Grant examined the gun carefully, reluctantly nodded. “Yeah, guess that’s right. But you seem to know too much for your own good, Catlin.”
Cato smiled slowly. “Made a good guess, huh?”
The buckskin man nudged him roughly with a boot toe. “Too good a guess, amigo.”
Cato lay there, looking up at him. “Listen, a guess is all it was! Gospel! I ran into a slimy snake who deals in information in Laredo. Maybe you know him. Howie Pepper?”
It was a good bet that someone in the room knew of Pepper’s reputation and he was right. Both Grant and the man clad in buckskin, whom he guessed to be ‘Borden’ had heard of Pepper, though both claimed they had never met the man. Cato wasn’t sure if they were telling the truth but it didn’t seem to matter much right now.
“Well, Howie always keeps his nose down and his ears open,” he continued. “He’d just come back from across the border here and was lookin’ for somethin’ he could peddle, I guess. I dunno what else he picked up, but he told me about the Dysart woman and you, Grant, trying to get the cash money out of the Mex cattle agent. I ain’t dumb.”
“What made you figure we were here?” Grant asked tightly, very hostile.
“Took a chance. No, wait! It’s gospel! Look, I’ve come clean. I’m on the dodge—”
“Why?” barked Grant.
“Killed a Ranger.” Cato paused to let that sink in, then added: “While I was robbin’ a bank. But the same bullet that winged me made me drop the bag of loot. No money to buy me a hideout; I figured I didn’t have any choice but to head across the Rio. I got to thinkin’ about who I knew down here and there ain’t a damn soul. But I remembered Howie Pepper talkin’ about you, Grant, and the bunch who’d pulled the Houston raid. I figured if I could get in with you fellers, I’d have all the protection I needed from any undercover Ranger loco enough to come down here after me.”
“If you killed one of ’em, they’ll send someone,” Borden growled. “Which makes you a damn nuisance to have around, Catlin.”
Cato nodded towards the Manstopper. “Not with that, it don’t. I can use it good as any man alive can handle an ordinary six-gun. With that, I’m good as any three men. Can you afford to pass up that chance?”
“Why not?” Borden asked. “I’ve got your gun now.”
Cato smiled faintly. “Takes a lot of practice to learn how to use that, mister. A lot. Others’ve tried. That’s custom-fitted to my hand and wrist. Your mitt’s way too big. You’d never be able to use it as good as I can.”
Borden pursed his lips thoughtfully, shrugged, looking at Grant.
“Well?”
Kip Grant looked worried as he studied Cato for a long minute. “He seems to have all the right answers just now. And maybe we could use an extra man ...”
“Three,” Cato cut in, indicating his gun in Borden’s hands. “Take me in and you’ve got three extra men. I ain’t tryin’ to cut in on whatever you got goin’ with Dysart’s wife. I don’t want any part of that. But I do need some backin’ in case the Rangers come on down after me.”
“Well, that sounds all right, I guess,” Grant said. “Guess you can stick around. For now. We’ll do some checkin’, you know.”
“Suit yourself,” Cato said trying to sound casual as he climbed to his feet now. “You’ll find what I said is gospel. How about my gun?”
He held out his hand, but Borden made no move to give him the Manstopper. Their eyes met and held. Cato smiled crookedly.
“You’re wise to respect it, Borden, but I ain’t loco enough to try anythin’ in a room with six, seven guns coverin’ me.”
Borden hesitated only a moment longer, then handed the gun back to Cato who let it drop casually into the holster. There were some questions from the others about the shape of the holster, its high position and the forward-pointing base. Cato gave them a brief rundown on his theories, but all the while he was talking, he was listening.
He was sure he could hear someone on the floor above moving about. Slowly. Quietly. Maybe even restrictedly ...
“Don’t they use this place now?” Cato asked suddenly.
“Sure. Come Sundays. But the padre visits from another town. We won’t be here long, sure not till next Sunday—”
Grant broke off abruptly and Cato intercepted a cold look from Borden who obviously disapproved of the ramrod giving so much away. Cato pretended not to notice, merely nodded.
“Well, good place to hole-up, all right. Where we movin’ to?”
“You’ll find out when the time comes,” Borden growled.
“Okay. Say, one thing’s puzzlin’ me: Your name’s Borden and there’s Borden Dysart. Coincidence or somethin’ there?”
The big man’s face was rocky. “Not your business, Catlin.”
Cato held up a placating hand. “No offence. Just curious.” He looked around at the others. “Well, what’s a man do around here to amuse himself?”
“How about a hand of draw poker?” Grant offered.
Cato grimaced. “If there’s nothin’ else …”
Grant shook his head. “We don’t mix much with the rest of the town. They leave us alone and, long as they do, we leave them alone.”
Cato sighed. “Well, guess it’s draw-poker then.” He frowned. “You gotta go north of the Rio to collect that ransom?”
There was a chill in the room and he felt it like a cold breath, and knew he had said the wrong thing. Either that or he had broached a taboo subject.
Kip Grant produced a pack of greasy cards and began shuffling them expertly. “Draw up a box and set you down,” he said mildly, placing the deck for cutting on the scarred deal table ...
Cato played poker all afternoon, not for money, but for vestas. He tried to make it more interesting by using money but the others weren’t interested. It was just something to pass the time and he had to go along with them.
Men came and went. The small sounds from above continued from time to time. Darkness began to fall as the sun dipped behind the hills. They went to the cantina for food but Cato noticed that they left one man, Riley, back in the tower room. No one actually said so, but he figured the man was acting as a guard.
“Hey, Kip,” spoke up one of the men coming back from getting an extra helping of chili from the kitchen staff. “They say there’s a whole new bunch of Mex whores stopped-over in town for tonight. At the hotel. On their way to Durango and I hear they don’t mind—uh—keepin’ in practice, so to speak, seein’ as all their travelling been paid for.”
There was immediate interest around the table, from Grant as well as Borden. The man who had brought the news, Hallam, grinned and winked.
“You fellers wouldn’t want to see them lovely gals—uh—lose their touch now, would you?”
“I reckon not,” Grant said, standing, looking around at the others. “How about you fellers? Borden?”
The big man nodded slowly, lumbering to his feet. “Been a long time.” He set dark eyes onto Cato who hadn’t moved. “Catlin?”
Cato stifled a fake yawn, grimacing and moving his creased arm stiffly. “Well, I sure as hell hate to pass up the chance, but I’m kinda tired. Ain’t slept much in three nights, what with keepin’ an eye on my back-trail. Guess I’ll turn in while I got the chance.” He forced a grin. “But you tell those gals, if they don’t have to leave too early in the mornin’, I’ll be round to check ’em out!”
Grant grinned and Borden nodded, lips moving faintly. The others were already on their way out of the cantina.
“We’ll see you in the mornin’ then,” Borden said soberly.
Cato flicked him a salute and winked. “Buenos noches.”
“Sure sounds like it will be,” Grant said, taking Borden’s elbow and urging him towards the street door.
Cato turned and made for the stairs leading up to his room. He went in, gathered bedroll and rifle, and climbed out the window onto the kitchen roof. He slithered across the tiles and dropped the seven feet to the ground, grunting a
s he spilled, but rolled in a somersault and came up onto his feet swiftly. He would like to have been able to have his horse ready here at the back of the cantina but that was a mite too risky just now. So he stowed his bedroll, levered a shell into the rifle chamber and padded along behind the building, skirting other buildings and houses until he could approach the mission from behind. He saw now that much of it had fallen into disrepair and he made his way quietly around to the side and looked up.
There was a light showing at a window on the floor above the room where Borden had first taken him. The room where he had heard the sounds of someone moving about as if pacing, movement restricted by bonds ...
Riley was on guard in the room below and he started to his feet as Cato stepped in. The man reached for his gun but Cato shook his head, holding his cocked rifle easily down at his side, using his body to hide the notched-back hammer.
“Easy, man. Grant asked me to relieve you. Says for you to get over to the cantina and have your supper. Then you come on back here, savvy?”
Riley frowned uncertainly. “He don’t usually work it that way.”
Cato shrugged. “That’s what he said. Wants you to bring some grub back for the girl, too.”
Riley stiffened and suddenly lunged for his rifle where it rested against the wall. Cato took a step forward and smashed his own rifle barrel across the side of Riley’s head. The man went down on hands and knees, shaking his head, blood dripping from his nose. Cato kicked him squarely in the face, the impact lifting his body clear of the ground and slamming it into a wall. Riley moaned once as he slid to the floor and then flopped over onto his face, unconscious.
Cato held his rifle in both hands now, eyes darting around the room, checking it out. It seemed just as he had left it earlier when they had gone to the cantina. He listened. There was no sound from the room above.
He walked across to a door and cautiously opened it. A narrow stairway beyond led upwards. It smelled dusty. He looked straight up, saw the outline of the heavy bronze bell up in the arched tower top. Slowly, rifle at the ready, Cato moved up the narrow stairs, placing his boots carefully, testing each tread before putting his weight on it. He saw the landing and the door of the other room in the deep shadow. A line of light showed beneath.
With any luck, the girl would be behind that door and he could get her out of here and take her with him to meet Yancey at the dry wash by the candle butte.
With luck ...
He paused on the landing, looked down the stairs again but there was no sound from below. He placed an ear to the door panel, thought he heard someone moving about inside. Cato held the rifle one-handed, tried the latch with his left hand, feeling the wooden locking peg dangling from its rawhide thong. A little puzzled at this, he lifted the latch and began to ease the door open.
Likely it didn’t matter much whether the door was locked or not. The only way out was through the room below; he didn’t think Dolores Dysart would feel like climbing way up into the tower, unless she was part fly, for the way down was to jump or scale down the outside wall. Impossible, he thought.
Then the door jarred quietly as it swung back against the wall and he saw the woman in the room jump, snapping her head up fast.
It was Dolores Dysart.
He recognized her from photographs that Borden Dysart had shown at the governor’s mansion on Capitol Hill in Austin. She was as beautiful as she had looked in the sepia-tinted photographs. More so, he allowed, seeing the light of the single oil lamp reflecting from her dark eyes and the moist redness of her passionate lips as they parted slightly in surprise at his appearance. Then he saw the first shock pass and her eyes widened and her mouth opened as she prepared to cry out.
Cato lunged across the room, knocking over the table where she sat, with the meal laid out neatly on it. He stumbled over the clattering furniture as she tried to get out of her chair and step backwards. His clawing left hand grabbed her buckskin vest and he tightened his grip, his weight pulling her off-balance to fall on top of him as he sprawled full length.
Her cry was stifled in her throat and she fought to get free as their limbs tangled. Cato caught a small, hard fist in the mouth and swore under his breath, desperately trying to keep hold of his rifle and lower the hammer spur before the weapon detonated and brought the others running. He managed to get the hammer lowered and butted the girl in the stomach with his head.
The breath gusted out of her and she drew up her knees as she fought to breathe. Panting, Cato placed a hand either side of her head, using his weight to pin her to the floor, enjoying the sensation even in his apprehension that Grant and Borden might decide to check on the girl.
“Listen!” he whispered, grabbing her jaw and forcing her to turn her head to look at him. As she opened her mouth, he covered it with his hand, crushing her lips back against her teeth. “Damn it, listen to me, will you!”
Dolores glared defiantly up at him above his hand and her teeth worked, trying to get a bite at his calloused palm. He pressed harder and saw pain flash in her eyes, felt her moan quietly against his hand.
“For hell’s sake!” he ground out. “Look, I don’t aim to hurt you! I’m not with Grant or Borden or the others. They think I am, but I’m not, I’m one of Governor Lester Dukes’ Enforcers. You savvy what I’m saying?”
Her body had stiffened under him at his words and her eyes widened above his hand as they stared up at him. A crease showed on her forehead.
“Yeah, I know it’s a shock, but I’m speakin’ gospel. It’s taken us quite some time to track you down, but I’m here to get you out now and with any luck, we’ll be on our way back to Texas by mornin’. You okay now?”
The girl was still staring at him, a trifle shocked, but she nodded as well as she could. Cato eased the pressure on her mouth with his hand experimentally. He felt her move her numbed lips and then he sat back on his hams, releasing her.
“I managed to make Grant and the others think I was on the dodge from the Rangers. We don’t have a helluva lot of time, señora.”
He stood and offered her his left hand. Dolores took it, still looking at him in disbelief and slowly climbed to her feet. Cato grinned.
“Sorry for roughin’ you up but it was the only way I could think of at the time to stop you lettin’ out a yell that’d bring the others a’runnin’.”
“Si. It was most effective, Señor ...?”
“Cato. But never mind that. Let’s get out of here.”
He turned towards the door, bringing up his rifle.
Then he jumped almost a foot in the air as the girl cut loose with a piercing scream that almost shattered his eardrums.
Cato whirled, crouching, stunned as he stared at Dolores standing in the middle of the small room, preparing to scream again.
“Hell almighty, what’s wrong?” he snarled, starting forward and then she brought her hand around from behind her back and he stared incredulously at the small twin-barreled derringer as it glittered in the lamplight. He froze.
“Drop your gun, Señor Cato!” Dolores snapped.
Cato’s jaw dropped as the rifle slid from his grasp. The derringer barrels jerked and he lifted his hands as he heard pounding boots outside the mission tower downstairs.
“What in hell ...?” he murmured.
Dolores Dysart smiled faintly.
“You made one big mistake, Enforcer. I don’t want to go back to Texas. Not to anyone. Especially not to Borden Dysart.”
And, in a blinding flash, Cato saw it all.
“Well, damn me. Who’d’ve thought it? You rigged your own kidnapping.”
Dolores’ smile widened as boots pounded up the narrow staircase outside.
“Of course. It was the only way to get some money of my own from that miser Borden Dysart!”
Cato sagged back against the wall and didn’t resist when Kip Grant strode in and relieved him of the Manstopper once more.
He felt too stunned.
Nine – Paid in Full
/> Minutes later, Cato’s hands were tied behind him and he was slammed down into a corner of the tower room, bleeding and dazed from the blows Borden had dealt him. He spat out a broken tooth and lay there, looking up at the men crowding into the small room.
Dolores Dysart stood to one side. Kip Grant had an arm about her waist, possessively. Cato sighed and nodded slowly.
“I think I savvy now,” he slurred. “Dysart’s all bluster. Not quite the man he leads folk to believe, huh? Specially in the romance side of things.”
The girl said nothing but Grant shrugged.
“Bastard was always bawlin’ me out in front of other people. He done it once too often. Made Dolores feel sorry for me.” He winked, mighty pleased with himself. “He’s a stingy polecat, too. Allowed her to buy some things and footed the bill. But wouldn’t let her have any money of her own, except a few bucks, now and again. She wanted a slice of his thousands but he kept ’em to himself.”
Cato nodded. “So you rigged the kidnappin’ between you to bleed him out of a hundred grand. Killed some good men to do it.”
Grant shrugged. “Made it look more realistic.”
Cato watched the girl, who said nothing. “Too bad for you Dysart lived up to his ‘bastard’ image. He has a hold on Governor Dukes and used it to try to save his hundred grand.”
Dolores’ passionate lips curled. “It is typical of him! But it has not been successful, Señor Enforcer. We gave him an extension but his time is almost up now.”
Cato laughed briefly. “What you gonna do if he don’t cough up? Send him your ear like you threatened?”
She colored and walked across swiftly, driving the pointed toe of her small boot into his ribs. Grant laughed. Borden chuckled. Cato grunted and sagged over to one side, gagging for breath. “He—will—pay!” she gritted between her teeth. “He will!”
The Enforcer looked up at her through a wave of pain. “Good luck to you, then!” he said huskily, sounding as bitter as he could make his voice. Then he swiveled his eyes to the big bearded man in buckskin. “Who’s this Borden? And where does he fit in?”
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