Bannerman the Enforcer 45

by Kirk Hamilton

  “The governor’s right, I’m afraid,” Boles said. “Yancey just might cut loose.”

  “Oh my God, what’s happening to him??’ Kate gasped.

  “I may be able to put matters right once I give him a thorough examination, Kate,” Boles said, trying to sound reassuring.

  Cato said, “I still think I ought to go along.”

  “I’m making it an order,” Dukes said. “Stay here. I’ll send out a couple of Rangers. Tough ones.”

  Cato sniffed, not liking it. He turned to Boles. “You think it’s the best way, Doc?”

  “I think what the governor says makes sense, John.”

  Kate placed a hand on Cato’s arm. “As long as we get Yancey here for treatment, John, that’s the main thing.”

  He nodded, but he still wasn’t convinced.

  The two Rangers were burly types with low-slung guns. One was middle-aged, with Longhorn moustaches, a seamed brown face and pale blue eyes that seemed to be permanently squinting into the sun. He toted a rifle as well as the battered six-gun holstered low on his right thigh. His name was Wallis.

  The other man was younger, bigger and beefier, with a bull neck and a squarish head. His face was badly scarred from a knife fight. He wore two Colts in crossed cartridge belts. He was called Bull Hawkins.

  The noise in the saloon began to fade as the Rangers came through the batwings and raked their cold eyes around the room. Wallis gestured to a curtained doorway with his rifle and they moved in that direction. The drinkers stared curiously, clearing a path. The saloon owner, looking anxious and worried, started forward but stopped at a sign from Wallis. He licked his lips, on tenterhooks as Wallis used his rifle barrel to push the heavy drapes aside and peer into the smoke-filled gambling room.

  Men were playing cards at a few tables and there was a crap game going. Silence fell in the room and heads turned as the Rangers parted to move along opposite walls, making for the table near the center of the room where Yancey was involved in a game of Cross Widow, a variation on straight poker which made for bigger stakes.

  The Enforcer tensed when he spotted Wallis. He flicked his gaze to take in Bull Hawkins and got to his feet so abruptly that he knocked his chair over.

  Men went for cover swiftly or pressed back against the walls. Yancey, knowing the Rangers had come for him, took advantage of the confusion and moved among the men striving to get out of harm’s way.

  Wallis saw what he was doing and cursed as he rammed his way through the crowd. Bull Hawkins, aware now of Yancey’s strategy, used fists, elbows and boots to smash a path to the side door. He got there, a gun in each hand, looking around but not seeing Yancey.

  “He’s yours, Wal!” he shouted.

  Wallis, jostled heavily, lifted his rifle over his head, straining to see where Yancey had gone. He swore wildly, using the rifle butt to clear a path, and then he saw Yancey dodging through the curtains and into the main room of the saloon.

  “The bar!” Wallis yelled to Hawkins as he plunged forward, hooking and slamming with the rifle. He staggered into the curtains and ripped them from their rods in his haste to get to Yancey. But the main room was also full of panicky men and he saw why when he spotted Yancey, gun in his hand, making his way towards the batwings.

  “Yancey! Don’t be a fool!” Wallis called out.

  Yancey ignored the advice. Then, just as big Bull Hawkins crashed his way into the room, Wallis fired his rifle at the ceiling. Men hit the sawdust-covered floor or fled through the exits. A window shattered. Men cursed.

  Yancey didn’t make it to the batwings. A man slammed into him and he crashed against the wall.

  “Come easy, Yancey,” Wallis said.

  “Don’t bother to talk,” growled the impatient Hawkins. “Let’s get the goddamn job done!”

  “I’ll handle it!” snapped Wallis, bringing his rifle around to cover Yancey. “Come on, Yance. No need for trouble.”

  Yancey looked at the two Rangers through narrowed eyes. Then glanced at the batwings, one of which hung by a single hinge.

  “Don’t try it,” Hawkins warned.

  Yancey’s Colt roared in answer and Ranger Wallis staggered backwards as the bullet struck home. He knocked over tables and chairs before he fell to the floor on his face.

  Hawkins was stunned. He hadn’t expected anything like this. Yancey fired at him. The bullet missed by inches and shattered the bar mirror. The Enforcer lunged at the batwings but suddenly a man stood before him. He started to lift his smoking Colt but a gun knocked it from his grasp and then slammed across his midriff. He gulped and doubled over. The gun barrel crashed against the side of his head and he fell moaning to the boardwalk.

  Cato looked down at Yancey sadly, then stepped over his body and peered over the broken batwings.

  Bull Hawkins was on his knees beside Wallis.

  “How bad is he?” Cato asked tightly.

  “He’s dead,” Hawkins whispered.

  Four – Jail

  Governor Dukes’ right hand kneaded his left shoulder as he stared across his desk at the grim-faced Cato. Kate stood beside her father’s chair, her face a pale mask.

  “It can’t be!” Kate gasped out. “Yancey just couldn’t have killed Wallis! He wouldn’t gun down a Ranger!”

  Cato shook his head slowly. “Sorry, Kate. I got there a mite too late.” He looked accusingly at Dukes. “If you’d let me go in the first place, it might not have happened, Governor.”

  Dukes looked haunted as he met and held Cato’s gaze. “No,” he said. “Yancey might have killed you.”

  “I don’t believe that.”

  “Did you believe Yancey would gun down a Ranger?”

  Cato’s mouth tightened. “All right. It happened and Yancey’s locked up in a cell under the courthouse. Now what the hell do we do?”

  “He has to have an operation, of course,” Kate said.

  Her father stopped kneading his shoulder and turned to look at the girl. “Perhaps, Kate ...”

  “Perhaps?” She was shocked.

  “Yes. Perhaps. Look, Kate, you have to realize that Yancey killed a lawman in cold blood.”

  “But he’s sick! Don’t you have any feelings?”

  “Of course I do. Do you think I’m not saddened by this? But good God, girl, Wallis is dead and Yancey killed him. Those are the facts and that’s what will be judged in a court of law.”

  Kate reared back as if struck by a blow. “Court of ...? You’re going to put Yancey on trial? For ... murder?”

  Dukes squirmed in his chair. “I have to! He’s sick, I grant you, but surely you must see that as my top Enforcer he’s the one man I simply can’t show favoritism to. If I display any leniency at all, my political opponents will crucify me. They’ll say that Yancey literally got away with murder. No. He has to go on trial and it’ll be up to a judge and jury to determine if allowances can be made for Yancey’s mental condition. Meantime Doctor Boles will, of course, give him whatever treatment is necessary, but I’m afraid that, no matter how things turn out, Yancey’s career as an Enforcer is over.”

  Kate was trembling with emotion. She blinked back tears as she stared at her father. He reached out and took one of her hands. It was icy cold.

  “Kate, I’m terribly sorry,” he said quietly. “I—I’m badly shaken up myself. But you have to try to see my point of view ...”

  Kate pulled her hand free and started to speak but then changed her mind. She whirled around and walked from the governor’s office.

  “Kate!” Dukes called, but she closed the door behind her. The governor turned helplessly to Cato. “And what’re your thoughts on the matter, John?”

  Cato drilled his gaze hard into Dukes’ eyes. “You sure it’s bone pressure that’s causin’ Yancey to act like he did?”

  The governor frowned. “How can I be sure about a thing like that? I’m simply taking Doctor Boles’ word for it.”

  Cato pushed himself off the wall. “I think I’ll go see Yance.”

/>   “You can’t,” Dukes said. “I’ve had him put in the maximum-security section.”

  “But I thought the security cells were full with the gang that slaughtered Senator Giles and his family.”

  “There was a cell left that had only one man in it—Slocum, the fellow who broke into the whorehouse on River Street and strangled that young Chinese girl. I’ve put Yancey in with him. Slocum’s trial was set back because of the capture of those killers of Senator Giles. Doctor Boles will see Yancey and examine him, but I’ve left instructions that he’s to have no other visitors.”

  “Hell, Governor! I want to have a talk with him!”

  Dukes shook his head. “No, John. It’s best that we don’t do anything that might upset him. He’s apparently calmed down. In fact, I doubt that he has any memory of what he did.”

  “And you want to put him on trial for killin’ Wallis? When he’s like that?”

  “You know I must. As I told Kate—”

  “Sure. No favoritism. Hell, Governor, the man’s sick! You can’t just throw him to the wolves—not if Boles can make him well again.”

  “Sorry, John. No matter how the trial comes out. I’ll have to let Yancey go. You’ll move up to top Enforcer, of course—”

  “The hell with that. I’m not interested in a promotion. Yance is my pard and I aim to stand by him.”

  Dukes nodded slowly. “I understand, John. But it doesn’t change anything, I’m afraid. Yancey is finished with the Enforcers. For good.”

  Cato glared at the governor for a long moment, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. Finally he spoke. “How the hell can you sleep nights?”

  Dukes returned his stare. “I didn’t sleep very well, if you must know. I never thought the governor’s office would be easy, John, but I have to confess that this is the most unpleasant chore I’ve ever had to do.”

  Cato’s mouth was like a razor slash. Muscles were knotted along both angles of his jaw. Suddenly he spun on his heel and walked out.

  Dukes slumped in his chair with a heavy sigh.

  Slocum was barely twenty. Almost as tall as the big Enforcer, he was a lean, rangy type. His narrow face was wolf-like and his hair was almost silver-white. His eyebrows were so thin they didn’t seem to be there at all. He had a mean mouth, pale amber eyes and a few straggly wisps of fluffy hair that hung limply from his upper lip.

  He sat on his bunk now, elbows on his knees, hands clasped, looking across the cell at Yancey who tossed and turned on his bunk, moaning and gasping. Suddenly Slocum stood up, walked across the stone floor on bare feet and poked Yancey roughly in the ribs. He poked him again and again until Yancey sat up with a start, blinking and looking around in bewilderment.

  “Shut down on all that goddamn noise, will you?” Slocum growled.

  Yancey, frowning, watched the man drop onto his bunk and swing his legs up. Slocum clasped his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. Yancey looked around him.

  “Where the hell am I?”

  Slocum gave him a scowl and then continued to look at the ceiling. Yancey swung his legs off the bunk and sat up, holding his head in his hands.

  “Hell almighty! Some hangover!”

  Slocum said nothing.

  Yancey cocked his head. “Wait a minute! I don’t recollect gettin’ drunk.” He looked at the steel door. It had an iron grille near the top and a food trap at the bottom. There was a barred window eight feet up the stone wall. “This is one of the maximum-security cells!” Yancey exclaimed.

  “You ought to know, Bannerman,” Slocum growled. “You put enough fellers in here.” He laughed briefly. “How do you like it yourself?”

  Yancey looked completely bewildered. “What the hell am I doin’ here?”

  “Don’t waste your act on me,” Slocum said.

  Yancey crossed to the other man’s bunk and sat on the edge of it. Slocum gave him a cold look.

  “Get the hell off my bunk!”

  “In a minute. Who are you and how come I’m locked in here with you?”

  Slocum sat up and palmed Yancey roughly on the shoulder. “I said get off my bunk, damn you!”

  Yancey slammed the hand aside, grabbed Slocum’s shirtfront and yanked the man upright, then he threw him violently against the stone wall. He pulled him back and smashed him against the wall repeatedly. Finally Yancey put a forearm across Slocum’s throat and leaned on it, wild-eyed.

  “I asked you a question, you son of a bitch!”

  Slocum was terror-stricken by the crazy look in Yancey’s eyes. He gasped, trying to talk, flailing his arms. Yancey, seeing the man’s face going purple, flung him down on the bunk and stood over him with clenched fists.

  “Well?”

  Slocum held up a hand, cowering. “I don’t know too much. They say you killed a Ranger.”

  Yancey sucked in his breath. He sat back slowly on the edge of the bunk and nodded slowly. “By hell, you’re right. I recollect now. Stew Wallis. I gunned him down in the saloon ...” He clapped both hands to his temples.

  Slocum watched apprehensively, easing back as far as he could along the bunk.

  Yancey continued to hold his hands against his head as Slocum eased off the bunk and grabbed his tin mug. He went to the door and raked the mug over the grille. He did it several times but Yancey paid no attention. Slocum didn’t take his eyes off Yancey. Suddenly a guard’s face appeared in the opening.

  “What do you want?” the man snarled, rapping at Slocum’s fingers with a gun barrel.

  Slocum dropped his tin mug and sucked on his bruised fingers as he stared anxiously at the guard. “Listen, get me out of here, will you? I’m locked in with a crazy man!”

  The guard snorted and started to turn away.

  “He’ll kill me!” Slocum shouted.

  “Then he’ll save the taxpayers some money,” the guard said.

  Slocum picked up his cup and stood by the end of Yancey’s bunk. The Enforcer looked up slowly, his face contorted.

  “These blamed headaches!”

  Slocum stared back, making no attempt to hide his fear.

  After a while Yancey stretched out and swung up his feet. The big man covered his face with his hands and went to sleep.

  But Slocum didn’t sleep, not all night long.

  Doctor Boles visited the next morning. Two guards held cocked guns at the ready while the medic examined Yancey.

  Yancey yelled and swore and jumped when Boles pressed certain parts of his scalp. “Thought you said you could stop the goddamn headaches, Doc. You’re makin’ ’em worse!”

  “Sorry, Yancey, but I have to find out where the pressure point is.” He straightened with a sigh and turned to a guard. “It’s no good. I can’t examine this man properly under these conditions. I need to have him in my office.”

  “No soap, Doc,” the senior man said. “He don’t move from here.”

  “Damn it, I can’t be expected to find out what’s wrong with him under these conditions. Do you realize his life may be in danger?”

  The guard gave Yancey a bitter look. “Tell you the truth, Doc, I don’t give a damn. He killed a Ranger, Stew Wallis, a friend of mine. Enforcer or not, sick or no, it cuts no ice with me. He shot down Stew Wallis and that’s all that counts. And that’s all it ought to count with a judge and jury, if you ask me.”

  “I’m not asking you,” Boles said irritably. “I’m telling you that I must have this man in my office.”

  “You’ll need a signed order from the Governor,” the guard said. “That’s the only way you’re gonna get him past me.”

  Boles glared at the man. “Very well, I’ll do just that. A man with the reputation of Yancey Bannerman can’t be treated like a common criminal because of one bad mistake that may well have been none of his doing. His conscious doing, I mean.”

  “Save your medical talk, Doc. If you want Bannerman out, you get that order from Governor Dukes. Meantime, I’ll watch him like a hawk. I almost hope he tries somethin’.
Can’t make up my mind which I’d like to see most, my bullet in him or a rope around his neck.”

  Yancey curled his upper lip. “Put down that gun and I’ll give you a chance at me with your bare hands!” He got to his feet.

  The second guard stepped forward and rammed his rifle muzzle hard into Yancey’s chest, knocking him back onto the bunk. He stood over the Enforcer, eyes like flint, and hooked the rifle’s foresight under Yancey’s chin.

  “Wallis was my pard, too. Had a wife and four kids.” He jerked the rifle barrel away and Yancey winced, his chin bleeding from a deep gash made by the sight.

  Doctor Boles pushed the guard back angrily. “Who the hell do you think you are? This man’s sick! I’ll see that the governor hears about this!”

  The guard backed away. Boles examined the gash and thought it should be stitched, but Yancey wouldn’t have it. Finally, Boles stepped back and closed his bag. He flicked his gaze briefly at the silent Slocum and turned to the guards.

  “The governor has some official duties to perform this morning, but I’ll see him tonight after dinner and then I’ll get that order for Bannerman to be taken to my office for a proper examination. Next time I see him I expect to find him just as he is now, with no more marks on him. Do you understand?” He raked the guards with a hard look. “If he becomes hard to control because of his recurring headaches, I want to be notified immediately. That’s an order and I’ll see that it’s backed in writing by the governor if needs be.”

  “You do that, Doc,” said the senior man, backing out slowly, his gun covering Yancey and Slocum.

  The other guard and Boles left the cell and the door clanged shut. Yancey sat back on his bunk, leaning against the wall, rubbing at his forehead.

  Slocum eyed him warily. “If that sawbones has his way, you’ll get off,” he said.

  Yancey didn’t even glance in Slocum’s direction. He just sat there, rubbing easily at his forehead with the tips of his fingers.

  Slocum went on. “I reckon you won’t get the rope, no matter what. With that medic on your side, the worst you’ll get is a few years on the rockpile. I should be so lucky! And all I did was strangle a goddamn whore who just wouldn’t keep her mouth shut.”