Bannerman the Enforcer 16

by Kirk Hamilton

  “A lawman?” she asked and there was a shade of tension in her voice.

  “Wouldn’t say that. But I do bring in the odd outlaw, providin’ it pays enough.”

  She digested that and then smiled, nodding in understanding. “I see. You’re a kind of bounty hunter, then?”

  “That’s near enough.”

  She ran a hand over the butt of the big Manstopper revolver holstered at his hip. It was bulkier, much heavier than the normal six-shooter.

  “You carry a strange gun, John.”

  “Made it myself,” he told her, figuring a little bragging on his part wouldn’t go astray. He pulled the heavy gun from the holster and showed her the cylinder, spinning it so that it spun on its well-oiled bearings. “Manstopper!”

  He grinned as he put the gun away again and slipped an arm about her shoulders.

  “But we don’t want to talk about guns on a fine day like this. Want to stroll down the creek a ways?”

  She thought about it briefly. “Let’s just sit here in the shade and watch the fish. It’s peaceful. And you’re a comforting man to have around, John.”

  She leaned her head against his shoulder.

  “You know more about me than I do about you,” Cato said, probing gently. “You’re from ’Frisco you said. Wonder what made you come here? Austin ain’t exactly San Francisco, from what my pard Yancey has told me.”

  “Yancey? The big man who helped you in that fight? He seemed a bit—well, reluctant to join in.”

  “Yeah ... well, we kinda make it a rule never to interfere in each other’s troubles unless there’s real danger, you know. Bit of a roughhouse like that don’t mean much.”

  “Is he a bounty hunter, too?”

  “Somethin’ like that.”

  “You seem a strange combination, you and Yancey.”

  “Yeah? Come to think of it, I guess we do make a kinda queer pair, but we get along fine and we’ve been through a lot of scrapes together. He’s saved my life a few times.”

  “And no doubt you’ve saved his in return?”

  “Guess so.” He turned on the log and looked steadily into her face. “Jeannie, I asked you a question some time back and you ain’t answered yet.”

  “What question, John?”

  “Why, what made you come here, gal like you.”

  She said nothing for a moment, then smiled at him.

  “It’s quite simple, really, I’d had enough of the so-called social scene. I felt it was—well—pointless. Then I met a woman who’d been to Texas, a ‘frontier’ woman, who had helped her husband build up a cattle ranch, worked right alongside him, helping him all the way. The ranch was successful and she was in ’Frisco on a holiday, to buy new clothes and things they required at the ranch. What she told me of life out here appealed to me. I began to read all I could. Then I realized that I had no real ties to keep me in ’Frisco. All I had to do was say goodbye to a few friends, pack my bags and come see for myself what Texas is like.” She smiled more widely. “So here I am in Austin. It’s a start. Later on, maybe, I’ll get out to the real frontier. After I’ve gotten more used to the place.”

  “Well, I guess that makes sense.” He grinned impishly at her. “I’m kinda glad you did stop off first in Austin, Jeannie.”

  She laughed and clung to him. “So am I, John. So am I.”

  Yancey still couldn’t shake the feeling that Cato was in some kind of danger. He had detected a little resentment in his friend when he mentioned the hunch he had about the red-haired girl. He had no doubt that if he persisted, Cato would dig in his heels and it was possible that they might cross swords about it.

  But the hell with that, Yancey thought. He aimed to follow through and check out this Jeannie Devon as far as he could.

  The clerk at the hotel knew nothing about her, except that she had come across from the railroad depot with a pile of baggage. Yancey checked at the depot and finally found someone who remembered her arrival. Jeannie Devon had come in three days ago, the day before he and Cato had ‘met’ her. But what Yancey found interesting was that she wasn’t off a train from Santa Fe—the one that usually connected with the ones running from the West Coast—but she got off a train from the southern line. Of course, there were railroad lines from San Francisco that took a more southern route than those that came through Santa Fe, and they ran along the Rio Grande’s course a way, but it was just one more curious fact to ruffle Yancey’s feathers where Jeannie Devon was concerned.

  He told Cato about it that night when the small agent came back to their rooms to get another change of clothes.

  Cato didn’t like the line he was taking, Yancey could see that right off, and the small man’s eyes narrowed dangerously. He paused in the act of pulling on his half boot, looking soberly at Yancey.

  “Yance, I want you to do me a favor.”

  Yancey waited, guessing what was coming.

  “Just mind your own business, huh?” Cato told him. “Don’t make it your life’s work to go pokin’ your nose into Jeannie’s affairs, or mine. I reckon I can take care of myself if I have to, but I ain’t seen any need to get into a fuss over that lady ”

  “Don’t get all het up, Johnny,” Yancey said placatingly. “You know how my hunches nag at me. It’s just that a few things don’t seem to add up. I’d hate to think you were being set up in some way …”

  Cato sighed. “I’d hate to think that, too.” He yanked his boot on, stood up and stomped his foot down into it firmly. “But should it happen, I’ll handle it ... Okay, Yance?”

  Yancey shrugged. “Whatever you say.”

  Cato nodded curtly, pulling on his jacket. “What I say is, let it be.” Then he grinned suddenly to take some of the sting out of his words. He punched Yancey lightly in the chest. “I reckon you got too much time on your hands, old pard. What with Kate bein’ away and all. Why don’t you find yourself a gal to pass away a couple of pleasant hours? Might be just what you need.”

  “Might be,” Yancey replied soberly. “But it’s not what I want.”

  Cato held his gaze a spell, then nodded curtly. “That’s up to you ... Adios for now.”

  Yancey nodded and watched the small agent go out of the room. He frowned. He hadn’t seen Cato smitten like this before. Johnny was a real ladies’ man, always chased girls of all shapes and ages but he took care never to get too involved … except in the case of Marnie Hendry, the beautiful nurse he’d loved and lost. ii But although Cato had known Jeannie Devon for only two or three days, Yancey could detect signs that things were a lot more serious this time. They were pretty much inseparable now, Cato and Jeannie, and Yancey was expecting at any time for the smaller man to tell him he was moving into the woman’s rooms.

  Yancey didn’t think he was being jealous; even though he had come to regard Cato as a close friend, not just a sidekick in a dangerous undercover job. They usually whooped it up together when they were on leave from assignments, but there were plenty of times when they went their separate ways, too—Cato with some ‘fallen dove’ who had taken his fancy, Yancey, like as not, with Kate. The three of them rarely met on social occasions, though there had been times when Cato had linked up with some girl whom he considered worthy to take to supper with Yancey and Kate.

  But neither man had ever tried to hinder the other, either in their working life or otherwise. Cato should know that. He should figure that Yancey wouldn’t try to spoil his fun without having a damned good reason. Maybe that was why Yancey felt peeved now, at Cato’s off-handed attitude. He was usually right with his hunches but Cato didn’t seem even to want to concede that much.

  Maybe Cato was right. Maybe he should get out and have some fun himself. Kate would be having a fine old time in New Orleans. She wouldn’t expect him to sit in his room here twiddling his thumbs, stewing over intangibles.

  Yancey stood abruptly, yawning and stretching. That was part of it, too, he figured. He was still trail-weary, couldn’t seem to shake the feeling this time. It u
sually took a few days for him to unwind and relax, but this time he felt just as tight as when he had arrived back in Austin with Slim Vardis. Could be he had had too many assignments coming too quickly together. He had hardly had a break in a couple of months.

  He grabbed his hat and left the room swiftly, going out into the street and heading towards the saloon area. He figured to have a few drinks, maybe a game of cards and then he would let the night bring whatever it would. A fight, a girl, an all-night poker session. But, even before he had reached the saloon area, he found himself thinking of Cato and the Devon woman.

  He stopped by at the post office but there was still no reply to the telegram he had sent his sister, Mattie, in San Francisco. He moved on towards the saloons.

  That night, Cato and Jeannie Devon went to the Gilded Dove saloon-playhouse and watched jugglers and conjurers as well as dancers and singers on the stage. There was an Englishman, well-known in theater in Europe, who delivered extracts from Shakespeare, and got the bird.

  Cato was amused but Jeannie confessed that she was disappointed; she liked Shakespeare and had been looking forward to hearing the actor. Cato took her to a cafe where they ate a late supper and then strolled back towards the Lincoln Hotel. On Confederate Avenue, two riders came galloping up behind them and, whooping shrilly, suddenly put their mounts onto the boardwalk and rode straight at Cato and the woman.

  The small agent grabbed Jeannie’s arm and pulled her back as the men thundered past with a drunken laugh. He swore softly.

  “All right?” he asked.

  “I—I think so,” she said breathlessly. “What on earth did they think they were doing—”

  “Look out!” Cato snapped, pulling her back again as the men wheeled their mounts and came spurring back, the horses’ hoofs thundering hollowly on the boardwalk. Cato leapt forward and up, grabbing one of the riders by the arm and hanging on, throwing his whole weight backwards. The man yelled as he spilled from the saddle and they hit in a heap of flailing arms and legs as the riderless horse ran on.

  Jeannie pressed back into the shadows as Cato bounded to his feet first, kicked the cowboy in the head and sent him rolling out into the street. The other rider wheeled and with a loud curse, came racing back, snatching a gun from his holster. Cato’s right hand dipped instinctively and came up with the blazing Manstopper. The gun roared like a thunderclap on the quiet street and the rider went backwards over his mount’s rump to thud to the ground, roll a short distance and lie still.

  “Johnny! Look out!” cried Jeannie Devon in urgent warning.

  Cato spun, crouching, bringing his smoking gun around and seeing the first cowpoke on his feet now with a gun leveling at him, hammer notched back. Cato dropped to one knee and fired simultaneously with the other man. He felt the air-whip of the lead as it passed his cheek and the cowboy staggered, jerked like one of the puppets they had just seen at the Gilded Dove, and then collapsed to spread out slowly on his face in the dirt.

  Cato jumped up and ran to the tensed Jeannie who was staring at the two downed men. He grabbed her arm. “You all right?”

  “Yes, yes,” she whispered, still staring at the two dead men. “I’m fine, Johnny …” She turned her gaze to him as townsfolk, attracted by the gunfire in this normally quiet street, came running. “And so were you, Johnny! You were just ... marvelous! I’ve never seen anything so fast! And deadly! You’re some gunfighter, Johnny Cato! Maybe the fastest gun alive!”

  Cato frowned slightly as the crowds began to gather and he recognized Yancey Bannerman’s big form pushing through to the front. He wondered how Jeannie Devon, with the background she had given him, could be any judge of a man’s gun fighting ability.

  Yancey briefly examined the dead men, faced Johnny and spoke swiftly as he saw a deputy sheriff hurrying along the street towards them.

  “What happened?”

  “Just walkin’ along when they come ridin’ up on the boardwalk and made a couple of passes at us,” Cato said slowly, looking levelly at Yancey. “Drunk, I guess. I yanked one from his saddle and the other pulled a gun.”

  “They don’t smell of liquor,” Yancey said flatly, shifting his gaze to Jeannie Devon. “You sure do seem to attract trouble, ma’am!”

  Cato looked sharply at Yancey and then at the woman. She was flushed and her eyes were hard and glittering as she regarded Yancey. Then she slipped her arm through Cato’s.

  “Maybe you’re right, Mr. Bannerman,” she said coolly. “All I know is I’m very glad that Johnny’s around to take care of me ... very glad indeed!”

  Yancey was sure Cato grew a couple of inches in stature, at that.

  Three – The Answer

  Yancey paced the room in the hotel and glanced again at the cottage clock ticking away on the mantelpiece. Almost noon. Cato should be showing up soon, he figured.

  And, as if the thought had triggered something, the door opened and Johnny Cato came in, carrying his jacket over one arm. He arched his eyebrows at Yancey’s tensed form.

  “What’s up this time?” he asked tightly and Yancey said quietly:

  “Don’t get riled, Johnny. You must be wondering some yourself about those two hombres you gunned down.”

  Cato hung up his jacket and turned to him, face sober. “If I am, you’re just the man to tell me all about ’em, huh? You been sniffin’ around again!”

  Yancey snapped, “You know something smells, Johnny. First the fight outside the hotel, then the two hombres trying to ride you down. Or ride the woman down.”

  “Yeah, I thought of that. But she swears she’s got no enemies, Yance. Don’t know why anyone would want to try to make trouble for her.”

  “And the trouble last night? Too big a coincidence, Johnny!”

  Cato sighed. “So what did you find out?”

  “Those hombres you downed weren’t drunk. They were a couple of hardcases who drifted in a few days ago and the law already had the clock on ’em. They were to be gone by noon today.”

  “Well, they’re gone now, all right,” Cato said with a grim smile.

  “They were seen talking to a big jasper with jet-black hair and a long sort of face. He was wearing a black leather vest with a couple of silver conchos and rawhide thongs on the front. Sound familiar?”

  Cato frowned slowly, not taking his eyes off Yancey. “Mebbe …”

  “You know who I mean. His name’s Storm. He was one of the cowpokes who rousted the woman in her surrey. You busted his nose with a boot before he ran off.”

  Cato’s glance sharpened. “Yeah, I recollect him. Seems to be the answer to last night, then, don’t it?”

  Yancey looked at him blankly.

  “Aw, come on, Yance!” Cato snapped. “Storm got his nose busted. Big as he is, he didn’t want to square up to me, so he hired those two to get me and make it look like it was a drunken prank.”

  “Well, you’re right about him hiring those two hardcases,” Yancey agreed. “When the law gave ’em until noon to get out of town, they only had a couple of dollars between ’em. When they took ’em over to the coroner’s last night, they found fifty dollars apiece on their bodies. Now that’s kind of big money for a cowpoke to be paying out just to square up a busted nose. It’s pay for a couple of month’s work!”

  Cato was very thoughtful now and he frowned as he walked across to a chair and dropped into it.

  “Does seem kinda strange, Yance,” he admitted. “We know anythin’ about this feller Storm?”

  “Not much. He’s ramrod for some tough outfit, but I can’t seem to find anyone who knows where. Pretty tough hombre himself, it seems.”

  “Well, why in hell would he set those two rannies onto me?”

  Yancey stared at him levelly for a short time.

  “Maybe to test you,” he said finally.

  Cato stiffened. “Test me? What the hell, Yance? That don’t make sense ...”

  “It’s the only thing that does make sense, Johnny! Think about it. I’ve maintained all alon
g that rousting with the surrey was a set-up. Last night, you were tested to see how fast you were with a gun!”

  “Hogwash!” snapped Cato. “Why me? If you’re right about the fist fight, why didn’t someone test your gun speed, too?”

  “Because,” Yancey told him slowly, “Jeannie Devon had picked you, so you’re the only one they’re interested in.”

  “Who?” demanded Cato angrily. “Who’s interested in me? Come on, Yance! You’re pretty slick with the theories. Tell me just who’s interested in me. Or,” he added bitterly, “in other words, who’s Jeannie workin’ for?”

  “That I don’t know, Johnny, but I’m sure she’s workin’ for someone who has an interest in you, someone who wants to know how well you can fight with both fists and gun.”

  Cato bunched his fists, glaring. “All right, Yance. That’s it! I’ve listened to you long enough and you don’t make any more sense now than you did the first time! Trouble is, you figure Kate’s off somewheres with that cousin of hers, havin’ a high time, and you feel put-out about it. So you’re kinda down on women in general right now and that includes Jeannie Devon!”

  “Hell, Johnny, you know better than that!”

  “Figured I did, but now I ain’t so sure. You plain resent me goin’ out with that Devon girl!”

  “Now you know that doesn’t make any sense, Johnny,” Yancey said, trying to control his anger. “I’ve never resented your goddamn fancy females! If I had, I’d sure have been riled-up plenty in the time I’ve known you!”

  “Mebbe that’s right,” Cato admitted, “but the fact remains you’re riled-up this time and you’re readin’ all kinds of things into what’s happened, just to get me away from Jeannie.”

  “You loco fool!” Yancey roared. “That’s not it at all! I’m trying to look out for you! All you can see is red hair, red lips and—and—hell! I’m trying to steer you out of trouble!”

  Cato’s eyes were dangerous, glittering and hard, as he bored his gaze into Yancey.

  “I already told you once, Yance,” he said quietly, deliberately. “And this is the last time I’ll tell you. Keep your nose out of my business! Right out!”