Long knew he had found something from the grin. “They’re riding in from the south. There is a cocky-acting guy leading them in. Three guys and some putas riding mules.”
“If he breaks shoot him. That is Newman.”
“Got’cha. I didn’t tell Collie. But he will hear them.” The sound of the mules braying made Long smile and nod. That miserable killer Newman was only seconds away from being taken or shot.
He and Ira were ready when Newman shouted, “Your women are here like I promised. Where the hell are you at?”
“Right here . . . get your hands in the air or die.” He and Ira had them covered. Gun in hand, Collie stepped out of the barn to back them.
Long went down the porch stairs, rifle raised ready to shoot him. When Long reached Newman’s horse, he jerked him out of the saddle and facedown onto the ground. Then he stepped on his arm and disarmed him. His six-gun in his waistband he stepped back, lowering his rifle but still at the ready. “Didn’t Fargo come?”
“I don’t know any Fargo. Who are you?”
“Long O’Malley.”
“Son of a bitch how did I not kill you?”
“Who pays you and Fargo?”
“No one.”
Long asked him, “You see that lake? You can tell me who he is or drown in it.”
“I ain’t telling you anything.”
“Then you will become fish food. Tie those three up.”
The three Mexican girls huddled defensively, holding the reins of their mules.
Long walked over there to them. “We won’t hurt you, ladies. These banditos have seen the last of their days. I will pay you and you can go home.”
They nodded woodenly.
He walked back and put his rifle muzzle to Newman’s head. “Undo that money belt and don’t try one move.”
“How?”
“Get on your knees. Know my hammer is cocked.”
He tore open his shirt and snaked the heavy belt out.
“Drop it.”
“They’re tied up,” Ira said. “Let me and Collie get that information out of him.”
“I want to know where Fargo is and who the man footing the bill is and where he lives.”
One on each of his arms, Ira and Colie hauled Newman to the lake. They dunked him, once, twice, and then him sputtering, they pulled him up by his hair and he couldn’t get the words out fast enough.
“Fargo is up at Mason on the Burgess Ranch,” he gasped, and vomited.
“Who is the man furnished the money?”
“This will get me killed.”
“Tell me. He may miss but I won’t stop short of drowning you.”
“His name is—John Q. Blaine.”
“He wanted this ranch. Why?”
“Years ago he was on a deer-hunting trip and saw the lake and tried to buy it, but the state wanted too much money. He kept trying to buy it, but your agent struck a deal with the carpetbaggers to buy all the land around it. The lake area was empty.”
“And?”
“Fargo said we could run your asses off the land first, then take the lake.”
“Newman, we are the O’Malley brothers, and you should never have messed with us.”
“I agree.”
“Tie him up. I may strangle him barehanded.”
Long grabbed up the money belt. He took out several twenty-dollar bills and gave it to the girls. “Go home. Say nothing. Those mules are yours.”
One crossed her forehead and bowed. The other two threw him kisses. Then they climbed on their mules and galloped away.
“I seen prettier ones,” Ira said.
“I’m sorry.”
“No, I did not want any one of them.”
Long laughed. “We have Newman and his men. Before the word gets out, we need to arrest Fargo up at Mason, then ride to Dallas and get that Blaine fellow. I need to talk to a prosecutor about swearing out a warrant for him.”
Still holding the money belt, Long turned to Ira. “I don’t know how much money is in this belt. Split it with Collie. You guys have taken all the chances to catch them.” He handed the money belt to his man.
“Well thanks. You don’t have to do this.”
“I know what I have to do. You two earned it.”
“You know, I bet that big man in Dallas will have some high-priced lawyers.”
“Even in occupied Texas, the law is upheld.”
“Maybe,” Ira said.
“Oh, it will be.”
“Tomorrow we’ll take these prisoners to the ranch. Then we need to go find Fargo before he runs off. So we really have to move. We should be proud. Three cowboys have caught a gang of killers and found the guy behind it.”
“Damn good deal,” Collie said. “That belt I mean.”
“You two have any women you might want to marry if I raised you both up to foreman wages when we get home?”
Ira blinked at Collie. “By damn, Long, we can find someone.”
“Find yourselves one.”
Collie threw his Stetson in the air and howled. “We damn sure can do that, boss man.”
The trip back to the main ranch the next day was slower than he wanted, but right after noon the other posse members found them on the road and took over the prisoners. Everyone was excited and had to know how they were found.
“Boys, have any of you seen that lake down in the southwest corner on the border of our ranch?”
Some had.
“A real rich man saw it deer hunting some time back and decided he wanted it. Someone else owned it, but I met the man who owned it and he wanted my brother and I to buy it. We were starting to talk about it. The man who wanted the land thought we already owned it, so he hired Newman and Fargo to make trouble so we would sell it. We have Newman and his men. Fargo is next, and we need to be at the house where he is hiding by morning and we still have to park all these prisoners at the ranch, then ride all night to Mason.”
The man in charge of the second group said, “We’ll get fresh horses at the ranch for you. We wondered why you didn’t come in, and we’ve been out looking for you.”
“I know. We stayed out overnight because, once we caught the original gang, we overheard them say Newman was coming the next day. He showed up and we arrested him and three more of his men. He told us, after some dunking, where Fargo is staying over at Mason. I want him, too. So we will hold these prisoners at the ranch until we get Fargo into the Kerrville jail, then we’ll bring these guys in, too.”
“Who is this big rich man hired them?” the cowboy called Carlos asked.
“John Q. Blaine. He lives in Dallas.”
“Will these men talk?”
“Some of them will. They are facing murder charges for killing two of the ranch hands, but I will need a sworn statement from Newman or Fargo to go up and arrest Blaine. I think we’ll get it. And congratulations to everyone. This should stop the problems of the raids on our ranches.”
They hurried on toward the ranch as the sun was setting.
When they arrived several hands and the armed guards swarmed them to learn about the tied-up outlaws.
“Six of us need fresh horses. Carlos, pick two more men to ride with us three. We need to go up to Mason and arrest the other leader before daybreak. Anyone know where the Burgess Ranch is up there?”
“Sir, it’s on the road goes north out of town. It’s a big brick house on the right on the first hill after you leave town. What did they do?”
“They are hiding an outlaw named Jennings.”
He watched as the prisoners were taken off their horses. One of the hands said they had a tight place to jail them.
“Take any knives or objects off them and take their boots off so they can’t run away,” Long said. “I want them held for the law.”
“The cook has some apple pie for us to eat. The men are changing your gear to fresh horses. They will feed the rest in a while, but pie is all he had right now,” Carlos said.
Long nodded. All was going
well.
The cook and his helper fed each of them two pieces of pie and apologized.
Collie laughed. “Hell, I’d rather eat your pie.”
Long agreed. When they finished and mounted up, Carlos told him Ted knew the ranch’s location. They set out in the dark for Mason. Long decided the stars would shed enough light until the moon rose in an hour to help them navigate. They made good time and rode through the empty streets of Mason, waking a few dogs, well after midnight.
The big brick two-story house looked stark under the tall pecan trees. Long’s mounted riders surrounded the house.
Two rifles were shot in the air to break the night. Long stood in the saddle and shouted, “Come out, hands in the air, and you won’t get shot. But if there is any resistance we will shoot everyone and burn the house down.”
One woman opened a second-story window. “Give us time to dress.”
“You can save that. Tell Fargo to get out here.”
“He isn’t here.”
“He better not be or you all will go to jail for harboring a criminal.”
“Cut the talking,” a hatless man said, coming out the front door pulling up his suspenders.”
Long set down in the saddle smiling. “Gentlemen. Meet Fargo Jennings.”
Two of his men dismounted quickly and brought him to Long’s horse.
“What are you doing here?” Jennings asked. “They told me you were up north of Junction.”
“I came home to stop the murdering that you and Newman have been involved in.”
“You don’t have any witnesses. How can you do anything?”
“I have about a dozen cowboys facing being hung that will testify against both you and Newman, for better sentences.”
“I’ll have lawyers that’ll talk rings around any prosecutor you have.”
“No, Jennings. You better start praying a lot. If you walk out of that courtroom free, I will gun you down in the street for killing my men, and that’s not a threat. That is a promise.
“Boys, put a lariat around his neck. We’re riding, him running behind. If he tries anything or falls down along the way, drag him till he’s dead.”
“You can’t do that—”
Long moved his horse closer. “You better know how to run, because we will be trotting our horses all the way back to Kerrville.”
“No!”
Ira dandled the reata that was around Jennings’s neck, then around the horn of his saddle and started out. His action jerked Jennings into the dust.
Long rode over as the man gagged and tried to loosen the rawhide-braided rope.
“Jennings, you better listen or you won’t live to make it back to Mason. Now start jogging . . . we’re heading out.”
“I-I—”
“All you have to do is jog and not fall down. Go ahead, Ira.”
He made it the short distance back to Mason. They gave him a short breather, and Collie went to rent a horse from the livery. Obviously, on purpose, Collie chose a horse with a high backbone for him to sit on bareback. It would be a rough ride.
“I paid five bucks for the horse,” Collie said, riding by Long. “Didn’t have time to dicker.”
“I’ll reimburse you.”
“No, he’s my gift. Now we can trot and I, maybe, with all this done, can find that gal you talked about.”
“Which one?”
“The one you told me to marry.”
“Good.” Long laughed.
The Bexar County jailhouse in Kerrville was the Texas arm of the law in that widespread county. The only other county west of Bexar was Mason. They had to have enough citizens to set up a county. For the rest, they didn’t have enough people so they did county business at some outside posts of Bexar or went to San Antonio as the headquarters. The jail accepted Jennings as charged with two murders and armed assault.
The deputy said he didn’t have the funds to ship him to San Antonio or feed the rest of them when Long would bring them in.
“How many leg irons you got?”
“A dozen.”
They had ten men, and Newman, as prisoners at the ranch. Jennings made the twelfth.
Worn out, he told the men that one of them needed to take the leg irons to the blacksmith and have leg irons welded on each one four feet apart. Then he wanted extra rivets to lock them on their legs.
Exhausted, he finally sat down.
“Long?” Ira said. “Let’s lock this smart-talking bastard in the jail. We’ll figure out who takes the leg irons to the ranch. He’ll put them prisoners in leg irons and bring them back in a wagon while the rest of us sleep. Add Jennings to the chained ones and then we can haul them to San Antonio.”
“That is good planning. I agree . . . who will take the legs irons?”
“I’ll take them and then I won’t be back. Someone else can drive the wagon back. I’m going to sleep two days.”
“A driver and an armed guard to bring them back? That works. The rest of us will be sleeping at the livery. Tell them to wake us up when they get back with the ranch prisoners.”
“I sure will. And I’ll send fresh horses for all of you.”
“We will need them. Thanks.”
They stuck Jennings in the hoosegow, then Long and his bunch went to the first café they came to, ate steaks, and then wandered back to bunk in the livery. No one had to rock Long to sleep, and when they woke him it was dark. He had not slept for long enough, but he wanted this job over.
* * *
On fresh horses the ranch crew brought, the wagon was loaded with the dozen in irons, and they set out under the stars. At dawn, they found a roadside café and a good-looking blond woman waited on them. He ordered oatmeal for the prisoners.
She asked him if he wanted raisins, sugar, and cream.
“None of the above. They are prisoners. Oatmeal in a bowl and a spoon.”
He and the somewhat refreshed six-man team had ham, scrambled eggs, syrup, and pancakes with coffee.
At dark the next day, they were close to fifteen miles from their goal. Ira, scouting ahead, found a woman living on the side of the road who agreed to cook a big pot of beans with ham in it and a Dutch oven peach cobbler for twelve dollars. He told Long that he paid her twenty.
“Is she good looking?”
“Not that good.”
“Just asking?”
They both laughed.
The poor woman ran out of bowls and pots, so some ate their food from coffee cups, but they all bragged on her. Long decided that was because they didn’t have to cook it. But her peach cobbler was wonderful, and there was lots of it.
Collie told him if she started a café she’d be busy when folks found her.
However, Long could see his men didn’t consider her bride material.
They camped there for the night, and she cooked oatmeal for them at sunup. They all thanked her. She told them to stop anytime and thanked them for their generosity.
Mid-afternoon they set the brake on the wagon in front of the courthouse. Long and Ira went ahead to find the sheriff and the jail.
“May I help you?” a desk officer asked.
“I have a dozen prisoners that committed murders, raids on innocent people, and other crimes.”
“You a deputy?”
“No. I am a private citizen from up by Kerrville and I have these killers in irons out in a wagon. The sheriff sent ten men up there, but they never found them. Us private citizens did and we brought them here.”
“Your name?”
“My name is Long John O’Malley. I am an owner of several ranches and very tired of these outlaws running over my ranchers. Will you accept them? Decide or I am going to noose them and toss them one at a time out of the wagon and drag them back to Kerrville for burial.”
“Wait. Let me get my boss, Under-Sheriff Cal Newton.”
A man in a suit and a badge emerged from the back office. “Mr. O’Malley, what can I do for you?”
“It’s what I can do for you. Your s
heriff sent ten men up to our ranch to find raiders and killers who murdered two of our men and wounded three more. They found no one. We have the two top men that ordered the raids, and ten more of the outlaws that did the deeds. We brought them here for trial, since your deputy in Kerrville had no money to ship them to you.”
“What evidence do you have?”
“I have four men ready to testify to what they did and who their bosses were.”
“This arrest is highly unusual.”
“Go get your boss. He promised my father, Hiram O’Malley, that he would back us if we found the raiders.”
“He’s in Fort Worth this week.”
“Wire him.”
“That is not a policy of this department.”
“That means you are turning me down to accept them.”
“Yes. You have no authority to do what you did.”
“I am going to the state police and tell them you declined to accept felons. I have witnesses who saw they shot and wounded three of my men and killed two on my ranch land.”
“Wait. I will jail them. But you must meet with the prosecuting attorney at nine a.m. here.”
“Good. Accept no bonds. This gang has some rich supporters. Bring them in, Ira.”
“How would they know we are holding them?”
“Word travels fast. People can see them being brought in here.”
“They will still be here in jail in the morning when you come in.”
“Fine. Make me a receipt for delivering them.”
The man turned to his deputy. “Make him a receipt.”
“Ira, bring the prisoners inside.”
“Yes, sir, boss man.”
There was something wrong here, but Long couldn’t put his finger on it. Why would the man refuse a citizen’s arrest of criminals? The sheriff, his boss, told Hiram he’d back him. Why was this first man refusing them?
There were lots of unanswered questions inside this room. He and his men needed a meal and some sleep. What did the prosecutor need? He wished Harp was there. He was the talker in the family.
Outside in the hot night, Ira asked the same question. “Why wouldn’t he accept this bunch of worthless outlaws?”
“I guess if I knew that I could also tell tomorrow’s weather.”
“I would like that. Damn hot again.”
Dead Aim Page 28