Nightfall at Little Aces

by Ralph Cotton

  “I’m always clean, so let’s get it done, Ranger,” Beck said, holding his wrists out. “The sooner we get to town, the sooner I can be on my way.” He grinned. “Next time I’ll be more careful of the company I keep.”

  “That’s always a wise policy,” Sam replied. As he spoke he stepped around Beck and ran his hands up and down his sides, searching for any other weapons. “You can lower your hands. I’m not going to cuff you unless you cause me trouble.”

  “Oh, you’re going to trust a member of the Hole-in-the-wall Gang, Ranger?” Beck lowered his hands and hooked a thumb into his belt, beneath his empty holster. Sam took note of it.

  “No, I don’t trust you, Beck,” Sam said flatly, not allowing himself to get too sociable. He stepped back and picked up the rifle and the two pistols from the dirt. “I’m keeping you in front of me at all times, the way you kept those two in front.” He stuck the big pistol into his belt, the smaller one into his rawhide vest, and held the rifle under his arm.

  “I ought to take offense at that remark, Ranger,” Beck said with a smile, “comparing me to a couple of small-time thieves like the Wheelers.”

  “You’re a thief and an outlaw, Warren Beck,” Sam said. “I consider you and your Hole-in-the-wall pals no different than the Wheelers. You boys are bigger thieves than the Wheelers. In my book that’s nothing to be proud of.” He gestured toward the two bodies. “Now help me get these two across their saddles and we’ll get moving. You and I don’t want to spend any more time together than we have to.”

  “Well,” said Beck, turning to the bodies, “I see that a man knows right off where he stands with you.”

  “I’m a lawman, Beck,” said Sam. “Keep that in mind and we’ll get along just fine until our trails part. Maybe you’ve always been too slick to get charged with anything, but that doesn’t make you a hero in my book.”

  “Understood, Ranger,” said Beck. “Now then, what town are we headed to anyway?”

  Sam looked off toward a distant line of low-stretching hills as if considering it. “Nickels is less than a day’s ride. They’ve got a telegraph office and sheriff.”

  “Then Nickels it is,” said Beck, as if he had any say in the matter. “If there’s no detectives snooping around, I might just stay a day or two, rest my tired old bones and my cayouse too before heading north. Think there’ll be any objections?”

  “That’ll be up to the town sheriff,” Sam replied. “I’ll have no say in the matter.”

  “You might mention to him how I came along with you without putting up a fight,” said Beck.

  “He’ll know that as soon as he sees you sitting upright in your saddle,” the ranger answered.

  “You sure have a way of making yourself clear, Ranger.” Beck chuckled, walking toward the bodies on the ground.

  Chapter 2

  The ranger sipped tepid water from a canteen and stood beside Black Pot while Beck finished tying the Wheelers’ bodies down over their saddles. He watched Beck step back with the two horses’ reins in hand and slap dust from his shirt with his flat-crowned hat. Sam had to admit, Beck had a disarming way about him. The aging outlaw hadn’t stopped his line of friendly banter since he’d begun loading the bodies.

  That was all right, the ranger told himself. This wasn’t the first smooth-talking thief he’d ever come upon. Sam wasn’t taken in by him. “…And don’t forget, the law has never successfully tied me to the Hole-in-the-wall Gang,” Beck said, as if Sam’s attention had been hanging on his every word.

  “Oh, I know what you’re thinking, Ranger,” said Beck, not realizing the ranger had only been half listening to him. Sam had been more interested in watching his actions than hearing his words. “You’re thinking, good schooling, good Mormon, Christian upbringing, how in the world does a man like this end up a train robber? Not admitting that I really am, of course.”

  But the ranger didn’t tell him he hadn’t even been listening. Instead he said, “Whatever you’ve done, you must’ve figured out a way to justify it by now.”

  “Justify it?” Beck seemed to consider it for a moment, then said, “No, I’m not justifying anything I’ve ever done. I don’t have to.” He grinned knowingly. “I’m just making barroom conversation.” He put his hat back atop his head. “Usually after a drink or two a buddy will get around to asking me why a man like me would choose the owl-hoot trail. I was just obliging you, Ranger.”

  “This is no barroom, we’re not drinking buddies, and I don’t really care,” Sam said bluntly. He nodded him toward his waiting horse as he capped the canteen. “Let’s get some saddle time in before dark.”

  “Whoa, Ranger,” Beck said with a friendly laugh, stepping forward toward him with what Sam took to be deliberation. “Don’t I get a swig of water first? This trail has been as dry on me as it has you.”

  “That’s close enough, Beck,” Sam said firmly.

  Beck stopped and shrugged. “Sorry, Ranger, I didn’t mean to make you so touchy. Do I need to ask your permission before I take a step in any direction?”

  There it was, Sam told himself—Beck making it appear as if the ranger were unreasonable, being overcautious with him. “Yes, you do.” Sam gave him a hard stare, letting him know right off where he stood. “If I have to tell you again, I’ll cuff you.”

  “Would you feel better if I’m cuffed, Ranger?” Beck asked, playing the part of a reasonable man trying his best to get along with some hard-bitten lawman. Again he held his wrists out as if willing to go along with whatever the ranger asked of him.

  “Get on your horse,” Sam said, ignoring the gesture as he took a hold of his saddle horn to swing up.

  “No,” Beck said just as firmly, taking a stand. “Not until you tell me what it’s going to take to get along with you.”

  Sam halted. He gave Beck a closer look. Was this man playing out a role? Was this his way of getting the ranger in close so he could make a move on him? Sam studied his eyes for a moment. Whatever it is, you’re good at it, Memphis Beck….

  “No, I mean it, Ranger,” Beck said, shaking his head with determination, seeing the resolve in the lawman’s eyes. “I’m not under arrest. I’ve gone along with everything you’ve asked of me. Now it’s time I know where I stand.” He took a step forward with his hands spread.

  “Get back, Beck,” Sam said, his hand going around the butt of his big Colt.

  Beck stopped, but he appeared on the verge of taking another step. The reins to the two horses fell from his hands. “Or what, you’ll shoot me? An unarmed man? For no reason? You’re not known for that!”

  Before Sam could speak, a voice said from atop the rock above them, “If he won’t, I will.”

  The Ranger’s Colt streaked instinctively from his holster and cocked. He stood poised, looking at the rifle pointing down at him from thirty feet.

  “Easy, Ranger Burrack,” said the rifleman, “I know who you are. I don’t want to kill you.”

  His words kept the ranger from firing, but only for a second. “You might know me, but do I know you?” Sam said.

  “Ranger, that’s Lightning Jack Strap,” Beck cut in, his hand going back up chest high. “He is known for shooting unarmed men…women, kids, pigeons.”

  “Keep running your mouth, Memphis,” said the rifleman. “You’ll make my job so much easier.”

  “If you’re Jack Strap, I’ve heard of you too,” Sam said, not lowering his Colt. He took a slow step sidelong, ready to jump off the trail for cover if need be. “Now, why is your rifle pointed at me?”

  “It’s not pointed at you, Ranger,” said Strap. “It’s pointed at Beck. I see you’ve got your hands full with this jake.”

  “He’s not a prisoner, Strap,” Sam offered. “I found him riding with the Wheelers.” He nodded toward the bodies draped over their saddles. “I’m riding into town with him, see where he stands with the law hereabouts.”

  “Then we’re both in luck, Ranger,” Strap called down to him. “We’re obliged to take him o
ff your hands.”

  We’re? Sam glanced around, and saw a second rifleman step into sight from around the base of the rock. “I’m not looking for anybody to take him off my hands,” he replied, moving the barrel of his Colt back and forth between the man above and the one on the ground. Were there more waiting behind cover?

  From atop the rock, Strap called down to the other man, “Vlak, keep an eye on Beck while I walk down from here and talk closer up with Ranger Burrack.” He backed away out of sight, in order to climb down to the trail.

  Without reply the second rifleman walked forward warily, his rifle barrel leading his way, leveled at Memphis Beck.

  “That’s Vlaktor Blesko—Bloody Vlak,” Beck said under his breath. “He once rolled heads for the czar of Russia. I’d rather have you shoot me in the heart right now instead of turning me over to these two. Their biggest reason for living is to see me dead.”

  In spite of Beck’s cool, calm manner, Sam noted a trace of apprehension in his voice. He gave Beck a look and said quietly, “Who mentioned turning you over to these two? Stay where you are and keep your hands in sight.”

  “My hands?” Beck held his hands in front of him and turned them back and forth. “Ranger, I don’t know what it is you think I can do. Look at me, I’m old enough to be—”

  “Keep your mouth shut for starters,” said Sam, “before I change my mind and feed you to them.”

  Beck nodded. He managed to keep silent until Vlaktor Blesko walked up closer and stopped, the tip of his rifle inches from Beck’s belly. A thin smile of satisfaction creased his stony face.

  “Hello, Bloody Vlak,” Beck said quietly. “This must be a big day for you.”

  The Romanian’s expression didn’t change. He leered at Beck as if the ranger weren’t even there. Sam stood with his Colt cocked as Jack Strap walked into sight from around the edge of the large rock. When Strap drew closer and stopped less than six feet from the ranger, he looked Beck up and down, then said to Sam, “Pardon me if I sounded a little pushy, Ranger. The truth is we’ve been tracking this man and the rest of his bunch longer than I like to admit.”

  “We?” Sam asked, his pistol ready as he looked around again.

  “Vlaktor and I are scouts for Colonel Dan Elgin’s Railroad Security Alliance. I know you’re bound to have heard of Colonel Elgin…of the Great Western Railroad Posse?”

  “I have,” said Sam, looking the two over closely. He’d heard of several railroads pooling their resources and hiring a posse of professional manhunters to bring down gangs like Hole-in-the-wall. This was the first time he’d met any of them face-to-face.

  Noting that the ranger was not as impressed as Strap had hoped he would be, Strap said with a slight shrug, “All right, I understand. You’re the one who captured Beck. I’ll see to it you get an ample reward. I’ll even give you a receipt saying so, if that’s wh—”

  “I didn’t capture him,” Sam said, cutting him off, “and I don’t accept reward money.”

  “Then what is going on here?” Strap gave both the ranger and Beck a curious look.

  “I tracked the Wheeler brothers down.” Sam nodded at the bodies on horseback. “Beck here just happened to be riding with them. Now he’s agreed to ride into Nickels with me, just to see where he stands with the local law.”

  “Sort of doing my civic duty,” Beck cut in.

  “The local law?” Strap looked Beck up and down with contempt. “This snake is too slick for any local law to handle. We’re doing you a favor taking him off your hands.” As he spoke his grip grew tighter around his rifle stock.

  “That’s the second time you’ve mentioned taking him off my hands,” said Sam. “If that’s all you’ve got to say, it’s time you and your partner here take leave.” His hand held the big Colt steady.

  “I’ve been about as reasonable as I know how to be, Ranger,” Strap said, his attitude turning dark. “He’s wanted by the railroad and I’m taking him in. Stay out of my way.” Without another look at Sam, Strap said to Beck, “All right, outlaw, let’s get going.” He nodded toward Beck’s horse.

  Hesitating, Beck gave the ranger a look. Sam only watched in silence, his expression offering no clue to what was going through his mind.

  “You heard me, Beck,” said Strap. “You can ride straight up or facedown. It makes me no difference one way or the other.”

  The Romanian stepped in closer, helping Strap seize the situation.

  Glancing at Sam, Strap said confidently, “As for you, Ranger. The best thing for you to do is—”

  His words never made it out of his mouth. The barrel of the ranger’s Colt swung fast and hard. Strap hit the ground with a long red welt along the side of his head. His rifle flew from his hands as Sam’s Colt leveled toward Bloody Vlak.

  “Drop it,” Sam warned as the Romanian jerked his rifle away from Beck and pointed it toward him. There would be no time to crack this one in the head, Sam knew instinctively as he started to pull the trigger. But before he could, he saw Beck’s right forearm come around fast and knock the rifle barrel to the side. Then, as quick as a whip, Beck spun in a circle, faster than a man half his age. His left leg shot upward into a roundhouse kick to the Romanian’s jaw.

  Vlaktor turned a crazy flip sideways and landed with a thud, knocked cold. The side of Beck’s boot heel left an impression on his broad jaw.

  Sam kept his surprise from showing, yet he couldn’t help but wonder if this was what Beck had in mind trying to get in closer to him before the two railroad detectives showed up.

  “I learned that years ago along the Barbary Coast. I’m surprised I even remembered it,” Beck said. As he spoke, he took a step toward Vlaktor’s rifle lying in the dirt.

  “I’ll take that.” Sam stepped around him, and picked up the rifle, his Colt still in hand. On the ground, Jack Strap moaned and tried to struggle upward. As Beck backed away with a shrug, Sam picked up each man’s rifle and unloaded them into the dirt. He slipped Strap’s pistol from its holster and unloaded it as well. Then he took the half-conscious detective by his hand and pulled him to his feet.

  “Pick up those bullets,” Sam said to Beck. To Strap he said, “We’ll leave your horses three miles up the trail. Don’t let me catch you dogging us the rest of the way to Nickels, Detective.”

  “You—you’ve cracked my damn head,” Strap managed to say in disbelief, his gloved hand to the welt above his ear.

  “You’re lucky I didn’t put a bullet through your foot,” Sam said. “You should know better than to interfere with a lawman doing his job.” With his free hand, he helped Strap steady himself for a moment until the bleary-eyed detective gained his balance.

  “Ranger, don’t leave us out here afoot,” Strap said. “We’re forward scouts. This is going to make us look like a couple of fools!”

  “You did this to yourself, Strap,” Sam said quietly.

  “You better hope and pray our trails don’t cross again, Ranger,” Strap said, cupping his throbbing head. “And you,” he said to Beck. “I ever run across you again, next time I’ll kill you quicker than you can turn around.”

  “You hear him threatening me, don’t you, Ranger?” said Beck. “See? If they can prove something, they put a fellow in jail. If they can’t prove anything, they just kill a man straight out.”

  “Let’s go, Beck,” Sam said, seeing Beck ready to take a step toward the wobbly detective.

  Strap stood over the unloaded guns lying in the dirt until he watched the ranger and Beck ride away, Sam leading the Wheelers, their dead arms dangling loosely. Beside him Beck looked back with a grin, leading the detectives’ horses around the large rock to the winding trail.

  No sooner had the two gotten out of sight than Strap hurriedly punched bullets from his holster belt and loaded his revolver. “Wake up, Vlak!” he shouted at the limp figure on the ground and kicked him roughly on his leg.

  Vlaktor groaned, shook his head, and struggled against the ground. Strap cursed under his breath and he
lped the Romanian to his feet. “Vat dids he hit me vith?” Vlak asked in a slurred voice.

  “His foot, you idiot,” Strap said sharply, drumming his fingers on the butt of his holstered revolver. “He gave you a Chinese roundhouse. You should have seen it coming!”

  “How vould I see it…?” Vlaktor batted his bleary eyes and cupped his stiff, throbbing jaw.

  Looking toward the trail, Strap said, “Come on, shake yourself off and let’s get going. Maybe we can get to the horses and retrieve them before the colonel and the others catch up to us. I’ve been humiliated enough for one day.”

  The pair struck out along the narrow trail, their unloaded rifles under their arms. But before they had walked a thousand yards, they looked back and stopped. Colonel Elgin, in his long black duster and derby hat, led the posse toward them.

  “Damn it, he’s seen us,” said Strap. “I could kill that ranger for this.”

  Moments later the colonel brought the seven-man posse to a halt, circling Strap and the Romanian. “I hope there is some good reason why you two are walking,” the colonel said briskly. He jerked a pair of dust goggles from his eyes and let them hang from his neck on a strip of black rubber as he looked all around, as if searching for their horses.

  “It’s Memphis Beck, Colonel,” said Strap. “Him and an Arizona ranger caught us unawares and took off with our horses.”

  “Caught you unawares?” said the colonel, his voice growing more gruff. “What kind of scouts get caught unaware?”

  “I—I don’t know what to say, Colonel,” Strap replied.

  But the colonel didn’t even pause for an answer. Instead he asked angrily, “What in blazing hades is an Arizona ranger doing riding with an outlaw like Memphis Beck?”

  “He’s taking Beck to Nickels to see if he’s wanted by any local law—”

  “Local law, my virgin aunt!” said Colonel Elgin, cutting him off. “If these local lawmen could handle this bunch of thieves, the railroad wouldn’t need us out here in the first place!” He contemplated things, then said, “He’s headed for Nickels, eh? How far ahead are they?”