by J. T. Edson
The slope was crowded with running Mexicans, bounding up to the top and heading for their horses as fast as they could go. There was no sight in the world so guaranteed to rouse a soldier as the backs of a fleeing enemy and those recruits reacted like veterans. They cut down on the running Mexicans, sending them rolling in the dirt.
At the top of the slope Waco roared. “Beau, call them off!’
Beaulieu stared wildly at Waco, then back at the rapid riding Mexicans, scattering and heading for the border as fast as they could go. Then the mad fighting light died from his eyes, and like a bugle call his voice rang out ‘Re-form on me. Re-form the troop.’
It took some time to cool the fight-mad soldiers down, but at last they were under control again. Flushed and grinning at each other they assembled, all eager to tell each other of the part they had taken in the fight.
‘What happened?’ Beaulieu turned to Waco. ‘Where did the other troop come from?’
‘Over there. Colonel Bone and his one man, one mule army.’
Sam Bone rode up, one hand holding the bugle, the other patting his mule’s neck. From his saddlehorn was a rope and at the end of it, still stirring up dust, was a big clump of mesquite. His face was split by a grin that almost stretched from ear to ear and he raised his hand in a salute.
Waco held out a hand, gripping Sam’s and asked, ‘Why’d you do that. You like to scared me out of a year’s growth when I saw that dust.’
‘You mean you knew all along that Sam was out there?’ Beaulieu asked, eyeing the two grinning men. ‘Why didn’t you say?’
‘I didn’t know if he’d make it at all. We fixed it together. Sam took ole General Ambilech up the face there where a hoss couldn’t have gone. He was supposed to stay back out of sight and blow calls. Looks like he thought his own idea out and tried it.’
‘What now, Lootenant?’ Sam Bone asked.
‘Form a burial detail for our men and then carry on looking for Chacon.’
‘Won’t do any good at all,’ Waco answered, ‘Chacon isn’t out.’
‘How can you be so sure?’
‘Ole Peludo’s like a silvertip grizzly. He hunts with his bunch and he won’t let no other bunch hunt his bailiwick. That crowd there weren’t fit to wipe Chacon’s boots; they’d never work any place where he was likely to be.’
Beaulieu looked at the still shapes on the hill, then at Waco and Doc. ‘I reckon you’re right, like always,’ he said.
~*~
The patrol returned to Orejano by the shortest route. There was confirmation and proof of Waco’s judgment waiting for them in the shape of a message from Captain Mosehan. Waco read it then handed it to Beaulieu.
‘Chacon seen on New Mexico line; return to Tucson as fast as possible or even faster.’
The young officer turned to Sam Bone. They were at the door of his small shop and the troop were lined up ready to move out again.
‘Forgot to ask you, Sam. Where did you learn to blow the bugle?’
‘Was the bestest bugler my regiment ever had, suh,’ Sam answered.
One of the soldiers turned to Davies and snorted. ‘You said Sam didn’t fight in the war, didn’t you?’
Beaulieu gave the order and the troop rode by the three men, the answer Davies gave being lost to them.
‘I’m sure pleased they didn’t ask me what regiment,’ Sam Bone remarked. He stepped into the building and came out carrying an Army uniform.
It was Confederate grey, not Union blue.
Case Six – The Bail Jumpers
The small wooden building on the outskirts of Tucson was neither large nor impressive; just a single story, four-room building behind a once white fence. At the back was a small storehouse and a corral with a few very good horses in it. A painted sign read, to the old woman who’d walked by twice and now halted there, ‘Arizona Rangers, Captain Bertram H. Mosehan.’
Hesitantly she pushed open the gate and walked up the path, pausing to look back nervously before she halted at the door. She braced herself and pushed open the door, walking into a small office. At a desk, trying to decipher a report written by a man who only very rarely held a pen, was a slim, handsome young man in his shirt sleeves.
He looked up and rose as the woman came towards him. ‘Good afternoon, ma’am.’ His accents were not those of the range. ‘Can I help you?’
‘I want to see Bertram Mosehan. Tell him Minnie Thornton is here; he’ll see me quick enough.’
Jed Peters was a young man with a keen memory and the name meant something to him. He turned and went to the door immediately behind his chair, knocked on it and entered.
‘I think we’ve got a break at last, Captain,’ he said, looking at Waco and Doc Leroy who were lounging at the side of the room. ‘Mrs. Thornton is outside.’
‘Fetch her in, Jed,’ Mosehan replied, then looked at the two Texans who were putting on their hats. ‘Stay and listen. It might be the chance we’ve been waiting for.’
Waco and Doc settled back again. They’d been brought in from their more usual area of operations up at Backsight in Coconino County to help on this serious and unfruitful chore in the south. Someone here was running the small freighting outfits out of business, making them pay protection money and gradually forcing them out. The Governor came to hear of this and assigned his Captain of Rangers to break the hold of the gang. So far without success, Mosehan and his two Tucson men, Glendon and Speed, tried to get a lead. None of the small freight outfits would talk or cooperate, being afraid of repercussions, so Mosehan brought in the two men who were rapidly becoming his tophands to help out.
He came up and crossed to greet the sturdy old woman in the black mourning clothes. “I am real sorry to hear about ole Dad, Aunt Minnie,’ he said, escorting her to a chair. ‘That’s why you’ve come to see me, isn’t it?’
‘It is. The local law can’t help us and I wouldn’t want Pinkertons on it. I heard you was head of the Arizona Rangers and came down here. You wanted someone to tell you who’s been driving all the small freighters out of business?’
‘We want somebody who’ll go into a witness box and say it,’ Mosehan replied.
‘And that’ll be me.’ Minnie Thornton’s voice was grim. ‘You know that two of their best men beat up Dad and he died through it. I was in bed ill at the time but I got out and saw them finishing off. I couldn’t even get downstairs for my shot gun to help them out. But I saw them and I’d recognize them again.’
‘Do you know their names, ma’am?’ Waco asked gently, seeing how the woman was fighting down her grief.
‘No, but I’d know them again. They were tall, heavy-built men and they was wearing dude clothes. I’d swear they wasn’t range men.’
‘Were they, either of them, the man who came to see you first?’ Mosehan asked. ‘We know how the game’s being run but not by whom.’
‘No, it wasn’t him. He was a dude like them, but smaller. Kinda dark skinned like he’d got Mex blood in him. They didn’t look like him at all. He came and saw me and Dad first, told us he wanted fifty dollars a week protection. We paid it.’
‘Freighters don’t usually scare that easy, ma’am,’ Doc put in.
‘He didn’t threaten Dad; it was me and our gal over in Bisbee they said they’d hurt. That was why Dad paid up. But that wasn’t the end of it. They came round and told us to fire all our old hands and take on their men. Dad wouldn’t do it. He got word to our gal and she went East for a vacation. I was in bed ill and they beat him up. Like I say, I only saw the end of it. They killed him.’
‘And that’s being done all over the south of the Territory,’ Mosehan explained. ‘Which is why I brought you two in. You’re not so well-known down here as Pete and Billy. The Governor’s heard about this game and wants to holler keno on it. It’s been going on a piece; the original owners tried to fight and they ended up in what looked like accidents. The freighters wouldn’t talk; every time it was the same, the protection bunch went for their kin, threatened to hurt t
heir wives or daughters. A man’ll take chances with himself, but not with his family. So they were run out of business.’
‘Who buys the businesses up?’
‘Nobody so far. There is a big freight outfit called Carelli’s Freight Services putting a branch into each town. They operate cheaper than the small outfit that went out of business; start doing it as soon as the small bunch go out. They might be tied in with this gang or they might not. There’s no proof either way.’
‘They’ve just started operating in Tucson.’
The three Rangers looked at the old woman; it was Waco who asked, ‘How’d you know that, ma’am?’
‘I saw the man who came to see us first today. I was just going along to see young Hal Maxim and I saw him leaving their place. I kept out of sight until he’d gone, then went round to see Hal and his wife. They were scared and they wouldn’t talk about it at first. I tried to get them to come round and see you Rangers but they daren’t do it. Molly wanted Hal to, but he’s scared of what they’ll do to her. He said the man’d come round and told him to fire off all his men. The men are scared; things have happened to men who tried to stay on. They all wanted out.’
There was silence again. Mosehan lifted his feet on to his desk and looked at the roof, a sure sign he was thinking. Waco sat hand rolling a smoke, whistling a cattle song. Doc went to the window and looked out along the street, seeing a few women walking towards the center of town but nothing suspicious. The woman watched them without speaking. She knew that the Rangers would try to help her and was satisfied that they were going to take a hand.
Mosehan’s feet came down from the desk and he stood up. Waco knew his chief very well and looked up with a grin.
‘You got something, Cap’n Bert?’
‘I need a man who can handle his fists and isn’t scared to leave his guns off for a spell. It could be dangerous even though I’ll have him covered all the time.’
Doc turned from the window, eyes going to his handsome, wide-shouldered young friend and a smile on his face. ‘When do you start, boy?’ he asked.
~*~
The small, thin man in the town clothes pointed to the wagon standing in front of Maxim’s Freight Yard. A tall, blond young man was checking the wheels, a man with the sleeves of his blue shirt rolled up, old blue jeans, high-heeled boots and no gun.
‘All right, Kagg, Bunt. That’s the one. Work him over, the rest have all quit. Make sure you scare any more that might come.’
‘All right,’ Kagg, the bigger and heavier of the pair replied. ‘What you going to do while we’re doing it?’
‘You know what I’m going to do,’ the small man answered. ‘I mustn’t be seen or connected with you at all.’
‘Can’t say I like it, Maiden,’ Bunt, the second man, growled. ‘If we’re caught who’ll get us out of it?’
‘You don’t have to get caught. You know as well as I do that Mr. Carelli will not get involved in this. He told you that you were on your own the whole time. He can’t afford to risk becoming involved with the other side.’
‘Carelli told us that,’ Kagg replied. ‘We don’t like it all that much.’
‘The pay’s good, don’t forget.’
‘That’s why we took on.’ Kagg watched the thin man. ‘We met Tull and Haufman down in Mexico and they told us about Carelli. They killed a man didn’t they?”
Maiden nodded. He looked around, not wishing to be seen with these two men; Carelli was strict on matters like that. The agent in the town was to act as contact man but never participate in any of the strong arm stuff. That was what this kind of man was hired to do. The agent must never allow himself to be seen with them and only came out when there was an emergency like this. The two new men did not know Tucson, and Maiden came to show them the Maxim Freight Yard, keeping to the backstreets. He wanted to get away before he was seen by someone.
‘They killed a man all right. Didn’t mean to but he was old and couldn’t stand the beating. So the boss told them to get out of the country. Sent them down to Tejanus with enough money to hold them until he needs them here again. When you’ve done this you head down there and wait with them. That way the law can’t touch you. They can’t follow you into Mexico.’
Maiden turned and hurried off. The other two let him get out of sight before they moved forward, making for the wagon and the young man who was working at it.
‘Hey you!’
Waco straightened up and turned round. The two men coming towards him wore range clothes and certainly were not eastern dudes. They were both almost as tall and heavier than him, yet he guessed guns would be their weapons and not fists.
‘Me?’ Waco’s voice was mild, his face showing no expression at all.
‘You,’ Kagg answered, moving nearer. ‘This ain’t a healthy company to work for?’
‘Why not?’
‘Accidents happen to folk who work for it, don’t they, Bunt?’
‘All the time, Kagg. All the time. You’d better quit, sonny, afore one happens to you.’
‘What sort of accident, gents?’
‘This sort!’
Kagg’s fist shot out, a savage punch powered by all his weight. If it had landed Waco would have been in bad shape, but, as he guessed, Kagg was more used to handling a gun than his fists. The punch was slow and telegraphed to Waco’s lightning-fast fighting impulses. His head moved aside, allowing the fist to whistle by his ear. The force of the swing brought Kagg forward, right on to Waco’s left fist which shot out and drove into flesh like a mule kick. Kagg grunted and doubled up; Waco’s knee came up, driven with all his strength to smash right into the man’s face; he felt the nose squash under the impact. Then Kagg stood erect, clutching at his injured nasal organ, and staggered back.
Before Bunt could recover from his surprise, Waco came in fast, his right shooting out and exploding on Bunt’s jaw. Bunt’s head rocked back, then a left and a right rocked it back and forwards so fast that the man did not know if he was coming or going. He staggered back and Waco came in with a right to the bristly jaw which laid Bunt down on the ground.
Kagg, snarling curses and holding his nose with his left hand, started to pull his gun with his right. He saw a slim, lithe shape leap from the wagon and land by the side of the tall, blond youngster. A White hand made a flickering movement and a gun was lined on Kagg. At the same moment the door of the office was thrown open and three men came out, all holding guns.
‘Rangers here, throw them high!’
It was a challenge that was meant to be obeyed. The two men were not from Arizona Territory but they knew that the Rangers never gave a challenge unless they expected to have it obeyed. Both Kagg and Bunt made their living by selling their guns to the highest bidder and they knew skilled gun hands when they saw them.
Kagg’s hand came from his gunbelt and lifted to join the other which was also raised. On the floor Bunt shook off his daze and saw the futility of trying to match guns with these four men all alert and ready. He pushed himself to his feet and raised his hands, standing by his partner and scowling.
Waco moved behind the two men, coming in and taking their guns from them. He did it fast and with such skill that neither was given any chance of making a move. Then he caught the two sets of handcuffs Mosehan threw to him. Reaching up he pulled Kagg’s arms down behind the big man’s back and snapped the handcuffs on. Pushing Kagg towards the waiting Rangers, Waco handcuffed Bunt in the same manner, then said, ‘We’ll get them down to the office by the back way.’
Mosehan nodded in agreement. ‘I’ll collect the witness after I’ve thanked Hal and his wife.’
He went into the office where a man and a woman sat behind the desk. ‘We got them both. From now until we’ve broke this thing Pete and Billy will stay with you all the time. I’ve got two more men coming in today to help me out and I can spare both Pete and Billy.’
Hal Maxim looked up, some of the anxiety leaving his face. ‘I shouldn’t be taking your men. I can—’
>
‘You and Mrs. Thornton’s our witnesses. We get three of you to testify and a lot of others will stand up and say their piece too. I’m leaving two men to watch you. Just do what they say and everything will be all right.’
The young woman got up and came round the desk. ‘Hal wanted to come to you right away. But they said they’d hurt me if he did and Hal wouldn’t risk it.’
‘I know that, it’s the way this kind work. They go for the women because they know they can’t frighten the men any other way. Don’t worry, we’ll get them.’
Mosehan returned to his headquarters, going into his office after seeing Mrs. Thornton, who was using the living room at the back. He gave her certain instructions and although she did not quite understand why she was to do the thing asked, she was willing to carry on and do it.
In the office Kagg and Bunt stood against the wall, sullen, brooding looks on their faces. Waco and Doc were seated at the desk and Jed Peters, notebook in hand, stood at the side of the door.
‘What do we charge these two with, Captain?’ he asked. ‘Assault, attempted murder and murder.’
It took a couple of seconds for the words to sink into the not over bright minds of Kagg and Bunt. Then they realized what Mosehan had said.
‘Murder?’ Bunt yelped like a bee stung dog.
‘What murder?’ Kagg’s voice was pitched high.
‘Dad Thornton over Ysaleta way.’
Kagg and Bunt looked at each other, relief showing plainly on their faces. That murder was one crime they definitely were not connected with.
‘You reckon you can make it stick?’ Kagg asked triumphantly.
‘Got us a witness, friend,’ Waco replied. ‘She saw the two men and can identify them. If she recognizes you, reckon we’ll make her stick.”
The two men sat at the desk, in the chairs where Waco put them, watching the door. Neither of them expected the woman to identify them; they were grinning at each other and waiting for the shock the Rangers were going to get. The other charge of attempted assault did not unduly worry them, for they felt that a good lawyer could get them out of it with no trouble.