Until Darkness Disappears (A Saga of Texas)

by Will Cook

  On a small rise, three hundred yards distance, a horseman wheeled and started to gallop away. Carl grabbed up his Winchester, but Early said: “Save your shells. He’s out of range.”

  “Not for me,” the German said and uncased a bolt-action rifle with a long telescope on it. With maddening calm he squatted, put on the sling, and dumped the rider from the saddle with one shot.

  Early spoke to Hinshaw. “Get the horses and we’ll take a look.”

  Hinshaw ran back, got the horses, and returned. They mounted and rode out, and Early swung down to turn Bill Grady over with his foot. Hinshaw felt his stomach knot, and it was with a great effort that he held himself from running to Grady.

  The ranger was shot clear through, stomach and back, yet he was alive. He looked at Early, then at Hinshaw, and with an effort that cost him his remaining strength he tried to draw his gun and shoot Martin Hinshaw. But he dropped the gun and strangled on his blood and died there.

  Fred Early said: “Send a couple men out to bury him.” He looked at Hinshaw’s colorless complexion. “You sick?”

  “I don’t like to see any man cut in two,” Hinshaw said, and turned to his horse and swung up. He rode slightly ahead of Early on the way back so Early couldn’t see the bleakness of his expression or the tears he constantly fought back. In his last living moments Bill Grady had thought to play out the game so that Fred Early would have further proof that Hinshaw was an enemy of the Texas Rangers.

  Hinshaw had control of himself by the time he rejoined the group. He nodded toward that spot of prairie where Grady lay dead and said: “Pete, take a shovel and put some sod over him. Someone might come along and find him.”

  “We don’t get many travelers through….” He looked at Hinshaw’s expression and broke off his argument. “All right.” He took the German’s shovel and got his horse.

  Early walked over to where the German was casing his piece of portable sudden death. “I’m impressed. How many can I have?”

  “I haf forty pieces and five thousand rounds.”

  “How much?”

  “A thousand dollars each,” the German said.

  Early made some mental calculations for his profit. “When can you deliver?”

  “The boat….” He stopped when Early raised his hand in caution.

  “We’ll talk about it later,” Early said. “Hinshaw, see that all this is brought back to the ranch. You can ride back with me in the buggy, Herr Schilling.”

  Hinshaw waited until Early and the German drove away, then he mounted his horse and rode out to where the wagon had been parked over the rise. Carl and the signalman were hitching a team to it. Hinshaw examined the splintered holes in the bed where the many bullets had gone clear through.

  “That was some shooting,” Hinshaw said.

  Carl glanced at him. “I wouldn’t know.”

  Hinshaw had a rage to work off, and he came off his horse before Carl knew what was happening. He axed Carl flat, then said: “I’m going to teach you how to say sir to me.”

  “Maybe it’ll be the other way around,” Carl said, rising. “I had the job coming, and Early gave it to you.” He had the size and weight and a grudge of his own, but it was nothing to the fire inside Hinshaw. He caught the wagon maker as he bore in, and, when he hit him, he saw Grady sprawled out there, dead, and it was a joy to feel pain in his fists and to see blood spring to Carl’s lips.

  Hinshaw’s advantage was his rage over Grady’s murder, and it made him immune from pain, yet it left him clearheaded, coolly calculating, and he went after Carl like a butcher reducing a side of beef to steaks and chops. He closed an eye and pulped the man’s nose and got hurt a little himself, but he was slowing the wagon maker down, making him sluggish and unsteady on his feet, and he was sapping the man’s strength with his punches.

  Hinshaw worked him around with his back to the wagon and hit him with all he had and felt the fight go out of the man. Then he stepped back and let him fall. A moment later he walked over, took his canteen from the saddle, and poured it in Carl’s face. That brought him around, slowly, and he sat up, leaning against the wheel for support.

  “The next time I walk to the barn, you open the door and step aside. You understand?”

  “Next time,” Carl said in a mumble, “I’ll have something in my hand.”

  “And I’ll have my gun. You want to play this right out to the end?”

  “I guess not,’” Carl said.

  Hinshaw got on his horse and rode back to the ranch and found Early waiting on the porch. He had his satchel by his side and picked it up when Hinshaw rode into the yard.

  “Drive me to the dépôt,” he said, and got into the buggy. Hinshaw got in, picked up the reins, and turned out of the yard. Early lit a cigar and said: “As far as anyone in Laredo is concerned, I took the eastbound on business. Drop me off, and I’ll catch the train back, then you drive to Laredo and meet me in town.”

  “At the hotel?”

  “Yes. Stay away from my store. I don’t want anyone to know that you work for me.”

  “Ashamed of it?”

  Early laughed. “Friend, very few people really know much about my business, and those do can’t prove a thing. There isn’t one scrap of paper that ties me to anything illegal. As for what goes on at Carlisle’s, it can stand inspection any time. I use the place for a wagon repair dépôt, and I store merchandise there because I don’t have the room in town. If I entertain a guest now and then, that’s also in the line of business.” He looked at Hinshaw, and smiled. “As for the little demonstration you saw, there’s no connection between that and arms traffic to Pedro Vargas. If I want a man to show me something, I tell him to come right ahead and show me.”

  “It pays to be careful,” Hinshaw said.

  “Too bad that ranger wasn’t more careful,” Early said. He looked at Hinshaw. “You knew him, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, he always called me squirt.”

  Early laughed. “That must have set just dandy with you.”

  “I always meant to teach him different,” Hinshaw said softly. “It doesn’t matter now.” He flipped a glance at Early. “Do you have to talk all the time? It gets on a man’s nerves.”

  A stain of temper came to Early’s cheeks, but he laughed that and passed it off. “You’re like a cocked gun. Well, I guess it’s an asset to you.”

  He fell silent then, and Hinshaw drove until well after dark. They finally came to a junction with a railroad shack, some loading pens, and a siding full of freight cars. He let Early off. He went in and checked the train time, then came back.

  “Thirty-five minutes. Might as well get started. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Give me some time to sleep,” Hinshaw said.

  Early laughed. “All right. Day after then.” He stepped back, and Hinshaw drove away. As soon as he was clear of the depot, he veered south and drove steadily through the night, arriving just before dawn at Bill Grady’s unmarked grave.

  He parked the buggy in the old buffalo wallow and gathered up all the pieces of splintered wood he could find and built a small fire. Then he ripped out the wooden luggage bin beneath the buggy seat and made a cross, tying it together with a piece of wire he found. Then using a clevis pin, he heated it and burned Bill Grady’s name on the head marker and planted it by the grave.

  Dawn was rinsing away the night when he kicked out the fire and drove away, heading for Laredo. He looked back and could make out the grave marker. He said: “If there’s any patrols around here, I hope they got eyes and can read.”

  He tried not to think of the way Grady died, but he couldn’t keep it out of his mind. He remembered how close he had come to breaking down and giving the whole thing away. He guessed that Grady had sensed that for he had drawn his pistol, reminding him that his duty to the State of Texas was bigger than a man’s duty to his friend.

  And that’s what he was, Hinshaw thought. My friend. The best damned friend a man could ever have. There wasn�
�t any need now to hold it all back, so he dropped the reins and let tears mar his vision. He didn’t think Bill Grady would think less of him for crying.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Martin Hinshaw stopped at the barbershop for a haircut, shave, and a bath, took a room at the hotel, then ate in the dining room before going on to the store for some smoking tobacco. With a cigarette between his lips, he stepped out to the walk, feeling like a different man. This feeling had a short life for Ella Sanders was walking toward him.

  She stopped and looked at him. Hinshaw took the cigarette from his mouth. “I can step across the street until you pass,” he said.

  The sincerity, the simplicity touched her, and she came up to him. “Marty, I think we’d better talk.”

  “Why don’t I take you down to the Shattuck House and buy you a cup of coffee?”

  She shook her head. “I’ve got a little shopping to do. Come to the house in a half hour.”

  “Fred Early may not like. . . .”

  “Fred Early didn’t ask you,” she said, and went on into the store.

  He loitered along the street until he figured a half hour had passed, then he walked over to Ella Sanders’s house. She met him as he came onto the porch. She held the screen door open for him, and he stepped inside, placing his hat on a bench by the hall tree.

  “I’ll make some lemonade,” she said, going to the kitchen. Fresh plaster covered the bullet holes in the walls, but the gouges in the woodwork had not been repaired. “The weather’s turning out warm, isn’t it?”

  He laughed, and she turned and looked at him. “You could have said that on the street, Ella.”

  “Yes. I ought to know better than to make small talk.” She sliced lemons and squeezed them. “When Dad was killed, I’d been hurt, and I wanted to make others hurt, too. I haven’t been fair to you, Marty. You risked your life the night Dad was killed, and I never even thanked you for it.”

  “That doesn’t matter,” he said. “I wanted to help you, and you turned to Early. I knew that I was licked, but I didn’t understand it. I still don’t. He brought those papers to the major, and somehow you just forgave him for it.” He shook his head. “Pa used to say that love was blind, but I never believed it.”

  She looked squarely at him. “Not love, Marty. I don’t really think there ever was love.” She added sugar and water in the pitcher and got two glasses. “The things you said got through to me in spite of everything. Fred came back this morning on the train. I saw him.”

  “How was the trip?” Hinshaw asked innocently.

  “He didn’t go on a trip,” she said. “At least not where he said he went. He got off somewhere between here and the sixty-mile watering tanks.”

  “Did he say that?”

  “He didn’t have to,” she said, sitting down across from him. “You know how Fred is, talking a lot of the time. Right away he told me about the good time he had. Only it was a lie, all of it. He never got to the sixty-mile tanks because the eastbound train, the one I would have been on if it hadn’t been for the funeral, was hit by Vargas’s bandits, derailed, and looted. Fred Early knew nothing about that, Marty. Nothing at all.”

  Hinshaw whistled softly. “You didn’t call him on that, did you?”

  “No,” she said. “Because I really didn’t know what it meant, his lying like that.”

  “Well, he’s going to hear about it before the day’s out and wonder why you didn’t catch him up. Your answer had better be better than his was.”

  “That’s worried me some,” she said. “I don’t know what I’ll say. I’ve thought about it since I saw him, and nothing comes to me.”

  Hinshaw sipped his lemonade and thought about it, then said: “Did he come here?” She nodded. “Good. Then tell him you haven’t left the house since the funeral and didn’t know about it yourself. And after the delivery boy told you, you thought he was sparing your feelings by withholding the grim truth.”

  Her expression brightened. “He might believe that. Fred likes to think of himself as always being most considerate and kind. But I’m afraid of him now. I know too much, and yet I really don’t know anything.”

  “He’s in this right up to his eyeballs,” Hinshaw said. “I know because I’m working for him.” She actually recoiled from him, and he took her arm for fear she would turn and run. “Ella, you’ve got to understand. That was all a put-up deal at the hearing, me socking the major, and him booting me out of the rangers. You see, it was the only way they could convince everyone that I was in disgrace. I managed to convince Fred Early that I was desperate for money, and he gave me Carlisle’s job out at the ranch. That’s where I’ve been the last few days.” He felt her relax and let go of her arm. “Grady was my contact, but he’s dead, and I’ve got no way of passing on information to the major.” He shook his head. “I know Early. He’ll use me, then put a bullet in me just like Grady. When he hired me, I knew it was a short-term deal.” He shrugged. “I don’t mind the chances, but I’ve got to contact the major and let him know what’s up. Early’s too careful and too smart to be trapped unless he could be caught with guns and ammunition on him. But he never goes with the wagons when they cross the river.”

  “There’s nothing to stop me from going to the major,” Ella said.

  He looked at her, then shook his head. “Early would have you killed if he suspected….”

  “Marty, I’m not afraid. Let me . . . for Pop’s sake.”

  “All right. Early contacted a German at Carlisle’s place. He’s buying a new machine gun, lighter, faster firing. One man could pick this up and run with it. If Vargas ever gets his hands on a dozen of those, he could terrorize the whole border. In the mountains he could hold off an army. In a couple of weeks, Early will have those guns. Right now they’re on a boat somewhere offshore. Tell the major that.”

  “I will. Anything else? How will he get them into Mexico?”

  “With the wagons some way,” Hinshaw said. “I never got into the barn, but he keeps two wagon makers on at Carlisle’s. You’ll just have to tell the major to sharpen the guards at the crossing and hope they figure out how he’s doing it.”

  “Are you going back with him?” Ella asked.

  “I’ve got to. No telling how much longer he’s going to need me around, and I might pick up some additional information about the boat or how he gets the guns across. There are other questions I’d like answered… like how he arranges the pay-off. I figure Batiste Rameras is taking care of that.”

  “Marty, if you learn anything more, how will you contact me?”

  He shook his head. “I won’t. Once is enough.”

  “You’re shutting me out, and that’s not your decision to make. Marty, the Cardeens were on that train. They were taken off.”

  He stared at her for a moment, then said: “Good God!”

  “Do you see why I have to help you? They machine-gunned the train to cow the passengers. Some were hit. Those guns were bought from Fred Early. Next it will be something more terrible.” She took the empty glasses to the sink. “I’ve made up my mind, Marty. Don’t argue with me.”

  “How would you do it? You can’t go out on the prairie, and I won’t get a chance to come to town.” He shook his head. “Let the major put a man on it.”

  “What could a man do that I couldn’t? Get shot like your friend?” She came back to the table and sat down. “Marty, I think Fred trusts me because I’m a woman, and, to him, all women are a little stupid. We’re all human, Marty, and we all make mistakes. I might be able to find the ones Fred Early has made.”

  “All right, but you stay in town. If I have to get word to you, then I’ll figure some way to do it. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, Marty.”

  He looked at her and smiled. “I think you’re kind of pretty, you know that? If I ever get two dollars in my pocket, I’m going to buy a marriage license.”

  “Well, now! I haven’t said I’d . . . .”

  “I know. So wait until
I ask.” He got up, and went into the hall for his hat and returned to the back door. She stood there as though she were waiting for something, so he put his arms around her and kissed her.

  After he left the house, he carefully threaded his way through two alleys before going back to the main street. He went to his room at the hotel and stretched out on the bed to wait for Fred Early.

  * * * * *

  Since the train’s derailing, Major Carl Manners hadn’t had a decent sit-down for a meal. Now he returned to his office and ordered his meal brought there. He was just starting to carve the roast beef when the guard knocked.

  “ ’Scuse me, Major, but the Sanders girl is here. Wants to see you.”

  “Show her in,” Manners said and sighed, resigned to having the roast grow cold. He stood up and plucked the napkin from the collar of his shirt as Fred Early opened the door and ushered Ella Sanders into the office.

  “Nice of you to receive us,” Early said, offering his hand. “Miss Sanders suggested that since you were so considerate during her trying time, that she come out here and thank you personally. Naturally I was glad to escort her.”

  “Glad you came,” Manners said, sitting down. He glanced at his roast and started to push it away, then Ella got up and took off her gloves.

  “Let me carve that for you, Major. Fred, why don’t you get two glasses and pour a drink for yourself and the major?”

  “I believe I will,” Early said, and got up, turning toward a wall cupboard.

  Quickly Ella Sanders took a folded piece of paper from her purse and slipped it under Manners’s plate. He saw this but did not let on by word or expression when Early turned back with bottle and glasses. Ella sliced the beef and insisted that the major eat while they visited.

  “The crying is over,” Ella said. “Fred and I have talked about it, and I think people will let me live my life in peace.”

  “Yes,” Manners said. “If you were a man, it would be different. It’s a tragedy, but we all must live through them.” He glanced at Fred Early. “A miserable business, that train’s derailing. I hope you weren’t harmed.”