by Corba Sunman
‘I’ll take you back to the fort and put you in the guardhouse,’ Moran decided. ‘That way I’ll be sure of finding you in the morning.’
‘There’s a lot been happening around here that you won’t even begin to straighten out, and it might pay you to do a deal with me. I’ll disappear over the nearest hill and you’ll be able to clean up with no trouble at all. How does that grab you?’
‘No deal.’ Moran shook his head. ‘I’m making headway with my investigation so I don’t need any help from you.’ He put the money into his pocket and motioned with his gun. ‘Let’s go,’ he added. ‘You’re not the only one who needs some sleep, and I’ve got a busy day tomorrow.’
Bowtell was silent on the ride to the fort. Moran remained fully alert; half-expecting his prisoner to make an attempt to escape, but Bowtell remained motionless in his saddle, and stepped down from his mount when they arrived at the door of the guardhouse. Sergeant Comer was at his desk, and got to his feet when he noted that Moran was holding a drawn gun.
‘What’s going on, Captain?’ Comer saluted and remained at attention.
‘I’ve arrested the town marshal and I want him held in close arrest while an investigation is made into his activities. Have you got a separate cell? He’s not to be permitted to talk to anyone.’
‘I can take care of that, sir,’ Comer said.
Moran stood with his gun in his hand while Bowtell was searched, had all belongings removed, and was taken to a cell. Comer locked the cell door and faced Moran.
‘Are there any special orders for the prisoner, sir?’
‘Only that no one is allowed to talk to him.’ Moran turned to leave. He paused in the doorway and looked back at the police sergeant. ‘I’ll be back in the morning. Has the sutler said anything since he’s been in here?’
‘He’s not in here, Captain. Major Harmon returned from town a short while ago, and came in when he heard Mr Reinhardt had been arrested. The Major said he would be responsible for the sutler, and I released him from custody. I know what you said, sir, but the Major gave me orders.’
‘You did what?’ Moran bellowed.
‘There was nothing else I could do, sir. I had to obey the Major.’
‘I want to see the town marshal in his cell in the morning,’ Moran rapped. ‘If by any chance the Major wants Bowtell released then refer him to me.’
‘I’ll do that, sir.’
Moran departed, went across to the officers’ quarters, and tapped on Harmon’s door. The Major jerked it open, and his expression hardened when he saw Moran.
‘You want to see me about releasing Mr Reinhardt from close custody, eh?’ Harmon said. ‘I can assure you that he will be here when you want to talk to him.’
‘That’s not the point, Major. I arrested Reinhardt to prevent him contacting others who share his guilt. I’ve just returned from Cactusville with the town marshal under arrest, and I planned to question both men separately and get down in writing just what they’ve been doing around here. You had no right to turn Reinhardt loose, and I view your action as bad judgement.’
Harmon’s expression hardened and his mouth pulled into a thin, uncompromising line. ‘I don’t want to pull rank on you, Captain,’ he snapped, ‘but I am the commanding officer of this fort, and while you are here, you are under my command.’
‘You are labouring under a misapprehension, Major. While I am in this fort and working on an investigation, I exceed all ranks and you cannot interfere.’ Moran reached into his pocket, produced his papers, and selected a small card, which he thrust under Harmon’s nose. ‘Read that, Major, and note the signature. It is signed by General Whittaker, the commanding general of this military area, and states that I am to receive full co-operation, without let or hindrance, from everyone I approach, regardless of rank.’
‘You didn’t show this to me when you arrived,’ Harmon blustered.
‘Well now you’ve seen it, sir. I want Reinhardt back in the guardhouse immediately, and no interference in future. I hope I make myself clear, Major.’
‘I’ll send Sergeant Comer and two men to pick up Reinhardt and place him back behind bars, Captain,’ Harmon said stiffly.
‘I’ll pick up Reinhardt myself.’ Moran turned, departed, and went to the sutler’s store.
He wondered why Harmon had interfered. Was the commanding officer involved in the trouble? Moran intended finding out, and it would be a bad day for anyone who disobeyed orders in the future.
He entered the store and discovered that Reinhardt was not there. A big man was seated at the sutler’s desk, engaged in checking a couple of thick ledgers. He looked up at Moran when he was disturbed in his task, his dark eyes unfriendly, his fleshy face set in a harsh expression.
‘What do you want, Captain?’ he growled.
‘Reinhardt! Where is he?’
‘As far as I know he went into town, and left me with a pile of work to do.’
‘Who are you and what is your job here?’
‘I’m Gus Vernon, Reinhardt’s manager.’
‘Then you’re just the man I need to talk to. You must know just about everything that goes on around here. What’s the connection between Reinhardt and Bowtell, the town marshal?’
‘Connection? I don’t know what you mean, Captain.’
‘I suspect you do, judging by your expression. There’s a criminal connection between them and I am carrying out an investigation. If you have any knowledge at all about what’s going on, you’d be well advised to tell me about it.’
Vernon shrugged. ‘I’m still in the dark, Captain. You’ll have to spell it out to me. I’m not aware of anything crooked going on. Mr Reinhardt is strictly honest. That’s how he comes across to me. He does a good job here, and doesn’t get much in the way of thanks for it.’
‘I’ll see that he gets justice,’ said Moran sharply. ‘Shut the store and come with me. I’ll put you behind bars until morning. I’m sure you’ll know the answers to most of the questions I’ll ask.’
Vernon closed his ledgers with great deliberation and got up off his chair, his expression showing his feelings. Moran could see he would have trouble, and edged his hand closer to his holstered gun. Vernon came forward, his hands in plain view. As he passed Moran to the door, his right elbow lifted quickly and he reached for a gun under his coat. Moran saw a weapon appear in Vernon’s fist and swung towards him.
Moran drew his pistol and presented the muzzle at Vernon, who quickly realized that he had lost the initiative and was in deep trouble. He released his grip on his gun before Moran could complete his move and was in the process of raising his hands when Moran struck him with the muzzle of his gun.
Vernon fell to the floor and made no attempt to move. Moran covered him. Vernon was breathing heavily, looking up at him and shaking his head.
‘I’m not involved in anything, Captain,’ he said quickly.
‘So why did you resist?’
‘Panic, I expect. I won’t give you any more trouble.’
‘You could have been killed.’ Moran picked up Vernon’s discarded weapon, a two-shot pocket gun, and dropped it into his pocket. ‘Get up and head for the guardhouse,’ he said. ‘I guess you know where it is. And you’d better do a lot of thinking about your situation before I get around to questioning you in the morning.’
They went to the guardhouse, and Moran stood watching while Vernon was taken into custody. When the cell door was closed and locked, Moran peered at Vernon.
‘Where will I find Reinhardt when I get to town?’ he asked.
‘You won’t find him in town. He’ll be at his cattle ranch four miles to the west of Cactusville. You’d do well to wait until daylight before thinking of arresting him. He’s got a real salty crew out there, and they shoot first and ask questions afterwards, especially at night. It would be better to ask at the saloon for Bill Nielsen. Tell him I sent you, and he’ll take you out to Reinhardt’s place.’
‘Why are you suddenly so helpful?’ Moran
demanded.
‘I don’t see any other way out of this fix,’ Vernon replied.
Moran fetched his horse and set out for Cactusville. He rode through the black night, following the light-coloured trail that stretched out endlessly through the shadows. He was wary, regarding each shadow on the trail as if it were someone waiting to ambush him. When he reached town, he dismounted at the hitch rail in front of the saloon, wrapped his reins around the rail and went into the noisy building. The evening was now well advanced and the saloon was crowded. At the far end the pianist was playing a melody. Moran looked around for Ruth, and was disappointed not to see her. He went to the bar and called the bartender, who looked as if he was being run off his feet. When Moran asked for Nielsen, the ’tender shook his head.
‘He ain’t here right now. Reinhardt came in a short while ago and sent Nielson out on a job. Nielsen said he wouldn’t be back tonight; said he’d got another job to do later that wouldn’t wait.’
‘How do I get to Reinhardt’s cattle spread from here?’ Monroe asked.
The ’tender glanced around. ‘That cowboy in the corner in the green shirt is Frank Donovan. I’ll have a word with him and he’ll likely agree to show you the way.’
Moran waited. The ’tender went across to the corner table and spoke to the man in the green shirt, who looked across at Moran and nodded. The ’tender returned.
‘Donovan will be leaving in half an hour and he’ll show you the way to Reinhardt’s place,’ the ’tender said.
Moran sat at a table with a glass of beer until the cowboy threw in his hand and got up from his seat. He came to Moran – a big man with a cheerful face and laughing blue eyes. He was dressed in range clothes, and his voice was affable when he spoke.
‘You look like you’ve got some bad news for the boss,’ Donovan said. ‘He ain’t in trouble, is he?’
‘No, as a matter of fact, he isn’t,’ Moran replied. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘He always talks like that. Ask him how his business is going and he’ll usually say he’s expecting trouble.’
They left the saloon and Donovan fetched his horse from the livery barn. Moran went with him, leading his own horse, and when Donovan mounted a grey, they set off along a trail heading east. The moon was in the eastern half of the sky and cast long silver fingers of cold brilliance into the dark shadows on the range. Moran remained silent for most of the trip while Donovan talked about local conditions.
Reinhardt’s range lay stark under the starlight. They clattered into the yard and Donovan reined in. Spots of yellow lamplight showed at lower windows in the shapeless pile of the ranch house, and brighter lights gleamed in several windows in a long, low building across the yard.
‘That’s the house over there,’ said Donovan, pointing to the right. ‘Ride straight over and knock at the door. There’s a guard around somewhere who will have seen you come in with me. I’m for the bunkhouse – time to hit the sack.’
‘Thanks for showing me the way,’ Moran said, and Donovan moved off.
Moran rode across the yard and stepped down from his saddle. He wrapped his reins around a hitch rail and looked around, his right hand close to the butt of his holstered gun. As he stepped on to the porch and knocked on the ranch house door, a voice spoke from the heavy shadows along the porch, its owner invisible in the darkness between two windows.
‘You’re in uniform; so what’s your business with Mr Reinhardt?’
‘That’s not for you to know,’ Moran replied. ‘Is Reinhardt here?’
‘What do you want, Moran?’ The house door opened at that moment and Reinhardt was silhouetted in the doorway.
‘We have some unfinished business to discuss.’ Moran moved towards Reinhardt, who stepped back into the house. ‘No need to wait until tomorrow. There’s no time like the present.’
‘Come in then. Hey, Walker, be ready for trouble.’
‘What kind of trouble?’ the guard asked.
‘If you don’t know the answer then you’re fired,’ Reinhardt rasped.
Moran entered the house and closed the door. Reinhardt was in a dressing gown. He was smiling, which bothered Moran, for with the trouble facing him, Reinhardt should have been greatly worried.
‘I had plans for interrogating you in the fort,’ Moran said.
‘You didn’t expect me to remain behind bars, did you, when the Major turned me loose?’ Reinhardt laughed. ‘You don’t have a chance, Moran. The cards are stacked against you.’
‘I’m looking at the situation from a different aspect,’ Moran said. ‘My sums add up differently to yours. I can see the outline of the crookedness based on the fort – you, Major Harmon, and Bowtell are running it. All I have to do is secure the details, like where does Clark fit into the action. I’m beginning to think that he is not guilty of murder, as he says.’
‘You’ve spoken to Clark?’ Reinhardt’s manner changed and his eyes expressed shock.
Moran observed the sutler for several moments, and then laughed harshly. ‘I wouldn’t want to be in your boots when the facts of what’s been going on start coming out. If you want any chance of getting out of this with the minimum of trouble then you’d better start co-operating with me. In these crime combines, the top men usually get away with it because they’ve covered their tracks, but there are always some who carry the can, and they end up with the book being thrown at them. You look like being one of the losers who will be left holding the bag, and there are at least two murders to be hung around someone’s neck.’
‘I don’t know anything about crime. I have nothing to hide. Check my books and ask around town. I’m clean, Captain, and always have been. If there is anything bad going on around here then you can take it from me that I am not involved.’
‘When I overheard you talking at the fort with Marshal Bowtell, you handed a wad of greenbacks to him and said you were halting all activities until I had finished my investigation. Bowtell offered to kill me but you didn’t want that. So you are lying through your teeth when you say your slate is clean. When I arrested Bowtell, he saw instantly that there was no way out for him and he admitted being a part of the trouble, but he would not talk about why you gave him that dough so I’m asking you. Stop wasting my time, and if you take my advice, you’ll tell the truth and hope there’s a loophole somewhere through which you can escape. It’s your only chance, and if you miss it, you’ll stand accused with the rest of the guilty men I’m going to round up.’
The door opened at that moment and two men entered. One was Donovan, who had brought Moran to the ranch, and the other was the guard on duty on the porch. Donovan was holding a pistol in his hand, the muzzle aimed unerringly at Moran. The guard moved to one side to cover Moran from another angle.
‘I’m sorry to interrupt you, boss,’ Donovan said, ‘but I got to thinking about bringing this man into the ranch. Did I do right?’
‘You did wrong,’ Reinhardt said, grinning. ‘But you’re doing the right thing now so I forgive you. Disarm the Captain and hogtie him. He knows too much. I want you and Walker to take him out on the range and kill him. He’s bad trouble, so don’t make any mistakes. Kill him and bury him deep.’
CHAPTER NINE
Moran was taken completely by surprise, and with two guns covering him from different angles, he was unable to attempt to turn the tables on these alert-eyed men. He stood motionless while Donovan came forward to disarm him, and the cowboy grinned as he lifted Moran’s pistol from its holster.
‘Nothing personal,’ he said. ‘Just don’t try anything. I’m wise to all the tricks.’
‘While you’re at it, Donovan, there’s a female up in the front bedroom. She’s the singer from the big saloon in town. She’s been asking a lot of questions about the fort. Someone said she is a sister of that lieutenant who was shot dead in the fort from Spyglass Hill.’
‘Lieutenant Sandwell,’ Donovan said. ‘What do you want me to do with her?’
‘Kill two birds with one stone. Tak
e her along with Moran and bury them both.’
Moran was shocked by the news, and remained motionless and silent with Walker’s rifle covering him. Reinhardt led Donovan up to the bedrooms. Moran recognized Ruth’s voice as she was brought protesting down the stairs, and his thoughts swirled with conjecture as he wondered how she had managed to get herself caught up in this dangerous situation.
Ruth was bustled into the bottom room, protesting and struggling in Donovan’s strong grip and, when she saw Moran standing motionless under guard, she became still and fell silent, gazing at him in astonishment.
‘What are you doing here, Captain?’ she demanded. ‘I was hoping you were getting to grips with these bad men and would come and save me from them, but it looks like you’re in the same plight as me.’
‘I am temporarily at a disadvantage,’ Moran said. ‘But there’s nothing to worry about.’
‘That’s putting it mildly.’ Reinhardt grinned. ‘I’m sorry to disappoint you, Miss Sandwell, but Captain Moran has understated the situation. He’s on his way to a lonely grave on the range and you’re going with him. You two can share a grave, so it won’t be so lonely.’ He looked at Donovan. ‘You know what to do so don’t slip up. Do this right and come back here afterwards.’
‘Sure, boss.’ Donovan pushed Moran in the back. ‘Get moving. I need to get some sleep before sun up.’
They left the ranch house. Donovan left Moran and Ruth on the porch under the menace of Walker’s rifle and went to fetch horses for himself and the girl. Moran glanced into Ruth’s face as she gazed into the lamplight issuing from a window. He had two small guns in his pockets, but he wanted to get away from the ranch before attempting an escape. He had no idea how many men Reinhardt employed at the ranch, and he needed the odds to be as short as possible.
Donovan returned, riding his horse and leading another. He dismounted at the porch and drew his pistol as he confronted Moran.