by Neil Hunter
Jason Brand’s latest assignment took him into the San Juan Mountains of New Mexico. He was looking for a Deputy US Marshal and a government geologist, both of whom had gone missing. But what should have been a routine assignment turned out to be anything but—with an unexpected surprise for him along the way.
Bodie the Stalker, on a hunt for a brutal killer, rode the same trail. For him it was just another manhunt … until he found himself on the wrong end of the chase.
Then there was the Monk clan …
They were a family that had no time for visitors because they had secrets to hide and were more than prepared to kill in order to keep them.
But then Bodie met Brand. And when they joined forces, the Monks found themselves fighting for their lives.
Brand and Bodie—when they teamed up it was like hell had come to the high country.
It became Two Guns North with all guns blazing.
TWO GUNS NORTH
BODIE MEETS BRAND:
By Neil Hunter
Copyright © 2015 by Neil Hunter
First Smashwords Edition: August 2015
Names, characters and incidents in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information or storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.
This is a Piccadilly Publishing Book ~*~ Text © Piccadilly Publishing
Series Editor: Ben Bridges
Published by Arrangement with the Author.
Chapter One
‘Hai!’
The triumphant cry rang out loud and clear. It was followed by the sound of a human form striking the padded mat covering the floor of the gymnasium.
‘You are improving,’ the Japanese instructor, Kito, said. ‘Today you fall down like expert!’
Jason Brand glared up at the impassive face of the Japanese from his position on the mat. If there was one thing he couldn’t stand it was Kito’s sense of humor. It was most definitely weird.
‘All for today,’ Kito pronounced sharply.
Brand climbed to his feet and faced the instructor across the mat, returning Kito’s ceremonial bow.
‘Today you are good,’ Kito said seriously, and coming from him it was praise indeed. ‘Always must practice.’
Brand nodded. He turned and left the gymnasium, making his way to the changing room. He’d known the moment he had stepped on the mat that he was fully fit again. The long weeks of training, the punishing exercise each and every day, had burned away the lethargy that had settled over him on his return to Washington. The affair in Montana, and the shock of his returning memory, had finally caught up with him. Plus the wounding he had received at the hands of Jerome Cortland during their final confrontation. His body had simply rebelled and it had taken long weeks for Brand to recover. With Virginia Maitland back in New York, with a possible trip back to London in order to finalize the affairs of the company she had inherited and almost lost, Brand was not going to see much of her in the next months. She had put off dealing with her business until Brand had recovered enough for her to leave.
Now he was feeling better. Stronger—impatient even—and ready for a new assignment, though to himself only would he admit to succumbing to moments of doubt. When he felt the dull, nagging headaches that returned sporadically. They were not as bad as they had been and he was able to function normally. He kept the information to himself, not wanting to give any suggestions he still suffered from them. If he had mentioned the headaches to the department doctor he might have been pulled back out of service. Brand didn’t want that. He wanted—needed—to be back on the job. So he put up with the discomfort. Concealed it and kept it to himself.
He was sure McCord had something for him. The summons to his office had been short and sweet, and Brand was sure he knew what that meant. The thought excited him. It would good to be back in the field. Cooped up as he had been for the last long weeks Brand felt like a wild pony that had been penned in, deprived of its natural habitat. Now he sensed the gate being opened and he was ready to be off.
He had a quick wash, dried and dressed, then made his up from the gym. Bright sunlight glanced in through the windows as he made his way along the empty corridor to McCord’s office. He knocked sharply on the door and went in.
McCord was leaning back in his seat, gazing out of his window, and looking almost benevolent. Almost. Brand sat down and stretched his long legs, studying his boots and decided it was time he bought some new ones.
‘Feeling fit enough to take on the world, are we?’ McCord asked without moving from his comfortable position.
‘A small part of it maybe,’ Brand answered.
McCord grunted and straightened up, swiveling his chair around to face Brand across his desk. He opened a folder on his desk, peering at the contents as if he had never seen them before. He cleared his throat.
‘Two months ago a government geologist, Joseph Calvin, making a field study in the San Juan range, simply vanished. His reports stopped coming back to Washington. He failed to keep in contact with his family, which for him was completely out of character. When his disappearance became too obvious to ignore any longer an attempt was made to locate him. A Deputy US Marshal in the New Mexico area at the time was assigned to look into the matter. Name of Hec Rankin. He also disappeared. A geologist failing to maintain contact is one thing. The disappearance of a professional lawmen is too much of a coincidence.’
Brand stood up and crossed to the large map pinned to the wall. He circled an area with his finger. ‘It’s a hell of a big area. And high mountain country, too. You could lose an army in there and never find it.’
‘I’m sure you’ll find a way to locate those missing men,’ McCord said. ‘There could be a simple explanation to the whole thing. On the other hand it might be more involved. But we have been requested to look into it, so we do just that.’
‘When do I leave?’
‘Travel arrangements have all been taken care off. When you reach Santa Fe you’ll find a horse ready for you to pick up. All the details are in the file.’ McCord slid the folder across the desk for Brand to pick up. ‘I’m beginning to think I make life too easy for you people. Perhaps it’s time I stopped looking after you so much. This assignment is one my maiden Aunt could take on.’
Brand was still grinning long after he had left McCord’s office. He took a stroll down to the firing range that was located in the cellars beneath the main building. Here he spent some time with the armorer, Whitehead. The stocky, gray haired man knew more about guns and their uses than any man Brand had known. He looked after the weapons of all McCord’s operatives.
‘I hear you’re off in the morning,’ Whitehead said as Brand appeared in the door of his workshop.
‘Everything ready?’
Whitehead nodded briskly. ‘Both handguns and your rifle.’ He reached across his bench and selected the weapons from the selection on display.
Brand took his .45 caliber Colt Peacemaker, fingers curling around the slightly grained wood grips. The raised grain allowed him a better grip on the wood. The moment he picked it up the gun became an extension of his hand. It was familiar, comfortable in his grasp. He tried the action and found it smooth, the trigger dropping the hammer at the slightest increase of pressure from his finger. Now Whitehead passed across the Colt special. It had started out as a standard .45 caliber Colt. Whitfield had adapted it by cutting down the barrel to two inches, requiring the removal of the ejector sleeve and rod. The fore-section
of the trigger guard had also been cut away, allowing easy access to the trigger itself. The butt grips had also been shaved down and shaped to fit Brand’s hand. Brand had used the weapon on a number of occasions, and despite its limitations it had proved to be an effective, close-quarter weapon. It was a strictly experimental adaptation Whitehead had created for Brand, more for the armorer’s pleasure than anything. Brand had used one previously and since he had been deprived of the weapon Whitehead had built him another.
‘Try not to lose this one,’ Whitehead said.
‘Do my best.’
Brand took the guns, and additional boxes of cartridges. He made his way to the firing range and spent a half hour shooting at paper targets. His ears rang from the echoing blast of the shots that were magnified by the confining walls of the cellar.
‘Satisfactory?’ Whitehead asked when Brand returned to the workshop.
‘Yeah,’ Brand said.
He collected his rifle, more ammunition, and made his way back outside. Returning to his room he began to pack for his trip.
~*~
Fine rain was drifting out of a gray sky as Brand’s train pulled out of the Washington depot. After a final conference with McCord he had had left for the depot early, eating breakfast at a small restaurant nearby. Now, as the train chugged and clanked its way from the city, Brand settled back in his seat. The prospect of the long journey ahead did little to raise his spirits.
He stared the length of the Pullman car. It was empty save for a middle aged, prosperous looking couple down at the far end. Brand stirred restlessly. There was nothing else for it. He was just going to have to put up with his own company.
The door at the far end of the car opened and the Conductor came through. He spoke briefly to the couple, then made his way along the swaying car to where Brand sat.
‘Mr. Brand?’
‘Yeah.’
The conductor scratched his chin. ‘I, er, got a young feller back there wants to talk to you. Says it’s important.’
‘So?’
‘See, he’s from third class. Company regulations and all...well, he ain’t supposed to even set foot inside a Pullman car.’
‘He give you a name?’ Brand asked. Glancing past the conductor he could see a vague, featureless figure standing on the opposite side of the glass topped compartment door. ‘Say why he wants to see me?’
The conductor shook his head. ‘No, sir. He won’t tell me a thing ’cept he has to see you. I got the feeling he’s pretty serious about it, though.’
Brand took out his wallet and slid out a ten-dollar bill. He folded it and pressed it into the conductor’s willing palm.
‘Those regulations. I figure we can bend ’em a little?’
The conductor smiled. ‘Sure. I guess so.’
Brand watched him walk back down to the end of the car and open the door. He said something to the waiting figure, then stepped aside and let him through. The young man who entered the car hesitated for a moment, eyes roving back and forth. Then he moved along the car, long legs carrying him quickly to stand in front of Brand.
He was close on eighteen, his tanned face yet to see its first growth of whiskers. He was holding his battered hat in his hands. A thick mass of dark hair, shaggy around the collar of his worn short coat, fell low across his forehead. His mouth was firm, held in a taut line that might have indicated barely contained anger. But it was the eyes that attracted Brand’s attention more than anything. They were a sharp, piercing shade of blue. The boy was staring through them at Brand as if he was looking deep into his very soul. Something in the earnest expression unsettled and intrigued Brand.
‘Conductor said you wanted to talk to me.’
The boy nodded. ‘Yes, sir.’
His accent was foreign to this part of the country. It placed him from the Southwest. New Mexico maybe. Or even somewhere in West Texas.
Brand smiled at the boy’s monosyllabic reply.
‘You got the better of me, boy. You know who I am, but you didn’t give a name to the conductor. Be easier if I knew who you are.’
‘Well, ma called me Adam,’ the boy said. ‘So I guess that makes my full name Adam Brand. I’m your son!’
Chapter Two
Smoke from the locomotive whipped by the rain-streaked window. The wheels had settled into a steady rattle. A rhythmic, repetitive sound. The Pullman car swayed gently as the train took a curve, soft green hills seeming to swell up on either side as the tracks cut through a wide embankment.
Staring up at the boy Jason Brand flicked a hand in the direction of the seat facing him. He watched the boy sit down, aware of a familiarity in the young face, and realized with a shock he was looking at himself. Or how he had looked eighteen years ago.
‘Eighteen-seventy,’ the boy said. ‘The Comanch’ took you captive after they killed your family. They took you to a camp on the Llano. Quanah Parker was there. The Comanche who led the raid had already taken your sister there. His name was Three Finger. He…he murdered your sister before you could get her away. But you escaped with a girl you met in the camp. Another captive. Lisa Hoyle…’
The years slipped away, layers of his mind peeling back, letting the memories of that time return. Brand had no difficulty in recalling the events, the places, the people…
…the girl had brought him food, kneeling before him in the dust of Three Finger’s camp. She was young, his own age, and she was naked, her lithe, long limbed body firmly developed. Her cropped hair was fair under the matted dirt, her eyes a startling shade of blue…
‘I don’t even know your name,’ she had said later.
‘Jason Brand.’
‘I’m Lisa Hoyle.’
She had been with him when he had made his break from the camp. Too late to save his sister, Liz, from the Comanche called Three Finger. Yet they had survived. Fighting the land and the relentless pursuit of the savage Three Finger, their desperate situation drawing them close. Brand had killed the Comanche…but more violence had reared its head when they had reached the refuge of a dirty border town and a trio of local hard case had tried to take Lisa from Brand. He had been pushed into using the violent skills that were to become almost a curse throughout his life.
In that little town without a name, in a small room, the closeness that had grown during their long flight from captivity spilled over into a physical need. They had made love with the urgent passion of the young, tasting new sensations, seeking more of the same until there had been no more to give, nothing more to be taken. Yet even that time had ended in bitterness, a rift growing between them because of Brand’s burning desire for vengeance against the men who had deserted his family in their time of need, and Lisa’s reluctance to accept his violent ways.
‘Surely you can go to the law? Or the Army? Can’t you?’ she asked.
‘And what would they do? Stick up a few posters. Hell, Lisa, I could get to be an old man waiting for something to happen.’
‘You could get to be a very dead young man the way you’re acting.’
‘My folks are dead. If those three bastards had stuck with us I might still have family. I don’t figure to forget that. I won’t forget even when those three are dead and buried.’
‘I think you’re wrong, Jason, terribly wrong. All you’re doing is living on bitterness. On hatred. It’s no way to exist.’
‘I don’t reckon I have to listen to you. Ain’t nobody’s business but mine what I do with my life. You should of left it alone, Lisa. Now it’s between us.’
And it had remained between them up until the time Brand left Lisa with relatives in El Paso. Brand had exorcised her from his life, moving on, and as the years passed she had become little more than a memory.
‘And she wouldn’t let anyone in the family tell you about me,’ the boy was saying.
Brand dragged himself back to the present, aware of the boy, Adam’s, intense stare.
‘Did she still hate me that much?’ he asked.
Adam shook
his dark head. ‘I don’t think she ever hated you at all. It was what she saw in you that scared her. All she ever wanted was peace and quiet. She used to say you were so full of revenge and violence. She’d seen too much of that herself.’
Brand didn’t need to question that. He recalled how Lisa had made her feelings known on the matter.
‘Where is she now?’ he asked.
The boy was silent for a moment, staring out at the green countryside blurring past the window.
‘She died eight months back. She’d been ill for a couple of years on and off. Some kind of lung disease the doctor said. They did what they could but…’
‘I wish she’d got in touch,’ Brand said. ‘I would have come to see you both.’ The moment he uttered the words Brand felt like a fraud. He realized how false they sounded. ‘Hell, boy, you got to give me a chance to take it in. Isn’t every day a man comes face to face with a son he never knew he had. Especially when he’s near enough full grown as well.’
‘I was going to write,’ Adam said. ‘Then I figured there was a better way.’ He paused, adding, ‘Anyhow I wanted to meet you.’
‘What about Lisa’s kin?’
‘Aunt Laura died five years back. Uncle Ben still has the store. He had to take on a feller to run it when I said I didn’t want to work behind a counter.’
‘Didn’t he want you to stay?’
‘He knew I was restless. I told him how I felt about looking for you and he said it was time I did something about it.’ Adam gave an embarrassed smile. ‘So here I am.’
‘How long you been looking?’
‘Close on four months. You move around a lot. And you keep vanishing.’
It was Brand’s turn to smile. ‘It’s something my job makes me do.’
‘That’s what Colonel Mundy told me.’
‘Alex Mundy?’
Adam nodded. ‘I met him a few weeks back. When I told him who I was he said he’d help. He told me the work you do means you have stay in the shadows, and he made me promise not to say anything about what he told me.’
