Cap Fog 3

by J. T. Edson

  The top secret justice riders of Company “Z” – most of them Texas Rangers – prefer to let the law take its own course. But sometimes the law loses its way. Like it did in the case of Eloise Charmain – her savagely murdered body left bleeding in the dust. The prosecution suspect, “Handsome” Phil Foote, hired a slick lawyer who practice was crookeder than a rattler’s path. Eyewitness began to vanish. Money changed hands. A pair of hardcase drifters provided a bogus alibi. Suddenly it looked like an open-and-shut-case. But nobody figured on the hard-riding vengeance of Company “Z”.

  For W.O. 1 ‘Tom’ Netherton, RAVC, although he may no longer be ‘Tara’ and could have moved into James Lambert Drive by the time this book is published.

  Author’s Note

  Because of the unconventional nature of their duties, the State Legislature of Texas still consider it is politic to disclaim all knowledge of Company “Z”’s formation and operations.

  We realize that, in our present ‘permissive’ society, we could include the actual profanities used by various people, but we do not concede that a spurious desire to create ‘realism’ is a valid reason to do so. Lastly, as we do not conform to the current trendy pandering to the exponents of the metric system, we will continue to employ pounds, ounces, miles, yards, feet and inches where weights and distances are concerned, except when referring to the calibers of such weapons as are gauged in millimeters.

  J.T. Edson

  Introduction

  ‘Well, yes sir, Andy,’ Alvin Dustine “Cap” Fog said, a hard timbre underlying his leisurely Texas drawl. ‘I reckon you’re as right as the Indian side of a horse 1 when you say that what us good old boys of Company “Z” did back in the ’Twenties and ’Thirties wouldn’t have sat any too well with the kind of “liberal” bleeding hearts who seem to be running the movies and television shows these days. Fact being, I suppose we’d be what they’d slap a brand of “fascist” on. Which same to them, strikes me, is anybody who washes, shaves, keeps his hair cut short, wears a suit and necktie, doesn’t smoke pot or mainline, 2 is loyal to his country, believes in having law and order and is more concerned with the suffering of the victims of crime than looking out for the “rights” of the goddamned son-of-a-bitching criminals who abuses them.’

  The vehement declaration had been made in response to a

  comment from the fourth member of our party while we were discussing the increasing number of programs apparently intended to discredit the security and law enforcement agencies of the United States of America and Britain which were being put out—either in the form of ‘documentary exposes’ or as alleged ‘entertainment’—by the media in both countries. It was a subject in which I shared my companions’ misgivings, as I too found the trend very disturbing.

  ‘Language, dear!’ Mrs. Rita Fog protested in a mildly reproving tone, as her husband’s clearly heart-felt tirade ended. ‘You’re not in Company “Z” any more.’

  ‘Not for a long time, honey, more’s the pity,’ “Cap” admitted, sounding more than a trifle regretful. Then the hard expression on his tanned features softened and a note of affection came into his voice as he continued, ‘But I swear you still look as young and pretty as you did when you were being “Rita Ansell” for us back then.’

  ‘Did you ever hear such nonsense, J.T.?’ inquired the still good looking lady who was respectfully and fondly referred to as “Miz Rita” by all her friends and associates, showing she was far from displeased by her husband’s supplementary comment. The years she had spent in Texas had failed to eradicate all traces of an accent which indicated she had had a well educated upbringing in New England. 3 Turning to the man whose remark had provoked the outburst from “Cap”, she went on, ‘Why I declare he’s getting to be as big a flatterer as your Uncle Ranse used to be, Andrew.’

  I was in Boulder, Colorado, attending the 1979 Convention of Western Writers of America, when the invitation to meet ‘Cap’ and ‘Miz Rita’ reached me. Having learned from the itinerary for my visit given in the April Newsletter of the J.T. Edson Appreciation Society that I would be spending a few days in Tucson, Arizona, at the same time they were in the vicinity, they suggested we met for dinner one evening.

  You can bet I jumped at the opportunity!

  When I met the Fogs as arranged in the bar of my hotel, the Holiday Inn South, I found they had arranged a very pleasant and exciting surprise for me. They were accompanied by Andrew Mark “Big Andy” Counter, for whose grandfather, 4 son 5 and nephew 6 I have the honor to be biographer. After an excellent meal, we all went to my room and, over a few cans of Oly, my favorite American beer—imported specially for me by “Big Andy” from the Olympia Brewing Company of Tumwater, Washington State—we settled down to, as ‘Miz Rita’ put it, ‘visit a spell’.

  In addition to being most enjoyable, the meeting proved exceptionally fruitful as far as my work is concerned.

  One of the points raised by members of the J.T. Edson Appreciation Society since the second of the Alvin Dustine ‘Cap’ Fog series appeared in print—although, due to the peculiar workings of this author’s mind, the book in question, YOU’RE A TEXAS RANGER, ALVIN FOG, is actually the first in chronological sequence 7 —was how closely ‘Cap’ resembled his paternal grandfather, Captain Dustine Edward Marsden ‘Dusty’ Fog, C.S.A. 8 On my mentioning the matter in the bar, while ‘Cap’ was taking a telephone call, his wife declared this was hardly surprising. In addition to the physical resemblance, except for his hair being black instead of dusty blond, 9 he had received a similar education where gun handling and certain Japanese martial arts were concerned. 10 Furthermore, he had always idolized the memory of his grandfather and sought to model himself in Dusty’s image. However, as “Big Andy” pointed out, due to having served as a peace officer since graduating from college—first as a deputy in Rio Hondo County, Texas, under his father, Sheriff Jackson Marsden Fog, 11 then as a Texas Ranger—‘Cap’ had acquired only a minimal knowledge of the cattle ranching business and, although equally competent as a gun fighter and arguably the finest combat pistol shot of his day, 12 he was never anywhere near as excellent a cowhand as his grandfather had been. 13 On the other hand, ‘Miz Rita’ and “Big Andy” agreed that circumstances had never required Dusty to use the kind of unconventional methods employed by ‘Cap’ and Company “Z” during those periods when circumstances had compelled him to serve as a lawman in the Old West. 14

  As a result of our ‘visiting a spell’, I was granted permission by ‘Cap’ to tell the whole story of what had happened on the occasion when his grandfather had posed as a schoolteacher. 15 This included the part played in the affair by Dusty’s cousin, Betty Hardin, 16 about which I had seen no reference at the time I was writing of it early in my career. 17 I also learned enough to expand upon an incident involving the Ysabel Kid, 18 which I had covered previously without being aware of all the facts. 19

  Another welcome bonus was “Big Andy” supplying me with more information and authorizing me to tell all of what happened during two incidents in which his paternal grandfather was involved with Miss Martha “Calamity Jane” Canary. 20 Again, these had appeared at the early period of my production, of the Floating Outfit series 21 —in which category they are included on the list of titles in chronological order—but there was quite a bit more had taken place and I did not know of it at the time. I also discovered there were various discrepancies between my original coverage and the actual events, which I have now corrected. However, “Big Andy” made one stipulation when telling me to go ahead. For some reason he did not explain and about which I saw no reason to ask, he insisted that both lengthened episodes should appear as part of the Calamity Jane series and this has been done.

  The biggest breakthrough, however, had been with regards to my knowl
edge of the work carried out by the little publicized and less documented Company “Z” of the Texas Rangers; in which ‘Cap’ had served as a founder member. In fact, until the meeting, I had known nothing about this elite group except the following:

  In every democracy, the laws framed for the protection of the innocent have loopholes which can be—and frequently are—exploited for the benefit of the undeniably guilty. Although accepting such a state of affairs must exist in a free society, the Governor of Texas had grown concerned over the ever increasing wave of lawlessness which had followed in the wake of the well-meant—if ill-advised and difficult to enforce—ratification of the ‘Volstead Act’. 22 He had concluded that only unconventional methods could cope with the malefactors who slipped through the meshes of the legal system. Being restricted in their actions by governmental and departmental regulations, ordinary peace officers were unable to take action in circumstances of that nature. While pondering upon the situation, he had met three prominent European criminologists who were touring the United States delivering a series of lectures on this subject to the heads of the major law enforcement agencies. Acting upon the advice of George Manfred, Leon Gonzales and Raymond Poiccart, 23 the Governor had authorized the State Attorney General to select a special group of Texas Rangers to become—without any mention of its existence being made public—Company “Z” Every man was picked for his courage, integrity, specialized knowledge and devotion to the cause of justice. Their purpose was to deal with those criminals who could not be touched by conventional methods, even if the means they employed might be considered as stepping beyond the legal bounds of the law.

  My access to the added knowledge of Company “Z”s’ activities came about as a result of “Big Andy” showing us a story in a newspaper. It told how a proven multiple murderer had had to be released from custody without even being brought to trial because the arresting officer had neglected to inform him of his ‘rights’—as required by the much abused “Miranda decision” produced by the United States’ Supreme Court as a means of protection for the innocent 24 —and searched his apartment, without having first acquired the necessary warrant to do so, to locate the high powered rifle he had used to kill seven victims. '

  ‘Cap’ had commented that nobody other than a dictator or a totalitarian government—whether Communist or ‘right wing’—wished to deprive the honest, law abiding citizen of his ‘rights’, but he considered the United States was carrying this to excessive extremes. It went beyond the case we had just read. For one thing, boys and girls up to eighteen years of age could—and frequently did—commit serious crimes with impunity, knowing that being classed as “minors” put them beyond the reach of the criminal courts. All too frequently when a minor was taken before Juvenile Hall after committing a major felony, the “bleeding hearts” and “liberals” would ensure she or he was not committed to any form of punitive detention. It had been a remark by “Big Andy”, about the differences in the days when ‘Cap’ was a peace officer, which had produced the exchange recorded at the beginning of the ‘Introduction’.

  ‘Not that I believe for one moment you should,’ I declared, after “Miz Rita” had finished addressing “Big Andy” ‘But do you ever feel any remorse over the way in which Company “Z” used to handle their assignments?’

  ‘Like hell I do!’ the elderly Texan asserted firmly and, as his wife nodded her support for the statement, pointed to the other guest’s newspaper and went on, ‘Fact being, J.T., I sometimes reckon it’s a real pity there isn’t a Company “Z” around these days. And to prove I’m not any way ashamed of what we did, I’ll let you write up the notes I kept of the cases we handled, should you be so minded.’

  As always, ‘Cap’ kept his word!

  The notes I received proved to be so extensive that in one instance, despite having stated in the final Footnote of YOU’RE A TEXAS RANGER, ALVIN FOG that it would appear as ‘Case One, Friendly Persuasion’ of this volume, it upheld the motto of the J.T. Edson Appreciation Society, ‘HAVEN’T YOU HEARD? IT’S ALL BEEN CHANGED!’ It expanded into a full length book, RAPIDO Clint, describing how a dishonest financier was induced to return to the United States to stand trial after he had taken the precaution of obtaining Mexican citizenship and so could not be extradited from that country by legal means.

  The same thing has happened with this book!

  It was originally intended to cover more than one case!

  Here then, by kind permission of Alvin Dustine ‘Cap’ Fog, is yet another example of: THE JUSTICE OF COMPANY “Z”.

  One – There Was a Mistake Being Made

  Taking everything into consideration, Eric “Side-Wheeler” Heifer was neither the nicest, nor the most likeable person in Denton!

  In fact, one might have searched a vastly more populous community than the seat of Denton County, Texas, 25 without finding anybody so thoroughly reprehensible!

  However, it must be stated in all fairness, he had not been born in Denton nor did he normally reside there!

  A combination of having been a political agitator of the most vicious radical kind and finding it was not as profitable an occupation as he desired, added to having sweated out a sentence for arson in a penitentiary with the reputation of being a “man killer”, 26 had led Heifer to conclude the life of a pimp would be more to his taste than resuming his former activities.

  Having acquired the necessary contacts while incarcerated, he had achieved his ambition and had become more successful than he ever had been as an agitator. Although his belief that the new occupation could also be less dangerous had proved correct as far as he was concerned, the same was not the case for the prostitutes who were unfortunate enough to come under his control. Even among a disreputable fraternity not noted for their gentleness and chivalry in dealing with members of the weaker sex, over the past three years his name had become a byword for the severity and brutality of his treatment.

  It was that particularly objectionable trait which had brought Heifer to the, as far as his own line of business was concerned, far from lucrative small town.

  In accordance with his usual habit, Heifer had subjected his latest acquisition to a savage beating. Although only recently recruited to the ranks of the work of a prostitute and therefore inexperienced, Freda Marino had done nothing to warrant the punishment. It was inflicted for no other reason than to impress her with his superiority and the inadvisability of holding back even a small portion of the payments she received for her services. However, being high on “harmless” marijuana, he had overdone the lesson and injured her far worse than was intended. Before lapsing into merciful unconsciousness, her screams had aroused a neighbor with whom she had become acquainted and who, after trying to get into the room, began to shriek for the police. Promising to take revenge upon Rita Ansel for her interference at a more propitious moment, he had fled down the fire-escape before the peace officers came on the scene. Unfortunately, so far as either continuing his business or carrying out the punitive retribution was concerned, his summation that—because experience had taught them the victim would refuse to substantiate the charge—the police would not put too much effort into trying to find the attacker of a prostitute had proved to be incorrect.

  Due to the amount of outraged public sentiment which was being aroused by the newspaper coverage of the events that had preceded a forthcoming murder trial, the members of the San Antonio Police Department—along with those of every other municipal, county, State and Federal law enforcement agency throughout Texas—were being spurred by their superiors, who in turn were under pressure from the State Attorney General at the instigation of the Governor, to greater activity where the performance of their duties was concerned. Under such circumstances, the anticipated laxness was not as Heifer had anticipated.

  Nor had this been the sole source of his misfortunes.

  Calling upon an attorney of dubious morals who had acted for him in the past, the pimp had received disturbing news. Growing concerned ov
er the way in which the public and authorities were reacting, Hogan Turtle had passed the word that there must be a severe curtailment of illicit activities which could add fuel to the flames of outrage. While Heifer was not employed by the current head of a family which had been dominant in the criminal circles of Texas even prior to the establishment of a Republic and whose authority had remained undiminished after Statehood was attained, 27 it was a stricture he had been—even without knowing it was passed—ill-advised to ignore. Even without the lawyer’s warning, he was aware that he had made San Antonio too hot to hold him and must go into hiding until things cooled down. Nor had he wasted any time in putting the thought into effect. Having told the attorney where he intended to hide out, he asked to be informed when it was safe to return, and then left.

  On his arrival in Denton, despite having sufficient funds to stay at the best hotel—a precaution he had always taken against the need for a hurried departure—Heifer had elected to use a smaller and less salubrious, albeit fairly clean and solidly built, establishment in the low rent district. This was one of the suggestions made by the attorney. As he normally occupied the most luxurious and comfortable quarters available, the change in his life-style could serve to throw any searching peace officers off his trail. However, while he had not been subjected to any unwanted attentions by the local peace officers, after a week in the town he was growing increasingly discontented. Missing the creature comforts to which he had become accustomed, he was impatient for his enforced absence from the more lucrative confines of the larger city to be brought to an early end.

  Having retired comparatively early through boredom, the pimp was not yet sufficiently tired to have fallen asleep. Just as he was debating whether to get up again, dress and go out in search of some kind of diversion, limited though the facilities of Denton might be in that respect, he heard a slight clatter which caused him to raise his head from the pillow and gaze across the room. Although he had turned off the solitary lamp before retiring, the drapes were not drawn and sufficient light was coming through the window for him to be able to detect the cause of the sound, it had been produced by the key having fallen out of the hole. Nor had this come about by accident. Even as he looked, the clicking of the lock being turned came to his ears. Contemplating the phenomenon rapidly, he began to draw conclusions with commendable rapidity.