Brand 8

by Neil Hunter

  ‘Convinced now, Mr. Shan?’

  He threw the object to the ground. It hit with a solid thud and lay gleaming in the sunlight.

  It was a block of pure gold.

  Sung Shan climbed down off his horse, bending to retrieve the gold block, examining it carefully. When he raised his head there was a thin smile on his lips. It was a cosmetic smile that did not reach his eyes.

  ‘Mr. Ruger, I do believe congratulations are in order.’

  Ruger had moved to stand beside his horse. He took down his canteen and uncapped it. He splashed some water on his dusty face, then took a deep swallow.

  ‘Shan, you’re all heart.’

  When he received no answer Ruger glanced up. Shan had already gone over to where Chu stood at the opening to the cave. The giant Chinese said something in his own tongue, to which Shan gave a brief reply.

  ‘Something wrong?’ Ruger asked, joining Shan.

  ‘Chu has seen someone watching us. From that low ridge directly behind you. Do not look around. Let us allow him to believe he is safe. I would like to meet this man. We should bring out the gold and load it into the wagon. Leave our visitor to Chu.’

  Chapter Six

  Slumped in the scant shade of a huge boulder Brand wiped sweat from his face. He cursed the heat and the dust and the world in general. He was not in a particularly good mood. He had missed a lot of sleep the night before through the savage headache still throbbing inside his skull. At first light he had saddled up and moved on, still searching the trail he had lost the night before. It had taken him a good hour to locate it again, and shortly after he made the discovery that the man he was trailing was no longer alone. The tracks of two riders and a wagon joined up with the lone man. It had answered one of the questions floating around inside Brand’s head. He had been wondering how the man named Ruger intended moving the gold if and when he found it. The wagon tracks explained that.

  The second question had been answered soon after Brand had taken cover behind the boulder, and found he was able to watch Ruger and his four companions. Ruger had found the gold. Brand watched the men loading the long, narrow boxes into the wagon. The fact he had completed the first part of his assignment – locating Ruger and the gold – made little difference to Brand’s mood. He still felt a deep-rooted anger at the price the gold had fetched. Too many people had already died. He wondered how many more would need to suffer before McCord decided to allow Brand to move in. The more he thought about McCord’s desire to follow the gold to its final destination, the less he liked it. Not that it made any difference. Brand had his orders and as long as he was working for McCord he had to stay with them.

  Brand eased away from the boulder, returning to where he had left his horse and reached for his canteen. It was already well over half empty. He splashed some on his face, rubbing the back of his neck with a wet hand. He allowed himself a small mouthful of the tepid water before hanging his canteen back on his saddle, then made his way back to his vantage point.

  The wagon was still being loaded. There didn’t seem to be any urgency in the way the men were working. Brand saw no problem with that. They had time on their side, and in the dry heat it was wiser to take things easy.

  The minutes dragged by. Brand wondered how long he was going to have to hang around before Ruger and company moved out.

  The faint sound behind him barely registered. Brand reacted instinctively, lunging off to one side and turning, his right hand snatching for the Colt on his hip. He was starting to rise, the revolver clear of his holster. He had already picked up the massive shape before him. Brand had a blurred glimpse of a brutal face, the head completely bald, gleaming in the bright sunlight. He saw too, the huge fist an instant before it clubbed him across the side of his head. Pain exploded inside his skull as Brand was knocked sideways. The impact stunned him. He skidded on his knees, the Colt slipping from his fingers. Trying to ignore the thundering pain in his head Brand struggled to regain his balance. His senses failed him and he saw too late the dark shape looming over him. He struck out, driving his fist at the wide body. It was like hitting a sandbag. He threw another punch, aiming for the face this time. A huge hand swatted his fist aside. A hard fist drove into his side, exploding breath from his body. Brand slumped to the ground, desperately sucking air into his starved lungs. He collapsed in the dust, feeling its sour taste in his mouth.

  He lay motionless, his body burning with pain. His frustration was increased by his own weakness. He tried to climb to his feet. A hard boot lashed out and thudded against his side, spinning him over onto his back. Brand blinked against the blinding glare of the sun. A moment later the light was blocked by the towering form of his silent attacker. Hands reached down and grasped Brand’s shirt. He felt himself being lifted off the ground as if he was a child in the powerful hands, The world spun before his eyes and then settled with jarring abruptness as he was thrown bodily across his own saddle, face down. His horse began to move, bouncing him roughly and Brand felt a raging sickness fill his throat. He wanted to get himself off the horse. Feel the hard ground under his feet so he could at least fight back. His spirit was willing but the flesh was weak, so he stayed where he was. A couple of times he blacked out. Each time it took longer to recover and he had the sense to resist an attempt at a premature come back.

  The horse came to a halt. Brand caught the sound of voices. Men were speaking in hurried tones, one in particular in anger. Brand felt certain that anger was directed at him. Without warning hands caught hold of his clothing and he was thrown from the horse. He failed to break his fall and hit the ground on his left side, his face scraping the rough earth. He felt blood streak his jaw.

  He was not allowed to lie for long. He was pulled into a sitting position, his back against a hard rock. Brand opened his eyes slowly, letting the spinning world settle. He stared up into five faces. Two of them were Chinese. One of the others he recognized as the man from the cabin. The one who had hit him.

  ‘That’s him. That’s the son of a bitch. I should have killed him back at the cabin.’

  Sung Shan allowed himself a shadowy smile. ‘But you did not, Mr. Ruger. Because of your failing we now have an added problem.’

  Harvey Ruger straightened up. He put his hand to the butt of his revolver. ‘I can soon put that to rights,’ he said.

  Sung Shan raised a slim hand. ‘No, Mr. Ruger. It is too late for that now.’

  ‘What the hell you on about now, Shan?’

  ‘Has it not occurred to you that this man may be from the law?’

  Ruger laughed. ‘You think that’s going to stop me? Even lawdogs die when you shoot them.’

  ‘Perhaps. But you agree with my thought?’

  ‘So he’s the law.’ Ruger shook his head. ‘Hell, I don’t give a damn. Kill the bastard.’

  ‘There are times, Mr. Ruger, when I am in despair over you.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘This man may have informed his superiors about us. He may have already passed along information to be used against us.’

  ‘If he has learned anything, Shan, there ain’t any way he could have passed it along. Not from out here.’

  ‘I prefer caution, Mr. Ruger. Until we know to the contrary we must assume the worst. It is in our interest to keep this man alive for now. Do not forget how much Master Han has invested in this venture. He does not tolerate mistakes. As you should know by now, Mr. Ruger.’

  Ruger scowled. He made no objections.

  Sung Shan beckoned Chu. He took Brand’s Colt from the big Chinese, then gave him swift instructions. He turned back to Brand.

  ‘Until it has been decided what to do with you...Mister...?’

  ‘The name is Brand.’

  ‘So...as I was about to say, Brand, while there is the possibility you can furnish us with information you will be allowed to live. Do not presume that will remain permanent. You are of use only as long as our venture can be jeopardized.’ Sung Shan paused, studying Brand silently for
a moment. ‘Just how much have you learned, Mr. Brand?’

  ‘I think I’ll let you worry about that. Way I see it, Mr. Shan, you’re going to have plenty of time to do just that.’

  Ruger lunged forward, his mouth taut. ‘Give me ten minutes and I’ll get your answers.’

  ‘No chance, Ruger,’ Brand said. You’re out of your league. Killing old men and girls is the best you can do. You already missed your chance at me.’

  ‘The hell you say!’ Ruger smashed a boot into Brand’s side. ‘See how loud you crow after I kick the shit out of you.’

  ‘Ruger. Leave him.’ Sung Shan’s tone was hard. Ruger stepped back, his expression betraying his feelings for the Chinese. ‘I believe it will be better if you stayed away from Mr. Brand. He will be well looked after by Chu.’

  Brand glanced at the menacing, silent figure. Chu returned his scrutiny without a change of expression.

  ‘You have already experienced Chu’s talent for violence, Mr. Brand,’ Sung Shan said conversationally. ‘He has vast and complicated skills at his command. It can be used to either caution someone, or to kill them. I am sure there is no need to say more.’

  Shan turned away, Ruger following reluctantly. They moved to the wagon where the other two men waited. The loading commenced again as the long boxes from the cave were manhandled into the wagon.

  Doing his best to ignore Chu’s brooding bulk Brand leaned back against the rock. Like it or not, he had no say in any of the events about to take place. For once he was going to have to sit back and drift whichever way the wind blew. It had been his own fault Chu had overpowered him. But at least he was getting a close up view of what was happening, and perverse as it was, he had at least located the gold.

  He watched them loading the boxes into the wagon. The gold in those boxes had a lot of people interested. McCord. Sung Shan. Ruger. Jenny McAdam had died because of it. Brand was interested in the gold too. It was the cause of his current predicament. One way or another he had to reverse that.

  It took almost an hour to complete the loading, Sung Shan supervising the whole operation. It was only after the canvas sheet had been lashed down over the load that Shan returned to where Brand sat.

  ‘We are ready to go now. Chu will bind your hands. Then you can climb on your horse. Chu will take your reins and lead you. Remember what I said earlier. Do not attempt to escape. I have told Chu that if you do he must stop you any way he can.’

  ‘If he doesn’t kill you, Brand, I will,’ Ruger called as he mounted his own horse.

  ‘I were you, Ruger, I’d be more concerned about keeping an eye on those gold bricks. Way things seem to be going you won’t be keeping them long.’

  ‘What the hell do you know?’

  ‘Enough about that gold. And your friend Shan.’

  ‘You’re bluffin’.’

  Brand didn’t reply. It was easier to let Ruger worry. The more he had on his mind the less time he would have for baiting Brand. He needed to be able to concentrate on getting himself out of the trouble he was in. Getting Ruger off his back might allow him some breathing space. He was going to need it.

  Chapter Seven

  Muted sounds broke through the drug of sleep. Jason Brand roused himself, becoming aware of the ache that ran the length of his spine. He pushed into a sitting position, scrubbing a hand across his dry face. His fingers rasped against the thick beard stubble. The least they could have done was to have let him shave. He smiled at his own vanity. What the hell did he need to shave for? Right now he had no need for the niceties of life. A rising burst of anger brought him lurching to his feet and he stumbled around in semi-darkness until he tripped over a coil of rope. He went down on his knees, cursing his own weakness, and knew in the same instant that it was exactly what Sung Shan wanted. The Chinese had his own methods for breaking a man. Brand had already acknowledged the possible effectiveness of those methods.

  He crawled on hands and knees until he reached the place where a small iron grille afforded him his only contact with the outside world. Pressing his face against it Brand stared out on a wide blue sky curving cleanly above a limitless spread of blue-green water. He felt the slight touch of a breeze against his skin and tasted the salt from the water that sprayed up from below the grille.

  The Gulf of Mexico.

  A wide and peaceful expanse of ocean that was a long way from the arid terrain of New Mexico. Brand narrowed his aching eyes against the bright gleam of the reflected sun and listened to the sounds around him. Sounds he had come to recognize over the past days. The soft flap of bleached sails catching the high winds and the constant creak of the tall masts flexing against the weight of canvas and rope. He could also hear the slap of the waves against the sides of the ship and the shrill cry of gulls as they wheeled and curved against the clean splash of the empty sky.

  Somehow he had known what was waiting at the end of the two-day trip by train, taking them all the way out of New Mexico and through southern Texas. Sung Shan had the whole trip well organized. From the gold-cache they had traveled across country for three days, picking up a backwater spur line just below Gallup. The gold had been transferred into a freight car and stored in prepared wooden crates. A local cattle train had hooked them on in the late afternoon and just after midnight they had been shunted into a siding alongside the southbound tracks of the main Denver to El Paso route. In the early hours a long freight train had made a stop for water and when it moved on the freight car had been added to its complement. At El Paso they had left the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe line, joining the Southern Pacific. They traveled deep into Texas and completed their rail journey just below Corpus Christi. Sung Shan’s pre-planning had been well worked out and another wagon and team had been waiting. The final stretch of their journey brought them to a quiet little bay along the coast from Port Isabel. On the evening tide Jason Brand got his first glimpse of the triple masted 250-foot clipper The Gulf Queen. The gold had been taken on board and stored in the after hold and before first light the ship raised anchor, turned about and had slipped quietly by Port Isabel, leaving behind the calm water of Laguna Madre. The thin spit of land known as Padre Island fell behind them in the early morning mist as The Gulf Queen set a southerly course out across the Gulf, the white yardarm pointing the way to Mexico.

  For Jason Brand it meant being confined below decks, relieved only when he was brought a mug of water and a chunk of dry bread by one of the crewmen. On the second day the man himself put in an appearance, accompanied by the ever silent Chu. Sung Shan stood just inside the doorway, a thin smile playing around the corners of his mouth.

  ‘I’ll wager you were a bastard when you were a kid,’ Brand said. He directed his words at Shan, but his gaze drifted beyond the man, taking in the open deck and the calm sea beyond. Nothing he saw offered much in the way of escape. Brand returned his gaze to Shan. ‘I can just see you pulling the wings off flies.’

  Sung Shan stared around Brand’s cramped quarters. ‘I hope you understand that I could not offer better accommodation, Brand,’ he said. ‘If it had been left to Mr. Ruger you would already be dead and not enjoying the pleasure of a sea voyage.’

  ‘I’m not so sure about it being good for my health.’

  ‘That is of great concern to me,’ Shan said. ‘I am still undecided as to the extent of your knowledge over my affairs. As I said once before, you will be kept alive until the matter is determined one way or another. Once we reach our destination I will have ample time to devote to you.’

  ‘The hell with you, Shan.’

  Even now Brand could see the cold gleam in Sung Shan’s eyes. Once the Chinese had him where he wanted, Brand’s life would become decidedly uncomfortable. So he needed to do something to alter things. McCord’s priorities didn’t concern him any longer. It was down to pure survival – his own, and that took pride of place over everything else. If he managed to get himself free and clear of Shan and company, then he could follow up his assignment.

  ‘
We will talk again,’ Shan had said.

  He stepped back and the door thudded shut again.

  Now peering through the grille Brand screwed his head round, trying to get a look towards the bow of the ship. At first all he could see was the blurred merging of sea and sky. He blinked against the bright glare, and as his eyes focused he made out a strip of tree-lined land. Below the trees was a pale beach, waves rolling against the sand. He realized then that the ship was turning in towards the land. He picked up the increasing activity on deck as the crew moved to man their stations.

  He moved back from the grille and slumped against the bulkhead. Time was running out. The voyage was coming to an end. Probably at some rendezvous where Sung Shan would unload his gold. That meant Brand would be leaving the ship too. But for where? He didn’t give it too much though. His main concern was his survival.

  He stayed close to the grille, watching as the shoreline got closer. He saw they had entered a small bay and the beach was only a couple of hundred yards away. Close enough for Brand to see the wild growth of trees and undergrowth. The area looked uninhabited. First choice for an illegal landing of stolen gold.

  He jerked away from the grille as he heard the bolt on the door being jerked back. He saw it swing open. Saw the stocky figure framed in the opening. One of the ship’s crew.

  ‘Come on, Yank, the Chinaman wants you on deck.’ The voice was harsh. The accent British. The threat behind the tone was clear. To add emphasis to the order the revolver in the sailor’s hand moved menacingly towards Brand’s stomach. ‘Buck up, Yank, or I’ll let you have one your own bleedin’ bullets.’

  Brand stood up slowly, bracing himself against the bulkhead as the ship rolled slightly. He heard the man laugh softly. Brand crossed to the door, ignoring the gun. He had already noticed it was his own Colt. That angered him more than anything else. The bastards were already dividing up his belongings.