Brand 12

by Neil Hunter

His voice was strained. The words an effort and the moment he finished speaking McCord drifted away again.

  Brand stood, moved away and didn’t glance back. If he had he might have hesitated, diverted from what he needed to do. He traversed the way he had come into the rocks until he was clear and slid silently into the timber, going back over the obliterated tracks made when he had led McCord into cover.

  The rain had yet to slacken off as Brand made his way back along the trail they had come in on. With the daylight fading he was forced to move slowly, yet his directional sense guided him. Brand had never been one to get lost easily. He found his way with little difficulty.

  He had been traveling for about an hour when he picked up movement ahead. Someone coming his way on horseback. Brand dropped to a crouch, easing into a clump of brush, feeling the water clinging to the vegetation dislodging and patterning on his clothes. He scanned the way ahead, moving his head from side to side until he made out the shadowed rider.

  Just the one.

  Brand waited to see if there were others with him. The rider was on his own. Scouting ahead so he might locate Brand and McCord, then ride back to join his partners. A careful move. Rather than have the whole bunch coming en masse more likely than not making more noise than this lone scout.

  Brand let the rider move forward and as he passed through a thin strip of light he recognized him as the one he had struck in the throat. He carried a rifle wedged against his right hip, muzzle skywards. He looked left and right. Quietly moving forward with determination.

  He was searching.

  All right you sonofabitch you’ve almost made it.

  This is a far as you go.

  Brand let the rider draw level with his hiding place. Laid his rifle close by and eased out the knife from the n’deh b’keh. He held himself for a few more seconds before he rose, took three long strides and launched himself up across the rider’s horse, swinging astride behind the man.

  Ule, startled by the unexpected attack, tried to turn about. He was too slow as Brand’s left arm circled his throat and pulled him in close. He reached over Ule’s shoulder and thrust the blade of the knife in deep seeking and finding the rider’s heart. Ule convulsed, legs stiffening as he made his final struggle. It only lasted seconds before his pierced heart gave out. A small surge of blood erupted from the wound around the knife. Ule’s rifle slipped from slack fingers. He became a dead weight in Brand’s arms. He let the man slump forward as he cleared the horse’s rump. He slipped the knife back in its sheath as Ule fell across the saddlehorn. Brand freed his feet from the stirrups and let the body drop to the ground. He dragged the body into a clump of tangled brush. Then he turned Ule’s horse around and gave a whack across the rear, sending it away. It might eventually cross paths with the rest of the bunch. Cause them some confusion. It wasn’t going to interfere with Brand’s plan but anything that might upset them could only be a bonus.

  Treece had move a distance away from the fire, coffee cup in his hand as he stared into the darkness, caught up in thought. Only Beth Arling noticed his preoccupation and joined him.

  ‘You worried about Ule?’ she said.

  Treece gave a slight nod. ‘Brand is no tenderfoot. He knows his way around and he can handle himself. Look what happened to Karp.’

  ‘Ule is a man grown,’ Arling said. ‘He understands the risks. It’s what he signed on for. Col, let the man do his job. As long as you’re by my side I’m safe.’

  ‘Nice to have faith,’ Treece said.

  She touched his arm, feeling the taut muscle under his clothing. For a moment they could have been a hundred miles away from the rain and chill. Far removed from the discomfort.

  ‘We will see this through. Get those diamonds and reach California. And then we’ll have everything we could ever want.’

  Treece looked down at her, a hint of a smile on his lips.

  ‘Damned if I can think of anything more than I have right now.’

  He stiffened, moving forward as he peered into the darkness. Arling heard him as he caught sight of something.

  ‘Hawkins. Horse coming in. No rider.’

  Ty Hawkins joined them. Picked out the dark bulk of the riderless horse. He cursed softly as he recognized it.

  ‘Ule’s mount.’

  The others crowded around.

  ‘Damned if this ain’t gettin’ to be a habit,’ Cruze said. ‘First Ollie. Now Cleve. How many more we got to lose?’

  ‘Hell’s fire, we’re supposed to be hunting him,’ Stan Kyle said. ‘He’s runnin’ rings around us. We send someone out to scout him and he just puts ’em down’ He slapped his brother on the shoulder. ‘Get on your horse, brother, an’ let’s smoke this varmint out. We may not be as smart but damned if I’m about to let some goddamn lawdog play games with me.’

  ‘Wait,’ Hawkins said. ‘That’s just what he wants. To separate us so’s he can pick us off.’

  ‘Which he has been doing already,’ Arling said.

  ‘You think so?’ Lem said as he swung into the saddle, brandishing his Henry rifle. ‘Well I wouldn’t want to disappoint the man.’

  Treece stepped forward. ‘This is foolishness. He’ll be waiting for you. I’d figure he’ll be on foot now. Able to move around faster.’

  ‘Don’t forget he has McCord with him. The man is hurt. He’ll slow Brand down,’ Arling said.

  ‘No,’ Hawkins said. ‘He’ll find a place to hide McCord while he comes looking for us.’

  ‘Sounds reasonable,’ Treece said. ‘Brand is a professional. He wouldn’t want McCord hanging on his arm while he hunts for us. The man will be determined to put us down so he can get McCord medical help.’

  ‘Out here?’ Cruze said. ‘No doctors any closer than…than Cabot’s Creek.’

  ‘He’ll make for town once he figures we can’t threaten him anymore.’

  ‘That’s if he can stop us,’ Stan said. ‘You folk should cut off towards the town. If he gets by us that’s where he’ll make for. If we cut Brand down we’ll bring McCord so you have that reunion you want so much. If he gets by us it’ll be down to you to catch him.’

  With his brother riding alongside Stan turned his horse away and moved off into the darkness.

  ‘We going to do it?’ Cruze said. ‘Stand around here getting soaked, or cut across country for Cabot’s Creek? If Brand does for those hill boys we can be waitin’ for him in town. Let him tote that McCord feller in so’s we can take him back.’

  ‘Either way we should get to see Mr. High and Mighty McCord pretty soon,’ Hawkins said.

  ‘We need to be in town if he gets through,’ Arling said. ‘If we get there before he does we can be waiting for him.’

  Treece nodded and guided Arling to their waiting horses. With Hawkins and Cruze following close they cut across country in the direction of Cabot’s Creek.

  ‘We’re going to make this work, Col,’ Arling said. ‘I can feel it. Just feel those diamonds running through my fingers.’

  ‘You could be right, Beth. If this all falls into place, you could be right and we could end up becoming extremely wealthy.’

  The Kyle brothers rode in easy silence. There was no need for talk. Each knew what the other was thinking and they acted in accord. They had developed this affinity in their early years and as they grew it became their natural way of acting. It had served them well. Now they used this natural talent to allow them an edge over anyone they went up against.

  The near darkness held no fears for them. Pushing their way through the tangled skein of shadows each man carried his rifle across his thighs, ready to fire if the need arose. The Kyles had hunted since their early years. For food when needed. Then as their skills grew they applied it to tracking men. Always skirting the edge of the law, hiring themselves out as gunmen willing to take on any task that earned them money. Shooting game for the family table had honed their ability to hit most any kind of target. Hunting men was easier. Compared to animal targets men were easier. They were lar
ger and moved comparatively slower.

  Nothing held them back. They had no qualms when it came to killing men. They accepted that a human target had the ability to fight back and that legitimized the chase. Over the years Lem and Stan had honed their killing art to a fine degree. They were a well-practiced team that worked in harmony.

  With the rain easing off to a thin drizzle a pale moon cast pale light over the landscape, penetrating the overhang tree branches. Moisture gleamed on the surrounding foliage, silvery and misty.

  Lem eased back on his reins, peering into the fragmented light ahead. He swung his shaggy head and brought his rifle around, letting go his reins as he pulled his horse to a stop. Close by Stan, aware of his brother’s alertness, eased his own mount to a halt. He followed Lem’s head movement, peering into the semi-darkness.

  They might have been in accord, sensing a close presence, yet neither of them were fully certain until the movement Lem had anticipated became a fully-realized threat they accepted a fraction of a second too late...

  Brand picked out the advancing pair of riders as they passed from darkness into a patch of moonlight. The two men, carrying rifles, rode with a steady gait. Heads moved back and forth as they checked around them.

  He had been crouching hard against a thicket, soaked through to the skin when he saw them, his own Winchester held close as he observed the pair. The one on his right leaned forward suddenly, gaze fixing on Brand’s position.

  The man had spotted him.

  The rifle he held curved up from his lap, the muzzle arcing in on Brand.

  He pushed up from his crouch, shouldering the rifle and brought it on target. There was no hesitation in his actions. The second he had the man centered Brand pulled the trigger. The crash of the shot sounded loud in the close confines of the trees. Flame winked briefly as the .44-40 round slammed out. Brand levered and fired twice more, the rifle barking loud. Flame lanced from the muzzle. The target turned in his saddle, falling back as his feet cleared the stirrups and he went off his horse, hitting the rain-sodden ground with a thump.

  The moment he fired Brand changed position. As he half-rolled he heard a return shot, sensed the slug pound the ground inches away. He swung up the Winchester and levered and fired at the second man. Knew he had missed as the rider threw himself from his saddle and dropped behind the bulk of his shying horse...

  ...the slug burned the air over Stan’s head. He dove from the saddle, landing on his feet and took cover behind his horse. He knew his brother had been hit and gone down. As much as he wanted to go to him Stan knew he could not expose himself as long as Brand was still out there and active.

  He pushed back the fear threatening his composure.

  Lem was on the ground. Maybe badly wounded. Even dead. Right now Stan had to push that to the back of his mind.

  He had to deal with the man Brand first.

  In a semi-crouch Stan peered around the bulk of his skittish horse, centered his gaze on the place the man had been when he had shot Lon.

  He knew the man would have already moved, so he swiveled his gaze back and forth. Searching for an elusive movement that might show him where Brand had gone.

  He saw dark shadow. Splashes of the silvery illumination from moonlight. He pushed forward, risking exposing himself as he stepped away from his horse.

  Damnit where was the son?

  He couldn’t have gone far in the seconds that had passed.

  He had to be close.

  Show yourself so I can shoot you...

  And then the dark bulk of the man rose from the ground, emerging from deeper shadow at the base of the solid tree he had blended with. Moonlight flickered along the barrel of the rifle he carried. He appeared swiftly. Silently.

  For all of his hardness, the lean, inbuilt toughness that had carried him through life, Stan Kyle experienced real fear in those seconds before he saw the lance of flame from the muzzle of the rifle aimed at him...

  ...the emerging figure of Stan Kyle, rifle raised, cleared the bulk of his nervous horse. Brand saw him searching the shadows. He missed where Brand crouched at the base of a thick-trunked tree. It gave him a clear opportunity and he took it. Pushed slowly to his full height, raising his rifle and caught Stan out in the open.

  The Winchester slammed out a hard sound as Brand fired. Saw Stan fall back. He triggered a volley of shots, the slugs hammering into Stan Kyle’s chest. He crashed hard to the ground, body arching in a final protest before he dropped flat and lay still.

  Brand stayed where he was for a time. Listening for any other presence. He knew there were more and despite his patience he heard nothing except the falling rain against the foliage.

  Saw nothing but the shadows around him.

  He only moved when he heard the soft groaning from the spot where Lem Kyle had fallen.

  The man lay on his back, face rain-speckled, his chest a mass of blood from the bullet wound. More blood ran from his mouth, becoming diluted by the rain falling on him.

  ‘You there, Stan?’ he said.

  ‘He’s dead.’

  Lem rolled his head back and forth. ‘We figured we’d put you down ’fore you could get that feller McCord back to Cabot’s Creek.’

  ‘Not if I could do anything about it,’ Brand said.

  ‘Well, hell, you did that all right. That Arling woman will figure you stopped us when you ride in to...’

  It struck Brand the man had simply let the words slip out. Not realizing he had told him more than he might have intended. It told him where the others would be.

  At Cabot’s Creek.

  Waiting for Brand to ride in with McCord.

  ‘...lord I ain’t about to make it,’ Lem said.

  It was a statement of fact rather than a casual observation.

  Brand made sure there were no weapons close by Lem Kyle before he stood and crossed to the standing horses. Brand stripped off saddles and trappings. Dumped them on the ground and let the horses wander free. By the time he returned to stand over Lem the man had passed away quietly.

  The others were heading for Cabot’s Creek. Planning to wait it out until he showed up with McCord. Brand saw he could be riding into a trap. Yet he had little choice. Cabot’s Creek was the only place he could go if he wanted McCord to have medical help.

  He didn’t have to think about it. McCord needed that help. Cabot’s Creek could offer it, so that was where they had to go. If Arling and her hired guns were waiting he would deal with the problem when he faced it.

  Turning around Brand made the return trip to where he had left Frank McCord. The rain had increased again, chilling him and he was soaked through by the time he tramped back through the rocks to where he had left McCord. Brand ignored his own discomfort. He had a job to do. Getting McCord to Cabot’s Creek and a doctor.

  And to a certain showdown with Beth Arling, Treece, Ty Hawkins and Jake Cruze. One way or another the town wasn’t about to welcome him with open arms.

  They had ridden into Cabot’s Creek mid-afternoon. Separating as they entered the main street, Hawkins and Cruze tying their horses outside a saloon and going inside. Arling and Treece looked out for and went inside the hotel about midway along. They took their saddlebags and entered the lobby, booking in and climbing the stairs to the street-facing rooms. They stayed low key, not wanting to cause any fuss until the time came when things would become stressful.

  Arling went back down and asked if she could take a bath. The desk clerk said he would arrange it for her and call her when it was ready. Treece cleaned himself up in his room, using the pitcher of water provided and when he was done he let Arling know he was taking a walk to the nearest store to get them fresh clothing. On the street he took stock of Cabot’s Creek. A quiet enough town. He didn’t see it as presenting any problems as far as they were concerned. He made it his business to locate the town doctor’s residence about halfway along the street. It was where Brand would take McCord. He also sought out the town marshal’s office. Before he went to
the store Treece located the livery and led their horses there, arranging for them to be looked after, fed and watered.

  Only then did he make his way to the dry goods store where he selected clean clothing for Arling and himself. He knew Arling’s size and bought for them both. With his purchases wrapped he stepped outside and made his way back to the hotel.

  Arling was still bathing so he left her parcel on her bed, returned to his own room and stripped off his wrinkled, still slightly damp clothes, dried himself on the room’s towel and put on the new outfit.

  When Arling was dressed and ready they went downstairs and were directed to the hotel’s dining room where they ordered and ate. Over coffee the subject of McCord and Brand came up.

  ‘We’re going to have to make choices soon, Col,’ Arling said. ‘If the Kyles handle Brand the way we expect we’ll have McCord back where we want him.’

  ‘And if Brand comes out on top he’s still going to ride in with McCord in tow. Either way McCord is going to end up here in Cabot’s Creek,’ Treece said. ‘Can’t say I won’t be disappointed to face him with a gun in my hand.’

  Ty Hawkins chose a table close to one of the saloon’s windows. From there he could watch the street. They simply sat and waited, nursing their glasses.

  ‘You still expecting Brand to come riding in with McCord at his side?’ Cruze said.

  Hawkins took a swallow of beer, nodding briefly.

  ‘Damn right I do.’

  ‘You forgetting the Kyle boys?’

  ‘No. But I’m more likely to bet on Brand showing up.’

  ‘He’s one man.’

  ‘Who just happens to be McCord’s best. Don’t you forget that ’cause I won’t.’

  Cruze reached for his own glass. Drained it and stood to cross to the bar where he ordered a couple more beers, returning to the table with them. He stood beside Hawkins, staring out the window.

  ‘Arling is one single-minded female,’ he said. ‘Just sets her mind on finding those diamonds and don’t allow anything to put her off.’