Blood Ties: A Texas Ranger Will Kirkpatrick Novel

by James J. Griffin

  Will pulled out a heavy needle and thick thread from the medical kit, and a flask of whiskey from his saddlebag. He gave Max a swallow of the liquor, then used more of it to wash out the wound in his side. Once that was done, he stitched the wound shut, poured carbolic over it, coated it with salve, wrapped a bandage around Spurr’s middle and tied it in place.

  “You can put your shirt back on now,” he told Spurr, once he was finished.

  “I reckon I’ll just leave it off for awhile, and put it on the rocks near the fire to dry. I sure don’t want to catch a chill, with night comin’ on,” Spurr answered.

  “That’s not a bad idea,” Will said. “Reckon I’ll do the same.”

  Will pulled off his shirt, picked his and Spurr’s up, and spread them out on the side of a large rock alongside the fire. Jonas returned, carrying an armload of dried branches.

  “Reckon I’d better dry my shirt, too,” he said. He dropped the wood next to the fire, then peeled off his drenched shirt and spread it alongside the others. Max settled alongside the fire.

  “If you’re gonna be all right, Max, me’n Jonas are gonna search those bodies, and their saddlebags, to see if we can figure out who they were, and hopefully find the stolen money,” Will said.

  “I’ll be fine. You go right ahead,” Spurr answered. “I reckon I’m gonna take off my boots and socks to dry them, too. I’ll just rest and let you boys do all the work.”

  “Okay. C’mon, Jonas. We’ll go through the saddlebags first.”

  Jonas followed Will to where the horses were grazing, at a good-sized patch of grass. They began going through the outlaws’ saddlebags.

  “I’ve got some cash in this one, Will,” Jonas said.

  “Same here,” Will answered.

  Their search revealed each outlaw had carried a thousand dollars.

  “Hardly seems worth murderin’ someone, then gettin’ yourself killed, for that little money,” Jonas said.

  “You’re right. If they cleaned out the bank vault, like Art said they did, they should’ve had more. I doubt they had time to cache the rest anywhere. Plus, we saw no sign they’d stopped on the way, nor any fresh dug ground, neither. Let’s check the bodies. Mebbe we’ll find somethin’ there.”

  The five dead men’s pockets were searched, but revealed nothing of interest, no clue to their identities. Will and Spurr studied their faces carefully.

  “You recognize any of ’em, Will?” Spurr asked.

  “No. The one Jonas drilled through the face looks sorta familiar, but I can’t be certain.”

  “I don’t recognize any of ’em, either. What’re we gonna do with ’em?”

  “We’re gonna wrap ’em up real tight, hope the weather stays kinda cool so they don’t get to stinkin’ too much, and haul ’em back to town,” Will answered. “Mebbe somebody there will know who they are.”

  “Were.” Jonas corrected.

  “I guess you’re right. Were,” Will answered, with a grim laugh.

  The bodies were wrapped in blankets, then the gear removed from the horses, who were rubbed down and picketed to graze. After that was done, Will and Jonas returned to the fire, where Spurr had dozed off. They also took off their boots and socks to dry. Will made the usual trail supper of bacon, beans, biscuits, and coffee. Spurr awakened at the smell of the frying meat and boiling coffee. Once supper was finished, the horses were checked one final time, then the three worn-out lawmen turned in for the night.

  13

  Late in the afternoon three days later, Will and his partners rode into Kirkpatrick. By the time they reached the marshal’s office, a good-sized crowd had gathered, and followed them. Deputy Art Mason had heard the commotion, and was waiting for them on the front sidewalk.

  “Howdy,” he said to them. “I see you’ve caught the rest of the gang.”

  “The rest of the gang?” Will echoed. “What do you mean, ‘the rest of the gang’?”

  “Newt Haines hung on long enough to talk before he died,” Mason answered. “He told me the whole story. I’ve got the leader locked up. You’d better come inside, Will. You ain’t gonna be happy.”

  “All right,” Will said. “Have some men take these bodies down to the undertaker, will you? Make certain he leaves their faces uncovered, so we can see if anyone recognizes them.”

  “I’m already here,” Frederick Eagle, the town undertaker, called out from the back of the crowd. “I’ll take charge of them.”

  “Fine, Fred,” Will answered. “Max, Jonas, I figure you’d better come along, too.”

  They dismounted and followed Mason inside the office. Will stopped short when he saw the occupant of the first cell.

  “Art! Is this some kind of bad joke?”

  “I wish it was,” Mason answered.

  “William, it’s about time you returned,” his father called, from where he sat on the edge of the cell’s bunk. “Perhaps now you can explain to this jackass that I had nothing to do with robbing my own bank, so I might be released from this imprisonment. Did you capture the real perpetrators?”

  “We caught up with ’em, and had to shoot it out with the gang when they ambushed us,” Will said. “They’re all dead. We got back five thousand dollars. Each man had a thousand with him.”

  “But they took over fifty thousand,” Silas answered. “Where’s the rest? You need to get to the bottom of this, William.”

  “I intend to do exactly that,” Will answered. “Art, what’s the meaning of this? I know my father. He’s a ruthless businessman, but he is honest. He’d never steal money from folks who entrusted it to him. Besides, what reason would he have? It’s ridiculous locking him up.”

  “That’s what I tried to tell him, William. It’s preposterous to even imagine I would steal from my friends, the people who helped me build this town.”

  “Just simmer down, Mr. Kirkpatrick, and let me talk to your son,” Mason said. “Will, let’s go out front, where we can speak in private.”

  “I’d like to hear your explanation too, Art,” Spurr said. “I also find it impossible to believe that Silas would rob his own bank.”

  “He didn’t,” Mason answered. “But he sure planned and arranged it.”

  The men went back to the front office. Mason locked the door and pulled down the shades before he spoke.

  “We might as well all sit down,” he said. “This will take a while.”

  Once everyone was seated, he took a file from the top desk drawer and handed it to Will.

  “It’s all in there,” he said. “I copied down Newt’s statement word for word. He knew he was dyin’, so he’d have no reason to lie. He stated that he was in on the robbery, but was double-crossed by the boss. The man who pulled the trigger was supposed to take a shot at Newt, just to make it look real, but miss. He wasn’t supposed to gut-shoot him. I guess the bunch was afraid Newt might get scared, and start talkin’, so they decided to kill him and make certain he kept quiet. Their mistake was not makin’ certain he was dead on the spot.”

  “He said that boss double-crossed him, right?” Spurr asked.

  “That’s right,” Mason confirmed.

  “That could be anyone, not necessarily Mr. Kirkpatrick. You’ll need more proof than that, Art.”

  “I’m comin’ to it,” Mason answered. “Newt told me most of the money stayed right here in town. The men who you ran down were a diversion. The money they took was only their cut. He said the real leader of the outfit was your father, and where to find the rest of the money. I got a warrant from Judge Ralston down in Kerrville to search your family’s property. The rest of the money was exactly where Newt said it would be, right under a pile of taters in the root cellar. Your father moved the taters, dug a hole and buried the cash, then piled the taters back over it. I reckon he figured it’d be safe there until things quieted down.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” Will said. “How much money was in the cellar?”

  “A bit more’n ten thousand dollars,” Mason answer
ed. “That’s the same amount Newt told me would be there.”

  “That makes even less sense,” Will said. “My father said over fifty thousand was taken. Where’s the rest of it?”

  “He must’ve hid the rest someplace else, probably because he hadn’t been honest with his partners about how much was really gonna be taken, knowin’ they’d want a bigger cut. He could easily have slipped that money outta the bank before the robbery.”

  “But why would he tell everyone there was fifty thousand stolen? That would for certain make folks suspicious, when we caught up with the robbers and only found five thousand on them. My father isn’t that stupid. He would have said only five thousand was gone.”

  “That would only have worked until the next time the state bank auditors showed up from Austin,” Mason answered. “My guess is the men who pulled off the actual holdup weren’t supposed to get caught. Your trackin’ ’em down, and Newt talkin’, blew your father’s plans sky high.”

  “I’m still not buyin’ it,” Will said. “You’re positive Newt named my father as behind the whole thing?”

  “Sure as I’m sittin’ here lookin’ at you.”

  “Max, I’m gonna need to talk to my father again, alone this time,” Will said. “After that, I’m gonna do a little more diggin’. Me’n my father might not’ve seen eye-to-eye, but I’d swear on my ol’ horse, Pete, that he had nothin’ to do with this holdup. And you know how fond I am of Pete.”

  “I reckon everyone in town is, Will.”

  “Good. Jonas, I want you to go to the telegraph office. Send a message to Cap’n Hunter. Tell him we caught the hombres who held up the bank, but there’s still a few loose ends to be tied up. Meet me back at the house. If you get there before I do, wait for me.”

  “I’ll do just that,” Jonas promised.

  “I’m obliged,” Will said. “Art, you seem to have done a good job figurin’ out this case, and I’m grateful. But there’s still a couple pieces of the puzzle missin’. I hope you don’t take offense at my takin’ over for you.”

  “Not at all,” Mason answered. “Your father is a bit of a stuffed shirt, but he loaned my family money when my ma was sick last year, and when she died, he told my pa not to worry about payin’ the loan back on time, just get some money to him every month. If I hadn’t found that money in the root cellar, I’d never have believed he was behind this, either.”

  “Thanks, Art. Max, I’m gonna talk to my father now. Oh, before I forget, when’s the next stage for Austin?”

  “In two days. Why?”

  “I’m gonna send a telegram today to my family’s attorney in Austin, but I also need to send him a letter explaining the details of my father’s arrest, and ask him to arrange bail.”

  Will went back to the row of cells, shutting the heavy oak door which separated them from the office behind him.

  “William,” his father said, morosely. “Is there any way you can get me out of this predicament? I didn’t want to say anything in front of the others, but things look bad for me, don’t they?”

  “They do,” Will answered. “But don’t worry. I know for a fact you weren’t involved in this robbery. I’m pretty sure I know who was behind it. However, I’ll need your cooperation to prove it. Can I count on that?”

  “If you can save me from prison, and clear my good name, I’ll do anything you ask, son.”

  “Good. Can you tell me anything I need to know about that day that you haven’t already told Art Mason?”

  “Not a thing that I can recall,” Silas answered.

  “All right. I’ll read his report for your statement. In the meantime, I’m going to have to act like I believe you might be guilty, if I have any chance of flushing out the man I’m after. That means you’ll have to stay in jail for a little while.”

  “How long?”

  “Two, three days at the most,” Will answered. “Can you do that?”

  “If it will bring the real mastermind to justice, yes.”

  “Good. Whatever you may hear in the next day or so, just ignore it. And Father…”

  “Yes, William?”

  “It’s more than just a prison sentence you have to worry about. With Newt Haines bein’ gunned down durin’ the holdup, if I can’t force the real culprit’s hand, you’ll most likely be hung for murder.”

  ****

  When Will arrived back home, his mother and Jonas were sitting side by side, in rockers on the front porch.

  “William,” she cried, rushing down the front walk to meet him. “Jonas has told me what happened. I’ve been frantic waiting for your return. The whole family has been. Is it true you don’t believe your father is guilty?”

  “Not for one damn minute,” Will answered. “Pardon me, Mother.”

  “Under the circumstances, your language is understandable,” Claudette said. “What are we going to do?”

  “I’m gonna prove Father is innocent, and prove who the real culprit is,” Will said. “I’m not gonna tell you don’t worry, because I know you can’t help it. Frankly, I’m worried too. I don’t know if I’ll be able to find the proof I need or not. But with any luck, I’ll have this whole matter cleared up in a couple of days. Can you be strong until then?”

  “Of course I can, William. I do hope you can get this straightened out before Susan and Harvey return from New Orleans. It would just about kill Susan to find out her father has been accused of robbery and murder.”

  “If everything goes right, I’ll have Father out of jail and the hombre I’m after behind bars well before that,” Will answered. “Where are Bertram and Gerard?”

  “At the bank, of course.”

  “Good. I’ll need to speak with them once they get home. How about the rest of the family? Where are my aunts and uncles?”

  “They’re probably still at the hotel, waiting for Buck from the livery stable to pick them up. They agreed to stay with me, once their time at the hotel ran out, since we had no idea when you might be back. They should be here shortly.”

  “That’s great,” Will said. “I didn’t get as much of a chance to chat with them at the wedding as I’d have liked. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Mother, it’s been an exhausting few days. I’d like to go up to my room, clean up a bit, and take a nap.”

  “I think that’s an excellent idea, William. You do look a bit peaked.”

  “If I only look ‘a bit peaked’ after what I’ve been through the last several days, then I look damn good, considerin’,” Will answered. “Pardon my language again. Jonas?”

  “Yeah, Will?”

  “I’ve got a few things to go over with you, then I’m gonna head upstairs.”

  “That sounds like a fine idea,” Jonas said. “I’m plumb tuckered out myself. Soon as we’re done talkin’, I’m gonna stretch out under that big cottonwood in the back yard, and sleep until tomorrow…or at least, ’til suppertime.”

  14

  Two days later, Silas Kirkpatrick still languished in a jail cell, refused bail even to see his brother Samuel, sister Louise, his wife’s brother Henri, and their spouses off on their way home. The rest of the Kirkpatrick family was at the Wells Fargo stage depot, except for the honeymooners.

  “I’ve got to go inside and talk to the agent for a minute,” Will said. “I’ll be right back. The stage won’t be rollin’ out for a couple more minutes.”

  He disappeared inside the depot, while the driver and shotgun guard continued to load the passengers’ luggage.

  “Any more bags?” the drive called out, as he put the last suitcase in place on the roof of the coach.

  “I’ve got one more,” Will called from the door or the depot. He came out, carrying a large valise.

  “Uncle Martin, you nearly left this behind,” he said.

  “That’s not mine,” his uncle answered.

  “Sure it is. See, right here on the baggage tag. ‘Martin Roberts, Austin, for transfer to Texas and Pacific Railway, through to Shreveport, then connecting to Memphis.’ It mu
st be yours.”

  “There has to be some mistake,” Roberts said. “I’ve never seen that bag before in my life.”

  “There’s one way to find out,” Will said. “Shall we open it, and see if the contents belong to you?”

  “No. I mean, give me that bag,” Roberts ordered. He snatched the valise from Will’s grasp. When Will started for his gun, Roberts swung the valise in a wide arc. Its metal reinforced corner caught Will in his left temple.

  Will dropped into a pit of darkness, blood streaming from his torn open scalp. He never saw his Uncle Martin start to run, nor heard Jonas’s order for him to stop. He never saw his uncle, instead of obeying Jonas’s order, spin around as he pulled a gun from inside his jacket, and take a snap shot at Jonas. His bullet tore a hole through Jonas’s left arm, then Jonas returned his fire, putting two bullets into Roberts’s chest.

  Will never saw the valise burst open when his uncle dropped it as he fell to the ground, spilling thousands of dollars in wrapped bills, nor the marshal and deputy have to fire several times over the heads of bystanders who raced to pick up the money. He never heard the shrieking of his shocked family, nor the yells of the Wells Fargo driver as he fought to control his panicked team, and keep them from going into a runaway.

  Will just lay where he had fallen, as still as death.

  ****

  When Will finally regained consciousness, he was in his own bed. Doctor Wilson was with him. He could feel the pressure of a bandage wrapped around his head.

  “Will, hello. Good to see you coming around. For a while, it was touch-and-go,” the doctor said. “I was really afraid you were going to leave us. I know this is a rather silly question, but how do you feel?”

  “Like a horse sat on my head,” Will answered. “What the hell happened, Doc? The last thing I remember is my uncle swingin’ his case at me, then my head explodin’.”

  “Let me just do a couple of quick tests first, then, if you seem all right, I’ll allow your partner and family in for a short visit. They can explain everything to you, but first, I need to make certain you haven’t been concussed.”