Hanging in Wild Wind

by Ralph Cotton

  “You must have come here to meet up with Trueblood, Weeks, Wheeler and the woman,” Sam said matter-of-factly. “I know you were all supposed to get with Ceran and collect your part of the Poindexter job.”

  Ginpole stared at him through a glistening sheen of sweat. “How the hell did you know that?”

  “Weeks is dead, Trueblood is on the run and Kitty Dellaros is over in the new jail right now, handcuffed to a bench. She told me what’s going on.”

  “Shit,” said Ginpole. “Kitty never told a lawman nothing in her life.”

  “You think she’s wanting to learn to make leather goods?” Sam asked. He let the question lie for a moment, then said, “Of course, if she’s lying to me, I’ll see to it she turns old behind bars.”

  Ginpole gripped his belly tighter and winced as pain radiated upward through his chest. Then he let out a breath and said, “Hell, all right, she’s not lying to you. We come to meet here to look the town over . . . then find Ceran and get our money.”

  The gunman swayed and almost fell before he caught himself on the bar edge. Sam nodded and pushed further. “It’s hard to believe Kitty took part in the robbery.”

  “I never said she took part in it,” replied Ginpole.

  “Are you saying she had nothing to do with the robbery?” Sam asked. “If she wasn’t in on it, why would she have any money coming?”

  “Money comes for lots of reasons,” said Ginpole. “I’m not saying no more about it, Ranger.” He raised his pistol and dropped it onto the bar top. On the side wall, Sam watched the door to the alley open a crack, then slowly open more, enough for Clayton Longworth to slip inside the shadowy cantina.

  “It’s all right, Ginpole,” Sam said, seeing a look of fear come upon the gunman’s sweaty face. “He’s a lawman. He’s with me.”

  “That doesn’t . . . buy him much in my book,” Ginpole said, his halting voice growing weaker.

  With his gun out and aimed, Longworth stepped sidelong around the body of the girl on the floor. He glanced down at her, than stared at Ginpole with an expression of pure rage in his eyes. “Where’s the owner, old Emilio?”

  “He’s dead too,” said Ginpole. “He’s lying behind the bar.”

  The words took Sam aback. He started to walk quickly around behind the bar to check on Emilio. Seeing him make the sudden move, the fading gunman shouted, “Stay where you are!” He reached a bloody hand toward the pistol on the bar top.

  Sam stopped, but it was too late.

  As the wounded outlaw reached for the gun, Longworth wasted no time. His Colt bucked twice in his hand, and Harry Ginpole jerked straight up, poker stiff for a second. Then he fell forward, dead on the floor, his gun in his bloody hand.

  Sam stopped and gave Longworth a questioning look.

  “He went for his gun,” the detective said.

  Sam didn’t reply. Instead he went around behind the bar and stooped down beside the old cantina owner. Seeing that Emilio was dead, Sam closed his eyes, stood up and walked back around to where Longworth stood over Ginpole’s sprawled body.

  “I thought he was going to start shooting, Ranger. I swear I did,” Longworth said.

  “Did you count the shots?” Sam asked. He reached down and took Ginpole’s gun from his bloody fingers.

  “What?” Longworth asked, his crushed, swollen hand hanging at his side.

  “When the shooting started, did you count the number of shots fired?” Sam asked.

  “I—I think I counted five, then another one when he shot Ed Ray in the back. Six,” he said.

  “You figure he had time to reload?”

  “What are you telling me, Ranger?” Longworth stared at him.

  Holding Ginpole’s gun in way that kept Longworth from seeing it, Sam said, “Nothing. Forget it. Go get your hand taken care of.”

  “Wait, Ranger. Let me see his gun,” said Longworth.

  “Go on back to the doctor’s,” said Sam.

  “Not until I—” Longworth’s words were cut short as a burly red-bearded man in a black pin-striped suit walked in and stopped with a shotgun in the crook of his arm.

  “What the blazes is going on here?” the man barked. He stared hard at Longworth, as if that was where he wanted the answer to come from.

  “Mr. Bell,” said Longworth, “I didn’t know you were in town.” He straightened as if he’d been called to attention.

  “That’s because you failed to check the hotel desk for any messages. Didn’t you, Longworth?” the man asked almost accusingly.

  “Sir, I only returned to town a few minutes ago,” said Longworth. “I haven’t yet been to the hotel. I stopped first at the doctor’s office.”

  “I saw the wagon out front of the new sheriff’s office,” said the red-bearded man. “I’m glad to see you were able to bring the ore samples we need.” He only glanced at Longworth’s crushed hand. Then he looked at the ranger and said, “I’m Hansen Bell. And who are you, young man?”

  “Excuse me, Mr. Bell,” said Longworth, cutting in to make an introduction. “This is Arizona Territory Ranger Samuel Burrack.”

  “Oh?” Hansen Bell looked the ranger up and down, eyeing the badge on his chest. “I daresay, I have heard of you, sir.”

  “Ranger Burrack, this is my superior, Mr. Hansen Bell, head of security and investigations with Western Railways.”

  “A pleasure, Ranger,” Bell said gruffly. Without waiting for a reply from either of the two young men, Bell looked all around at the blood and the body on the floor and said, “I heard the shots. What went on here, Ranger Burrack?” His question sounded more like a demand.

  The ranger ignored the question. “Why don’t we get Detective Longworth over to the doctor’s office? His hand is in bad shape. We can talk there.”

  “I prefer to talk right here, sir,” Bell insisted, planting his feet. “Is that a problem?”

  “No problem at all, Mr. Bell,” said Sam. “Talk all you want. When you’re finished, you’ll find us at the doctor’s office.”

  Bell saw he wasn’t going to get anywhere bullying the ranger. He offered a tight smile. “Forgive me, Ranger.” As if in afterthought, he said, “You too, Detective Longworth. To the doctor’s office we go.”

  He gestured them both toward the open door as townsmen ventured in off of the boardwalk and looked all around. “All this excitement has made me cross and irritated.” He looked at Longworth’s hand as if just noticing its condition. “What happened to your hand, Detective?” he asked, his countenance more sedate, friendlier as they stepped out onto the boardwalk and down onto the dirt street, where three men lifted Ed Ray Richards’ body and carried it away.

  Bell stopped for only second and pulled his derby from his head in respect for the dead townsman. “Poor bastard,” he said. With a turn of his wrist he placed his hat back atop his head and walked on.

  Once inside the doctor’s office, Sam and Hansen Bell stood, hats in hand, and watched a white-haired doctor escort Longworth back into a treatment room. As the doctor closed an oak door between the two rooms, Sam and Bell heard him say to Longworth, “Run out of here like that again, and you better hope this hand can fix itself.”

  “Sorry, Dr. Ford,” said Longworth as the door closed.

  Sam turned to Bell and began explaining everything that had gone on, including the fact that he had Kitty Dellaros handcuffed to the wooden bench next door. “I’d hoped that Harry Ginpole might slip up and tell me she was involved in the Poindexter robbery. But he didn’t.”

  Bell lowered his voice and asked, “Who says he didn’t?”

  “I say he didn’t,” Sam said, not liking what the man was suggesting.

  “Come, now,” said Bell. “We both know she rides with Ceran—for God’s sake, she’s his strumpet. The judge knows it too. She was there when that robbery occurred. There is absolutely no doubt of it, Burrack.” His voice had gotten more demanding as he spoke.

  “There may be no doubt, but there is no hard proof either, Bell,”
Sam said in an even tone. “There’s only suspicion. I won’t change anything Ginpole told me just to get her railroaded.”

  “If you don’t think she’s guilty, why’d you even bring her here?” Bell asked.

  “I had a body lying with its throat cut inside Wild Wind’s jurisdiction,” Sam said. “It was my job to bring her in, to tell Ed Ray what I saw and turn her over to him. Now that Ed Ray Richards is dead, I have to turn her loose or haul her around with me. I’m still on the trail of Delbert Trueblood, and I’m still hunting for Ceran and his men.”

  “Don’t worry, Ranger Burrack,” Bell said. “I’ll be taking custody of her, for questioning on both the murder of this Andrew Weeks and on the robbery of the Poindexter mine payroll.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t turn her over to you, Mr. Bell,” said Sam. “I can only turn her over to someone in the official capacity of upholding the law in Wild Wind and its surrounding jurisdiction.”

  “I understand, Ranger. And that would be me,” Bell said firmly. “Only yesterday, Ed Ray Richards and the other two town selectmen signed over the power of office to Western Railways Transportation until such time as a proper election for sheriff can be held.”

  “You have papers to that effect?” Sam asked.

  “Of course,” said Bell, his hand going inside his lapel as he spoke and producing a folded document. He handed the document to the ranger, who opened and read it silently.

  “Will that be sufficient, Ranger Burrack?” Bell asked coolly.

  Satisfied, Sam folded the document and handed it back to Bell. “Yes, it will,” he said. “But I want to tell you that I have no proof of Kitty Dellaros participating in the Poindexter robbery. As to the killing of Andy Weeks, it’ll be hard to prove it wasn’t self-defense.”

  “Be that as it may,” said Bell, “Territory Judge Lawrence Olin will be through here in less than two weeks. It will be his call. Meanwhile I have no intention of allowing that woman out of Wild Wind, or even out of my sight.” He jammed the folded document back inside his lapel and stared closely at the ranger. “You said Ginpole told you he was to meet her and the others here, to look the town over?”

  “That’s what he said,” Sam replied.

  “That can only mean Ceran is waiting and biding his time. As soon as he sees large amounts of revenue coming into Wild Wind, he and his thieves and murderers will set upon this town like vultures.”

  “That’s the way I see it,” Sam agreed.

  “Then it’s all settled,” said Bell. “I’m taking her off your hands.”

  Sam nodded. If this was the way Wild Wind wanted to handle its law work, he was not the one to argue the point. Thinking about Kitty Dellaros’ locket, which he still carried in his pocket, he said to Bell, “I’m walking next door and checking on Kitty before I leave. I’ll leave her razor in the bottom desk drawer for evidence if you need it.”

  “Before you leave?” said Bell. “But you just got here.”

  “I told you, I’m still tracking Trueblood,” he said, turning to the door.

  “I’ll be right along behind you,” said Bell. “I want to see this woman myself.”

  Chapter 10

  Kitty Dellaros looked up as the ranger walked in through the front door. “Well, Ranger,” Kitty said, eyeing Sam up and down, “I see you’ve made it back in one piece.”

  “Who got their bell rung, Ranger?” Price Cullen called out from the cell on the back wall.

  Ignoring the prisoner’s question, Sam reached into his trouser pocket, pulled the locket and held it out toward Kitty’s free hand. “Here. I didn’t forget,” he said. “I always keep my word.”

  “Thanks for giving it back to me, Ranger,” said Kitty. “I wouldn’t have let you get away without reminding you.” She took the cheap tin locket, checked it and put it away. “I’ll give you back your clothes as soon as I get some of my own.” She looked at him closely and asked in her playful way, “No chance of me getting my razor, huh?”

  “None in the world,” said Sam. “It’s going in a drawer here, as evidence. There’s no hurry on the clothes. I’m going to be leaving here real soon.”

  “Oh?” said Kitty. “Did Ed Ray say he’s going to keep me here?”

  “Here’s some bad news for you, Kitty. Your friend Harry Ginpole is lying dead over in the cantina. He killed Ed Ray.”

  “Ginpole . . .” Kitty appeared to consider the name. “I’m afraid I never had the pleasure.”

  “Don’t lie to me, Kitty,” said Sam. “He told me he was here to meet you and the other three.”

  “Oh?” Kitty said. “And what else did this Mr. Ginpole have to say?”

  “Stop it,” said Sam, “or I won’t even talk to you about him.”

  “I can’t say I’m real broken up about Ed Ray,” Kitty said. She let out a breath and started to say something more. But before she could, Hansen Bell walked through the door and stood in front of her.

  Sam gestured toward the big man. “Kitty, this is Detective Chief Hansen Bell. He’s Detective Longworth’s superior.”

  “Oh,” said Kitty, trying to warm up to Bell right away, “are we going to get to be friends, Detective Chief Hansen Bell?”

  “No, we’re not,” Bell said flatly.

  “In that case, Ranger,” she said to Sam in a playful tone, “I refuse to stay here. Unlock these cuffs and take me away from here.”

  Bell made no attempt at recognizing her sense of humor. He pounced right away. Leaning down close to her face, he said in a threatening tone, “Listen to me, you little tramp. Your party is over. Ed Ray is dead. He was a good man, and one of your outlaw pals killed him. You’re in my custody now.” He thumped his thick thumb on his chest. “You do not want to trifle around and play games with me. I will tolerate none of it!”

  “Where did they dig up this sack of pig fodder?” Kitty snapped back, leaning into his face with the same scornful, threatening look.

  “Where?” Bell said in his rage. “I’ll tell you where I’m from.” He thrust his face only an inch from hers. “I’m from a place where we sweep scum like you into a pile and burn it.”

  But Kitty did not give an inch.

  “Get him out of my face, Ranger,” she said, her voice the low growl of a wild cat.

  “Ease up, Bell,” Sam said, seeing from the look on the woman’s face that at any second she would go for the man’s eyes with her nails. Sam took the stocky man by his shoulder to pull him back.

  But Bell didn’t listen. He rounded his thick shoulder away from the ranger and said only inches from Kitty’s face, “Don’t look to the ranger for help. You belong to me now. What I do is strictly up to—”

  “Oh-hhh!” said Price Cullen, seeing Bell stagger back a step as Kitty’s nails made a gash across his face just below his eyes.

  “She got him good!” said Cadden Cullen, laughing aloud at the sight of a big man like Bell cowering back, crouching, a hand pressed to his bearded face.

  “Why, you little harlot,” Bell said through clenched teeth. He drew back an open palm to slap her across the face, but as he started to swing, Sam stepped in between the two. He grabbed Bell’s wrist and stood facing Bell as closely as the detective had faced Kitty.

  “You’re not going to hit her. Put it out of your mind,” Sam said in a lowered but unyielding voice.

  Bell resisted the ranger’s grip, but only for moment. Then, reading the look on the ranger’s face, he eased up. “All right . . . all right. I lost my head.” He lowered his hand as the ranger released his grip on his thick wrist. “I’m okay now.”

  “See that you are,” the ranger cautioned him, still keeping himself planted between Kitty and the burly red-bearded detective.

  Stepping back, Bell pulled a white handkerchief from his coat and touched it to two bloody cuts across his cheek and the bridge of his nose. “Some of these whores have nails like knife blades.”

  Sam thought about the razor he’d taken from Kitty and reminded himself just how lucky Bell had
been that the razor wasn’t still hidden among her clothing.

  “I’m not a whore, mister,” Kitty said coolly. “If I were, a pig like you couldn’t afford me.”

  She grinned smugly. The ranger could tell she had Bell where she wanted him. He had cooled Bell down and kept him from losing his temper. Now she knows she can taunt him all she likes, Sam thought. She knew he wouldn’t lose his head again. If he did, so what?

  Sam stared at her, seeing the confident look in her eyes, knowing that she was counting on him not to let Bell manhandle her. They had both shown her enough to let her see that she could play them one against the other. A game she is good at, Sam told himself.

  “I don’t like leaving her here with you, Bell,” Sam said.

  “Be that as it may, Ranger,” said Bell. “I have the authority.” He dabbed at the cuts. “But you needn’t worry. I’m not going to harm her.”

  The Ranger wasn’t going to say it right now, but it wasn’t Bell that he was concerned about. He’d seen what Kitty could do both with a razor and without. He saw Kitty’s smug grin turn to a subtle smile, as if she knew what he’d just thought.

  “I promise I’ll be good, Ranger,” she said. She crossed one knee over the other. “But if you really wanted to, you could get the two of us a room. You could keep me in your custody until the judge arrives. You could do that, couldn’t you?”

  “Holy God!” shouted Price Cullen. “Can he really do that?”

  “If he can, I want to be a ranger!” Cadden Cullen joined in.

  Bell pointed a thick finger toward the cell. “You two, that’s enough out of you. Shut up, or you’ll get no grub come meal time.”

  “Damn, that’s harsh and inhuman treatment, don’t you think, brother?” Cadden said to Price in a lowered voice.

  “Yes, I think so,” Price replied in the same lowered tone. “But what do I know? I’m just an outlaw.”

  Ignoring the Cullens, Sam said to Bell, “If I thought you were going to abuse this office, I’d go to the selectmen—”