Brand 9

by Neil Hunter

  Cortland scowled at Shannuck’s broad back as the gunman stalked on through the snow. If it hadn’t been for the money involved Cortland might have said to hell with it and quit. But he knew he couldn’t do that. Now that Virginia Maitland knew he was behind the whole scheme he had to go through with it. She had to die, along with the man called Brand. If either of them got through to the law and told their stories he was finished. Though he would never have admitted it to anyone, Cortland was starting to get scared. The whole thing was getting out of hand. It was like a damn snowball, he thought. It starts off small but if it runs away from you it gets bigger and bigger, until it’s too large to control. That was the way the situation was developing. It had to be resolved out here in this lonely, desolate part of the country. Once that had been achieved he would be able to put the second part of his scheme into operation. That was more Cortland’s style. Dealing with money, handling the financial side. He had it all planned out, right down to the last detail. He began to get excited again as he thought about the money. All that money. The millions he would be able to accumulate. And it could be done. He knew it could. It had to work. He’d put in too much time already.

  He just had to...

  ‘Damn it, Cortland, get over here,’ Shannuck’s harsh tone demanded.

  Cortland joined the gunman. ‘What is it?’

  Shannuck lifted an arm, pointing with a gloved finger. ‘There,’ he said triumphantly.

  A shout of excitement almost burst from Cortland’s throat as he recognized the figures of Brand and Virginia. They were leading a horse out of the tangled cover of some thick brush.

  ‘Let’s get them,’ Cortland said eagerly.

  ‘Wait, you damn fool,’ Shannuck said but he was too late.

  Cortland had already stepped out of the shadows thrown by the trees, lifting his rifle.

  ‘Goddamn it, Cortland, don’t,’ Shannuck began. His words were drowned in the crash of the shot from Cortland’s rifle. The sound rattled back and forth across the white snow. And Cortland was running forward, levering his rifle for a second shot.

  ~*~

  The distant figure of Brand twisted toward the sound of the shot. His own rifle moved, fired. The distant report of sound was flat and faded quickly. Shannuck saw Cortland stumble, fall face down in the snow. Shannuck cursed wildly. He threw a couple of shots in Brand’s direction, knowing he was way off, and angry at his own stupidity, he lunged forward through the falling snow to where Cortland lay unmoving. He bent over Cortland, savagely hoping that the man was dead. His hope was dashed when Cortland moved, a low groan coming from him. He lifted his head and stared at Shannuck.

  ‘Did you get him?’ he asked.

  Shannuck stood up, staring into the distance. ‘You scared him off. Christ, I seen some stupid moves, but you ought to get a medal, Cortland.’

  Cortland struggled to his feet. ‘Don’t forget who’s paying your wages on this job, Shannuck. If I hadn’t lost my footing I might have got Brand.’

  Shannuck laughed softly. ‘Cortland, if he’d been bending over right in front of you I don’t reckon you could have put a bullet up his ass!’

  ‘Damn you, Shannuck …’

  ‘What in hell is going on?’

  Shannuck glanced toward the speaker. It was Ben Holland. Close behind him was Cooper. Following was Holland’s remaining bodyguard, leading the horses.

  ‘Well?’ Holland demanded. He stared between Cortland and Shannuck.

  ‘Ask this damn New York gunfighter,’ Shannuck said. ‘I had Brand spotted. A good chance. Then he starts in like he was General Custer and balls the whole thing up.’

  Ben Holland sighed wearily. He was cold and, wet and hungry. He had spent a miserable night out on this damned mountain, trying to keep warm while it snowed on him. He was sick of the whole affair and if there had been a way out he would have taken it willingly. He was, though, in it right up to his neck. There wasn’t going to be an easy way out. He had committed time and money and men. He just wanted to get it settled, take his share of the spoils and move on. Jerome Cortland wasn’t making it any easier and it was unfortunate he had decided to come out from New York and take personal charge. The other unfortunate reality was that without Cortland the whole scheme couldn’t be completed. If Cortland died everything was lost.

  ‘Cole, why don’t you and Cooper ride on ahead. Handle it your way. Just make sure Brand and the girl don’t get to Bannock, or speak to anyone. We’ll follow on. If you need us let us know. Safer if we wait at the other end in case you need backup in town.’

  Shannuck glanced across at Jerome Cortland. The man had a fixed, bitter expression on his face but he said nothing.

  ‘Sounds fine to me,’ Shannuck said. ‘Mr. Cortland?’

  Cortland saw it as a way he could bow out with at least some dignity. ‘We’ll do that. Makes sense to expand our options.’

  ‘Jed, bring the horses,’ Shannuck said. ‘Let’s just hope we can reach him fast. It ain’t all that far to Bannock now.’

  Cooper brought the horses. They mounted up and rode off. Holland watched until they had vanished in the misty snowfall. He hunched his shoulders beneath his thick coat.

  ‘If there’s a chance Shannuck will pull it off, Jerry,’ he said. ‘Let him do the dirty work. It’s what you’re paying him for.’

  Cortland didn’t answer at first. He seemed lost in thought. After a time he glanced at Holland and said, ‘It wasn’t right, you know, Ben, leaving all that money to a woman. It just wasn’t fair.’

  Holland glanced at his bodyguard. He was getting sick of hearing about how bad the world had treated Jerome Cortland. But he kept his mouth shut, even though he was fast realizing that he’d been a damn fool to let Cortland talk him into the deal in the first place. Snatching up the reins of his horse Holland swung into the saddle and turned the animal in the direction of Bannock, his man close by and Cortland bringing up the rear.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Brand didn’t hear the shot but he felt the horse shudder as the bullet struck. The animal floundered in the deep snow. It left a trail of red behind it. Brand knew it wasn’t going much further. He freed his feet from the stirrups and slid from the saddle, dragging Virginia with him. They sprawled face down in the icy snow, struggling to make their feet.

  ‘Keep your head down,’ Brand snapped at Virginia. He stared over her shoulder, his eyes searching the snowy mist.

  Damn.

  Where were the bastards? He blinked his aching eyes, sore from the ever-present glare of the white carpet of snow. Then he spotted a gray shadow, a man on a horse, drifting like some silent ghost from the cover of tall pines. So where was the other one? Two had been following them for the past couple of hours, always at a distance, but persistently closing.

  ‘Jason?’

  ‘Wait,’ he said.

  She made to speak then thought better of it.

  Now Brand saw the second rider. Closer, this one. Moving slowly. That would be Shannuck. He had remembered the man now. He knew of the man’s past reputation. A tough son of a bitch, Cole Shannuck. Not a man to be taken lightly. He’d sooner kill a man than waste time on words. Brand squeezed Virginia’s shoulder.

  ‘When I tell you, get up and run. To the left there. Into those rocks. See them?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Virginia’s tone was subdued. He knew she must he terrified.

  ‘We’ll make it,’ he told her, trying to sound convincing. He cocked the rifle, took a deep breath, and rolled over. Jerking upright he aimed the rifle at Shannuck’s horse and pulled the trigger. His bullet kicked up snow feet from the animal. It sat back on its hindquarters. Brand swore and aimed again. He pulled the trigger. The rifle slammed against his shoulder in recoil. Shannuck’s horse gave a shrill scream, stumbled, went down and Shannuck spilled from the saddle hard.

  ‘Now,’ ‘Brand yelled. ‘Just run.’

  He sensed Virginia acting on his instructions. There was no time to see how she was.
Shannuck’s partner was driving his horse forward, white spumes of snow rising into the air. Brand shot a quick glance in Shannuck’s direction, saw that the man was still down, dazed, crawling around on his hands and knees. Shannuck’s partner was yelling wildly at his horse, urging it up the slight rise of ground directly below Brand. The animal struggled as it plowed through the deep snow. The rider had his rifle up and he began firing, trying to stay upright in his saddle. Bullets whacked into the ground around Brand. Dropping to a crouch Brand shouldered his own rifle and returned fire. He missed altogether with his first shot. Then he steadied himself, ignoring the tug of a bullet going through his thick coat. His finger eased back on the trigger. The oncoming horseman went back out of the saddle like an acrobat. He slid off the horse’s rump and landed face down, as if he’d done a belly-dive into a pool of water. There was a moment’s confusion as the man’s horse hesitated. It kicked up a mist of snow before it half turned and trotted off unconcerned. As the snow settled Brand saw that the shot man was on his feet. Blood stained the front of his coat, pulsing out of the ragged hole. The man had lost his rifle. He tore open his coat and dragged a handgun out. With startling suddenness he began to fire, stumbling through the snow towards Brand. He was badly wounded but still capable of killing. Brand stood his ground. He reluctantly lifted his rifle and put three quick bullets into the man, determined to put him down for good. Shannuck’s partner spun violently, his body ripped open by the shots. His gun hand jerked wildly off to one side, triggering a last shot into the gray sky. Blood sprayed across the snow, red then pink. The man lay on his back, twisted in the ugly sprawl of death.

  Brand searched for Cole Shannuck. The gunman’s horse was still there, on its side and kicking weakly, but Shannuck had gone. Brand picked up a line of tracks cutting across the snowy ground. Shannuck had broken for the same line of rocks Virginia had been making for. Brand swore. He turned and ran for the rocks, following Virginia’s footprints. He slipped in the snow and almost fell. Sweat was cold on his flesh under his shirt. Only now could he feel the stinging pain of a bullet crease across his side. He recalled the bullet tugging his coat.

  He reached the jagged line of rocks, plunged in amongst them unheeding. Something made him stop. He listened. Only silence. He crouched beside a slab of rock, reloading the rifle.

  ‘Virginia?’ he yelled.

  There was no reply. Brand shoved away from the rock and moved forward. A gunshot split the air. The bullet whacked the rock close by, vicious splinters burning the side of his face like a thousand tiny needles. Brand threw himself to the ground, rolling frantically across the hard earth. He banged up against the closest large rock and crawled into its cover. He listened, ears straining for any slight sound. He knew, though, that Cole Shannuck wasn’t going to be giving anything away. Brand would only hear what Shannuck wanted him to. Well, he thought, sitting here isn’t going to do any damn good. He came to his feet in a lunging run, making for the cover of some taller rocks. He had almost reached them when the blast of shots reached him. Something burned across the top of his left shoulder. Bullets gouged white marks in the face of the rocks just ahead. Brand twisted to the left, making a desperate leap for cover. He hit the hard ground with enough force to make him gasp. Kicking himself forward he thrust his body into a narrow gap between two high boulders. Sharp stones tore at the flesh of his hands, snagged his clothing, and he left behind a trail of bloody fingerprints. Behind him he heard a rattle of falling stones. Hard boots clattered across loose shale.

  Shannuck.

  Turning about Brand sat up, peering around. A slither of sound came from his right. He spun round, caught a fleeting glimpse of Shannuck’s powerful figure as the man ducked around the edge of a thick boulder. Brand shoved to his feet, jerking the rifle to his hip. Up ahead, in the jumble of rock, Shannuck appeared. He was casting about urgently. He lifted his head and saw Brand.

  ‘This time you son of a bitch,’ Shannuck roared. His rifle swept up and he snapped off a shot.

  Brand had moved the moment he set eyes on Cole Shannuck. He was already in motion as Shannuck fired and the bullet missed. Then Brand’s weapon blasted, the sound of the shot echoing in the confines of the rocky enclosure. Shannuck fell back as Brand’s bullet caught his left hip. He slithered along a section of slanting rook, cursing the pain in his hip.

  ‘Shannuck. You ready to quit?’ Brand yelled.

  Cole Shannuck’s voice boomed out. ‘The hell with you, Brand. Just show yourself and you’ll see if I’m quitting.’ He fired a wild shot in Brand’s general direction. ‘Come on, show yourself. I got money riding on your hide. Let’s see you. I’m going to shoot your cojones off, Brand, you son of a bitch.’

  Brand had circled the boulder he had used as cover. Now he found he was able to approach Shannuck from the man’s right. Brand flattened himself against the boulder. He propped his rifle against the rook and took out his handgun.

  ‘Shannuck, just stand easy. I’ve got a gun on you so …’

  Cole Shannuck swung round, his rifle lining up on Brand. They fired in the same split second of time. Shannuck had a wide grin on his face. It was still there when Brand’s bullet tore open his throat in a burst of red. Shannuck slid across the slanting rock, still attempting to use his rifle. There was an animal urge in the man to keep on fighting. He braced himself against the rock, using the rifle one-handed. Incredibly he seemed oblivious to the blood pouring from the gaping wound in his throat, though he was coughing horribly. Before Shannuck could fire again Brand’s Colt winked flame a second time. The bullet drove into Shannuck’s skull, smashing his head back against the hard rook. Shannuck hung against the rock for a time until his legs gave and he slithered to the ground in a welter of blood. The rifle slipped from nerveless fingers and Shannuck toppled face down in the stained snow.

  Brand walked slowly across to where Shannuck lay. He punched out the empty cases from his Colt and reloaded. He didn’t bother to check if Shannuck was dead. He didn’t really give a damn. But he still kicked the man’s weapon clear.

  ‘Virginia? It’s Jason. You can come out now.’

  He turned as he caught the sound of disturbed stones. Virginia came slowly out from behind some high rocks. She held her revolver in her right hand, the muzzle hanging down. She looked stunned, lost, her face pale and sick. As she approached Brand she averted her eyes from Cole Shannuck’s bloody body.

  ‘There’s a loose horse out there somewhere,’ he told her. ‘Let’s see if we can catch it. Be a damn sight better than walking to Bannock.’

  ‘What about the others?’ Virginia asked.

  ‘I haven’t forgotten them and you can bet they ain’t forgotten us. So the sooner we move the better.’ He recovered his rifle. ‘Let’s move.’

  The horse was standing out in the open. Brand left Virginia under cover and walked out to where the animal waited. It lowered its head as he approached through the falling snow. For a few moments Brand was sure it would move off. He spoke quietly and the horse stayed where it was. Taking the reins he led it back to where Virginia was waiting.

  ‘Come on,’ he said.

  As soon as they were mounted Brand touched the horse’s sides and they cut off across the open ground. A thick stand of trees lay before them. Guiding the horse through Brand brought it out on the far side and saw a long slope falling away before them.

  ‘Is it far?’ he heard Virginia ask.

  ‘No,’ he said, although he had no idea just how far off Bannock actually was. ‘Just hang on.’

  Brand noticed that the snowfall was easing off as they reached the base of the slope. He pushed the horse as fast as he dared, constantly scanning the surrounding snow filled landscape for signs of Cortland and the other two. A nagging thought grew in his mind. If they knew the lay of the land it was possible they might reach Bannock first, wait for him there. Brand sighed. Made no difference which way he turned when there was only trouble on the horizon. He figured he was going to have to take the ris
k. He had to reach Bannock soon for Virginia’s sake. She wasn’t going to last forever being carted back and forth across the mountains.

  Come to think of it, he decided, he’d had enough of it himself. Bannock was their destination. The kind of reception he received would just have to be tolerated. One thing Brand was certain of - it wouldn’t be the red-carpet treatment.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Bannock was no showplace. It was a working town. It existed because of the mines and drew its life-blood from them. Bannock had no time for fancy frills. It was basic, rough, quieter than it had been in its youth, but still a hard, pulsing community. It clung to the rocky slopes of the mountain, its rutted streets slanting and steep. The mines themselves lay in the hills around it. The earth had been blasted and gouged and scarred as the toiling teams of men ripped the valuable copper on from the heart of the mountain. Bannock served those men, supplied them, sustained them.

  Today it slumbered beneath a thick shroud of white. The howling winds and the ceaseless snowfalls of the past weeks had gradually slowed the town’s normal, frantic pace. The steep streets were almost deserted that cold day, close on noon, when Jason Brand and Virginia Maitland rode in. The snow had stopped falling hours back. Even so a strong, bitter wind had sprung up and sliced down off the bleak heights above Bannock. Turbulent eddies that stirred white clouds of icy snow off rooftops, sending it hissing along the empty streets.

  Hunched over in his saddle Brand eased the plodding horse to a halt. He stared at the town. His eyes roved back and forth. There were dozens of places for an ambush to be set up. He had no doubt now that Cortland and company would make their play here in Bannock. They had to. It was their last opportunity, and they would take it soon. A final, desperate stand.