Brand 10

by Neil Hunter

  Chapter Two

  Forty-six hours later Jason Brand stepped down from the special train that had brought him to Handy. It was early morning. He felt lightheaded as he stepped from the coach and walked down to the locomotive to shake hands with the crew who stared at him through red-rimmed eyes, faces grimed and sweating.

  ‘That was some wild ride, fellers,’ he said. ‘Much appreciated. Now you go sleep it off in the hotel. Courtesy of Senator Beauchamp. Everything on the house.’ He stepped back to look over the gleaming, dirt streaked locomotive. ‘Hell of a beast you got there, Mr. Jenks.’

  ‘She is that, son, and proud of here.’

  Brand made his way into Handy, still taking in the hectic ride he’d spent in the coach. Beauchamp had made sure it had been supplied with food and drink for the trip so Brand hadn’t gone hungry. The Pullman coach had been equipped with a compact kitchen and he had been able to make himself coffee on the installed stove. It made him appreciate how the wealthy lived.

  From Washington the special had rolled through the empty miles of Virginia, picking up the pace as they moved west and south, diverting to spur lines and main tracks. Tennessee and on into Mississippi and through Louisiana and finally crossing into east Texas. Along way the train paused only to pick up water and fuel, resting for short periods so the crew could take coffee and food from Brand. Then on again, building up speed as they pushed ever forward. Through changing landscapes. Some green. Others showing miles of emptiness. Flashing by isolated settlements and across the miles that brought them ever closer to their final destination. Smoke and spark steamed from the loco’s stack

  For Brand, with nothing to do but endure the hours, he found himself thinking about the two people who meant so much to him.

  Virginia and Adam. With little else to fill his mind he concentrated on them. Wishing he was with them and wondering how long it might be until he was with them.

  He had no idea how long that would be. The week he had spent with his son Adam had been reasonably relaxed, following the events in New Mexico. Shortly after meeting Adam for the first time with the revelation the boy was his son, Brand’s mission had taken him into the high mountains. A hoped-for routine mission had become a desperate struggle to stay alive, a teaming with the bounty man Bodie, and his son showing up in the middle of the deadly confrontation with the Monk clan, had made Brand aware his life was at odds with bringing up Adam.

  When it had been over, allowing Brand time with his son, a possible solution offered itself when Brand and Adam journeyed to New York and a meeting with Virginia Maitland. The business heiress, who had shared a dangerous mountain trek with Brand, was working at restoring her inherited empire and also cementing her relationship with Brand. They had both realized their feelings for each other and wanted to maintain it. Virginia had business matters to attend to that were going to demand she returned to England for some months. To Brand’s relief Virginia had been only too willing to have Adam accompany her when he had told her about his son and his concern for his well-being. Although Adam had been worried over her reaction he had taken to the young woman immediately. During the time they spent in New York, with Virginia showing them the city and introducing them to people she knew, Adam responded well and the proposed sea voyage across the Atlantic had sparked his imagination. By the time Brand returned to Washington, Virginia and Adam were on their way. He admitted to himself it was a great relief to know his son was safe and in good company.

  He found he was reliving those events. With little to distract him it became inevitable he would do just that.

  Time passed. Brand did his best to relax but found it hard. He was not a man who took to idleness. He needed to be involved. Trapped in the carriage’s confines was something he found discomforting. He drank a few glasses of the expensive whisky Beauchamp had supplied. Not enough to get drunk, but of sufficient quantity to make him relax and eventually sleep. He slept long and hard, waking to darkness and a heavy rainstorm. He stood at the closest window and peered out. Pouring rain hit the glass. Lightening forked over the low crown of hills they were speeding through. He felt the carriage rock under his feet. Idly wondered where they were but didn’t pursue the thought.

  The hours went by. Brand settled, then paced. Slept some more. Stretched his legs and spoke to the crew when they halted at some stop in the middle of nowhere to take on more water. The events took place a number of times as they gathered the long miles under the wheels of the train.

  And then they were in Texas. Their destination still a distance away but seemingly in sight. Finally the last stretch along a lonely line that ran through a dusty landscape that leveled out to an empty landscape beneath a wide, brassy blue sky, where the heat took on a relentless intensity.

  Handy came into view. A straggling clutch of weathered buildings. Signs they were in cattle country in the holdings pens. Corrals and freight sheds. The locomotive slowed and came to a steam billowing stop … and Brand’s arrival in town went unnoticed…

  The rail depot had an empty feeling to it. A window boarded up. No one around. After his leave taking of the train Brand walked up into Handy and picked out the hotel. He stepped up onto the boardwalk and went into the lobby.

  The man behind the desk glanced up. He had a weariness in his manner Brand couldn’t figure.

  ‘Name of Brand. You should have a reservation for me. It was wired in.’

  The man simply nodded, turned and took a key from the hook and passed it over. Brand signed the register. The key was handed over and Brand made his way up the stairs and located the room. He dropped his bag on the floor and crossed to the window, sliding it open to allow some fresh air in. Glancing across the street he spotted the marshal’s office. That would be his first call. Brand decided to freshen up first. The last stretch of his journey had been long and dusty. He took off the coat of his black suit and draped it across the bed, loosened his tie and opened the top button. There was water in the jug on the washstand. He tipped some into the bowl and sluiced his face. As he raised his head he caught sight of himself in the mirror. His image stared back at him. Brand ran a hand across his face, feeling the stubble there. He needed a shave. In fact he needed a hot bath. He slid into his coat and went downstairs, asking the clerk about the availability of a hot bath.

  ‘Freeman’s barber shop and bathhouse is just along the street. Take a left out the door.’

  Still the same distracted tone.

  Brand followed the directions and went into the establishment. When he stepped out an hour later he was clean shaved and considerably cleaner. Soaking out the stiffness from his coach ride Brand felt a whole lot better. While he’d been soaking the barber had his assistant brush down Brand’s suit and shirt. He was feeling almost human again. He decided he was ready to face the town’s lawman and crossed the street.

  Brand had noted the same atmosphere in the barber’s shop. Not the usual chatter from the man. He didn’t make anything of it – not right then. Not until he met and spoke to the town’s lawman.

  The office was no different to a hundred others Brand had been in. Functional. The furniture battered and ready for changing. The walls plastered with town regulations notices and wanted flyers. Potbellied stove supporting a blackened coffee pot issuing flavored steam. A gun rack on the wall next to the scarred and occupied desk.

  Handy’s marshal glanced up from a document he was reading as Brand stepped inside.

  ‘Marshal Hicks? Jason Brand.’

  Hicks pushed to his feet, reaching out to take Brand’s outstretched hand. He was a quiet looking man, graying hair and showing a slight paunch.

  ‘Weren’t certain sure when you was arriving,’ he said. ‘Even so I’m glad you’re here. Truth be told I ain’t ever had to handle anything like this afore. Handy is a peaceable place. You know what I mean?’ Hicks gestured for Brand to sit down.

  ‘Seems I’m missing something, Marshal. You want to tell me. Supposed to be meeting a couple of men here. You know whe
re they are?’

  Hicks froze for a moment, then said, ‘You won’t have heard. Travelling and all.’

  ‘I guessed there was something way people have been acting.’

  ‘Train that arrived yesterday was hit by armed men. Train crew was shot down, so were the station people. Two fellers in the special coach dead as well. Telegraph wires were pulled so we couldn’t send anything out until they were fixed. Soon as they were working again we got messages coming in. One of ’em said we should expect you. Seems your people had been expecting those two dead men to stop off here.’

  ‘They were Pinkerton agents.’

  ‘I know that now,’ Hicks said.

  Brand nodded, settling into a chair that actually had a padded leather cushion and back.

  Hicks maintained a constant flow of chatter as he attended to the coffee. It was out of pure nervousness. The man was way out of his depth and had the grace not to conceal it. He handed Brand a thick china mug as he walked back to his desk and sat down.

  ‘I was deputy to the town marshal and took over when he retired three years ago. There were some rough times back then but Jim Tanner handled it. By the time he handed over the job this town was so quiet it was hard to believe. Haven’t had a shooting in years. Then to have this happen. Well, I can tell you, sir, it set the town on its ear. Not just a shooting. It was pure slaughter. Never seen the like before, an’ I hope to never again.’

  Brand tasted his coffee. It was the first drink he’d had since alighting from the train.

  ‘Good coffee, Marshal.’

  ‘Hell, son, it’s Earl. And thank you for the compliment. Now what can I do to help you?’

  ‘Tell me what happened.’

  ‘Six people dead is what happened. Mr. Brand, I’m just a cowtown lawman. I’ll ain’t used to this kind of mess. And, hell, I never had so many telegraph messages since I don’t know when. First I get told you’re on your way and to let the detectives know when the train shows up. Only before we know it we have the train held up and people killed. Damnit, Mr. Brand, I know’d the engineer and the fireman. Both good men. Same as the conductor and the station master.’ Hicks gulped his coffee down, shaking his head. ‘And it’s not like I’m going to forget the way those Pinkerton fellers died. Throats cut like they was hogs in a slaughterhouse.’

  Brand could see how visibly shaken Hicks was by what had happened in his quiet, dusty town. Rowdy cowboys on a Saturday night was most likely the height of excitement in Handy.

  ‘This took us all by surprise,’ Brand said. ‘Intention was a peaceful meeting with those Pinkertons before we headed out.’

  ‘If this was supposed to be such an all fired secret,’ Hicks said, ‘how come those men knew those Pinkertons were coming to Handy to meet you? How come? Tell me that, Mr. Brand?’

  Brand had no immediate answer to Hicks’ question. He knew one thing for certain. Senator Beauchamp had an informant in his department. Someone able to learn about the meeting and pass it along to his contacts.

  He realized he needed to get in touch with McCord and let him know. Beauchamp was going to have to do some careful checking of his own people. It suggested that the group he was up against were organized enough to have someone in the Senator’s camp.

  ‘I’ll take a walk to the telegraph office,’ he told Hicks. ‘I need to let my chief know what’s happened.’

  ‘I’m sure you need to do that.’ Hicks paused before asking the question both of them knew was coming. ‘Mr. Brand, I understand from the way Washington acted there must have been something real important on that train. You know about it and can you tell me?’

  ‘There was and I’m not able to divulge what right now. Nothing personal, Earl, just the way I’ve been instructed.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ Hicks said, obviously disappointed. ‘Can’t add much more myself, but I can send for Toby Books and you can have a talk to him. Books is my deputy. Young feller, but a damn good tracker. He lit out after the hombres who done the crime and followed them until their trail vanished. That be a help, Mr. Brand?’

  Brand nodded. ‘Could be helpful.’

  ‘Time you get back from sending your message I should have Toby here.’

  ‘You help yourself to more coffee now. Won’t take me but a few minutes to round up Toby.’

  The office was still deserted when Brand returned from sending his report. He helped himself to more coffee and sat down again, and stretched his legs out.

  The office door opened and Earl Hicks came in, followed by a tall, lean younger man in dark pants and a Nankeen shirt that hung loosely on his slim torso. He had his hat in his hand and thick, dark hair tumbled across his forehead. As Hicks had said, Toby Books was young, his amiable face unlined and smooth. That didn’t faze Brand. He judged people by their actions, not their age.

  ‘Mr. Brand, this is Toby Books.’

  Brand stood and took the deputy’s outstretched hand. The man’s grip was firm and genuine.

  ‘Glad you’re here, sir,’ Books said. ‘Hope I can be of help.’

  ‘How far out did you follow those tracks, Mr. Books?’

  ‘Near full day. Until they just naturally played out. Lost ’em when they hit hardrock.’

  Brand indicated a map pinned to the wall behind Hicks’ desk. ‘You show me where?’

  Books crossed and stood at the map. He took a minute to establish the location, then placed a finger on the paper.

  ‘They took off more or less south. Kept in that direction for as long as I could track them.’ Books was nervously toying with the brim of his hat. ‘Hate to admit I lost ’em after that.’

  ‘Don’t feel bad about it, boy. You did well.’

  ‘One of their horses had a bad shoe. Right foreleg. Looked like it might have had a split in the metal. Left a distinct mark.’ He glanced at Hicks, then back to Brand. ‘That any help, Mr. Brand?’

  ‘Could be a real big help, Toby. Now, if they were to keep on south are there any places they might stop off? Towns? Way station?’

  Hicks crossed to the wall map and traced a line with his finger.

  ‘There’s a town here,’ he said. ‘It’s smaller than Handy. Called Little Creek on account of the actual crick that runs by on its way to the Brazos. It’s more of a supply place than a town. Big store that supplies cow outfits in the area.’

  ‘Hey, don’t forget Blanco,’ Books said.

  ‘Ain’t likely to forget that hog wallow,’ Hicks said. He tapped his finger on the map below Little Creek. ‘Way I see it a bunch of no goods who hit that train would feel right at home at Blanco. No law. The sort of place where a man can mix with his own kind and forget civilized rules, if you get my meaning.’

  He returned to sit at his desk.

  ‘Have to say you’ve given me some good pointers,’ Brand said. “I’m obliged to you both.’

  ‘Mr. Brand,’ Hicks said. ‘If you do stop off at Blanco you watch yourself. I called it a hog wallow. That was a disservice to hogs, if you know what I mean. ‘

  ‘I’ll watch my back, Marshal, and thanks for the advice.’

  Brand studied the map, looking beyond the spot Books had indicated.

  ‘Nothing much out that way,’ Hicks said. ‘Lots of empty country before you reach Mexico. You think they might be headed over the border?’

  ‘They stole something off that train and the suspicion is they knew what it was they were taking,’ Books added.

  Hicks saw Books was about to say something more. ‘No point asking, Toby. I already did but Mr. Brand here is not at liberty to tell us what was taken.’

  Books looked disappointed.

  ‘Sorry, Books, I got my orders.’

  Books shrugged. ‘Well, nice to have met you, Mr. Brand. I better get back out there. Work to be done. Good luck to you.’

  The deputy left the office.

  ‘Sound young feller,’ Brand said.

  ‘That he is,’ Hicks said. ‘You plan on picking up that trail and seein’ where it ta
kes you?’

  ‘Yeah. Right now that’s all I got.’

  ‘Any more I can do,’ Hicks said, ‘you just let me know.’

  ‘Point me in the direction of the best livery in town. I need to rent a good horse.’

  ‘I’ll do better. Jake Converse has the best horses in town. We can walk down to his place now.’

  Leaving the office they made their way to the west side of town and the big. Well-maintained stable. Hicks led the way inside and introduced Brand to the owner. Jake Converse was in his early fifties, a rawboned individual with a bald head and a large, drooping walrus mustache. His sturdy work clothes hung on his skinny frame.

  ‘Good to know you, Mr. Brand,’ he said. His voice was soft, his words clear though. When he took Brand’s hand his grip was surprisingly powerful.

  ‘Jake, Mr. Brand needs a good horse. Now against my better judgment I told him you were the best horse dealer in town, so don’t you let me down.’

  That brought a genuine laugh from Converse. ‘Hell, Mr. Brand, if I even imagined he meant even one word, I’d be mortal offended.’

  ‘I’m in your hands, Mr. Converse.’

  ‘Hell, son, it’s Jake. People start calling me Mister, I start to worry I’m getting’ old.’

  ‘I’ll leave you two to make your deal,’ Hicks said.

  ‘You a lawman?’ Converse asked as he led Brand into the depths of the livery. ‘Just curious is all.’

  ‘Kind of,’ Brand said.

  Converse a hand across his bald head. ‘Not bounty man else Earl wouldn’t have been so polite.’ He paused in mid-step. ‘You to do with the US Marshal Office?’

  ‘Somewhere south of that. I work out of Washington. Justice Department about covers it.’

  Converse’s eyes took on a conspiratorial gleam. ‘Well hell son, don’t need to say more. Come to look into that killin’ at the rail depot? Poor Earl ain’t got a notion how to handle it. Not that he could be blamed. It were all done and dusted by the time he got to the station. Young Toby followed the tracks until they wore out. Mebbe you wonder why Earl didn’t gather a posse and go after those fellers?’