Wanted McBain

by I. J. Parnham

  He smiled and replaced the lid. When Spenser joined him in sitting beside the crate, Weston shook the reins.

  At a steadier pace, they headed north.

  ‘Is it in there?’ Spenser asked.

  ‘The gold is under the furs, like Isaac said.’

  At the front of the cart, Weston snorted.

  ‘Good.’ Spenser frowned. ‘Is Devine as good as Hearst reckons?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Nat said. ‘You’ll need to put as much distance between you and him as possible.’

  ‘ We need to, you mean.’

  ‘Nope, just you. I’m going back. That’s what I promised Cassidy.’

  ‘What about your promises to me?’

  ‘I said I’d deliver on all my promises, and I will. I’ve ensured Fernandez gets justice, like I promised Cassidy. I’ve helped you get the gold, like I promised you. When I’m sure you’ve escaped, I’ll turn myself in.’

  ‘Like you promised both of us, but you helped me raid this gold.’ Spenser sighed. ‘For that, you’ll get life.’

  Nat shrugged. ‘I don’t think so. You’ll have the gold, not me, and I reckon Isaac won’t want too many people knowing he entrusted that much gold to an old-timer and a smelly crate and then told two bounty hunters about his plan. He’ll downplay the incident, and with me giving myself in, I reckon I’ll just get the five years I thought I’d get.’

  ‘I guess so.’ Spenser patted Nat’s back. Then he firmed his jaw and looked back down the trail. ‘Don’t worry yourself in jail. When you find me, I won’t have spent your share.’

  ‘I know. You’ve given your word.’

  Spenser rolled to his haunches and peered around.

  ‘How far are we going until you leave?’

  Nat glanced over his shoulder, seeing nothing but the deserted trail behind, although a dust cloud on the horizon drew his gaze.

  Nat narrowed his eyes, watching the cloud spread, although as yet, he saw no hint that it was anything but dust. He leaned forward and pointed at the cloud, but then a distant rifle shot sounded, forcing Nat to swirl round and order Weston to speed.

  Spenser joined Nat in narrowing his eyes and peering at the cloud, which even as they watched resolved into a row of riders. Their forms were distant, but from the huge amount of dust they were throwing up, they had to be galloping down the trail and heading straight for them.

  ‘To answer your question, it isn’t any time soon,’ Nat said.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Cassidy slowed his horse to a trot.

  Fifty yards ahead, Hearst was shuffling down the trail, his back bowed and his gait slow. Cassidy hollered on ahead, forcing Hearst to turn and watch him approach.

  ‘I’m mighty pleased to see you,’ Hearst said. A huge smile emerged. ‘Did you apologize to Ballard?’

  ‘Nope.’ Cassidy halted his horse. ‘But I’m not so pleased to see you. I thought you were searching for Nathaniel and Spenser.’

  ‘Found them, got double-crossed by them. That’s why I’m walking. The sooner you start believing that Nathaniel . . .’ – Hearst snorted – ‘Nat isn’t to be trusted, we’ll both stop getting tricked so often.’

  ‘You must have misunderstood what—’

  ‘No misunderstanding. Nat thrust a gun in my back and abandoned me on the trail.’

  Cassidy sighed and held out a hand to Hearst.

  ‘Anyhow, we’ll have to ride double.’

  ‘Yeah, but it might not be for long. Nat said he left my horse another half-mile down the trail, if you can believe that.’

  ‘You can, and that just proves who he is. No outlaw would do that.’

  ‘Nat did, but it won’t help him none.’ Hearst took Cassidy’s hand and with his help, swung up on to the back of Cassidy’s horse. ‘Five minutes ago, Sheriff Ballard and a whole heap of deputies galloped by. From the way Ballard was smirking, it didn’t look like he was in the mood for Nat’s stories.’

  Cassidy winced and hurried his horse on ahead.

  * * *

  ‘They’re closing,’ Spenser shouted.

  ‘Go faster,’ Nat said, swirling round to confront Weston. ‘I let you drive this cart because you had more experience. Show it!’

  ‘No matter how much experience I’ve got,’ Weston said, ‘we’ll never outrun those riders in the open plains.’

  ‘Then head for cover and we’ll make a stand.’

  Weston glanced around, his gaze washing over the barren wilderness.

  ‘What cover?’

  Nat winced. ‘Then keep going until we do find some.’

  Another glance over his shoulder convinced Nat that the horses were closing and that Sheriff Ballard led the group, presumably of deputies.

  Seemingly with every turn of the wheels, Ballard drew closer, but as the deputies held their fire, Spenser shuffled closer to Nat.

  ‘You’ve got a decision to make,’ he said. ‘Are we firing?’

  ‘We return fire to defend ourselves,’ Nat said. ‘We don’t start no gunfight.’

  ‘I hope you know what you’re doing.’

  Nat narrowed his eyes, confirming that Ballard was gaining fast. He looked over his shoulder at Weston’s horses to see that they were galloping, but they weren’t straining.

  He winced and shuffled to the front of the cart. Then he vaulted into the seat alongside Weston.

  ‘Speed up!’ he roared.

  ‘I’m going as fast as I can,’ Weston said, shaking the reins with a crack of his bony arms.

  ‘You’re not. You’re making a big show of going fast, but your horses aren’t straining.’ Nat slapped a hand on Weston’s arm. ‘Whose side are you on?’

  Weston turned to Nat. He licked his lips and glared at Nat’s hand.

  ‘I guess that depends on whether you’re coming peacefully.’

  ‘I’m not giving in, Weston.’

  Weston smiled. ‘That’s Deputy Weston to you.’

  Then, in a lithe action, Weston dropped the reins and hurled a wild blow at Nat’s head. Nat ducked the blow, but with the reins dangling free, the horses slowed with every pace.

  Nat lunged for the reins, but Weston grabbed him in a neck-hold and they fell back against the seat, the action tumbling them into the back of the cart.

  Spenser moved to help Nat, but Nat shook his head and, seeing his concern, Spenser leapt into the seat and seized the reins.

  On their knees, Nat and Weston rocked back and forth. Then Weston tightened his grip of Nat’s neck and, with surprising strength, tugged him down, so Nat grabbed Weston’s arm, halting his progress and prized it from his neck. Grunting from the effort, Nat pushed him away.

  Weston rocked back on his haunches, but then rolled forward and hurled a round-armed blow at Nat’s head.

  Nat ducked the blow and when he came up, he slugged Weston’s jaw with a sharp uppercut that snapped his head back, and a longer blow to the cheek that knocked him on his back. Then he jumped to his feet and swirled round.

  Even though Spenser had now taken the reins and was speeding the horses, Ballard and his deputies were within fifty yards of flanking them.

  A heavy blow smashed into Nat’s back, slamming his head into the crate. Nat grunted and pushed himself back, but Weston grabbed a firm grip of the back of his head and mashed his face into the wood.

  Nat waved his arms, floundering as he searched for some part of Weston’s body to grab, but his grasp closed on air. Then he stamped back, and his flailing boot crunched into Weston’s foot.

  Weston screeched and his grip loosened, letting Nat swirl round, but even as he pushed Weston away, Ballard’s deputies hurried on to the flank the cart.

  One deputy swung in and leapt on to the back of the cart, landing on his feet before his sideways momentum rolled him on to his side.

  As the deputy struggled to regain his stance, Nat jumped over one of the ropes that secured the crate to reach the man’s side. Using both hands, he grabbed a firm grip of the deputy’s arm and shoulder, and then
flung him from the back of the cart.

  As the man tumbled away, another deputy leapt on to the cart behind Nat and as Nat swirled round to face him, this man righted himself and seized Nat in a neck-hold from behind. With a firm lunge, he thrust Nat’s arms high.

  Nat kicked back, aiming to stamp on the deputy’s foot, but the deputy had his feet set firm and avoided the blow.

  With a solid thrust of his boot in the back of Nat’s knee, the deputy pushed Nat to his knees and tried to force him on to his belly.

  Nat flexed his back and sat tall, but it was only to face Weston, who rolled to his feet and advanced on Nat with a fist raised.

  Weston hurled back a fist, ready to punch Nat in the stomach, so Nat thrust his head down, throwing the deputy over his shoulder and bundling him into Weston.

  Both deputies landed heavily, their limbs entangled as they rolled over each other, but they extricated themselves and advanced on Nat with their hands raised ready for a joint action to capture him.

  Nat backed away. The two deputies closed on him, blocking his route in either direction, so Nat slapped a hand on the crate and vaulted over the side.

  He landed on his feet on the other side, but it was only to face another deputy, who had leapt on to the cart, and this man slugged his jaw.

  Nat shrugged off the blow, but Weston dashed around the side of the crate to confront him. Nat backed away and walked into the other deputy who emerged from the other end of the crate. This man locked both hands together and crashed them down on the back of Nat’s shoulders, tumbling him down.

  As Nat floundered on the bottom of the cart, all three deputies leapt on him and with rough hands, pinned him down.

  Through the tangle of arms and legs, Nat saw that another deputy had joined Spenser on the seat and had wrested the reins from his grasp to slow the cart.

  For his part, Spenser had his hands held high, a row of gun-wielding deputies who were now flanking the cart having him in their sights.

  Then the cart lurched to a halt and, to a barked order from Ballard, the bodies on Nat lifted.

  Nat shrugged himself clear, ready to leap to his feet and make a last stand, but by the back of the cart, Sheriff Ballard had aimed his Peacemaker at his head, his gaze and arm firm.

  Nat glanced over his shoulder to see two deputies were leading Spenser around the side of the cart. Nat slumped and let the deputies on the cart drag him to his feet. Rough hands gripped his arms and pulled him to the ground to stand alongside Spenser.

  ‘So you’re the outlaw Nathaniel McBain?’ Ballard said, grinning.

  ‘Nat McBain.’

  ‘Whatever your name, you’re ending up in the same place.’

  ‘Don’t waste your time on us,’ Nat said, raising his head. ‘We’ve got information on Rodrigo Fernandez, but it’s only good for another hour, maybe less. Then you’ll never get him.’

  ‘I don’t need your information to track down the likes of him.’

  Ballard swaggered away, leaving his deputies to search Nat and Spenser and handcuff them.

  Spenser glanced at Nat, who shrugged.

  ‘I guess this will be rough,’ Nat said.

  Spenser nodded, but Weston turned him to face down the trail. He winced.

  ‘Yeah, but the next two minutes could be even worse for you.’ Spenser nodded ahead.

  At a gallop, two riders were approaching.

  Nat narrowed his eyes and then looked skyward.

  ‘Cassidy,’ he said.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Cassidy stopped twenty yards from the cart. He avoided looking directly at the bound Nat and Spenser, although from the corner of his eye, he could see that Nat had the grace to hang his head.

  ‘Am I welcome, Ballard?’ he said.

  ‘Yeah,’ Ballard said. He turned from his appraisal of his prisoners and spread his arms. ‘You can see what a successful lawman looks like before you head back to Morbid.’

  ‘Monotony.’

  Ballard pointed down the trail towards Bear Creek.

  ‘Either way, if you want more tips, come with me. I’ve got Fernandez and the rest of the worthless outlaws in my county to round up.’

  Cassidy took a deep breath. ‘Ballard, we’ve had our disagreements, but when a fellow lawman faces an outlaw like Fernandez, I’m prepared to put aside those differences so that Hearst and me can help you.’

  ‘Now, that’s mighty generous of you, but I’ll let you watch how a real lawman gets the job done. It might help you in Morbid.’

  Cassidy gritted his teeth. Then he and Hearst gave Ballard room to complete his arrangements for moving out.

  With Nat and Spenser held on the back of the cart with five deputies guarding them, they headed back towards Bear Creek. The deputies rode with calm precision, a tension in their stiff backs and quiet demeanor.

  This anticipation helped Cassidy to avoid looking at Nat, especially when there was nothing he could say to a friend who had obviously double-crossed him.

  Hearst had told Cassidy that Fernandez would be lying in wait in Deadman’s Gulch. So, as they approached the gulch, Cassidy joined Hearst in increasing his vigilance, peering at every rock that they passed, and listening and looking for any signals that might warn them about an approaching ambush.

  None of Ballard’s deputies showed any signs of looking for that ambush.

  At the edge of Deadman’s Gulch, Ballard halted everyone and called his deputies in for a discussion. He didn’t invite Cassidy.

  Just as they were disbanding, from ahead, gunfire sounded, the reports crisp and echoing down the gulch.

  Ballard glanced into the gulch and then ordered Nat and Spenser to jump down from the back of the cart. He let them mount horses, still handcuffed, and directed two deputies to escort his prisoners on the southern, and longer, route around the gulch.

  As Ballard clearly had no interest in using him in his attempt to arrest Fernandez, Cassidy offered to accompany them instead of the deputies, but Ballard refused the offer.

  Ballard ordered Deputy Weston to continue his abortive mission to drive the cart into Bear Creek, but ordered him and an accompanying deputy to use a longer route around the northern part of the gulch. Then, with the safety of the gold and his prisoners assured, Ballard led his deputies into Deadman’s Gulch.

  They galloped along, Ballard leading, and Cassidy and Hearst trailing.

  About a half-mile down the gulch, Ballard called everyone to a halt. Around the next bend in the gulch, sustained gunfire was blasting away, so Ballard sent a scout to investigate.

  At the back of the troop of deputies, Hearst and Cassidy had a terse discussion. Then Cassidy rode on ahead to join Ballard.

  ‘I know you’ve got no respect for me,’ he said, as he watched the scout crawl towards the last rock before the bend. ‘But I’ve got some ideas as to—’

  Ballard raised a hand. ‘That’s the first thing you’ve said that I’ve agreed with. I don’t have no respect for you, and I don’t need your help either. This situation is under control.’

  ‘There’s a gunfight ahead. I assume that Fernandez is ambushing another group of your deputies, and—’

  ‘It’s my deputies who are ambushing Fernandez.’ Ballard waggled a finger at Cassidy. ‘Watch and learn.’

  Cassidy sighed and backed his horse. As he joined Hearst, the scout returned and relayed his information to Ballard.

  From Ballard’s grin, Cassidy judged that everything was, in fact, under control.

  Ballard ordered his deputies to flank the sides of the gulch and take positions behind every spare bit of cover, ensuring that Cassidy and Hearst hid furthest from the gunfire.

  Ahead, the gunfire lessened, fading to sporadic bursts. Then it blasted out again. With every fresh volley, the noise grew louder, suggesting that the shooters were closing.

  Ballard waved at his deputies, relaying a silent order that Cassidy assumed told them to hold fire.

  Then a straggling line of riders galloped
around the bend, firing over their shoulders at assailants that Cassidy couldn’t see. Cassidy recognized the lead man as being Luther and two of the men behind him were men who had tried to kill him in the trading post.

  These men galloped through the phalanx of hidden deputes, but when Luther was halfway between the bend and Cassidy’s position, Ballard and his deputies bobbed up and blasted gunfire into them.

  In the first hail of gunfire, the leading five men all went down. The two that the deputies had only wounded rolled to their feet and scampered for cover, but they were dead before they reached it.

  The riders behind this group pulled back and bunched, prancing their horses round as they yelled at each other, debating whether to risk the gauntlet of steel or return and face the deputies behind them.

  Although they were out of easy firing range, Ballard ordered his men to harry them into panicking.

  As gunfire peppered the rocks around them, one rider headed up the side of the gulch. His mount protested at the steep climb and threw him for him to roll and flop to a halt at the gulch bottom. The rest, seeing his failure, galloped back down the gulch and around the bend.

  More gunfire blasted, then shouting echoed, then silence.

  Ballard stood, cupping his ear, and then gestured for his deputies to mount up and head after them.

  Cassidy returned his gun to its holster, having failed to fire a single shot, and followed.

  When he rounded the bend, a huddle of men was standing on the rocks around the gulch bottom with a smaller group below them. From the guns aimed at these men, and from the hunched way they stood, Cassidy surmised that Fernandez’s men had surrendered.

  From the splay of bodies that revealed themselves further down the gulch, these were the lucky ones.

  Ballard leapt down from his horse and embarked on a series of backslapping and handshakes. Then, while his deputies handcuffed the prisoners and herded them on to their horses, he checked on the dead outlaws, discovering that Fernandez was amongst the dead.