Ambush Range

by Burt Kroll

  “Sure thing. I’m Jake Linnaker. Are you one of Oakley’s deputies?”

  “Yeah The name is Ward Merrill. I ranch over by Portville, but Oakley deputized me when I told him I was coming out after a bunch that’s been giving me some trouble.”

  The marshal picked up a bunch of keys and led the way into a cell block, and Wood was searched and had his belongings removed before being locked in. When they were back in the office, Merrill looked over the items taken from the prisoner’s pockets, but they threw no light upon the business, and he sighed heavily.

  “I’m obliged for your help,” he told Linnaker. “I’ll be taking him back to Portville tomorrow at first light. Now I figure to get some food and then find a bed for the night. It’s been a hard ride.”

  “He’ll be here in the morning when you want him,” the marshal replied. “You’ve picked yourself a tough chore, coming after him alone.”

  “There are three more I’d like to meet up with,” Merrill responded. “See you in the morning.”

  He left the office with the intention of going to the hotel to get a bed for the night, but a voice hailed him and he turned quickly, dropping a hand to his gun, to find Frank Maitland coming along the sidewalk towards him. The saloon man was grinning.

  “Hi, Ward. I just heard what happened in the saloon, and when they described the deputy making the arrest I figured it just had to be you.”

  “Frank!” Merrill was surprised. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “I own the saloon here in town,” Maitland said. “I come over from Portville at least once a week to keep an eye on things. I was in the office when you showed up. So you got one of those men who has been bothering you!”

  “Yeah, and killed two more. But I didn’t know you had a saloon here in town.”

  “It ain’t a secret.” Maitland laughed harshly. “A man’s got to spread his wings a bit. No sense making money and leaving it in the bank to gather dust. I believe in making my capital work for me.”

  “I heard you’re planning on opening a third saloon in Portville,” Merrill said. “You sure are expanding. The cattle herds coming in will line your pockets.”

  “You sound as if you’re jealous of a man who can make a bit extra,” Maitland said with a chuckle, but his dark eyes were bright as he regarded Merrill. “But you’re not that kind of a man, huh? I think I’ve got you pegged right. You’re a public-spirited man, Ward. That much is obvious by the way you’ve pinned on a law badge after what you said against it.”

  “I’m not one of Oakley’s special deputies. I’m merely wearing this badge to get the men who shot down Pop Lorimer.”

  “Lorimer?” Surprise showed in Maitland’s expression. “I didn’t hear about that. What happened?”

  “When did you leave town? Pop and I saw you just before we rode out to head back to the ranch. The ambush took place at the creek about halfway between my place and town. There were three riders involved. I killed two at the time and trailed the other one as far as here.”

  “I left town about the time you did, and rode over here. I got in early today, and I’ll be starting back tomorrow. But I’m shocked by this news. Pop Lorimer never did anyone any harm. Who are these men after you, Ward?”

  “I don’t know. They’re strangers to this part of the country so I’m figuring that someone who does know me and don’t like me has brought them in to get me.”

  “That’s the helluva thing. You got any idea who that someone might be?”

  “If I knew I wouldn’t be standing here talking to you, Frank. I’d be after them. There were six to start with. I’ve got three of them, but I’m concerned about the other three.”

  “You got anything to work on against them?”

  “Nothing. I don’t know who they are or anything about them. I’m hoping to get something out of my prisoner, but he seems to be a tough, close-mouthed type.”

  “You’ll be taking him back to Portville, I presume.” Maitland reached into his pocket for a cigar and bit off the end, spitting it into the dust. “Maybe we can ride back together, huh? I’m heading out first thing in the morning.”

  “It might be dangerous for you to be in my company,” Merrill replied bitterly. “Pop was riding with me when we were ambushed, and they killed him, not me.”

  “You must have a charmed life. But I expect your instincts for survival were sharpened by your earlier law work.”

  “I did learn a lot in those days,” Merrill admitted. “But there’s nothing a man can do when someone starts shooting from cover. Anyway, I don’t know when I’ll be starting back to Portville. I might have to make some enquiries around here before starting back. Those other three men could be in town. Like I said, there were six of them, and the survivor of the trio who ambushed me headed straight here. There was a time when I figured he was heading around to Portville, but he didn’t, although the six of them went into Portville after shooting up my place that first time.”

  “Sure seems to be a crazy situation, huh?” Maitland shook his head. “I hope you get to the bottom of it, Ward.”

  “Thanks. I’m gonna spend the night in the hotel.”

  “No need to go to that expense. I’ve got a spare room at the saloon. You’re welcome as my guest. In fact, I won’t take no for an answer.”

  “That’s kind of you, but I’d prefer the hotel. I don’t know whether I’ll be sleeping tonight or not. I may be out around the town.”

  “Okay.” Maitland shrugged. “See you back in Portville, huh?”

  “Sure, if I get there safely.” Merrill smiled and turned towards the hotels and his thoughts were animated as he rented a room and carried his gear up to it.

  He wondered about Frank Maitland in much the same way that he had considered Si Kester after Kay Parry’s disclosures about the town marshal of Portville. But he would have to be suspicious of every man who lived in and around Portville until he really got to the bottom of the trouble. But he could not see what interest Frank Maitland could have in him to the extent of bringing in gunhands, and he dismissed the saloon man from his mind.

  He went back to the jail after cleaning up and having a meal, and faced his prisoner again, hoping that a couple of hours in jail would have caused the hard case to change his mind, but the man refused to talk about his past activities.

  “You’re making it look suspicious against yourself,” Merrill pointed out to him. “If you’ve nothing to hide then you’d tell me where you’re from and what you were doing in the last forty-eight hours.”

  “I don’t have to tell you anything,” came the surly reply.

  “Okay.” Merrill went back into the law office and faced the town marshal. Jake Linnaker looked at him wisely.

  “You didn’t get anything outa him, huh?” he demanded.

  “Not a thing. But I can tie him in with this trouble. I’m wondering what he’s done with his gear? He must have a saddle and a rifle and saddlebags.”

  “They’ll probably be down at the stable. The liveryman takes care of gear for an extra charge, and maybe your man has left his stuff in Seth’s tack-room.”

  “I’ll go and have a look.” Merrill sighed, for a lawman’s work was never done.

  He went along the street in the darkness and entered the stable to find the liveryman in his dusty office. When he explained what he wanted, the man nodded.

  “Yeah, he left some gear here. Come on and I’ll show you.” He led the way into his tack-room, which he kept locked, and there were at least twenty saddles inside, along with other gear and a dozen pairs of saddlebags. The liveryman indicated some saddlebags. “They belong to the man with the green shirt who rode in on the black,” he said.

  “Stand by and watch me search these,” Merrill ordered, and opened the saddlebags. But he found nothing significant in them, and was about to replace the items he had removed when he noticed a piece of paper crumpled into a corner of one of the bags. Taking it out, he smoothed it to find that it was the receipt Wood and
Joel Raynor had signed when they exchanged horses. Merrill smiled triumphantly. “This at least ties Wood in with the buckskin that had the loose shoe,” he commented. “If I need you to witness the fact that I took this from these saddlebags will you do so?”

  “Sure thing,” the liveryman replied, and Merrill folded the receipt carefully and stuck it into his breast pocket.

  Merrill started back towards the law office, hopeful that he had found some kind of a lever to use against his prisoner, but before he gained the jail, there was movement across the darkened street, and a hoarse voice called his name. Ever alert for trouble, he was moving before the echoes of the challenge began to fade, and as he hit the ground, drawing his sixgun as he did so, two guns opened fire at him from an alley opposite, their reddish flashes tearing the dark mantle of the night asunder. Raucous gunshots hammered out the silence and lead thudded all around Merrill. He gritted his teeth and began to return fire, and there was fierce joy inside him. He was in the right place at the right time, and practically on level terms.

  Six

  The hammering echoes of the shooting died away as the two ambushers held their fire, and Merrill stopped shooting because he could see nothing. He had fired at their gun flashes, hoping to score hits, but now silence descended and the darkness shrouded everything. He did not move, aware that his antagonists might be waiting for him to do so, and his teeth were clenched, his eyes slitted as he peered around, ready for more trouble.

  The fact that these men were after him was obvious because his name had been called before the shooting erupted. But why did strangers want to kill him? It did not make sense unless he accepted that someone local had brought in professional gunmen. But if that was the case then these men were not very good at their job, unless he had lost none of his former skill and was proving too much of a handful for them.

  He got up to one knee, reloaded his gun, and prepared to move out. Boots were pounding the sidewalks farther along the street as men came to check up on the disturbance, and then a hoarse voice called from somewhere to Merrill’s left.

  “This is Jake Linnaker, the town marshal. Anyone care to tell me what’s going on?”

  Merrill replied, giving the stark facts, and the town marshal warned him to remain in cover while he went to check the ambushers’ position. Merrill watched tensely, gun covering the local lawman, and then Linnaker yelled that the alley mouth was deserted. Merrill went across slowly, holstering his gun, and he was aware that he had no clue to the identity of the two men who had attacked him. He was still at a big disadvantage. But the town marshal called for a lantern, and when one was brought they saw dark splashes of blood on one of the corners.

  “Looked like you nailed one of them, and pretty bad, judging by these stains,” Linnaker said. “I reckon he wouldn’t have got far like that. Let’s go check the back lots, shall we?” He turned and called to the watching townsmen, who were in the background. “We don’t like ambushers in this town, do we? All of you turn to and take a look around. See if you can find anyone in town wearing a bullet wound.”

  There was a concerted movement, and men began to move away in all directions. Merrill stood on the ambush spot with the town marshal, and the wind moaned along the alley about them. A few moments later, someone yelled that a body had been found, and Merrill and Linnaker went along to the back lots to find a figure sprawled on its face in the dim lamplight that was directed upon it.

  “Turn him over,” Linnaker commanded when someone reported that the man was dead.

  Merrill watched intently, and stared at the strange face that was upturned to the night sky. He had never seen the man before, and his eyes narrowed slightly when he looked at the dark stain of blood on the man’s chest.

  “You hit him good,” Linnaker commented. “Anyone know who this man is? Anyone seen him hanging around?”

  “I saw him in the saloon several times. He was with a couple of others earlier today.” One of the townsmen spoke hesitantly. “Him and them were strangers. I figured they was just resting up for a spell before riding on.”

  “Did any of you see the man I arrested earlier?” Merrill asked. “If so, can you tell me if he was ever in the company of the three men just mentioned?”

  Several of the men shook their heads, and Merrill watched as Linnaker dropped to one knee beside the corpse and went through its pockets. It was a search which revealed nothing interesting, and the town marshal arose and asked someone to tell the local undertaker to collect the body.

  “I’ll take the prisoner along to Mort’s place to view the body and see if he will identify it,” Linnaker said as he and Merrill walked back towards the jail. “But the man you picked up is close-mouthed, and I wouldn’t count on you getting anything at all from him.”

  “Well, I’ve nailed another of the six who first hit me at my place,” Merrill mused. “I’m afraid I’m gonna run out of luck before much longer. But I can’t back down now. I can only try to fight this.”

  “I’ll do what I can to help you. Some of the men will remember the faces of the other men seen around here with the dead man, and if we can pick up the others then your worries will be over.”

  “Thanks, but I’ll believe that when I see them behind bars or dead,” Merrill replied “They’re playing for keeps, and I reckon I’ll have to see them through gunsmoke before this is settled.”

  They entered the law office and Linnaker fetched Chet Wood out of the cells. They took the man along to the undertaker’s place, where the dead man was already being laid out, and Merrill watched Wood’s face closely as they viewed the body. But the prisoner gave no outward sign of recognizing the dead man, and they escorted him back to jail.

  “He never turned a hair,” Linnaker commented when they were back in the office. “But the night is young yet and I’ll go make some enquiries. Leave it to me, Merrill. I’ll get things moving around here, you’ll see.”

  “Thanks. I figure on staying here for a spell, if you’ve got no objections.”

  “Make yourself at home,” came the reply. “I want to get to the bottom of this as much as you do.”

  Merrill nodded and the town marshal departed, leaving him to settle down. He sat at the desk and thought over the situation, but his musing led precisely nowhere, and frustration began to grip his mind. When Linnaker returned some two hours later, Merrill was still thinking about the problems confronting him, and he looked eagerly at the town marshal.

  “I’ve found out a thing or two,” Linnaker said wearily, coming to sit upon a corner of the desk and thumbing back his hat from his forehead. “Our man here, Wood, was seen in the company of the man you killed earlier, whose name was Thompson. There were several other men who associated with the two of them, but they’re no longer around town.”

  “I figure two of them are being buried back at Portville,” Merrill said through his teeth. “The others have pulled out now. But if there were six of them in the first place then there are only two left now. It still doesn’t give me much to work on, does it?” He looked into Linnaker’s taut face. I’m wondering why they were using this town as a headquarters instead of Portville? Wood rode back here after the ambush on me, and the two who shot at me from across the street were already here, or rode in after I arrived and picked up Wood. Any ideas on what they were doing for a living? Does anyone in town remember who they associated with around here?”

  “From what I can learn they kept themselves to themselves. They didn’t have anything to do with anyone living locally. What they did for a living seems to be what they were doing to you.”

  “Where did you get this information from?” Merrill demanded. “Did it come from here and there around town or was there a single informant?”

  “Ike Eppel, the bartender, said he knew them, for they hung around the saloon more than anywhere else.”

  “I think I’ll go along and have a talk with Eppel. He may be able to remember other things about this bunch.”

  “Sure. He was busy
when he talked to me, and I didn’t get the chance to question him closely. Maybe other things will come back to him later. I’d leave it until the morning was I you. Why don’t you get some rest? Have you got yourself a place to stay for the night?”

  “Sure. I’m booked in at the hotel.” Merrill stifled a yawn. “I reckon that’s good advice. I’ll see you in the morning when I’m ready to leave with my prisoner.”

  “And I’ll keep digging for information about this bunch. It’s surprising what a man can learn. Tongues start wagging when I ask questions.”

  “I’m obliged to you.” Merrill left the office, standing in the gloom for a moment before moving on, and then he went to the hotel and went to his room. He dropped across the bed and closed his eyes, falling asleep almost immediately, and the next thing he knew, there was sunlight peeping in at the window.

  After he had eaten breakfast and prepared for the day, Merrill went back to the jail and found the town marshal in the office, looking as if he had not slept all night. Linnaker grinned when Merrill commented about it, and nodded.

  “Yeah, I lose quite a lot of sleep around here at times. But I’m sorry I ain’t been able to come up with anything else on your business. I wish I could have. What time you planning on riding out?”

  “Not before I’ve had the chance to see Ike Eppel, the bartender,” Merrill replied. “Any idea what time he’ll be back in the saloon?”

  “Could be any time during the day. He’ll be sleeping now. If you don’t want to waste any time then go knock him up. He’s got a room in the saloon. There’ll be a couple of cleaners in the place at this time of the day.”

  “I’ll do that. I don’t fancy sitting around town, waiting, when I could be making good time on the trail.”

  He left the office and went along the street to the saloon, entering to find a couple of men busy cleaning up the mess left from the night before. When he asked for Eppel’s room, one of the men jerked a thumb towards the stairs that led to the upper apartments.