by Neil Hunter
He rode at a steady pace, not wanting to push the horse beneath him. The way ahead had the appearance of being safe, but he knew that layers of snow might easily hide traps for the unwary. Holes, sudden drops offs, even deep gullies, could lie just below the surface. A simple mistake could cripple his horse, putting the animal through pain and suffering, and at worst leaving him set a foot. He had no intention of that happening. Virginia’s survival could be depending on him finding her before something drastic took place. He had taken the job of escorting her through the mountains, placing her under his protection. He had no intention of reneging on that promise. As much for himself as for Virginia.
Chapter Ten
It was midday when they came in sight of the abandoned way-station. It had been years since the stage line had gone out of business, mainly due to the coming of the railroad, but in part due to the fact that the man who had set up the route hadn’t taken into consideration the difficulties of taking six-horse Concords up and down such mountainous terrain. Other stage lines, taking more care over their routes, had prospered, while the dispirited owner of this particular venture, seeing the error of his ways and his falling bank balance, took a train back east. The stock was sold off, the employees moved on, and the way-station was left to rot.
The only sign of life Virginia could see was a pale plume of smoke rising from the stone chimney at one end of the low timber building. The fact they seemed to have arrived at their destination did little to upset her.
She had already experienced enough terror over the last couple of days to numb her for months to come. Whatever lay in store for her inside that building it made no impression on her. She watched Jed Cooper slip from his saddle before the building and reach out to take the reins of her own horse.
‘Get down,’ Cole Shannuck’s voice snapped. He was off his own horse, standing beside hers, prodding her thigh with a hard finger. ‘You hear me? Move it, lady.’
Virginia dismounted, pushing back the anger which boiled up inside her. She faced Shannuck squarely. ‘Shannuck, you are a loud-mouthed bully!’
Shannuck gave a tight-lipped grin, and then slapped her across the face. The force of the blow pushed Virginia back, only the bulk of her horse stopping her from falling to the ground. She touched a hand to the burning spot on her cheeks refusing to lower her angered gaze from Shannuck’s face.
‘Thank you for proving what I just said,’ she told him.
Shannuck muttered something obscene, grabbed her arms and dragged her towards the building. Reaching the door he booted it open, hauling Virginia into the dimly lit room. He didn’t stop there but simply propelled Virginia across the floor. Struggling against his brutal grip Virginia caught sight of dark clad figures on the far side of the room. She counted four of them, bunched around a fire blazing in an open hearth, bulky in their thick coats. She had little time to see anything else. Shannuck pushed open another door and shoved her into a dark room. Before he closed and bolted the door Virginia made out the shape of a low bunk against one wall. There was only one window in the room and she saw the thick planks that had been nailed across it, blocking off daylight. Then the door banged shut and she was left alone in the semi-darkness. Alone, wondering, cold, and, she admitted, a little frightened suddenly.
Turning from the door he’d just bolted Shannuck strode across the room, working open his heavy coat. He tossed it aside as he reached the group of men around the fire. Shannuck eased his way through to the welcome swell of heat and stood while the chill was thawed from his bones.
‘I was beginning to think you weren’t going to make it.’
The speaker was a tall, fair-haired man in his thirties. Starting to run to fat in his face. Might have been good looking a few years back but he had let himself go. His name was Jerome Cortland and he was the man calling the shots on this deal. The man with the money.
Shannuck glanced at the speaker. He did not like Jerome Cortland very much. No, he corrected, not at all. But the man was paying well and for enough money Cole Shannuck could put up with anyone.
‘More problems, Shannuck?’ Cortland asked.
Shannuck smiled tiredly. ‘Many as you need,’ he said.
‘Just tell it, Shannuck. I can do without the jokes.’ Cortland snapped.
‘Benteen started it. I sent him down into Butte to keep an eye on the woman. Trouble was she’d already gone and hired herself some help. Man named Brand. Done some star packing and worked for bounty at one time. Good man with a gun. Benteen must have braced him. Way I see it Brand must have killed him. By the time we found this out the woman and Brand had moved out. They were heading for Bannock. When we caught up with ’em Brand put up one hell of a fight. Feeney and Cleaver are both dead. I reckon me and Cooper would have been if I hadn’t gotten some lead into that bastard. Brand always was a tough son of a bitch.’
‘Jesus!’ The exclamation came from one of the other men. He turned to glare at Cortland. ‘This whole thing is turning into a massacre. What next, Jerry? Will it be our turn?’
Cortland gave a nervous chuckle. ‘I don’t think we’ll he having any more trouble from this man Brand.’ He glanced at Shannuck. ‘Will we, Cole?’
‘I put him down myself. He went into a gully. If the bullet didn’t kill him the cold would have finished him. Way back we run into Puma and I sent him to make sure Brand was dead. Told him where to find the others and to bury ’em all. We come across Jack Bell too. He was dead,’
The man who had brought himself into the conversation pointed a thin finger at Cortland. ‘Hell, Jerry, we’d better he damn sure there aren’t any loose ends left lying around.’
‘I think all the loose ends have been tidied up, Ben,’ Cortland said. ‘Once Puma has buried the bodies we won’t need to worry. He’ll place them where they’ll never be found. It’s unfortunate that these problems have developed but I see no reason why we can’t just carry on.’
Ben Holland grunted. He still wasn’t fully convinced. There was too much at stake to be as casual as Cortland. There was a lot to be said for the cautious approach. It was the way Holland had always operated and he didn’t see any reason for changing his ways now. Not even for the amount of money involved in Cortland’s grandiose scheme. He had been talked into the deal because whatever else Cortland had a persuasive tongue and he excelled at selling deals. Holland, who was known in the territory, had the muscle and the contacts to run with the deal.
‘No matter how many millions you’re figurin’ on, Jerry, if we get caught it ain’t going to do any us much good if we’re in jail. Or on the end of a rope.’
Shannuck chuckled softly. ‘For a gambling man, Holland, you sure are the nervous kind. How the hell did you ever get where you are?’
‘By knowing just when to put up and when to hold off,’ Holland said. ‘And by hiring dummies like you to do the dirty work for me.’
A hard growl of anger rose in Shannuck’s throat. He moved towards Holland but paused when the remaining two men flanking Holland, also moved.
For a moment tension held them in a potentially dangerous situation. It was Cortland who broke it up.
‘Cole, cut it out. Look, people, it isn’t going to make things any better if we argue amongst ourselves. Let’s just calm down and talk this out. There’s too much to lose.’
Cole Shannuck relaxed visibly, his broad shoulders dropping. He turned away from the fire. At that moment the outer door opened and Jed Cooper stepped inside. He closed the door and stood for a moment to shake snow from his coat.
‘Damn storm’s building up again,’ he announced and when there was no reply he glanced towards the tight group of men gathered before the fire. Cooper stared from face to face, quick to catch the angry expressions.
‘I miss something,’ he asked, crossing the room.
Cortland was the first to react. ‘Just a slight misunderstanding, Jed. Nothing to get worried over.’
‘Glad to hear it,’ Cooper said. He eyed his partner for a long moment.
‘Cole?’
Shannuck rubbed at his unshaven jaw with a fierce flick of his hand. ‘Nothing to bother over,’ he said. ‘Let’s go and see if there’s any coffee on in the kitchen.’
‘Sure,’ Cooper agreed. He followed Shannuck’s towering figure, unease etched across his face.
‘Christ, Ben take it easy,’ Cortland said when Shannuck and Cooper were out of earshot. ‘Cole might be no more than a gunman but don’t forget he’s one of the best. He’s hard and he’s proud.’
Ben Holland dismissed his two bodyguards. The two men faded out of sight in a dark corner of the room. Holland and Cortland pulled a couple of hard backed chairs up in front of the fire and sat down.
‘Regardless of everything else,’ Cortland said, ‘we’ve got her here. That was what we set out to do.’ A triumphant smile washed across his round, slightly puffy face. ‘She’s in that room over there, Ben, and she’s our way to millions. Cash, shares, bonds. Property, mines, timber. Hell, there’s a list as long as my arm. And right now it’s as good as ours. Ours, Ben. The whole damn lot.’
Holland nodded. ‘Yeah? You can tell me all that again when we’ve got it laying on a table in front of us.’
‘With Virginia out of the way there’s no problem.’ Cortland sat back, allowing himself a satisfied smirk. ‘For God’s sake, Ben, relax. Our troubles are over.’
Chapter Eleven
The weather changed again dramatically. The first indication was a sudden darkening in the sky. Then the sun vanished behind heavy, dense clouds that came rolling in from over the bleak crests of the mountain peaks. Shadows lengthened, it became colder, and within a relatively short time the landscape was altered.
The storm caught Jason Brand out in the open. He was moving slowly across the face of a long slope when the wind drove down from the lead gray sky. Thick flakes of snow danced around him, swiftly building to a heavy fall. Within minutes Brand was lost in a white fog of swirling, blinding snow. He drew his coat in around his body, jamming his sodden hat tight down over his face and swore in vain at the contrary elements. The tracks he’d been following vanished before his eyes, hidden by the fresh fall of snow. All Brand could do was to take a guess at the direction they might take. He was certain of one thing. Bannock was not their destination. Virginia’s captors had cut away from the town miles back. They had started to curve off towards the west.
But to where?
Somewhere at the back of Brand’s mind existed a very faint image of the map Virginia had produced, the one Jack Bell had sent her, on which she had marked her own route to Bannock. Somewhere on that map he had seen a location, below and to the west of Bannock. Brand couldn’t recall what it had been but it stuck in his mind now, an irritating thorn that kept nagging at him as he rode.
The need to find her safe and well burned hard inside him. A responsibility that refused to diminish. He thought about the way he was feeling, and unbidden the knowledge showed itself. This was another part of his makeup. A steadfast determination not to fail someone for whom he had accepted responsibility. It was in his character. A desire not to let them down. It wasn’t a forced decision. It just existed. He thought about that and wondered what it was that made it so important to him. Perhaps, he decided, there had been something in his past that had left a deep imprint in his mind that made him incapable of betraying someone’s trust. Whatever it might be it held him to the unspoken promise.
Don’t give in, Virginia. Hang on. I won’t quit on you.
The wind became stronger hurling the white eddies of snow down from the high peaks. Brand felt the stuff clinging to his clothing, forming a wet blanket over his horse’s flanks. He was beginning to feel cold again. No amount of thick clothing was going to keep out the cold during a storm of such ferocity. Brand blinked the thick flakes away from his eyes, pawing them from his cold face.
His horse began to play awkward. The animal didn’t take to the inclement weather. Brand could see its point but he had no choice.
There was no time for sheltering from the weather. Bad or not he had to keep moving. Brand yanked savagely on the reins, digging in his heels. The horse lunged forward, floundering in deep snow. It fought against Brand’s heavy hand but it couldn’t win. Reluctantly it plodded on, head down, hating the weather and the rider on its back.
Brand’s kept reviewing the image in his mind of the map. Something on it had lodged in his mind.
What was it?
He struggled to bring the details into his mind’s eye. His struggle to stay alert, the numbing cold of the driving storm. All these factors held him back from clear thinking. He felt sure the location was important. But what was it? Where was it? Close or far away. Had he passed it without knowing. He had done his best to keep his line of travel constant, but the vagaries of pinpointing landmarks in the middle of the storm meant he could have ridden by and was now travelling along a different path.
No.
He refused to let that be true. He had maintained his route. Of that he was sure. Brand reined in, easing in the saddle as he took a long, slow look around, checking his position. He scanned the dark, brooding peaks looming overhead. The silent mountains held many secrets and were reluctant to give them up. Brand checked his back trail. The drifting snow had already covered his tracks. He sat his horse in a white wasteland of smooth, unmarked snow, a lone figure made small in the vast expanse of the mountain slopes. The only sound he could hear was the soft moan of the wind as it shivered its way down off the higher peaks, pushing the snow before it, swirling it and dropping it around him as if it was deliberately attempting to conceal the way ahead.
Brand sat upright, a tight smile edging his chapped lips.
That was it.
The way ahead. The missing detail.
A way-station.
Abandoned when the stage line went bust. That was it. The recall jolted Brand out of his lethargy. That was what he’d seen on Virginia’s map. Just the place to take someone if the intention was to keep that person hidden away. It seemed a likely destination for Virginia and her captors. And in this weather a safe haven between Butte and Bannock. There was no guarantee that was where they had gone but Brand figured the odds were high enough to justify a visit. He was starting to have a feeling there was hope after all.
All he had to do now was to find the damn place.
~*~
Despite the fury of the storm Brand was able to keep a check on his line of travel by the ever present mountain peaks. He used them as markers, keeping them in the same position as he rode. He stopped every so often to make sure he hadn’t drifted off course. Even so he began to despair of ever sighting the way-station. He might pass it and not even notice the place in this storm. Drifting snow could rise to surprising heights, especially up here in this bleak mountain country.
He rode on, driven by a compulsive need to stay unbeaten. There was something deep inside which kept him going, not allowing him the luxury of even thinking about giving in. It was not in Brand’s makeup, that much he did know about himself. He might do a lot of things and probably had, but he was damned certain that quitting because the game got too hard was not one of them. He had also made a deal with Virginia Maitland. A promise to see her safely to her destination and he wasn’t about to go back on his word.
And in the end his dogged persistence paid off.
The howling wind was driving down out of an ever darkening sky when his aching eyes picked out the faint, dark shape of a long, low building, half-hidden by rolling drifts of snow. Brand eased his horse into the scant shelter of some tall pines. He dismounted, tied the horse, and took the rifle he’d acquired from Puma with him, checking it again to make sure it was fully loaded and cocked. He moved silently down through the pines until he was close enough to the building to be able to make out the glow of lamplight shining through dirty windows. At the rear of the building there was a corral and a narrow lean-to. Brand could make out the dark bulk of a number of horses stirring restlessly beneath the lean
-to.
He hunched down with his back to one of the pine trunks. Fishing around in his pocket he brought out one of the cigars he’d found in Puma’s saddlebags. He lit it. Smoking the cigar slowly, his nose wrinkling against the acrid taste of the cheap, bitter tobacco, Brand studied the layout of the way-station. If they had Virginia in there how the hell was he going to get her out? He had no way of knowing how many were in there with her. Just the two who had brought her? Or had others been waiting for them? Brand flicked dead ash from the tip of the cigar and realized that it had gone out. He crushed it in his fingers and tossed it aside. He could sit out here until he froze to the ground and he still wouldn’t know any more. The only way he was going to find answers to his questions was by going down there and taking Virginia away from whoever was holding her. And the hell with anyone who got in his way. He was mad enough to kill on sight. Of late he’d been knocked about and shot at and been half frozen - and the maddening thing was he still didn’t know why. Virginia’s visit to Montana seemed to have sparked off an awful lot of violence for some odd reason. Jason Brand had already reached the point where he was tired of being on the receiving end. From here on in he was going to hand out the trouble to anyone who stood in his way. He checked his handgun. Something told him he was going to need his weapons.
Slipping from the shelter of the trees Brand cut quickly across the open ground, keeping his eyes on the door of the building. He reached the comparative safety of the end wall without difficulty and paused there to catch his breath. Moving along the base of the end wall he made for the rear of the building. As he had been approaching the place he had thought about the horses under the lean-to. It shouldn’t take but a minute to slip their tethers and set them loose, he decided. At the rear he stopped and spent a couple of minutes making certain they didn’t have a man on guard. He saw nothing, heard nothing. Finally he eased his way along the rear of the building, slipping beneath the lean-to. His cold fingers fumbled with the knots of the tethers but eventually he had them loose. Brand shooed the horses out into the open. They didn’t think a great deal of the idea and kept crowding back towards the lean-to. Brand cursed them foully, but silently, hating the stubborn cussedness of the animals. After a couple of minutes he was sweating freely beneath his thick clothing, and not all of it was from exertion. The horses, tiring of his persistent attempts to drive them away, suddenly tuned and plowed off through the thick snow. Almost immediately they were lost from view by the falling snow.