Drifter 5 Read online

  ‘What?’

  ‘You know. Now, what did you find out?’

  ‘The rumor is true. I talked to the feller and he confirmed it.’

  ‘How does he know about it?’

  ‘He helped build the stockyards.’

  ‘You believe him?’

  ‘Oh yeah. He wasn’t telling me nothing but the truth by the end of our conversation.’

  French nodded. ‘Who’s behind it? Anyone we know?’

  ‘Two fellers by the name of Breen and Clayton.’

  ‘Okay. Maybe you should get over there and have a look around. Find out what’s what, and then come back here.’

  ‘I can do that.’

  ‘Is that man you had the discussion with going to be a problem?’

  ‘Not in this lifetime.’

  Ellis Thompson was found the following morning in the alley by a store owner. His throat had been cut.

  A Toll Paid in Lead!

  Savage and the others caught up with Bannister just before noon the following day. They were still camped where Morris had the herd bedded for the past few days. His first words were, ‘Where’s that son of a bitch, Breen?’

  ‘He ain’t here. Was long gone by the time we got here.’

  Savage cursed.

  Bannister said, ‘I see you found the woman.’

  Savage glanced at Mavis and nodded. ‘Her and more.’

  He went on to tell him about the Comanches. ‘You have much trouble?’

  ‘Nope. I gave them the option of moving on or staying here, permanent.’

  ‘How’d they take that?’

  ‘Bitched and moaned. But I did find out a snippet of information that may interest you.’

  Savage was intrigued. ‘Do tell.’

  ‘It seems that they weren’t headed to Cheyenne. Breen has a partner up on the South Platte. That’s where they were headed.’

  The Drifter was confused. ‘What’s up there?’

  ‘It seems that they’re building a new railhead. Complete with a town, yards, and there are already herds on the way north with that in mind.’

  ‘You mean they’re cutting out Cheyenne?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘That could spell trouble.’

  ‘There’s a feller in Cheyenne who might think the same way. His name is French. He’s the local stock agent there. He buys all the cattle and then sells them on to the buyers from back east at a healthy profit. And when I say all, I mean all.’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘I might’ve dealt with him once or twice.’

  Savage digested the information and said, ‘That’s where we’ll head. The new railhead.’

  ‘I thought you might say that. I sent word for Breen to expect us. You, actually.’

  ‘How are we off for supplies?’ Savage asked.

  ‘They shouldn’t be a problem for the moment. Maybe after we get to the other side of Raton Pass you could send someone for some more.’

  ‘Okay. Speaking of the toll, I might ride on ahead and see how much it really is going to cost us. If it’s too much, we might have to find another way.’

  Bannister nodded. ‘There are other ways but once you’re up there, it would play hell getting the herd turned. Best we know beforehand.’

  ‘I’ll take the kid with me when I go.’

  The expression on Bannister’s face changed at the mention of it. ‘Are you sure you want to take him? Why not one of the others?’

  ‘Are you afraid he might try to kill me or something?’

  ‘No. I’m afraid you might kill him.’

  ‘You worry too much. I’ve seen his kind before. All piss and vinegar outside while inside is like a little baby waiting to get out.’

  Bannister gave him a wry smile. ‘Yeah, a baby with a blazing six-gun.’

  ‘It’s all good.’

  ‘What about the woman?’

  Savage looked at Mavis again, seated by herself near the chuckwagon. She looked to be in her own world once more.

  ‘That’s something we’ll have to sort out. Come with me.’

  They approached Mavis and stood in front of her. Savage doubted she was even aware of their presence until he spoke.

  ‘Mavis?’

  She looked up at him and Bannister. Her expression changed from blank to one of recognition when she saw the outlaw boss. ‘What’s that cow thief doing here?’

  The Drifter glanced at the smiling Bannister. ‘Does she know you?’

  ‘You could say that.’

  ‘Everyone knows Mike Bannister,’ Mavis hissed. ‘The man’s a cow thief.’

  ‘You’re right, Bannister, she does know you.’

  ‘What can I say, I’m famous.’

  ‘You didn’t answer my question,’ Mavis snapped.

  Savage stared at her. ‘That cow thief just got your herd back for you.’

  Mavis’ eyebrows shot up and she looked around. It was clear she was not fully aware of her surroundings.

  ‘Is this …?’

  Savage nodded. ‘It’s your herd. We got it back for you.’

  Her eyes flitted back and forth as if she were seeing them for the first time. ‘They said you were dead.’

  ‘Damn near.’

  ‘What happens now?’ Mavis asked.

  ‘That kind of depends on you.’

  ‘I’m listening.’

  ‘Are you sure you’re up to it? Maybe we could …’

  ‘No, now’s good,’ she said.

  Savage nodded. ‘Okay. I hired these men to get your herd back and to take them to the railhead. All you have to do is pay them when we arrive, and the herd is sold.’

  She gave Bannister a skeptical look. ‘If they don’t steal the herd first. I can’t imagine they would do anything for thirty a month.’

  ‘They won’t. Once the herd is sold you will pay every man five-hundred dollars. Mike gets a thousand. I get nothing. In return …’

  Mavis leapt to her feet, all signs of her ordeal had suddenly disappeared. ‘The hell I will. If you think I’m paying them that much, you’re crazy.’

  Savage pressed on. ‘In return, they will drive the cattle all the way to the railhead and if need be, they’ll fight for you as well. Besides, you’ll pay out the best part of ten thousand and still have forty left. It’s a damn sight more than what Breen was leaving you with.’

  He was right, and she knew it. She shifted her gaze back to Bannister. ‘What if I still say no?’

  ‘Either way, ma’am, this herd is going to the railhead.’

  ‘I guess I don’t have much choice then, do I?’

  ‘No, ma’am.’

  Savage said, ‘You’ve got my word, and Mike’s, that we’ll get your herd where it needs to go.’

  Mavis’ shoulders sagged in resignation.

  ‘There is one other thing,’ Savage continued.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘We’re not going to Cheyenne.’

  She stared at him, her mind working. Then her eyebrows shot up once more. ‘You’re taking them to the new railhead where Breen is going to be, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘I can’t kill him from Cheyenne now, can I?’

  ‘No, I suppose not.’

  ‘The other thing I would like to do is drop you off somewhere while we complete the drive. A town, maybe.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘After what you’ve been through, I think you’d be better off.’

  ‘No!”

  ‘Damn it!’ Savage cursed.

  ‘If you’re going there to kill Breen for what he did, then I want to be there to watch. After all, none of this would have happened if it hadn’t been for that bastard.’

  Savage looked at Bannister. The latter shrugged his shoulders and said, ‘If she comes, she works like the rest of us.’

  ‘What did you have in mind?’

  ‘She can help Grub around the camp.’

  ‘Can you do that?’ Savag
e asked her.

  ‘You seem to forget these are my cows.’

  ‘Can you do that?’ Savage repeated.

  She nodded.

  ‘Good. That’s settled.’

  Their next stop was the kid, Hanson. When they approached, he stared warily at Savage.

  The Drifter said, ‘You and I are taking a ride tomorrow. We’ll be gone four or five days, so we’ll grab some food before we leave.’

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘Raton Pass. I want to see how much money we’ll have to hand over to get through the gate.’

  ‘Why me? Take one of the others.’

  Savage’s gaze hardened. ‘You’re coming. Have someone else take care of the remuda until you get back. If you don’t like that, then collect your time and dust.’

  There was fire in the young man’s eyes as he turned away and stalked off. Bannister watched him go. He said, ‘Don’t push him too far, Savage. He won’t take much more.’

  ‘He needs to learn self-control. If he keeps going through life the way he is, someone will put a bullet in him.’

  Raton Pass

  Toll Road.

  The front door of the two-storey stone-built home opened and slammed shut, its noise echoed throughout the building, followed by the sound of heels on the floorboards.

  The slim frame of Milo Craig came in through the open door of the saloon part of the building and found the man he was looking for sitting at a round table with an almost empty bottle of whiskey.

  ‘There’s a wagon approaching, Beck. Don’t look like much.’

  Beck nodded his unshaven, shaggy head. ‘All right, get the others.’

  The outlaw’s voice was a deep, baritone rumble. He looked across at Denver and said, ‘Just do like we say and there’ll be no trouble.’

  Denver’s face showed concern. After all, it was his place that Beck and his men had taken over and there was nothing he could do about it. They were the ones with the guns, not him. They’d taken all his weapons away and locked them in the food store.

  Denver nodded. ‘Okay.’

  There were three other men with Greg Beck, one-time border raider, full-time outlaw. Tic, a young killer from Kansas who had shot down the father of a young woman he was sparking because the father didn’t approve of him. Groves, a stagecoach specialist before he met Beck and Welsh, who did over anything that paid, regardless of whether it paid well or not.

  They walked outside and stood on the veranda. Coming along the rutted trail from the Colorado side was a Conestoga wagon drawn by a four-horse team. Two men armed with rifles sat side by side on the hard, timber seat. A third, similarly armed, rode a bay horse and brought up the rear.

  The guns and their owners immediately drew Beck’s attention, warranting closer inspection.

  ‘Well now,’ Milo said, stepping up to the outlaw leader’s side, ‘that seems like a lot of firepower for a wagon hauling freight.’

  Beck agreed. ‘My thoughts exactly. Be ready.’ He turned to Denver. ‘I’ll be watching you.’

  The wagon rolled up to the chain that blocked its passage and stopped. Denver walked down the narrow path from his house.

  ‘H—howdy gents,’ he managed to get out after the greeting caught in his dry throat. ‘You all come far?’

  The driver gave him an impatient glance before letting his gaze wander to Beck and his men. ‘Far enough. How much?’

  Denver gave Beck a nervous look before he said, ‘Twenty-dollars.’

  The man on the seat beside the driver just about fell off it. ‘Twenty? You’ve got to be shitting me. Twenty-dollars just to use this damned strip of dirt.’

  Beck stepped forward to the edge of the veranda. ‘Takes a mite of effort to keep the road fit for travel. Costs money, too.’

  The passenger snorted. ‘Well, I guess business has been slack, ’cause that track ain’t had shit done to it in recent times.’

  ‘Ease up, Bert,’ the driver cautioned him. ‘Just give the man the money.’

  With a grunt of anger, the man called Bert dug into his pocket and took a roll of bills out, peeled one off, and gave it to Denver.

  ‘Hope you damn well choke on it,’ he growled.

  Out of the blue, Beck asked, ‘What ya all hauling?’

  The driver said, ‘Mining supplies.’

  A lie, Beck assumed when he saw the rider at the rear of the wagon change the way his Sharps carbine was placed. Then the outlaw frowned when he saw the brand on the horse. A U.S. cavalry brand.

  Beck hissed out of the corner of his mouth at Milo. ‘Milo, kill them!’

  Beck’s Colt Navy was set up for a cross draw and his right hand streaked across his body and grasped the walnut grips. The weapon came free of the holster and as it rose, he thumbed back the hammer.

  His first shot was aimed at Bert and the slug slammed into the man’s head and blew his brains all over the driver’s face.

  Shock registered on the man’s face as the flat report of the six-gun sounded and Bert’s brains splattered across him. He fought to regain control of himself and made to bring his rifle into action, but it had only traveled a few inches before Milo shot him in the chest.

  He tumbled from the seat and hit the ground, out of sight behind the team of horses. The team lurched forward and dislodged the slumped form of Bert. He hit the ground in an untidy heap and as the spooked team of horses lurched even further forward, the heavy wagon rolled over him and cut him almost in half. The chain across the road pulled them up.

  While this was happening, the last man managed to snap off a shot that found flesh. The heavy caliber slug struck Groves just below the bottom rib on the left side. It punched through his innards and blew a fist-sized hole in his back on exit, with a shower of bright-red blood.

  The outlaw grunted and sank to his knees, the numbness of shock keeping the pain away.

  The Sharps in the rider’s hands would never fire again. Three bullets from Beck, Milo, and Tic ripped into his chest and knocked him from his horse. He hit the ground with an audible thump and didn’t move.

  As the last of the gunfire rolled away across the landscape, there was movement from behind the horse team.

  The driver stood up on unsteady legs, a bloody stain obvious on his chest. He gritted his teeth against the pain and fought to bring up a six-gun in his right hand.

  Beck sighted along the barrel of his own smoking weapon and fired one last shot.

  The driver’s head snapped back, a dark hole appearing in his forehead as his eyes rolled upward. His legs gave out and he slumped to the ground.

  Amidst all the violence, Denver stood trembling uncontrollably as shock descended upon him.

  A moan caught Beck’s ear and he turned to see Groves hunched over just off the end of the veranda. The outlaw boss called out to Milo, ‘Get rid of the bodies and take the wagon around back. I want to see what’s in it.’

  Milo said, ‘Sure.’

  Beck walked over to Groves and looked down at him. ‘Are you okay?’

  The wounded man looked up at him through pain-filled eyes. ‘Bastard got me good, Beck. My hands are holding my guts in. I need a doctor or I’m going to die.’

  He coughed, a wet, wracking cough that shook his body and left him breathless.

  Beck nodded and drew his six-gun. He thumbed back the hammer and shot the wounded man in the head. ‘Sorry, ain’t going to happen.’

  The wagon rattled as it was driven around the house to the back. The bodies were dumped into a dry creek some hundred yards away from the road. It had steep banks which the outlaws collapsed over the corpses.

  Once the wagon was sequestered way, and the horses put in the corral, they started to go through the wagon.

  What they found were sacks of flour, grain, a small pack of lumber, and some other odds and ends, but nothing of value.

  ‘There’s nothing here, Beck,’ said Milo.

  ‘Keep looking. There’s something, somewhere.’

  It took a while, bu
t they finally found the false bottom in the wagon, along with the cache inside of it. Beck figured there to be around twenty-thousand dollars in notes and coin.

  ‘What are we going to do with all of this?’ Milo asked Beck.

  The outlaw leader stared at it for a moment and then said, ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Are we going to give it to French?’

  A long pause.

  Then: ‘Not all of it. Keep some aside for us. The rest he can have. Get a count and then give us half.’

  Milo nodded. ‘What happened with Groves?’

  ‘I killed him.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘He was dying. Gut shot.’

  ‘Uh huh,’ Milo said, and left it at that.

  Savage and the kid arrived the following day. It was late in the afternoon and the Drifter figured they would spend the night there and start back to the herd the next morning.

  It had been a quiet ride. Savage had given up trying to make conversation with the young hot-head after the first few hours of travel. Now they were approaching the double-storey home-come-hotel at the toll gate.

  There was a hitchrail just off the road at the base of the house and the riders drew their mounts up to it. Savage had noticed a corral out the back and thought they would be able to keep the horses there.

  Before they’d even dismounted, they saw five men exit through a doorway to stand on the veranda.

  Savage noticed the way Hanson stiffened when he saw them. Without waiting for the kid to do anything foolish he said, ‘Cool it kid.’

  Hanson glared at him over the back of his horse but remained silent.

  Beck called out to them, ‘Howdy, gents. Come far?’

  ‘Far enough to work up a mighty big hunger,’ Savage said. ‘Thought maybe we could get a meal here?’

  ‘Sure, sure. Old Denver here knows his way around the kitchen right smart.’

  Savage looked at the man Beck had indicated and saw the nervous expression on his face. He said, ‘I’m real glad to hear that. My stomach was starting to think my throat was cut.’

  Beck gave them a disarming smile. ‘Why don’t you all put your horses in the corral and then come on inside. It’ll save you doing it later. Milo can help you out.’

  Milo stepped forward at the mention of his name.

  Savage shook his head. ‘No need. We can take care of it. I tell you what though, after we get that done, maybe we could buy you folks a drink for being so hospitable.’