Brand 12

by Neil Hunter

  ‘You broke into my office? At least it tells me I was right in firing you.’

  ‘Not as smart as you figure you are. You’d be surprised at what I found. But the discovery of that letter was the best thing I found.’

  ‘It isn’t going to make things easier for you. There’s no way I’m telling you where those diamonds are.’

  ‘Oh dear, Mr. McCord,’ Arling said, ‘let’s not make matters worse for yourself. This could be over with quite easily if you cooperate.’

  ‘No more wastin’ time,’ Ty Hawkins said. ‘He isn’t about to tell us if we keep asking nicely.’ He walked across the room and stood in front of McCord. ‘Hold his arms.’

  McCord’s arms were gripped from behind by Teece. Hawkins flexed his fists, a faint smile on his lips.

  ‘Don’t make it so he can’t speak,’ Arling said. ‘We need him alive…for now at least.’

  ‘He ain’t going to be dead,’ Hawkins said. ‘He’ll just wish he was.’

  He launched a powerful blow over McCord’s ribs. Followed with a few more. If it hadn’t been for Treece holding him upright McCord would have dropped to his knees. When his head sagged forward Hawkins took a handful of hair and raised it, then launched a hard right fist that caught McCord across the cheek. Flesh tore and blood streaked his face. Hawkins struck again, each blow landing hard until McCord’s face was a bloody, swollen mask. Hawkins pounded his ribs again, making McCord gasp. He became limp in Treece’s grasp.

  ‘Your memory improving?’ Hawkins said. ‘Think about it, McCord. All this suffering for a bag of diamonds that ain’t even yours. Give it up, man, it’s not worth the pain.’

  McCord managed to lift his head, staring at his former employee and a curled his torn, bleeding mouth up at the corners.

  ‘The hell with you, Hawkins. You’re not worth the dirt on my boots.’

  ‘Sonofabitch,’ Hawkins said.

  He hit McCord again. A pair of sledging blows to his face, slamming McCord’s head left and right. For a few moments Hawkins lost control as he slammed in blow after blow to McCord’s face and head. Blood sprayed from his loose mouth and McCord became a dead weight in Treece’s hands.

  ‘Enough,’ Arling said. ‘You’re going to far too fast. Damnit, you’ll kill him.’

  ‘Yeah? He’ll think about what’s just happened,’ Hawkins said. ‘Let him suffer for a while.’

  ‘Mr. Hawkins, this isn’t working,’ Arling said. ‘Treece, put him in a chair and make sure he’s secured. Give him time to consider what he’s going through. McCord’s a smart man. Is he going to give up his life for a bagful of stones? Yet I imagine he’s a man of principal. Maybe strong enough to hold back because of that.’

  ‘Hell, those principles are just getting him a bloody nose.’

  Beth Arling stood in front of McCord, studying the bloodied figure. Treece had bound him with a rope to one of the high back armchairs. He was barely conscious. Yet aware of Arling’s presence he managed to lift his head and stare at her through swollen eyes.

  ‘Do your worst, lady,’ he said. His words came out in a hoarse whisper.

  ‘My worst? I promise you, Mr. McCord, you’ll know when that comes.’

  That was when they heard gunshots. More than one and not far from the house.

  ‘What the hell,’ Hawkins said. ‘Damnit, Treece, I thought those hired guns were supposed to be good.’

  ‘I guess were about to find out.’

  He left Lady in a heavy stand of brush, took his rifle and looked the area over. Brand was under no illusions. He saw the armed sentries prowling around the house and knew he was going into a fight. Whoever had McCord had gone to a great deal of trouble. They were not about to surrender him easily, and they knew he was coming. The gunshots had alerted them and that was not about to make his job any easier.

  Crouching in the undergrowth short of the house Brand checked out the opposition. He counted at least two of them. May have been more. Of a type and they told him he was facing bought and paid for guns. Men who sold their skills for a handful of dollars. None of them were dressed in anything but casual clothes. Guns for hire. They were plentiful around the fringes of society. Easily employed and found in saloons and on the edge of society where talk was cheap and men even cheaper. Easy guns to buy. With varied amounts of skill. But all with the same attitude when it came to being hired. They saw life as cheap. Easily disposed of. Their lives were empty of value and that was how they viewed their victims.

  One man patrolled the area fronting the house. The second was prowling the side of the building.

  Still concealed Brand checked his weapons. Both handguns fully loaded. So was the Winchester. His belt loops were full. He did not need to concern himself about the quality of his arms. When his life might depend on the gun in his fist he was confident of its condition. His guns were well-maintained. Always at their best.

  Movement ahead caught his attention. One of the armed men was walking in his general direction. He was fully alert. Previously a tad bored simply walking around the house and seeing nothing. Hearing nothing. The eruption of gunfire had cleared his mind of lazy thoughts. He probed the way ahead with his raised weapon. His movement was bringing him closer to Brand’s hiding place. Looking beyond the man Brand saw there were no others in the general area. Which allowed him an opportunity to reduce the odds.

  Brand laid his rifle on the ground. He hitched up his right pants leg and slid out the knife he carried in the sheath sewn inside his boot. He palmed the weapon, gripping the handle, and waited out the last few moments.

  The man moved by. A mistake that was going to cost him dear. As soon as his back was to Brand he moved. Rising silently from concealment and stepping up behind the man. At the last moment the sentry acknowledged a presence, turned quickly to face Brand as he closed in fast. His left hand smothered the sound rising in the man’s throat. The knife in his hand arced up, delivering its silent blow. The razor-sharp blade slid in between the man’s ribs and cleaved its way through to sink into his heart. The man spasmed, eyes going wide as the cold steel shut down his heart, Brand pushing it in hard, giving it a final twist to increase the damage. As the man slid to the ground Brand pulled the knife free. He caught hold of the shirt and dragged the dead weight into the bushes, then returned to retrieve the man’s fallen rifle. Returning the knife to its sheath Brand dragged the lifeless body deeper into the undergrowth. He tossed the rifle aside.

  Picking up his Winchester and checking the area Brand made a fast move that took him directly towards the house where he pressed against the timbered structure, crouching in the scant shadow.

  One way or another he was fully committed now. Still not certain how many others he might be faced with.

  He picked up a faint whisper of sound behind him. Boots on the ground. Coming his way from the side of the house. Crouching Brand eased to the corner, the approaching sound increasing. He took a low-level look. Saw another armed man approaching. Rifle raised in his hands. Brand gripped the Winchester hard, moved in a semi-crouch that brought him directly in front of the off-guard sentry. The second he was eye-to-eye with the man Brand pushed upright, swinging the Winchester in a powerful arc. The solid butt slammed into the man’s throat. Brand followed through with the heavy barrel, slamming it across the back of the man’s neck as he stumbled forward. He went to the ground in a loose-limbed sprawl without a sound. Brand took the man’s weapons and threw them aside.

  Brand moved along the side of the house, reaching the rear corner and eased around it. The back lot was strewn with accumulated debris. Some yards back the heavy grass gave way to another timberline. Brand took that in as he spotted a rear door halfway along the rear wall. Committed now there was no hesitation as he headed for the door. He yanked it open. Stepped into a kitchen holding a lighted cook stove. He picked up the smell of hot food. Coffee. Crossed the kitchen and emerged in what looked be a dining area.

  He picked up raised voices. Among them a female. A strong,
determined tone. Brand exited the room. Found himself he was in a passageway, with the front door facing him. To the left was where the voices were coming from.

  ‘Ty, go check those men outside.’

  It was the woman’s voice. And it was a command, not a suggestion.

  A door stood partway open. Brand stared into the room. Partly furnished study. A number of people grouped around a seated, bound figure.

  Despite the blood and bruises, the disheveled hair, Brand recognized Frank McCord. Not the neatly dressed, authoritative figure he knew so well.

  McCord was in a sorry condition. Showing signs of rough treatment. Face battered and bleeding from numerous gashes. But still McCord. Brand steeled himself against the image, gripped his rifle and moved in through the open door, stepping to the left, his back to the wall. He reached out with his left boot, heeling the door shut hard. The solid thump as it closed drew instant reactions.

  Heads turned.

  Arling and Treece.

  And the man Brand was to know as Ty Hawkins.

  Four more.

  In the spilt-second between seeing and acknowledging one of the gunman responded. Ignoring the leveled rifle, he decided it was time to earn his pay. It was a futile move. Destined to become fatal.

  As fast as he was gripping and raising his holstered Colt, he was too slow. Brand simply edged the muzzle of his Winchester to the side and placed a single bullet between the man’s eyes. His head snapped back, skull bursting open as the slug cleaved its way through. Eyes wide with surprise as he toppled over, dead by the time he hit the floor. Brand jacked a fresh cartridge into the breech and made his intentions clear.

  ‘First you all lay your guns on the floor. Now. Hideaway weapons as well. I’ve got a full magazine here. Work out the odds if I start firing in here. Bullets start flying McCord might get hit. If that happens you lose your ace card.’

  ‘Do as he says for now,’ Arling said. ‘We can’t risk McCord getting accidentally shot.’

  Brand watched as guns were taken out and dropped on the floor.

  ‘Knives as well. No tricks. Slide everything to the far corner.’

  He watched as the weapons were moved out of reach.

  ‘You can’t get away with this,’ Arling said.

  ‘I’m doing fine right now. If it starts getting out of hand this gun in my hand might go off.’

  Beth Arling said, ‘Would you shoot a woman?’

  ‘He’s one of McCord’s men,’ Hawkins said. ‘Don’t underestimate him.’

  ‘Not the way I underestimated you, Hawkins,’ McCord said. ‘First time my judgment let me down.’

  ‘Whatever you got,’ Hawkins said, ‘you been begging for it a long time.’

  Brand ignored him. He spoke directly to McCord.

  ‘Can you walk?’

  ‘Get these damn ropes off me and I’ll show you.’

  ‘Cut him free.’

  ‘If we don’t?’ Arling said.

  ‘I start picking my targets. Simple choice, lady.’

  Hawkins retrieved his folding knife and crossed to McCord.

  ‘Make sure it’s the rope you cut,’ Brand said as Hawkins leaned in close to sever the rope holding McCord to the chair. ‘I’d hate it if that knife slipped.’

  McCord pushed his way stiffly to his feet, sleeving at the blood on his face. There was a moment when Brand expected the man to collapse but McCord pushed past Hawkins and scooped one of the pistols off the floor.

  ‘Hawkins, drop that knife again,’ McCord said. He glanced at Brand. ‘Took your time getting here.’

  Brand managed a shrug. ‘Things were a little difficult.’

  ‘I’ll want all the details in your report.’

  Beth Arling gave a harsh laugh. ‘You think you’re safe now? It’s a long ride all the way to Washington.’

  Brand hadn’t moved from the wall. He nodded in her direction.

  ‘Who is she?’

  ‘Name of Beth Arling,’ McCord said. ‘Your friend Bodie was involved when she tried to defraud a young woman out of her holdings. Place called High Grade in Arizona.’

  ‘What’s her connection to all this?’

  ‘Long story,’ McCord said. ‘To do with a cache of diamonds. An extremely large cache of diamonds. Probably worth millions I heard. And there’s an organized crime group out of New York at the back of it. She made a deal with the late Mr. Luchino Trattori. She wants the diamonds. Seems to believe I know where they are.’

  ‘And our friend here?’

  ‘Ty Hawkins? He found about the diamonds and decided to throw in his hand with the woman. Believe it or not he was one of us until I found out he’d crossed the line.’

  ‘The hell with all this,’ Hawkins said. ‘You figure you can just walk away now? Boys out there will stop you the minute you step through the door.’

  ‘I take it you handled that before you came inside?’ McCord said.

  ‘Some. Can’t say I dealt with them all.’

  ‘Could make things difficult for us.’

  ‘I wouldn’t want you to think my job’s too easy.’ Brand indicated Arling. ‘Tie her hands in front. She comes with us. Those fellers are on her payroll. If she gets to be dead they lose their money.’

  Arling’s face flushed with anger. ‘You…’

  ‘Watch the language, lady or I might forget my manners.’

  McCord used a length of rope to secure Arling’s hands. He was not to gentle. Treece made a motion to step forward.

  ‘Think about it, feller,’ Brand said.

  McCord made his slow way to the discarded weapons, unloading them.

  ‘Son of a bitch,’ Hawkins said, ‘this ain’t over yet. We’re not about to quit.’

  Brand ignored him. He had no words for the man.

  ‘Let’s get out of here,’ he said.

  With Arling close in front Brand led the way to the door, easing it open and pushing the woman ahead. He kept the muzzle of his Colt firm against her spine.

  ‘Anyone figuring on a move think again,’ he said. ‘The lady pays your wages. She dies so does your money. Think about that. I got my gun at her backbone and be damn sure I’ll shoot if you make me nervous. It’s your choice. Alive there’s always a chance you might get paid. Dead there’s no way. Figure it out, boys.’

  ‘Five thousand extra to the man who cuts this bastard down,’ Arling said. Her voice loud, showing no trace of nerves.

  Have to admire her attitude, Brand thought. Lady likes to play the high cards.

  Two men were emerging from the perimeter. Gunfighter breed. Lean and money hungry. They took chances but only if there was a payday at the end. Right then they were figuring the odds. Arling alive held the promise of money in their hands. If she died they were out of work with the prospect of wages dying with her. One was the man Brand had struck in the throat. His expression was a mingle of pain and frustration.

  Brand made sure they saw Arling’s position.

  ‘Only takes one shot,’ Brand said. ‘Remember this lady is the money. You play this through we may be dead but so will your chance of getting paid.’

  Arling said, ‘Listen to him. I die it’s all over. Follow us and wait your chance. Remember we need McCord alive too.’

  ‘Horses at the hitch rail over there,’ McCord said.

  ‘I see ’em.’

  Keeping his Colt tight against Arling’s spine Brand edged them across to the pair of horses.

  ‘Mount up,’ Brand said to McCord. ‘And keep that gun on her real tight.’

  When McCord was in the saddle, leaning stiffly as he covered Arling, Brand got her on the second horse, then climbed up behind her.

  ‘You’re not going to make it,’ Arling said. She managed a thin smile.

  ‘If we don’t we’ll go down together. That’s a promise, lady. When I make them I don’t go back on my word.’

  He held his Colt tight against her body.

  ‘They’re going to follow us,’ Arling said. ‘You can cou
nt on that.’

  Brand led the way across the field and into the trees. To where he had tethered Lady. The horse made a pleased sound when she recognized him. Brand stepped down. He used the loosened end of the rope to tie Arling’s bound hands to the pommel.

  ‘Wouldn’t want you to fall out of the saddle,’ he said.

  ‘It’s going to be a real pleasure when I get to deal with you,’ Arling said. ‘A personal pleasure.’

  ‘Nice company you keep,’ Brand said.

  McCord shrugged. ‘Not by choice.’

  ‘You’re going to be followed,’ Arling said. ‘My people won’t give up. First chance they get you’ll be dead…’

  ‘I’m getting tired of hearing that,’ Brand said. ‘Keep it up and I’ll gag you.’

  Arling glared at him but kept her mouth shut.

  They moved through the trees, away from the house. Brand didn’t have to check behind. He knew Hawkins and his crew would be trailing after them. Staying at a discreet distance for now but following for sure.

  McCord was having a difficult time staying in his saddle. One hand gripped the saddlehorn. The effects of the beating he’d taken stayed with him were starting to have a weakening effect on him. Determined as he was his abused body struggled to remain upright.

  Arling said, ‘He’s going to give in.’

  McCord roused himself at her words.

  ‘Whatever happens to me, Arling, you won’t find out where those diamonds are. Dead or alive you’ll never get your hands on them.’

  Brand saw the murderous expression in her eyes. The hard set to her shoulders. The woman’s intense determination made her a dangerous adversary. She would fight with everything she had in her attempt to get her hands on the cache of diamonds.

  She was an ambitious woman, driven by her need to succeed in her criminal pursuit. From what he had learned of her past Brand saw Beth Arling as a formidable character. From High Grade and her clash with Bodie, to her alliance with Luchino Trattori, Arling was single minded in her purpose. Once she set her sights on what she wanted she pushed ahead with single-mindedness. Intent on getting what she wanted with no thought as to who got hurt in the process. Even now, despite being under guard, she was not quitting.