The Winchester Run Page 3

  Fourteen men followed Jernigan back from Indian Territory. Milo Quince, the leader of the bunch, rode alongside Jernigan, and the two talked.

  “There’s ten hombres guardin’ the six wagons,” Jernigan said, “and from what I’ve been told, they’re a salty bunch. Four of ’em have been deputized by Sheriff Harrington. I reckon we’ll have to kill them all, and the sheriff, too, if he gets froggy.”

  “I reckon we understand one another, then,” said Quince. “We don’t leave nobody alive that’s got the sand to come after us.”

  “My sentiments exactly,” Jernigan replied. “We won’t move in until after midnight, so the town will be mostly closed up.”

  They rode in from the east, and by the time they were within half a mile of the town, the night wind brought them the unmistakable sound of a locomotive with steam up. There was a chuff-chuff-chuffing, and they could see sparks billowing from the stack.

  “Damn it,” said Quince, “the train crew must still be there.”

  “No matter,” Jernigan replied. “It’s easier, keepin’ up steam in the boilers, than havin’ to fire it up in the morning. Besides, that gives me an idea. Why don’t we just get the drop on that gent that’s firin’ the engine, and take the whole damn train?”

  Quince laughed. “You won’t get no argument out of me. I’d as soon be shot for a sheep as a lamb. We’ll be a while, gettin’ them wagons off the flatcars, and if we’re a few miles away from Dodge, all the better.”

  “Ever’thing depends on us gettin’ the drop on that gent that’s firin the boilers,” said Jernigan. “I’m takin’ care of him. When I got him covered, I aim to use him to force them hombres out of hiding that’s been hired to guard the wagons. Once they’re out where you can see ’em, you know what to do.”

  “We’ll cut them down to the last man,” Quince said.

  “That’s it,” said Jernigan. “Then the lot of you mount your horses and follow after that train, until we’re safely away from Dodge. Keep an eye on your backtrail, and if anybody—such as the sheriff—decides to follow, shoot to kill.”

  Mac Tunstall and Buck Prinz were in the caboose, at the end of the train, while Haze Sanderson and Red McLean had remained in the passenger coach, directly behind the tender. Of the teamsters, Port Guthrie and Lafe Beard were awake, while their companions all slept.

  “I ain’t used to bein’ closed up like this,” Haze Sanderson said. “I think I’ll go up to the engine and chew the fat with the fireman.”

  “I’ll go with you,” said Red McLean.

  There was no moon, and it being past midnight, most of Dodge City slept. There was only an occasional distant light.

  “Them bullwhackers is a good bunch,” Haze said, “but they all like to light up their Durham. I don’t smoke the stuff, and it’s hell on me.”

  “Me, too,” Red replied. “Wasn’t but two of ’em lit up, but with all the smoke, you’d of thought the coach was afire.”

  Suddenly, over the sound of the engine blowing off steam, they heard a voice.

  “I got you covered, bucko. I want you to walk along the track, toward that passenger coach. One bad move, and I’ll kill you.”

  Haze and Red moved quickly away from the track, drawing their Colts. Two sets of footsteps came toward them, for they could hear the crunch of cinders and ballast. They waited until the captive railroad man had walked past them, and Red challenged the man with the gun.

  “Drop the gun, amigo. You’re covered.”

  But the challenge went unheeded. There was a roar, followed by an answering blast, as Red McLean fired at the muzzle flash. An agonized groan told him what he wanted to hear, and he eased down the hammer on his Colt. Gravel crunched as the trainman ran back the way he had come, toward the locomotive. Finally there was the distant sound of galloping horses.

  “The bastards,” grunted the man Red had shot, “they’re . . . runnin’ out . . . on me.”

  Among those drawn by the shooting was the brakeman, and he approached from the caboose, with a lighted lantern.

  “You with the lantern,” Red called, “stay back. He may be playin’ possum.”

  “No,” said the man on the ground, “I . . . I’m hurt. I need a doc.”

  “Come on with the lantern,” said Red.

  By the time the brakeman arrived with the lantern, followed by Mac Tunstall and Buck Prinz, the bullwhackers were there with Winchesters. There was a clatter of hooves, and Sheriff Harrington reined up.

  “I’ve seen this varmint around town,” Harrington said. “What was he trying to do?”

  “Him and a gang of owl hoots was after the wagons on the train,” said Red.

  “Yeah,” the fireman said, “this one on the ground snuck up behind me with a gun. He said he’d kill me if I made a bad move.”

  “A couple of you tote him to jail,” said Harrington. “I’ll have the doc patch him up, and in the morning, I’ll ride to Fort Dodge. Considering the nature of what he was about to do, I reckon the Federals will be interested in him.”

  “I ain’t takin’ . . . all the rap,” the wounded man said. “This . . . was Brandt’s idea.”

  “Watson Brandt?” Mac Tunstall asked sharply.

  “Yeah,” the wounded man replied.

  “Tarnation,” said Buck Prinz, “he’s son-in-law to Hiram Yeager, owner of the freight line that hired us. He’s in charge all the way to Austin, Texas.”

  “He won’t be, after this,” Mac Tunstall said. “I reckon the post commander at Fort Dodge will be telegraphing Mr. Yeager.”

  “Who are you, mister?” Sheriff Harrington asked the wounded man.

  “Jernigan is . . . my name, and I . . . ain’t sayin’ . . . no more.”

  “After we get him to jail,” said Haze, “let’s roust out Watson Brandt. I’m just plumb anxious to hear what he’s got to say.”

  “Hell, yes,” one of the teamsters said. “This wagon caravan to Austin is shapin’ up to be right interesting.”

  Watson Brandt had taken a room at the Dodge House, and became abusive when he was awakened by Sheriff Harrington.

  “I won’t be pushed around by a hick-town sheriff,” he bawled. “I represent the Plains Freight Lines, and I’ll telegraph—”

  “You won’t have to telegraph,” said Mac Tunstall, who had accompanied the sheriff. “We just shot a friend of yours—an hombre named Jernigan—who claims you’re behind his trying to take those wagons off the train. I’m going to ask the post commander at Fort Dodge to contact Mr. Yeager.”

  “Damn you,” Brandt bawled, “I had nothing to do with this. I know nothing about it.”

  “Then how did Jernigan learn of these wagons?” Mac demanded.

  “He’s quartermaster at Fort Dodge,” said Brandt.

  “That’s why he looks familiar,” Sheriff Harrington said. “I go to the fort occasionally, and I’ve seen him in town.”

  “But that doesn’t mean Brandt’s telling the truth,” said Mac. “From what Mr. Yeager said, word of this arms shipment has been kept quiet, except for a leak to the newspaper in Kansas City. I think we need to play Mr. Brandt against Jernigan, and see who’s the most willing to talk. Jernigan don’t seem like the kind who’s willing to risk court-martial, if he can talk his way out of it.”

  “Whatever he says, he’s lying,” Brandt cried desperately.

  “We’ll get some answers in the morning,” said Sheriff Harrington. “Brandt, if you got ideas about running, just bear in mind that the law considers that an admission of guilt.”

  “I’ll be here,” Brandt said grimly.

  He slammed the door and bolted it, leaving Mac and Sheriff Harrington in the hall.

  “You believe he’s guilty, then,” said Sheriff Harrington.

  “I do,” Mac replied. “Somebody got word of these arms and ammunition to the newspaper in Kansas City. I think that was done so that Brandt could draw suspicion from himself, after the robbery. He’s going to argue that if the newspaper people could learn of the
se arms and ammunition, then so could Jernigan or anybody else.”

  “That could have been the case,” said Sheriff Harrington. “It’s going to be interesting when Brandt and Jernigan come together.”

  “Sheriff,” Mac said, “I have an idea. Why don’t you see if Brandt rented a horse at one of the liveries sometime after the train arrived here? I believe he went to Fort Dodge and talked with Jernigan.”

  “If Brandt rode to the fort,” said Harrington, “he likely would have waited until after dark. Civilians are not allowed to enter after dark, so Brandt would have had to ask for Jernigan at the gate. The officer of the guard will remember.”

  “Do it your way, Sheriff,” Mac said, “but we’re not leaving Dodge with those wagons, as long as there’s any doubt of Brandt’s involvement.”

  Mac Tunstall returned to the train, and although every man remained awake the rest of the night, there was no further disturbance.

  “We’ll eat five at a time, like we did at supper,” said Port Guthrie, “if that’s suitable to everybody.”

  “I reckon we can all agree on that,” Mac replied. “It’s been a long night, and we can all stand some breakfast and hot coffee.”

  By the time the ten men had eaten and were all again with the waiting train, Sheriff Harrington arrived.

  “You were dead right, Tunstall,” he said, dismounting. “Brandt rented a horse last night, just after dark. He was denied entry at Fort Dodge, and the sergeant of the guard sent Jernigan to the gate. After Jernigan’s conversation with Brandt, Jernigan picked up a pass and rode out. I reckon that answers some questions.”

  “It does,” said Mac. “Brandt and Jernigan are both neck-deep in it. On the way here, some outlaws blew up the track just this side of Newton, and we killed four of them. Now I’m wondering if Brandt didn’t plan that.”

  “If he did,” Harrington said, “you’ll never get it out of him. But you won’t need that. His involvement with Jernigan will be enough to finish him. I took the liberty of telegraphing Yeager, at Plains Freight Lines, and waited for an answer. Here it is.”

  Jail Brandt and Jernigan stop. Inform Tunstall and companions wagons to remain in Dodge until I arrive.

  The message had been signed by Hiram Yeager, of Plains Freight Lines.

  “That means Brandt won’t be segundo from here on to Austin,” Red McLean said.

  “I’d gamble that you’re right,” said Sheriff Harrington. “This is shaping up like Brandt and Jernigan are going to implicate one another. I’m going to suggest to Yeager that we have a hearing before the judge, taking testimony from the fireman who was taken hostage, from those of you who captured Jernigan, and finally, from Brandt and Jernigan. I’ll see that personnel from Fort Dodge are on hand to identify Brandt and testify to his meeting with Jernigan last night.”

  “You’re a thorough man, Sheriff,” Mac said, “and we’re obliged. I believe Mr. Yeager will be, too.”

  Hiram Yeager arrived that afternoon. The train was a special, consisting of the locomotive, the tender, a passenger coach, and a caboose. It was sidetracked behind the train that waited with the wagons. When Yeager stepped down from the passenger coach, he was followed by two army officers. There were captain’s bars on the epaulets of their blue coats. The ten men Yeager had hired to protect and deliver the arms and ammunition were there to meet the train, accompanied by Sheriff Harrington. Harrington introduced himself.

  “Sheriff,” said Yeager, “this is Captain Meeker and Captain Oliver, from Fort Leavenworth. They are here because one of the men you are holding—Jernigan—is career military. They wish to meet with the post commander at Fort Dodge, prior to any hearing before the judge.”

  “Suits me,” Sheriff Harrington said. “We’ll do it in whatever manner you like. All I’m doing is holding this pair in jail, until their day in court. The gents you have to thank are those over yonder beside those flatcars, with the wagons. They caught Jernigan as he was about to capture the train with a band of renegades. Mr. Tunstall figured there had to be a connection between Jernigan and Brandt, and I established the truth of that, by riding out to Fort Dodge. Brandt and Jernigan had met early last night, before Jernigan and a gang of outlaws attempted to take the wagons.”

  “Thank you, Sheriff,” said Yeager. “Now, if all of you will excuse me, I need to talk to those men who are waiting for me.”

  Yeager approached Tunstall and his companions, and the teamsters he had hired to drive the wagons from Dodge to Austin. One by one, Yeager shook their hands, and it was Mac Tunstall who spoke first.

  “Sorry we had to send you bad news, Mr. Yeager.”

  “All you men acted in the best interests of Plains Freight Lines,” Yeager said, “and I am more than satisfied with your performance. It appears that we may be here for several days, until the law takes its course. Among yourselves, set up a schedule for sentry duty, so that these wagons are secured twenty-four hours a day. I will arrange for quarters and food at one of the hotels.”

  With that, he turned away. Sheriff Harrington had provided a buckboard, and he led Yeager and the pair of army officers to it.

  “Well, damn,” Red McLean said, “I was hopin’ he would tell us what he aims to do about Watson Brandt. It’ll be just our luck for the slippery varmint to weasel his way out of this, and give us hell from here to Austin.”

  “I don’t think so,” said Mac. “I’ve already seen Brandt try to blame it all on Jernigan, and I can’t see Jernigan getting maybe ten years at hard labor, while Brandt goes free. I’d say each is going to implicate the other.”

  An hour before sundown, Hiram Yeager returned to the railroad siding where the men he had hired stood watch over the six loaded wagons still on flatcars. Every man gathered around to hear what Yeager had to say.

  “A hearing has been scheduled for Friday, the nineteenth,” said Yeager. “I’ve arranged for rooms for all of you at the Dodge House, when you’re not on watch, and you may take your meals at Delmonico’s.”

  Just when it seemed Yeager wasn’t going to tell them anything more—when he had turned to leave—he changed his mind.

  “From what I have already heard, I have seen fit to make one change. Watson Brandt has been relieved of any further responsibility insofar as this expedition is concerned. You, Tunstall, will be in charge, and to compensate you for the added responsibility, you are to receive an additional hundred dollars. The rest of you—when the wagons have been safely delivered to Austin—will receive an additional fifty dollars. You will be paid by an officer at the ordnance depot.”

  With that, he was gone, and it was all the assembled men could do to avoid cheering.

  “It’s surprising that he made such a decision before the hearing,” Port Guthrie said.

  “Not if he’s talked to Jernigan,” said Mac. “I don’t believe Brandt can lie his way out of this.”

  “Neither do I,” Red McLean said. “If we hadn’t caught Jernigan, there wouldn’t be any connection to Brandt, but like Mac says, each will likely convict the other.”

  The men continued standing watch over the loaded wagons, but there was no trouble. On Thursday, the day before the hearing, there was some excitement when the westbound arrived. Four women exited the passenger coach, and stood looking around.

  “Tarnation!” said Red McLean, “prettier than speckled pups, and not a one older than twenty-two or -three.”

  “Out of our reach,” Buck Prinz said. “Way they’re lookin’ around, they’re all bein’ met by somebody. Soldiers from the fort, likely.”

  But the four looked in vain, for nobody paid the slightest attention to them, except the men who guarded the six loaded wagons.

  “Whoever they’re lookin’ for ain’t here,” said Haze Sanderson.

  “No,” Mac Tunstall said, “and it’s downright ungentlemanly of us not to offer to help them in any way we can. Come on.”

  “You gents go ahead,” said Port Guthrie. “They’d likely fall into a faint, if all of us was to go t
roopin’ over there.”

  Mac led the way, and was the first to speak.

  “Ladies, is there anything we can do to help?”

  “Perhaps,” said the girl with red hair and blue eyes. “Is there a carriage available that can take us to a hotel?”

  “Nothing short of the livery,” Mac said, “and they’d expect you to pay. All of us have horses, and if you don’t mind riding double, each of us could take one of you.”

  “We aren’t exactly dressed for it,” said the blonde with brown eyes. “Besides, there’s our trunks.”

  “Maybe the Dodge House can send somebody for the trunks,” Buck Prinz said.

  “Come on,” Red urged. “We’re almost bearable, once you get to know us.”

  “But we don’t know you,” said the girl with black hair and green eyes.

  “That’s easy to fix,” Mac said. “I’m Mac Tunstall, the gent with red hair is Red McLean, the varmint with sandy hair is Haze Sanderson, and the paisano with the hole in the crown of his hat is Buck Prinz.”

  Despite themselves, they laughed.

  “I’m Trinity McCoy,” said the girl with red hair and blue eyes. “This,” she said, gesturing toward the blonde with brown eyes, “is Hattie Sutton. Next to her,” she said, with a nod toward the girl with curly black hair and green eyes, “is Rachel Price. And this is Elizabeth Graves,” she concluded, pointing to the girl with brown hair and hazel eyes.

  “Now that we’re acquainted,” Buck Prinz said, “are you ready to ride on to the Dodge House?”

  “We’re not dressed for it,” said Hattie. “It would be indecent.”

  “Oh, darn,” Rachel said, “nobody here’s ever seen us before, and when we’re gone, they’ll never see us again. Let’s do it.”

  “We can lift you up in front of us,” said Mac, “so you won’t straddle the horse.”

  “Bring on the horses, then,” Elizabeth said.

  “It’s not too early for supper,” said Red. “Delmonico’s is just across the street from the hotel. Will you ladies do us the honor of eating with us?”

  “I will,” Trinity said. “I’m half-starved.”