Vigilante Dawn

by Ralph Compton

  “Still trying to get that courier route cinched in?”

  “Yeah. It’s been coming along well too. All I needed was to shake a few important hands a bit farther west and I’d get exclusive transport contracts from two good-sized merchants.”

  “Not bad for a two-man operation,” Jarrett mused.

  “Learned from the best, big brother.”

  When Jarrett felt a grin slide across his face, he reflexively lowered his head and kept himself from making a sound. It was never a good idea to let the youngest child get too full of himself.

  “Anyway,” Norris continued, “I met one of those bastards while I was in Omaha.”

  “Which one?”

  “The skinny one. Clay Haskel.”

  “Never heard of him,” Jarrett said, mostly as a way of thinking out loud.

  “Neither had I. He introduced himself as another courier. More like a messenger actually. Carrying letters and such in between businesses who want something faster than the post office.”

  “Someone should tell them about the telegraph. Hell of a wondrous invention.”

  “Also requires someone to send and receive the messages,” Norris pointed out. “There’s no foolproof way of knowing if the man on the other end of that wire can be fully trusted or not.”

  “Ah,” Jarrett sighed. “I see you’re talking about something other than shipping manifests or conversational letters.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Is that the sort of business you’re in now? There’s a lot of money to be made in catering to rich men who have secrets to keep.”

  “All rich men have secrets to keep,” Norris replied. “That being the case, I’m not interested in helping them with their dirty laundry. All that would really do is help them get richer.”

  Jarrett chuckled while shifting his weight. “Sounds like something Pa would have said.”

  “Believe it or not, he passed on a thing or two to someone other than you. I had to wait until after you left home to get it, but it was still there.” As Norris continued speaking, his voice sounded even more relaxed. “I didn’t think much of it when I met Clay in Omaha. A few days after we left to keep moving west, I ran into him again. It was near a little hole of a town where we stopped for supplies. He tipped his hat and that was it.”

  “Sounds innocent enough.”

  “Yeah . . . well . . . it wasn’t. The next day, he and that other one caught up to us while we were on a long stretch of nothing in western Nebraska.”

  “Sounds like most of western Nebraska,” Jarrett said.

  “Scott was out on his own horse. He’d been champing at the bit to scout ahead. I saw him farther up the trail and there was another man on a horse right next to him. Clay told me in no uncertain terms that all he needed to do was give a signal to that man and he’d shoot my boy.”

  Jarrett stewed in the darkness, clenching his fists until he felt his fingernails dig deep into his palms.

  “At first, I just thought he was robbing us,” Norris continued. “Then he started asking me about where I was going. Somehow he knew about you already. Damned if I know how. Perhaps he asked one of the men I stopped in to see along the way.”

  “Could have been,” Jarrett said. “I’ve done business with plenty of folks out that way.”

  “Well, it became obvious that he wasn’t out to rob us. Him and that other one made themselves comfortable with me and the family and forced us to keep heading here.”

  “Did you try to get away from them?”

  “Of course I did!” Norris snapped. “I’m not still some little child anymore, you know.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “I know. Sorry. I tried. Jen tried. Hell, even the kids tried, but if one of us slipped too far away, another one of us was rounded up and . . .”

  “And what?” Jarrett asked, even though he wasn’t completely certain he wanted to know the answer.

  “Let’s just say it was unpleasant enough to make a point and loud enough for that point to be delivered. And before you ask, they didn’t touch Grace or Jen. Not in that way. It was perfectly clear that simply running wasn’t an option unless all of us could go and be real quick about it. Anything less and we’d get hurt. I took a few beatings, but that didn’t bother me much. I suppose that’s one thing growing up with you as a big brother was good for. Gave me a real tough hide.”

  “Well, someone had to toughen you up,” Jarrett said. “Are your hands and feet tied?”

  “No, Jarrett. I’m just sitting here because I like this cellar,” Norris said. “And before you ask the next brilliant question, the answer is yes. I have been trying to pull loose.”

  “What I meant to ask was if you’re tied to anything.”

  “Hang on,” Norris said as he started grunting with effort. “Trying to . . . reach back . . . and feel.”

  While his brother did that, Jarrett continued gathering whatever bits of information he could in regard to his own situation. He’d been tugging and pulling his arms and legs to get an idea of how secure his bindings were. He didn’t have to wriggle very much before reaching the limit of his range.

  “Think I’m tied to a post,” Norris finally said.

  “Don’t you remember being tied to one? Those two must have had a lantern with them when they brought us down here.”

  “I recall getting my wrists tied after making the rounds over every damn inch of this property.”

  “So do I.”

  “Then I remember Dave making some remark about Jen. After that . . .”

  “Right,” Jarrett said. “After that is when you told him exactly what you thought of him . . . what you thought of both of them, in fact. That’s when you were knocked on the back of the head.”

  Norris let out a prolonged sigh. “That explains the fresh ache in my skull. To be honest, I’ve been knocked back there so many times lately that I’ve almost stopped noticing. That’s how those killers would put us to sleep every night before we arrived here. Been having headaches every minute of every day. Forgetting simple things. That doesn’t explain why you can’t remember being dragged down here, though.”

  “I was knocked out too,” Jarrett said. “Not long after you, in fact.”

  “What for?”

  “For trying to make them two pay for putting you down.”

  “Really?” Norris asked. “That’s touching . . . in an odd sort of way.”

  “What are brothers for? I just came around a little bit ago. Been sitting here catching my breath for a spell.”

  “I’ve been awake for a while too. But while you were resting, I was listening for footsteps, voices, anything to let me know what those men are doing up in the house or how many of them there are.”

  “What’d you figure out?” Jarrett asked.

  “Sounded like they were arguing about something earlier.”

  “About what?”

  “Don’t know,” Norris said. “I’d guess one of them was angry with Clay, and it wasn’t Dave. It was someone else’s voice.”

  “Could be the man with the rifle.”

  “There’s more than one rifleman.”

  “That’s what Clay told us,” Jarrett said. “That doesn’t make it so.”

  “Well, whoever it was stormed off and the others have been talking about him ever since.”

  “What have they been saying?”

  “I can’t tell,” Norris replied. “I couldn’t hear much through this floor. Whatever it was, I’d say it’s something that might point to a fight brewing between those men.”

  Rather than take credit for building such a sturdy and solid house, Jarrett asked, “How could you tell so much if you couldn’t hear exactly what was being said?”

  “When you’ve grown up with the big brother and sister I had, you get real good at h
iding in dark places and listening to how the tides are turning in the outside world.”

  “I suppose so. About that—”

  “Stop right there,” Norris cut in.

  “Why?”

  “You were about to apologize. I can tell. There’s no need for it. I was lucky to have you two for a brother and sister.”

  “I suppose we all turned out fairly well. As good as can be expected anyway.” Jarrett smiled again. “How many of them did you count?”

  “More than two.”

  “That’s helpful.”

  “So what now?” Norris asked.

  “We keep trying to get loose and listen for something that may be even more helpful.”

  “Those men are here for a reason. If they’d just wanted to take whatever money I had or even if they’d wanted my herd, they could have taken it and been on their way by now.”

  “Not necessarily,” Jarrett said. “A herd isn’t something you just pick up and carry off. It takes men who know what they’re doing, supplies for a long ride, and a buyer at the other end. They could very well have had the last one lined up before Clay played his hand, but the rest requires some time.”

  “With us tied up and them roaming this place like they owned it, I’d say they’ve got plenty of time to do whatever they please.”

  “We’ll just have to see what we can do about that.” Now that he’d been awake for a bit longer, Jarrett had a lot more of his wits about him. The more breaths he took, the harder he was able to strain against the ropes binding his wrists. The more he strained, the deeper those ropes cut into his flesh. The deeper they cut, the more it hurt, and the more it hurt, the sharper his thoughts became.

  Just as Jarrett’s mind was becoming so focused that he nearly forgot about anything other than the ropes sawing through his wrists, Norris asked, “So, what was funny?”

  “Huh?”

  “When you first started talking, you mentioned something being funny. What was it?”

  Grateful for any excuse to stop struggling for a moment or two, Jarrett said, “Oh, right. When I was riding out to greet you as you first arrived, I was thinking how the sun here in Wyoming felt different from the sun anywhere else. I was grateful that, no matter how bad things got, I would always have that simple pleasure. And now here we are, locked up in the dark.”

  Silence.

  “Isn’t that kind of funny?” Jarrett asked.

  “No,” his bother said drily. “How about we just stay quiet for a spell?”

  Chapter 6

  Whoever had tied those knots sure knew what they were doing. No matter how much Jarrett struggled, all he had to show for it was bloody wrists and sore ankles. Norris had taken to pulling against the post to which he was tied, creating a muffled thumping sound that slowly faded into the back of Jarrett’s mind.

  After what could have been hours or the better part of a day, the door to the cellar creaked open and a small bit of flickering light spilled into the cramped space beneath the house. The sputtering little candle flame that was carried down there was enough to strain Jarrett’s eyes as though he’d been staring up at the sun that had so recently drifted into the conversation between him and his brother.

  “How you boys doin’ down here?” Clay asked once he reached the bottom of the steep stairs leading to the dirt floor.

  Norris was quick to respond. “Why don’t you cut these ropes so I can show you firsthand?”

  “That’s quite all right. Just thought I’d poke my head down here to see if you’d like anything.”

  “I’d like to know what you want here,” Jarrett said.

  “Didn’t I just tell you?” Clay replied with a chuckle.

  “Whatever you’re looking for, I can help you find it. This is my ranch, after all. If you’ve been trying to get anything from my men, I can make your job a whole lot easier. They’re good men, but they don’t know where the money is kept.”

  Clay held a candle in one hand and kept the other resting on the grip of his holstered pistol. “You sure are fascinated with all this money you’re supposed to have,” he said while stepping behind the post where Norris was tied. Every move he made shifted the flickering light source in his hand to make shadows dance across barrels of sugar, stacks of spare lumber, and a row of shovels propped against one wall. “It’s all you keep going on about. Suppose that should be expected from a successful businessman like yourself.”

  “Spare me the sweet talk,” Jarrett said. “Just get me and my brother out of this damn cellar.”

  “You hungry?” Clay asked in a purposely slower manner. “You need something to drink?”

  “How about a trip to the outhouse?” Norris asked.

  Hunkering down to his level, Clay replied, “Not just yet.”

  When Norris lunged forward at him, Clay didn’t even flinch. Knowing exactly how far his prisoner could go, he’d placed himself just a few inches beyond that range so he could watch the ill-fated attempt to lash out.

  “You finished?” Clay asked after Norris allowed himself to slump backward again.

  “Not even close,” Norris replied.

  Clay nodded smugly and then turned toward Jarrett. “You’re coming with me.”

  “Gonna have to cut me loose first,” Jarrett replied.

  “Dave!”

  Responding like an obedient dog, Dave hurried down the stairs when he was called. Without another order given, he circled around behind Jarrett’s back and sliced the ropes securing him to the post. Half a second later, Jarrett felt a rough hand grab him by the collar to haul him to his feet. He’d barely gotten his balance when the same knife that had cut his ropes pressed against his throat.

  “Do I gotta tell you what happens if you decide to play the hero again?” Clay asked.

  “No,” Jarrett said. Even the subtle shake of his head was enough to drag his neck back and forth against the blade. No blood was drawn, but it wouldn’t take much for that to change.

  “All right, then. Bring him up.”

  When Jarrett felt a shove from Dave, the blade at his throat was drawn in just a little tighter. Turning only his eyes to look at his brother, he said, “Remember what we talked about.”

  “I will,” Norris replied. “Watch yourself.”

  Before Jarrett could say anything else, he was being forced up the stairs. The fresh air felt good against his face, and the inky black sky was a comfort to eyes that had been in darkness for so long. Even though Jarrett was well aware that he’d lost track of time, it felt a lot later than he’d anticipated. There was a cool dampness to the wind that brushed against his cheek, which spoke of the hours just before dawn.

  Clay walked a couple of paces ahead of them. As soon as he’d emerged from the double doors built into the ground that led into the cellar, he circled back around toward the house in an easy stride. “Remember them offers you made?” he asked. “In regards to the money.”

  “I don’t have much,” Jarrett said.

  “From the way you were talking before, it seemed like you’ve got plenty. Considering the bind your family’s in, now ain’t exactly the time to change your story.”

  “I do have money here. It’s just not enough to warrant all of this.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that. Where is it?” Clay asked.

  “In the house. I’ve got an office on the first floor.”

  “We been there,” Dave snarled from directly behind him. “Didn’t find no money.”

  “It wouldn’t exactly be safe if it was out in the open, now, would it?” Jarrett sneered.

  “No,” Clay said from the front of the short procession. “It sure wouldn’t.”

  They were inside the house by now. Before they took more than three steps through the front door, Jarrett could tell the gunmen had been busy. Tables were overturned. Chairs were broken. Even the few
pictures he’d gathered had been ripped off the walls. Considering how little he and Norris had heard from the cellar, most of that damage had to have been done when they were both still unconscious.

  It was a short walk down a hall that led the three of them to Jarrett’s office. At least, it had once been an office before the room was turned upside down by careless hands. The only thing in there that wasn’t tossed onto the floor or overturned was the desk, and that was only because the piece of furniture was too heavy to be moved more than an inch or two from the spot it had been in since the house was built. Jarrett was shoved roughly forward and released from Dave’s grip, only to stumble over a pile of ledgers.

  “Time to get that money you’ve been promising,” Clay said.

  Dave was quick to add, “And it had better be enough to keep us from goin’ upstairs to finish what we started with them two womenfolk.”

  “What did you start with them?” Jarrett asked.

  “Shut up and do what ye’re told!” Dave said.

  “One of them is just a girl, for Pete’s sake!”

  Stepping forward to grab his partner by the shoulder and roughly pull him away from Jarrett, Clay said, “They’re both fine. You have my word.”

  “That doesn’t mean a damn thing to me,” Jarrett snarled. “I want to see them.”

  “You will. After we have the money.”

  “No. I want to see that they’re all right or you might as well shoot me right now before you get one cent of that money.”

  Dave drew his .45. “Don’t tempt me,” he spat.

  “You want to see the women?” Clay asked. “Fine. Tell Dave where to look for the money so he can get it while I take you upstairs.”

  “It’s in the desk.”

  “I already looked in the desk!” Dave roared.

  “Look again.”

  Dave slammed a fist against the solid desk and stalked around it as if the mass of polished wood were one giant egg that needed to be cracked. As he yanked at each drawer in turn, the gunman grumbled a steady line of obscenities to himself.