by Corba Sunman
‘Get your hands up,’ he grated. ‘I want to search you, and then I’ll tie you to your saddle. Give me any trouble and you’ll be dead before you reach your last resting place.’
Moran raised his hands, aware that he had made a bad mistake in not attempting to overpower these men while he had a chance. He clenched his teeth as Donovan took his pistols. His hands were tied and Donovan roped him in his saddle before handling Ruth in the same manner.
They left the ranch. Donovan led the way, followed by Moran and Ruth, and Walker brought up the rear. They travelled at a lope through the shadows, and when they reached the open range, they slowed to a trot. Moran looked around.
‘I don’t think you’re so stupid you’ll obey Reinhardt’s orders,’ Moran said. ‘Turn me loose now, Donovan, and save yourself a heap of trouble.’
‘No chance,’ Donovan replied. ‘The boss gives orders and we obey. That’s the way it works around here.’
‘So tell me what’s been going on. There’s been trouble at the fort, and I’ve already worked out that Reinhardt is behind it, along with Bowtell.’
‘You know too much,’ Donovan said. ‘That’s why you’re going to sleep out on the prairie. If you know any prayers you’d better start saying them. You ain’t got much longer. There’s a nice little spot in a gully just ahead. Several men are buried out here, so you’ll have some company. Now button your lip.’
Moran made vain efforts to loosen the rope around his wrists before he gave up trying. Ruth spoke to Donovan, asking about her brother – why he had been killed, and who murdered him.
‘Why ask me?’ Donovan demanded. ‘I don’t know anything about what’s been going on at the fort. You should have asked the boss while we were at the ranch. Reinhardt has all the answers. You keep quiet now and we’ll put you away nice and easy.’
Moran had experienced some bad moments in his time, but nothing like this. He could see no way out. He did not expect Donovan to untie him, and he began to wonder if this was the end of his trail. He glanced at Ruth, riding at his side, her face pale in the starlight, taut and set with fear about what was going to happen to her. He felt a pang of pity for her, and something else that came from deep within him. He attacked his bonds again, with no success.
‘I wish I knew what happened to my brother,’ Ruth said suddenly. ‘Why don’t you tell me?’ she asked Donovan. ‘You’re in this trouble up to your neck so you must be aware of what’s been happening.’
‘Just shut your mouth,’ Donovan replied. ‘Your brother was a spy at the fort. He was poking around and asking questions about everyone. Just like you were doing in town. So he was killed to shut his mouth.’
‘Who killed him?’ Ruth’s voice quivered.
‘That’s the big question for you, huh?’ Donovan laughed. ‘And you’ll never know the answer. What kind of an idiot do you take me for? In this business you keep your mouth shut or wind up dead—’
‘We’re at the gully,’ Walker interrupted. ‘It’s just to the right. Let’s get this over with quickly.’
‘Are you losing your nerve?’ Donovan asked, and laughed brutally.
‘I’m not keen on killing a woman,’ Walker replied. ‘She ain’t done anything. It was her brother who was spying on us.’
‘What do you think she’s been doing while she’s been in town?’
‘Well, I don’t like it.’ Walker’s tone turned sullen.
‘Do you want to join them in the gully?’ Donovan demanded.
‘The hell I do! And I ain’t gonna stand by and watch a woman get slaughtered. You’re a cold-blooded killer, Donovan. It don’t bother you none, but it bothers me.’
They were reining in on the lip of a gully at the foot of a long slope. Donovan stepped down from his saddle and turned to untie Moran. Walker dismounted and approached Ruth.
‘Get back and watch Moran closely,’ Donovan snarled at him. ‘He’s the dangerous one, so don’t give him even half a chance.’
Walker grumbled, stepped back a couple of paces and covered Moran with his pistol. Donovan untied Moran and pushed him into the gully. Moran fell on his face and rolled on to his back. He looked up. Donovan was peering down at him, his pistol lined up on his chest.
‘This is it,’ Donovan grated.
A shot crashed. Moran clenched his teeth, tensed for the impact of a slug. But there was no flash from Donovan’s gun, and Donovan cried out as a bullet struck him in the back. He fell forward and toppled into the gully, his gun spilling from his hand. Moran rolled aside, and then threw himself on top of Donovan, his hands scrabbling in the deeply shadowed gully to locate Donovan’s dropped gun.
Moran’s fingers closed on the pistol and he thrust himself up on to his knees. The echoes of the shot were fading away into the distance, but his attention was centred on Walker, standing motionless, gun down at his side.
‘Who is out there?’ Moran called.
‘There’s no one out there,’ said Walker. ‘I shot Donovan. I’ve had enough of his bullying ways, the killing and the stealing. And he was intent on murdering an innocent woman! It goes to show how low this bunch has sunk.’
‘You’re free to ride out of here,’ Moran said.
Walker holstered his gun. Moran heaved a sigh of relief as he turned and freed Ruth, who fell against him as the rope dropped from her. He caught her and supported her, his gaze on Walker’s face.
‘You’d better ride a long way from here, Walker,’ Moran said. ‘Reinhardt is running a bad bunch.’
‘I’ll be long gone by sun up,’ Walker replied. He turned away, walked to his horse and swung into the saddle. ‘Good luck to you, Moran. I hope you’ll come out on top.’
‘You’ve given me a fighting chance,’ Moran replied.
Walker rode off into the night. Ruth began to stir in Moran’s arms, and he held her gently until she recovered her senses. She looked around quickly, and gasped when she realized they were alone.
‘It’s OK,’ he said. ‘Walker shot Donovan, and he’s gone now. We’re on our own. I’d better take you to the fort. You’ll be safe with the military. But I’d like to sneak back into Reinhardt’s yard and surprise him. With him behind bars, most of my problems will be over.’
‘Go for him before taking me back to the fort,’ Ruth said eagerly. ‘He’s been giving the orders around here so he’ll know who killed my brother.’
Moran shook his head. ‘I’m taking you out of danger and I’ll ensure that nothing else bad happens to you,’ he replied.
Ruth shook her head. ‘Just let me do this thing,’ she urged. ‘I can’t live the rest of my life on a knife-edge. I need to do what I have to do.’
‘All right, I’ll take you along. But you’ll have to stay back out of danger while I arrest Reinhardt.’
‘I promise,’ she said fervently.
They mounted their horses and rode back to Reinhardt’s ranch. It was around midnight when they sighted the spread, which was in complete darkness. Moran halted fifty yards out from the yard and looked around.
‘You’ll have to take cover somewhere around here,’ he mused. ‘And stay put until I come for you. Ignore anything that happens, and if it looks like I’ve failed then you’d better hightail it to the fort and talk to Sergeant-Major Craven; on no account try to approach Reinhardt or Major Harmon.’
‘I’ll do like you say,’ Ruth said. ‘Please be careful.’
‘Careful is my middle name,’ he responded.
She dismounted and led her horse into cover. ‘I’ve got a derringer in my pocket,’ she said, and I’ll use it if I have to.’ She sank down out of sight in the long grass.
‘I shouldn’t be too long,’ he told her, and rode on to the ranch.
He left his horse outside the yard and walked towards the house, keeping to the shadows. Silence enveloped him. The breeze was cool in his face. He expected to see a guard but there was no sign of life. He dropped to one knee, gun in hand, and checked the shadows. He saw nothing suspicious, and was a
bout to move on when he caught the smell of cigarette smoke on the breeze. It was gone in a flash but he tensed and waited. Several moments later, a shadow appeared around a corner of the house and disappeared into the blackness of the porch. He heard the sound of a loose board creak under the weight of a boot.
The guard passed along the porch and appeared on the other side of the house. He paused for a few moments, and then crossed to the bunk house. A door rattled, and lamplight filled a window with yellow glare. Moran closed in and peered into the bunk house. A man was in the act of propping a rifle in a corner beside a bunk, and he drew the makings of a cigarette from his breast pocket. Moran entered the bunk house, gun in hand, as the man struck a match.
Moran was surprised when he noticed there was no one else in the bunk house. The guard was turning to face him, and when he saw that Moran was a stranger, he dropped a hand to the butt of his holstered pistol.
‘Forget your gun,’ Moran snapped. ‘Remove it from your holster and throw it in a corner.’ He waited until the guard had complied. ‘Where’s the crew?’ he continued. ‘The place is empty.’
‘They rode out with the boss,’ the man replied. ‘Something came up that needed Reinhardt and some of the boys to handle it.’
‘Where have they gone?’
‘No one tells me anything around here.’ The guard shook his head. ‘They upped and left, and that’s all I can tell you.’
‘Which way did they ride when they pulled out?’
‘I didn’t see them go. Who are you, Captain? I guess you’re one of Reinhardt’s friends, huh?’
‘We’re very close.’ Moran smiled, and turned to leave. He moved to one side of the door and paused, but there was no reaction from the man inside.
Moran went back to where he had left Ruth. She did not appear until he called her name, and then materialized from deep shadow, holding a small pocket gun ready for action. Moran was impressed by her determination.
‘What happened?’ she demanded. ‘I didn’t hear any shooting.’
‘Reinhardt has pulled out with his crew. I’ve got no idea where they went, but I expect it means trouble for someone on the range.’
‘What can we do now?’
‘We are going to do nothing.’ Moran shook his head. ‘But I know what you’re going to do. I’ll take you to the fort and ensure that you’ll be safe. Then I’ll get on with my job.’
He fetched her horse and helped her to mount. They rode through the darkness to the fort, and discovered great activity taking place inside. The garrison was mounted and formed up on the square. Major Harmon was facing his command, and his officers were also on parade. Moran reined in on the edge of the square with Ruth beside him, and they watched the troopers wheel their mounts and begin to ride out of the gate. Harmon saw Moran but made no move to confront him. The whole garrison departed, and Ruth looked up at Moran.
‘Where are they going?’ she asked.
‘Your guess is as good as mine,’ he replied. ‘I’ll find someone to talk to. There’ll be a guard around, and he should know what’s going on.’
A figure appeared on the veranda in front of the administration block, silhouetted against lamp light, and Moran recognized Sergeant-Major Craven. He rode across the parade ground with Ruth close to his side. Craven saluted when he spotted Moran.
‘What’s going on, Sergeant-Major?’ Moran demanded.
‘Major Harmon has taken everyone out on a night patrol,’ Craven replied. ‘There’s only a small guard left here. It’s to do with discipline, sir, or the lack of it. By the time they ride back here tomorrow, there’ll be a different attitude among the men.’
Moran grimaced; the running of the fort had nothing to do with him.
‘I’ve got Miss Sandwell here. She fell into the wrong hands earlier, and I’ve brought her into the fort for her safety. I want you to take care of her until tomorrow morning. I expect to settle the trouble here before too long. Are my prisoners still behind bars?’
‘Yes, Captain.’
‘I’ll go to the guardhouse and get statements. I have enough evidence to pin some of the guilt where it belongs, and when the truth starts appearing, it won’t be long before the whole crooked business erupts.’
‘Can’t I stay with you, Captain?’ Ruth appealed to him.
‘It will be better for you to stay under the Sergeant-Major’s wing,’ Moran told her. ‘Try and get some sleep. You’ve had a bad experience, and tomorrow I shall need a full statement from you about what happened tonight. You’ll figure prominently in my investigation.’
Ruth permitted Craven to lead her away and Moran went to the guardhouse. Sergeant Comer admitted him.
‘Is everything OK, Sergeant?’ Moran asked.
‘All quiet, sir,’ Comer replied. ‘The sutler’s manager, Vernon, has been complaining about being held behind bars. He wants to see Reinhardt as soon as possible.’
‘So do I!’ Moran smiled. ‘Give me your keys, Sergeant. I want to talk to the men I arrested.’
Comer handed over his keys and Moran went into the cells. He looked through the barred door of the nearest cell and saw Bowtell stretched out on the bunk, apparently asleep, eyes closed, his breathing regular. Moran remained silent and motionless, and Bowtell’s eyelids began to flicker as moments passed. Finally Bowtell’s eyes opened and he stared at Moran.
‘What the hell do you want?’ he demanded.
‘A written statement from you, duly signed.’
‘Nothing doing. I’m not putting anything down on paper, and I’ve said all I’m gonna say. I told you I’d do a deal, but you’re not interested, so go ahead and do your job the hard way.’
‘I’ve got all the time in the world,’ Moran said, ‘and I’ll keep you behind bars until you do talk.’
‘I want to see a lawyer,’ said Bowtell obstinately.
Moran looked into the next cell and saw Gus Vernon pacing the length of his cell. Vernon halted, glared at Moran when he became aware of his presence, and came to the door of the cell and gripped the bars.
‘How long are you gonna keep me penned in here?’ Vernon demanded. ‘I’ve done nothing wrong, and I want to see the lawyer. I’m not in the Army so you can’t hold me. I demand to be set free. Where’s Reinhardt? Why isn’t he in here instead of me? He’s been fiddling the books, but I’m innocent.’
‘All in good time,’ Moran told him. ‘Make a statement about what’s been going on in the fort involving Reinhardt and maybe you’ll get out of here before the snow flies.’
Moran went to the next cell, his eyes narrowing when he saw Shorten sitting on a bunk, his expression ferocious, a cigarette held in his left hand.
‘I haven’t forgotten about you, Shorten,’ Moran said. ‘Have you got anything to say about your business with Major Harmon? I know there was a crooked deal going on between you two.’
Shorten scowled and averted his face, drawing hard on his cigarette.
‘Why did you kill Sergeant Bessemer?’ asked Moran in a brutal tone.
Shorten looked into Moran’s eyes and grinned but said nothing.
Sergeant Comer came into the cell block. ‘Can I have the keys, sir? My relief is outside.’
Moran handed over the keys and the sergeant departed. He heard the main entrance being unlocked and the door was opened. Then there was the sound of a blow and Sergeant Comer cried out. A body fell to the floor. Moran ran into the front office, drawing his gun. He saw Sergeant Comer lying on the floor, and six men were crowding into the office, all holding pistols. Reinhardt was leading them, and the sutler uttered a yell and lifted his gun to aim at Moran, who fired swiftly. Reinhardt pitched to the floor. Moran stepped back into the cell block as the men with Reinhardt turned to came into action, and the silence was ripped apart by hammering guns. . . .
CHAPTER TEN
A fusillade of shots bracketed the doorway to the cells. Splinters flew from the woodwork. Moran controlled his surprise. He slammed the door, slid home a thick iron bolt,
and then stepped back from the door. Bowtell came to the bars of his cell door, grinning.
‘I offered you a deal,’ he said. ‘Now it’s too late.’
‘Sit down and keep your mouth shut,’ Moran snapped. He backed out of the line of fire; slugs were boring through the thick door and slamming into the cells. Voices were shouting in the outer office, and Moran wondered what had happened to Reinhardt.
He glanced along the passage leading to a back door, ran to it, and was shocked to find it was not locked, and the iron bolt was out of its socket. The door opened to his touch and he peered outside. The shadows were dense but a pistol was fired from the right and a red streak of muzzle flame cut through the night. A bullet slammed into the door close by Moran’s head. He fired instantly, aiming for the flash, and then slipped out of the doorway and ran to his left. Another gun fired at him and he heard the bullet crackle into woodwork close by. He fired in reply and the gun fell silent. He kept moving, wanting to get around the guardhouse to the main entrance.
He heard voices shouting nearby, and guessed that the detail left behind to guard the fort was waking up to the fact that the fort was being attacked. He slid around the rear corner of the guardhouse and walked into a man coming from the opposite direction. Moran twisted sideways and missed the full force of the advancing body. The man yelled in surprise. Moran swung his pistol and slammed the muzzle against the man’s head. He followed him down to the ground and struck a second blow. The man relaxed instantly. Moran searched him for weapons.
The man was not in uniform, and Moran guessed he was one of Reinhardt’s men. He got to his feet and ran alongside the guardhouse to the front corner and stepped around it with his pistol raised. A man was standing in the open doorway of the guardhouse, keeping watch on the parade ground. He spotted Moran’s movement and lifted his pistol. Moran shot him and ran forward. He kicked the man’s gun away from the motionless body and kept moving, stepping across the threshold into the guardhouse.
Moran saw Reinhardt lying on the floor inside. Blood was dribbling from the sutler’s chest. He was semi-conscious, his face pale, eyes half-closed. Near him was the inert body of Sergeant Comer, who had a trickle of blood at his mouth and a large bruise on his forehead. A man was standing by the desk just inside the entrance, and he spun around at the sound of Moran’s feet, reaching for his holstered gun. Moran struck the man’s gun wrist as he drew a weapon, and then hit him squarely in the face with his gun barrel.
