‘What do you make of this, nephew?’ Brady Anchor drawled, showing the red-head the card and letter. ‘Miss Cravern here’s a lady detective.’
‘Special Investigator,’ the girl corrected primly. ‘It’s not quite the same thing.’
‘You handled him just like a detective, ma’am,’ Jeff praised and pointed to the almost conscious deputy.
‘It was his own fault,’ Sybil snorted with gentle indignation. ‘He made an improper suggestion to me when I came into the office. So I thought I would teach him a lesson.’
‘You near enough did that, ma’am,’ Jeff admitted. ‘If he’d hit the bars, way he was going, he might’ve bust his neck.’
‘Heavens, yes!’ Sybil gasped. ‘I didn’t realize that I had pushed him so hard.’
Having already formed a very low opinion of the deputy’s moral and general conduct, neither Brady nor Jeff doubted that the girl was speaking the truth about her motives. Although they were a pair of reasonably cynical, hard-bitten ex-peace officers, who knew better than to take people at face value, they doubted if such a patently honest-looking, innocent-appearing girl would lie. Certainly she was the kind of girl who would attract a man like Briskow and might cause him to be insulting. So they decided, without consulting each other, that pure chance rather than strength, design or skill had sent the deputy hurtling across the passage in such a spectacular and potentially dangerous manner.
‘All right, nephew,’ Brady said, reaching a conclusion and returning the girl’s identification card. ‘We’ll go with the lady.’
‘Bueno,’ Jeff enthused. ‘I was getting tired of being in here anyways.’
‘I’ll keep this letter, ma’am,’ Brady went on, folding it in a way that showed he would accept no refusal.
‘Certainly,’ Sybil agreed instantly. ‘Mr. Barnstaple told me to suggest that you did.’
‘Yes’m,’ Brady drawled. ‘Let’s tend to this yack’s needings, nephew.’
Taking hold of Briskow by the arms and legs, Brady and Jeff carried him—struggling dazedly and feebly—into the cell. Dumping him unceremoniously on the bunk which the red-head would have occupied, they gagged him with his own bandanna and used his waist belt to secure his wrists.
‘Might’s well make it look good,’ Brady commented, surveying their handiwork. ‘Just go and wait in the office for a spell, ma’am.’
‘Why?’ Sybil inquired.
‘Way we’re going to fasten his legs isn’t for a lady to watch,’ Jeff explained. ‘We’re going to use his pa ...’
‘I’ll go,’ Sybil said hastily, blushing in a dainty and attractive manner.
Still carrying their revolvers, the girl left the cells’ section. Jeff unfastened the front of Briskow’s Levi’s, drawing them down to pinion his legs just above the knees. While the redhead was doing that, Brady donned his jacket and hat. Jeff covered the deputy with a blanket and, taking up his Stetson, followed his uncle from the cell. Locking the writhing Briskow in, they turned to find the girl had re-entered. They retrieved their weapons and she closed the connecting door.
‘It might be better if we leave by the rear entrance,’ Sybil suggested. ‘I have your horses waiting behind the building.’
‘We’d best get going then,’ Brady replied, accepting his Thunderer. He slid it into the directional-draw shoulder holster and secured the press-stud.
‘That deputy’s sure going to be riled when he gets loose,’ Jeff guessed, as he slipped the pin of his Colt into the belt slot.
On leaving the building by the rear door, Brady and Jeff found that the girl had not only collected their horses, but had brought along all their belongings. There was a buck-board, drawn by a spirited bay harness horse, standing by the bayo-tigres and appaloosa.
‘Where did you get our gear from, ma’am?’ Jeff wanted to know, although he had worded the question wrongly. ‘I mean, how did you get it?’
‘From Mr. Mueller at the livery barn,’ Sybil replied. ‘He helped me to saddle your horses.’
‘Good for Dutchy,’ Jeff grinned, for he had been wondering how the slender girl had not only handled the heavy saddles but also dealt with the two powerful, spirited horses. ‘Let me help you in, ma’am.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ Sybil answered, allowing him to assist her aboard the buckboard. Waiting until he and Brady had mounted, she went on, ‘Come this way, please, gentlemen.’
Following the girl away from the town, Brady noticed that their route was taking them to the west. Looking at the buildings, he identified the rear of the bank. It was in darkness, which did not surprise him.
Suddenly, a thought struck Brady.
‘Who was it started shooting at the gang, Jeff?’
‘I don’t know,’ the red-head admitted. ‘Fact being, I don’t even know how the woman who did the yelling could have known they’d robbed the bank. Way they was acting, wasn’t nothing to show what they’d done.’
‘Maybe she was looking down from the window of that house opposite and could see what was going on in the bank,’ Brady said pensively. ‘Only, if that was so, why didn’t she just start yelling straight away and not wait until they came out?’
‘Could be she figured on doing more than just scaring them,’ Jeff remarked. ‘The Winchester was fired from the upstairs wind...’
‘Only the house was empty, with a “For Sale” sign in a window,’ Brady concluded, fitting the thought that had just come to his nephew into words. Then he looked at the buck-board, noticing a Winchester Model of 1873 rifle rode in a boot at the side of the vehicle. ‘We’ve got us a lady detective—sorry, ma’am, Special Investigator—here. Maybe she can solve it for us.’
‘Well,’ Sybil said, in the most innocent tones imaginable.
‘I do admit that I was in the house. And I saw that nobody else was aware that the robbery had been committed—except for the victims in the bank—’
‘How did you know it’d happened?’ Brady interrupted.
‘I’d been watching the men...’ Sybil began.
‘Did you recognize any of them?’ Jeff wanted to know.
‘Not their names. But something about how they acted made me suspicious. I’d seen them ride in together, then they separated but left their horses with the tall, young one. The Texas Bankers’ Protective Association doesn’t approve of its Investigators raising false alarms. So I went into that empty house, after I’d collected Mr. Barnstaple’s Winchester. Only I’m not a very good shot and—well, I could hardly try to shoot another human being, now, could I?’
‘I suppose not, ma’am,’ Brady admitted, before he could stop himself.
‘How come you didn’t show yourself, ma’am?’ Jeff wanted to know.
‘I’m a Special Investigator,’ Sybil reminded them. ‘And I’m working secretly in Rocksprings. I know I can rely upon your discretion, gentlemen. The Association is checking up on Banker Cuthbertson—’
‘I knowed he wasn’t to be trusted!’ Jeff ejaculated.
‘It seems that he isn’t,’ the girl agreed sadly, as if hurt by the treachery of the banker. ‘And I couldn’t do my work correctly if everybody knew who I am, could I?’
‘How’d you get to Rocksprings, ma’am?’ Brady asked.
‘By stagecoach, timing my arrival to coincide with Mr. Barnstaple’s.’
‘Why’d he want Uncle Brady and me out of jail, ma’am?’ Jeff inquired.
‘Especially this way?’ Brady went on.
‘He’ll explain everything,’ Sybil promised. ‘We haven’t far to go now.’
‘Can’t you give us just a lil hint, ma’am?’ Jeff drawled.
‘It wouldn’t be proper for me to do so,’ Sybil assured him. ‘There’s the place now. You’ll soon have all your questions answered.’
They had just topped a rise and the girl pointed to the black bulk of a small cabin. A light shone from one window and a horse was standing in the shadows at the other end of the building. There was no other sign of life. Then the door opened. Brady and Jeff each reached towards his Colt, refraining from drawing when they saw Barnstaple framed in the glow of a lamp.
‘Good evening, gentlemen,’ the distinguished-looking man greeted. ‘I hope you don’t hold any hard will towards me after what I had to do at the bank?’
‘You acted for the best,’ Brady answered and Jeff rumbled agreement. ‘Only neither of us was too happy about busting out of jail.’
‘A thing like that can get a man a bad name,’ Jeff pointed out
‘Not in your cases, gentlemen,’ Barnstaple promised.
While talking, the party had come to a halt. The men dismounted and the girl dropped gracefully from the seat of the buckboard. Waiting until the animals had been secured, Barnstaple ushered them into the cabin. It had been deserted for some time and, apart from the lamp, had no furnishings.
‘I apologize for the accommodation, gentlemen,’ Barnstaple remarked. ‘We only found the place this morning while we were riding and discussing what to do about investigating Cuthbertson’s affairs.’
‘You going to nail his hide to the wall?’ Jeff asked hopefully.
‘It may come to that,’ Barnstaple admitted. ‘But, to business. I hope that you didn’t have any trouble in getting out of jail?’
‘Not much,’ Brady drawled, seeing the girl looking imploringly at him and acting in an honorable manner.
‘I didn’t think you would. Miss Cravern’s very efficient.’
‘We saw that,’ Jeff grinned. ‘She heaved that loudmouthed deputy across the room like a bluetick hound fetching a coon off a log.’
‘I had to do it, sir,’ Sybil apologized.
‘I’m sure you did,’ Barnstaple smiled and looked at the men. ‘She gets a little impulsive at times.’
‘Don’t we all,’ Brady countered.
‘You didn’t hurt him too badly, did you, Miss Cravern?’ Barnstaple demanded, losing his smile.
‘He’ll have a sore head is all,’ Jeff put in gallantly. ‘And it was me, not Miss Cravern’s did it.’
‘Why have us look like we bust out, then meet you here?’ Brady wanted to know.
‘To talk in complete privacy and secrecy,’ Barnstaple explained. ‘If you are to succeed in what lies ahead, there mustn’t be the slightest doubt that you did “escape” from Rocksprings jail. We might have gone unnoticed if we’d met at the hotel, but I preferred not to take chances. It’s your lives that will be at stake.’
‘Most of that’s gone clear over my head,’ Jeff declared. ‘You know what it means, Uncle Brady?’
‘Nope, but I figure we’ll learn.’
‘You’ve both been peace officers, haven’t you?’ Barnstaple inquired.
‘Sure,’ Brady agreed.
‘Rangers?’
‘Uncle Brady was a sergeant, but I never made more than private,’ Jeff answered. ‘Only we’re not with the Rangers anymore.’
‘Have you done any more thinking about the hold-up, and what happened when we caught up with the gang?’ Barnstaple asked.
‘Some,’ Brady admitted.
‘Why do you think they threw away the loot?’ Barnstaple said, watching Brady’s face. ‘The way I saw it, that’s what happened. They didn’t drop the sacks, they threw them down; even before we’d got close enough to be dangerous.’
‘I’ve been thinking some on it,’ Brady admitted. ‘Especially since it comes out that our money wasn’t in the sacks.’
While the conversation had been going on, Jeff had noticed that Sybil was looking around with mild distaste and shuffling her feet as if her legs ached. Deciding that she must be feeling tired, after so eventful a day, he sought for a way in which he might help her. Peeling off his jacket, he set it on the floor by the left side wall.
‘Here, ma’am,’ Jeff offered. ‘It isn’t much, but it’ll save your clothes from getting messed up if you sit on it.’
‘Why, thank you, Sir Walter Raleigh,’ the girl replied, smiling her gratitude and sitting on the jacket to rest her back against the wall.
‘Who’s he?’ Jeff demanded, as he and the other men squat on their heels.
‘He was a gallant English gentleman who ...’ Sybil commenced to explain.
‘I think we can leave the history lesson until a more opportune time, Miss Cravern,’ Barnstaple interrupted.
‘You talk to Uncle Brady, mister,’ Jeff drawled coldly, disliking the tone adopted by the distinguished-looking man when addressing the beautiful girl. ‘He’s from the brainy side of the family. Me, I’d admire to hear more about this Sir Walter jasper.’
‘Very well, Mr. Trade,’ Barnstaple accepted, bringing a smile back to his face. ‘Have you drawn any conclusions, Mr. Anchor?’
‘A few,’ Brady confessed. ‘They could have been beginners, who’d got lucky and did everything right. Then they spooked when they found us so close behind and dropped the sacks hoping it would stop us chasing ’em. They took the chance, having our five thousand in one of ’em’s pocket to help pay for their trouble.’
‘But you don’t like that idea?’
‘Not a whole heap. Beginners would have cleared everything out of the safe, gold, silver, paper money. They wouldn’t’ve had the teller count out exactly fifty thousand in paper, or make him take the wrappers off the packets.’
‘A good point,’ Barnstaple praised, glancing to where Sybil was telling Jeff how Sir Walter Raleigh had gained his knighthood by spreading his cloak over a puddle and saving Queen Elizabeth from wetting her shoes.
‘At first I was wondering if maybe they’d changed the money for leaves, or pieces of newspaper in the post-oaks grove,’ Brady went on. ‘Turned out they hadn’t, when we looked.’
‘Did you wonder if it was the same money in the sack?’ Barnstaple asked.
Something in the distinguished-looking man’s voice warned Brady and Jeff—who was giving the conversation at least part of his attention—that a vital point was about to be made.
‘I’d thought some on it,’ Brady admitted. ‘But it didn’t seem likely they’d be carrying another fifty thousand, in identical sacks, not unless...’
‘Yes?’ Barnstaple prompted.
‘Not unless it was money they couldn’t chance spending. Stolen from some other place, but had had the serial numbers taken.’
‘Or it was counterfeit,’ Barnstaple suggested.
‘Hell yes!’ Brady ejaculated and Jeff’s attention had now left the girl’s history lesson. I’ve heard tell of it being done—’
‘They do say the Yankees done it to us Southron boys in the War,’ Jeff put in. ‘Or would have, only Cap’n Fog v stopped ’em. Him and the Rebel Spy, vi down to New Orleans.’
‘As far as I know,’ Brady drawled, ‘it’s never been done in Texas.’
‘Until now, that is,’ Barnstaple corrected.
‘I’d say you know more than you’ve said so far,’ Brady challenged.
‘Only rumors. But they’re causing concern in my Association. You probably have some idea of the full economic repercussions which can arise from large scale counterfeiting?’
‘Not all of them, but some.’
‘Now me,’ Jeff put in. ‘I don’t know nothing about it.’
‘It’s simple,’ Barnstaple explained. ‘If enough counterfeit currency is put out, it can ruin faith in the country’s genuine money and make that worthless. We’ve heard a rumor that somebody is counterfeiting on a large scale—and doing it so perfectly that only the closest expert examination can detect the bills they’re producing.’
‘They’d have to be good, I reckon,’ Brady guessed.
‘They are good,’ Barnstaple confirmed. ‘Nearly undetectable. I’ve examined the money we recovered from the gang. It’s counterfeit.’
‘Whee doggie!’ Jeff whooped. ‘I’ll bet old Cuthbertson near on bust a gut when he found that out.’
‘He wasn’t pleased,’ Barnstaple confirmed with a grin, then lost it. This is very serious, gentlemen.’
‘Yes, sir!’ Brady drawled, flicking a glance at the girl. She was sitting with her back against the wall and eyes closed. ‘I can see how it would be. I don’t know sic ’em about counterfeiting, but I’d say one of the biggest problems’d be getting rid of the money—’
‘I’ve never had no trouble doing that’ Jeff drawled. ‘All I’ve had to do is go into a store, or a saloon—’
‘It’s not that easy for them,’ Barnstaple interrupted. ‘They’re working in larger sums than you’ve probably ever seen. In fact, most counterfeiters are caught while they are distributing, or disposing of the money. This bunch is smarter and have found a good way of doing it.’
‘You mean they’re using owlhoots to get rid of it?’ Jeff asked.
‘That’s smart figuring for sure,’ Brady went on. ‘So that’s why they asked for exactly fifty thousand dollars and made sure they got it, then insisted on having the wrappers torn off the packets. They had that much counterfeit cash, in identical sacks, hid in their bed rolls. In the bank, they treated us gentle and didn’t even lay hands on the woman, then made sure they didn’t hurt anybody on their way out of town. That was so that folks wouldn’t get too riled up and start screaming for their blood.’
‘That skinny-gutted cuss I shot sure looked like he was figuring on doing hurt to me,’ Jeff protested.
‘Only ‘cause they must’ve figured you’d not be likely to back off from them,’ Brady pointed out. ‘And, ‘sides which, look how you’re dressed. You don’t look like a town-dweller. So there’d be a better than fair chance the folks wouldn’t get pot-boiling mad if a cowhand was gunned down. Or, at least, that’s how the owlhoots might’ve seen it.’
‘Cowhands aren’t usually popular with the citizens of small towns,’ Barnstaple seconded. ‘So I believe your uncle is right.’
‘Well,’ Brady said, ‘Now we know why they went into the post-oaks. It was to swap the sacks over. They were gambling on us turning back once we’d got the money; and that we wouldn’t bother to count it.’
‘Which’s just what we did,’ Jeff said bitterly. ‘And they rode off with our money. How soon do we take out after ’em, Uncle Brady?’
‘I’d say Mr. Barnstaple’s got some notions along those lines, nephew,’ Brady guessed and glanced in a questioning manner at the distinguished-looking man. ‘Haven’t you?’
‘I have. While I am familiar with a number of Texas Rangers, I’m afraid I can’t recollect having heard your names connected with them—’
‘That’s the way ole Cap’n Murat wanted it,’ Jeff explained, when the other’s words died off into an embarrassed silence. ‘He reckoned we’d be of more use if folks didn’t know we was Rangers.’
‘I understand. Did your duties take you into any of the south-western counties?’
‘Some,’ Brady answered. ‘We were sent down there on a special assignment for over nine months, last year. Got to know our way about pretty good.’
‘Nobody down there knows we was Rangers,’ Jeff went on. ‘They thought we was mustanging.’
‘That’s fine!’ Barnstaple enthused. ‘Our information is that the counterfeiters are based in either Terrell, Pecos, Brewster or Presidio Counties. That’s a big area, but better than not knowing where to begin. We want somebody to begin hunting them down and I believe you’re the men to do it.’
‘Trouble with that,’ Jeff drawled, ‘is while we’re doing it, those yahoos are likely to be spending our hard-earned money on drinking, carousing and loose women. If that’s how it’s going to go, I’d sooner it was us doing the spending.’
‘It’s mighty important to us that we catch them,’ Brady admitted.
‘Cuthbertson told me about your mortgage,’ Barnstaple assured him. ‘And he will grant you an extension of three months, or longer if necessary, providing that you will undertake to hunt down the counterfeiters for the Association.’
‘He did that?’ Jeff gasped, in a disbelieving manner which expressed his feelings regarding the banker.
‘He didn’t have any real choice in the matter,’ Barnstaple answered, reaching to his inside left breast pocket. ‘There have been complaints about some of his other banking transactions. So he was ready, if not entirely willing, to be obliging. I’ve got his promise in writing.’
Brady took and read the note which Barnstaple produced. It was written on the bank’s official stationery and stated that Cuthbertson was willing to grant them a three months’ extension on their mortgage, or increase the period if needed, on condition that they gave Barnstaple their assistance. While the letter was written in the distinguished-looking man’s hand, the signature was large and sloppy.
‘I thought it would be best if I wrote the actual agreement,’ Barnstaple commented, before Brady could raise the point. ‘That way, he can’t deny its authenticity.’
‘Bueno,’ Brady answered, folding and pocketing the letter. ‘It’s all we need. Is there anything else you can tell us?’
‘Nothing that comes to mind,’ Barnstaple decided, after a moment’s thought. ‘Except that the Association must be sure that the plates are destroyed. So you will have to deliver them, intact, into my hands for examination. It’s not that I mistrust either of you—’
‘We wouldn’t know whether they were the right plates, or not,’ Brady drawled. ‘So it’s right you should get them to make sure.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ Barnstaple replied. ‘When you hand over the plates, I will give you a reward of fifty thousand dollars.’
“Fifty thousand!’ Jeff yelped, so loudly that the girl woke up and stared around with her right hand snaking like lightning into the vanity bag.
An instant later, Sybil held a short-barreled, .45 caliber Merwin & Hulbert Army Pocket revolver. Again she did not handle the weapon in the usual feminine fashion, but looked like she was well able to use it.
‘I’m sorry, gentlemen,’ the girl apologized sleepily. ‘You startled me.’
‘If anything, fifty thousand is a little on the low side,’ Barnstaple said, bringing Brady’s and Jeff’s attention back to him while Sybil put away her gun. ‘But I daren’t offer more. It will be worth that sum to know the plates are in the right hands.’
‘We’re no hawgs,’ Jeff grinned. ‘For fifty thousand dollars, we’d go after the counterfeiters, even if it meant losing the jaspers who took our money.’