The Home of Great Western Fiction!
CONTENTS
About ROGUE GUN
Chapter One – Cold Feet
Chapter Two – The Morning After
Chapter Three – Quitter
Chapter Four – Mystery Job
Chapter Five – Stubborn
Chapter Six – Ride South
Chapter Seven – One More Gun
Chapter Eight – Revelations
Chapter Nine – Breakaway
Chapter Ten – Under the Canyon Rim
Copyright
The Bannerman Series
About Kirk Hamilton
ROGUE GUN
After Yancey Bannerman, Johnny Cato was the best Enforcer Governor Dukes had. Johnny might like good whiskey and bad women, but he was hell with the hide off when it came to putting away the bad guys.
But Johnny was a man with a secret. No matter the game, no matter how steep the odds, he just couldn’t resist the lure of the cards. And that gambling habit got him into debt, big-time, with some mighty shady characters.
Then the unthinkable happened. Johnny and Yancey came to blows over Johnny’s problem, and the one-time gunsmith quit the Enforcers about thirty seconds before Governor Dukes could fire him.
Johnny warned Bannerman that the next time they met, it would be through gunsmoke. Yancey believed him. But they’d been through so much together, he felt obliged to give Johnny one more chance to come good.
Big mistake …
Chapter One – Cold Feet
The Mexicans didn’t have a chance. They were on foot and they were trail-weary, having broken out of their huts during the night and run almost all the way to the Rio.
They staggered out of the canyon country and there before them lay the muddy, shallow waters of the Rio del Grande and on the other side lay Mexico and home. Most of them staggered to the water’s edge and dropped to their knees, plunging into the murky fluid face first, drinking and gasping. The water, though tepid, cooled their bodies and the leader lunged upright, called hoarsely, waving an arm towards Mexico.
“Onward, muchachos! The sun will reach here soon!”
Already sunlight was tipping the canyon rim behind them and a golden tide slowly flowed across the land. When it reached the river, the waters took on the color of blood. It was an omen.
The Mexicans waded back into the river making for the far bank, some chattering excitedly at the prospects of reaching home once more, after so many months of hell north of the Rio in the Estados Unidos. Home to wives and children who didn’t know if they were alive or dead. Home to the harsh, barren land of Northern Mexico and the mean hovels they shared with chickens and animals, but home.
Then the bunch of armed riders rode out of the deep shadow of the canyon wall and the leader, a lean, leathery man wearing patched clothing and with stubble fringing his iron jaw, lifted his rifle from its scabbard and began firing as he rode in.
“Cut ’em down!” he roared and his rifle blasted and the leader of the Mexicans, more than halfway across the river, threw up his arms and plunged face first into the water.
There were maybe seven men riding in and they didn’t pause at the riverbank. With guns blazing they charged into the muddy water amongst the fleeing, yelling men. Guns hammered and men screamed. The horses’ hoofs and the lunging, desperate men churned the water to froth and the reddish tinge wasn’t all from the early sunlight now.
The white men weren’t interested in clean kills, just kills. They shot wildly and indiscriminately and then rode their plunging mounts over the flailing bodies. They chopped downwards with gun-butts and rifle barrels, kicked out with boots. One man unbuckled his stirrup iron and went in swinging it murderously, cracking any skull that happened to get in his way.
There had been twenty Mexicans in the breakout and already eleven bodies floated in the churned-up river. The others were yelling and praying as they tried to get away, turning up and downstream, lunging in any direction as long as it was away from the murderous horsemen.
But they didn’t have a chance. One man stumbled, got to his feet and hurled a stone into the face of his pursuer; but he was the only one who resisted and he died an instant later with a bullet through the head. In less than five minutes all the Mexicans were dead and the leathery-faced leader of the horsemen sheathed his rifle and looked at the scattered, floating, bloody bodies.
He spat into the river and turned to his panting riders. “All right. Back to the ranch. We’ll find us another bunch of wetbacks!”
~*~
Yancey Bannerman figured right from the start that it simply wasn’t like his old pard, Johnny Cato, to think about settling down and getting married.
Not Cato. Not the small, woman-chasing gunfighter from Laramie, Wyoming Territory, who had sided him in so many Enforcer assignments for Governor Lester Dukes of Texas. They had fought side by side, with fists, guns, bottles and even with rocks, the only weapons available at the time. They had starved together, nearly died of thirst and gunshot wounds, staggered and carried each other through waist-deep snow and knee-deep alkali, under scorching suns and in freezing blizzards. They had shared whisky and beer and the last of their tobacco and food; if truth be known, they had likely even shared the same woman on some of their high-riding, howling escapades when they had been unwinding after a particularly tough assignment.
And men simply didn’t share all these things and not get to know each other pretty damn well; not just on the exterior, but way down inside, where the real man was. There was a kind of ‘chemistry’ between Cato and Bannerman; they could often anticipate the other’s thoughts and his planned moves, and this had proved to be a lifesaver on several occasions.
Men like that got to know each other’s strengths and weaknesses and if Cato had a weakness at all, it was for women. When the mood took him, he would take incredible risks just to be with a woman he fancied. At times it made no difference whether she wore a wedding band or not. He had been in many a scrape because of such recklessness and on more than one occasion, Yancey Bannerman had saved his neck But it didn’t cure him or prevent him from getting into exactly the same situation again. Cato was an incurable womanizer; often just the thought of women would be enough to sustain him in some tough chore and give him that extra spark of courage needed to blaze his way out of trouble. He just couldn’t bear the thought of dying when there were still so many women in the world he had yet to meet.
And that was precisely why Yancey had found it so hard to swallow it, when Cato had announced that he was going to marry young Marnie Hendry, a girl he had met on a recent assignment, one who had saved his neck and, in gratitude, he had brought back to Austin with him. Yancey felt that Cato figured he had made a mistake in doing this, that just by bringing the girl all the way to the Capitol with him he had sort of committed himself, that he had publicly proclaimed by this action that he had more than a passing interest in her. Which might have been true, but Marnie was a girl with stars in her eyes and she had seen it all as a prelude to white lace and orange blossoms.
She had in no way ‘trapped’ Cato, but she had taken a lot for granted and he felt so obliged to her for having saved his life that he had dodged the issue and avoided telling her the truth that his gratitude went no further than just that; he was mighty grateful. By the time he realized that the girl was making serious plans for marriage, he didn’t have the heart to tell her different and now, like it or not, Johnny Cato was on his way to the altar.
All along, Yancey had said it wouldn’t happen. Kate Dukes, the governor’s daughter, wouldn’t have it. She said preparations were well under way and her father had given permission for the wedding to take place in the mansion on Capitol Hill.
Cato had changed, too; he seemed much quieter, more thoughtful, and when he and Marnie and Yancey and Kate made up a foursome for an evening on the town, he was no longer the life of the party as in earlier times. He seemed to enjoy the stage shows they went to see, the good food in the town’s best restaurants and he always had a smile and a courteous arm for Marnie, but he lacked the old fire of the Cato Yancey had come to know.
“I reckon he’s having second thoughts about the whole deal, but he just won’t say anything and spoil it for Marnie,” Yancey told Kate one evening about three weeks before the wedding. “She saved his neck and he’s almighty grateful; he just doesn’t have the heart to tell her that he’s not a marrying-man.”
“Any man’s a marrying-man when the right girl comes along,” Kate pointed out a little stiffly. “And I think that Marnie’s the right girl for John. She's no softy, Yancey. She’s intelligent and, while at the moment she may seem to have her head in the clouds, she’s really got her feet on the ground. I think she’ll be a good influence on Johnny Cato, a steadying influence, and that certainly can’t do him any harm!”
Yancey was far from convinced. “Well, I can read the signs tolerably well, Kate, and I see Johnny getting mighty tense as the big day approaches. I reckon he’ll get cold feet before another week’s up.”
Kate frowned and looked at Yancey closely, studying every line of his weathered, rugged face, older than his twenty-seven years. The gray eyes met hers directly and held her gaze.
“I hope you’re wrong, Yancey,” Kate Dukes said very quietly. “I like Marnie and I like John. I would like to see them married and settled down, but if John backs out now ...” Her teeth tugged at her lower lip and she shook her head slowly. “Well, I would just hate it to happen, that’s all, for both their sakes.”
“It’s going to, Kate,” Yancey insisted in his quiet way. “I can see it coming. I’ve tried to talk to Johnny about it, but he gets right off the subject, just as if I’d never mentioned it. It’s a sure sign it’s worrying him like hell. I don’t want to see it happen either, but it will. And then I reckon we’ll really see Johnny Cato cut loose on the wildest, rip-roaringest wing-ding ever to try to get it out of his system.”
~*~
It seemed that Yancey was right. Three nights in a row, Cato made excuses for not going out with Yancey and Kate and Marnie seemed a very disappointed girl, though she tried to cover it well enough. She was normally a bright, brown-eyed and brown-haired girl who confessed to Kate that she really couldn’t believe her good fortune in winning a man like Cato.
With Yancey’s predictions in her mind, Kate tried to feel Marnie out: was she sure Cato wanted the wedding and wasn’t just going along with it because he felt it was too late to back out?
Marnie looked shocked at the suggestion. “Why on earth would you say a thing like that, Kate?”
Kate realized she had been less than diplomatic but saw that it was too late to cover up now. “I’m sorry, Marnie, it was a stupid way of putting things. What I meant to say was, that Johnny Cato has—well, something of a reputation with women here in Austin.”
Marnie smiled. “Not just here in Austin, Kate! Yes, I know about it. That’s why I said I’m fortunate that he wants to marry me.” She sobered abruptly. “I think he does, anyway.”
Kate frowned but said nothing as the girl clasped her hands in front of her and sighed, looking down at her lap. “I—I know that the last few nights when he’s made excuses for not coming out on our usual foursome evenings, he’s slipping into Austin alone. Oh, I don’t really mind him having a last fling, if that’s what it is, Kate. But I—I just have this terrible feeling that—that it’s more than that. In fact, just what you said, or inferred. That Johnny really doesn’t want to go through with it.”
Kate smiled and patted Marnie’s hand. “Look, I was undiplomatic, thoughtless. I really don’t know what came over me. I’m sure you’ll find it’s only John’s pre-wedding nerves. After all he’s a good deal older than you, by ten years at least. It’s probably very hard for a man of his age to give up his independence.”
Marnie studied her face carefully. “I hope you’re right, Kate. If you’re not, I—I don’t know what I’ll do. I really do love him.”
“Which is as it should be,” Kate said, forcing the lightness into her voice. “I’m sure it’ll be a lovely wedding. Yancey may have to hold Johnny Cato up while he nurses a hangover but I’m sure he’ll stand up there in front of the preacher and say ‘I do’ in a proud and loud voice, right alongside you.”
Marnie smiled but there was still some doubt showing in her eyes and once again Kate could have bitten her tongue for having said what she did.
It was no comfort at all that she realized she had only really voiced Marnie Hendry’s own fears.
~*~
At Kate’s insistence, Yancey went looking for Johnny Cato on the third night. He wished like hell he hadn’t.
He found him in the back parlor of the Glass Slipper Saloon, sitting in on a poker game with one of the painted girls from the ‘special’ rooms upstairs perched on the arm of his chair, helping him select his cards. Yancey came quietly into the room and stood silently just inside the door, idly pushing back one tail of his coat so that it hooked behind the butt of his Peacemaker.
Cato played his card, bought another and ripped out a curse that surprised even Yancey, for Cato was careful to watch his language in front of the fairer sex, no matter what their standing. The girl didn’t seem perturbed but that wasn’t the point. Yancey figured Cato must have lost a pile of cash or been very drunk—maybe both—to curse like that in front of the girl and some of her companions who were tending the other poker players. The dealer laughed, jammed his half-smoked cigar into his mouth, picked up his own cards and fanned them out in his hand.
“What you aimin’ to do, John-boy?” the man asked and Yancey recognized him as the head houseman, a tough cardsharp named Vella. “You gonna throw in your hand or pay to see mine? Either way, I figure you’re wiped out.”
Cato looked at him coldly and Yancey tensed as he saw how dangerous the small man’s face was. He had seen the look before, of course, but not in a card game, usually only when he was getting ready to kill an enemy. Cato flung down his cards with another obscenity and the girl on the arm of his chair smiled and puckered her lips in mock sympathy, ruffled his black hair as she kissed him lightly on top of the head.
“Never mind, John,” she cooed. “I’ll help you forget your run of bad luck!”
Cato turned to her with a snarl and sent her flying off the chair-arm. She sat down with a thump, the breath gusting from her, face comical in its surprise. “If I had enough money left for you to help me forget, I wouldn’t be askin’ for credit!” He paused and looked around the table at the suddenly hard faces of the other players. “Which is what I am doin’, gents. Will you be good enough to accept my note on this next hand?”
Before anyone could answer, the girl was up off the floor, screaming obscenities at Cato, lunging for his eyes with raking nails. Cato got an arm up swiftly, fending the attack, struggling to get out of the chair. The girl slapped and clawed at him, screaming, scratching, as he stumbled back. Then he stopped abruptly, blocked another slash with the nails aimed at his eyes and hooked a short blow into the girl’s midriff. She was brought up short, gagging, startled, eyes bulging. Her legs began to buckle in the suddenly silent room, the laughs on the faces of the gamblers freezing and fading slowly. The other girls stood up and backed off a little, looking apprehensively at Cato. He wiped sweat and some blood from his face, looked down at the moaning girl, then glanced at the other whores.
“Get her out of here,” he growled and turned back to the table, straightening his clothes a little as he sat down and splashed whisky from the table bottle into his glass. He tossed down the drink and, as his head moved back, he spotted Yancey in the shadows by the door. He froze momentarily and then slammed the shot glass back onto the table, his face hard as he me
t and held Yancey’s stare.
“Well, well, well. ’Evenin’, Yance. Marnie send you to look for me?”
Yancey shook his head. “It was my own idea. A pretty good one, too, seems like.” He walked forward and stood beside Cato’s chair, ignoring the other gamblers. “You’re cleaned out by all counts, Johnny. Nothing to keep you here now. So let’s go out to the bar for a quiet drink, huh?”
He dropped a hand to Cato’s shoulder but the small Enforcer shook it off irritably.
“I can get all the drinks right here. I ain’t finished playin’ cards, Yance.”
“I reckon you have, pard,” Yancey told him. He gestured to the hard-faced gamblers. “Leastways, I don’t see any of these gents fallin’ over themselves to agree to accept your note for the next hand.”
There was a query in his voice and he raked a cold stare around the table. He settled it on Vella who held his gaze a spell then shrugged.
“Well, I might take Cato’s marker. If he really wants to keep playin’,” the gambler said. “I know he’s good for it.”
“How?” Yancey asked swiftly.
Vella frowned slightly at Yancey’s curtness. “He always has been before.”
Yancey snapped his gaze down to Cato’s sober face. “You’ve given him notes before?”
Cato merely stared at Yancey, then turned and poured himself another whisky.
“Judas Priest, Johnny!” Yancey exclaimed, genuinely shocked. “You know that’s dangerous! You could wind up in prison doing a thing like that, in your job.”
“Hell, so what?” Cato growled, downing his drink. “Long as Dukes don’t find out.” Then his face straightened. “And I sure as hell hope he won’t now!”
Yancey’s face hardened. “You ought to know you don’t have to ask that!” he snapped. “But what in hell are you up to? Marnie’s sitting up there at the mansion waiting for you to come on back.”
Bannerman the Enforcer 5 Page 1
