by John Glasby
But that could wait until the morning. He had learned a lot during the first day here in Triple Peaks, far more than he had expected. The more he pondered over it, the more likely it seemed that the girl singer at the saloon had been right in her supposition that this stranger called Smith, who had occupied that room next to his, was one of the outlaw gang. He had, in all probability, joined the others on that morning when he had walked out of his hotel room, never to come back, and with the information he had gathered concerning the town and the apathy of the law, he had been able to build up the band into the strong, evil force it was at the present time.
But knowing this did not make it any easier to find these men, or to destroy them. He was, however, interested in what the girl had said about Smith having been wounded in the head and having difficulty in seeing out of his left eye. He recalled that the leader of the outlaws had been described as a man with a patch over his left eye. That seemed a little more than mere coincidence however one looked at it. More and more, the conviction grew that these two men were one and the same person.
If Smith had been hurt he would have gone to a doctor — not in Culver City, because unless he missed his guess, it would be a posse from there which would have been hunting him down when he had been hurt. No — he would have ridden for that small cowtown between Culver City and Triple Peaks, the one he had skirted on his way there, without actually riding through it. Whether the doctor there would talk or not, was something he did not know. But it was there, and possibly in Culver City, that he felt sure he would get more important information regarding this man he was seeking.
Closing the window against the chill of the night air, he pulled the heavy curtains over it, went back into the room and undressed in the darkness, hanging his gunbelt over the nearby chair. His bones and flesh felt bruised and weary after that fight with Jeb in the saloon. But in spite of this, he was asleep almost as soon as he closed his eyes.
When he woke, the grey dawn was just turning to the first scarlet flush which preceded the rising of the sun above the hills to the east. He ate his breakfast in the diner of the hotel, then made his way to Wayne Thorpe’s office. The lawyer had arrived there a few minutes before he did, and welcomed him inside.
There was a quick look of surprise on the lawyer’s face, quickly gone, as he glanced at Garth. ‘You seem to have found trouble in town already,’ he observed. ‘What was it, some of the roughnecks looking for a fight?’
‘Afraid so,’ Garth nodded. ‘But I did find out something that may help in trackin’ down these outlaws. There seems little doubt that this Patch-Eye who leads the band and the man who called himself Smith and stayed here for a couple of days about a month ago are the same person.’
‘And where does that get you?’ inquired the other.
‘I’ve learned that Smith had apparently been shot, or injured when he got here. He’d been wounded in the head and there was a bandage around it when he rode into town. I mean to ride out along the trail back to Culver City and ask a few questions of Sheriff Cantry there. I may also learn something from him about a message that Jessup sent last night from the telegraph office.’
‘You realize, of course, that the trail back to Culver City will lead you through those hills where the outlaws have their hide-out?’
‘I think I can get through them without too much trouble.’
‘I hope so. They may be watching the trails out of town.’
‘That’s a possibility,’ Garth conceded. ‘But they can’t watch every trail all of the time.’
For a moment, Thorpe’s face was creased with worry. Then he shrugged. ‘I guess you do know how to take care of yourself, at that,’ he said quietly. ‘This message you say Jessup sent last night. Do you know what it was?’
Garth nodded slowly. ‘He sent it to Sheriff Cantry of Culver City. He wanted to know if I am a Texas Ranger.’ Thorpe let out a low whistle of surprise and consternation through his teeth.
‘He’s getting remarkably close to the truth, damn it,’ he said harshly. ‘This could make things very tricky for you, Garth.’
Chapter Six: Outlaw!
In the tangled, impenetrable brush that grew along the higher slopes of the hills to the east of Triple Peaks, there were irregular, more open stretches of ground where mine workings, started and then abandoned before the Civil War, thrust deep holes into the solid rock. Now the home of those on the run from the law, away from the main trails through the hills, they provided a sanctuary for hundreds of the lawless breed.
From the small square window of the assay shack, Patch Eye Turrell could look down the stony slope and see most of the deserted mine works that lay brooding in the harsh sunlight. A couple of rusted wagons, used for hauling the ore out of the mountain side, lay canted on their sides near the metal rails that vanished into the gaping hole torn out of the living rock. Just beyond them, he could make out the splintered wooden tops of the main shaft scaffoldings, now in a state of extreme decay.
It was a bleak enough outlook, even in the shimmering heat of the high noon sun, but it provided them with a place where they could hide out in safety between jobs. He had no certain knowledge how swiftly any attempt to capture them would be organised, nor how long it would be before the Rangers moved men into the territory in an attempt to break up the gang as they had once before. But he did know, that while they still held the initiative, they had to strike again. He had been thinking about the bank in Triple Peaks for a long while now, could draw on what he had learned during his brief stay there. It would be a relatively simple thing to knock over the bank. He had judged the sheriff there aright, he felt sure; a big man, but scared to his boots. A man who would not go up against a band of killers if he could possibly find a way out of it. He turned away from the window, glanced across at Kreb. The big man was seated at the small table, whittling away at a piece of wood with his knife. The blade glinted bluely in the shaft of sunlight that struck through the window.
Dufray and Tragge were lounging near the door, staring off into the bright sunlight.
‘Patch Eye,’ said Dufray quietly.
Turrell did not glance directly at the other. He lit a cigarette and stared down at the smoke curling from the glowing tip.
‘Patch Eye,’ said Dufray again. ‘Why don’t we just take what we’ve got now and head out of this goddamned territory? We’re just askin’ for trouble if we try anythin’ more around these parts. The law ain’t standin’ still, you know. They’ll be gettin’ ready for us to move again and — ’
Turrell’s eyes remained on the cigarette and there was a kind of chill to his voice as he said thinly: ‘I told you before, Dufray, to quit that sort of talk. There ain’t nobody in the territory can stop us now.’
‘But we can’t go on like this for ever.’
‘Why not? So long as we got them on the run, we can take any bank or stage we like.’
‘Sure. But all the time we got to stay here like hunted animals. We’ve got more ’n fifty thousand dollars stashed away. What’s the good of it if we can’t spend any of it’?’
‘We stay here because I say so,’ Turrell snapped, some of the steel showing through in his tone. ‘Besides, I’ve got plans for taking the bank in Triple Peaks and soon.’
‘That’s askin’ for trouble,’ put in Tragge harshly. He levered his body away from the wooden upright of the door. ‘That’s where they’ll be waitin’ for us.’
‘No — that’s the last place they’ll expect us to attack. Jessup’s nothin’ more than a scared rabbit. He won’t try anythin’. Besides, I want to know what’s been happenin’ there while we’ve been up here in the hills. I’ve got ideas of bringin’ in more men.’
Dufray calmed himself with an effort; there was no point in getting excited. ‘Where do you figure on gettin’ these men, Turrell?’
‘From the Bar X ranch. Ain’t you forgettin’ that they’re all set against the town? I aim to build this band up into the biggest thing this territory has ever se
en.’
‘When?’
‘When I’m good and ready.’
‘And all the time, we’re forced to hide out here, living in this god-forsaken place. That money’s no good to us where it is, hidden away inside that mine shaft.’
Turrell looked up now, faintly grinning. ‘Dufray, if I didn’t know you better, I’d say you was gettin’ scared.’
‘I’m simply facin’ the facts.’
‘They don’t mean a goddamned thing,’ retorted the other harshly. He went over to the doorway. His glance went down the slope. ‘The only fact I’m facin’ is that there’ll be several thousand in gold and dollar bills in that bank now and I aim to get it. Now get your horses and be ready to ride. If we start out now, we should be close to Triple Peaks by nightfall.’
‘You figurin’ on ridin’ into town tonight?’ Kreb eased his big frame out of the chair at the table, stretched himself, and tried to keep the surprise out of his voice.
‘It’ll be the last place they’ll be lookin’ for us,’ said Turrell quietly. ‘There are some empty shacks on the northern end where we can hole up for the night.’
Kreb thought that over for a moment, then boomed out a loud laugh. ‘I like the idea, Turrell,’ he said harshly.
‘We squat right under their noses for the night and then take the bank in the mornin’.’
*
In the directly above them light of noon, they rode down the ever narrowing canyon from the mine, into the thick scrub that grew out of the arid, rocky ground at the bottom of the slope which angled down the lee of the tall hill. It seemed incredible that anything could grow in this terrible wilderness, Turrell reflected as he sat hunched forward in the saddle, head lowered against the hot wind which blew down from the mountain crests high above them, lifting occasional flurries of dust and hurling it against them. But somehow, this tough wiry grass and the stunted bushes managed to suck enough moisture from the thin, dry soil to exist.
The three men were strung out close behind him as they entered a rocky defile, only wide enough for one man at a time to ride through and even then his legs scraped the rock on either side. The glare of the sun was a sickening thing and at times, he heard Dufray cursing loudly and harshly behind him. Once, he half turned his head to snap at the other as he felt his nerves scraped raw by the heat and glare, then stopped himself, biting down the angry words. It would solve nothing and they had plenty ahead of them without fighting among themselves. But Dufray would have to be watched. It wouldn’t do to have him backing out on them at the wrong moment.
He led them along the defile, then across an open bench of ground and into a slope that led them eventually into timber. At the bottom, there was a wide stream that splashed over a stony bed and they watered their mounts here, pausing to let them blow.
Squatting on his heels on the edge of the stream, Kreb said: ‘I’ve been thinking, Turrell.’
‘What about?’ asked the other, leaning his back against the trunk of a tree.
‘About where the three of us were before you showed up. We’d been runnin’ from the law for months and when you rode into our camp that evenin’ we were just figurin’ on ridin’ out of this territory and headin’ south to Texas. Now we’ve got more money than we can ever spend, even if we lit out for New Mexico right now.’
‘And this is nothin’ to what we can have in a few months’ time,’ Turrell affirmed. ‘I’ve got plans that could make us richer than you’ve ever dreamed.’
‘And you think we can go on like this without the law decidin’ to take a hand in the game?’ queried Dufray.
‘By the time the law decides to take a hand we’ll be ready for ’em,’ declared Turrell confidently. ‘In the meantime, leave the worryin’ to me. All you have to do is obey orders. Understand?’
For a moment, Dufray glared at him, then he let his gaze slide away, nodded slowly. ‘All right, Turrell, but don’t say I didn’t give you warnin’ if anythin’ goes wrong.’
Turrell tightened his lips, looked around at the other two men. ‘Either of you feel like this?’ he asked. ‘I reckon we’d better get things straightened out right now, before we go any further.’
Kreb shrugged his massive shoulders. ‘You’re in charge, Turrell,’ he said thickly. ‘I ain’t had any complaints so far about the way you’ve handled things. Guess we can go on like this as far as I’m concerned.’
Tragge nodded in agreement.
‘Good. Then saddle up. We’ve still got some distance to cover before dark.’
With Turrell leading, they splashed across the stream, followed the narrow, half-seen trail through the underbrush on the other side, their horses going slower now because of the nature of the terrain. Gradually, the slope became steeper, they were forced to wind their way up switchback courses where, in long ages past, some geological upheaval had twisted this rock into weird shapes and channels. At the rim of the long ridge, the pines grew less and they paused for a moment to look back. They could just make out the stream, far below them, glinting between the trees. There was no movement down there, not that they had expected any; but as they were making their way down a loose shale slide, half an hour later, they spotted a rider in the far distance, cutting through one of the wide stage trails that led through the hills.
Kreb pointed him out, said harshly: ‘Somebody spurrin’ his mount fast, Turrell. Looks as though he’s ridden out from Triple Peaks.’
Turrell narrowed his eyes against the pouring sunglare, tried to make out the rider, but the distance was too great and the dust cloud thrown up by the horse hung about him as he rode, obscuring him for long intervals of time. At last, he shrugged.
‘Reckon he’s nobody of importance,’ he said through tight lips. ‘Can’t do anythin’ against us anyway and it’s unlikely he’s carryin’ anythin’ valuable with him.’
They set their mounts to the westward trail that wound snake-like down the face of the ridge. Ahead of them, some miles away, there was open country dipping and rolling in long gradual swells right out to the far horizon. But until they reached the prairie, they were forced to ride slow, keeping a tight rein on their mounts. There were tricky patches of ground to cross, long wrinkles in the earth formed when the hills had been made and they rode their mounts down them, straight-legged, sitting forward in the saddles to enable the horses to keep their balance. Halfway throught the afternoon, they were riding through the gigantic rock formations that formed the lower foothills of the range. Great boulders that lay in tumbled confusion on the wild brush of narrow valley floors. The rocks slowed them down more than Turrell had anticipated. He had been confident of reaching Triple Peaks before nightfall but the sun was sinking swiftly towards the hills in the far west while they were making their way down to the rolling prairie, with still the best part of ten miles to go.
Daylight was beginning to fade from the stretching arch of the heavens once they reached the flatter, more open, country, but here they could give their horses their heads and they rode hard in a long, wide sweep that took them well away from the main trails.
The dark, shadowy shape of Triple Peaks, rising up from the dimness, was sighted just as the sun vanished behind the hills in a violent, soundless explosion of scarlet and crimson light. For several moments, the western sky was a blaze of flame. Then the redness faded, the greens and blues came surging in from the east to swamp out the last traces of sunset and the heat began to diminish as a cooler breeze sprang up, robbing the air of its oven-like heat.
It was a blue world now, abrim with the smell of the hills. The dusk lingered for a little while, then gave way, reluctantly almost it seemed, to the night and the first of the sky soldiers appeared in the east.
Turrell eased himself in his saddle, making it as easy as possible for his mount. He had long since learned that for a man to be able to ride long distances, he had to give first consideration to his horse. Beside him, hard-faced, rode the rest of the men.
An hour later, they came upon the town fr
om the north, cutting in along a narrow, seldom-used trail. Turrell halted his mount when they were still half a mile from the town, signalled to the others to do likewise. They clustered around him in a tight knot.
‘Even better than I figured,’ Turrell said in a low voice. He rolled a smoke, lit it with his hands cupped around his face, head lowered so that the brief orange flare of the match would not be seen from a distance. He blew the smoke out in front of him, holding the reins slackly in his hand. ‘There’s an old warehouse on this side of town. Nobody ever uses it now. At first light, we’ll get into position. We don’t want to ride towards the bank in a bunch. That would arouse too much suspicion. This is how we’re goin’ to do it. Better listen carefully because I don’t want any mistakes tomorrow.’
Quietly, he explained the plan to them, saw Kreb nod his head in agreement several times. There were no questions when he had finished. The plan was very similar to that they had used before when robbing one of the banks in the territory.
After Turrell had smoked his cigarette, they gigged their mounts forward, walking them now. They made steady progress with only the faint sound of hooves in the dust accompanying them, until as near as Turrell could determine, they were almost in the outskirts of the town. Here, he ordered the others to dismount and lead the horses in. Moving more slowly, feeling their way through the darkness here, unlit by any gleam of light, they came to a very narrow spacing between two tall buildings and squeezed their way through. In the pale starshine, it was just possible to make out the contours and angles of the buildings that loomed up on either side of them. In the distance, there was the sound of raucous singing from the saloons, an occasional gunshot that disturbed the stillness, but that was all. Apart from this, the town seemed unnaturally quiet.
As he walked forward, Turrell peered into the shadows on either side of him, seeking some familiar landmark, trying to recall his last visit here, when he had filed away this information against the time, such as this, when it would be needed. A few moments later, he was confident that he knew exactly where he was. Pausing in front of a long, low building, he nodded towards it.