Bannerman the Enforcer 5

by Kirk Hamilton

  “Time’s runnin’ out, Bannerman,” Blayne said. “You with us or against us?”

  Yancey sighed. “Well, hell, you don’t give a man much choice, Blayne. I’ve no hankering to die, especially when I got into this mess on account of him.” He gestured at Cato. “I’ll ride along, wherever you’re going.”

  Cato snorted. “Hell! Listen to him! Where’s your principles and high morals now, Yance? Eh? What happened to ’em? What happened to your oath of loyalty to Dukes and the sovereign state of Texas?”

  Yancey looked at him coldly. “What happened to yours?” he countered.

  Cato flushed and his hand dropped towards his gun butt. He shifted his gaze to Blayne. “You’re loco if you sign him on, Blayne. He won’t forget he’s a lawman just like that. He’ll make all kinds of trouble for all of us.”

  Wyatt and the others agreed and Blayne patiently waited for them to get it out of their systems. Then he held up a hand and looked slowly around the circle. “Bannerman won’t make any trouble for us. You know why? Because we’ll all be watching him. Every last one of us. At the first sign of any smart moves or doing anything that could make trouble for us, he’s dead. Oh, yeah, he’ll get his gun back when we cross the Rio, but he won’t be able to watch eight different directions at once. And even he can’t dodge the bullet he don’t see coming.” Blayne turned back to look coldly down at Yancey. “You savvy how it’s gonna be, Bannerman?”

  “You paint a mighty clear picture, Blayne,” Yancey told him wryly. “But what the hell is the job? Hold up a bank, or something?”

  Blayne smiled faintly. “Nothin’ like that. I guess now that we’re at the Rio, it’s as good a time as any to tell you all what I got in mind and why I went to so much trouble to get you workin’ for me. I promised you all big money and I meant it. You’ll each walk out of this with between three and five grand apiece, depending on how many of us come back across the Rio.” He let that sink in and then continued, “For that kind of money you got to expect to take a risk or two, right? Well, you’ll be riskin’ your necks, all right, but the odds ain’t too bad.”

  “Spell it out!” someone growled from the shadows.

  “Sure. It’s simple. There’s a rancher down here on the border, name of Cash Collins. Got himself a big spread for cattle and he also runs a bunch of homesteads and sodbusters on his river-bottoms. Fertile land. And he seen how they were growin’ good market crops and so he figured to cash in on it. Which is how he got his name, cashin’ in on other folks’ money-makin’ schemes. He’s doin’ okay, but he wants to widen his profit margin. With wetbacks to labor in his fields.”

  He paused and looked around at the surprised men, smiling faintly. “Not just his fields, I might add,” he went on. “He aims to supply cheap labor for all the farms along this stretch of the Rio.”

  “Slave-labor!” Yancey put in flatly.

  “Sure,” Blayne agreed, cold-eyed and tight-lipped. “Slave-labor. And if there are a few young greaser virgins amongst the lot we pick up, so much the better; we all earn ourselves a bonus.”

  “Those who come back alive,” Yancey said.

  “Sure. Those who come back. Like I said, that kind of money’s worth some risks.”

  “What kind of risks?” asked Cato.

  “We ride down into Mexico with Collins and maybe a few men he’s picked up. There’s a village there where there are plenty of young men and women. We hit it, and we hit it hard! We come out with as many men between sixteen and thirty as we can. We don’t bring anyone over forty.” He looked around slowly at each man, before looking directly at Yancey as he added, “And we don’t leave any witnesses. Clear?”

  There was a short silence and then one by one the men nodded agreement. They understood the deal. Cato shrugged when Blayne looked at him and indicated that it was all right with him, adding, “If someone’s shootin’ at me or tryin’ to cut me up with a machete or reapin’ hook, I don’t much care about age or sex or anythin’ else, I aim to stop him.”

  Blayne nodded. “That’s it: they’ll fight, but they ain’t got much to fight with, and we’ll come out with a good group, I reckon. Thing is, we can time our ride down to miss the Federale patrol, but comin’ back we just might run into it. That’s when the real fireworks’ll start. Then we could run into a Ranger patrol at the border, though I reckon Collins has got that part fixed. But there’s big dinero in this deal, and those of you who want to try again can stick around and I’ll set it up. Greasers ain’t worth a damn in their own neck of the woods but if we can turn ’em into cold hard cash, I reckon a man’d be loco not to try it. Now you know what we’re in for.”

  “Except we don’t know where,” Cato said.

  Blayne looked at him carefully. “You’ll find that out after we cross the Rio and rendezvous with Collins. How do you feel about it, Bannerman? Guess it’s the kind of job Dukes’ would send you on to bust up, huh?”

  “Wouldn’t be the first time we’ve come up against slavers,” Yancey said, speaking to Blayne but looking at Cato. “You never professed to like ’em much before, Cato.”

  Cato shrugged. “Never said I didn’t, either. Mexes are okay, but then so are most white men. I’ll fight either of ’em or redskins or negroes or Chinese, if I’m paid enough. Dukes was payin’ before, but nothin’ like what Blayne’s offerin’.” He turned to Blayne and indicated Yancey. “You’ll need to keep a close eye on him.”

  “We will. If he doesn’t go in with gun blazin’, he’ll be shot down,” Blayne said easily. “You’ll see how he’ll change his ideas about ‘slaves’ when his life’s on the line.” He gestured to Wyatt. “Tie up Bannerman for the night.”

  Wyatt smiled crookedly as he moved forward, taking out his six-gun and covering Yancey with it. Tying the Enforcer up was going to be a pleasure as far as Waco Wyatt was concerned.

  ~*~

  After supper, Governor Dukes was relaxing in his private quarters at the mansion on Capitol Hill. He was feeling better than he had for some days now; Dr. Boles had, insisted that he rest, and Kate, too, had laid down the law until he had finally agreed to take things easy and to let her and the other mansion staff handle most of the routine work.

  It had been a shrewd move on Kate’s part for she had been able to prevail upon Marnie Hendry to stay on and help nurse the governor for awhile. Marnie had done so reluctantly but had been pleased, just the same, at the opportunity to repay Dukes and Kate at least in part for their past kindnesses.

  There was a knock on his door and Dukes looked up from the book he was reading and called, “Come in.” He swung his legs down from the sofa when the door opened and admitted both Kate and Marnie. He smiled. “Well, good evening, ladies. I’d stand and greet you except I’m afraid I’d get a cussin’-out from my nurse and she’d make me sit again, pronto.”

  “Quite right, too,” Kate said and Marnie smiled faintly.

  She was pale and there was a puffiness under her eyes that told the world she had not been sleeping any too well. The women came across and sat down opposite the governor.

  “Well, ladies,” Dukes said, “this is an honor. What can I do for you?”

  Marnie and Kate exchanged glances and then Kate looked levelly at her father. “Well, Dad, as you know, Marnie’s most upset by what’s happened to Johnny, the way he’s let her down and so on. She’s finding it hard to adjust here, where she spent so much time with him, making wedding plans and so on.”

  Dukes frowned and looked uneasy, flicking his gaze to Marnie. “I’m—I’m aware of this, Marnie, and I’m right sorry about it. I wish there was something I could do.”

  “Perhaps there is, Governor,” Marnie said quietly. She paused for a moment and then looked Dukes directly in the eye as she said, “I’ve—I’ve been hearing from Kate and Yancey Bannerman and Dr. Boles and many other people in your employ that the way Johnny has acted has been right out of character for him. I’m willing to concede that a man with such a reputation as he has for being a ladies�
� man might have got cold feet at the thought of marriage, but I think it would have been only temporary. But what I just can’t believe is that Johnny would suddenly start drinking heavily and gambling to the extent that he got himself so deeply in debt that you felt your security was at risk and you had to fire him.”

  “Marnie, my dear,” Dukes said kindly, “I’m afraid you flatter yourself somewhat. John had started drinking heavily and gambling, even writing I.O.U.s before he met you. It’s not a sudden thing; it’s been gradually building up over a period of months. Most people hadn’t even noticed it but I have to notice these things in my employees. In any case, he has a past history of being an inveterate gambler and heavy drinker and, I’m afraid, a womanizer.”

  Kate looked sharply at her father. “Dad, I’ve been back over Johnny’s files. I’ve had access to them since I’ve been doing some of your duties. Nowhere could I find, on the original, anything at all about a past history of inveterate gambling as you call it, or heavy drinking. Certainly there is reference to him throwing wild and woolly wing-dings, but really no more wild or woolly than Yancey has thrown, though maybe in a different way. And there is nothing at all about Johnny Cato ever signing I.O.U.s either here or at Laramie or anywhere else. And yet I know the file you showed Yancey had all the information that helped convince him Johnny had kicked over the traces. Though personally, I don’t think he was fully convinced. What I’m saying, Dad, is that I think Johnny Cato has been set up for some reason, on an undercover job so secret that you didn’t even let Yancey in on it. Now, if this is so, I think you owe Marnie the truth.”

  Dukes looked at a point about midway between the two women and he slowly closed his book and started to reach for his jacket pocket but stopped his hand halfway and let it drop back to his lap. He smiled faintly. “I forgot. Cigar smoking is banned in my delicate condition. But I could sure use one right now, ladies, I surely could.”

  “No cigar, Dad. Dr. Boles’ orders. Please don’t stall any longer. You must see the agony that Marnie is going through.”

  Dukes looked at the girl and he nodded soberly. “Of course I can,” he said quietly. “And I’m very sorry for all the emotional upsets you’ve suffered, Marnie. Believe me, if there had been any other way—”

  “Another way, Governor?” Marnie asked tightly. “You mean that John was acting all along? That he—he let me go through all this—for the sake of a—a job?”

  She was trembling, emotion edging her voice, her back stiff, eyes moist. Kate put a hand on her arm but she was looking steadily at Dukes.

  The governor sighed heavily and nodded very slightly. “I’m very sorry, Marnie, but it was necessary. We had to make sure that Steve Blayne absolutely believed that Cato was going downhill and therefore was vulnerable to blackmail and so able to be coerced into joining his group. You see, we knew he was gathering a bunch of gunfighters around him, but we didn’t know why and we thought the best thing to do was to put a man in there with them. Cato was the logical choice, because of his reputation for carousing.”

  “Yes,” Marnie broke in, her mouth and tone bitter. “The logical choice! And it didn’t matter who else got hurt, did it? Just as long as his reputation was soiled and he was able to join these—these vermin!”

  Dukes moved uneasily and looked at Kate appealingly. He was surprised to see that there was no sympathy for him there; she stared back at him with cold, accusing eyes.

  Chapter Nine – Breakaway

  Yancey awoke to a boot in the side and jarred out of the shallow sleep to find the camp full of activity in the gray light of dawn. He looked up at the towering figure of Waco Wyatt, The man held a hunting knife in one hand and his six-gun in the other.

  “Steve says to cut you loose, Bannerman. Try anything and you’re dead.”

  “I kind of got that impression last night,” Yancey said wryly and twisted onto his side so the gunman could slash the ropes that bound his wrists. He sat there, rubbing circulation back into his hands, looking around, searching for Cato. He found him after a few minutes. The small man was saddling the horses and chatting with a couple of the other gunfighters.

  Yancey compressed his lips. He was damned if he could credit the way that Cato was so much a part of this bunch.

  They gave him an indifferent breakfast and then he had the chore of cleaning up the camp. Blayne walked across leading his mount. Yancey’s gun-rig hung from the man’s saddle horn.

  “This is the test, Bannerman. I’m giving you your gun-rig back and you ride along with us like one of the boys. Just remember what I said. We’ll have our eyes—and our guns—on you. You’d be loco to try anything.”

  “I’m not that big a fool,” Yancey said, accepting his gun-rig and buckling it about his waist. He started to automatically lift the Peacemaker out of leather to check the loads but froze at the sound of gun hammers clicking to full cock. He glanced around and found four men, including Cato, had him covered.

  Yancey shrugged and took his gun out anyway and checked the chambers. They were loaded with .45 cartridges. Satisfied, he dropped the gun back into the holster and nodded sardonically at the others, his cold gaze lingering for a moment on Cato. Then he swung aboard his horse and waited, Wyatt ordering him to ride in the center of the bunch. At a word from Blayne they put their mounts out into the shallow Rio and splashed across into Mexico.

  They only rode for two hours, then they sighted the small group of men waiting with guns drawn, by an outcrop of sun-blasted rock with dry, stunted brush growing around the base.

  It was Cash Collins and four flint-eyed gunfighters, impatient for Blayne’s bunch to join them and to push on into Mexico. Yancey had heard of Collins; he was a rancher in the same mould as the infamous King Fisher. Like Fisher, they said of Collins, you didn’t count the miles to Collins’ spread, you counted the graves.

  He was a hard man, one who had fought Indians, Mexican bandidos, white renegades and even the Texas government, to carve himself a tight cattle empire out of the southwest. He was law in this neck of the woods and nothing the Rangers or U.S. Marshals or anyone else could do could change that. It had been tried many times but Collins was still riding free, making his own brand of law, going his own way.

  He had plenty of political pull and was a man who didn’t hesitate to spread his money where it would do him most good. He had a lot of foresight; a thousand spent today might seem excessive, but in five years’ time, he might have a use for the man he had given that thousand to and it might save him ten times that amount or keep him out of jail. But you could be sure that whatever Collins did, he expected to be repaid—with interest.

  He always had a few fast guns around to back him up and to enforce his will.

  There were no greetings when the two groups met. Collins merely set his mount at the head of the bunch, in the natural position of leadership and slipped his rifle away into its saddle scabbard. His men fell in with the others and they all rode on into the harsh land. Blayne set his mount up alongside Collins, a lean, leathery man wearing patched clothing and with stubble fringing his iron jaw, and spoke to him at length. They both glanced in Yancey’s direction a few times and the Enforcer knew he was the topic of the conversation. Collins hipped half around in the saddle once and stared at Yancey for a long minute before turning back to the front. He said nothing.

  Cato was alongside Yancey at one stage during the ride, and the smaller man didn’t even glance towards him. But he spoke to Yancey briefly.

  “You’re a damn fool ridin’ in here, Yancey,” he said quietly and Yancey had the idea Cato didn’t want the other riders to hear. “They’ll kill you.”

  “Shouldn’t worry you.”

  Cato shrugged and put his mount forward. Yancey stared after him, mouth tight, eyes narrowed.

  They headed directly into the badlands and by noon were dismounted and leading their horses around the crumbling edge of a saltpan. One or two of the animals broke through the brittle crust and plunged wildly as they sank a
lmost to their bellies. Some ropes on them from the others had them out after a half-hour’s sweating toil and the whole bunch moved back away from the saltpan.

  The glare was killing and blinding. At noon, when they stopped for a meal, Yancey rubbed charcoal around his eyes, smearing it out with bacon grease. The patches of black saved some of the reflection, though it earned him plenty of jibes and remarks. But he figured he could see better than the others who laughed at him. He was surprised that Cato hadn’t done the same, for they had used the trick on desert assignments in the past. But his ex-pard threw a couple of jibes at him about looking like a clown or someone on the losing end of a fight and raised a few laughs with the others.

  They mounted up again when they reached firmer ground and turned away from the saltpan, gradually putting it behind them so that Yancey’s glare precautions were no longer necessary. But he had noted landmarks that he figured the others likely hadn’t been able to see because of the glare and he knew he would be able to find his way back if he had to.

  They camped that night in canyon country by a rock pool that had thousands of dead insects floating on top of the water, and these had to be pushed apart before the coffee pots could be filled and set on the campfire.

  “Soon as supper’s cooked put out that fire,” Collins said in his grating voice. “This is bandido country.”

  As soon as the meal was completed, one of Collins’ gunnies poured a coffee pot of water over the flames and then Blayne picked men for night guard duty. Yancey was tied up again to be on the safe side, and he settled down by a deadfall, his back against the log, feeling along the splintered branch stubs for one that was sharp enough and firm enough to rub the ropes against, hoping to snap some of the fibers. But there was nothing, so he closed his eyes and tried to get some sleep. The others were settling down and he heard the first two night guards grumbling as they walked to their positions. One of them was Cato and he stepped over Yancey’s prostrate form without even glancing at him.