Fort Hatred

by Corba Sunman

  Ruth shook her head and did not speak.

  ‘This gives a good picture of what was going on, and it clears some of the mystery of your brother’s death,’ Moran mused. ‘When I first heard that he had been killed I imagined he had upset someone in town, but now it looks as if he was killed by someone in the fort.’

  ‘I hope you can uncover the activities of the guilty men,’ she said, ‘and I’d like to know the identity of Frank’s killer.’

  ‘Can I take this notebook with me?’ Moran picked it up. ‘I can stir up a hornets’ nest with it.’

  ‘Certainly.’ She smiled wanly. ‘But be careful you don’t get stung in the process.’

  He nodded and put the notebook into a pocket. ‘I must go now, but I’ll be back to talk to you again.’

  She smiled, and he arose and departed, suddenly finding himself with a great deal to do. He went for his horse, intending to ride out to Shorten’s horse ranch. His mind picked over what he had learned from the notebook like a buzzard ripping its prey. His head had eased somewhat by the time he neared Shorten’s place, and as he rode towards the gateway, he heard the sound of several horses approaching from the opposite direction. He rode swiftly into cover, and did not reveal his presence when he saw the blue uniforms of cavalry. A troop of soldiers from the fort rode into the ranch and opened the corral gate. They hazed the horses into the open and headed them in the direction of the fort. Moran waited until they had gone from sight before leaving cover to enter the ranch yard.

  He entered the shack and looked around intently, wanting records of Shorten’s dealings with Major Harmon. He found nothing, and guessed that a man like Shorten would not keep anything that might tie him into any deal. He made a mental note to check with Harmon about recent remount transactions.

  The sound of hoofs outside alerted him and he drew his pistol before moving to the window overlooking the yard. Three riders were coming towards the shack, and Moran stepped into the doorway as they drew within gunshot range. Two of the men were in their twenties, range-dressed and hard-eyed. The third rider was better dressed, a tall, lean man who looked as if he could take care of himself in any situation. He was older, and when he spoke, the tone of his voice gave Moran the impression that he was accustomed to giving orders.

  The three men slowed their pace at the sight of Moran. Two of the men dropped their hands to the butts of their holstered guns and eased back slightly. The third man came on determinedly, undaunted by Moran’s ready gun.

  ‘Who are you and what are you doing here?’ he asked in a rough tone.

  ‘I’m Captain Moran, military provost. I’m investigating some trouble at the fort. What’s your name?’

  ‘Deke Yelding. I own the Lazy S ranch. One of my men was out this way earlier and heard shooting, so I’ve come along to see what’s doing. Where’s Shorten?’

  ‘He’s taking some remounts to the fort. Are you a friend?’

  ‘Hardly. He doesn’t have friends. But I’m his neighbour, and I thought he might be in trouble.’

  ‘There’s a lot of trouble around here,’ Moran said.

  ‘Are you looking for the deserter, Clark?’ Sloan asked.

  ‘What makes you think of him?’

  ‘I hear a new officer had turned up at the fort and was looking into the trouble there.’

  Moran smiled. ‘The folks around here seem to learn of events before they happen,’ he mused. ‘What’s your interest in Clark?’

  ‘No interest at all. They say he’s a killer as well as a deserter, and he deserves to hang, if he’s guilty.’

  ‘We hang men only after they have been proved guilty, and all the evidence so far indicates that Clark did what has been claimed and laid against him.’

  ‘If you’re new to the fort then you won’t know what’s been going on,’ Yelding said.

  ‘If you know anything, I’d be very interested to hear what you have to say. What’s on your mind, Yelding?’

  One of the two men accompanying Sloan came forward, and as he passed behind the rancher, he drew his gun and cocked it. Before Moran could react, he found himself looking into the levelled weapon, and the face behind it was filled with deadly intent.

  ‘Drop your gun and put your hands up,’ the man grated, ‘or you’ll stop lead.’

  Moran opened his fingers and his gun thudded on the ground.

  The man grinned. ‘I hear you’ve been looking around town for me,’ he said.

  ‘Who are you?’ Moran demanded.

  ‘Trooper Clark, the deserter everyone wants to see hanged; the man you came to Fort Hatred to arrest.’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Moran concealed his surprise. He shrugged. ‘What’s the point of this?’ he demanded. ‘Why did you stay around here after breaking out of the fort?’

  ‘I’m not guilty of the charges and I had an idea that if I stuck around, I might prove it. Now I’m not so sure. I’ve been railroaded into this situation, and they’ll kill me before I can get started.’

  ‘I’m here to get at the truth of those charges against you, so if you’ve got anything to say then you’re talking to the right man. Why don’t you surrender to me and let me handle it? If you’re innocent then I’d surely prove it.’

  ‘No dice! I’m between a rock and a hard place, and there’s no way out for me. I guess the only thing I can do is head for greener pastures and lose myself in the wide blue yonder.’

  ‘Why don’t you take the time to tell me exactly what happened at the fort and how you came to be saddled with murder? Name the men who want to see you found guilty of their crimes.’

  ‘I can’t risk losing. My life is at stake and my freedom is all I have. Why should you care about me? If I surrendered to you I’d wind up in the guardhouse again, and next time there won’t be any chance of escape.’

  ‘I’m not a man to take evidence at face value,’ Moran said. ‘I make my decisions on the evidence I gather. I shall check on every line of evidence in this case, and if it does not stand up to investigation, I will eliminate it.’

  Clark shook his head. ‘I can’t take the chance. They’ve got a hanging rope picked out for me at the fort, and I can feel it around my neck right now.’

  ‘Give me a chance,’ Moran said. ‘I’ve already learned that something is bad at the fort that stinks to high heaven. In fact, I may be your only hope.’

  Clark shook his head. ‘I can’t risk putting my life on the line. I guess it’s time to cut my losses.’

  Moran looked into Clark’s eyes and saw what he thought was honesty. He realized that he had to consider the case from the aspect that Clark was innocent, and as he did so a different situation confronted him.

  ‘You’ll have to give me some proof that you are telling the truth,’ he said. ‘Is there anyone at the fort who can corroborate your claim to innocence?’

  Clark shook his head slowly. ‘They’ve set me up against the grindstone. I can see that now.’

  ‘Then try to convince me that you are telling the truth. Give me facts that I can check. I have no desire to produce a miscarriage of justice.’

  Yelding, who had remained silent during Clark’s insistence of innocence, spoke in a warning tone.

  ‘There’s dust over in the direction of the fort. It must be a patrol, and it’s coming this way.’

  Clark turned instantly and ran to his horse. He mounted, whirled the animal, and in a few moments he was lost to sight in the brush. Moran made an instinctive move towards his pistol, which was lying at his feet, but Yelding covered him with a gun and warned him to stand still.

  ‘You have the right idea of not taking the evidence against Clark at face value,’ Yelding said. ‘There is a lot wrong at the fort and the guilty men are running free. If you go for Clark and arrest him, you’ll be aiding the bad men, for they’ll see Clark hanged out of hand and all suspicion will die with him.’

  ‘I’m in no position yet to make up my mind about who is guilty,’ Moran mused. ‘If Clark would trust
me and give himself up it would make my job easier. But I can understand his reluctance. I won’t pursue him now, but now I know he’s still in this area, I shall have to take steps to apprehend him.’

  He saw six troopers and a Corporal coming into the yard. Yelding holstered his gun.

  ‘I’ll be making tracks,’ he said. ‘You’d better keep your wits about you, Captain. The men who have framed Clark won’t stand by and let you spoil their game.’

  ‘I’m well aware of the dangers facing me,’ Moran replied. ‘Before you go, tell me, do you employ two men called Coe and Watson?’

  ‘Never heard of them.’ Yelding touched his hat brim and rode away, followed by his rider. They disappeared around the shack. Moran picked up his pistol, dusted it off, and thrust it into his holster. The patrol came up and the Corporal saluted.

  ‘I didn’t expect to find you here, Captain,’ he greeted. ‘I’m Corporal Benteen.’ He was tall in the saddle, bronzed, and looked fit and tough. ‘My orders are to find you and check if you are OK.’

  ‘Thank you, Corporal. I was about to return to the fort.’

  ‘Were you having trouble with that rancher, sir?’

  Moran shook his head. ‘No, I was talking to him about local conditions.’

  He swung into his saddle and rode towards the gate. Corporal Benteen came to his side.

  ‘I have to make a trip to Cactusville, sir. Will you be OK to continue to the fort alone?’

  Moran smiled. ‘I’m quite capable of riding alone, Corporal. You can go about your duty.’

  ‘Yes, sir, thank you, sir. It’s all a matter of orders, Captain.’ He saluted and turned away, calling to the patrol to follow him.

  Moran was immersed in thought as he continued. None of his previous investigations had been easy, but this one looked as if it could turn into a humdinger. But he was looking at Clark’s case in a different light as he pushed his mount into a lope and headed for the fort.

  He went to the guard house, found Sergeant Coman on duty, and was taken to Shorten’s cell. The horse rancher was sullen, and complained about his horses corralled on his spread. His expression changed when Moran told him the remounts had been collected and brought to the fort by a detail of troopers.

  ‘When are you gonna turn me loose?’ Shorten’s voice rasped.

  ‘It will be a long time before you see the outside again,’ Moran told him. ‘There’s a charge of murder that could hang you, and even if you’ve got friends in high places they wouldn’t be able to help you.’

  ‘What do you mean, friends in high places?’

  ‘You’ve been dealing with the fort for a long time, so I’ve been told.’

  ‘Everything has been above board. Are you hinting I ain’t on the level?’

  ‘I haven’t said a word about your dealings, so why are you protesting so strongly?’

  Shorten shrugged. ‘You’re trying to pin a murder on me, so it’s natural to think you’ll hook on very other charge you can think of. But I didn’t shoot your sergeant, and you can’t prove I did.’

  ‘Who handles the remounts when you bring them in?’

  ‘Major Harmon and Jackson, the farrier sergeant, give them the once-over. They select the ones they want, I get paid for what they select, and I push the rejects back to my place.’

  ‘Do you keep accounts of your dealings?’

  ‘No need to. It is cash on the barrel-head, and everyone is satisfied. I’ve never had any complaints.’

  Moran left Shorten moaning about his incarceration and went to the headquarters office. Sergeant-Major Craven called the two clerks to attention and saluted.

  ‘Sergeant-Major, do you keep the remount ledger in the office?’ Moran asked.

  ‘No, sir. Major Harmon handles the remounts, and that ledger is on the shelf in his office.’

  ‘Is the Major in the fort?’

  ‘He hasn’t returned from Cactusville yet, sir. Usually he doesn’t get back until the early hours. Do you need that ledger now?’

  ‘I shall have to check it as a matter of course. Get it for me, and I’ll read it in my quarters.’

  Craven fetched the remount ledger and Moran tucked it under his left arm.

  ‘Did you make any progress in town, Captain?’ Craven asked.

  ‘Yes, I did. I saw Clark.’

  ‘Clark?’ Craven looked up at Moran to see if he was joking. ‘Did you arrest him, sir?’

  ‘I didn’t get the chance. I talked to him some, and then a patrol showed up and Clark made a run for it.’

  ‘Hard luck, Captain, but now we know for certain he’s still around here, I’ll order extra patrols out tomorrow to look for him.’

  ‘No, don’t do that. I have the feeling that I’ll be able to get him without a lot of fuss when I want him.’

  ‘I don’t understand, Captain.’

  ‘That makes two of us, but when I start throwing rocks into the water, the situation, after ripples, will become clear. Keep the news about Clark under your hat for now. OK?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Moran departed. When he reached his quarters, he found his orderly, Myhill, waiting for him.

  ‘Anything I can get you, Captain?’

  ‘I’d like some information, Myhill. I need to know what was going on around the fort before my arrival.’

  ‘I can’t speak out of turn, sir.’

  ‘I’ll ask you a number of questions and I want you to answer them truthfully. I am the officer detailed to investigate the situation here, and as such I am able to question, and I expect to get truthful answers. If you don’t answer truthfully you could incur severe penalties. Is that clear?’

  ‘Yes, sir. But I don’t know anything about what’s been going on. There are always rumours on an Army post, but most of them are false.’

  ‘Just answer my questions. Let’s find out what you do know. If someone in the fort was running a racket involving the remounts, who do you think would be responsible?’

  ‘Is that what you’re looking for?’ Myhill looked relieved, and drew a deep breath. He thought for a moment and then nodded. ‘Shorten sells remounts to the fort, so he’d be involved, sir.’

  ‘And who is likely to be in it on the military side?’

  ‘Colonel Davis used to handle the remounts, but he was posted away. It was said he was unfit for duty.’

  ‘And was he?’

  ‘I don’t know, sir.’

  ‘You’re an officer’s orderly, so who were you taking care of before I arrived at the fort?’

  ‘Lieutenant Sandwell. He was shot dead on the parade ground, Captain.’

  ‘Someone wanted him dead. Have you got any thoughts on that?’

  Myhill shook his head. ‘Whoever is on the wrong side of the law doesn’t go around with a placard pinned to his back telling all and sundry. I don’t think you’ll find a single man in the fort who would be willing to tell you what he knows.’

  ‘And for the same reason you’re refusing to answer questions. That’s not good enough, Myhill. Someone has to stand up and be counted.’

  ‘It would take a braver man than me to do that. My father told me before I joined the Army to keep my mouth shut and my eyes open; he knew a thing or two.’

  ‘OK, we’ll call this off for now, but I’m not finished yet. All I want is for someone who has been here during the past few months to tell me what he saw or heard and I’ll do the rest. I’ll give you time to think about what I’ve said, and I leave it to your conscience what you do.’

  ‘What happens if I decide not to say anything, sir?’

  ‘That will depend on how my investigation is going at the time.’

  ‘Can I get you anything, sir?’ Myhill was obviously relieved to change the subject.

  ‘Not right now. I’ll have a meal in town later. Right now I want to go through this remounts ledger.’

  ‘I’ll come back at six, sir,’ Myhill said, and withdrew.

  Moran settled down to read the ledger, and at first gla
nce it seemed straightforward. He turned to the summary of evidence once more, looking at it from the point of view that Clark was innocent and some of the statements might have been made by a guilty party intent on heaping blame on him. He found several points which needed clarifying, and made notes to check later.

  He sat musing over what he had read, and it was fairly obvious that he had to start using the usual tactics to make headway in the case, which meant starting a hunt for guilty men. It would be a longer, more searching method, but he was convinced that if there were guilty men trying to blame Clark for murder then he would be able to reveal it, given time.

  Myhill reappeared at six. Moran dismissed him from duty for the evening, and was riding out of the fort an hour later. He went into Cactusville and led his horse into the stable, where an old man appeared, frail and unsteady on his feet.

  ‘I’m John Barfield,’ he announced. ‘You’re new around here, Captain? Are you replacing someone at the fort?’

  ‘No, I’m here on other business,’ Moran replied. ‘Are there any soldiers in town this evening?’

  ‘If there are then I doubt I would see them. They won’t pay my prices. There are a couple of barns on the back lot behind the saloon, and most soldiers put their mounts in them. I lose a lot of trade to Pete Marks, who runs the barns as stables.’

  ‘I’ll leave my horse until I’m ready to ride back to the fort later.’ Moran tendered a silver coin but the stableman shook his head.

  ‘I don’t charge officers,’ he said. ‘If the place is closed when you come back, you can get in through the side door, and take your horse out the same way.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Moran watched Barfield lead his mount away, and went out to the street to look around the town.

  Shadows were beginning to gather in the corners as shadows lengthened. A cooling breeze blew along the length of the street, and although the sky was filled with celestial fire, the day-long heat diminished appreciably. Moran went to the saloon and ordered a meal, which was served with a glass of beer that had been iced. He enjoyed the meal and relaxed with the beer, his mind gnawing at the facts he knew and seeking those which he had not yet discovered. He was jolted out of his thoughts by a figure that lurched against his table, and he looked up quickly to see Deke Yelding leaning over him.