Bannerman the Enforcer 11

by Kirk Hamilton

  The Home of Great Western Fiction!

  CONTENTS

  About Day of the Wolf

  One – Cowboy Special

  Two – Wildcat Falls

  Three – An Old Score

  Four – Tall Rider

  Five – Timberline

  Six – The Packs Gather

  Seven – Wolf’s Lair

  Eight – Lumber Camp

  Nine – River Of No Return

  Copyright

  About the Author

  The Governor of Texas had entrusted the safety of Senator Jonas Locke to his No 2 Enforcer, Johnny Cato. The mission proved to be more boring than anything else … until that last night, when Locke decided to go on a bender in the cowboy capital, Cheyenne. That was where Johnny’s problems began …

  With the senator abducted by a sadistic maniac called Wolf Duane, Johnny had to head up into the high country to rescue him. But Duane had a whole passel of hired gunmen to back his play, so the odds were stacked high against him.

  As if that wasn’t bad enough, the mountains themselves provided their own challenges—blizzards, avalanches and a pack of starved wolves that just wouldn’t quit until they’d turned him into supper.

  But Johnny wasn’t playing a lone hand quite as much as he thought. His partner, Yancey Bannerman, was also on his trail, helped by a beautiful Indian girl who loved to take the scalps of her enemies!

  One – Cowboy Special

  It had started in Cheyenne, Wyoming Territory, almost immediately Senator Jonas Locke had officially opened the new Timber Creek railroad that linked Wyoming directly with Northern Texas. The line had taken years to build, much hassling amongst the four major railroads involved, and a lot of diplomacy on behalf of the State governors who were backing the deal.

  It was one of the major communication breakthroughs of the late 1800s and rang the death knell on the long trail-drives to get beef to the most profitable market. A whole army of engineers had combined to drive tunnels through seven mountain ranges; throw trestle bridges across deep gorges high above raging, snow-fed torrents; circled a peak in southeast Colorado with a spiraling track which would

  stand as the longest curving stretch of railroad in the world for more than a century. Union Pacific, Kansas Pacific, Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe, and the Chicago and North-Western railroads, had all thrown their resources in to build the new line, which was to be known as the Four State Express Line.

  The inaugural opening was a big affair with a massive rodeo in Cheyenne, self-styled ‘cowboy capital’. The Governor of Texas, Lester Dukes, was unable to attend because of health reasons and he had sent Senator Jonas Locke as his deputy and representative. One of Dukes’ special operatives

  whom he called ‘Enforcers’, Johnny Cato, was assigned to accompany Locke as bodyguard and mentor.

  Not long back from a similar—and boring—assignment in Canada, Cato hadn’t been looking forward to the job. Locke himself was affable enough, a likeable man in his late forties, but he was very formal and conscious that he represented Governor Dukes. Like all Texans, he was immensely proud of his governor and he didn’t aim to put a foot wrong that might cause Dukes any embarrassment.

  Locke was a widower and his only daughter was married and living in St. Louis. So it was a small group, comprising Locke, Cato and a male secretary who saw that all arrangements were made in advance and everything went smoothly for the senator.

  There had been, as Cato had feared, a round of political receptions and soirees to attend and Locke had carried out his duties to the letter, retired early—and alone. This was bad enough, as it meant that Cato would have little time free: his commission was to guard the senator twenty-four hours a day. A man who liked female company, Cato had been hoping that Jonas Locke would find some woman at one of the parties to take to his suite of rooms in the Midwestern Hotel and occupy himself with her long enough for Cato to search out some willing girl he could while away a couple of pleasant hours with.

  But it had not happened. Cato knew little about Locke down in Texas, except that the man was regarded highly by Dukes, who was a fine judge of character. It seemed to him that Jonas Locke was a mite too straight-laced to be very interesting. He never spoke about his past and Cato had no idea where he had come from before entering Texas politics. Cato wanted this assignment finished as soon as possible. He longed for some action again, like his sidekick, Yancey Bannerman had drawn. Yancey, Dukes’ top Enforcer, was working along the border somewhere with a troop of Texas Rangers, trading lead and doing plenty of hard riding, fighting the bands of Mexican rebels who were trying to establish a stronghold on the Texas side of the river where they could retreat when things got a mite too hot south of the border. Cato figured that kind of deal would be more in his line than playing wet-nurse to Senator Jonas Locke.

  And then came the day for the official opening, the symbolic driving of the Golden Spike to fix the last length of track to the ties, made from the wood of trees from the four States involved. After the speeches came the rodeo, an exciting enough spectacle, but Cato didn’t get to see much of it. He had his work cut out sticking close to the wandering senator as he moved amongst the crowds. That night there was an official dinner, followed by an informal barbecue out at the rodeo grounds.

  Senator Jonas Locke kept his charm throughout and, though he had put away a considerable amount of wine and spirits, he looked none the worse for wear. Cato had been forced to limit his drinking, of course, and this further helped to sour his mood. Some damned assignment, he muttered to himself as he escorted Locke and the secretary, a lean, quiet and efficient man named Baxter, to the Midwestern. Well, it was nearly over now; tomorrow they would start back to Texas, riding on the first train to leave Cheyenne on the new line.

  And when he arrived in Austin, he would be due some leave and he knew just what he was going to do—and who he was going to do it with. Leastways, that was the plan. But it didn’t quite work out that way.

  As they entered the lamplit foyer of the Midwestern, Jonas Locke, loosening his black string tie, turned to Baxter.

  The senator was a solid man for his age, tall, good-looking with a silver-flecked longhorn moustache that matched his mane of wavy hair. He was on the top step when he turned and Baxter, tall as he was, had to tilt his head back to look into the senator’s face.

  “Craig—just make sure the hotel folk know to get my baggage down to the railroad depot in time for that train in the morning. And you might as well settle the bill now. Thank them for their attentions to our needs and so on.”

  “Certainly, Senator,” Baxter replied. “Will you be wanting anything else tonight?”

  Locke shook his head. “You turn in then, Craig. I’ll see you at the depot.”

  Baxter nodded, turned and started back down the stairs, pushing past Cato whom he regarded with barely disguised hostility. He figured Cato to be some sort of rough-diamond bodyguard who had been hired simply on his prowess with that strange-looking big gun barely concealed by the tails of his frockcoat. Cato, nearly a foot shorter than the senator, watched Baxter go, then continued on up the stairs.

  He stopped abruptly when he realized that Locke hadn’t moved and was blocking his way. He tilted his head back and looked up at the senator, who had his cravat off now and was unbuttoning his shirtfront.

  “This has been a boring assignment for you, hasn’t it, John?” he asked in his rich plummy voice.

  Cato shrugged. “Must admit I like a mite more action in my jobs. But I guess this one was easy enough. You didn’t give me much trouble, Senator.”

  Locke smiled slowly. “Maybe I’ve been saving it up.” Cato tensed despite himself and looked puzzledly at Locke. “What’
s that s’posed to mean, Senator?”

  Jonas Locke’s smile broadened. “It means I’m letting you off the hook, John. As of now. I don’t need you guarding me. You saw yourself that there are no problems and now there are a couple of things I want to do alone ... as plain Jonas Locke, not Senator Locke of Texas. You understand my meaning?”

  “Sure, Senator. But it’s no dice. My assignment was to guard you until you get back to Austin. And we’re a long way from there yet.”

  Locke’s smile was a shade tight around the edges now. “A regular train journey, John. No changes, nothing. Just a whistle-stop here and there to set down the other States’ representatives and the train rolls into Austin in about a week’s time.” He came down one step and looked down at the shorter man. “What I’m saying, John, is that you’re free to enjoy yourself for that week. From this very moment. You’ve had as much of broadcloth suits and black-string ties as I have. You deserve a break. And I’ve seen some mighty nice-looking gals around this town.”

  “Me, too, Senator, and I’d admire the chance to get in among ’em, but the governor said to stick with you and that’s what I aim to do.”

  Locke sobered. His eyes were hard as they regarded Cato. “Did he also say to follow my orders?” he asked crisply.

  “Sure, but he meant ...”

  “He meant just that! Follow my orders!” He forced a smile. “Seeing as you won’t make the move yourself to relax, I’m ordering you to take time off to have yourself some fun, John.”

  “You can’t do that, Senator.”

  “I can and I have. Now you obey me ... Lester Dukes wouldn’t be any too pleased to get an adverse report about you.”

  Cato stared hard at Locke for a long minute. “Just what is it you’re up to, Senator?” He held up his hands swiftly as the politician started to shake his head. “Don’t bother tryin’ to deny it. There’s somethin’ ... I don’t mind you cuttin’ loose after all that formal hogwash. I’ve been around enough to know when it’s time to fade if you and a lady want to get together. But I have to stick close by, Senator. There’s just no way around that. Dukes would have my head nailed to his office wall if I let you return to Texas alone. I’ll be riding that train with you, all the way. In the background, if that’s what you want, but I’ll be there. Right until you walk into the governor’s mansion on Capitol Hill.”

  Locke nodded slowly, unsmiling. “Yeah. You have that devoted look. You wouldn’t be rated second only to Bannerman, of course, if you didn’t have dedication.” He laughed shortly. “All right, John. I guess we understand each other. You realize I couldn’t risk putting a foot wrong as long as I was the governor’s representative? But now the formalities are over, I reckon it’s time to howl a little. Just a little, at my age!” He laughed again and Cato gave a faint smile. The senator looked pretty fit to him. “You like a little female company. Suppose we go look for some? Together?”

  Cato’s eyebrows lifted at that. He hadn’t expected to be asked by the senator to whoop it up with him.

  “Well ... maybe your idea of a high time and mine are different, Senator,” Cato stalled. “I mean, I was a gunsmith in Fort Laramie before I became an Enforcer, and before that I was a trail hand, did a short spell in the army, and generally raised hell all around the northwest States. I like my fun my way.”

  Locke clapped an arm about Cato’s shoulders and laughed in genuine amusement. “You figure your style of howling might be a little too wild for me?”

  Cato shrugged. “Different.”

  Locke continued to smile, shaking his head slowly. “You know what I was before I got into politics? Among other things, a federal marshal! Yeah ... that kind of makes you sit up, eh? But it’s true. I saw a lot of improvements could be made in the laws and the powers given to lawmen. So I spoke up. I must have chosen the right words, because I was asked to address Congress. Yeah: a working marshal, just in from the Indian Territory, with one arm in a sling made from the shirt of the man I’d hunted down and killed, and whose body was draped over the horse I was leading. They cleaned me up on the train and next thing I knew I was standing up before Congress, telling ’em what was wrong with the laws. That was the first step on the ladder that led to politics. I’m a natural-born Texan so I chose to work in that State.” He leaned a little closer to Cato. “Now, have you any idea how a federal marshal can cut loose when he comes back with a prisoner, maybe alive, maybe dead, and sometimes with a bounty he can collect? After weeks on the trail, living and sleeping in the same clothes, half-starved because he daren’t light a fire and maybe give away his position to the enemy? You any notion what kind of hell-raising a man can get into after something like that?”

  Cato nodded slowly. “I’ve seen marshals ridin’ the high-iron after a tough deal. But the thing is, Senator, you can’t afford to be seen on that kind of spree now. Even if the formal stuff’s finished, you’re still Dukes’ representative.”

  Locke smiled and waved his string tie and indicated the open front of his shirt. Some matted black and silver hair showed on his muscular chest and just the edge of an old bullet scar. “Why the hell you think I’m getting out of this gear? When I pull on some levis and a checked shirt, slap a plainsman’s hat on my head and hang a gunbelt around my middle, there are not too many in these parts who’d recognize Senator Jonas Locke. What d’you say, John? This town’s full of saloons that’re open all night. Or sporting houses where a man can get—well, whatever he wants: food, drink, company. And I’ve a hankering for all three. Join me?”

  While they walked down the gloomy passage to the suite of rooms, Cato thought about it. At the door, he gave a shrug.

  “Looks like I’ll have to, don’t it?”

  Locke grinned and nodded. “If you want to do your job properly and keep an eye on me.” He sobered a little, hand on the doorknob. “One thing, John. You said you’ve got enough savvy to know when to fade. Can I count on that?”

  Cato smiled wryly. “You can. I was wonderin’ if I could count on you for the same thing!”

  Jonas Locke’s laugh boomed down the passage as he threw open the door of the suite and went inside, his arm about Cato’s shoulders.

  ~*~

  Cheyenne at night was one wild place, especially with the crowds that had packed in for the opening of the new trans-State railroad. The town was wide open. The law had been briefed well in advance by the city fathers and told just what was required of it: mainly, to discreetly find some business out of town for the period of the celebrations. When the first train pulled out for Texas, then the lawmen could come back to Cheyenne. But during the days and nights of the railroad opening, anything went in Cheyenne and any elected lawman loco enough to try to enforce an ordinance would pretty soon find himself out of a job.

  The message was received and work was found outside of town. This night was to be the last wide-open night and everyone aimed to make it a rip-snorter. And that included Jonas Locke with Cato, still just a shade dubious, not far behind.

  As Locke had predicted, it was very hard to recognize the formal and distinguished senator in the man who swaggered along the dimly-lit streets, drinking from the neck of a whisky jug that he shared with his shorter companion When he let out a howl of exuberance, it was like that of any curly-wolf in from the trail and aiming to cut-up some before his money ran out. It didn’t take Cato long to get into the spirit of things. Locke obviously intended to enjoy himself and his rising excitement was infectious. Cato’s misgivings about the whole jaunt gradually faded into the background as time wore on and the level of the whisky jug lowered.

  Cato had a few anxious minutes in one of the saloons when Locke picked a fight and was accommodated by a hard-swearing, broken-nosed ramrod from a trail outfit. But Cato needn’t have worried. Locke lost some skin and a little blood, but it was the senator who walked away from the shambles of the smashed furniture in the bar where the trailman lay unconscious.

  That really seemed to set-up the senator. He came more aliv
e than ever after the fight, bought another jug of whisky and headed straight for the red-light district with Cato in tow. They raised a little hell along the way by turning a horse around in the shafts of a buckboard, with his head to the driving seat and rump foremost. They hitched him up that way and could hardly run off from the cussing owner for laughing. Cato was beginning to really enjoy himself now, and when Jonas Locke turned into the ornate, colored-glass doors of Madame Silver’s establishment he figured the night was about to boom. Madame Silver’s was the plushest, fanciest and costliest bordello north of the Cimarron.

  “The rest of the night’s on me, John!” Locke told him expansively as they approached the gilt-carved bar and a bevy of smiling ladies came towards them.

  As he linked arms with the tall blonde with the intriguing mole that jumped in time to the pulse in her neck, Cato smiled, a trifle blearily, across at Jonas Locke as the senator allowed a red-haired girl to lead him over to a velvet sofa.

  “I guess now would be as good a time as any for me to—uh—fade, Senator?”

  Locke laughed, let out a whoop that startled other customers and their companions, and waved the whisky jug over his head.

  “Cato—you’re one of nature’s gentlemen! So, buenos noches, amigo, buenos noches. I’ll see you back at the Midwestern in the morning.”

  Cato started to protest, but Locke was wasting no time. He steered the redhead up the fancy stairway to the plush rooms above and Cato’s protest died on his lips as they were covered by the moist red ones of the blonde clinging to his arm ...

  In the morning, there was no sign of Jonas Locke: either in the Midwestern nor the perfumed confines of Madame Silver’s. Cato groaned: and it wasn’t because of his hangover.

  Two – Wildcat Falls

  The blonde’s name was Swallow—all the girls in Madame Silver’s House had ‘bird’ names; she alone knew their real names—and she didn’t want to see Cato when he came back to the sporting house, grim from his hangover and the knowledge that he had maybe loused-up an assignment for the first time ever.