The Ten Per Cent Gang
Page 11
‘You shouldn’t be proud of that, Sheriff,’ he said. ‘You’re just as sneaky as me.’
Creed shook his head. ‘You’re wrong. I’m sneakier.’
Then, aside from the occasional chuckle from Creed and Drago and the muttered oaths from Bell, the riders rode in silence to Lincoln.
But Fairborn’s silence was a brooding one. The layers of duplicity he and Creed had just perpetrated bowed his back, and with every pace his guts grumbled some more and his brow knitted so hard he felt the flesh creak.
Four miles out of Lincoln, the train approached from behind them. They watched the engine rattle past, then hurried on to keep the train in sight.
Five minutes after the train trundled into Lincoln, they rode down the main drag.
In the center of town, Mayor Lynch and a delegation of wagon riders were gesticulating widely as they conducted an animated conversation. A circle of townsfolk was growing around them.
When the mayor saw the approaching lawmen, he pushed through the circle of onlookers and dashed towards them.
Creed licked his lips. ‘I’m going to enjoy this.’
‘I’m glad somebody is,’ Fairborn said.
‘Cheer up, Alan,’ Creed said. ‘We netted the Ten Per Cent gang and Clayton Bell in one go.’
‘Only by ignoring everything the law stands for.’
‘You idiot,’ Mayor Lynch shouted, placing himself before Creed’s horse with his hands on his hips. ‘Bell raided you and stole fifty thousand dollars. Then he—’
‘Stop there.’ Creed dismounted and to his instructions, Drago dragged Bell from his horse. ‘This is Clayton Bell. He’s under arrest and everyone else in his gang is dead.’
Mayor Lynch staggered back a pace, then looked at Bell.
‘He doesn’t look like much.’
‘That’s because he isn’t.’ Creed kicked Bell’s rump, pushing him to his knees.
‘Did you get back the fifty thousand, too?’
‘It’s secure.’
Lynch whistled and rubbed his forehead. ‘And the Ten Per Cent gang?’
‘Either dead or misdirected.’ Creed drew in a long breath of cool air. ‘Perhaps the right word is disbanded.’
Mayor Lynch beamed. ‘I always said you were a fine lawman and that you’d justify my faith in you.’
‘I’m glad to hear it.’ Creed puffed his chest. ‘I reckon the townsfolk will call me the Ten Per Cent Sheriff for a while, and I’ll be proud of it.’
Creed directed Drago to drag Bell to the cells in the sheriff’s office, then turned to Fairborn.
‘Get the money back, Alan. Then I reckon we’ve earned ourselves a celebratory drink.’
Fairborn considered the grinning mayor, then his smirking boss, then the hunched Clayton Bell disappearing into the sheriff’s office. He looked over his shoulder at the train.
‘You and that toad, Jonah Eckstein, can get it. You complement each other.’ Fairborn removed his badge from his pocket and threw it at Creed’s feet. ‘I quit.’
‘But this is our greatest triumph.’
‘It’s yours. To catch Bell you lowered yourself to the level of an outlaw.’
‘The result is all that matters.’
‘I don’t agree. When you forget you’re a lawman and double-deal, somebody pays the price. In this case it was Nat McBain, a decent man.’
Creed shrugged. ‘He made his choices.’
‘And I’ve made mine. You once told me I had to decide how far I was prepared to go. Well, I’ve decided.’ Fairborn pointed at the train. ‘And the answer is Denver.’
Fairborn turned and strode across the main drag towards the station.
‘Don’t do this,’ Creed shouted after him. ‘You’ll reconsider when you realize just what we’ve done here. We’ve sorted everything out.’
Fairborn stopped and turned. ‘I hope you enjoy having everyone call you the Ten Per Cent Sheriff.’
Creed glared back, but Fairborn resumed walking to the station.
When he’d arrived in Lincoln two years ago, his only possessions were the cloths he wore. Now he reveled in leaving in the same state.
He boarded the train and sat in the seat at the back of the first passenger car. There, he could see down the main drag.
From under a lowered hat, he watched Sheriff Creed collect and enjoy the congratulations and back-slapping from all directions.
Drago emerged from the office and Creed patted him on the back. He glanced at the train, shook his head, then pinned Fairborn’s badge on Drago’s chest.
As both men strode to the bank, side by side, the train lurched to a start and edged from the station.
Just as the main drag disappeared from Fairborn’s view, Creed charged from the bank, his face bright red and his arms wheeling.
On the train, Fairborn leaned back in his seat, smiling. He swung his legs on to the opposite seat and pulled his hat low.
Chapter Twenty-seven
In a copse, ten miles out of Lincoln, a lone man sat astride his horse. The man was plump, short and balding. A rifle lay across his lap.
A bulging saddle-bag lay over the back of his horse. On the ground before him, two more bulging saddle-bags lay.
He watched two riders trot towards him, one fair-haired, the other darker. The two riders slowed to a halt.
With a steady movement, the fair-haired rider swung his Peacemaker from its holster, but kept it held across his chest as the dark-haired man swung down from his horse and moved to the saddle-bags. He threw one open and looked up, smiling, then tipped his hat.
‘It’s time we called an end to our agreement and made our own way,’ he said.
The short man nodded and backed his horse. ‘It is.’
‘Where are you heading?’
‘I’m not looking to cause you offence, but I’m not answering that. Likewise, I’m not interested in your plans.’
‘Understood, and believe me when I say that Nat and me won’t look for you.’ Spenser swung the first saddle-bag on to his shoulder and picked up the second. ‘There’s more than enough here without us getting greedy.’
‘Then we think the same way.’
Spenser swung the first saddle-bag on to the back of Nat’s horse, then swung the second on to his horse.
Nat edged forward and tipped his hat. ‘I’ll say goodbye, Jonah. We’ve pretty much removed everyone that could have come after us, but that still leaves Sheriff Creed and we reckon he’ll come looking for you first. He’s sure to realize you were the only one who knew where Fairborn buried the shipment.’
‘I reckon that sheriff isn’t as stupid as you think. He’ll figure the rest out before too long and he’ll come looking for you, too.’
‘Perhaps.’ Nat edged his jacket open to expose his clean shirt. ‘But he kind of has the idea that I’m dead and that he fooled Spenser. He’ll think of you first.’
Jonah nodded. ‘I thank you for your advice, but I’ll leave you now. I have my fifteen thousand dollars to enjoy.’
Spenser paused beside his horse and narrowed his eyes.
‘Fifteen thousand dollars each isn’t what we expected. Fifty thousand dollars was supposed to be in the shipment.’
Jonah chuckled. ‘Sorry, but I figured that we were rich enough now to enjoy winding up Creed even more.’
Spenser muttered under his breath, but Nat matched Jonah’s chuckle.
‘That was a fine idea.’
‘What idea?’ Spenser asked as he mounted his horse, but Nat shook his head and backed his horse from the copse.
Matching Nat’s movements, Jonah backed his horse. Then, when he was fifty yards away, he shook the reins and hurtled away in a cloud of dust.
Nat watched him leave, then nodded to Spenser. In a simultaneous shaking of the reins, the two men galloped away in the opposite direction.
Spenser drew his horse alongside Nat’s horse. ‘Are you going to tell me what was so funny about us not getting all of the fifty thousand?’
‘Do the math.
Fifteen thousand for three men means he left five thousand for Creed to find.’
Spenser bit his lip as he calculated, then allowed himself a smile.
‘I see what you mean. That was the Ten Per Cent gang’s last job – and this time, we left ten per cent.’
Chapter Twenty-eight
Five minutes out of Lincoln, the conductor headed into Fairborn’s car.
‘Ticket,’ he said when he reached Fairborn.
‘Denver,’ Fairborn said, tipping back his hat. ‘One way.’
The conductor peeled off a ticket and took Fairborn’s money, then narrowed his eyes.
‘Are you not planning on returning then, Deputy Fairborn?’
‘Nope, and I’m not a deputy no more.’
‘Pity, from what I’ve heard, you did a good job back in Lincoln.’
‘Thanks for your support.’ Fairborn slipped the ticket into his pocket. ‘But it’s time to move on.’
‘What are you planning to do in Denver?’
‘A wagon rider might be the right job for me. The banks might appreciate having an honest man guarding their cash shipments.’
‘I wish you luck,’ the conductor said and moved on to the next passenger.
Fairborn looked through the window, watching the barren plains pass by. Then he swung his legs down to the floor.
From under his seat, he removed the shovel that he’d used to bury his own stash of forged cash and threw it on to the seat opposite. Then he reached under that seat, extracted four bulging bags, and placed them on the seat between himself and the train wall.
‘I don’t need luck,’ Fairborn said to himself as he patted the bags. ‘I reckon the safe delivery of fifty thousand dollars will make a mighty powerful statement.’
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Wanted: McBain
Sheriff Cassidy Yates couldn’t believe his eyes when he read the Wanted poster. His ex-deputy, and friend, Nathaniel McBain was both a wanted man and a member of Rodrigo Fernandez’s ruthless outlaw gang.
There’s nothing worse than a lawman gone bad, and Cassidy knows it’s his duty to arrest McBain. But when he finds him, McBain claims the Wanted poster is wrong and his true intention is to infiltrate Fernandez’s gang and bring the outlaw to justice.
Is McBain really working undercover? Only one thing is certain: when Cassidy learns the full truth about McBain’s plan, it will test to the very limit the strength of his friendship and his duty as a lawman.