Ralph Compton Straight to the Noose

by Marcus Galloway

  Seth had to think about it for a few seconds, but he eventually nodded. “I suppose he always did bring some young fellas with him whenever he boarded a vessel to make an inspection.”

  “He does,” Allison added. “I’ve seen him with the marshal when they’ve been stopping those boats here lately.”

  “Good,” Mason said with building excitement. “Seth can tell Lazenby what’s going on and bring as much help as he can back here. Allison, you lock yourself in your mother’s room where you’ll both be safe. Try to keep quiet. We’ll pass it off as if the two of you got away. There’s no reason Greeley would know about your mother being bedridden.”

  “Not unless he or one of his men comes upstairs to have a look for themselves,” Allison said nervously.

  “I’m not about to let that happen,” Mason said. “I know this isn’t ideal and I hate to put good folks like you in the line of fire, but—”

  “But nothin’,” Seth said with much less venom than the last time he’d used those words. “Greeley already knows where I am, so it ain’t like we was hiding in the first place. Besides, I’ve been itching to have a word with that snake ever since he floated away in my boat. Maybe I should stay here with you to greet him.”

  “No,” Mason said sternly. “We’ll stick to the plan. If this has any chance of working, we’ll need reinforcements, and Oscar Lazenby is just the man for that job.”

  Reluctantly Seth agreed.

  “All right, then,” Mason said. “It’s settled. Allison, you take that shotgun to use in case anyone makes it upstairs to get to you or your mother. Are there any other weapons in the house?”

  “I’ve got a hunting rifle,” she said.

  Remembering the rifle propped behind her rocker on the porch, Mason nodded. “Good. Anything else?”

  “No.”

  “That’ll have to do.”

  “And what if you get yourself killed?” Allison asked.

  Mason shrugged and simply replied, “I won’t.”

  “This is how it’s gotta be,” the old man said as if he’d been the one to come up with the plan in the first place. He handed her the shotgun. “Just let the men do their work and this’ll all be over soon.”

  * * *

  Mason stood at the end of the dock protruding from Seth Borden’s property, watching a plume of smoke work its way above the trees to inch toward the Borden place. It stopped before rounding the bend, bringing the Jack most of the way to the spot of the pickup. He checked his watch yet again and snapped it shut to wait for the promised meeting. Finally, and only slightly behind schedule, another one of the Jack’s rowboats came along. There were two men in pearl gray suits in the small craft, and thanks to the muscle behind the oars, they arrived at the little dock in no time at all.

  “You were supposed to bring two women along,” the first overman in the boat said. “Where are they?”

  “They’re in the small house,” Mason replied.

  “Go get them.”

  “How about you go back and get Mr. Greeley instead?”

  “You really want to start giving orders? Just because you’ve got those guns on you doesn’t give you any sort of edge. You even twitch toward them pistols and we’ll burn you down.”

  “I realize that,” Mason said.

  “And if you make any other moves we don’t much like, your lady friend waiting for you on the Jack will have a real bad night.”

  Mason’s eyes narrowed. “What did you say?”

  “You heard me. Mr. Greeley isn’t stupid. He knows you and Maggie have been keeping company and can get to her anytime he wants. She’ll be left alone so long as we’ve got them two women you were supposed to get.”

  “I know what this is about. I can save Greeley some time if he comes back here himself. Tell him that’s the only way he’s getting his hands on the papers he’s after.”

  “What papers?” the overman asked.

  Mason shook his head. “I did my part. All I’m changing is the spot where those ladies are being kept. I’ll explain myself further but only to Greeley.”

  “You don’t give orders around here.”

  “And you don’t know where I put those papers. Kill me and you’re going to be the one to row back to Greeley and tell him he’ll just have to take his chances on his own with those government men. Don’t try to tell me you don’t know what I’m talking about, because I can already see in your eyes that you do.”

  That struck a nerve with the overmen. One looked to the other and then said, “Fine. I’m staying here with you and he’ll go get Greeley. It ain’t like he’s got far to go.”

  “That’s the spirit,” Mason said.

  The first overman climbed out of the boat and onto the dock. As soon as his boots hit the wooden slats, the second gunman started rowing away. There wasn’t much of a current and it moved in the overman’s favor. The rowboat made swift progress going downstream.

  “Which house is it?” the remaining overman asked.

  “The smaller one,” Mason said while pointing in that direction. The larger house was darkened now and the smaller structure had a few lanterns burning inside its first-floor rooms. When he turned around, Mason was being held at gunpoint. He hadn’t even heard the overman draw.

  “Drop the guns,” the overman said. “Slowly.”

  Having already gone through the motions several times by now, Mason went through them again and disarmed himself quickly. Both Remingtons hit the dirt near his feet, followed by the knife.

  “Move,” the overman demanded. As soon as Mason turned and walked toward the smaller house, the overman scooped up the pistols and kicked the knife into the grass away from the dock.

  It was a short walk to the small house, and when they got there, the overman stepped to one side so he wasn’t in line with the door or windows. “You got anyone waiting in there and you die first,” he warned.

  “I just want to get this over with as quickly as possible,” Mason replied.

  “Then you should’ve brought them hostages to the dock like you were supposed to.”

  “One of them is bedridden,” Mason explained. “And Seth Borden himself made arrangements to send those papers to the law if he didn’t check in with his attorney every so often. Anything happens to him and we all go to jail.”

  “Yeah,” the overman said. “We’ll see about that.”

  Mason was afraid of this. Getting Greeley to step foot off the Jack was a long shot, but it was worth a try. When he saw the deadly confidence on the overman’s face combined with the tone of his voice, Mason knew that rowboat was coming back with reinforcements and Cam Greeley wouldn’t be among them.

  Approaching the front door of the smaller house, Mason looked over to the man beside him and asked, “What’s your name?”

  “Huh?”

  “Your name. You know my name and I know Greeley’s name. All I know about you men in the gray suits is that you’re overmen.”

  “What more do you need?”

  Mason opened the door. “Just being sociable.”

  “Pete,” he grunted.

  “There. That was easy.”

  Mason stepped inside first, followed by Pete. The lanterns that had cast their light upon the windows were placed on small tables here and there. Apart from those tables and a few chairs covered in sheets, there were no other furnishings to be found.

  “Where are they?” Pete asked.

  “In the kitchen. Tied to the stove.”

  Pete held his pistol at hip level and used it to motion in that direction. “Go on, then.”

  Mason strode through the house and was about to push open the kitchen door when Pete said, “Stop right there.”

  “Yes?”

  “You got anything hidden in there,” Pete warned, “and you’ll get a bullet through the knee.”

&
nbsp; “You’ve got nothing to worry about,” Mason said.

  “So open the door!”

  Mason pushed the door open halfway. He must not have been moving fast enough, because Pete lunged forward and kicked him in the stomach. When Mason let out a grunting breath, he was shoved against the wall next to the door. His back hit and his feet slipped out from under him, causing him to land heavily on his rump.

  Moving cautiously past him, Pete shoved the door the rest of the way open while keeping his gun aimed at Mason. “What kind of fool do you take me for?” he snarled after looking into the kitchen. “There’s nobody in there.”

  “Really?”

  “And lookee here,” Pete said as he found the hunting rifle that Mason had propped against a table.

  When Pete leaned in to grab the rifle, Mason bent his left arm sharply. The holdout device buckled to that arm extended smoothly, but instead of a high card, the clamshell was clamped around his two-shot derringer. Although the modifications Mason had made to the device allowed it to hide the gun up his sleeve, he hadn’t had enough time to perfect it. As soon as the metallic arm was fully extended, the derringer slipped from the clamshell and clattered to the floor.

  The overman turned around, but couldn’t move as smoothly as he normally would since he was wedged halfway between the kitchen door and its frame. Pete still had his pistol aimed in Mason’s direction and he fired a quick shot. Because Mason needed to duck down to pick up the derringer, the bullet punched into the wall above him.

  Mason’s hand found the derringer and he flopped onto his side to present an even smaller target. Before Pete could fire again, however, Mason pulled his trigger. The derringer popped once, hitting Pete in the right shoulder and causing him to stagger away from the door. Mason took better aim and sent his second round into Pete’s chest.

  The overman hacked up a breath and leaned against a wall for support. He tried to lift his pistol, but his strength was fading thanks to the two small-caliber rounds lodged in him.

  Mason jumped to his feet and hurried past the overman to grab the hunting rifle. “You can sit there and wait for someone to get you some medical attention,” he said, “or you can do something stupid.”

  Pete hacked up one more breath before using his last bit of strength to lift his pistol and point it at Mason. The hunting rifle spat its round into him long before Pete could take his shot. The rifle had much more kick than the derringer and dropped Pete to the floor.

  Mason set the rifle down and took the dead overman’s pistol. The next thing he did was pull up his sleeve and remove the holdout device. If Pete had searched him any differently than the overmen usually did, he might have found the device strapped to Mason’s arm. In fact, many factors could have spelled disaster for him, but luck had nothing to do with it. Observation, planning, and patience were the keys. Now those familiar allies just had to stay with him a little while longer.

  He pulled off his boot and reached inside for one last weapon he’d smuggled off the Delta Jack. Mason tucked that weapon into his pocket, pulled on his boot, and went outside to collect his guns. Only then was he prepared for the final hand to be dealt.

  Chapter 36

  Mason charged into the main house with the hunting rifle in his hands. He stomped inside and kicked the door shut behind him before yelling, “It’s only me, Allison.”

  From upstairs, Allison shouted, “I heard shooting next door.”

  “Yeah. It turned out all right. Stay in that room, though. I’ll let you know when it’s safe.”

  “All right,” she said.

  Mason picked a spot in the front room where his back was to a wall and he had a clear line of sight to the front door as well as to the bottom of the staircase. He took a knee, held his rifle in the closest semblance to a firing stance that he could manage, and waited.

  It wasn’t long before he heard voices outside but couldn’t tell if they were coming from the road or the river. Mason quickly realized it was both, since the voices rose into shouts with gunshots quickly following.

  “All right,” he whispered. “Here we go.”

  Most of the gunfire sounded like pistol shots, but Mason wasn’t absolutely certain. When the shooting waned, the shouting flared up. And when firing commenced again, the shots came quicker and closer together.

  More shouting.

  Fierce shooting.

  Enraged, desperate voices.

  The gunshots ripped back and forth until Mason thought they simply wouldn’t stop.

  Finally something heavy battered against the back door of the house. Mason shifted to point the rifle in that direction to see who might be coming.

  Footsteps thumped against the floor as a familiar voice drifted through the air. It was one of Greeley’s men and he rushed toward the stairs.

  Mason pulled his trigger and put the man down.

  Outside, the shooting had stopped.

  The front door swung open and Seth Borden walked inside.

  “Sir,” someone shouted from the porch. “Let me go inside first. I heard a shot.”

  “I know!” Seth said. “I heard it too and my family’s in here!”

  Mason stood up with the rifle held in a loose grip across his body. “What happened out there?”

  “Oscar Lazenby brought a few men with him as deputies. Men fresh out of the army, mostly. I brought ’em all here and when we showed up, a group of them gun hands in gray suits were coming out of the trees. I imagine you heard the rest.”

  “Any of those gunmen left?” Mason asked.

  “One or two. They’re being trussed up so they can be brought to the local law. How about you tell me what happened in here?”

  “This one came in, probably looking for the papers or someone to use as a hostage. He didn’t find either.”

  “That’s not Greeley.”

  “I know.”

  A few other men walked inside behind Seth. One was a tall, gangly fellow with a trimmed beard and a few strands of dark hair hanging from beneath his bowler hat. Seth hooked a thumb toward him and said, “That’s Oscar Lazenby.”

  Lazenby tipped his hat. “I don’t suppose you’d know where we can find Cameron Greeley?” he asked in a smooth British accent.

  “Yes,” Mason replied. “I believe I do.”

  * * *

  The Delta Jack was sitting less than a quarter of a mile from Seth’s dock. When Mason, Lazenby, and a few of the federal deputies boarded her, there were only a couple of overmen to be found. Since the hired guns weren’t idiots, they surrendered to the superior numbers without a fight. Mason himself went straight to the main theater and headed for the office in the back. Just for his own amusement, he knocked on the door before entering.

  “Come in,” Greeley said casually from the next room.

  Mason opened the door and stepped inside. “Hello, Cam.”

  “Where’s them hostages?” Greeley asked as he got up and walked around his little desk.

  “You really don’t know, do you?”

  “Know what? That you’re gonna get your teeth knocked out before I toss you over the side of this boat? Oh, I know that real well.”

  Smiling, Mason said, “Do you see any gray suits around me? That’s because there aren’t any left. They’re either dead or under arrest. Now come on out and get what’s coming to you before things get even worse.”

  Greeley scowled and flipped his jacket open to uncover the pistol hanging at his side.

  “Give it a rest,” Mason said. “If you were any good with that thing, you wouldn’t have so many gunmen around to keep you from getting those soft hands dirty.”

  “What did you just say to me?”

  “I’m saying I’ve played this game long enough to have you figured front to back. You’re a sniveling little coward who isn’t even good enough to be called an outlaw. At least m
ost outlaws have some sand to them. You can’t even stand up to a mercantile inspector, let alone steal a boat properly.” Mason wasn’t worried about speed when he drew the Remington from his shoulder holster. His read on the man in front of him was spot-on, since Greeley didn’t so much as twitch toward the gun he’d so proudly displayed. “Lose that pistol,” Mason said.

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Greeley said rather unconvincingly as he gingerly removed his firearm and threw it into a corner.

  Mason reached into an inner pocket and pulled out a bundle of folded papers. Slapping the papers onto the desk, he said, “There’s the legal documents you were after. How did you even get your hands on this boat anyway? Actually, forget I asked. Even if you stood there and explained it all to me, I don’t care. All those men on your precious list are alive and well, which means you had a good run but it’s over now.”

  Greeley walked right over to him and sneered. “You’re real tough right now on account of those guns you’re wearing.”

  “You’re afraid.”

  “Of you? Hardly.”

  Mason removed his shoulder holster and tossed it into the corner where Greeley’s pistol had landed. As he removed the sawed-off Remington and tossed it there as well, he said, “You’re afraid of losing what you’ve got. Any gambler worth his salt will tell you that’s a fatal weakness.”

  “Close that door and we’ll see who walks out of here.”

  “You’re also afraid of witnesses,” Mason said while walking to stand in the doorway. “That’s why you wanted Simons dead. Because he knew all about you hiring murderers and sending them off to have good men killed just to suit your needs. He also knew who, exactly, your first overmen were. He had names and I’m sure at least a few of them have a bone to pick with you. What’d you do? Cheat them on their pay? Hang some of them out to dry when they got caught by the law while on one of your filthy errands? Any one of those sounds about right, coming from you. At the very least, Simons could connect you to known murderers, and that’s something you simply cannot abide.”

  “You’re dead.”