Red River Revenge (Remington Book 1)

by Robert Vaughan

  Shaw and Beck were right behind him and he checked his surroundings, as he always did. He rode the few feet to the main street of town and looked both ways. He turned south.

  “I hope we’re going in the right direction,” he said.

  “The fellow at the saloon said a mile down the road and a half a mile to the right,” Tom Beck said.

  “I know. ‘Down the road’ means south to me. I wonder if it means the same thing to him.”

  “There’s only one way to find out,” Shaw said. “If we’re wrong, we come back and start again.”

  Ned chuckled, but he didn’t feel the least bit jovial. Inside, it felt like furry caterpillars were crawling all over his nerves. He wasn’t afraid of danger. It was just the not knowing.

  “Well, gentlemen,” he said, “this may be the showdown we’ve been waiting for.”

  Chapter 13

  Ned Remington had no trouble at all following the drunk’s directions. He and his men rode south on the road from Nocona, about a mile, he figured, until they came to a side road. They turned right and it wasn’t long until they saw the woods. The path that had been cleared through the woods was narrow and the deputies rode single file.

  “Are you going to just ride right in there and arrest Van Hook?” Frank Shaw asked.

  “That’s what we’re here for,” Ned answered. “I see no need to sneak up on him. He knows we’re coming”

  When the three deputies emerged from the woods, a vast expanse of land stretched out in front of them. A huge ranch house sat in the middle of the estate, some fifty yards away, and Ned spotted the four men in the front yard right away.

  As Remington had expected, Van Hook’s henchmen were waiting for them. The fellows looked like cowhands and Ned was surprised that there were only four of them. He had expected more. Still, Van Hook would not be easy to take. He didn’t see Van Hook and figured he was inside the house.

  Ned didn’t stop, nor did he ride in fast. He kept his horse at a. slow, even pace as he rode toward the house. Behind him, Shaw and Beck now rode two abreast, flanking him. Sitting tall and straight on their mounts, they looked like a small army marching proudly to war.

  As they rode forward, Remington took in as much as he could with his eyes. The large, elegant ranch house sprawled all over the place. It was two stories high and looked out of place in this desolate part of the country. It was a house that belonged in the fanciest section of a big city. Remington had no doubts that the ranch house had been paid for by Van Hook’s illegal schemes.

  Ned scanned the dozens of windows at the front of the house, searching for some sign of Peter Van Hook. The curtains at every window were drawn tight.

  The grass seemed to go on forever. It was tall and lush, much like the grass in the pastures of the Cherokee village in Tishomingo. There were a few trees in the yard, but no flowers or shrubs or walkways to make the place pretty. It was obvious that Peter Van Hook had no interest in esthetics. He was more interested in what money could buy him.

  There were several outbuildings and way off to the left, were hundreds of heads of cattle, confined by a pole fence. The smell of their droppings was strong in the air. Remington wondered if some of those cattle belonged to Woody Miller. He wished he could check them out, but he had the evidence he needed in his pocket. Regardless, he was sure that all of the cattle had been rustled.

  The four cowhands who had been standing together near the porch when Ned had first seen them, had now wandered out into the yard. They stood a few feet apart, hands hovering over holstered pistols.

  Ned held the reins loosely in his left hand. His other hand rested on his upper thigh, near his own holstered pistol.

  Nobody spoke. The two groups of opposing men just stared at each other and waited for the other to make the first move.

  Remington could feel the tension build as he and his men rode closer to the ranch house, closer to the cowhands who were waiting to kill them. He expected them to start shooting at any minute and wondered why they hadn’t already.

  The front door opened and Peter Van Hook stepped out on the porch. Remington knew it was Van Hook from Mike Madonna’s description. Neatly dressed in fancy clothes, a business suit and polished boots, nice enough looking, the fringes of neat blond hair that stuck out beneath the white hat. Ned wasn’t quite close enough to see the rancher’s blue eyes, but he knew they would be cold and hard and vacant, like Madonna had said.

  “Are you Peter Van Hook?” Remington asked in a loud voice.

  “Yes I am,” Van Hook answered in an equally loud voice.

  “I’m Ned Remington, United States Chief Deputy Marshal,” Ned said. “I have a warrant for your arrest, Mr. Van Hook.”

  “For what?” Van Hook answered.

  “For receiving stolen goods,” Remington called.

  “Open fire, men,” Van Hook told his cowhands. “Shoot to kill.”

  The marshals fanned out as the cowhands snatched their pistols out of smooth holsters.

  Ned whipped out his pistol and fired at the bewhiskered cowhand who was aiming at him. He shot low, just a brief instant before the other man fired. Ned’s bullet slammed into the cowhand’s kneecap.

  The anticipation of getting hit was enough to throw the cowhand’s aim off at the last minute. His shot was high and the bullet zinged over Ned’s head. The cowhand screamed out in pain. He dropped to the ground and clutched his leg.

  Remington swung on another man as Frank Shaw fired a round. Frank’s shot was right on the mark. The tall cowhand he fired at staggered backwards then crumpled to the ground, his heart exploded.

  Two more shots were fired almost simultaneously and their echoes reverberated through the air.

  Ned squeezed the trigger and dropped the barrel-chested cowhand who had run up behind Frank’s horse and was just about to fire at the back of Frank’s head. Ned’s shot crashed through the man’s leg and shattered bone.

  Tom Beck had missed his first shot. The second one plowed straight through the heart of the only cowhand still standing. The man would die soon, but not as quickly as the one Shaw had killed.

  Suddenly the fight was over, with two of the cowhands dead, the other two badly wounded. The acrid stench of gunpowder would last a lot longer.

  Ned turned his horse toward the porch and trained his pistol on Van Hook. The rancher eased his hand toward his holster.

  “Don’t even think about it, Van Hook, or you’ll have three bullets in your head instead of just one,” Ned warned him.

  Frank and Tom rode up from behind and positioned themselves on either side of Remington, their weapons aimed at the wealthy rancher.

  “You’re under arrest, Van Hook!’ Ned repeated. “I have the warrant right here in my pocket.” He tapped his hide jacket.

  Ned eased down from his saddle and got a pair of handcuffs out of his saddlebags. He walked toward the porch, his pistol still aimed at the rancher.

  Shaw and Beck dismounted and followed Ned to the porch.

  “You’ll never get me to court,” Van Hook bragged as the three deputies walked up the steps. “I’ve got too many friends.”

  “When you get through in Judge Barnstall’s courtroom, you’ll wish we had killed you on the spot,” Remington told him.

  Ned holstered his own weapon, then reached over and slid Van Hook’s pistol out of its holster. He tucked it into his belt. With Frank Shaw’s help, Ned handcuffed Van Hook’s hands behind his back. Shaw patted the rancher down to make sure he didn’t have any concealed weapons,

  “Where are Paco Gaton and Norville Haskins?” Remington demanded.

  “I don’t know,” Van Hook said.

  “We’ll find them,” Remington said.

  “I’m sure you will,” Van Hook said sarcastically.

  It was then that Ned saw how dark and cold and vacant Van Hook’s blue eyes were.

  After they got Van Hook’s horse from the stable, the three deputies and their prisoner rode back to Nocona. It was late m the aftern
oon and the sun would be gone in another half hour. As they neared the Nocona Hotel, Ned wondered which room Killbuck and Lina were staying in. He glanced up the windows.

  Too late, Remington saw the movement on the roof of the hotel. A shot rang out and an instant later, Frank Shaw gasped, then moaned in agony.

  “Dammit,” Ned said as he glanced over at his friend. He drew his pistol and aimed it up at the roof. Beck drew, too, but kept his eyes on their prisoner in case he tried to escape during the commotion. Ned scanned the roof line, but there was no one up there, at least not that he could see.

  “Where’d you take the bullet?” he asked Shaw as he rode around to Frank’s side. He saw the stain of crimson spread across Frank’s upper sleeve.

  “In the arm,” Frank said as he clutched his arm beneath the wound and held it close to his body in an attempt to stem the bleeding.

  “How bad is it?”

  “I don’t know,” Shaw said. “It feels numb right now.”

  “Let’s get you inside the hotel where we can take a look,” Ned said. He looked up at the roofline again. Something caught his attention. Movement at one of the windows.

  Ned was shocked, when he saw the two men who had suddenly appeared in one of the upstairs windows. One of the men was Charlie Killbuck. The other man was a Mexican and Ned knew right away that it was Paco Gaton. Paco had a gun to Charlie’s head.

  “They got Charlie,” he said as he drew his pistol. He wondered if Lina was up there, too.

  Beck had noticed the movement, too, and was already looking up at the window, his pistol in hand.

  “Then the fellow on the roof must be Haskins,” Beck said.

  “Release Van Hook and I’ll let your friend go,” Paco shouted from the open window.

  “We can’t do that, Gaton,” Remington called back. “You let Charlie go. I’ve got a warrant for your arrest.”

  “I ain’t interested,” Paco shouted. “You let Van Hook go or I’ll shoot your friend in the head.”

  A crowd began to gather on the street, but they kept their distance. Ned didn’t like it. Peter Van Hook had too many friends in this damned town.

  Remington wished he could get a clean shot at the Mexican, but he couldn’t risk hitting Charlie. “We won’t let Van Hook go, Gaton,” he shouted. “We’re taking him in.”

  A shot cracked the air.

  Remington watched with horror. He was sick when he realized that Paco had actually shot Charlie Killbuck in the temple.

  “The dirty sonofabitch!” Tom Beck said.

  “My God,” Frank Shaw muttered. “Poor Charlie.” He still held his arm tightly.

  “You bastard!” Ned shouted.

  Charlie slumped forward onto the windowsill, the side of his head blown away. Paco shoved the body on out the window. The Cherokee’s body fell two stories and slammed to the hard ground with a loud thunk. The body landed ten feet away from Ned.

  Both Beck and Remington fired at the window, but Paco ducked out of sight.

  “Tom, I’m going up there,” Ned said. “I think Lina’s up there.” He started to dismount.

  “Too late,” Beck said as he stared up at the open window.

  Ned glanced up and saw Lina in the window with Gaton. The Mexican shoved the pistol against her temple.

  “Let Van Hook go,” Paco demanded. “Release him right now or your lady friend will end up the same way her poor uncle did.”

  “The bastard,” Remington mumbled. He couldn’t let Lina down the way he had Charlie. “All right, Gaton,” he called up. “We’ll let Van Hook go if you release Lina.”

  “Then do it now,” Paco shouted.

  “Let the girl go,” Remington demanded. He and Beck dismounted so they could untie their prisoner. “After Van Hook is free,” Paco said.

  Ned and Tom quickly unfastened the thongs that bound the rancher. “We’ll get you later, Van Hook,” Ned said. “You’re going to be punished for your part in this cattle rustling operation.”

  Peter Van Hook didn’t answer. He just took the reins in his hands and rode away.

  “Van Hook is free,” Remington called. “Let Lina go now.” He glanced up at the window and saw that Lina and Paco Gaton were not there. “Dammit, I’m going up there and get Lina,” he told Beck. “Can you get Frank inside the hotel?”

  “Yes, but you be damned careful, Ned. Paco might be waiting for you.”

  “I will.” Remington ran inside the hotel and dashed up the stairs. He figured out which room Lina would be in and didn’t bother to knock when he got there. He tried the door handle and found it wasn’t locked. With his pistol drawn, he shoved the door wide open and then hesitated as he peered into the room.

  He didn’t hear any sounds from within the room, but he knew it was the right one. Straight ahead of him was the open window and the blood-stained windowsill.

  His breath caught in his throat as he cautiously stepped into the small room and looked in both directions. He checked under the bed and even looked behind the straight-back chair.

  Lina Miller wasn’t there and neither was Paco Gaton. .

  “That dirty bastard,” Ned said out loud.

  Chapter 14

  Remington dashed back downstairs and saw Frank and Tom sitting in the lobby. Tom was checking Frank’s gunshot wound.

  “Lina’s not up there,” Ned said in an excited voice. “Paco’s gone, too. He’s kidnapped her.”

  “We’ll find them, Ned,” Tom said.

  “How bad is the wound?” Remington asked.

  “Not too bad,” Tom said. “The bullet went clean through the flesh. The desk clerk said there was a doctor up the street and I’m going to take Frank up there.”

  “Go ahead,” Ned said. “I’m going to check out back. I’ll meet you at the doctor’s office in a few minutes.”

  Ned stopped at the counter and asked the desk clerk if he had seen Lina and the Mexican come downstairs.

  “No,” the clerk said, “but I haven’t been here all the time. After the shooting, I went to fetch the sheriff. I just got back.”

  “Thanks anyway,” Ned said. He dashed down the hall and went out the back door. It was already dark outside. He didn’t see anybody in the alley. He walked around but couldn’t find anything that indicated that Lina and the Mexican had been there. He didn’t have a lantern and it was too dark to see much. In the starlight he did notice that there were a lot of hoof prints in the loose dirt, but he figured those belonged to customers of the hotel.

  Frustrated, he walked back through the hotel lobby, and then went to the doctor’s office. The elderly doctor gave Ned the report that he had cauterized the wound and wrapped it in sterile bandages. The doctor gave Ned a bundle of sterile clothes and told him to change the dressings at least once a day. He informed him that there was a chance that the wound would still become infected.

  Ned paid the doctor for his services and after the three deputies left the doctor’s office, Ned informed them that they had to track the girl down.

  “I think the outlaws teamed up and took Lina with them,” he said as he and Tom helped Frank up in his saddle.

  “Van Hook, too?” Tom asked. “Do you think he’s with them?”

  “I think so. And I don’t think they’ll kill Lina as long as they think we’re tracking them. Paco knows that I won’t risk her life. As long as they’ve got her, they’ll figure we won’t get too close.”

  “You’re probably right, Ned.”

  “You’re the tracker in the family, Tom. You got any idea where they might have gone?”

  Tom shook his head. “Hell, they could be anyplace. They could have gone back to Van Hook’s ranch. That would have been the smartest thing to do, but since we know where it is, they probably won’t risk it. We don’t know where Paco and Haskins live, do we?”

  “No,” said Ned. “But since the cattle rustling operation seems to center around here and the Red River Station, Van Hook has probably provided them with a hideout shack somewhere between here
and there.”

  “Didn’t someone tell us that Paco and Haskins were staying at a little town near the Red, downstream from Tishomingo?” Beck asked.

  “Yes. You think they went there?”

  “Hell, for all we know they could be out on another raid.” Tom said. “And that could be anywhere from here to the Nations, or on over to Arkansas, or maybe even Missouri. It ain’t gonna be easy.”

  “What about you, Frank?” Ned asked. “Do you feel up to riding tonight?”

  “Not really,” Frank said, his voice weak.

  “Tonight?” Beck said. “There’s not much we can do tonight except to ride around in circles and check out our hunches. It’d be better to wait until morning when I can look for tracks.”

  “I figure they’re going to be riding all night to put some miles between us,” Ned said. “If so, they may get too far ahead of us for us to ever find them.”

  “That’s a chance we’ll have to take, Ned. They’ve got to stop sometime to sleep. And Van Hook’s a prissy old lady. He ain’t gonna want to be sleeping on the hard ground. Not when his money can buy the best hotels and food in the country.”

  “We’ll wait until morning, then,” Ned agreed. “Maybe you’ll be feeling better by then, Frank.”

  In the morning, Frank Shaw was stronger. He felt good except for the throbbing pain in his arm.

  The three deputies left the Nocono Hotel at dawn and rode south far enough for Beck to know that he hadn’t found the tracks he was looking for. They turned around, rode back through town, and checked the tracks again when they were out on the open road.

  Tom finally found what he was looking for. One set of hoof prints was shallow and it was made by an unshod horse. That would be Lina’s Indian pony. He had noted before that her pony was unshod. He found a distinguishing mark on another set of hoof prints. One of the horseshoes had a triangular-shaped nick in it.