Cato was too impatient to wait any longer. He felt okay as long as he moved gently and protected his side. Hanging around the cabin day after day wasn’t to his liking. He felt like a sitting duck. There had been no more prowlers but that didn’t mean that they weren’t watching the cabin. He figured to play it another way, use shock tactics.
He was through arguing with Marnie, who had tried to dissuade him every time he suggested venturing out of the cabin. She warned him that the wound might open up again and then he would be in real trouble. Cato had his own ideas about how fit he was. He had asked her to see Sanders and ask about the ‘offer’ for the cabin. Naturally, the man had claimed his client had changed his mind.
So Cato stayed in bed as usual until Marnie went off to work, and then he got up and dressed himself slowly. He wasn’t as steady on his feet as he would have liked but nothing could be done about that. As an afterthought, he took off his shirt again and wrapped a torn-up sheet around his midriff, padding the area over his wound. He could just manage to struggle into his shirt again. Then he checked the Manstopper’s loads and strapped on his gunrig, jammed his new hat onto his head and went out the front door.
He looked around furtively, hoping to spot anyone watching the house and he was halfway down the hill to the main part of town when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye, down a lane that ran off the street where he was walking. On impulse Cato swung down that lane, forcing his legs to carry him forward when all he really wanted to do was sit down or crawl back into bed. But he didn’t aim to let anyone know just how badly he was hit.
The man in the lane had his jaw wired-up and was the redhead Cato had slugged with the rifle butt out in the hills. When he saw Cato coming down the lane, he stood up from behind the rain-barrel where he had been crouching, looked disconcerted and then turned to run.
“Hold it, you sidewinder!” Cato yelled and he wasn’t prepared for the man's actions then, even though he had dropped a hand threateningly to the butt of the Manstopper.
The redhead abruptly stopped and spun back, drawing his gun as he did so, using his body to screen the movement of his right hand. Cato dragged at the heavy Manstopper but he was weakened and his reactions were slower than he had reckoned on. The redhead’s gun was clear of leather and firing across his body before the Manstopper was properly in Cato’s hand. The bullet whipped past Cato’s head and he flinched instinctively, stepping to the left. His leg folded under him and likely saved his life as the redhead’s next shot tore past within inches of his moving body. Cato went down on one knee and by that time he had the Manstopper snapping up into line and dropped hammer as the redhead triggered a third time.
Cato’s lead spanged off an iron hoop on the rain-barrel and he didn’t hear where the redhead’s slug went. He fired again and this time water spurted out of a hole in the barrel. The redhead turned and ran, firing wildly under one arm. Cato knew he couldn’t hope to catch the man but he was damned if he was going to let him escape this time. Swiftly, he snapped the hammer toggle to ‘shot barrel’, gripped the big gun butt with both hands and laid the foresight squarely in the middle of the fleeing man’s back. He dropped aim, the muzzle passing down the man’s spine, over his buttocks to his thighs, calves, boots and then the ground a foot behind his pounding feet. Cato figured that ought to allow for the jump when the heavy twelve-gauge shell exploded and delivered its charge of buckshot.
As the redhead skidded into a corner, hand going out to grab at the edge of a building to help him around, Cato fired and, at that precise moment, the redhead slipped and started to fall. But his body never touched the ground on that spot. The charge of buckshot took him squarely and lifted, him and spun him away as if he had been shot out of a catapult. He threshed and rolled and came to a halt half on one side, facing Cato as the Enforcer got to his feet and staggered forward. The man’s chest was all blood and shredded rags and his face contorted with pain. As Cato came stumbling closer, the redhead’s eyes opened wide and his taped-up jaw dripped blood as he coughed and fell back. He was dead when Cato reached him …
It seemed that half the town came crowding into that narrow lane and Marnie Hendry came pushing through, white-faced, looking anxiously at Cato where he leaned heavily against the building wall. He grinned briefly at her and looked past her as he saw Sanders, the land agent, thrusting through the crowd, looking down at the dead redhead. His face was ashen as he lifted his eyes to Cato. The Enforcer looked away, spoke to Marnie and the others.
“Feller seemed to be followin’ me,” Cato said, not feeling any too spry. “I turned into the lane and called out to him to ask him what he wanted and he started shootin’ ... I aimed at his legs but he fell just as I fired and stopped a full charge of buckshot in the chest.”
“What kind of gun is that?” someone asked, pointing to the Manstopper.
“What kind of man carries a queer gun like that?” said another, and Cato was pretty sure it was Sanders who said that but the man stared at him with blank, grayish face when he looked up.
“The kind of man who likes to protect himself from drygulchin’ sidewinders like that redhead,” Cato replied slowly. “I was goin’ downtown for a spell, but I reckon I’ll head back for some rest now ... Marnie?”
She nodded, took his arm and led him away through the muttering, staring crowd. Sanders stared worriedly after them.
“What on earth did you think you were doing?” the girl whispered, as they made their way back up the hill.
“Figured to scare the hell out of Sanders and make him run,” Cato said easily. “Worked out better than I figgered ... I hadn’t reckoned on Red tryin’ to gun me down. Mebbe that’ll put a burr under Sanders’ saddle. I’ll give him till noon.”
“Noon?”
“Yeah. If he ain’t run by then, I’ll hurry him along.”
She frowned. “Where do you think he’ll run to?”
“His boss ... For instructions. I reckon I’ve kind of complicated things for ’em now.”
“You’re—you’re not thinking of following him, in your condition?”
“I am.”
“You’re crazy! You’ll open that wound again and it’ll start bleeding and you won’t be able to stop it!”
Cato slid his arm about her waist and squeezed. “Gimme an excuse to come back and see my favorite nurse, won’t it?”
“For heaven’s sake, John! Talk sense!”
As they reached the gate of the cabin’s yard, he turned and looked at her soberly. “You better get back to your sawbones, Marnie. I can manage from here on in, thanks.”
He winked and moved slowly and a little unsteadily up the path towards the cabin. She looked after him, started to speak but changed her mind. She knew it wouldn’t do any good, and realized that already she was beginning to understand him.
Which didn’t necessarily mean that she had to like it. Or even accept it, if it came to that. Slowly, thoughtfully, she turned back down the hill, smoothing the starched white apron of her nurse’s uniform.
High noon rolled by and as far as Cato could tell, Sanders hadn’t left town. He had kept watch openly from the porch of the cabin and he figured that maybe this was the very reason why Sanders hadn’t made his run. He could be thinking that Cato would try to prevent him leaving. Cato stood up, tossing away his cigarette and hitched at his gunbelt, wincing at the pain from his wound.
It was time he put Sanders right and let him know that he was free to leave town whenever he wanted to.
Cato started walking slowly down the hill towards town and when he passed the doctor’s house he saw Marnie’s anxious face appear at the office window. He waved briefly and felt her eyes on his back all the way along the street until he turned into Sanders’ Land Agency.
The man at the desk behind the low railing tried to stop Cato as he pushed through the gate.
“You can’t come in here, feller!”
Cato stopped, looked the man squarely in the eye and then stepped forward. The man swallowed and moved aside hurriedly. He had made his try: he wasn’t being paid enough to get his head cracked open or worse. Muttering, he returned to his ledgers. Cato smiled faintly as he went to the paneled door marked ‘Private—L. Sanders, Accredited Land Agent.’
He shoved the door open roughly, letting it slam back into a wooden filing cabinet. Sanders straightened from where he had been kneeling in front of the safe and, pale-faced, he slammed the heavy iron door closed, pressing back against the safe as he stared at Cato. The Enforcer nodded civilly, turned and closed the door, then leaned against it and stared at Sanders.
The land agent met his gaze and held it, started to open his mouth to protest, then changed his mind and said nothing. But it wasn’t long before he began to fidget and lifted a hand to touch his thin mustache, then froze when Cato’s right hand dropped to his gun butt with blurring speed. He went white. “No, wait …!”
He held out both hands from his sides to show he had no hostile intentions but Cato kept his hand where it was. He hoped there wasn’t too much sweat standing out on his face: he felt plumb worn out after that walk down the hill and he hoped Sanders wasn’t going to make him get too tough. If the agent only knew it, Cato would gladly go back to bed at the first chance
“What do you want?” Sanders breathed. “I didn’t set that redhead on you! It was his idea ... I guess.”
“I believe that,” Cato said quietly.
“I—I didn’t even know him. Never seen him before ... What? You believe me?” Sanders sounded as if he couldn’t credit that he had heard correctly.
“Sure. About the redhead. Don’t mean I’ll believe everythin’ you tell me, though.”
Sanders swallowed and licked his lips. “What—what is it you want from me? I don’t know you.”
“Now, there you go ... Lyin’ to me.” Cato lifted a placatory hand as the man made to protest. “Just hush up a minute. Don’t waste my time, Sanders. You were told to find out if I was holed-up with the Hendry gal, you and Red. I gave him that busted jaw and you knew it. You’re workin’ for someone and I want to know who it is.”
Sanders straightened, shaking his head, tugging down the front of his coat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Cato. I work for myself.”
“See? You do know who I am. I never told you my name, but you know what it is.” He clucked his tongue as the man looked more worried than ever. “Just don’t waste my time like I told you, Sanders. You been offered the fake survey maps yet?” Sanders stared, his eyes widening.
“Well, you needn’t answer because it don’t much matter. They’re fakes, like I said. You would’ve paid good money for ’em, I guess, and you’ll be buyin’ up all that land they got marked as gonna be wanted in the future by the railroad. But it’s wrong, Sanders, all wrong. Worthless stuff. The hombres who sold you the maps are the ones buyin’ up the real land along the new railroad route. You’re just a diversion for ’em, and a little extra pocket money. You’re bein’ cheated, too, just like you’re cheatin’ the poor suckers you buy the land cheap from. But you’re gonna be the one left holdin’ the land that no one wants, Sanders. How do you like that?”
Sanders swallowed, staring at Cato, forehead creased in a deep frown.
“You’re lying …” He stopped, cleared his throat. “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Cato smiled crookedly. “Your worry, mister ... But you’ve got till sundown to tell me who sold you the maps and who else is involved.” He straightened suddenly and drove his boot through the side of the flimsy filing cabinet. Sanders jumped in fright as the wood splintered. Cato walked across the room and Sanders pressed back against the safe. The Enforcer swept the china oil lamp off the desk, scattered papers around and then pulled out a vesta and snapped it into flame on his thumb.
Sanders’ eyes really bugged this time as he stared at the flame and then lowered his gaze to the papers soaking up the oil from the smashed lamp. Cato bared his teeth in a mirthless grin and dropped the match. The oil and papers flared instantly and Sanders gave a strangled cry, leapt forward and began stamping on the spreading flames. Cato headed for the door as Sanders frantically tore off his jacket and threw it over the flames, stomping on it wildly.
“Sundown,” Cato said again as he went out, closed the door behind him and looked at the white-faced clerk. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder towards the closed office door. “Better take your boss a glass of water. He’s burnin’.” Cato moved casually out into the street.
~*~
Kate Dukes’ face was grim as she hurried down the antiseptic-smelling corridor and turned into the office being used by Dr. Sussex and Dr. Boles. Both men looked up as she walked purposefully towards them.
“Tell me, someone, please! Is Yancey going to be all right or not?” he demanded.
Boles stood up and came towards her, hand out to take her arm and lead her towards a chair but she shook free of his grip.
“Now, just calm down, Kate,” he said gently. “We can only wait now …”
“I don’t want to calm down!” she said, hands clenched at her sides. “I just want a straight answer to my question!”
Boles glanced towards Sussex and the big man stood up, towering above the girl and looking down at her steadily.
“Suppose I said, ‘no, the operation has not been a success’ … Would that make you feel any better?”
Kate paled and put out a hand swiftly to steady herself against the desk. “Is—is that true?”
“We don’t know yet,” Sussex told her. “We’re still waiting and we won’t know until he regains consciousness fully.”
“Fully? Then he’s started to come around?”
Boles frowned at Sussex. “It’s hard to say, Kate, dear. He’s ... well, he’s tossing around a lot and he’s—he’s ...”
“Talking a lot of gibberish,” Sussex finished for him. He added swiftly when he saw Kate’s face, “Now that doesn’t necessarily mean that the operation hasn’t been a success. He’s not yet fully conscious. It usually takes a day or two for the patient to get back his senses properly. You’ll just have to learn to be patient, my dear.”
Kate looked at him, hard-eyed. “I think I’ll probably kill you if you’ve—you’ve harmed Yancey, Dr. Sussex,” she said quite calmly and because the threat was delivered in such a matter of fact tone, Sussex gave a start and, for an instant, there was apprehension on his face.
Then the girl turned and hurried out of the room. Boles turned to his colleague.
“My God, she could well mean it! Kate Dukes doesn’t make idle threats, Sussex!”
“Something to think about,” the big surgeon said gruffly as he sat down again.
“Just what are Yancey’s chances at this stage?” Boles asked.
Sussex took a long time answering. Finally he sighed and hunched his heavy shoulders in a shrug.
“To be honest, Boles, I have no idea ... You see, I’ve never had a patient take quite so long to come round. I don’t know if it’s a good sign or bad.”
“Then we’re just as much in the dark as the girl or the governor!” Boles breathed.
“I’m afraid so,” Sussex said gruffly. “Want a hand of blackjack while we’re waiting?”
He took a deck of cards out of the desk drawer and began shuffling idly.
~*~
By sundown, Sanders had quit Concho, on the run as Cato had hoped he would be. Even though the Enforcer had watched for him to leave, the man had managed to give him the slip and had left town unobserved. The clerk in the land agency refused to admit that he knew just when Sanders had gone, but he at least admitted that the man had run out. The safe stood open, the cashbox was empty. Sanders had paid off the clerk and likely given him a few extra dollars to keep his mouth shut.
“There’s only one thing I want from you, mister,” Cato told the clerk. “Where was he headed?”
The clerk made a helpless gesture, but there was fear in his eyes. Cato moved close and looked him squarely in the face.
“A friend of Sanders head-shot a pard of mine,” Cato said slowly. “Because of that he lost his memory and they had to operate. There’s a chance he could end up like a village idiot ... Now I like that pard of mine and I don’t give a damn about you, mister. I want to get to the man behind Sanders and if I have to climb over a few more bodies to do it, I will ... Startin’ with yours!”
The Manstopper suddenly appeared in Cato’s hand, the muzzle pressing up against the jaw of the startled clerk. He sucked in a sharp breath and began to shake. Cato increased the pressure with the gun and forced the man to take a step backwards. And another, and another, until the man was brought up short by the office wall. He lifted to his toes, staring down wild-eyed at the rock-faced Enforcer. When Cato notched the hammer back the clerk made a strangled sound deep in his throat.
“I didn’t hear you!” Cato gritted and the clerk swallowed, cleared his throat.
“I—I swear I don’t know for sure ... Gospel! But—well, he got a lot of mail from Big Springs. Thick envelopes that he told me never to open. He always burned the envelopes himself afterwards.”
Cato frowned. “Sounds as if somethin’ was on them that could be traced. They have a return address?”
The clerk shook his head, still backing away from the gun which Cato still held casually against his chin. “No, but—hold on! There was somethin’ ... A triangle printed on one corner. A triangle with a P or an R in it, I guess …”
“A ranch?”
“Could be ... I always figured it was some sort of mail mark. It was stamped on in ink.”
Cato nodded and suddenly released the pressure he had on the Manstopper. When he took the muzzle away, there was a round ring pressed deep into the clerk’s flesh under his chin. The edges were almost as white as the rest of his face.
The Enforcer put the gun back in its holster and the clerk slowly eased down off his tip-toes and stood flat-footed again. But he didn’t relax as he looked at Cato. “It’s all I can tell you, honest.”
“No,” Cato said flatly. “You can tell me how long it is since he slipped out.”
“Just after you left the office,” the man said abruptly. “He—he figured you wouldn’t reckon on him going so soon …”
“Damn it, I didn’t either! Figured him for a man who’d want to get his affairs in order first ...”
The clerk gave a faint, tentative smile. There was a hint of pleasure in it as he spoke. “He was already doing that before you showed up. He started as soon as the redheaded man was gunned down by you.”
Cato sighed. “Well, that’s the way it goes, I guess.” He gave the clerk a hard-eyed look that had the man looking anxious again. “By horse?”
“Huh?”
“He travellin’ by horse? Buckboard? Or what?” Cato asked impatiently.
“On a horse. A fine mount, too. Best piece of horseflesh in the county ... You’ll have a time catchin’ up with him.” There was satisfaction in the man’s voice and Cato let him have this small triumph, nodded curtly and heeled sharply, walking out of the land office and hurrying back to Marnie Hendry’s cabin on the hill.
He expected to get an argument from her and he wasn’t disappointed. As soon as she learned he was thinking of riding out she protested but he stepped in close and pressed a finger against her lips.
“I know all the arguments, and, yeah, I’m likely bein’ stupid ridin’ so soon and it’ll likely open my wound up and set it bleedin’ again ... I know all that, Marnie, and it don’t matter. It can’t matter. It’s my job. I set that rabbit to runnin’ and now I’ve got to trail him ... With any luck, he’ll lead me right to the man behind the whole deal.”
There was a moistness in her eyes and a catch in her voice. “And you’ll go after them and kill them ... or get yourself killed trying.”
Cato shrugged; there wasn’t anything he could say that would be comforting.
Marnie clung to him, even now taking care not to hurt his wounded side. “John ... You—you mean something to me. Isn’t, there any way I can keep you here?”
“You know there’s not, Marnie,” he said quietly. “Not that I don't want to stay, but ….” He let it trail off and shrugged.
“But you’re duty-bound!” she finished for him, a trifle bitterly. “And your friend has been hurt and you want to avenge him ...”
“That’s the way I am.”
She looked at him for a long minute and then slowly nodded. “Yes. That’s the way you are! A fool!”
She turned away swiftly and hurried from the room with her handkerchief at her eyes. The door of the bedroom slammed hard enough to shake a picture hanging on the wall. Cato sighed again and continued stuffing food into his warbag. When he was ready to leave, he knocked gently on the bedroom door.
“Marnie? I’m goin’ now …” He waited but there was no reply. Nothing at all. “Well ... Maybe I’ll get back this way some day. I sure hope so ... You mean somethin’ to me, too. A whole lot.”
Still there was no reply and Cato sighed, said a quiet ‘adios’ to the door and then shouldered his warbag and went out into the dusk.