Bannerman the Enforcer 42

by Kirk Hamilton

  And it wasn’t that they could tell him to go to hell while they went someplace else for their meat. There was a bad drought right throughout Texas at this time and the quality of beef had fallen way off. Stringy, tendon-filled was all that was offered, not much above dog-meat quality—except in the Del Rio Valley which, by some queer quirk of nature had been relatively untouched by the drought. Well-watered, having the huge volume of the Rio Norte itself to call upon, the valley was still as lush as ever and the sweetgrass packed red, juicy meat on the cattle.

  Jose Morales’ beeves from Mexico had been in fair condition, but the Del Rio steers were prime now and Venters aimed to make his fortune this season. With the men from the valley backing him, the first step was to take over the town, control it, so that when the packing-houses sent in their buyers, they danced to his tune or lost out ...

  Early would be taken care of and, while Venters would rather not tangle with one of Dukes’ Enforcers, Bannerman, too, would get his if he stuck his nose in. Venters had been brushing up on the law: he knew the Enforcers were responsible only to Governor Dukes himself, but that, legally, they had to have an official assignment before they had any authority.

  And he knew damn’ well that nurse-maiding Big John Early was nowhere near official.

  If Bannerman and Cato hadn’t bought in in the first place, Venters would have taken over the town by now. He had had Early right where he wanted him, through pure luck, that Mexican gal jilting him and making him turn to the booze that way. But the Enforcers had fouled-up that plan but now was the time to move, he was convinced of it.

  And today was the day.

  He had crossed the plaza now and stepped up onto the porch outside the law office. Beau Hunnicutt was seated at the desk, boots up on one corner, cleaning his fingernails with his clasp knife. He nodded as Venters came in.

  “Howdy, Brad. We’re all set here when you are.”

  Venters leaned against the wall, thumbed back his hat and began to roll a cigarette.

  “Men are comin’ in, as you’ve likely heard.” He jerked his head to indicate the spattering of gunfire and occasional wild yells outside. “We’re gonna fill the town with cowpokes from the valley. I’m supplyin’ the booze and ammo; they’re gonna supply the muscle. We’re gonna make this damn’ town knuckle-under once and for all. We crack a few heads, spill a mite of blood if we have to, but we take over this town by high noon or I want to know why.”

  “Were gonna have to kill Early,” Hunnicutt pointed out.

  Venters licked his cigarette, shaped it and stuck it in his mouth, reaching for a vesta. “We’ve known that all along. He’s drunk. He’ll try to buy in, for sure. He’ll get cut down by a stray bullet and no one’ll be able to say just where it came from.” He struck his vesta and lit the cigarette, blowing smoke across the office. “And if Bannerman gets in the way, the same thing’ll happen to him.”

  Hunnicutt looked sort of dubious about that. “Rather not have anythin’ happen to an Enforcer, Brad. Dukes’ll come down on us like an avalanche.”

  “It’ll be an accident. Dukes won’t be able to prove a thing.”

  “What about Cato?”

  “What about him? He’s south of the border. If he comes back here, we’ll come up with a bunch of wetbacks who’ll swear Cato sneaked ’em across the Rio into the States. We’ll take care of him, too.” He pushed off the wall and straightened his hat, smiling crookedly. “No, can’t see no reason at all why this town shouldn’t be in our hands in a couple hours. Let’s go get the men organized ... ”

  Yancey came back into the doctor’s kitchen looking worried. Scattered gunfire came from the town and a few faint yells drifted on the hot breeze. Early was sprawled in a corner, snoring, reeking of whisky. Bartholomew glanced up from making coffee as the Enforcer came in.

  “It’s Venters’ bunch,” Yancey told him. “Looks like they’re aiming to take over Del Rio.”

  The doctor glanced instinctively at the big, drunken, ex-sheriff.

  “Well, he’s not gonna be any good,” he opined.

  Yancey nodded, drawing his Colt and checking the loads. Then he moved to where his rifle rested in a corner.

  “You’re not going out there! Alone? To face them?” asked the medic, alarmed.

  Yancey glanced up as he thumbed home two cartridges to completely fill the rifle’s tubular magazine.

  “I’m an Enforcer, Doc. I don’t have any real jurisdiction here, but I can’t stand by and let a bunch of hard cases under Venters take over the whole damn’ town. Big John’s out of it. Cato’s not back yet, so it only leaves me.”

  “But it’s suicide, Yancey! One man against—well, who knows? Fifty, even sixty men! You can’t do it!”

  Yancey smiled crookedly. “I’m not trying to play the hero, doc. It’s just something I have to do. Besides, it’s amazing how men like these suddenly lose interest once their leaders are downed.”

  “Venters and Hunnicutt? Both tough men, Yancey, and they’ve a hardcore of loyal men who’ll fight to the death for them.”

  “Well, Doc, the way I see it, I have to ... ”

  Yancey spun swiftly, working the rifle’s lever, cocking the weapon as he trained it on the back door which was slowly opening.

  He froze when he saw Conchita Morales there, disheveled, sunburned, trail-dusted. She pushed a strand of black hair off her face and pointed out into the yard.

  “Johnny—he is—hurt.”

  “Take care of her, doc.”

  Yancey set down the rifle on the table and Bartholomew ran to catch the Mexican girl as she swayed, and helped her into a chair. Yancey ran out into the yard and found Cato sagged in the saddle, one leg of his trousers stiff with blood, a ragged bandage on his side. The man was barely conscious as Yancey untied the ropes and lifted him off the horse.

  “By—hell—I din’ think we’d—make it—Y—Yance,” Cato murmured. “She—she come through—f—fine—defied her—ol’ man—Benito killed him by the by—Ain’t told her yet ... She’s still keen to—m—marry Big John ... ”

  “Okay, you take it easy, Johnny,” Yancey said, carrying the pale, wounded man into the house. He went straight through the kitchen and laid his pard down on the bed in the doctor’s office. Bartholomew had been giving brandy to Conchita and he now came hurrying to Cato and lifted the bandages to examine the wound in his side.

  He glanced at Yancey. “Lost a lot of blood. But the wound’s remarkably clean. He’ll be all right, a tough man like him. But he won’t be well enough to side you for at least a week ... ”

  Yancey nodded. “Long as he’s gonna be all right. You work on him, doc.”

  He hurried out to the kitchen and found the girl on one knee beside Early, shaking him. Yancey grabbed a towel, pumped cold water over it and pushed the girl aside. He flicked Early hard across the unshaven face several times, ignoring her gasps and the efforts she made to prevent him. The towel left red weals on Big John’s face and he moaned, lifted his head slowly, opened his reddened eyes.

  His whole big body jolted when he recognized Conchita. She threw her arms about his neck.

  “Oh, John!” she sobbed. “John, what have I done to you!”

  Still dazed, he instinctively slid an arm around her. He said something in a grating voice but his words were too slurred for Yancey to make out.

  Conchita stroked his stubbled, ravaged face with gentle, shaking fingers. “Oh, John, I—I lied to you. No, not about wanting to marry you. I do want to marry you and I—I will if you’ll have me. But my—father. He—he made me lie and say I had—used you ... He had promised me to—to someone in Spain ... ”

  Yancey placed a hand gently on her shoulder and when she looked puzzledly up into his face said quietly, “Nothing to stop you marrying Big John now, Conchita. Cato told me that during the fracas at the hacienda—Benito killed your father.”

  The shock hit her like a punch in the face. She stared at him for a long time and then turned back to cling to Early
who was blinking, trying to focus, coming out of his drunken sleep. He held her tightly against him, stroked her hair.

  Yancey stood up. “You’ll be all right now, Big John. I’ve got a chore to do.”

  He reached for the rifle again and suddenly Early fought to get on his feet. The girl helped him and he clambered up a little at a time, using the chair and the table edge. He swayed wildly, eyes rolling, trying to focus on Yancey.

  “The gun,” he grated, pointing with a shaking hand.

  Shots sounded from the town together with some wild yells.

  Yancey saw the thoughts forming, easing through his drunken stupor, and nodded. “Venters and Hunnicutt are taking over.”

  “You—you can’t stop ’em—alone,” he said hoarsely.

  “I’ll try. Now you better sit down before you fall down.”

  The girl pulled out a chair for him but he shook off hands, swayed and stumbled to the sink. He pumped the water over his head, came up dripping and gasping.

  “I—I’ll side you, Yance!” he croaked.

  “No, John! You can’t. You’re not fit!” protested Conchita.

  “She’s right, Big John. You’d get yourself killed.”

  “It’s my job, damn it!” he shouted, clapping a hand against his head and wincing. “Hell, Yance, I can take on the world now I know Conchita’s willin’ to marry me ... ”

  Yancey swiveled his gaze to the girl’s worried face. It was true. Her appearance and declaration of her love had been like a stimulant to Early. He was still in a bad way, but he was fighting it and he was willing.

  “We’ll get Doc to give you something,” Yancey said. “I can sure use you.”

  “John!” Conchita clung to him.

  He managed a sickly sort of smile as he brushed her hair with his lips. “I’ll come back, Conchita. I mightn’t be any great shakes, but long as I know you’ll be waitin’, I’ll walk through hell itself to come back to you.”

  She stared at him soberly and then stood on tip toe and kissed him.

  “I will be waiting, John,” she said huskily.

  “We better go,” Yancey said as a fresh rattle of gunfire sounded outside ...

  The plaza was a wild place when Yancey and Big John Early arrived. The ex-sheriff was walking firmly enough, but a little slowly, as if he was having to will each foot to go exactly where he wanted it. He carried his carbine in his big left hand, had the sawn-off shotgun strapped to his right thigh. He was suffering, his head throbbing with each step he took, and he squinted against the bright sunlight, but there was a squareness and determination about him that hadn’t been there for weeks.

  He was a man resurrected and looking to get back his self-respect.

  That kind of man could be mighty dangerous in a situation such as existed in Del Rio this day ...

  Venters and Hunnicutt failed to realize this when they saw the two men come into the plaza, watching from the law office. There were four hard cases with them, all armed. Venters dragged on his cigarette and smiled crookedly at the others.

  “Well, hell almighty, if Bannerman ain’t brought Early back to life! Lookit, will you? A walkin’ corpse! An’ that’s all we got to go up agin, fellers, and the town’s ours!”

  They laughed, for Early was shuffling along now, looking sick. Venters hitched at his gunbelt and Hunnicutt took down a rifle from the wall rack, levered a shell into the chamber. The rancher looked around at the others.

  “Ready? Bonus in it for the first man to put a bullet through Bannerman.”

  The men nodded approval and there was a rush for the door. They weren’t even trying to be subtle. Bursting out onto the porch, they already had their guns in their hands. There was no need for talk, of course. They knew and Early and Bannerman knew this was the day of reckoning and words would be simply a waste of time.

  Yancey reacted first. His carbine came up, braced into his hip, the toggle flicked open on the big oversized lever so that it would trip the trigger. The four cowboys started shooting and Yancey kicked Early’s legs from under him, dropping the man to the dust as he lunged sideways, working the rifle lever.

  The Winchester spat lead and flame and smoke, shot after shot. One man threw up his arms and ran out into the street, jerking and leaping like a rag doll before collapsing over one end of the horse trough. A second shuddered and was driven back the length of the porch, his back striking the rail so that he tipped over. Another dived for the walk, gun out ahead, blazing wildly. The fourth started to run for the corner of the building, Yancey cut him down in mid-stride, swung the rifle barrel back towards the remaining man.

  But Big John Early’s carbine lashed and the man slammed back into Hunnicutt who was just coming through the doorway. Hunnicutt was startled at the sudden eruption of violence and blood all over his law office. He threw the hit man from him, bringing up his own gun, blazing at Early. The bullets kicked dust into the big man’s face and he rolled, dropping his carbine and reaching for the sawn-off.

  Yancey emptied his Winchester, saw splinters fly and Hunnicutt ducked back. Venters appeared at a window, rifle at his shoulder, beading Early, whose shotgun was coming up. Yancey palmed up his Colt but before he could drop hammer, Early’s shotgun thundered and the window erupted into glass shards and splintered wood around Brad Venters. Yancey caught a glimpse of the man’s bloody body hurtling across the law office and then Hunnicutt, panicked, ran out, shooting, as he dived for the end of the porch. The second barrel of Big John Early’s sawn-off roared simultaneously with Yancey’s Colt.

  Beau Hunnicutt didn’t stand a chance. Yancey’s bullet took him in the chest. The charge of buckshot blew him to shreds in mid-stride and what was left of him flopped into the gutter.

  The Enforcer was up on his feet first, turning slowly, cocked and smoking Colt in his fist, looking for more enemies, but only drunken, wide-eyed, slack-mouthed cowpokes stared from various points around the plaza and he knew by the stunned looks on their faces that they were no longer any danger to anyone or the town.

  Yancey walked over and helped Big John Early to his feet, but the big man threw off his hand, and, swaying a little, wincing at the throbbing of his head, forced a grin.

  “Reckon I can manage by myself, from now on, Yance. But I thank you for seein’ me through, pard. I surely do.”

  Yancey smiled and nodded as Conchita came running down the street.

  “Gotta see you all the way before I quit this town, amigo. You asked me to be best man at your wedding, remember?”

  Early’s grin broadened as he caught up the Mexican girl in his massive arms.

  “Sure I remember. If ten gallons of whisky couldn’t make me forget, nothing will! If doc can get me standin’ up straight enough by tomorrow, I reckon the wedding’ll take place then.” He looked down into the girl’s face. “Suit you, Conchita?”

  Her smile was answer enough.

  About the Author

  Keith Hetherington

  aka Kirk Hamilton, Brett Waring and Hank J. Kirby

  Australian writer Keith has worked as television scriptwriter on such Australian TV shows as Homicide, Matlock Police, Division 4, Solo One, The Box, The Spoiler and Chopper Squad.

  “I always liked writing little vignettes, trying to describe the action sequences I saw in a film or the Saturday Afternoon Serial at local cinemas,” remembers Keith Hetherington, better known to Piccadilly Publishing readers as Hank J. Kirby, author of the Bronco Madigan series.

  Keith went on to pen hundreds of westerns (the figure varies between 600 and 1000) under the names Kirk Hamilton (including the legendary Bannerman the Enforcer series) and Clay Nash as Brett Waring. Keith also worked as a journalist for the Queensland Health Education Council, writing weekly articles for newspapers on health subjects and radio plays dramatizing same.

  More on Keith Hetherington

  The Bannerman Series by Kirk Hamilton

  The Enforcer

  Ride the Lawless Land

  Guns of Texas
>
  A Gun for the Governor

  Rogue Gun

  Trail Wolves

  Dead Shot

  A Man Called Sundance

  Mad Dog Hallam

  Shadow Mesa

  Day of the Wolf

  Tejano

  The Guilty Guns

  The Toughest Man in Texas

  Manstopper

  The Guns That Never Were

  Tall Man’s Mission

  Day of the Lawless

  Gauntlet

  Vengeance Rides Tall

  Backtrack

  Barbary Guns

  The Bannerman Way

  Yesterday’s Guns

  Viking With a Gun

  Deathwatch

  Rio Renegade

  Bullet for Bannerman

  Trail to Purgatory

  The Lash

  Gun Mission

  Hellfire

  Seven Guns to Moonlight

  The 12:10 from San Antone

  Only the Swift

  Die for Texas

  Dealer in Death

  Long Trail to Texas

  The Rawhiders

  Brace Yargo

  The Buckskinners

  Tame the Tall Hombre

  … And more to come every month!