Bannerman the Enforcer 5

by Kirk Hamilton

  That surprised Yancey and he frowned before nodding slowly. “Several times.”

  “Good. Then you must feel indebted to him.”

  “Sure. But it’s see-sawed back and forth some. I’ve saved his life a couple of times, too.”

  “But you still owe him?” Blayne insisted.

  “We don’t think of ‘owing’ each other anything, Blayne. We’re closer than that. Now what’s this all about?” Yancey’s face was hard, voice steel-edged.

  Wyatt was tense and alert but Steve Blayne still seemed relaxed enough in his seat. “It’s quite simple, really,” he told the Enforcer. “Cato owes me some money and can’t pay. I’m just contacting a few of his friends to see if any of them are willing to go to bat for him.”

  Yancey was as taut as an iron rod now, his jaw jutting, eyes pinched down. “What’s he owe you money for, Blayne?”

  “The reason doesn’t matter,” Blayne said, waving the question aside. “The point is he owes it to me and I want to make sure I can collect. If not from him personally, then from some of his friends. You seem to be head of the list.”

  “How much?”

  “Aw, I won’t embarrass Cato by spreadin’ the word on that just yet. I’m a reasonable man. I’ll give him a little time. Just playing it cautious and making sure there’s some sort of back-up. You did say you’d back him, didn’t you, Bannerman?”

  “Go to hell, Blayne,” Yancey told him grimly. “I’d have to know a hell of a lot more about this and hear it from Cato himself before I’d say one way or the other.”

  Blayne sighed but his eyes were colder than ever. He shifted his gaze a little and shook his head slightly. Yancey stepped back and to one side, right hand dropping to his gun butt as he spun to face Wyatt. The man’s face was pale and ugly with anticipation of a gunfight but Blayne shook his head again, frowning deeper.

  “Any time you want, Wyatt,” Yancey told him in a low voice.

  “Fine with me!” snapped the gunfighter.

  “I said no!” Blayne snapped and he glared at Wyatt until the man forced himself to relax and his breath hissed out between his slightly parted lips.

  “You’ll keep, Bannerman. I’ve been wantin’ to meet you for quite a spell.”

  “That’s the difference,” Yancey told him. “I’ve no hankerin’ to meet you. I’d as lief pick up a rattler as shake hands with you.” He flicked his icy stare to Blayne, “And lay off Cato, mister. He’s a friend of mine, like you say. If he’s in trouble, I’ll back him.” He slapped a hand to gun butt, startling Wyatt. “With this.”

  He raked them both with a final stare, then heeled and strode on across the plaza. Wyatt was quivering in his eagerness to draw on Yancey.

  “Climb in, Waco,” Blayne ordered quietly, picking up the reins. “Forget Bannerman. We can’t use him. But we found out what we want to know. Cato’s our meat.”

  Waco Wyatt reluctantly climbed up beside his boss and Steve Blayne flicked the reins and drove off in the opposite direction to the one taken by Yancey.

  ~*~

  Johnny Cato nearly jumped out of his skin when the door of the room slammed open as if it was being kicked off its hinges. The half-dressed girl gave a squeal of alarm and pressed back against the wall as Yancey stormed in. Cato bounced up off the bed and Yancey straight-armed him, knocking him back violently, reached past him and grabbed the frightened saloon girl.

  She started to scream and fight as he dragged her over towards the door and he lifted her bodily, tossed her out into the passage and then slammed the door on her cries and curses, turning the key in the lock. Cato, face white with anger, came up off the bed and lunged across the room to stand in front of Yancey, quivering, fists knotted.

  “What in hell d’you think you’re doin’, Yance!”

  Yancey looked past him, saw the whisky bottles on the bedside table, Cato’s shirt and gun belt over the back of a chair, his boots in a corner. The big Enforcer, mouth pressed into a tight, razor-thin line, shoved Cato roughly back until the man’s legs hit the edge of the bed and he was forced to sit down. As he made to get up again, angrily, Yancey shoved him back.

  “Judas, Johnny, what’s wrong with you?” bawled Yancey. “You try to get up one more time and I’ll slug you, pard! I mean it! You sit there and listen to me or we’re gonna have one hell of a falling-out, I’m telling’ you!”

  Cato sat down on the bed, breathing hard, glaring up at Yancey, reeking of whisky. He flicked his eyes to his gun-rig on the chair, the holster bulging with the massive weight of the Manstopper, his special gun that fired forty-five cartridges and a twelve-gauge shot-shell through a second, underslung barrel. Then he looked back at the savagely angry Yancey.

  “I’m damned if I know what to say,” Yancey growled. “I feel like smashing your bonehead through the wall!”

  “What’s wrong with you?” demanded Cato.

  “Steve Blayne’s what’s wrong with me!”

  Cato blinked, frowning, obviously genuinely puzzled. “Who’s he?”

  Yancey started to retort, controlled himself and forced himself to speak in a normal voice. “He’s one tough hombre. I met him in the plaza earlier today and since then I’ve done a heap of checking on him. He’s a snake, Johnny, and he’s backed up by a killer named Waco Wyatt.”

  “Wyatt I know. Leastways, I’ve heard of him,” Cato said quietly. “But I dunno this Steve Blayne. And I’m damned if I know why you come in here like a maniac and throw out my gal.”

  “Even without Blayne I’d have done that,” Yancey told him sourly. “After all your assurances to Marnie and me.”

  Cato looked uncomfortable. “Oh, I guess you found out about some gamblin’ I did.”

  “Yeah, I found out. For one thing, you only owed Vella fifty bucks and you used that extra twenty-five I gave you to play some more. And lose to him again! But that didn’t stop you. You wrote another I.O.U. You’ve written several since and I hear you’re in debt to the tune of hundreds.”

  Cato clamped his lips tightly together and looked up defiantly at Yancey. “I told you it was worse than boozin’!”

  “It sure as hell is. But it’s a lot worse than you know, mister. You don’t owe Vella anything anymore.”

  Cato stared in puzzlement for a few moments and then a slow smile spread across his face. “Ah, hell, Yance, that was decent of you. Damned decent! Now don’t you worry, I’ll square away with you. You’ll get your money back.”

  “I didn’t pay your I.O.U.s,” Yancey said harshly.

  Cato blinked. “But—but I don’t savvy this. You just said I don’t owe Vella anythin’.”

  “Right. You owe it all, plus some mighty stiff interest, to Steve Blayne. He’s bought up your I.O.U.s from Vella, and every other gambler around who you owed money to. He’s even taken over your feed bill at the livery which you ain’t paid for weeks. Same as he’s paid the rent on your room. But you owe it all to him. You’re in debt to him to the tune of well over a thousand bucks now, amigo. How do you like that, huh?”

  Cato didn’t like it at all, in fact, couldn’t swallow it at first. But then he knew Yancey wouldn’t joke about a thing like this and he had sure been on the prod when he had stormed in here and thrown that gal out.

  “Why in hell would this Blayne want to buy up my I.O.U.s?” Cato asked finally.

  “Your guess is as good as mine, but I hear tell that he’s been buying up other hombres’ debts, too. Not just here in Austin, but from all over. Sounds to me like he aims to have a lot of hard hombres in his power.” Yancey’s voice hardened. “And you’re in a mighty dangerous position, Johnny. If he uses those debts to pressure you, he could have you doing almost anything.”

  “Like hell!” Cato growled. “I’ll go and see him and—”

  “And what?” snapped Yancey. “Ask for ’em back? Only way you’ll get ’em is to square up what you owe and mebbe that won’t be enough, either. He might not want you to redeem them.”

  Cato frowned. “You’re say
in’ he’s gonna put pressure on me with those notes to force me to do somethin’ he wants?”

  “That’s my guess. And you work for the governor, remember.”

  Cato snapped his head up. “Get off that, Yance. You’ve used that before with me and I told you there’s nothin’ to worry about. I wouldn’t harm Dukes under any circumstances.”

  Yancey stared coldly at him. “Just like you wouldn’t cheat on Marnie or gamble with Vella anymore?”

  Cato flushed and stood up and roughly knocked aside Yancey’s arm as the big man made to thrust him back down. “I’ve had enough of you shovin’ me around, Yance! Fact, I’ve had about enough of this whole damn town and the people in it! Hell, can’t you leave a man be? I’ve got problems, sure; well, for hell’s sake let me work ’em out! I don’t need you for a nursemaid nor anyone else, either!”

  “You need someone ridin’ herd on you. Look at the trouble you’re in by playin’ the lone rider! I’m not sure I could get you out of this even if I felt like trying.”

  “Well, no one’s asking you!” Cato snapped and shoved Yancey so hard that the bigger man stumbled. “Now get the hell out of my way—out of the room—out of my life! I’ll work things out my own way!”

  “You’re doing a great job so far.”

  Cato growled something deep in his throat and shoved past Yancey to get at the table where the whisky was. He splashed some of the liquor into a glass and tossed it down. He poured and drank two more shots in as many seconds. Yancey frowned and walked over, putting a hand on his friend’s shoulder. Cato whirled and struck his hand away.

  Yancey held his temper with difficulty. “Johnny, I’ve tried to get through to you. I’ve tried to help. But you won’t let me, you won’t really take me into your confidence. Now, I admit I’m damn savage about the way you’ve been treating Marnie and for letting yourself get in such a position with gambling, but forget all that. If you’re in real trouble and need my help, all you’ve got to do is ask. No, don’t even ask. Tell me what’s behind this and if I can see a way of lending a hand I will. What d’you say, amigo?”

  Cato’s eyes were warm with friendship, but only momentarily. Almost immediately they closed down and became chill and remote again as he poured yet another drink and tossed it down.

  “Yancey, just get the hell out of here and leave me be,” he said without heat, but it seemed to have more impact because of that. “It’s my deal. All the way. No one else’s. I’ll handle it. My way.”

  Their gazes met and held and Yancey could see that Cato was in one of his stubborn moods and nothing would shift him.

  “You’re gonna hurt a lot of folk, Johnny. Includin’ yourself.”

  “My worry, not yours!”

  Yancey sighed. “Then I guess that’s it. We got no more to say to each other.”

  “Suits me,” Cato said tightly, his bleak stare unwavering.

  Yancey gave him a curt nod and heeled sharply, striding to the door and unlocking it. He paused with his hand on the latch, looked at Cato.

  The smaller Enforcer was already pouring another drink. He tossed it down as Yancey opened the door and stepped out into the passage.

  Chapter Three – Quitter

  Yancey walked right into it. There was a knock on the door of his hotel room that night as he sat on the bed smoking, thinking about Cato and Marnie. He glanced at the silver pocket watch on the bedside table and wondered who was calling on him at eleven o’clock at night. It was an hour when most of Austin was already asleep.

  He went slowly to the door, pausing only long enough to pick up his Peacemaker from the chair. But when he eased the door open and saw Cato standing in the passage, agitated, he let the gun hang down at his side while he opened the door all the way.

  “What is it, Johnny?” he asked and next minute he was staggering back across the room, his lips smashed against his teeth and blood sprayed over his chin. Before he could recover, Cato was in the room, kicking the door closed, and lunging across, teeth bared, fists cocked again. Yancey tried to dodge but was still off balance from the first blow and his feet slipped on a throw rug. Cato’s hard fist landed on his temple and lights blazed behind his eyes. A boot caught him in the side as he collapsed against the bed, half-sitting, trying to get up. Cato’s knee snapped up and took him on the forehead, slamming him back.

  And that was all Yancey aimed to take.

  His first shock had gone now and there was only pain and anger and it drove him to his feet, through the kicking boots and hammering fists. He came up close in to Cato and hooked the smaller man two hard blows in the ribs. He knew Cato was one of the best rough-and-tumble fighters around despite his size and he didn’t aim to let him get the upper hand again. As Cato stumbled backwards, Yancey stepped after him, hooked him again in the ribs on that same spot and heard him groan in pain. He sagged and Yancey hooked him on the jaw, raised his right fist and clubbed it down onto the smaller man’s neck.

  Cato was driven to his knees and Yancey twisted his fingers in his hair, snapped his head back on his neck and lifted a fist to smash down into his face.

  But he checked, knowing the blow would break Cato’s nose, smash it back into his face, maul his mouth and likely ram half a dozen teeth down his throat. It was one of Yancey’s most deadly blows in a fight and something stopped him delivering it into the middle of his friend’s face. Instead, he slammed Cato down full length on the floor by heaving him forward and down by his hair. Cato’s hand stopped his face slamming into the floorboards and he rolled half onto his side, hands coming up protectively in front of his face, to ward off the expected kick, which Yancey would normally use to follow through.

  But Yancey held the kick, stood, panting, over Cato, and wiped blood from his mouth. Then he leaned down, grabbed the man’s shirt and heaved him clear off the floor, throwing him bodily onto the bed. Cato bounced and Yancey was standing right beside him, his left hand spread in the center of the man’s chest, right fist raised threateningly, preventing him from getting up.

  “All right, now what the hell’s this about?” he demanded.

  Cato wiped a hand across bleeding nostrils and glared hatred up at Yancey. His split lips curled. “You just had to keep stickin’ your nose in, didn’t you? After all I told you!”

  “What’re you talking about?”

  “Aaah! You just had to tell him, didn’t you? Couldn’t keep it to yourself and let me get things worked out in my own way. Oh, no, not you, not the great Yancey Bannerman! You couldn’t leave well enough alone. You had to go lay it all out in front of Dukes and Marnie.”

  “What?” Yancey was genuinely shocked.

  “Now tell me you didn’t do that!” Cato struggled to sit up.

  “By hell, I didn’t!” Yancey let Cato sit up and swing his legs over the side of the bed.

  “Knew you’d say that, but you done it, all right. No other way he could’ve known!”

  Yancey looked at him levelly. “I didn’t say anything to Dukes or anyone else about your business, Johnny. Believe it or not, I don’t damn well care anymore.”

  Cato looked a little uncertain now but he stood up and brushed himself down. “You’re a liar, Yance,” he said quietly.

  Yancey tensed. “You’re the only one I’d let call me that and still walk away, Johnny. But you get just one go and you’ve had that.”

  Cato continued to glare. “Dukes knew all about the gamblin’ and the I.O.U.s and this Blayne hombre. Even tried to give me a fatherly talk about the weddin’, but I cut him short on that. Told him there ain’t gonna be any weddin’. Not between Marnie and me, leastways. And I quit about three seconds before he told me I was fired, that he couldn’t keep me on when I was open to blackmail the way I was with Blayne holding all my I.O.U.s and so on.”

  “You quit the Enforcers?” Yancey asked incredulously.

  “I’m quittin’ all of you, quittin’ Texas,” Cato said bitterly. “I’ve had a bellyful of everythin’. But I wanted to poke you in the face b
efore I went for spillin’ your guts to Dukes.”

  “I told you, I didn’t say anything.”

  “Yeah. So you said.” Cato stepped back and his face was ugly as he lifted a forefinger and poked Yancey in the chest with it. “Well, I don’t have to believe you and I don’t. If you want to do anythin’ about that, then you can follow me out of town. But, listen to this, Yancey Bannerman, if we meet again, it’ll have to be over smokin’ guns.”

  He held Yancey’s gaze for a spell and then strode to the door and Yancey said quietly, “It couldn’t be any other way. Not now.”

  Cato nodded. “Fine with me.”

  He went out immediately, not bothering to close the door behind him. Yancey walked across the room, very slowly, very thoughtfully, and closed the door gently.

  Any moment, he expected to wake up and find he had dreamt the whole thing.

  ~*~

  Governor Lester Dukes sat back in his chair at his desk and probed at his left shoulder with the fingers of his right hand. His angina was acting up today and it showed in the gray tinge of his skin and the deep-etched lines pulling down the corners of his mouth. His heart condition hadn’t been giving him a lot of trouble lately, for which he was grateful, but it had started acting-up this morning—actually he had felt the first twinges last night when he had first heard of the trouble that Cato was in. From then on it had grown worse and he hoped like hell he wasn’t in for a major attack that would lay him low, or worse.

  There was a knock on the door of his office and he swiftly dropped his hand away from his shoulder and forced himself to sit forward and lean his arms on his desk. He cleared his throat and called out, “Come in,”

  Yancey Bannerman entered swiftly, closing the door very quietly after him and striding across the office to drop into a chair opposite Dukes’ desk. He hooked a heel over one knee and thumbed back his hat, looking soberly at the governor.

  “He’s gone all right,” he announced quietly. “Not a trace of him in Austin and I finally got the liveryman down on Peace Place to admit he had had a horse ready for Johnny for nigh on a week. The bill will be sent to the Capitol here.”