Bannerman the Enforcer 8

by Kirk Hamilton

  That had been the mistake, Lila thought, accepting all that money. They should have just taken what they needed but it had been too much of a temptation and, of course, they had built a fine ranch house with furnishings ma could be proud of and they had given her the best medical treatment, right up until the day she died. The funeral would be long remembered in Amarillo, too, and it had been paid for with some of the mortgage money.

  Then the season had turned bad, as seasons do, and the bottom had fallen out of the beef market and mortgage payments had suddenly become due. It had been downhill ever since and now they would be lucky to hang onto the ranch, even though Morgan had taken on that deputy’s job in town to try to help out. She hadn’t wanted him to take the lawman’s job. It was dangerous; that was why they paid so well. But Morgan had laughed. Hell, he’d said, nothing happened in Amarillo except a few drunken brawls amongst the cowpokes on a Saturday night. The town paid for his food and lodging, so what he was paid could go straight into the ranch, or the bank.

  Lila had reluctantly admitted that it made sense but she hadn’t felt easy about him wearing that lawman’s star. Morgan was brave enough, but he was no gunfighter and if he was called on to use his Peacemaker ... She refused to think about it. He had held the job for two weeks so far and all had gone well, but she was unable to shake the uneasy feeling.

  Now, she would have to go into town and see what she could do about getting some barbed wire for a new fence before the rest of the calves were lost. Morgan was supposed to be paid by the month, but maybe Sheriff Nick Lacy would allow him to draw against his salary.

  Lila was a medium-tall girl, healthily tanned, but her skin was already showing signs of the wrinkles that would turn it leathery before very long, under the onslaught of the blistering Texas sun. She was in her mid-twenties, black-haired, brown-eyed, considered ‘handsome’ by most of the bucks in Amarillo but she had shown little interest in men. The ranch was her life; at least until it was clear of debt. She washed swiftly now, changed into a clean riding habit and took the old double-barreled Ithaca shotgun down from the pegs above the fireplace. She didn’t carry side arms and Morgan didn’t like her riding alone without a saddle gun of some sort. He had taken the best Winchester with him when he had gone into town on the lawman’s job and the other rifle was unreliable. The firing pin was badly corroded and it only worked sometimes. With wolves about and desperate enough to come into home pastures after calves, she needed to have a weapon that would shoot every time, for sure. The old Ithaca filled the bill and, though it jutted awkwardly from the saddle scabbard, she could pull it out easily and have a good chance of hitting whatever she shot at. She loaded it with two twelve gauge shells charged with buckshot and put a half-dozen more in her pockets.

  Then she mounted the lean-flanked dappled gray gelding and rode out of the ranch yard. There had been a time when they had had two men working for them, their wages paid out of that big mortgage loan. They had laid one off first and managed to keep the other man for several weeks, but he, too, had had to go. Now the place looked neglected, simply because she couldn’t hope to get through all the work and, even when Morgan was here, there were just too many chores.

  Lila slammed home the spurs and whipped the gray up the slope and soon put the hogback between herself and the ranch. It was better that way. When she looked back now she couldn’t see its dilapidated condition and she could imagine it as it used to be. As it would be again one day. No matter what it took.

  ~*~

  Lila knew as soon as she started to ride into the main street that something had happened. Folk who were going about their normal business stopped to stare at her and they all looked concerned. She felt a cold knot form in her stomach and her teeth clamped tightly together, making small ridges of muscle bulge along her jaw. She twisted the reins so tightly around her hand that the leather bit into her flesh and she heeled the gray, urging it to a faster pace.

  She knew most of the townsfolk by sight, as they knew her, but she didn’t see anybody that she knew well enough to stop and ask what was wrong.

  When she reached the law office, she found it was closed up tight and she knew that Sheriff Nick Lacy must still be away. Then where was Morgan? She looked around, saw two townsmen starting to turn away. They had obviously been staring at her back. She knew them; storekeepers from across the way, running a general store in partnership.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Ballard,” she called to the portly one. “And to you, Mr. Harrison.”

  Both men checked and turned slowly, their hands going to their hat brims, touching them politely as they nodded to the girl.

  “Afternoon, Lila,” they said in unison, looking uncomfortable. Ballard added: “If you’d excuse us ...? We have a lot of accounting to do.”

  “Before you go,” Lila said, halting them again as they made to move away. She forced her voice to sound calm, though she was in turmoil inside, knowing now that something bad had happened to Morgan. “Gentlemen, will you tell me what’s happened? Oh, please don’t try to look as if you don’t know what I’m talking about. I’ve seen it the full length of the street; folk staring, looking away instead of greeting me or even holding my gaze. And where is my brother?”

  Harrison and Ballard glanced at each other and Ballard nodded slowly to his partner. Harrison cleared his throat and clasped his hands in front of him like a preacher.

  “Morgan’s down at the coroner’s, Lila,” he said raspily.

  She felt relief at first. Harrison had made it sound as if her brother was down there on business. Then she saw the way Ballard looked at his partner and the portly man’s face hardened as he nudged Harrison roughly in the ribs.

  “Your yellow streak’s showin’ a mile wide down your back, pardner!” Ballard wheezed. “Don’t you leave it at that. You tell Lila all of it! Hear?”

  Harrison looked uncomfortable as he swallowed and refused to meet the girl’s worried gaze. Glancing down at the dust of the street, he murmured quickly, “There was a gunfight and Morgan got hisself killed.”

  “What?” the girl exclaimed, hoping she had heard wrong, for the storekeeper had spoken in a low voice and his words had tumbled over one another.

  But Harrison spoke all too clearly this time.

  “Sorry, Lila. There was trouble in the saloon. This gunfighter called Sundance got drunk and started shootin’ up the place. Killed Shawn the barkeep, Lord the houseman. Morg was the only law in town. He had to go see what it was all about. It was his duty.”

  She stared coldly at him, her mouth pulled into a thin, ugly line. She was amazed that she felt nothing right now, only a kind of numbness, and a rising anger. Her voice was very calm when she spoke.

  “Yes. He had taken the oath of office, and Morgan was a man who knew his duty. Always.”

  “We’re real sorry, Lila,” Ballard spoke up. “Weren’t nothin’ anyone could do. This Sundance, he’s like a bolt of lightnin’. No one who seen it has ever seen the likes of his speed. His hand just didn’t seem to move, and that’s gospel.”

  “It was a fair-and-square shoot-out then?” she asked, still amazed at her coolness. Why, even the knot in her stomach had gone. She didn’t remember ever feeling so calm. It puzzled her. She had just been told her brother had been shot down by a drunken gunfighter and here she was standing calmly in the hot afternoon sun of a Texas street, discussing the details quite rationally with a couple of storekeepers.

  She looked steadily at Harrison as he finished telling her how it had happened.

  “Where’s this Sundance now? Has he ridden on?” she asked Harrison.

  “Nope. He’s still upstairs in the saloon. With—with two gals, so I hear.” He had the grace to blush and look away.

  “I see. Thank you for taking Morgan down to the coroner’s for me,” she said politely. “Tell the undertaker to start laying him out, please, if you would. The funeral will be tomorrow morning. And I’d like a headstone. Not a pine-board marker. But a carved stone to matc
h the one on ma’s grave. Morgan will be buried beside her, of course.”

  “Of course, Lila,” Ballard said gently. He put a hand lightly on her arm. “We’ll be glad to take care of the arrangements for you, Lila. And I reckon Mrs. Ballard would be pleasured if you’d come over to the house and …”

  “No, thank you, Mr. Ballard,” Lila said, speaking very clearly and distinctly. “It’s very kind of you. But I have something to attend to.”

  She turned to her horse and before their astonished eyes, took the double-barreled Ithaca shotgun down from the saddle scabbard. She broke it open and checked the loads.

  “My God, gal!” Harrison breathed. “You ain’t goin’ after him!”

  Lila didn’t answer. She took a step forward then stopped as Ballard moved into her path. Her eyes looked slightly glazed. “Look, girl, you can’t do this! It’s madness!”

  “Move aside please, Mr. Ballard,” she asked quietly.

  “Look, don’t be foolish, young lady!” Ballard blustered, then gasped as the shotgun barrels rammed into his midriff. He jumped back, rubbing at the sore place just above his belt buckle, as the girl brushed past. He turned to Harrison as she strode purposefully across the street towards the saloon. “Stop her, you fool!”

  Harrison took a half-hearted step forward and then swiftly shook his head. “I don’t reckon we can,” he breathed and the two men stood in the middle of the street and watched as Lila Lorrance walked across the boardwalk, still spotted with her brother’s blood, and pushed open the bullet-pocked batwings with the shotgun’s barrels.

  She entered the bar, paying no attention to the half-dozen hardened drinkers who had decided they would chance meeting Sundance as long as they could get whiskey. The gambler was still serving at the bar and his jaw sagged as he saw the girl. Lila stopped in the center of the room, still looking very calm, the shotgun cradled easily in her arms.

  “Which room is he in?” she asked.

  “Wh-who?” stammered the gambler.

  “The gunfighter who killed Morgan!” she snapped irritably. “I’m told he’s still here.”

  The gambler nodded. “Sure. Upstairs in room four. But, listen, ma’am, you ain’t got no notion to ...?”

  She was already starting up the stairs and the gambler looked helplessly at the drinkers who were staring after her.

  “Judas priest!” breathed one man. “We’re gonna be buryin’ the whole Lorrance family this day!”

  But no one tried to stop her.

  Lila climbed the stairs then moved slowly along the gloomy passage until she came to the door with the numeral ‘four’ painted on it. She could hear sounds coming from inside. A girl was weeping, another was making some sort of animal sound as if she was afraid. Lila lifted her left hand and knocked loudly. The sounds stopped abruptly. She knocked again.

  “Yeah?” snarled a man’s voice, the word slurred.

  “Sundance?”

  “Yeah.” He sounded surprised at her voice. “Who’s that?”

  “My name’s Lila. I thought you might be tired of those two. I’m fresh. Just risen from a long sleep. And I know things those two haven’t even heard about. And I like gunfighters.”

  She hoped her voice sounded seductive, but she didn’t really care. If it didn’t work, she was quite prepared to use one barrel to blast the lock off. That would leave one charge of buckshot for Sundance.

  She heard a slap and a cry, then the shuffling of stockinged feet and the latch rattled. The door opened a little and she saw part of his face as he stared out blearily. She also caught the glint of gunmetal down at his side and she didn’t hesitate.

  She had the shotgun leveled at the door with both hammers at full cock. Lila pulled both triggers without any emotion whatsoever showing on her face.

  The door was blown off its hinges, though most of the panels were shattered and shredded by the double charge of buckshot. Sundance’s body was destroyed an instant after the thunderous detonation and his remains were hurled across the small room, fouling the peeling wallpaper and the tousled bedclothes and spraying the two naked saloon girls with blood and gristle.

  Lila Lorrance turned away and walked calmly back to the head of the stairs, the smoking shotgun cradled in her arms. She walked down stiffly, her face like a mask, her ears ringing, dimly hearing the hysterical screams of the saloon girls, seeing the men in the barroom staring open-mouthed at her, the other townsmen pouring in through the batwings.

  Then she reached the bottom of the stairs and without any warning, crumpled to the floor in a dead faint.

  Two – Bloody Dollars

  Sheriff Nick Lacy was a tough man; he had been lawman in many trail towns, including a spell as town marshal in Dodge and another as deputy in Tombstone. He was in his mid-forties and had a face that seemed to reflect the hard years behind him. It was leathery, lined and craggy, but his blue eyes were soft with warmth now as he looked across his cluttered desk at the pale-faced Lila Lorrance.

  “There’ll be no charges agin you, Lila,” he told her quietly. “Ought to pin a medal on you, truth be known. You shamed the yellerbellies in this town who pass for men.”

  She shook her head swiftly. “That’s not true, Nick. I—I really didn’t know what I was doing. Even now, it all seems like a bad dream, as if I’m standing on the sidelines and watching some strange woman in my clothes walk up to that room and—and—”

  “No need to feel bad in any way, Lila. Sundance was a snake. He was from the north, the Dakotas. In fact, he was wanted up there for murder.” He leaned forward in his chair and rummaged amongst the wanted dodgers. “Here. Fargo, North Dakota. Killed a young feller not out of his teens. Claimed the kid called him out, but folk later swore he prodded the kid into reaching for his gun. They hung the murder charge on him and they’d’ve made it stick if they’d nabbed him. But that makes no nevermind now. The reward does, though.”

  He looked up at the girl and smiled slowly.

  “Don’t it?” he asked gently.

  Lila frowned. “I guess so,” she said slowly. This was the first she had heard of a reward but almost instantly hope lifted in her. With some money behind her, to either pay the mortgage or enough to stall off the bank a little longer, she could maybe save the ranch. And Morgan’s past efforts wouldn’t be wasted. He didn’t actually die for the ranch, but he wouldn’t be dead now if it hadn’t been for the ranch and the mortgage on it. It would be fitting if the reward on his murderer enabled her to keep the place he had worked so hard to build up.

  “It’s quite a deal,” the sheriff went on. “Town thought a heap of that kid, it seemed. Five thousand bucks, and I wouldn’t be surprised if there’re other bounties on him. Man like Sundance would be bound to have had trouble with the law in more’n one place.” He grinned as he saw the hope showing on her face. “Yeah, Lila, you’ll get a good break at last and I’m mighty glad for you. If you like to run across to the bank and tell ’em you’ll have money to meet that mortgage comin’ through, and arrange with ’em to hold off till it gets here, I’ll make out the claim papers and have ’em all ready for you to sign by the time you get back.”

  She was a moment standing, her legs feeling weak at the news he had given her. Then she managed a smile and stood up, looking elegant in her best clothes which she had worn for Morgan’s funeral earlier in the day. She started to speak, couldn’t find the words and then turned and hurried out of the office.

  Nick Lacy started to whistle, genuinely pleased about the girl’s change of fortune. He searched for a reward claim form which he would have to fill out and sign and have countersigned by a judge. He would then forward it to Fargo, North Dakota, in Lila’s name. He came across the small cloth sack that contained Sundance’s belongings and remembered he hadn’t yet gone through the man’s saddlebags which had been brought over to the office by the liveryman.

  Lacy figured he had better do that now, before he forgot. He bent down, reached under his desk and brought out the worn and weathered
saddlebags that had belonged to the gunfighter. He was still whistling quietly when he unbuckled the strap and opened the flap on the first one. But, when he found some papers in the bottom of the bag and unfolded them and read them slowly, the whistle slowly grew fainter and fainter, until, finally, it died away completely.

  Lacy went through the other saddlebag, picked up the papers once more and leaned back in his chair. He was rereading them when the smiling Lila Lorrance came hurrying back in.

  “The bank will hold off until the reward money comes through, Nick! Isn’t that marvelous!” she said, but the smile faded from her face as she saw the way he looked at her. “What is it?”

  Lacy clamped his lips tightly together, then let out a long sigh, lifting the papers he held in his hand.

  “I’m sorry, Lila. Looks like I’ll have to hold off on puttin’ in your claim for that reward money.”

  She frowned, sitting down slowly. “I don’t understand.”

  Again he indicated the papers. “Found these in the bottom of Sundance’s saddlebag. He was heading south on a job someone had hired him for. Down in Mexico. It sounds serious. I’ll have to forward these papers to the Rangers, and they might not want it spread around that Sundance is dead until they have a chance to look into things. I’m sorry, Lila.”

  She suddenly looked like an old woman, all signs of her earlier radiance having disappeared.

  “The bank will only hold off for a week or so,” she said tonelessly.

  Lacy pursed his lips. “No way round it, Lila. These papers’ll have to go to someone with more authority than me. They could be important.”

  Lila nodded slowly, her face bitter. “Of course. And while they get read and re-read and ultimately filed away by some grubby little clerk with frayed cuffs, I lose my ranch to the bank!” She stood up abruptly. “That could just be important, too, Nick Lacy!”

  She turned on her heel and strode out of the law office.

  The sheriff swore quietly; it was times like this when he felt like turning in his badge. But he was a man who knew where his duty lay and he would not deviate from it. These papers had to go to the Rangers. And pronto.