"What I'm trying to figure out, Mr. Teasdale, is if the ranch sale and that ten-thousand has anything to do with the train robbery. Was somebody deliberately trying to snarl up the ranch sale? What do you think?"
"Could be. If anybody wanted that, it would be Doug Chandler. Much as I hate to say it." The man thought a minute then nodded. "Yeah, I'd say he is a good suspect. I told him that I'd worked out a deal with James. Even told him the day when the registered mail package was coming to town so he could get it at the post office. James really wants the ranch. He said he'd bring the contract down himself, but he had some important meetings that day, so he mailed it. Registered."
Spur nodded. "Well, I don't want to tire you out any more than I have. Good seeing you again, Mr. Teasdale. I'll let you know what we find out about the contract and the money."
Teasdale held up his hand as Spur headed for the door. "Just a minute, McCoy. You look like a good judge of horses and men. You saw the boy, Nate Emerson. What do you think?"
Spur smiled and took two steps back toward the invalid. "Mr. Teasdale, the young man looked to me like he loves horses. Every rancher should love his mounts. I'd say that's about as good a starting place as you can have with a young man. Now, teach him all you know about ranching and I'd say you have a winner."
"What about Chandler?"
Spur took a deep breath and looked away. "Your business, Mr. Teasdale. I'd figure you have a will. You could make some kind of a division of the ranch and only a little cash money to Chandler. But, like I say, that's your business."
Teasdale waved at Spur and he went out and found his horse.
He was part way up the 20 miles to the railroad summit, but he reversed his field and rode back to town. There was plenty of time, and he'd rather ride the train 20 miles than ride it on his horse. He snorted. That was a sure sign he wasn't a kid anymore.
Spur made it to the station a half-hour before the train arrived at 8 p.m. on its way north. He sent a progress report telegram to General Halleck in Washington hoping it would keep his Secret Service boss happy.
The conductor said the water tower at the summit was just past the 22 mile marker. Spur would be sure when they got there. If he went to sleep, the conductor would awaken him. Spur looked at the written instructions the kidnappers had wired to the state Attorney General:
"BRING PAYMENT FOR MERCHANDISE IN LEATHER CASE. LEAVE FIFTY YARDS SOUTH OF WATER TOWER IN CLEARED SPACE TWENTY YARDS FROM TRACKS. AFTER DEPOSITING PAYMENT, RETURN TO THE TRAIN AT ONCE. NO DELAYS PERMITTED. YOUR MERCHANDISE WILL BE BROUGHT TO TRAIN AT FIRST PASSENGER CAR NEAR WATER TOWER. NO MISTAKES."
Spur read the copy of the telegram and pushed it back in his pocket. Fifty-yards south of the water tank. Easy enough. Twenty-yards from the tracks. Was there already a cleared spot there, or would the kidnappers make one? How were they getting Amy Hellman from Fort Smith, if that's indeed where she still was, to the water tower?
Had they gone up on a morning train and got off there? Maybe a buggy road ran nearby from Fort Smith up to the small towns between there and Fayetteville. Maybe.
Spur gave up and relaxed. Soon the train slowed and outside he could see the red lanterns of the trainmen as the long string of cars slowed to a stop near the shadows of a water tower.
Spur slipped off with his small carpetbag and walked up to the tower. He watched the men lower the spout into the engine and fill it up with water to replace that used on the long haul up the hill. He left the tower and paced off 50-yards down the tracks, and looked across the right of way. Even in the faint moonlight, he could tell there was no kind of clearing there. It was a brushy patch that would take a lot of work to cut down small shrubs and trees to make a clearing even ten-feet wide.
Spur faded away from the tracks into the brush. A few minutes later he heard the train start up and roll up the last few feet of the grade, then start the downhill run to Fayetteville. He found a faint animal trail and used it to get a quarter-of-a-mile into the trees and brush. He found a spot under a large tree that was shielded by brush and spread out his blanket. He'd have a nap and then listen to the night sounds.
He hoped he'd hear someone chopping brush, but he figured he wouldn't. The train had taken almost an hour to climb the 22 miles to the summit. The one in the morning would probably go at the same speed which meant the State Attorney General and the money should arrive at the Casper summit about seven o'clock. It would be full light by then.
It didn't give the kidnappers much time to make a clearing. Or were the instructions meant to be confusing? Once the man with the money stepped off the train and headed south, it would be easy for the kidnappers to appear out of the brush, grab the money, knock down the messenger and vanish back into the brush that grew up to the right-ofway along much of the area south of the water tank.
He stopped evaluating the situation and listened. A night bird of some sort called for its mate. Far off he heard an answering call. He heard a coyote give his mournful wail. It started a whole chorus of coyotes until he thought he was at a concert in the Back Bay Boston Park.
Nowhere did he hear anything but the natural night woods sounds. He sniffed and now that the train smoke had blown away, he could not detect any smell of wood smoke. That could mean the kidnappers weren't in the area, or they didn't have a fire, or that he was upwind of any such wood smoke.
Spur settled down on his blanket. It was another warm night. He set his mental alarm clock for five a.m. and closed his eyes. He would be asleep almost at once and be surprised when he awoke in the morning.
There were no signs of dawn when he awoke. He figured it was four o'clock, but didn't bother to check his pocket watch. That would mean striking a match and might give his position away. He rolled up his blanket and put it in the carpetbag. He checked his six-gun and added a sixth cartridge to the cylinder, then eased the hammer down on the live round.
He chewed on some jerky and a biscuit he had brought from the hotel kitchen, and moved down the trail toward the tracks. Spur stopped and listened. A squirrel chattered somewhere in a tree. He could hear some small feet scampering through the brush, maybe a rabbit out for an early morning feeding on tender shoots of grass.
He moved slowly so he wouldn't make any noise. It took nearly a half hour to walk to where he could see the shining rails in the moonlight. He was well south of the water tower and moved north to about where he had been the night before.
Spur lay in the grass and leaf mulch listening. He was close enough now so any preparations should be within earshot. Nothing moved, no sounds came except natural ones. He moved another ten-yards toward the tower.
Faint streaks of light penetrated the blackness. The streaks became swaths and then a general brightening until in one instant, it was dawn. The tracks gleamed below him. He was on a rise about 30-feet above the tracks. He could see nothing out of place around the water tower.
When would the morning train arrive? Furi ously, he tried to remember where the passenger cars had been. Yes, up front, near the engine and wood car, just in back of the Railway Express car. Passenger cars always were before freight cars. So the money man would be getting off three or four cars back from the tower.
It was full light now and Spur burrowed deeper behind some grass and weeds so he couldn't be seen. He was disappointed. He had fully expected to see some activity here by the kidnappers, unless they came up on the same train that the money man did. That would solve a big problem of transportation for them. He scowled hoping it wasn't so.
He was sure that Alger wouldn't think to search the passenger cars on the way up to the water tower. Amy Hellman could be in a disguise with a long dark wig, a big hat and dark glasses. Damnit! That could be it.
But once they got off the train to pick up the money, what would they do then?
The slight sound in the background had been nudging at his consciousness and now it came full blown. A horse blew somewhere in back of the water tower.
Yes! Someone would meet them here
with horses and they would ride away with the money. Spur changed directions, pulled back and worked north toward the rise behind the water tank. A spring up there somewhere must supply water to the tank so there would be a trail of sorts.
He worked forward silently, using his Indian training, never breaking a stick, never putting his foot down until he knew it was safe.
It took him a half-hour to move the 60-yards to where he guessed the horses must be. He came to a small opening and there, with heads down, were two horses nibbling on the summer grass. Spur froze behind a tree and peered around it at ground level. He was still well concealed.
A man cleared his throat and Spur saw a puff of blue smoke behind and to the right of the horses. One man sat there smoking. He had his eyes closed, Spur guessed, taking it easy until the train came when someone he expected would come racing up the trail with a leather bag filled with money.
Spur plotted his course. He had to work around the clearing, a small natural mountain meadow, and come up on the man with total surprise from behind. He hoped he had enough time. He checked his pocket Waltham. It showed five minutes after six.
The train had just left Fort Smith heading north. He hoped that it wasn't early.
Twenty minutes later, Spur had worked to within ten-feet of the dozing cowboy. The man wore a cowboy hat, boots, range clothes and a red bandanna at his throat, handy if a mask were needed.
Spur rested a minute, then crawled ahead.
When Spur was six-feet from the man, the cowboy yawned, growled and swore, then stood up. He had a six-gun on his hip and a rifle near at hand.
Spur stood and charged the man, hitting him with his shoulder in the middle of his back just as the man evidently heard Spur and tried to turn. They both went down with Spur sprawled on top of the cowboy. Spur wrapped his arm around the man's throat and pulled hard.
"Easy, friend, or I'll strangle you," Spur growled. "You want to be just caught or wind up dead?"
The man below Spur went limp in answering. Spur eased up on the stranglehold, pulled the man's arms behind him and tied them with a piece of leather boot lacing from his pocket. He stood, rolled the man over and stared at him. He'd never seen him before in his life.
"What are you doing here?" Spur asked.
"I'm hunting deer. Trail over there they always come down."
"Where's your rifle?" Spur asked.
"Right behind you."
"And why do you have two horses?"
"One to haul the deer out on. I live ten miles from here. I ain't about to drag a gutted buck ten miles."
Spur heard the train whistle down the tracks. Spur laughed at the man's explanation and tied his feet with another piece of leather boot lace.
"Now, tell me why you're really here. Who are you meeting here when the train stops for water?"
"Nobody, damnit. I'm deer hunting."
"Sure you are, and I'm Abe Lincoln brought back to life."
Spur could hear the train engine laboring up the incline. He took the man's kerchief and tied it around his neck and across his open mouth in a safe gag. He could still make some sounds, but not yell.
"You have any kind of a signal?" Spur asked. The man on the ground shook his head. "I bet."
Spur looked at the horses. They were safe enough. He walked down the faint trail along a pipe that carried water to the storage tank.
He figured he was still 50-yards from the tracks when he heard the train grind to a halt at the water tower below. He was maybe 50-feet higher than the tracks. That's when he remembered that the telegram said to leave the money 50-yards south of the water tower.
How was the kidnapper going to pick up the money and come up here to the horses? Easy. Run through the brush. That way he'd keep any chase away from the spot where the horses were.
Spur ran down the trail another 30-yards, staying out of sight of the train and stopped behind some thick brush. He could see the trainmen lowering the water spout and turning on the flow.
He looked down the tracks, saw the second and last passenger car and the conductor who stepped down checking his watch. What had happened south of here?
Spur waited. He heard some commotion to the south, then one shot fired and the faint sounds of someone running through the brush. The sounds came closer, then stopped. Spur frowned, then heard a mourning dove's call. Hoo, hoo, hoooooo.
That was the signal. Spur tried to do the call and knew he had fumbled it terribly. The running sounds came again but seemed to be going away from him, then circled above him. The horses!
Spur pulled his six-gun and ran flat out up the partly overgrown trail. He had another 40-feet to go when he heard saddle leather creak and then the sound of horse shoes hitting the ground and fading. He stormed into the small clearing and found one horse munching away and the man lying on the ground trying to laugh.
Spur untied the man and marched him down to the train leading the horse behind him.
Fiorello Alger and the conductor stood beside the engine arguing. They both looked up when they saw Spur and his prisoner.
"Lost him," Spur said. "This one rode in with a horse for him and he went around me and got away. No chance I can track him in these damn hills. You get the girl?"
Alger scowled and hit the engine with his hand.
"Yeah, we got her. She'd been riding in the first passenger car and none of us thought to check it. She said she was held at knife point all the time, but she couldn't identify the man who held her.
"I put the money at the spot and somebody picked it up. I got off one shot but I was too far away. I should have had a pair of sharpshooters with rifles trained on the spot."
"So he got the money, and you have the daughter," Spur said. "Worked out just the way you wanted it to. Let's get this horse in one of those empty stock cars and we'll ride into Fayetteville and then back on the next train south. Gives me plenty of time to use my best torture methods on this prisoner. Come to think of it, I better do that in a stock car as well. I hate getting blood over all those nice upholstered seats."
The horse was put on board the train and it headed on north. Spur had relented and the prisoner was put in the end of the passenger car. The ticket holding riders were asked to move to the front of the coach.
Spur pushed the man who said his name was Sully into the seat and loomed over him.
"Who hired you to bring the horse to this spot?"
"No one, I was out hunting. I always get a deer this time of year and my favorite mount spooks if I try to carry the dead animal on it back to my cabin."
"What's your name again?"
"Sully. Sully Whisper."
"You rode up here from Fort Smith, right?"
"No. I live in the woods about five miles back. Hunt and fish, do odd jobs now and again for pocket money. Name's Sully."
"Where did you get the two-hundred dollars in your pocket? That's more than half-a-year's wages for an honest man."
"I got lucky at a poker game in Chester, up the tracks."
Spur looked at the conductor who was watching. "We stop at this Chester place?"
"Flag stop. Won't stop unless they put out the flag."
"Signal the conductor to stop, flag or no flag. We'll get off there and wait for a southbound."
Attorney General Alger had been at the other end of the car talking quietly with Amy Hellman. She had assured them right away that she was fine, no harm had come to her and that her kidnappers treated her kindly. She whispered to Alger that she hadn't been raped or molested. He gave a sigh of relief. Alger came back, a grim frown on his face.
"I don't like it," he said. "Something just doesn't seem right with what she says and the way she says it, but I can't pin her down on anything wrong. She said they had held her in a house in Fort Smith and went north this morning on the same train we did. She had on a dark wig, dark glasses and a big floppy hat so no one could recognize her.
"The kidnappers were on the train, too, or at least one of them. She claims he had a knife
touching her side all the time so she couldn't scream or try to get away from him."
Spur lifted his brows and nodded. "Yeah, seems like a good story, knowing her wild ways. But I wonder."
"So do I," Alger said. "But wondering and proving she was part of the conspiracy are two different matters."
Spur went back to Sully.
"Clever how you tied down those guns in the train robbery."
Sully grinned, then shook his head. "Don't know nothing about no train robbery. I do a little farming. Mostly some fruit trees and vegetables and corn for the winter."
"And you won two-hundred dollars playing poker."
"That's right."
The train whistled, then a minute later stopped at the Chester store. There were two other buildings there, one of them a house. Alger went to help Miss Hellman off the train, and Spur nudged Sully to his feet.
Two trainmen put down the makeshift ramp for the horse to get off the cattle car and then the train pulled out.
They all went into the store and found a chair for Miss Hellman. Spur took Sully outside and grinned.
"Now, little man. You and I are all alone, no witnesses, it's just your word against mine. Can I help it if you fell down the steps at the Chester store here and got all bloodied?"
Sully backed against the side of the store and held up his tied hands in front of his face. "You can't hit me, you're a lawman. You can't do that. I'm tied up and helpless. I'll scream like bloody murder."
"Well now, `can't' is an interesting word. We'll see if I'm able to hit you or not, won't we?" He waited a minute. "Want to change your strange story about hunting deer?"
Sully shook his head, his glance moving from side to side as if looking for an escape route.
"Then why does that horse you have carry an AL brand? That's the brand on my horse, too best in town. Both are from the Anderson Livery down in Fort Smith."
Sully scowled a minute, then grinned. "Yeah, right. Bought her from Anderson last time I was down there to play some poker about three months ago. I got robbed by that horse trader. That mount ain't all that good."
Spur Giant: Soiled Dove Page 14
