by Neil Hunter
If it hadn’t been for her criminal tendencies Beth Arling would have been a desirable woman. Brand realized that was an odd thing to imagine and had to allow himself a wry smile. He was going to have to stay alert to Arling’s feminine wiles, because if it suited her needs she would do her damndest to use them to get herself free. With Arling on one side and her hired guns following Brand was in a hard spot. She would be aware of that and use it to her advantage.
To add to his problems Brand was concerned over McCord. He was making an effort to stay in control, despite his physical injuries. From what Brand could see McCord was fighting a losing battle.
Brand figured he was holding a weak hand. It was the only one he had. Arling was the key to keeping her people back. Keeping her alive right now was his only option.
Cleve Ule sat his horse in extreme discomfort, clutching a hand against his throat where Brand had struck him. He was still in pain. Could barely speak. He refused to quit. He had a score to settle with the man he now knew as Jason Brand and he was not going to pass up the chance of having his revenge.
He rode in the loose group trailing Arling and McCord and the man Brand.
Treece, Hawkins and Jake Cruze, the Kyle brothers—Lem and Stan. And Ollie Karp.
Karp said, ‘I just recalled I saw that sonofabitch back in Cabot’s Creek. He’s the one who put Jerry Buckman down. Jerry tried to shoot him but that hombre was too damn fast.’
‘Took your time remembering,’ Hawkins said.
‘It was raining bad. I didn’t have time to do anything but get the hell out of town. Could have been me dead back there. That feller is no slouch with his gun.’
‘Let’s hope next time you don’t lose your nerve again.’
Karp dropped his hand to his gun, face flushed with anger.
‘Damnit, I could have had the local law and a posse after me. What should I have done? Stayed around and got killed myself.’
‘Hey, easy you pair,’ Treece said. ‘Save the aggression for McCord’s pet gun.’
‘I aim to settle with him,’ Ule said. His words came out as a raspy croak. ‘See if I don’t…’
Hawkins laid it out to them in clear terms.
If they wanted to get their hands on the diamond cache it was important Frank McCord stayed alive. Likewise Arling. She had the contacts who would take the diamonds and turn them into hard cash. A great deal of hard cash.
Brand was superfluous. Simply an obstacle in their way and as far as Hawkins was concerned, the man could be shot on sight. While he had Arling under his close gun they were going to need to be patient. Holding back until the moment came when they could deal with him.
‘Any hurt to the woman and you’ll have me to answer to,’ Treece had said. It was the longest speech he had made but it had the effect Treece wanted.
The man’s sheer presence was formidable. He was a walking threat. The men around Hawkins might have been gun hands. Fast to use their weapons in most cases but where Treece was concerned they remained passive.
‘I declare if you filled that son of a bitch with a full load of forty-five slugs he’d keep right on coming,’ Lem Kyle said.
His brother Stan nodded. ‘One big jasper. I wouldn’t care to brace him.’
Ollie Karp had taken to riding ahead, covering the distance without pause and distancing himself by almost an hour. He had the best tracking skills of the bunch. He could follow tracks and judge which way riders had gone and not be seen himself. He had a quiet demeanor, confident of his skills, but was not the kind to boast. Karp held the belief a man’s actions told who he was and needed no reason to make a great deal of them.
Slim and not overly tall he moved quietly, used words sparingly and missed little going on around him. He had a well-cared for Henry repeater in his saddle boot and pearl-handled Remington pistol in a left side holster, butt forward for a cross draw. He was skilled with both his weapons and the stories were that he had killed a number of men. Karp never denied or confirmed the speculation. He saw no need to advertise his kills. He knew the truth and to his way of thinking that was enough. Let others do the figuring out.
Karp drew rein, leaning in his saddle as something ahead caught his attention. From where he was crossing a grassy meadow, with a line of trees ahead, he picked out a fragment of movement and concentrated on it. He stayed motionless while he focused on the spot. Allowed his keen gaze to filter out everything around the chosen location.
He was right. He had spotted his quarry. As he fixed his gaze he was able to make out the individual shapes.
The blonde hair belonging to Beth Arling. Her distinctly shapely form forking the saddle of her horse.
To one side the hunched form of Frank McCord. From the way he leaned over his animal he was plainly uncomfortable. Due of course from the beating he had received at the hands of Ty Hawkins. His posture told Karp the man was experiencing difficulty remaining in his saddle. That would slow his reactions if anything happened.
On Arling’s other side was the man called Brand. The man had already displayed his talents when he had breached the house and taken McCord and Arling away at gunpoint. Defying the odds and using the reluctance of Hawkins and his people to do anything that might risk injury to his snatched captive. Brand knew his job, Karp gave him that. The man obviously earned his keep. Even now as he rode he kept his handgun close on Arling. Never once slackened off.
The hell with waiting, Karp decided. I can do this. Show ’em all.
He hadn’t admitted to anyone that his decision to get out of Cabot’s Creek had been purely for his survival and nothing else.
With minimum effort Karp eased his Henry from the saddle sheath. The familiar design of the rifle felt comfortable in his hands, its solid weight reassuring to him. He had owned the rifle for a number of years and knew it well. Over time he had stripped and cleaned and tested the weapon. Fired it and sighted it in. He understood its mechanism and its slight faults. Familiarity with the rifle allowed him to overcome any limitations. Used correctly the Henry had never let him down. Lifting the sight he lined up along the hexagonal barrel. As he raised the weapon he felt the smooth touch of the polished wood stock against his cheek. He settled the Henry and took aim. Became aware of the slight rise in his heartbeat. He forced himself to stay calm. Lost the faint tremble of anticipation in his hands and drew a steadying breath.
One for you, mister lawdog.
Ollie Karp gently eased back on the trigger. Knew the moment was close and his next kill was mere seconds away.
He felt the trigger slip fully back, heard the soft click as it released the firing mechanism, followed by the crack of the shot that let the .44-40 lead slug fly along barrel. The stock nudged back against his shoulder. Karp experienced the rush as his body reacted to the sensation…and in the distance he saw the man called Brand twist in his saddle before slipping sideways and falling to the ground…
Brand lay on his side, conscious, aware but at first unable to do much else. Inside his head the urgent voice was telling him to get back on his feet before someone followed up with a shot that would put an end to everything. He had been shot, that much he took in. The slug had sliced through the soft flesh under his left shoulder. Not a killing shot but it had been enough to knock him out of the saddle and put him on the ground.
He thought of his two charges.
Beth Arling and Frank McCord.
Damned if this couldn’t get serious.
He picked up his handgun, dogging back the hammer as he forced himself to his knees, blinking away the haze over his eyes. As his vision cleared he saw McCord wrestling with Arling—she had freed her hands from the saddlehorn and was striking out with her bound fists—and McCord was making an effort to subdue the woman despite his weakened condition. Their startled horses were milling about in the confusion.
Upright Brand thought about the shooter, turning, his eyes searching their back trail. The man had spurred his horse forward and even at the distance Brand could make ou
t the long shape of the rifle in his hands. Saw the weapon rise. The flash of smoke and flame as the rider fired. He was attempting the difficult task of firing from the back of a running horse. The slug kicked up dirt a yard away.
McCord gave a yell, tumbling out of his saddle as Arling delivered a savage two-fisted blow to his already battered face. In his weak state he was unable to resist. He crashed to the ground. Brand saw Arling kick her horse into motion, making a desperate run for freedom. The only way he might have stopped her would have been to put a bullet in her.
Another close shot from the fast-approaching rider made Brand change his mind. He jammed his Colt away, snatching his Winchester from the saddle boot. Brand lifted it, teeth clamped tight as he felt the weight pull against his left shoulder. Blood was streaming down his back under his shirt. He chose to overcome the discomfort as he pulled the Winchester on line, facing the head on shooter...
Karp kept coming. He wanted to make a killing but he was going about it the wrong way. He had fired twice on the move, his shots landing wide. He had seen Arling break away after McCord had dropped from his horse. It offered Karp some satisfaction.
Now he only had Brand to deal with. Though that was proving harder than Karp had imagined. The man had dropped from Karp’s first shot. But he was back on his feet, facing about and was wielding the rifle he had pulled.
Karp realized the error he had made. Losing the chance to make a sound shot by charging forward. He hauled in on the reins, bringing the horse to a sliding stop, feet thrust into the stirrups to steady himself.
He felt the butt of the Henry jut against his shoulder as he brought it to target the standing man.
He saw the burst of smoke and flame from the muzzle of the Winchester.
Ollie Karp never heard the single shot that put a .44-40 slug in his chest. Just felt the solid punch of the bullet that brought it all to an end.
Brand saw his target slide from the saddle and arc over his horse’s back. The Henry rifle slid from Karp’s grip as he thumped face down and lay still.
Brand turned about and went to where McCord lay, absently spotting Arling as she spurred into the distance. He dismissed her from his thoughts, crouching over McCord.
‘Made a mess of that,’ McCord said.
‘We won’t worry about that now.’
McCord managed a blood-streaked smile as Brand helped him to his feet.
‘Suggests you may bring it up at a later date.’
‘The boss laying down on the job? Wouldn’t dream of it.’
Brand assisted McCord back into his saddle. It was no easy task. The Justice Chief was struggling to stay upright and Brand noticed he was favoring his right side, hand pressed over his ribs. Badly bruised, maybe broken, there was little he could do about it right then. Brand wanted to make some distance between them and the others following. With McCord injured that was going to be difficult. Not that they had any choice. Ty Hawkins wasn’t about to quit now. He and Arling had set their sights on wresting information about the diamond cache from McCord. They still had a chance if they were able to recapture him and Brand figured they were far from ready to give up. It was down to Brand to keep his chief away from them and as long as he had any control over the matter that was what he was going to do.
Lady stood a few yards away, raising her head as Brand approached. He gathered the trailing reins, sliding the rifle back in place before moving around to mount.
‘Hell of a day,’ he said.
Lady eyed him as she often did, moving her head as he stroked her neck.
Brand got into the saddle, edging Lady alongside McCord’s horse.
‘I won’t fall down again,’ McCord said.
‘Just sing out if you need to take a break.’
‘You mean Hawkins will grant us some free rest time?’ This time McCord managed a full, blood-soaked smile. ‘Hell no,’ he said. ‘Talking about rest, how’s your shoulder?’
‘Hurts but we don’t have the time to do anything until we’re clear.’
‘I have your word on that?’
‘Yeah.’
McCord saw the taut expression on Brand’s face. He obviously was in pain but his stubborn nature would not let him quit. That quality had been one of the factors in McCord’s decision to hire the man in the first place. He had figured he was right all that time ago and Brand’s perseverance had brought him through many hard times. Seeing him now Frank McCord was convinced he had not been wrong and accepted it as one of his better choices.
The opposite applied as far as Ty Hawkins was concerned, McCord accepted. The man had turned bad, stepping away from the rules of the department and allying himself with Beth Arling and her scheme to steal the diamond cache. The rumors had been coming for a while about Hawkins’ behavior. The reckless way he had flouted his responsibilities applied to all of McCord’s people. The bribery. Looking the other way when he should have been taking affirmative action. The resultant dismissal had been mandatory, but too late to prevent Hawkins learning about the diamonds, throwing in with Arling and manipulating McCord’s kidnap. It was a big disappointment to McCord that one of his trusted agents had stepped over the line. Initially he had vouched for every man employed by the Justice Department. The betrayal hurt and it was something Frank McCord would not forgive.
Or forget.
Though one of their pursuers was down Brand didn’t have any idea how near the rest were and he wasn’t about to wait around. They might show at any moment if they had been close enough to hear the shots. He needed to get himself and McCord as far as possible from the men following. Glancing at McCord he realized the beating the man had received was still affecting him and there was no telling how long he might be able to sit his saddle. Brand knew the man would hang on as long as was humanly possible. That might be for an hour. Maybe no more than minutes. Sitting on a bouncing saddle was certainly not going to go easy on the man. McCord would stay upright as long as he could, forcing himself to stay on his horse until his body shut down and demanded rest.
Brand searched the way ahead. Through the trees he saw the dark bulk of a raised section of the landscape. Low, rocky hills. He eased the horses in the general direction. Keeping on riding was working against him. It was going to become harder for McCord. If Brand had been on his own he would have kept riding, moving faster—but right now he had McCord to consider. He needed to get the man somewhere he could rest, if that meant Brand had to face his enemies then that was how it would be.
He picked up a stifled groan from McCord as the man slumped forward in his saddle, clutching his ribs and making an effort to remain mounted. Brand leaned across and took the reins, leading the man’s horse as he continued through the timber.
‘Just stay in the saddle,’ Brand said. ‘That’s an order, Mr. McCord. I’m not about to lose you now.’
‘Dead,’ Jake Cruze said. ‘Never figured to see Ollie Karp put down that way.’
He was crouched beside Karp’s body. Checking the single bullet hole in the dead man’s chest.
‘Grieving over him ain’t about to get us closer to McCord and that sonofabitch Brand,’ Hawkins said. ‘We need to ride. Karp was near an hour ahead of us. That means Brand is still a good distance away.’
‘Unless he’s stayed close so’s he can pick us off as well,’ Stan Kyle said. ‘You think about that?’ He pointed a bony finger in the direction of the trees ahead. ‘Could be where he shot from.’
His brother Lem nodded in silent agreement. Reached to unleather his own rifle at his right knee. He cocked and leveled it.
‘Oh hell,’ Cruze said. ‘That be the case he’ll already be taking a bead on you, Lem, so showing him that long gun is only going to attract him.’
‘You reckon?’
‘Yeah.’
‘He’ll be long gone,’ Treece said. ‘Man has an injured partner to look out for. And Arling. Be a fool to stay around. Shooting Karp tells us to stay back else we get the same treatment.’
‘So wha
t the hell are we supposed to do? Turn back?’ Stan Kyle said.
‘We stay on his trail. Sooner or later he’s going to need to take a rest. Look to McCord.’
Treece unhooked his canteen and took a slow drink. He presented a calm manner that told the others he was in no hurry to close in on Brand yet.
‘He’s one of McCord’s best,’ Hawkins said. ‘Man does his job better’n most. He doesn’t take prisoners if you know what I mean.’
‘I thought you people didn’t know much about each other,’ Cruze said. ‘How come you to know so much?’
‘I listen and I learn. Ask questions. And do a little snooping around. That’s how I know. Man like Brand has a reputation that follows him like a damn shadow. He’s a tough hombre. Can’t deny that. Been through a lot and pulled some of the toughest assignments McCord had on his books.’
‘He’s a fair damn shot too,’ Stan Kyle said. ‘Taking down Karp means he’s sharp with a gun.’
‘Be dark in a couple hours,’ Treece said. ‘Give us a chance to close in without being spotted if we move easy.’
He gathered his reins and moved off, the others trailing behind. The killing of Ollie Karp had given them reason for caution. Not enough to deter them from what they intended but tempering them with added wariness.
They all had a solid reason to follow. The prospect of getting their hands on the diamonds overcame any concerns about personal safety. Beth Arling had already invested generous amounts of money when she hired them and the promise of even more at the end of the line was too much of a draw to walk away.
It had taken time and patience but finally Beth Arling freed her wrists. The flesh of her wrists was raw and bloody by the time she removed the rope. She eased some of the pain by pouring water from her canteen over the chafed flesh. Then she took a swallow of water, rinsing out her dry mouth as she sat in the deep shadows thrown by close standing trees, considering her next moves.