“The boys are real close, Bill. Any of them would die for the other.”
“I’m sure of that, Carrie Sue. What else do you want me to print?”
The gang returned and halted their conversation. She was distressed to learn Cliff Thomas had been left behind. “Are you sure he was dead?”
“Yep, Walt checked him. Took a bullet in the heart. We left that lock of hair like you suggested, Sis.-Make sure you put that in the story, Mr. Ferguson. That’ll stop whoever’s framing us.”
“That was a clever idea, Carrie Sue, but a dangerous one. Those curls will tie you to the gang more tightly,” Ferguson warned.
“It couldn’t be helped. It was the only way to prove which gang was attacking where. I’ll be gone soon and out of danger.”
The men eagerly devoured the beef stew and biscuits. Afterwards, they planned their departure in the morning for Big Spring…
Darby asked Walt Vinson to show him his badge collection so he could find one or more to use during their next job, as Darby didn’t want any trouble getting into the building where the gold was being held in secrecy. The men went to where Walt’s possessions were outside near his bedroll, leaving Carrie Sue and William Ferguson in the shack.
When Darby saw the Texas Ranger badge with “Thad Jamison” on the back, he asked, “Where did you get this one, Walt?”
Walt looked at it and replied, “From that stage near Sherman. I took it offin that dead Ranger.”
“What it is?” Kale questioned his friend’s reaction.
“Read it, Kale. It says Thad Jamison. If we killed him, those Rangers will hunt us down forever. He’s a legend.”
“Legend,” Dillon scoffed, “More like a mystery. You think he’s for real?”
Kale Rushton responded, “He’s for real, all right. He moves like a morning mist; you never see him, but you see where he’s been. He hits an area, does his job secretly, then vanishes. Few people know him in person. You don’t want to tangle with him; he’s deadly, an expert in every area: guns, knives, bows, bare hands.
“We didn’t kill Jamison, I met him at an Apache camp years ago. You remember that time I left you boys in camp and went to visit my mother’s tribe. He was there, trying to work out some trouble between the whites and Indians. It wasn’t him on the stage. Maybe that Ranger was carrying him a new badge.”
Darby licked his lips nervously, then dropped the matter from mind. “We have one U.S. Marshal badge and three deputy badges. I’ll take this one. Kadry, Dillon, and Tyler will take the other three. With them, we’ll get those guards to open the doors to that hotel room. After we get the drop on them, we’ll let the rest of you inside. With these new beards and mustaches on me, Kadry, and Dillon, and with Tyler clean shaven, they won’t recognize us ’til it’s too late. I don’t want any shooting, boys. We’re trying to wash up our dirty reputations, not splatter ‘em with fresh blood. If we make our next few hits without shedding blood, it’ll go in our favor with that story.”
At dawn on Friday, Darby Stover and his men rode off again, to return Monday night, leaving Carrie Sue to guard Ferguson once more.
Over coffee, she told him, “I’m sorry, Bill, but we can’t release you until they return from Big Spring. I promise you will leave safely.”
“Don’t worry, Carrie Sue. We can talk easily for four more days. What was that talk about using badges last night?” he asked.
Carrie Sue explained how Darby intended to use badges which Walt Vinson collected to prevent any unnecessary killing during their holdup. “As I told you, my brother doesn’t shoot unless his life’s threatened, and he doesn’t allow his men to do so either. Nearly every killing against us was committed by a man who was a temporary gangmember. Darby’s always careful about who he lets join, but sometimes a bad seed gets past him. He gets rid of them the moment they disobey.”
In San Angelo, the sheriff was questioning Cliff Thomas who had just aroused from his bullet wound. “You’re damn lucky that slug was so small, Thomas. You can live through this and get pardoned if you help us catch the Stover Gang. They can’t have gotten too far. Which way were they heading? Speak up, man, or you’ll hang tomorrow.”
Cliff was in pain and was scared. “They didn’t go nowhere, Sheriff. You put that promise in writing and I’ll draw you a map to their camp.”
The sheriff complied, but he knew he wouldn’t keep his promise to this outlaw or to any criminal whom he tricked into capture. Cliff Thomas was propped up to draw a map to Darby’s hideout on the Middle Concho River, west of town. “That ain’t all, Sheriff,” he hinted, but began to cough strenuously. He grabbed his chest as the bullet shifted in his heart and blocked a main artery, killing him before he could expose the Big Spring threat.
The doctor checked the outlaw and said, “Gone for sure this time.”
“Don’t matter; he would have hanged when he got well.” He ordered his deputy to gather a posse, “a large one with plenty of guns.”
Carrie Sue was glancing out the paneless window when she spotted movement around the trees and bushes. She hurried from side to side where wooden flaps were lifted for air flow and assessed the situation.
“What’s wrong, Carrie Sue?” the gray-haired man asked.
“We’ve got a posse closing in on the shack. We’re surrounded.”
“Why don’t you use me as a shield and hostage to bluff your way out?” he suggested, not wanting her captured.
“It’s too dangerous, Bill. You could get shot by accident; posses are nervous men. I have to surrender peaceably to protect you.” She went to William Ferguson and cut him free. Yanking off her bandanna, she ordered, “Tie my hands, Bill, quickly. Take my pistol and pretend you’ve overpowered me and captured me. There’s no chance of escape for me, so it’s rash to challenge them. I want you to get my reward, if there’s one left. Just think what a wonderful story this will make: Newspaperman Captures Texas Flame!”
“Oh, my heavens,” he murmured worriedly. He tied her wrists together, collected his valuable notes, and stuffed them inside his shirt. He led her outside at gunpoint with her bound hands lifted skyward. “Don’t shoot!” he yelled when men showed their faces from behind trees. “It’s me, William Ferguson, from the newspaper.”
“Where are the others, Bill?” the sheriff shouted from cover.
“Gone. They left early this morning. I was kidnapped, but I got free and captured Darby’s sister. She’s harmless.”
The sheriff and his posse came forward, eyeing the beautiful fugitive with great interest. “What in blazes are you doing here, Bill?”
The crafty newspaperman explained, “The Stovers say they’re being framed. They vow they didn’t commit any of those recent crimes. They abducted me to tell me their story so I could print it and inform the authorities. They claim Quade Harding, that fellow in Brownwood who offered those big rewards, is responsible. The gang’s gone there to face him down and pull a job. She was guarding me, but I got the drop on her.” He glanced at the silent beauty. “She’s too nice and trusting,” he added. “I believe their story.”
The San Angelo sheriff studied Carrie Sue for a time. “It don’t matter none. They’re still outlaws. We’ll catch ‘em and they’ll all hang.”
No murmurs of approval were heard as the local men continued to stare at the ravishing creature beside William Ferguson, a woman whose expression was one of vulnerable innocence. They were awed by those large periwinkle eyes, her flowing tawny red mane, her soft rosy gold skin, and her gentle and delicate air.
“You say they left for Brownwood early this morning?” After Ferguson nodded, the sheriff said, “That should take them about three or four days round-trip. We’ll have a posse waiting for them when they return. By Monday, we’ll have them all in jail.”
Carrie Sue recalled telling. Ferguson that her brother always set out markers in all directions when leaving camp; that way Darby knew if it was safe to return there following a job. The gray-haired man also knew that the Stover
Gang was heading northwest to Big Spring, not easterly. What she couldn’t figure out was why this newspaper man lied to protect all of them because he knew Darby and his men, no matter which direction they had taken, would not ride back into a trap.
The offensive sheriff appeared to gloat when he said, “The Rangers called in your posters, but I guess this proves they were mistaken for a change. I’m sure the Flame’s hair matches yours perfectly. Ill wire them we caught you dead-to-rights. You got anything to say, Miss Stover?” he asked tersely. “Where’s the bank money?”
The redhead gazed at the belligerent lawman and, despite knowing it was a waste of breath, said, “I don’t know. We’re being framed, and the truth will come ot soon. That’s all.”
“I suppose you’ve been framed all these years?” he scoffed.
Carrie Sue glared at him. “Of course not, but I’ve nothing more to say. Mr. Peterson has all the facts. He’ll print the truth.”
“If the law lets him print such crap.”
“Freedom of the press, Sheriff. I can print what they told me.”
“Why would you want to do such a stupid thing, Bill?”
Calmly the man replied, “Two reasons, Sheriff. First, it’s big news. No other paper has ever gotten an interview with the Stover Gang or any other gang. Second, I believe their account. I’ve studied this gang for years, and those recent crimes don’t match their set style.”
“Gangs don’t have a style, Bill; they just rob and murder.”
Ferguson smiled and shook his head. “I think the Rangers will disagree with you there. I’m ready to get back to town and get moving on this news. For my story, how did you find this place?”
“That bastard they left behind recovered long enough to spill his guts about this place. Then, he keeled over before he could tell me about Brownwood. He’s dead, not that it matters any.”
Ferguson asked, “Can I come to the jail later and talk to her again?”
“Sure, but she’ll be guarded heavily. I don’t want that brother of hers busting her out. ‘Course, he won’t be back for a few days, and me and my men will be waiting right here to welcome him.”
Ferguson didn’t protest the grounds for her arrest. He figured jail was the safest place for her until he could reach Thad Jamison.
Carrie Sue’s things were gathered and her horse was saddled. She was taken into town at the front of the posse and locked in the jail.
Time passed as the daring desperado contemplated her perilous predicament. She didn’t think she needed to worry about her brother because he shouldn’t fall for atrap. Yet, he might figure out what had happened to her and try to get her out of jail. Carrie Sue couldn’t send word to Sally to warn him because that would expose the woman who loved and aided her brother. She couldn’t get William Ferguson more involved than he already was. She dared not wire Hank Ferguson or Mitchell Sterling and call attention to them. If only T.J. were here, but she didn’t know how or where to locate him. She was trapped, and all she could do was wait for the firm hand of justice to punish her.
William Ferguson sent a wire to Commanche, but T.J. Rogue didn’t respond to it. He visited Carrie Sue briefly in her cell and was tempted to reveal news about Thad Jamison’s help, but decided against exposing the lawman who had trusted him. He went back to his office and continued to work on the legendary story. He wished Jamison would answer his telegram and wondered why the man hadn’t done so.
An hour later, the San Angelo Tribune owner and writer received news of a Stover Gang robbery in Stephenville which had occurred almost simultaneously with Darby’s hit in San Angelo. A reporter there telegraphed that a wounded outlaw had been captured and jailed, and asked Ferguson to come interview the man and split the story. Ferguson chuckled—the Stephenville reporter said that Bill could get information out of a silence-vowed monk.
Ferguson went to see Carrie Sue again and told her about the other crime and his trip to Stephenville tomorrow. “I need to get there before he dies or decides not to talk, or gives somebody else his story. If he incriminates Quade Harding, this could be the break you need, Carrie Sue. But whatever happens with him, the law will realize Darby Stover couldn’t be in two towns on the same day. They’ll have to begin an investigation. I’m glad your brother hit the bank here yesterday to back up my story and your claims, but I surely did hate to lose my money in that holdup.” He chuckled.
She promised in a serious tone, “Darby hid it, but I’ll make certain he gets it back to you. And don’t forget about collecting the reward for my capture. Good luck, Bill, and thanks…for everything.”
Ferguson grasped the meaning of her last two words. He smiled and nodded. “I’ll get you the best lawyer in the state, and I’ll keep after the authorities until they listen to our side.”
The sheriff unlocked the cell and ordered Bill to end his task.
Before leaving, Ferguson said, “I’m going to Stephenville for a story tomorrow. You take good care of Miss Stover. Make sure she isn’t harmed or harassed, or you’ll see yourself in bad print.”
“Come on, Bill, don’t threaten me,” he said with a vexed laugh.
“No threat, Sheriff, a promise.”
T.J. showed up at William Ferguson’s home at nine o’clock. The newspaper owner was delighted and surprised to see the lawman. He told T.J. what had happened and of his impending plans.
The stunned T.J. said, “I heard about both robberies Thursday when I was in the telegraph office in Commanche, so I hightailed it back here when this one mentioned a fiery lock of hair as proof it was the Stover Gang’s. Leaving such evidence against her was a stupid thing for her brother to do!” he stated with rising fury. He ordered himself to calm down and handle this matter with clear wits. “I didn’t get your wire about her capture, but I wanted to see you before I met with three Rangers at the hotel. I wired them to meet me here tonight so we can make a plan to end this matter before she gets hurt. You head on to Stephenville and get that man to talk. Offer him anything, just open his mouth. I’ll arrange a jailbreak for Carrie Sue tonight and get her to lead us to her brother’s gang. I have to end this quickly.”
Ferguson brushed over the highlights of his visit and interview with the gang. He cautioned, “Don’t trust the sheriff here, Thad; he’s set on taking them any way necessary. I said they were heading for Brownwood, but it’s Big Spring like I told you. I knew it was better to give you that information rather than to tell him. You and those Rangers should head that way or they’ll be gunned down if they return to his camp on the Concho River. You going to warn Big Spring?”
T.J. pondered his movements carefully. “Nope. If they plan an ambush for Darby and his boys on Sunday, it’ll be a slaughter. Let them carry out the robbery and we’ll capture them on their way back. With Rangers heading up the posse, everything should go smoothly.”
“What will Carrie Sue say when she discovers the truth?”
“You didn’t tell her anything about me, did you?”
“Certainly not, my friend, but I was sorely tempted.”
“I’ll have a talk with her before we reach her brother. I’ll make her understand this is the only way to save his life. You get that evidence against Quade Harding because we’ll need it at Darby’s trial. I have another plan I’ll need help with, Bill, so hurry back to town.”
“What is it?” the newspaper owner inquired, intrigued.
When Lawman Thaddeus Jerome Jamison explained, William Ferguson’s eyes widened in disbelief. Then, he smiled and nodded…
T.J. met with the three Texas Rangers who agreed with his bold plan to capture the Stover Gang in a location which wouldn’t endanger town citizens. The San Angelo sheriff was summoned and persuaded to go along with her jailbreak. After the sheriff left to dismiss his deputies, T.J. told the Rangers how he would mark the trail for them to follow.
“Hang back at night, ‘cause she’s alert and wary. I’ll need time to convince her I’m on her side. Monday morning, move in closer. That’s
when we should meet up with her brother on the trail back to San Angelo. We’ll need a posse to prevent any gaps they can slip through. I want this case over with as quickly and cleanly as possible. Warn the men, no shooting unless fired upon and you give the signal. I want this gang taken alive. Understand?”
In Brownwood, Quade Harding left his ranch with his gang. The San Angelo sheriff had telegraphed him, in case the man was still interested in Carrie Sue Stover and her reward was still available. But Quade hadn’t heard about the curious happening in Stephenville…
Carrie Sue realized she could not wait for Darby or T.J. to hear about her capture and risk freeing her. She had to escape, tonight! The sheriff seemed to cooperate unknowingly when he returned to the jail and dismissed his two deputies, telling them he was going to sleep there and to replace him at seven in the morning.
When the jail was quiet, she walked to the bars and called out, “Sheriff, can I see you a minute? I have something to say.” As he got off the bunk, she pretended to trip and fall. She slammed her hand against the bars so it sounded as if her head had struck them. She groaned and lay still.
“Damn!” the man swore, worried about her being injured while in his care. How would he explain this to those Rangers? He hurriedly fetched the key and unlocked the door.
As he knelt beside the redhead and tried to help the dazed woman to her feet, Carrie Sue yanked the pistol from his holster. “Don’t move or shout, Sheriff, or you’re dead before help arrives. Just back away, real slow and careful.”
While keeping her eyes on him, she left the cell and got his handcuffs. She returned to fasten them on his wrists. Afterwards, she gagged him, then secured him to the bars using his belt. The redhead locked the cell door and tossed the keys on the man’s desk.
Kiss Of The Night Wind Page 41