“No more till morning, Chuck.”
“Hell, these beans’re sticking in my craw!”
“Which is why I told you to keep your ration until after you’d eaten, but you had it first. Now there’s no more till sunup.”
Chuck started to protest then looked away from Yancey’s cold eyes. He shrugged resignedly and leaned back against the flat slab of lava.
“Well,” he said raspily, “guess I might as well try to take my mind off it by telling you about the Texas end of the deal. But I’m gonna be mighty dry by the time I’m through.”
Yancey put the canteen on the worn blanket beside him and looked his brother squarely in the eyes. “Sun-up. Not before, Chuck.”
Chuck looked angry but sighed resignedly. Then he began to talk, telling them about the Texas end of the deal that had blown up in their faces.
Eight – Hell and Texas
Yancey didn’t like what he heard. There were all kinds of angles to it that Chuck apparently hadn’t seen and Yancey knew by the look on Cato’s face that his fellow Enforcer had also noticed them when Chuck had told his story.
It was simple enough, or sounded so in the telling.
After Sundance had used his gun to kill off or drive off the peons on behalf of the governmentas, he was to be paid ten thousand pesos in gold and this fee was to include his ‘mopping-up’ operation in Texas. But Yancey knew it was much more than that.
There was a town called Bodie, on the Colorado River between Gonzales and Houston, which Yancey knew from his trail-driving days. It was a cattle town, in fact, the central town for that region. Beef was sold there to a gathering of agents from all over the States. Meat works as far away as Chicago sent representatives down to Bodie for the big beef sales, so that they might get the best possible bargains. While there were other great cow towns like Abilene and Dodge and some of the older ones along the beef trails, it paid the meat-packing houses to send their agents right down into the Lone Star State, to the heart of the cattle-raising country. Prices were cheaper before the herds had been driven along the trails to northern depots. With railroads crisscrossing the country now, and with the savings made at purchasing time, the meat houses could afford to ship their beeves north by rail and have them arrive in prime condition, where they could command high prices.
It was a practice encouraged by Governor Dukes and because of this fact, Yancey could see an inherent danger in what Chuck proposed, or what had been proposed, for Sundance to do as the final part of his assignment.
He was to move into Bodie and meet up with a bunch of hardcases already gathering there, under a man known as Lansing. He was a gunfighter and troublemaker who turned up in all odd corners of the country from time to time, usually where range wars were raging or a paid killer was needed. With Sundance taking over as leader, this tough bunch aimed to ride through the cattle country, using Bodie as a hub, and tear it apart. They would deliberately start range wars, rustle beef, stampede herds into rivers and bogs and off cliffs, leaving sign that renegade Indians or neighboring ranchers had been responsible. They aimed to work on the cowpokes themselves in the trail towns, beat them up, cripple them if need be, until men got the message that it didn’t pay to stick around. Ranches would then be short-handed and beeves would remain on the range to roam wild because there wouldn’t be sufficient cowboys to round them up and bring them in for market. Those who did start out for market, namely Bodie, would never reach it. They would be ambushed along the trail or the camps would be attacked at night and the steers run off. Again, sign would be left to indicate that the deed had been done by renegade Indian bucks, fired up with cheap snake-juice.
All in all, the cattle country around Bodie would be a small corner of hell and, of course, all this trouble would totally disrupt the beef market.
The time would then be ripe to move in cheap Mexican beef from the Gulf ports and it would be snatched up by the waiting buyers. It would be a long, long time before Texas beef came back onto the market and when it did, it could not hope to compete with the prices of the Mexican steers brought in by boat.
Chuck admitted that it might not be ethical, but, by Godfrey, it would sure turn a fast buck and fill his and a lot of other pockets.
“Including C.B.’s, Yance,” he concluded. “And that’s what he sent me out here for in the first place: to make money for him.”
Yancey looked at his brother coldly. “Instead, you aimed to make a heap of money for yourself.”
“Hell, you know why! You know how he treats me. Like a kid. Damn near doles out pocket money to me!”
Yancey’s eyes bored into him across the small fire. “We all know why he does that, too.”
Chuck flushed. “Hell, he ain’t had to square any gambling debts for me for a long time now. But he still don’t trust me to handle money of my own!”
“Wonder he trusts you to handle someone else’s money, then,” Cato opined.
“He sent it all via bank drafts and so on,” Chuck said bitterly. “That’s why I had to make my own deal with the officials down here. They’re always looking for ways to line their own pockets and they could see how a lot of gold would rub off on them if we could use the land and get the steers for practically nothing.”
“Even if it meant a deal of killing,” Yancey said tightly.
Chuck moved uneasily. “Well, if they resisted, I guess there would have been gunplay. Even so, Yancey, we could’ve been doin’ some of those peons a favor. You’ve seen how they live under those corrupt officials.”
“They’re corrupt because men like you come along, Chuck,” Yancey pointed out flatly. “But to hell with that part of the deal. It’s blown now. The Texas stuff is still to come. And you don’t see a hell of a lot wrong in that, either, I s’pose.”
Chuck didn’t look at his brother. “Well, I wasn’t to be involved, really, Yance. I mean, I’d’ve been in Texas, sure, but not in on the wild part.”
Yancey continued to look at his brother and Chuck found it unnerving. He sat there, tensed, watching Yancey and Cato exchange glances, then he frowned. There was something passing between them that he couldn’t savvy.
“C.B. knew nothing about the Texas side of things, I guess; creating the beef shortage so there’d be a ready market for his Mexican cattle?” Yancey asked.
Chuck hesitated, then shook his head swiftly. “No. That was arranged between the governmentas, me and Sundance. The governmentas, apparently, had had dealings with Lansing before and he organized the bunch Sundance was to lead in Bodie.”
“They know Sundance?” Yancey asked swiftly.
Chuck shook his head. “Not from what I gather. He said once in a letter that he hoped there wouldn’t be any trouble when a stranger took over, so I guess that meant he didn’t know them.”
Yancey nodded and Cato scrubbed a hand down his jaw, looking wary. “Bit chancy, Yance,” he said.
Yancey grunted, but he was still looking at his brother. “You could’ve put C.B. on more of a spot than you know, Chuck. I don’t like the sound of that Texas part of the deal at all. It could easily be turned around to point the finger at C.B. and for his enemies to show him up as a ruthless go-getter, wanting to build up his financial empire at any cost.”
Chuck looked startled at the suggestion. “But he wouldn’t have anything to do with it. He wouldn’t even be connected with it.”
Yancey snorted. “You’re a bigger fool than I figured, Chuck. You reckon one of those governmentas wouldn’t swear it was all C.B.’s idea from the start? For a few extra pesos, they’d swear their own mothers were in back of it. You’ve put the old man in one hell of a spot, mister, not to mention the State of Texas itself!”
Chuck was silent for a long time, then he shrugged helplessly. “It seemed like too good an opportunity to pass up.”
“And I guess that about sums things up where you’re concerned,” Yancey said tightly, though without bitterness now. He knew Chuck couldn’t help himself and there was just a chance
that some of the damage could be undone, or prevented. A chance. “It’s no damn excuse,” Yancey continued, “and I’m gonna see that Governor Dukes gets to hear of your part in this. And you can square up to dad afterwards. Don’t think he’ll get off Scot-free, either. He’s tampering with the Texas economy and Dukes won’t stand still for that. If the scheme had gone ahead just as it was planned, it would still amount to manipulation of the beef market and no one can get away with that.”
“Hell, you know C.B. and hundreds of other financiers manipulate markets every day of their lives, Yance!”
“And that makes it right?”
“Dunno about that, but it’s part of life.”
“Not mine,” Yancey said firmly. “I quit that long ago; it’s one of the reasons why I did quit. I can’t stand still for this, any more than Dukes can.”
“You ain’t thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’ you’re thinkin’ I hope!” Cato said.
Yancey met and held his gaze. “There’s no other way of finding out who they all are, Johnny.”
“You’ll get your damn fool head blowed off! Just because Lansing maybe doesn’t know Sundance, doesn’t mean there won’t be one of them hardcases who does. You’d be a dead man the moment they realized you weren’t the real Sundance.”
“Same sort of deal I’ve had all along,” Yancey pointed out simply. “Yeah, more than ever we’ve got to get back to Texas now, Johnny, so I can move into Bodie as Sundance and nail this bunch.” He glanced at his pale-faced brother. “And you’re coming along, Chuck.”
“Me! For hell’s sake, why?”
“Because I figure you deserve it,” Yancey told him in a tone that brooked no argument. “You’re gonna identify yourself and swear to the whole damn country if need be, that I’m Sundance.” He prodded Chuck’s shoulder with a rigid finger. “That way you might—just might—get yourself off the hook.”
Chuck swallowed. “I guess I don’t have any choice.”
“That’s right. You don’t. You’re our prisoner now, Chuck. So don’t forget it. You try to run and you’ll be shot down like any other prisoner.”
Chuck’s face was a study in incredulity. Then he hissed through his nose as he forced a laugh. “You’re kidding!”
But the half-smile on his face faded slowly as he looked into the cold, unrelenting eyes of the two Enforcers. He swallowed, knowing Yancey had been deadly serious.
~*~
Nearing the far northern edge of the desert, they spotted the two clouds of dust, one coming in from either side, and they knew the governmentas had had men waiting up here for them to show. This was why they hadn’t been unduly bothered by the pursuers, whose dust hadn’t seemed to draw any closer over the last couple of days.
“Here's where you get back your guns for a spell, Chuck,” Yancey told his brother, unsheathing one of the Mauser rifles and handing it to him with crossed bandoliers of cartridges. “It’s in your own interests to bring down as many as you can. They won’t give any quarter and there’ll be no time for explanations.”
Chuck took the rifle and ammunition sullenly, knowing he had to fight tor his life right alongside Yancey and Cato. His death would have been ordered along with theirs, after what had happened down at the rancho.
It was about mid-afternoon when the Mexicans closed the gap to within gunshot range. It was a long gunshot range but the Mexicans began firing anyway. The trio of gringos did not see or hear the bullets, but they heard the sharp reports of the rifles and knew the men were eager for blood. Likely they had been promised a few pesos for killing the gringos.
Within thirty minutes, they were much closer and they could make out the individual riders. They counted seven coming in from the west and nine from the northeast. They were hard-bitten bandidos and vaqueros and were not worried about spilling a little gringo blood, especially if they were going to be paid for doing it. And judging by the reckless way they rode in, Yancey figured they had been offered a considerable sum to shoot them down.
The trio were still riding, figuring it was better to get even a few yards closer to the Rio than to try to hole-up in this desert where the Mexicans could besiege them while they sent for reinforcements, or simply waited for heat, thirst and hunger to finish them off. Chuck kept between Yancey and Cato, face gray now under the layer of dust, his eyes worried. The two Enforcers kept their own faces blank but this didn’t mean that they, too, weren’t worried. They had been in a lot worse situations, but that didn’t mean this would be an easy one to get out of.
There was a depression in the desert slightly to their left and ahead. Yancey spotted it and pointed silently. Cato nodded. If they could beat the smaller band of Mexicans down there, they would have the riders sky-lined whenever they tried to attack. It would mean stopping temporarily, but, with luck, they wouldn’t even have to dismount and, if they made their fire count, they could rid themselves of one of the groups of killers in a few minutes.
Chuck thought they were mad when they turned towards the depression. “They’ll pick us off like fish in a barrel!” he complained.
“Not if we don’t stop for long. And don’t get off your mount, no matter what!” Yancey yelled into the teeth of the furnace wind that blew across the desert. “Just do what Johnny and I do and we’ll get out of this. You foul up, you’re on your own, Chuck. We can’t spend the time to get you out of trouble.”
That was good enough for Chuck. He drove his mount on and he aimed to keep right alongside Yancey and Cato. They had had more experience at this kind of thing than he had. Even if their maneuvers seemed loco, he would go along with them.
The smaller band of Mexicans saw where they were headed and raked at their racing mounts with gut-hook rowels, trying to head them off. Then their leader apparently figured the same way as Chuck had: Let the gringos get down into that depression and they could pin them down and pick them off at their leisure. He signaled to his men to allow the three to ride down into the depression. Yancey and his pards took full advantage of it. They urged their sweating, lathered mounts on and dropped over the rim down into the shallow saucer. Almost immediately they heard the wild yells of the Mexicans as they surged forward. Timing was important here. If they delayed for too long, even if they managed to wipe out the smaller band, the second bunch could well arrive and keep them pinned down in the saucer before they had a chance to ride out the far side. Yancey hoped the other bunch of nine men would not reach them before they were able to get out. Otherwise, the saucer could turn out to be their grave.
As soon as they hit the bottom of the slope, Yancey and Cato whirled their mounts, hauling rein one-handed while they lifted cocked Winchesters to their shoulders with the other. Chuck skidded his horse to a halt, fumbled up the Mauser and worked the bolt. By that time, the band of Mexicans had reached the saucer’s lip. They were strung out in a line, close together, teeth bared in anticipatory grins as they edged their horses onto the downward slope.
They were surprised to see the trio had stopped to face them and only the leader knew why, but his reactions were too slow. The Winchesters hammered and he was blown clear out of the saddle along with two of his men as Yancey and Cato levered swiftly and poured out shot after shot. Chuck aimed more carefully and the Mauser cracked thinly in comparison to the heavy loads of the other rifles. He worked the bolt laboriously as he watched the man he had shot tumbling and rolling down the slope. The remaining Mexicans tried to get off return fire and wheel their mounts and get back from the rim all at the same time. The riderless mounts of the men already hit cannoned into them and, for a moment, there was whirling, dust-clouded chaos up there on the rim. The Winchesters continued to pour their withering fire into the dust cloud and horses whickered, squealed and plunged and men were thrown out of the saddles onto the slope. Those who tried to regain their feet were shot down and in less than a minute, the rim was empty except for a drifting dust cloud. Five bodies littered the inward slope of the saucer and one hung over the broken rim with an arm dangling
lifelessly. The seventh man was nowhere to be seen but nobody had ridden away so likely he was sprawled somewhere beyond the rim, where they couldn’t see him.
Yancey and Cato reloaded the smoking Winchesters swiftly but Chuck had trouble pushing the foreign cartridges into the Mauser’s box magazine. Cato helped him and by that time the second bunch of Mexicans had arrived on the rim, just as the gringos turned and started galloping across the bottom of the saucer. Guns hammered from the rim and lead whined and buzzed around them, kicking up dust only inches from their horses’ hoofs.
Yancey heard the wild yells and the rapid, screaming Spanish. He glanced back and up, seeing the bearded leader flinging his arms about wildly, dispatching his men around the rim in a hard-riding single line, aiming to head them off on the far side.
Yancey reined down abruptly and wheeled his mount. Cato followed suit almost instantly, but Chuck had galloped on several yards before he puzzledly executed the maneuver. Yancey and Cato were riding back the way they had just come. Chuck frowned but spurred his mount after them as lead whipped past his face. He glanced up to see the wild-eyed leader screaming for his men to come back. But they were riding like the wind and had been given their orders and did not hear him. Yancey threw his Winchester to his shoulder and fired two fast shots. The Mexican seemed to lift to his toes in his huge stirrups, then he clawed at his chest and pitched sideways. Yancey held the rifle one-handed as he flogged, spurred and cussed his mount back up the slope, weaving through the bodies of the men they had shot only minutes previously. Chuck could see his plan now: The Mexican had sent his men racing for the far rim of the saucer where he had figured Yancey and Cato would emerge. And they had backtracked, coming up and out of the saucer only a few yards from where they had first entered. Now, they had the whole saucer between them and the other bandits.
By the time the Mexicans realized this, Yancey was leading Cato and Chuck in headlong flight over the rim and out across the desert in a slanting run for the northwest where the distant Rio lay, hidden from sight by the high walls of the river canyons.
Bannerman the Enforcer 8 Page 10
