Sam Burdin’s group quit the disaster canyon by means of a hidden, but easy-access tunnel in the south wall. It brought them out on the far side of the sierras and they made their way down the slope warily in the moonlight that was only now creeping across this face of the range. The peaks and crests threw long, heavy shadows down the slopes and they had to negotiate these carefully, for the ground was, broken and boulder-shot.
One of the men sagged in the saddle, holding his left side, coughing occasionally. Twice he almost fell but men either side of him steadied him and then one of them took the reins from the man’s hand and led his horse.
“Move!” Burdin yelled, looking back towards the dark maw of the tunnel. “Whoever pulled that raid might be lookin’ round and they’ll maybe find that exit!”
“Clay’s hit mighty bad, Sam,” one of the men said. “Bleedin’ like a stuck hog.”
“He better keep up!” Burdin growled, fighting his skittish horse around. None of the horses was saddled, though three had reins and one had a rope hackamore. Burdin’s mount had nothing and he guided the animal with knees and tugs on the mane.
“Who do you think it was, Sam?” a man asked.
“Dukes! Or his men,” Burdin said without hesitation. “Had to be. Couldn’t be anyone else.”
“Sounded like the army to me, with them cannon shell.”
“Hogwash!” Burdin snapped. “They was bombs. I seen one rollin’ along the ground. They set it off with rifle fire.”
“Damn good marksman then, at night!”
“Yeah, a dead shot,” Burdin growled. “I’ll find out who it was. Man who can shoot like that can’t hide forever, not when he’s workin’ for Governor High-and-Mighty Dukes! I’ll find out who it was and that son of a bitch is gonna die slow! But I’ll get Dukes first!”
“Hell, you still after him?” a man asked, surprised. “Damn right I am!” There was a fanatical glint in Burdin’s eyes. 'Texas ain’t never gonna get back its independence while Dukes is governor! Now, move, before we get ourselves nailed!”
The group moved on down the slope, Burdin in the lead. He walked his mount down to a small stream and across it, angling eastwards a mile and then cutting across a curve of loose sand. It was too loose to hold tracks, though the horses stumbled and floundered. Burdin cursed and yelled and kicked his mount across and then, standing on more solid ground, turned to hurry the others along. He saw the wounded man lean forward, then topple sideways.
“Grab Clay!” he yelled, but it was too late. Clay’s body thudded to the sand and his mount shied away.
Burdin leapt off his horse and ran back, pushing aside the man who was about to kneel beside the wounded outlaw. Burdin grabbed Clay’s chin and turned his face upwards so that he could see it in the moonlight. There were deep-etched lines around his mouth. His eyes seemed sunken and lacked luster. There was dried blood on his lips and a few pinkish, fresh bubbles. Burdin looked at the man’s wound and was surprised to see that the whole of his side was drenched with blood from armpit to boot-top. He sat back on his heels, thumbing back his blast-scorched campaign hat.
“He must’ve left a trail a blind man could follow, bleedin’ like that,” he muttered.
“Told you that, Sam,” the other man said. “We should’ve stopped to bandage him up.”
Burdin growled and snapped a cold look at the man. He pulled his six-gun out of the holster and the man’s jaw sagged in shock. Clay looked up silently, his eyes pleading. Burdin’s face was cold as he aimed briefly and dropped hammer, shooting Clay through the head. The gunshot echoed across the sand and Burdin rammed the Colt back into the holster and sprinted for his horse, ignoring the stares of the other mounted men.
“Let’s go!” he said, vaulting onto his mount’s back. “If they’re following, that gunshot must’ve been heard.”
The others hesitated and Burdin wrenched on the mane, holding his horse briefly. “Come on! Quit acting like a lot of old women! You know the rules! Might be the first time we’ve had to enforce ’em, but they are the rules. Now, anyone don’t want to stick with me, can say so right now and clear off, make his own way. But them that’s comin’ had better move pronto!”
He turned the horse again and let out a yell to get it moving, slamming home his heels, driving it full tilt into the shallow stream. Water sprayed out in a silver fan, shot through in brief beauty by the moonlight. When Burdin was across he paused to look back. He smiled crookedly. All three men were coming after him. They knew where their best chances lay. He was a survivor. They knew they had a better chance of making it out of this alive by sticking with him. He had chosen well when he had started the nucleus of his Freedom Army.
And by hell it was by no means defunct now. No raid, no matter how devastating or sudden, could put him down or turn him from what he had sworn to do. And that was to get Texas back her independence.
The blood of his forebears had soaked Texas soil, fighting Santa Anna at the Alamo. He had grown up with men who hated Mexico for its long and callous rule of the land now called Texas; men who would meet at his father’s cabin, drink sourmash whisky and sound off about Texas needing independence. And then, one day, someone did something about it. Sam Houston began to organize the men who were legends in their own time. Big Jim Bowie, Davy Crockett, men whose names and words stirred the hearts of the Americans who had lived in Texas for many years, even though it belonged to Mexico and Spain.
Burdin had never forgotten those men and their beliefs had become his. Texas, the Lone Star State: he had been proud and happy when Texas had gone it alone for so long. Then it had joined the Union, been torn apart by the Civil War and, in Burdin’s opinion, had never been any good since.
The days of independence were the ones he remembered and loved best. He was convinced that the Lone Star State’s secession from the Union was the only way to bring back prosperity. He had seen governors come and go and none of them had really had the good of the State at heart. Lester Dukes was in office at present, but he was just another puppet of Washington, in Sam Burdin’s opinion, doing as he was told when the strings were pulled. And men in far off Washington could not hope to know what Texas really needed.
Sam Burdin was convinced he knew. And he reckoned for a start it needed Dukes dead. Next, it needed himself as a leader. He would take Texas to new heights, make it the best, biggest and strongest land ever, under the Lone Star flag.
~*~
Governor Lester Dukes was having one of his good days, healthwise. It was one of those rare times when he was without the nagging, constant pain of angina pectoris. It made him feel good and he knew the day just had to turn out well.
When he received the coded wire from Yancey and Cato that told of the rout of Burdin’s Freedom Fighters, he knew he was right.
“They’ve done a damn good job, Kate!” Dukes told his daughter enthusiastically as he re-read the wire. “Damn fine work! Getting rid of a fanatic like Burdin is a feather in their caps. I aim to think of some way to reward them for this.”
Kate smiled. “There’s not much that either Yancey or Johnny would want by way of reward, Dad,” she told him. “Now don’t you go overdoing things, just because you’re feeling a mite spry today. You take it easy, enjoy the day to the full, leave the running of the State to others for a while.”
Dukes looked at his daughter with interest. “By Godfrey, Kate, you know, I just might do that!”
Kate blinked in surprise. It would be possibly the hundredth time she had made such a suggestion, but never before had the governor shown any inclination towards accepting her advice. She really couldn’t believe that he intended to do so now, but Dukes stood up and closed the folder on his desk and placed it back in his in tray. He winked at his stunned daughter.
“There. That make you happy? You can pass all that stuff back to my deputies and tell them to share it out between themselves. What they don’t handle today, they can send back in to me tomorrow.” He came around his desk and took Kate’s arm. “But, today, my daughter and I are going for a drive into the country and a quiet picnic lunch out on the banks of the river.”
“But, Dad, I can’t just drop everything like that!” protested Kate, then she saw the expression on Dukes’ face and smiled sheepishly. “You maneuvered me into that position on purpose! All right. Give me half an hour to organize a basket lunch and make a few arrangements with the staff, and we’ll go for that picnic!”
“Suits me fine,” Dukes allowed, leading her towards the door. “Let’s make the most of this day, Kate.”
And they did. Which was just as well, for Dukes’ pain was back, worse than ever, the next morning. It was so bad that he hardly protested when Dr. Boles advised him to spend the day in bed. Kate kept popping in and out during the course of the day to check on her father but he seemed to be sleeping peacefully most of the time.
It was only the following day, after Yancey and Cato arrived back in Austin, that she realized he had been lying there thinking and not sleeping at all.
He was in his office, gray and drawn, but insisting he felt a lot better, when Yancey and Cato were shown in by Kate and made their verbal reports. Dukes was silent most of the time they were speaking, only interrupting to ask for more details on a few specific aspects of the assignment. Kate looked alarmed when Yancey concluded by saying that he thought Burdin may have been one of those to escape. “You’re not sure?” she asked the big Enforcer.
He shrugged, reluctant to talk about it. “It was kind of hard to tell, Kate. Men who’d been caught in the blast ... parts of ’em blown about ...”
She blanched and nodded. “I see,” she said huskily. “How terrible.”
“Terrible but necessary,” Dukes cut in harshly. “Burdin’s a madman. He’d destroy Texas, not just me. I’ve survived other assassins, but Burdin didn’t just want me dead, he wanted to rule Texas himself.” He flicked his eyes to Yancey and Cato. “You think he might’ve made it clear, huh?”
“Five did,” Yancey told him.
“We trailed ’em out through a secret tunnel in the south wall,” Cato added. “It was where they’d brought in the cannon and the Gatling gun, I guess, and their escape route. We found one of the men dead on a stream bank. He’d been busted up around the ribs but someone had held a gun to his head to finish him off. Guess he was slowin’ the others down. It’s the kind of thing Burdin would do. We got no proof, Governor, but I’d say Burdin’s likely with the bunch that got away.”
“You lost their trail?” Dukes asked.
Yancey nodded. “Led onto lava flats. Hard as iron. Not a mark showing. But we’ve circulated his description to Ranger posts and army posts and all local lawmen. If he’s spotted, we’ll hear about it.”
“Hmm. Well, I guess we’ll have to assume Burdin’s still on the loose for now, but with his army routed, it’ll be a long time before he tries anything again. My congratulations to both of you on a job well done.”
Yancey and Cato nodded, accepting the thanks as their due, not expecting, or wanting it to go any further.
“But, I’ve been thinking about you two fellers,” Dukes continued. “And all the assignments you’ve pulled off successfully for me.”
“Our jobs, Governor,” Cato said.
“More than that, John. You’ve always put in a lot of effort. You’re ingenuity often makes the difference between winning and losing.” He regarded both men closely, flicking his gaze from one to the other. “I’ve been thinking that if I had more men like you, the State of Texas might be in better condition.”
Both Yancey and Cato were beginning to feel a little uncomfortable. They shifted uneasily on their chairs.
“What I mean is, there are lots of troubles in our state and I can’t expect you two fellers to handle them all. Sure, we’ve got the Rangers but their function and jurisdiction is a lot more restricted than yours. I’ve had other temporary Enforcers from time to time, but the nucleus of all my troubleshooters has always been you two.”
“What are you getting at, Governor?” Yancey asked, beginning to suspect something now.
“I’m thinking of expanding, making a permanent Enforcer unit of say, six top men to start with, including you two.” He let that sink in and then added, “And, of course, I’d want you fellers to train ’em.”
Cato and Yancey both stiffened and Kate frowned, as surprised as the Enforcers at her father’s suggestion. The governor held up his hand as Cato shook his head and started to speak.
“No, hear me out. I know you two operate more or less as loners, going about things in your own way and in your own good time, and that’ll continue after we get the other fellers trained. No, wait up, Yance, I haven’t finished yet. John, you’re a top gunsmith and your job would be as armorer; taking care of the weapons and ammunition, maybe even designing new arms. I reckon you could handle that, huh?”
“Sure, Governor, that’d be mighty interestin’, but I have to tell you that ...”
“And you, Yancey,” Dukes interrupted, turning to the big Enforcer. “You’re a dead shot. I was very impressed with the way you hit those coffee-can bombs in the dark. A man who can shoot like that ought to be able to pass on some of that skill to others. And there are other things that new men could be trained in too, that you could handle. In fact, I want you to design a whole training course, for the new men. You’ve got a sharp brain, Yancey, and you’ve handled every assignment I’ve given you just the right way. I’d like the new men to have the benefit of your experience and whatever personal touches you can add. If I’m going to use more Enforcers, I want them to be the best there is, and that means they have to measure up mighty close to your standards. So you are the logical men to handle the training period.”
Kate watched the two Enforcers thinking about the governor’s words. Her face betrayed nothing of her own thoughts, but her hands grasped each other tightly in her lap. There was tension there and, later, Yancey realized it had been because she was willing him to agree to her father’s suggestion. After all, such a project would keep him around Austin for quite a long spell.
“When were you planning on starting this training course, Governor?” Yancey asked, quietly.
“Why, just as soon as you figure you can come up with something,” Dukes replied.
Yancey sighed and rubbed at his stubbled jaw. “Well, it’s kind of hit me mighty sudden. I’d have to think about it some.”
“Sure. But the thing is, Yancey, I want this course, and you’re the best men to devise it. Even if you don’t want to oversee the actual training, I’d like it to be you who works out the methods. And chooses the men.”
“Thanks, Governor. By the way, just where are you aiming to get the men?”
“Figured I’d go through the Rangers’ ranks. They’ve some top men there in the undercover field. Their backgrounds ought to put them well on the way to being Enforcers.”
Yancey nodded agreement with that. “What about funding?”
“You tell me what you’ll need. I’ll get the senate to vote it through.”
That was okay by Yancey and all he could do was shrug. “Guess I can give it a try, but it’s not exactly my line.”
Kate smiled broadly and when Dukes saw this he couldn’t help but smile himself. “Three or four months around Austin won’t hurt you, Yancey. You’ve had a heap of long trails and not much of a break since you started working for me.” Before Yancey could say that was the life he preferred, Dukes turned to Cato. “You, Johnny? You’re an ex-gunsmith. Weaponry shouldn’t give you any problems.”
Cato pulled the lobe of his left ear. “No, I guess not,” he said, a little dubiously. “But I wouldn’t want to spend all my days workin’ on guns again, Governor. It’s one reason I took up the Enforcer job with Yance. I like tinkerin’ with guns, but I wouldn’t want to make it my life again.”
“I’ll guarantee it won’t be for any longer than it takes you to build and tune the weapons, John. You don’t have to come up with a lot of new-fangled stuff. Base the armaments on the Colt six-shooter and the Winchester rifle, whatever model you think best. That seems to be the best combination for firepower and reliability. But, if you can come up with something better, like that Manstopper of yours ...”
Cato shook his head swiftly. “No, sir, I reckon I won’t build any more of them. It’s a one-timer. Every Enforcer starts carrying them, they’ll be ear-marked right off. No, best thing, as you say, is to base the armaments on the Winchester and Colt. I’ll work on the ballistics, maybe make some special barrels with rifling to take specially-loaded cartridges and get the best out of the ballistics.”
“Careful, John,” Dukes warned, his agile brain at once seeing a danger here. “I don’t want the men carrying guns that’ll only take special ammunition. They might not always be where they can get more if they need it.”
“I’ll watch that angle. The guns’ll fire standard factory stuff that you can pick up anywhere in the West, but they’ll give better results with the special stuff.” He gave the governor a crooked smile. “Damn! You’ve got me interested already! I’m itchin’ to get into a workshop and start right now.”
Dukes smiled broadly. “Nice to see enthusiasm. Kate, dear, I think this calls for a drink. That Napoleon brandy, please, that the Mexican official sent up to me a few weeks back. And the Havana cigars.”
“Now, Dad, you know what Dr. Boles said about smoking,” Kate warned as she moved to the sideboard.
“To hell with Boles,” growled the governor. “Texas is about to see the start of a new era with the birth of a real Enforcer Unit, and I aim to celebrate it appropriately. You break out those cigars, daughter, or I’ll give Yancey an assignment that’ll take him clear to Canada.”
Kate smiled at her father and then looked sideways at Yancey. He winked and she flushed a little. But Yancey’s mind was already busy, planning the training course for the new Enforcer Unit.