“Here, with his legs caught under a seat. He’s unconscious.” Cato could barely make out the girl because of the wreckage and the earth of the landslide blocking the windows. A tree branch dangled inside and he shoved it out of the way irritably. He could see a pale blur and thought it was a man’s gray hair. The girl didn’t seem to be hurt and he moved so that by pressing back hard against the upturned seats, there was room enough for her to squeeze by.
“Go on out ... I’ll manage here. Just crawl easy and don’t move anything on the way out.”
“But you need me to …”
“I won’t need you to do anything!” he snapped. “Now get!”
The girl didn’t waste any more time. She squeezed past him and carefully made her way back up through the wreckage, groping warily. The car lurched a little, settled back with a thud that set glass tinkling and some wreckage falling. He heard the girl gasp but he did not cry out but kept on going. Thank God she hadn’t panicked, he thought as he got his shoulder under the seat that had this man’s legs trapped. Judas, he was a big hombre! Cato strained and pushed with shoulder and leg and arm muscles knotting up and the upended seat moved. He took the weight across his shoulders, kneeling, and pushing the trapped man’s legs out from under. Then he eased the wreckage down and fell forward as the car tilted at a steep angle. This time it did not settle back.
Breathing through his teeth, Cato grabbed the unconscious man’s shoulders and began to ease his way back. The floor was at a much steeper angle than before and he was panting before he had gone more than a few feet. He twisted his fingers in the man’s shirt, lay back and heaved, his boots skidding. He fell. The car jerked and there was a rumbling of shifting wreckage. Voices called warnings from outside.
Gritting his teeth, he eased his way back, wishing he had more light. He was thrown onto his side as the car settled over more to the right. Cato knew it wouldn’t be long now before it moved a few more feet—maybe only inches—and then slid over the edge and bounced end for end down the mountainside.
Blood roaring in his ears, heart pounding, muscles straining, Cato worked his way back and at last there was more light coming in and he knew he was approaching the shattered doorway. Voices urged him to hurry, that the car was going over; earth was crumbling under its weight; a rail track had buckled and was tearing loose from the ties. Then rough hands reached in, grabbed his belt and he was yanked unceremoniously out of the car. Someone reached past him and laid hold of the unconscious man and heaved him out, too. They all fell in a heap on the ground and Cato spun about at a thunderous, screeching sound and was in time to see the railroad car tilt up against the sky and then, rolling, slide off the remains of the track and start a wild toboggan like plunge down the steep slope.
It plowed into the earth and cannoned into a tree. The branches shuddered, the trunk cracked and the roots heaved up out of the ground and then the car bounced up, end over end and continued like that down the slope, shattering to matchwood, scattering wreckage and baggage across the mountain face.
Cato watched until the splintered remains came to rest, then, white-faced, looked around at the others and shook his head slowly from side to side as he blew out his cheeks. He saw that the girl he had told to get out was kneeling beside the man he had dragged clear and he leaned down to ask:
“How is he?” Then he started and swiftly knelt beside her. “Hell almighty! Yancey!”
He stared incredulously at his unconscious friend, with the padded bandage on top of his head, his bruised face streaked with blood. He turned swiftly to the girl.
“Is he all right?”
“I don’t know,” she answered quietly, holding his wrist as she felt for his pulse. “I honestly don’t know ... I think we should try to get him to a doctor as soon as possible.”
Four – Guns of Guilt
Kate Dukes came to her feet instantly when the door was opened by Dr. Boles, the governor’s personal physician. The old doctor closed the door slowly and firmly, frowning. He looked up as Kate came forward, her face anxious.
Boles smiled faintly and slipped his arm around Kate’s shoulders. He had delivered her at birth and had been with the Dukes family ever since.
“Well, Kate, I won’t try to lie to you. Yancey’s mighty ill. He’s still unconscious, which isn’t a good thing in itself. But it’s not so much the injuries he received in that train wreck as the bullet wound.”
Kate and the medic walked slowly down the passage. “But I thought it was only a crease across his scalp, doctor?”
“So did I, at first. But closer examination shows that it’s deeper than I thought. That bullet didn’t so much crease him as bounce off his skull. I’d say it struck at a downward angle and likely it was only Yancey’s natural thick-headedness that saved him.”
But Kate didn’t smile at the little joke. “Well, what’s to be done? Do we just wait for him to regain consciousness?”
Boles stopped and turned to face the girl. “I don’t think we can afford to do that, Kate. Wait, I mean. At least, not for long.”
Very tense now, Kate asked, “What does that mean, doctor?”
“In my opinion, Yancey needs an operation. I’ve probed that wound very gently and I’m tolerably sure there’s a crack in his skull and the depressed bone is pressing onto his brain. Just what part I don’t know. But I do know that pressure’s got to be relieved.”
Kate looked at Boles levelly. “Or he’ll die?”
Boles sighed. “Well, I don’t know that I can predict that, Kate. Thing is, I can’t predict what effect that bone pressure might have. He could live—and be a vegetable, feeble-minded. Or he could just go through the rest of his life with a bad headache now and again. It’s uncertain, Kate. But it can’t be left.”
“When are you going to operate?” she asked quietly.
“I’m afraid I’m not,” Boles told her. “It’s beyond my capabilities, Kate. It needs a specialist surgeon.”
“Can we get one?”
Boles shook his head. “Not in Austin. Three or four in Philadelphia and New York, maybe one in San Francisco. The rest are in Europe, as far as I know.”
“I see,” Kate said slowly, controlling her emotions. “Can I see him now?”
“Sure, but there’s little point, girl. He’s unconscious, just lying there.”
Kate sighed. “Of course ... All right, doctor, thank you.”
“I’m sorry I can’t do more, Kate. Perhaps the governor can arrange for one of the surgeons to come out here. I’ll do all I can.”
Kate nodded and smiled faintly, then turned down a short passage in the big house on Capitol Hill and went to her father’s office. Dukes was talking with a Senator Rainey who had recently returned from a field trip to investigate possible routes for new railroads throughout the state. He was tall and tanned from his travels and unconsciously lifted a hand to smooth down the thick hair about his ears as Kate entered. Rainey straightened and smiled, folding some papers he had been showing Governor Dukes at his desk.
“I was just going, Kate,” Rainey told her. “And, in passing, might I say how beautiful you look?”
Kate smiled, but the strain was showing. Rainey noticed it and his own smile faded slowly and he cleared his throat.
“Well, I’ll attend to the matter, Governor, and let you have the estimates as soon as possible.”
“Thank you, Jace. I’d appreciate it.” The governor, hawk faced, distinguished looking, watched the senator bow his way past Kate and go out. Then he looked directly at his daughter. “Bad news about Yancey?”
Kate told him what Boles had said. Dukes pursed his lips, a tinge of gray showing under his skin. He was a man with a heart condition and he felt shock at hearing just how serious his top Enforcer’s situation was. The fingers of his right hand kneaded at his left shoulder and upper arm absently.
“Well, we can’t leave Yancey like that ... Find out from Boles what doctors he thinks can handle such an operation and then send for them
in my name. Never mind the cost. I want Yancey well again.” He looked at Kate and reached up to squeeze her hand as he smiled faintly. “For several reasons.”
The girl smiled, leaned down and kissed him lightly. “Thanks, Papa! I knew you wouldn’t hesitate.”
Kate left the office swiftly and went in search of Dr. Boles. She was surprised to find him coming out of Yancey’s room again. When he saw her he hurried towards her.
“Just coming to look for you, Kate ... He’s coming round.” Kate stared at him for a moment then smiled broadly and headed back towards the door with Boles. “That’s a good sign, surely!”
“It is,” Boles said. “But, Kate ... He’ll still need an operation.”
Kate nodded curtly and opened the door. They went in and moved towards the bed where Yancey lay. The nurse was cooling his forehead with a damp cloth. His eyes were open, though they seemed vacant, and he was frowning. He was looking about him, trying to figure out where he was. Boles and Kate stood at the end of the bed as the doctor nodded to the nurse. She gripped Yancey’s shoulder gently and gave him a little shake.
“Mr. Bannerman?” she said quietly. “Mr. Bannerman … Can you turn your head and look at me?”
Yancey slowly turned his head towards the nurse and his frown deepened. His mouth worked and the nurse moistened his lips with the sponge. When he spoke, his voice was a whisper. “Who—who are you?”
The nurse smiled. “Nurse Wright. I’m looking after you till you get well. How d’you feel now, Mr. Bannerman?”
He took a long while answering and, during the pause, Kate and Boles moved to the bed head and smiled down at him.
“Kind of confused,” Yancey said. His fingers clawed at the sheets as he looked up at Kate and Dr. Boles, still frowning.
“Hello, Yancey,” Kate said. “Don’t worry, you’re in good hands; you’re in Austin at Government House, on Capitol Hill.” Kate’s smile faded as his face looked blank at her words. “What’s wrong? Don’t you remember?”
Yancey took a deep breath and shook his head slightly. “No, ma’am, I don’t ... I don’t know where or what Austin is ... I don’t know who you folks are …” For a moment, naked panic showed on his face and his fingers twisted up the sheet. “Fact is ... I—I dunno who I am!”
~*~
Johnny Cato’s face was grim as he went into Governor Dukes office and walked across the room to drop into the chair across the desk from the governor.
“Kind of rough deal for Yancey,” Cato said without preamble.
Dukes nodded. “I've sent for a surgeon to operate on him. He’s starting out from Philadelphia right away. Dr. Boles seems to think that if the bone pressure is relieved, Yancey’s memory will return.”
“I sure as hell hope so,” Cato muttered. “Damn it, sir, I should have gone in after Treece alone, instead of bringin’ in that curly-wolf Watts. I would’ve caught up with him eventually. And he’d still be alive to tell us about those mailbags.”
“No use blaming yourself, John ... Boles said it was the bullet-crease that caused Yancey’s problem, not the train wreck. And there’s every chance Treece would have held up the train anyway before you got to him.”
“Mebbe,” Cato replied, obviously not convinced. “Feel bad about not bringin’ in Treece alive, anyway. We’ve lost all trace of those bags now. The two members of his bunch we took prisoner know nothin’ about ’em. Treece took charge and that’s all they know. I’m sure they’re tellin’ the truth, Governor.”
Dukes lifted a hand to stop him. “You did your best, John. It was only a coincidence that Yancey was on that train.”
Cato frowned and leaned forward. “Yeah, how come he was on it? Where was he headed?”
Dukes looked at Cato levelly. “He was on assignment, John.”
Cato nodded, sensibly not asking further questions.
“Sir, my assignment’s wound up now that Treece is dead. We’ve run into a wall ... I feel kind of—well, guilty, about Yancey. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to take over the rest of his assignment and finish it for him.”
Dukes smiled faintly. “Kind of figured you might, John. Well, could be your two assignments weren’t exactly unrelated, so I guess it’s only fitting that you take over from Yancey and try to follow through. But I warn you now, what I know about it is very sketchy indeed. I’ve no idea what he was doing on that train or where he was headed. You’ll have to start from there. I can give you some information and you’ll see how it could be linked to the job you were doing, tracking down Treece and those mailbags.”
“All right, Governor. I’m ready.”
“Yancey was on the trail of a gang which seems to have access to information that allows them to fake government survey maps, showing routes for proposed railroads through the state ... it’s for future construction, of course, but a lot of men like to get advance knowledge and buy up land along the new routes. You follow, John?”
“Sure. Buy now when it’s cheap and sell at a mighty big profit when the land is opened up by the railroad.”
“That’s it. I’ve had Senator Jason O. Rainey investigating proposed routes for some time and I’m almost ready to make a submission to Congress for funds. Thing is, John, someone’s been faking official survey maps, and marking in the supposed new railway routes ... Only they’re not the routes at all.”
Cato frowned. “What’s the point in that?”
“They sell the ‘official’ maps to snide land agents, who, for a price, ‘leak’ information to men who want to buy up the land cheap. And while this worthless land is being sold, the gang moves in and buys up the land along the real route.”
“I still don’t get it. They could do that anyway and make a damn big profit when the railroad comes through.”
“Sure, John, but it’s the margin of profit. They buy legitimately and they’ll maybe sell for ten times what they paid. They buy in now, when it seems worthless, and they’ll be able to sell for a hundred times more than they paid for it. There’ll be a few millionaires made overnight that way.”
Cato nodded. “I get it. And, as well as buyin’ good land cheap, they also make money from sellin’ the fake maps to the land agents who don’t mind turnin’ a dirty dollar. Kind of ties it all up in a neat package.”
“Right. Now we don’t know where they’re getting their information or the genuine maps, but it’s possible there were duplicates of everything in those mailbags that Treece stole and which we seem to have lost track of.”
“I get it now. It was the first time that Treece had bothered with anything other than express boxes, so it looks like he could’ve been hired to do the job specially, huh?”
“That’s possible, too. I’ve had Yancey working on it from the other end, trying to find out who’s peddling the maps, or the information that allows the maps to be faked. He had a lead on a man named Carlsen and he was moving with him up into the Staked Plains, where, of course, he was when Treece’s bunch caused that train accident. You’ll have to take it from there, John, and I’m afraid there’s little to go on.”
Cato pursed his lips, then accepted the cigar that the governor offered him. He spoke when it was lit and the aromatic smoke rose in a cloud above the desk.
“Well, the train pulled out of Bent’s Junction and that girl, who was with Yancey when I found him in the wreck, told me he got on at Bent’s Junction. She thought he seemed to be acting a little strange ... seems she’s a nurse, and would notice such things. She had just discovered his head-wound when he passed out, just before the explosion on the mountainside caused the wreck. He told her he was goin’ through to Timbertop, which doesn’t mean much, because that’s the railhead. He could have been goin’ to get off anywhere along the way. There are half a dozen towns where the train stops, another half dozen within easy ride of the tracks at whistle-stops. I reckon I ought to start at Bent’s Junction, Governor.”
“Sounds like a good place. What about this girl, John?”
Cato shrugge
d. “She seems okay. Story sounds all right: nurse, noticin’ strange behavior, and so on. Name’s Marnie Hendry and she’s from Concho, a town along the railroad. Or she was goin’ there after a job, she said. I know what you’re thinkin’. She could’ve been tailing Yancey and him bein’ sick was just a good excuse for her to get close to him. But what about this feller Carlsen he was trackin’? No one by that name on the train, far as I could tell.”
“It’ll have to be checked out, John, and I think Bent’s Junction is the place to do it. It’s your assignment now.”
Cato stood up. “Suits me fine, Governor.”
Dukes stood up too and held out his hand. They gripped briefly. “Good luck, John. I'm sorry the information’s so sketchy. If I get anything new, I’ll wire you in code at Bent’s Junction. If you move on, send word to Kate in the usual way.”
Cato paused at the door and looked back at Dukes. “Mebbe you could find room in that wire to let me know how Yancey makes out, huh?”
Dukes smiled slowly. “Reckon I could, John. You can rest assured he’ll have the best of attention.”
Cato nodded and went out. Dukes’ smile faded as he sat down slowly at his desk and sighed, staring at the cigar which he had been forbidden to smoke—on Dr. Boles’ orders. Defiantly, he shoved it between his teeth and puffed furiously. But he slowed down and sighed slow and long.
He sure hoped Yancey came good. Not because he was his top Enforcer, but because of what he meant to Kate and, to get right down to it, what he meant to Dukes himself. He was more like a son to him than a top troubleshooter.
Cato looked in on Yancey before he set out for the Llano Estacado country but his old saddlepard gave no sign of recognition at all. He was sitting up in bed, looking gaunt and sunken eyed, but he seemed in pretty good shape after all he had been through.
“Damned if I can figure things ... what did you say your name is? Don …?”
“John,” Cato told him quietly. “Look, Yance, don’t worry about it. The doc says you been bullet-creased and a hunk of bone is pressin’ on your brain, wipin’ out your memory. There’s a surgeon on his way here to operate. You’ll be okay after that.”
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