“Darby?” she whispered, her bedroll beside his.
“Yeah, Sis?” he responded, turning toward her in the dim light of a crescent moon. He was unable to make out much in the darkness.
She kept her voice low so the others couldn’t overhear them. “Did you mean what you said earlier about going to Montana with me?”
Darby stayed silent.
Carrie Sue quivered in alarm and asked, “Did you hear me?”
“Yeah, I heard you. Once we get this mess cleared up about that false gang with that reporter, things should cool down for us. Me and the boys will probably head for Arizona after you leave. I hear there’s lot of gold and silver to be had out there. You have a better chance of survival and making a new life if me and the boys aren’t around to mess it up for you. If I leave them here, they’ll only get into trouble and get themselves killed. I can’t run out on them and I couldn’t take them along to Montana ‘cause we’d draw too much attention to you. I owe them, Sis; they’ve been with me from the start. They’re my friends, like family to me.”
“You don’t owe them your life, big brother.”
“Yeah, maybe I do. They’ve risked theirs lots of times for me.”
“You can’t keep on with this, Darby. One day, one of those lawmen is going to outsmart you or one of those bounty hunters is going to catch up with you. They’re going to kill you, Darby, all of you.”
“I know, but we don’t have any choice. It’s too late for us.”
“Yes, you do. You can pull out now. Let’s forget about the reporter and money. Let’s just leave from here and head north.”
“I can’t, Sis.”
“You mean, you won’t,” she corrected, anger chewing at her.
After a pause, he replied, “Yeah, I guess you’re right about that.”
With teary eyes, she urged, “Darby, please.”
Darby ignored her tone and words. “Why don’t you leave from here, Sis? You can take some supplies and all the money we have left. The boys won’t mind; we’ll get more soon.”
“No, I want to go to San Angelo with you and work with that reporter. I want the truth out before I take off.” Carrie Sue didn’t tell him she thought the reporter would trust her and believe her more than the men and she could make the newspaper man grasp the truth. She had to remove that threat to her brother before she deserted him for the last time. She owed Darby that much. Besides, she needed better supplies and more money if she was going to make it to Montana and have a real chance at a new beginning. If only she could get to Carolyn Starns’s money in the Tucson bank, but that wasn’t possible.
Carrie Sue also wanted to send T.J. a message through Hank Peterson to let her love know she was all right and was heading for safety far away. She realized there was no need to keep reasoning or arguing with her brother; she couldn’t change his mind. She hated the fact he was choosing his friends over her, but Darby thought and felt like a man. Sometimes misguided loyalty was more important to men than family bonds. His male pride and his fealty to his gang would never let him desert them. He had pulled them together, led them, made all the decisions for them, and taken care of them. He felt responsible for the gang as a good father would for his family. They were six, and she was only one, so the odds were against her.
“Good-night, Darby,” she murmured, her heart heavy with sadness.
“’Night, Sis,” he replied in a matching tone.
Carrie Sue spent a restless night with bad dreams about her brother’s capture and death. Each time she awakened, she tried to return to sleep to dream about a bright future with T.J. Rogue, but her mind refused to cooperate. Whenever she saw her lover in her dreams, he was dogging her persistently and trying to destroy Darby and his gang.
Two hours before dawn, she finally fell into a deep slumber.
Saturday morning, June tenth, the Stover Gang left the cool and secluded canyon in the Guadalupe Mountains, heading for San Angelo. It was a journey which would require five days.
To the east in Brownwood, Ranger Dave Clemmens rode into a lethal trap by the gang impersonating Darby and his men. Pinned to the lawman’s chest by his silver star was a note saying, “Stop chasing the Stover Gang or you’ll all end up like this. You’ll never catch us, so give it up and survive.” It was signed “Darby Stover.”
Tuesday night, a weary and moody T.J. Rogue arrived in San Angelo. He had tried to make town before the telegraph office closed for the day so he could pick up his messages. A storm had slowed him yesterday by forcing him to take cover for hours. He had no choice but to wait for morning to see what had taken place while he’d been out of touch. He also needed a newspaper to learn whatever he could.
He stabled Nighthawk, took his gear, and checked into a small hotel near the edge of town. Two buildings away was Miss Sally’s Parlor House, a luxurious brothel famous for its food, music, drinks, gambling, and well-trained prostitutes. Tonight, he needed nothing more than a bath, hot meal, cool drink, and comfortable bed.
No, he corrected himself, what he needed and wanted most was Carrie Sue Stover in his arms. It had been seven days since he’d made love to her, then lost her to her recklessness. If, his mind scoffed, he could call her fleeing from his threat being rash. Lordy, he wished he knew where she was and how she was. Even if her posters were down, she was with the gang again, and in great peril. For all he knew, she could be captured or killed by now.
When morning came, after a long and troublesome night, T.J. arose early, had a quick breakfast, and headed for the telegraph office. There were two messages awaiting him. He read Hank Peterson’s to discover his friend in Mesilla hadn’t heard from Carrie Sue and didn’t have any further news on the gang. Mitchell Sterling’s message said that Ranger Dave Clemmens had been killed outside Brownwood last Saturday, allegedly by “Darby Stover.”
T.J. knew from study that Carrie Sue’s brother was not known to ambush and murder any man in cold blood, and Darby certainly never incriminated himself with reckless boasting! He wondered if Dave had stumbled onto something important about Quade Harding. The skilled Ranger had been working the Harding case for some time and had made a mistake somewhere along the trail. That meant T.J. needed to investigate Dave’s death when he reached Brownwood. If Quade was in on more than a land grab and local crimes, his two cases would overlap. He hoped Harding was involved in the frame of the Stover Gang. If one existed, and he believed it did, that would give him another reason and way to entrap his foe.
Mitchell also said he had nothing new to report on the gang’s movements and deeds since T.J. left El Paso. If Darby and his men had committed those recent crimes and Carrie Sue was back with them, they were laying low again and she would be safe, hopefully.
T.J. faced another reality. When he rode into Brownwood and confronted Quade Harding again, what would happen? The man knew he was Ranger Thad Jamison, and he would know his murder attempt had failed. Harding would be forced to try again to cover his guilt. T.J. asked himself if he should skip Brownwood for now, which could lead to him exposing his identity on this case. He couldn’t arrest Quade without evidence and he couldn’t get near the man to obtain it! If he revealed himself there, his undercover days were over. And, Carrie Sue would learn the wrong way who he was. Besides, Harding was probably on alert after that curious poster business.
The best thing to do was wait to learn if Dave Clemmens had reported anything before his death. T.J. sent a coded wire to the head of the Texas Ranger unit for which he worked. He told his superior about his suspicions of a frame and Quade Harding’s possible involvement in that and Dave’s murder. He asked the officer to reconsider a pardon for Carrie Sue, if she helped with the Stover and Harding cases. He vowed to marry her and keep her out of future trouble. He said he would take full responsibility for her, that he would do anything to get her pardoned.
T.J. sent a similar coded message to President Grant and prayed his old friend wouldn’t let him down. If Grant didn’t have a chance at a third term
, then, this being an election year shouldn’t control his decision on a pardon. If fact, the man whose life he had saved and whom he had served faithfully owed him this chance at happiness.
T.J. sent answers to Mitchell and Hank, then went to the newspaper office. He met William Ferguson, owner and reporter. He asked for the last seven day’s papers to check out the news. While Ferguson gathered them, T.J. asked, “Hear much about the Stover Gang?”
“There was plenty of news for weeks, but nothing since that Wells Fargo office in Brady. Why are you so interested, son?”
T.J. used one of his genial and disarming smiles. “There’s a ten thousand dollar reward out on Darby Stover and his sister and five each on his men. That’s a lot of money. I travel around all the time, so if I run into them, I wouldn’t mind collecting it. I hear she’s a real beauty.”
“Are you a bounty hunter?” William Ferguson asked.
T.J. sent him a scowl to reveal his feelings. “Nope. I’m what you might call a drifter or gunslinger. Name’s T.J. Rogue.”
William Ferguson looked the young man over and smiled. “In this business, I’ve heard of you many times, son. I must say it’s a pleasure to meet such a famous man. I’ve printed stories about your…shall we say, colorful adventures? I also enjoy meeting the people I write about in my paper. I bet you could fill an entire edition with tall tales. You want to set the record straight? I always print the truth.”
T.J. chuckled and shook his head, the man’s words and mood telling him which approach to take to extract the most information. T.J. knew men like this had facts they often didn’t or couldn’t print. “Nope. If men learned I was tame as a kitten, they’d be stomping on my tail all the time. Sometimes a bad reputation serves you well, sir, so I’d better keep mine a while. A fierce lone wolf gets challenged less than a pussycat, and I try to do as little killing as I can. It isn’t like people think it is. It’s a bad and hard way to survive.”
Ferguson laughed heartily. He liked this direct young man and concluded he couldn’t be evil. “You staying in town long?”
“I think I’ll be leaving for Commanche in a few hours. That’s one place the gang hasn’t struck lately. Maybe I’ll get lucky. I get tired of searching for odd jobs or taking offensive ones. It’ll be nice to have enough money to maybe settle down some place peaceful. If you add up the Hardings’ rewards and the law’s, that comes to sixty-six thousand. A man can get out of the gunslinging business with that much.”
“That’s a wise and brave decision, son. I hope you succeed. But I wouldn’t count on the Stover Gang being in central Texas. If they were, they’d be after whoever’s impersonating them. I’ve studied and followed the Stover Gang for years and I can tell you, those last five crimes weren’t committed by Darby’s boys. Not his style, and a man doesn’t change a perfect one and start acting crazy and reckless.”
Tipping up the brim of his hat so the man could see his clear eyes better, T.J. chuckled and alleged, “That was my thinking too, sir. That’s why I wanted your papers; I hear you’re the best in Texas. From those I’ve been reading, something didn’t sound right to me. I wonder if the law has noticed anything strange.”
“I doubt it. They’re too busy trying to capture and hang them to realize they’re innocent of those charges. It’s a real shame to see Darby’s reputation sullied like this. He’s been mighty careful over the years to shoot only when necessary. I think that’s why people always yielded to him without a fight; they trusted him to ride off afterwards and leave them safe. These recent jobs all had vicious killings.”
T.J. realized that Carrie Sue knew her brother well and she was right about suspecting impersonation. “You think somebody could be doing this on purpose, Mr. Ferguson? Say, framing Darby?”
“What makes you think that, son?” he asked, intrigued. T.J. propped his elbows on the counter. He tucked his thumb under his chin and curled his index finger over it. “I’d say there has to be a traitor or spy somewhere, somebody who knows when his boss can play Darby. There hasn’t been a robbery by both at the same time; that’s why he looks guilty. Suppose one of his men is in cahoots with another gang and tipping them off on where and when to attack. Or,” he began and paused dramatically, “what if some enemy is framing him to get him killed? Say, that Harding fellow in Brownwood who’s so eager to get the Stovers. I hear he wants the sister alive or no payment. Isn’t that a mite strange? I wonder what he’s up to?” T.J. murmured, uncurling his fingers to stroke his jawline as if in deep study.
Ferguson was stimulated by the conversation. “I hadn’t considered that angle, son. You could have something there. I thought it was strange that the Hardings took over the Stover ranch just before Darby became an outlaw. At first, he was Darby’s only target, and the boy had done some shouting to the law about murder and theft. Could be a revenge motive in there some place. I’d give a box of gold pieces to question that boy and his sister about those early days.”
“What would you say was their last strike, Mr. Ferguson?”
“That stage holdup near Sherman the end of April.”
“That’s over six weeks past. Isn’t that a long time to lay low?”
The older man chuckled. “Not for Darby Stover. He doesn’t need much money. Where can he go to spend it? He’s wanted everywhere. He doesn’t care about making a reputation for himself. I think he’s stayed an outlaw because he had no choice in the matter. I think that boy would have gone straight long ago if the law had punished the Hardings. A real shame, but I believe he got himself into a trap trying to destroy the men who killed his parents and took his ranch.”
“That’s some theory, Mr. Ferguson. How could you prove it?”
“I can’t, neither can he; that’s why he’s still on the run. I’ve worked on this story for years, son. It fascinates me how and why good men go bad. I’ve talked to folks who won’t even talk to the law, scared to talk to them. I know things I can’t even print because I can’t back them up with proof or witnesses. Those Hardings have power and wealth, and they’re real mean. It wouldn’t surprise me any if there is a frame and they’re behind it. I really hate seeing that boy and his sister get maligned and killed. You know something strange?” he said, then looked behind him to make certain no one was around.
“They put out a wanted poster on Carrie Sue Stover, then withdrew it, said it was a mistake, the wrong woman. Harding claims Carrie Sue Stover isn’t the Texas Flame. He says he was with her when the Flame was seen with the Stover Gang. I can tell you, son, it wasn’t the wrong woman. I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m trying to find out. The law isn’t talking.”
“How do you know it was her? And why would the law call it back?”
The older man moved closer and talked in a lowered tone. “I paid one of Quade Harding’s ex-detectives for some information. He was fired from the agency for drinking too much, and he must have realized Quade wouldn’t give him the chance to loosen his tongue while drunk. He identified the poster I showed him as Carrie Sue Stover. He swore she’s the Flame, and he vowed that Quade Harding knows the truth. While he was considering my lucrative offer about coming forward with evidence, he was killed by a gambler for cheating. Blasted bad luck!” He glanced around again, then said, “Harding’s son wants her badly, and it isn’t for revenge. What I can’t figure is why the law called in her posters and how they persuaded Harding to cooperate. They must have threatened him with legal action for withholding evidence all those years. I think the Rangers did it because they have one of their men with her and he’s trying to get her to lead him to the gang. Sometimes she vanishes for months. It could be she’s linked up with an undercover lawman and doesn’t know it. They could be doing this to protect him and to give her time to lead him to her brother’s gang.”
“That means I don’t stand a chance of locating them and bringing them in alive. I surely do hate to see bounty hunters get them.”
“So do I, young man, so do I,” the older man murmured sadly.
>
T.J. studied the gray-haired man for a time and made a quick decision. “Mr. Ferguson, I think you can be a big help to the law and possibly save their lives. What I’m about to tell you is in strictest confidence, but I need your help. You have a lot of knowledge we’ll need if we’re going to stop the Stover Gang and arrest the Hardings. I’m Thad Jamison, Texas Ranger, U.S. Marshal, and Special Agent to President Grant; I have official papers and badges to prove my claims if you need to see them. I’ve been on this case for weeks. Our man in Brownwood, Dave Clemmens, was killed recently, and I don’t believe it was Darby’s doing like that note on his chest claimed. Obviously he uncovered something about Quade Harding or this false gang and had to be silenced. I always work in secret, so I’ll have to trust you not to tell anyone who or what I am.” He divulged, “I was the one traveling with Carrie Sue Stover, but she gave me the slip in El Paso. From the message she left me, she was afraid she’d get T.J. Rogue into trouble for helping her. She said her brother was being framed, but how do we prove it? If we can, this will be the biggest story of your life.” T.J. related most of the facts to the astonished man and entreated his help with this vital case.
After some thought, William Ferguson said, “If she’s back with her brother by now, he knows about this frame job. If I know Darby Stover, he’ll find a clever way to let people know the truth. Believe me, he’ll make a strike this week and leave positive proof it was him.”
“If Darby doesn’t know her poster’s down and he lets Carrie Sue ride with him again, our ruse won’t be worth a damn, and there’s no way I can save her. Lordy, I can’t even help her if she doesn’t!” he stated angrily. “If she had only stuck with me a while longer.”
Kiss Of The Night Wind Page 39