It’s the only kind I give, Marty.”
“I hear that your dad’s a partner with Fred Early. He must be doing pretty good with all Early’s mail-order business.”
“It’s constantly expanding,” she said. “Dad pours the profit back into the business. I don’t understand a lot about it because I’m gone so much, and Fred doesn’t discuss his business with me.” She smiled faintly. “He has some old-fashioned notion that a woman’s mind is incapable of understanding the ramifications of commerce. Why do you ask?”
“Curious mostly. It sounds like a real good thing… your dad being able to handle the paperwork right here at home. But knowing you, I can guess that he gets a lot of help.”
“Actually I’ve never helped him at all,” Ella said. “Dad’s the first to admit this, and I think he’s even proud of it, but he never had a chance to finish the second grade in school. He can’t read much at all, except figures. He always said that all a man had to know was how to multiply, add, and subtract. His writing is even worse. Watch him sign his name sometimes. He draws it like a picture.” She folded her hands around her raised knees. “I’ve always thought that Fred took him on because of me. You know, his being almost one of the family. But it gives him something to do, and it makes him feel like he’s worth something. It’s not easy to be crippled, Marty. At first, I wanted to help him, but he wouldn’t have it, and I was away most of the time on my job. Then I thought about it and just kept my nose out of it.”
“You’re a sensible girl, Ella.” He got up. “Well, I’ve raised my dust for today. Grady will want to be getting back.” He turned to the door and paused. “You’re going to marry Fred. Early. Do you love him?”
“Why, that’s a silly question. Would I marry a man I didn’t love?”
“I guess not. But what is it in him that you see, Ella?”
She thought about it. “I really don’t know. I suppose I’ll have to find out, won’t I?”
Grady had just lost his second game and was ready to leave before he lost another. They thanked Ella Sanders and her father and walked back toward the center of town to get their horses.
There was a sprinkle of loungers along both sides of the walk. They watched the two rangers while they untied their horses. Then Fred Early came out of his store and approached them. He took hold of the bridle of Hinshaw’s horse.
“You are aware, I suppose, that you have without provocation assaulted one of our oldest citizens,” Early said.
“If you don’t let go, I’m liable to assault another one,” Hinshaw said. “How is the spik? Flat on his back?”
“You really hurt him,” Early said. “Why?”
“Because the Rameras family taught me to hate them,” Hinshaw said. “Ask around. Someone may remember my old man. He killed the whole damned family except Batiste. I may take care of that, if he gets in my way.” He pulled his horse around and rode out of town, Bill Grady trailing him by three yards.
As soon as they returned to the ranger camp, Hinshaw put up the horses, then went to headquarters to speak to Major Carl Manners. He had to wait fifteen minutes in the outer office before Manners invited him inside.
“Major, there’s something important I’d like to discuss with you.”
“Anything discussed in this office had better be important, or I’ll have you tossed out. Sit down, Hinshaw, and make it brief.”
“It’s about what Fred Early said. I don’t know if you had a chance to look at those papers yet, but I figure Fred Early for just about the smartest crook that ever squatted over a pair of boots. The whole set-up was perfect for Early, Major. He found a man who was still in the freighting business, an old salty cuss who couldn’t read or write much. And the girl was out of town most of the time which gave Early all the leeway he wanted.”
“That’s not very plain,” Manners said. “Start again.”
“I’m not good at explaining,” Hinshaw said. “But this is how it works. Early wants to keep himself clear in case there’s trouble, so the easiest way to do it is to have a partner. A perfect partner, a man who’s uneducate
d, a man who’d trust him. All right, Joe Sanders is near perfect in that respect. He trusts Early on account of his daughter being engaged to him. And Early always makes a point to bring papers over for Sanders’s signature when the girl ain’t there to check anything.”
“That last is a guess, Hinshaw.”
“But damn’ close. Sanders is crippled. He can’t get around hardly at all, so it’s logical to figure that Early brings the stuff to him. Now ain’t that so?”
Manners rubbed his chin. “All right, I’ll accept that. So Sanders signs for everything. But if Early has been using him, why did he come here and inform on Sanders?”
“Because in some way he no longer needs Sanders, or he wants out, and now it’s time to get out with a clean shirt tail. That was the idea all along . . . to have Sanders as a partner for that time when the whole thing would be finished. That way Early could claim complete innocence while Sanders took the blame as the crooked partner.”
“It’s a theory, and that’s all,” Manners said. “But it’s a theory I’ll keep in mind. What’s the matter with your arms? They look fat.”
“ I . . . a h. . . got in a fight, Major. He used a braided quirt, and I used a piece of wood. Those are bandages. That’s what makes ’em fat.”
“Who did you fight with and what about?”
“Batiste Rameras, Major, and I guess it was just because he’s a Rameras and I’m a Hinshaw.”
“Damn it, you can’t do things like that! You’re a peace officer with proud traditions to uphold.”
“Well, I took my badge and gun off,” Hinshaw said.
Manners closed his eyes for a moment, then said: “Return to your barracks until I call for you. Was Sergeant Grady there?”
“He held my gun and badge.”
“Good Lord,” Manners said. “Go to your barracks and tell Grady I want to see him right away. And you stay in your barracks where I can find you.”
Hinshaw left the building and walked across the dusty yard, whistling softly. He found Grady in his bed, smoking and reading an old newspaper.
“I told the major,” Hinshaw said, hanging up his gun belt. “He wasn’t mad at all.”