Brand 9

by Neil Hunter

  Brand smiled. ‘Miss Maitland, you’re a shameless woman.’

  ‘Am I? Am I really?’ She eyed him provocatively. ‘Well, you should know.’

  ‘Stop trying to change the subject. Listen, Virginia, I just don’t want you to be hurt.’

  ‘After what I’ve been through I don’t think anything can ever hurt me again.’ Virginia moved across to sit beside him. ‘Jason, listen to me. You remember what I said last night?’

  ‘If I recollect you said a lot of things last night. Not much made sense.’

  ‘I was being distracted.’

  ‘Is that what they call it now?’

  ‘I know you have your work to go back to. And I have a great many things to deal with. Business matters. So we are not going to be able to see much of each other in the near future.’ She paused, gathering her thoughts. ‘Jason, I want to see you again. Find out if we have a chance together.’

  ‘But we both need time,’ he finished for her. ‘I understand. We need to let things work themselves out. Agreed?’

  ‘Yes—agreed.’

  ~*~

  When they reached Butte there were matters to be attended to. The train which would start them on their journey east wasn’t due for a couple of hours. It gave them time to collect their belongings from the hotel where they had stayed before riding out for Bannock. Virginia had drawn money from one of the local banks so they could replace their old clothes. They even had time for a meal before making their way down to the depot.

  The train pulled in on time. Virginia had arranged for a private car to be reserved for them.

  ‘Are you ready?’ she asked Brand. Then was no reply. Virginia turned to glance at him. He was staring along the platform, a distant expression clouding his eyes. ‘Jason? Is something wrong?’ She had been with him long enough now to be able to recognize the warning signs.

  ‘I thought I …’ he began, then shrugged the moment aside. ‘Come on, let’s get where it’s a bit warmer.’

  The train slid away from Butte in a cloud of steam and billows of thick smoke. The depot buildings quickly drifted from their sight. The empty landscape was a white nothingness of snow and cold, high peaks. Brand stared up at them, finding he had no regrets at leaving them behind. A lot of violence and death had been meted out up in those frozen mountains. He’d almost lost his life, yet had regained it too, in a way. Finding himself and finding Virginia were the only good things to have come out of the whole miserable episode.

  ‘What’s your timetable when we get to New York?’ he asked, settling down in one of the compartment’s comfortable seats.

  ‘Business and more business,’ she replied. ‘Apart from the normal routine there is this Cortland affair to be sorted out. I have instructed that a new firm of lawyers be appointed to handle the legal side. Also accountants will have to be called in to sort out just exactly what Jerry Cortland managed to get up to and do what they can to reclaim what he stole. It’s going to take time. I just hope too many investors don’t get hurt. So it appears I am going to be very busy for a time, Jason Brand.’

  ‘I have a feeling you’ll survive it all and come out still looking beautiful.’

  She crossed the compartment and perched herself on his lap, arms slipping with familiar ease around his neck. ‘And where will you be off to?’

  Brand shrugged. ‘Wherever my boss sends me. That’s the way it is with my work.’

  ‘So you might be sent halfway across the country. Even if I wanted to see you it might not be possible?’

  ‘For now that’s the way it has to be.’

  ‘But at least I have you to myself until we reach the end of this long journey,’ she murmured, playfully nibbling at his ear.

  ‘Yeah, but like you just said we have a long ride ahead of us, woman, so don’t be so damned impatient.’

  ‘I can’t keep my hands off you,’ Virginia whispered.

  ‘So I keep noticing.’

  ‘Well then …’ Virginia began but her words were cut off with sudden abruptness.

  Brand had heard the soft click of the compartment door being opened. There had been the absence of a knock beforehand, ruling out one of the train’s attendants. As far as Brand was concerned that meant only one thing...an uninvited visitor... and he knew just who...verifying that his instinct had been right back there on the platform of Butte’s rail depot. He threw Virginia floorwards, rolling off the seat himself, grabbing for the Colt on his hip. Feeling the stitches in his side tear and blood start to seep from the wound. As he hit the compartment floor he heard the solid blast of a shot. The bullet ripped its way through the seat, blasting leather and lining out in a wide fan. Brand twisted his body, jerking his head round so he was facing the door end of the compartment, pulling his Colt into line. A second shot filled the compartment with noise. Powder smoke curled about in heavy coils. Brand heard the bullet chunk into the floor. He snapped up the Colt, triggering a swift shot in the direction of the dark figure lunging away from the door. He knew he’d missed the second he pulled the trigger. And then it was too late because the moving shape was on him, leaping towards him like some ravening wolf. Brand tried to bring his Colt up but there was no chance. The hurtling figure smashed into him, slamming him down against the floor of the compartment. Brand had a jarred impression of a wild, snarling face, eyes gleaming with some insane brilliance. The mouth was open in a grimace of pure rage, teeth gleaming white against the unshaven face.

  Brand looked into that face, and saw that Jerome Cortland had slipped over the edge into madness. The man was wild, endowed with superhuman strength. He had thrown aside the gun he had carried and now he used both hands to clutch savagely at Brand’s throat. Brand swung his gun hand up in a short, sharp arc, cracking the hard barrel against Cortland’s skull. A pained howl burst from Cortland’s lips. His hands left Brand’s throat, fingers closing over the Colt’s barrel, and he began to jerk the gun from Brand’s hand. Brand drove his left fist against Cortland’s side, over the ribs, again and again. Cortland lashed out with his right, delivering a brutal backhand blow to the side of Brand’s face. The blow hurt, rocking Brand’s head. Blood spurted from a split lip. The pain angered Brand. He put everything into a sudden surge, throwing Cortland from him. Yet the man still hung onto the barrel of Brand’s Colt, dragging it from Brand’s hand. Even as Cortland was rolling away from him Brand stumbled to his feet.

  He turned in towards Cortland as the man rose on his knees. Brand lashed out with his booted foot, catching the hand that clutched his own gun. The impact broke fingers and sent the gun flying across the compartment. Cortland howled at the pain of his fractured hand. He pushed to his feet and launched himself at Brand again. Locked together they stumbled across the swaying floor as the train eased around a curve. The side of the compartment brought them to a stop. Brand gasped as he slammed against the compartment wall. He jammed a hand under Cortland’s chin and pushed the man’s head back, feeling Cortland grunting and straining as he fought back. They twisted and slid along the compartment wall. Brand pushed them away, feeling Cortland pulling back, then the man braced himself and summoned every ounce of strength in his body as he thrust back against Brand. There was a brief moment when nothing seemed to happen and then Brand felt himself off balance. He struck the compartment window at his back, heard glass break, felt the chill rush of cold air gust into the compartment. Cortland uttered a shrill cry of triumph, as if he had already won. Then his cry turned to a pained grunt as Brand sledged his right fist around and hit him across the jaw. The blow turned Cortland around, so his back was to the shattered window. Brand laid on his full weight, bending Cortland over the sill. Cortland felt himself being pushed through the window and uttered a scream of terror. One foot came off the floor. Cortland made a wild grab for Brand’s jacket, dragging the man even closer.

  Behind them Virginia called out as she sensed what was happening. She was too late.

  The train leaned as it hit another curve and before she could make
any kind of move the lurching coach tilted and Brand and Cortland were gone out through the window, vanishing from her sight.

  There was no time to prepare for what happened. One minute Brand was struggling to overcome Jerome Cortland, the next he was in the air, turning over and over, the chill of the outside clawing at him as they fell.

  Later he realized that if it hadn’t been for the deep carpet of snow on the ground neither of them would have survived the impact.

  Brand felt the cushioning layer absorb the fall. He sank deeply into the icy embrace of the thick snow. It enveloped him, got into his clothing and clogged his mouth and nose. For a time he lay stunned, coughing as he tried to clear his throat of the snow lodged there. He was on his back, staring up at the sky. His body ached from the fall, but there was nothing to suggest he had sustained any serious injury, though he could feel the warm flow of blood from the re-opened wound in his hip. The doctor in Bannock would not have been impressed.

  Cortland.

  Where was Cortland?

  Brand pushed himself into a sitting position, fighting his way out of the drift, and once he was on his feet he took a look around.

  The train was way up the track, having come to a stop. Heavy smoke billowed from the stack, staining the pale sky. Distant figures were emerging from the coaches, staring in Brand’s direction.

  As he cleared the bank of snow Brand heard someone shouting from the direction of the train. He wasn’t certain but it sounded very much like Virginia. If it was she was most likely berating him for doing such a reckless thing as falling from a moving train.

  And in that instant he picked up a soft rush of sound and the sharp intake of breath. He turned in time to make out he blurred image of someone coming at him. It was Cortland. The man had got his hands on a solid snapped off length of hard timber from a tree branch that had broken under the weight of snow. It was already cleaving the air as Cortland struck out. Brand was unable to prevent it from slamming against his body. The blow, wildly swung, had enough power to knock him off his feet. Brand fell back across the tracks, staring up at Cortland as he raised his makeshift club for another blow.

  It would have been too easy to stay where he was, succumbing to the hurt and the threatening presence standing over him, but Brand still carried enough anger and a stubborn refusal to quit that enabled him to fight back. He struck out with the heel of one boot, catching Cortland dead center on his right knee. The blow was delivered with a great deal of animosity, with intent to hurt, and it did. Cortland gave a scream as the hard heel impacted against his knee, fracturing the bone. His mistimed swing slammed the club against the metal rail splintering the wood. Brand rolled to one side, hauling his aching body upright, and turned back to face Cortland as the man lunged for him yet again. He moved awkwardly, favoring the leg Brand had injured and left himself wide open to Brand’s hard delivered right fist. It impacted against the side of Cortland’s jaw, splitting the flesh and spinning Cortland aside. There was a brutal intent in Brand’s actions as he struck again and again, his hard blows knocking Jerome Cortland back as each punch landed.

  It was a savage payback for the misery and suffering Brand and Virginia had been put through because of Cortland’s pure greed. A number of men were dead because of his desire to snatch away Virginia’s wealth. The fact they had been working for Cortland, simply to fuel his desire for something out of his reach, made no difference to Brand. Cortland had lost any chance of forgiveness through his actions. Pursuing Virginia, forcing her to flee for her life and placing her in peril took away the man’s right to being forgiven. Man against man was acceptable. But any man who placed a woman in such a position rated low on Jason Brand’s list. Pity had no place in Brand’s thoughts as he hauled the man upright each time he fell, driving in blow after blow.

  Cortland made his fight back, landing some telling blows of his own, tearing at Brand’s face until it bled profusely. His retaliation only increased Brand’s full on attack and he gradually overcame Cortland’s defense.

  In the end they were reduced to a pair of battered and bloody creatures trading savage blows that inevitably could only have a single outcome.

  It came as they struggled together, hands slippery with blood, the snow around them spotted pink. Brand landed a crippling punch that smashed in under Cortland’s jaw, raising him on his toes before he stiffened and toppled over. He landed hard, the back of his neck crashing down against one of the rail tracks. Cortland uttered a short cry before he became still.

  Completely exhausted Brand, struggling to suck air into his burning lungs, sank his knees on the ground, head hanging, with blood dripping freely from his face. More blood glistened on his hip, where the torn open wound was still oozing. He supported himself on his splayed hands, knuckles raw and bleeding, and didn’t even have the strength to look up when Virginia appeared, kneeling beside him. She gently raised his head, wincing at the fresh cuts and bruises on his face.

  ‘God, you look awful.’

  He managed a crooked smile. ‘You always find the right word for every occasion. Must be that expensive English education.’

  ‘Let’s get you back on the train before you bleed all over the mountain.’

  The Conductor had accompanied Virginia. He went to look at Cortland and when he returned he was shaking his head.

  ‘Mister, I don’t know what it was between you two, but it’s over now for good and all.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Virginia asked.

  ‘Yon feller isn’t going to cause you any more trouble. Son, you got a powerful pair of fists there. He must have hit that rail pretty hard when you put him down. I figure his neck’s broke. He’s deader than yesterday’s news.’

  Brand climbed slowly to his feet, Virginia supporting him. The Conductor, seeing the slick of blood spreading across Brand’s side, added his arm and they all moved back to the train.

  ‘Next stop I need to find the telegraph office,’ Brand said. ‘Let Marshal Bailey know about Cortland.’

  ‘You the law, son?’

  Brand glanced at the Conductor. ‘Kind of. You mean you can’t tell by my upright and clean living demeanor?’

  The Conductor glanced across at Virginia.

  ‘He’s been having a difficult day,’ she said.

  ‘That so, young lady? Then God help us all.’

  Cortland’s body was picked up and laid to rest in the baggage car at the rear of the train. Shortly it rolled on and the passengers settled down for the rest of the journey.

  The Conductor located an Army surgeon in one of the coaches and the man did what he could for Brand, insisting he rested and didn’t move until better medical help could be arranged. This man was no small town doctor and brooked no nonsense. He made it clear Brand was not to make any kind of effort to get out of the bed in the compartment. The soldier, a ten year veteran, who had served in New Mexico and Arizona was well used to recalcitrant patients and threatened Brand with all kinds of hell if he disobeyed. He need not have bothered because Jason Brand had no resistance left in him. This time he had no intention of moving. He hurt, he was exhausted, and the kind of bedside manner Virginia was offering made it a distinct pleasure to be a patient.

  When they were finally alone he lay and stared out of the window, watching her move quietly around the compartment.

  ‘Hey, this isn’t a wake for the dead,’ he said. ‘No need to tiptoe.’

  She came and sat beside the bed, taking his bruised and raw hand in hers.

  ‘I thought you were dead when you went out of that window.’

  ‘Closest I ever been to flying like an angel.’

  ‘I have a feeling you’re too stubborn to die.’ She leaned over to kiss his cheek. ‘But I was still frightened.’

  He watched her for a moment.

  ‘He was off his head. Had to be the way he hid out just waiting his time. This was his last chance to make things right as far as he was concerned.’

  ‘But it wouldn’t have done him
any good. The whole world knew what he’d done. The game was over and he had lost.’

  ‘Man gets a notion in his head so strong he can’t see the real world any longer. You were in his way. If he killed you everything would be all right again. That was all he could figure.’

  Virginia shook her head. ‘Poor, Jerome,’ she said. ‘What a waste. All that for what? For nothing. It was all such a waste.’

  Brand struggled to keep his heavy eyes open.

  ‘Not entirely,’ he said. ‘If he hadn’t forced you to come to Montana we wouldn’t have met up.’

  She considered that for a while.

  ‘You’re right. In that case then at least there’s one good thing to come out of it all.’

  He didn’t answer and when she glanced down she saw he had fallen into a deep, and for once, untroubled sleep.

  She left him. It was time, she decided, that Jason Brand was allowed the chance to get his life back on track. He’d been through enough of late and for what lay ahead for them both, he needed time to gather his thoughts and push the flickering shadows of the past far behind him. If she had anything to do with it, his future would allow him to step into the bright light of day. If nothing else it would allow him the chance to see where he was going. And no one could expect more than that.

  McCord’s Office, Outside Washington

  ‘He’s in Butte. Recovering from a wound he received on a train riding out of Bannock, Montana,’ McCord said, holding out the telegram to Richard Hunt.

  ‘How did that happen?’ the British agent asked, reading the message.

  ‘All very confusing,’ said McCord. ‘I’ve had a number of messages. It appears he fell out of a carriage window while struggling with someone. They fought outside and the other man was killed.’