Lawman without a Gun

by Clive Dawson

  Grimly, Frank replied, ‘My guess is they’ll wait until we’re plumb out of ammunition and then storm the place.’

  Just at that moment, Anne came back. ‘We’ve lost four men and three have been wounded,’ she said. There was a note of anguish in her voice. ‘How many of those outlaws do you think are still out there?’

  ‘Enough,’ Frank said tersely. ‘I reckoned there were between twenty and thirty in that bunch when they crossed the alkali. We’ve probably downed over a dozen of ’em.’

  ‘There’s somethin’ happening over by the stables,’ called one of the men at the far window.

  Frank immediately swung his gaze to the right. In the same moment, Everley rasped harshly, ‘Damnation. They’re goin’ to fire them.’

  Already, three men carrying lighted brands were racing in the direction of the stables. Swiftly, he snapped a couple of shots after them, saw one man stumble, then haul himself to his feet and carrying on running.

  Holding the burning brands aloft for a moment, the men hurled them into the shadowed interior. Within seconds, the fire took hold. For an instant, the three men stood silhouetted against the spreading blaze, then ran back along the way they had come, hurling themselves down under cover.

  In the red light from the blaze, streaming through the window, Frank saw the look of strained anger on Everley’s face. From inside the stables came the shrill neighing of the terrified horses. Without warning, the rancher lurched to his feet, lunging towards the door.

  Swiftly, Frank reached out and caught him by the arm. ‘Don’t be a damned fool!’ he hissed. ‘There’s nothin’ you can do. The minute you step out there, you’ll collect a bullet.’

  Everley struggled fiercely, then sagged back against the wall, his features twisted into a mask of fury. Turning his head, Frank stared at the stables. Smoke, thick and laced with spears of red, came boiling out of the doors. Then, without warning, dark shapes appeared through it.

  Somehow, most of the horses had kicked themselves free of the stalls. Now, they came stampeding across the courtyard in a solid wave of tossing manes and muscle. The thunder of their frantic run hammered at the ears of everyone in the room, drowning out all other sounds.

  Above the racketing din, Frank shouted, ‘Everybody keep their eyes open. This is what those killers wanted to happen.’

  Somehow, he knew this stampede had been foreseen by the men surrounding the ranch. It was a planned diversion to mask some other move they intended to make.

  The last of the terror-stricken horses disappeared along the trail. Behind them, a thick cloud of dust, thrown up by their pounding hoofs, hung like a curtain across the courtyard.

  Straining his vision, Frank watched intently, waiting for any movement. His first intuitive thought was that the rest of the band intended to use this obscuration to creep up to the house. Then, at irregular intervals through the dust, he made out the flicker of fire.

  Everley had seen it too. ‘They’re comin’ to try to burn us out.’ He yelled the warning at the top of his voice. Lifting his Colt, he sent several shots through the window. A vague form stumbled and fell, the brand flying from his hand.

  Frank fired instinctively, saw another man fall. Then the hammer of his Colt fell on an empty chamber. Cursing under his breath, he flung himself to one side, pulling fresh shells from his belt and thrusting them into the gun.

  Something spluttering redly flew over his head and landed on the floor several feet away. Without pausing to think, he tugged hard at the heavy drape near his head, tearing it down. Running forward, oblivious to the slugs that hummed viciously close to his head, he began beating savagely at the flames.

  Someone else joined him but with the smoke bringing tears to his eyes, he was unable to make out who it was. For a frantic moment, it seemed the fire would spread out of control in spite of all their efforts. Then, dropping the drape over the flames, he stamped hard on it.

  Only then, did he realize it was Anne standing beside him, a thick cloth in her hands. Through the grime on her face, he saw her teeth bared in a grimace.

  Almost choking on the smoke, he ordered harshly, ‘Get back under cover, unless you want to get yourself killed.’

  He saw her hesitate as if she hadn’t heard him. Then, bent almost double, she moved back towards the wall. Following her, Frank crouched down before risking a quick glance through the window.

  Three bodies lay sprawled on the courtyard, two with smouldering brands beside them. Sporadic gunfire still echoed from around the ranch house but for the most part the outlaws remained under cover.

  ‘Do you think they’ll pull out now that their attack’s failed?’ Anne asked in a low murmur.

  Shaking his head, Frank replied, ‘Not a chance, I’m afraid. They came here to do a job and they won’t go until it’s finished. My guess is they’re readyin’ themselves for a final attack, hopin’ we’re low on ammunition.’

  ‘If they do, we’ll have to make every shot count,’ Everley put in. ‘We don’t have many rounds left and—’

  He broke off sharply and lifted his head slightly. Somewhere in the distance, there came the sound of more riders approaching at a swift pace. Judging by the sound, Frank estimated there was a large number of them, coming from the east.

  There was a faint note of despair in Everley’s voice as he muttered. ‘Seems we figured wrong. These coyotes must’ve had a second band in readiness, waitin’ to move in.’

  Checking his Colts, Frank readied himself. Within moments, the flooding moonlight picked out the advancing riders strung out in a lone line. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, he realized there were at least fifty men out there.

  At the windows, the rest of Everley’s men held their weapons ready to meet this new threat. Frank judged the riders were almost beyond the range of a revolver shot and wished he had brought his Winchester.

  Then, without warning, Everley pushed himself to his feet, lowering his gun. There was a look of stunned amazement on his features. Harshly, he called, ‘Hold your fire, men! Those ain’t outlaws. That’s Dan Mason and the rest o’ the ranchers.’

  Scarcely were the words out of his mouth than a vicious fusillade of shots rang out from the mounted men. Taken by surprise from the rear, the gunhawks attempted to flee, running for their mounts. Under the withering fire which poured into them from every side, only a handful made it back to the track.

  Five minutes later it was all over. Going outside, Frank held his gun ready but the men lying there in the courtyard were all dead. Everley came out to stand beside him as the other riders approached.

  Swinging from the saddle, a tall, broad shouldered man came forward. Everley said tautly, ‘Guess we owe you a lot, Dan, turning up when you did.’

  Nodding, the other stared around him for a moment, his gaze lingering on the still-burning stables. His features were grim as he replied, ‘Two of the boys ridin’ herd picked up the sound o’ gunshots and when we saw the fire, we guessed you were in trouble. Are these those outlaws they reckon Bellamy sent for?’

  ‘That’s right,’ Frank put in. ‘I spotted ’em earlier headin’ across the flats.’

  ‘Then I guess we’ve got Bellamy dead to rights,’ retorted the other. ‘You ridin’ back to arrest him, Sheriff?’

  Frank gave a nod. ‘First, there’s one thing I need to check.’ He motioned Everley to come with him. Together they walked to the trail. Here, there were more bodies. Cautiously, Frank approached the figure lying against the rockwall.

  The man was still alive and he struggled fiercely to lift the Colt in his right hand but lacked the strength to do so. Staring down at him, Frank said, ‘Luckily this one will live to stand trial. He’s the critter who rode out o’ the hills to meet these outlaws. Do you recognize him Jim?’

  Kicking the gun from the man’s limp hand, Everley bent. A moment later, he straightened and gave a nod. ‘His name’s Cranton. He was the leader o’ that bunch who held up the stage. I’d know him anywhere.’

&n
bsp; Frank gave a grim smile. ‘Then I reckon we have all the proof we need to convict Bellamy. This is one crime he ain’t going to wriggle out of.’

  CHAPTER X

  SWIFT RETRIBUTION

  Frank waited patiently while the two men lifted Cranton, his hands tied tightly behind his back, onto the back of the buckboard. The man had lost a lot of blood but he didn’t doubt the outlaw leader would live to stand his trial. The fire which had partially destroyed the stables had been extinguished and several men were now out, rounding up the horses which had stampeded during the night.

  Everley and Anne came out a few minutes later. Throwing an enquiring glance in the girl’s direction, he said, ‘I reckon you went through a lot last night, Anne. You still thinkin’ of staying here on the ranch?’

  He saw her smile and there was a warm glow at the back of her eyes. ‘It won’t always be like this. Now we’ve beaten those outlaws and if Bellamy is put in jail, I think Condor could grow into a fine town.’ She paused; then went on, ‘It would take more than what happened last night to make me run.’

  Returning her smile, he said, ‘I guess it would.’

  Standing beside the buckboard, he waited until she had climbed on board, her father sitting beside her. Taking the reins, Everley flicked the whip, heading towards the trail into town. A few moments later, Frank was riding beside them. Behind him came a small group of men from the neighbouring ranches, all grim and determined men, ready for any trouble which might arise.

  Several of the townsfolk were abroad on the boardwalks as they rode into Condor. Hauling on the reins as they reached the sheriff’s office, Everley motioned to two of the men with them.

  Getting down from the saddle, Frank looped the stallion’s reins over the hitching rail, then unlocked the door. Already, a curious crowd had gathered as the two men pulled Cranton from the buckboard and forced him inside.

  ‘I need a doctor,’ the outlaw muttered, as they took him to one of the cells, thrusting him onto the low bunk.

  Slamming the cell door shut, Frank said, ‘I’ll see that Doc Pearson takes a look at those wounds, Cranton. In the meantime, just lie there and reflect on your past sins. It won’t be long before there’s a rope waitin’ for you.’

  ‘If I do swing, that polecat Bellamy will be beside me,’ Cranton snarled viciously.

  Frank grinned. ‘You can be sure o’ that,’ he said tightly.

  Going outside, he found Everley and Anne standing on the boardwalk a few feet away.

  ‘We both want to be in on this, Frank,’ Everley said harshly. ‘This crooked banker would’ve seen all of us ground into the earth if he’d had his way.’

  Together, they walked to the bank standing adjacent to the doctor’s surgery. For a moment, Frank debated whether to ask the doctor to go along and check on Cranton, then dismissed the thought. The outlaw leader could wait for a while until he had finished with Bellamy.

  Thrusting open the door of the bank, he went inside with Anne, her father close on their heels. There were several customers inside. They watched with open curiosity as Frank walked around the side of the counter.

  One of the clerks moved forward. ‘You can’t go in there, Sheriff. Mister Bellamy doesn’t want to be disturbed. He’s goin’ over the bank accounts and—’

  Frank spoke through tightly clenched teeth. ‘Just get back to your job unless you want to be arrested for impedin’ the law.’

  For a moment, the teller tried to make a stand, then noticed the look on Frank’s face and hurried back to his place behind the counter.

  Pushing open the office door, Frank went inside. Bellamy was seated in his usual place behind the desk. He looked up sharply as they entered. For an instant, an expression of fear flashed across his puffy features, then he drew himself together.

  ‘What’s the meanin’ of this intrusion, Sheriff?’ he demanded harshly. ‘I’m getting’ a little tired o’ you exceedin’ your authority in this town and—’

  ‘On your feet, Bellamy,’ Frank said with a trace of menace in his voice. ‘I’m arrestin’ you for your part in these stage hold-ups, for bein’ implicated in the murder of Sheriff McDonald, and hirin’ outlaws to raid the ranches.’

  Bellamy pushed himself upright. There was a sneering smile on his thick lips. ‘You’ve got no proof of any of this.’

  ‘No?’ Everley stepped forward. ‘Right now we’ve got that outlaw Cranton safely locked away in jail. He’s spilled everythin’.’

  ‘You’re lyin’.’

  ‘You reckon so?’ Frank took a step forward. ‘Mebbe you’ll change your mind about that when we put you into the cell next to him. Now get your coat and come with us.’

  Bellamy’s shoudlers slumped fractionally. He seemed on the point of saying something more; then thought better of it. Turning, he took his coat down from the peg on the wall. Then, before either man could move, his hand flashed down to the pocket, pulling out a derringer.

  He pointed it directly at Anne. ‘Over against the wall, both of you,’ he snapped, speaking to Frank and Everley. ‘If you make one move towards your guns, the girl gets it. From this distance, I can’t miss.’

  Cursing under his breath, Frank moved back, keeping his hands well away from his sides. With Anne’s life at stake, he knew there was nothing he could do.

  Edging around the side of the desk, Bellamy ordered Anne to turn round. Thrusting the gun into her back, he snarled, ‘I’m goin’ to walk out of here with her in front of me. Leave this room before I’ve gone or make any wrong move and I swear I’ll kill her. If you value your daughter’s life, Everley, you’ll make sure this trigger-happy sheriff doesn’t do anything foolish.’

  Helplessly, Frank ground his teeth in silent fury. Inwardly, he berated himself for not expecting something like this on Bellamy’s part.

  Anne walked slowly in front of the banker, a riot of thoughts running through her mind. She knew that Bellamy meant every word he said. With a rope staring him in the face, he would shoot her down without a second thought.

  Slowly, she stepped out onto the boardwalk with the banker just behind her. There had been several people in the bank, consternation written on their faces. But there was nothing they could do to help her.

  The sudden shot, when it came, sending echoes chasing each other along the street, made her flinch. For several moments, she stood there, unable to comprehend what had happened, scarcely able to believe she was still alive. Then she turned slowly just as Frank and her father came running through the door of the bank.

  Curt Bellamy lay face downward in the dust, the derringer lying a couple of inches from his outstretched hand.

  ‘Guess I can still handle a gun when I have to.’

  Ben Sheldon, a bandage around his head, stood leaning against the window of the doctor’s surgery, a smoking Colt in his right hand. Grinning broadly, he added, ‘I don’t hold with shootin’ a man in the back but in this instance, I’ll make an exception for a snake like Bellamy.’

  ‘Thanks, Ben. It seems you’re always in the right place at the right time.’

  Frank stepped forward and caught Anne’s arm as she swayed slightly, tearing her gaze from the dead man at her feet. ‘It’s all over,’ he said quietly, as she leaned against him. ‘Once the folk o’ this town discover who those men on the Town Committee have been in cahoots with, I reckon they’ll make a lot o’ changes. First thing they’re goin’ to need is a new sheriff.’

  She looked up at him in surprise, a wondering expression in her eyes. ‘You’re giving up this job?’

  He nodded. ‘That’s right, once they elect a new lawman. I had to quit the job in Dodge City after what happened. Then I swore never to carry a gun again. Somehow, I think a more peaceful life on the land would suit me better if your father’s offer is still open.’

  ‘You know that goes without saying, Frank,’ Everley said. ‘Once you’ve finished here, you’ll be welcome.’

  Anne slipped her hand into Frank’s as they walked back to the wait
ing buckboard. As he helped her onto the seat, she leaned forward. Her grip on his hand tightened as she murmured, ‘Don’t make it too long, Frank.’

  Copyright

  © Clive Dawson 2006

  First published in Great Britain 2006

  This edition 2012

  ISBN978 0 7198 0678 0 (epub)

  ISBN978 0 7198 0679 7 (mobi)

  ISBN978 0 7198 0680 3 (pdf)

  ISBN978 0 7090 8031 2 (print)

  Robert Hale Limited

  Clerkenwell House

  Clerkenwell Green

  London EC1R 0HT

  www.halebooks.com

  The right of Clive Dawson to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988