by Neil Hunter
“For Heaven’s sake, just what have you been up to?” The question was delivered in a steady, no-nonsense tone.
“Your father and I went for a walk through town. We were jumped by three men. I’m pretty certain they wanted to kill us both.”
“Obviously they didn’t. Is my father all right?”
“Not a scratch on him.”
“Don’t you think it’s time you told me the whole story?” Sarah demanded. “All of it, Jason.”
Chapter Four
“AND because of this threat to my father’s life you have been assigned to protect him?”
Lady Sarah Debenham turned away from the washstand and crossed to where Brand sat on the edge of the bed.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said dryly, ignoring the stabbing pain in his side as she cleansed the wound with a damp towel. He was acutely aware of her delightful nakedness, the close proximity of her warm and scented body. Her fair hair was loose, lying against her slim shoulders. The overall effect was enough to distract him from the discomfort of his wounds, while Sarah herself appeared totally oblivious to her nudity.
Her head lifted, blue eyes regarding him scathingly. “Don’t call me ma’am. You do know my name.”
He had to smile at her. What a woman! He tried to recall a phrase he had heard about English girls. What was it? The English Rose they were named, because of their fair hair and silky complexions. Looking at Sarah he was in full agreement. She had that rare beauty and freshness. Wholly feminine, yet beneath the fragile wrapping he could sense the thorn that was her fiery spirit. Always ready to rise up and protect the tender bloom.
“Jason.” Her voice altered, concern edging her words. “Just how serious is this threat to father?”
“With this assassin Raven involved it’s as serious as anything can get.”
She sighed. “I knew father was worried about something. He’d mentioned there was some kind of trouble concerning the railroad construction. But I had no idea it was this bad.”
“He hasn’t mentioned any names? People he might suspect?”
Sarah shook her head. “No. But I wouldn’t be surprised if he did have someone in mind. It’s just like my father to keep it all to himself and then go out and confront the people involved without warning.”
Brand stood up. It suddenly felt warm in the room. He crossed to the window and opened it a few inches. Sounds from the street filtered into the shadowed room.
“Right now I don’t have a lot to go on, Sarah.” He said. “All I do know is that your father suspects someone is cheating his company. Stealing money he’s pledged for other people. From the figures I’ve seen it could run into a hell of a lot. Railroads are expensive to build as well as to run.”
“I wish I could help.”
“You can. By keeping this to yourself. And by letting me know about people your father meets. If you feel uneasy about anyone just let me know.”
“The day after tomorrow we leave for the railhead.” Sarah said. “Do you think this man, Raven, will try to kill father before we leave? Or will he wait after tonight’s failure?”
Brand glanced across at her. “I’m not so sure tonight had anything to do with Raven.”
She stared at him. “You mean there might be others who want father dead?”
“Sarah, Raven is a professional killer. He wouldn’t hire anyone to do his killing for him. Dirty, hands-on jobs maybe. But Raven prides himself on doing all his own killing.”
“So who attacked you tonight?”
“I think someone — possibly connected with the fraud — is running scared. I figure the three who jumped us tonight were a worried man’s insurance.”
“Could it happen again?” Sarah asked. She was standing before him, breasts rising and falling swiftly with agitation.
“When there’s a lot of money involved people will do all kinds of wild things to try and keep above water. Your father is capable of spoiling someone’s plans. When a man starts getting pushed into a corner he tends to fight back any way he can.”
“It may sound a silly question — but can you keep my father alive?”
Brand had been expecting the question. It was always prone to cropping up during situations like this, and he detested the need to answer.
“I’ll do my damndest,” he said, and there wasn’t any more he could add to it.
Sarah leaned forward, slipping her arms around his neck. She began to kiss him, softly at first, but with increasing intensity. She deliberately pushed her naked body against him, her actions making it clear to him what she had in mind. Brand resisted, for a few seconds before his resolve crumbled and he decided that for the sake of Anglo-American relations he would have to simply take what was coming and do his patriotic duty.
Chapter Five
TO the west of Miles City, a full day’s ride on one of the Northern Pacific’s scheduled trains, at a bleak site chosen by the construction crews, stood a water tower. Apart from the rails themselves it was the only indication man had ever set foot on the empty land. The tower stood alone, the original wood of its construction weathered and grey, the canvas chute already cracked and dry. When the keen winds blew down out of the high country to the north they rattled the brittle canvas and moaned as they fingered the wooden slat work that supported the water-tank.
A few yards beyond the tower hand-operated points had been built into the tracks, and from this point a single span set of rails curved off into the distant high country. Set in the earth beside the track was a large signboard onto which had been painted the legend: RIGHT OF WAY PROPERTY OF THE BANNER LUMBER COMPANY. A SUBSIDIARY OF THE BANNER LAND AND CATTLE COMPANY.
For Amos Cooper the Banner Lumber Company had meant a chance to further his career as an engineer. Lord Richard Debenham himself had chosen the young man from Baltimore to head up the team responsible for the planning and construction of the rail line that would run from this lonely spot into the high country. The spur line would eventually link up with another line already being constructed over the border in Canada. Cooper, young and ambitious, had thrown himself fully into the project. He worked all hours of the day and often deep into the night, studying maps and plans, survey sheets. Singlehanded he solved many of the problems that developed as the spur line pushed across country. It didn’t matter to him that he was pushing himself too hard. He was fired with enthusiasm for the project and nothing mattered to him more than the gleaming steel rails snaking across the inhospitable land.
And then the troubles began.
Tools and materials of inferior quality began to arrive. The same began to happen with the food for the hard working construction crews. A mood of unrest rippled through the construction camp. Cooper did his best to calm the feisty crews, and because he was popular with them he succeeded in the short term. More than once during the course of laying the tracks Cooper had taken off his coat and pitched in during a crisis. The crews remembered this and agreed to allow him time to sort things out. Cooper soon realized there was something badly wrong and it needed to be rooted out quickly. He knew, too, that he would only be able to pacify the crews for a while. He began his own quiet investigation and came to the conclusion that some kind of fraud was being worked on the company. He was sure Lord Richard Debenham would want to be put in the picture. Cooper managed to get a telegram off to Debenham, detailing his suspicions. He received a swift, short reply that told him to keep what he knew to himself, and that Debenham would be at the railhead as soon as humanly possible. The news was cheering to Cooper, because in the time between his telegram and Debenham’s reply, more trouble had hit camp. A trestle-bridge being built over a deep gorge had collapsed, pitching two workers on to the jagged rocks far below. Cooper risked his own life to walk out to the edge of the broken trestle to examine the spot where the collapse had taken place. His thoughts on the matter were confirmed when he found the timbers they had used were rotten inside, and hardly fit for firewood. Angered by the deaths of the two workers Cooper had decid
ed to make a more positive move towards finding out who might be responsible.
That night he had gone to the rough shack that was the domain of the man in charge of construction materials. He was hoping to find the invoices that came with each shipment of materials or food. Cooper’s intention was to try and find out who was supplying the company with inferior goods.
He might have succeeded if other interested parties hadn’t got there ahead of him. Cooper walked into a savage beating that left him in a bloody heap on the floor of the shack. When consciousness returned he found the place on fire, the air reeking of coal oil. With his clothing and hair smoldering from the rising heat, Cooper had fought his way from the building, finally battering down the bolted door with nothing more than strong shoulders and a wild desire to stay alive.
Above everything else he realized that he was a marked man. Someone knew he suspected a conspiracy, and because of that Cooper decided his life was in jeopardy from that moment on.
He was right.
During the next few days it became increasingly clear to Amos Cooper that he dare not trust anyone. He had to consider every man around him was an enemy. He had to watch his every move, especially when he was alone. His plight was brought home to him the day he went ahead of the track layers to check the progress of the clearing crew. He was almost killed by a falling tree. He avoided being crushed by inches and ended up face down on the wet ground, covered in mud and shaking with fear. The crash of the falling tree had faded, leaving him alone on the timbered slope. Climbing to his feet Cooper wished he had a gun with him. For the first time in his young life he found himself alone and frightened; he was not ashamed to admit his fear. It was a normal reaction. He knew that fear itself was nothing to be worried about — it was the inability to conquer that fear that could cause concern. As he straightened up Cooper realized he would conquer his fear, because it was being replaced by a growing anger that was directed towards the unknown people who were trying to kill him. He recognized the need for caution, yet at the same time he vowed he would not give in to them.
And then came the day a supply train rolled in from Miles City, bringing the news that Cooper had been hoping to keep quiet. The message was round the camp in minutes. Lord Richard Debenham was due to arrive at the railhead within the next couple of days. Cooper realized his enemies would put the pieces together and come up with the obvious answer. That Cooper had told Debenham of his suspicion. They would double their efforts to get rid of him before Debenham arrived. They could not be certain how much Cooper knew. They couldn’t be aware that he knew very little. All Cooper did have was a strong feeling of something being wrong, and it had been that which had set off his investigation. It was obvious that his snooping had panicked someone, and that had led to the attempts on his life.
Cooper decided he wasn’t going to sit around camp and wait to be killed. He made up his mind to leave and join up with Debenham before the British Lord reached the railhead. He made his plans quickly and quietly, telling no one what he was doing. Late in the afternoon, while the crews were still busy pushing the tracks further north and the camp was almost deserted, Cooper made his move. The first thing he did was to pick up a gun from one of the surveyors’ tents. It was a .44-40 Colt, complete with holster and cartridge belt. He stuffed the rig into his saddlebags, gathered his gear and made his way down to the corral. The wrangler brought his horse and saddled it. Cooper strapped on his gear and rode out of camp.
Once clear he turned the horse south, following the rails that would eventually bring him to the spot where the spur line joined the main Northern Pacific tracks.
Taking his horse down a tree lined slope Cooper became aware just how vulnerable he was. He was a comparative newcomer to this wild territory, and he knew that the men trying to kill him would be at home in this country. He was taking a great risk trying to join up with Debenham — but was it any more foolish than staying in camp? There was little to choose between the two options. At least this way he was doing something. Not simply sitting around waiting to be picked off. This way he might get through alive. It was a slim chance but preferable to doing nothing at all.
Cutting out of the timberline Cooper reined in and studied the long, rocky slope that lay below him. Caution held him back and he spent long minutes searching the lay of the land. He had been riding for over two hours now, and during the last few miles he had started to get a feeling he was not alone. He hadn’t heard or seen anything. Yet he felt a presence. Someone was following him! Or was he simply starting to imagine things in his agitated state? He pushed the thought to the back of his mind. He wasn’t so jumpy he was making things up. He was scared — that he admitted. But he would handle that. He was being followed.
On impulse he took the wrapped gun rig from his saddlebags and strapped it on. He took out the gun and stared at it. The feel of the weapon gave him cold comfort. He knew how to load and fire a gun, but all he had ever fired at was the odd tin can. He wondered if that situation might be changed very shortly.
Cooper pushed his horse forward, easing across the open slope. The silence was broken by the clatter of his mount’s hooves on a stretch of rocky ground. He could feel the sun’s warmth touching him. The air he breathed was fresh. He tried to relax but the tension inside wouldn’t allow him to.
He never knew just what made him glance off to the left. Nor did he have the time to wonder about it. He barely had time to register the fact that he was staring at a motionless horseman before the rifle in the man’s hands loosed off a shot. Cooper saw the puff of smoke belch from the weapon’s muzzle, and then he felt a terrible thump somewhere high up on his left side. The impact slammed him out of his saddle. As he fell he threw his hands out at the ground to lessen the contact. The earth seemed to leap up towards him, smashing the breath from his body. Cooper lay for a moment, racked with pain, stunned. He knew he had to move or die. He couldn’t be certain how badly hit he was, but there was a powerful survival instinct burning inside, demanding that he get up and move. Struggling against the pain and sickness Cooper struggled to his feet. As he lurched upright, blood streaming from his side, he heard the clatter of approaching hooves.
The rifleman!
Coming to finish him. Cooper recalled the holstered gun on his hip. He clawed it free, raising it and dogging back the hammer. Surprised at his calmness he half-turned, so that as the closing rider swung his horse around Cooper’s standing mount, the Colt caught him in its sight. The rifleman reacted swiftly, dropping the muzzle of his rifle to line on Cooper. Both weapons fired at the same moment. The rifleman kicked back out of the saddle, the left side of his face ripped away by Cooper’s bullet. Cooper himself was down again, a bloody hole in his right thigh. This time he lay still for a long time. The pain was greater, and he became weaker with each passing moment. As his mind cleared he pushed back the pain, aware of his position. He had to get to his feet and back on his horse before more of them came.
Fighting for every inch he gained Cooper staggered upright. Through blurred eyes he located his horse. It was mere yards away, but as far as Cooper was concerned it might have been a thousand miles. With frustrating slowness he shuffled to the animal, leaving behind a trail of blood. As he neared the horse it eyed him nervously. It might have shied away if he hadn’t made a sudden, and successful, grab for the reins. He hung on to the thin leathers, talking quietly to the horse, calming it. He gripped the saddle horn, leaning against the horse’s bulk until he had rallied as much strength as he could, then he hooked his foot in the stirrup and hauled himself into the saddle, moaning at the savage bursts of pain that lanced through him. He almost passed out. Sheer determination held him in the saddle. He felt sweat pouring from him. Dragging up the reins he urged the horse down the slope. There was a straggling line of timber at the base of the slope. He hoped he could reach it before any of the rifleman’s friends showed up. He was getting weaker all the time. Still losing blood. The way things were going it wouldn’t take another bul
let to kill him. He was more likely to bleed to death first.
Chapter Six
DESPITE the distractions of the night before Jason Brand’s thoughts centered on his assignment with the light of day. As with the previous morning he accompanied Richard Debenham and Sarah on their early ride. This time he also took breakfast with them. Later he saw Debenham into his meeting with the other cattlemen. Sarah was back at the hotel, arranging the transfer of luggage to the private rail car that stood on a short spur line close to the station. The car, loaned to Debenham by the Northern Pacific, would be at his disposal for the journey up to the railhead.
Brand decided it was time he got down to some serious work. Sarah’s late night diversions had left him little time to sleep, and he was feeling that now. Not that he could blame her entirely. He hadn’t done much to dissuade her. That would have taken someone with greater resolve than Jason Brand. He never had been able to resist an attractive woman, in or out of bed. As he approached the office of the town’s lawman Brand pushed Sarah’s image out of his mind. He had enough to think about.
“How you feeling this morning?” the Marshal asked as Brand stepped into his office. He indicated a chair and watched the tall man sit down. He had a fair knowledge of Brand’s reputation, and being a wise man he respected that reputation. He also respected the telegram he had received from Washington a few days back.
“Curious,” Brand told him in reply to the question.
The Marshal sat upright, sensing the tone in Brand’s voice. “Meaning?”
“Just got to wondering if any of those three were known around town. You know any of ‘em yourself?”
“The big feller you shot was called Quincey. I’d seen him around town the last couple of months. Seemed to spend most of his time down at the Apex Supply and Merchandising yard.”
