Bannerman the Enforcer 40 by Kirk Hamilton

Author:Kirk Hamilton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: rape, revenge, cowboys, gunfighters, western fiction, piccadilly publishing, jt edson, westerns ebooks, the wiled west
Publisher: Piccadilly

The news spread fast up and down the cattle trails: Thunderhead McCain was dead.

He was a real trail identity and had been driving beeves up and down the eastern and western cattle trails for twenty years. He had helped open up the Chisum Trail with Big Jim Chisum himself and for many years had carried two stone Apache arrowheads in his leg and shoulder. He had the reputation of being tough but fair. And he didn’t get the name Thunderhead because of a sweet disposition.

But McCain had been well-liked by most of the men who had worked for him and by all the cattle agents and ranchers he dealt with. They knew he gave everyone a fair shake.

And the hatred for the man who had gunned him down built up into something tangible when the news of the trail man’s death got out. The name ‘Brant’ was a curse on men’s lips and some old-timers, pards of McCain’s or men who had ridden many seasons with him, actually saddled-up and went looking for the killer. But they never located him.

The kid showed up in Wichita Falls south of the Red River, surprising everyone, for when they heard that Brant had taken him along as hostage, no one figured to see him alive again.

“I snuck away when he sent me for more firewood one night,” the kid told his questioners. “We was camped way out on some high plains he called Medicine Hat. He’d talked about Wichita Falls and how he used to have a gal here named Carrie Chess but who’d gone down to Mexico now. He laughed when he said it, like it was some sort of private joke, but he didn’t explain it. Anyways, all I was interested in was the fact that Wichita Falls was thirty miles due West from where we was. He’d gotten a jug of redeye from a lone rancher we’d seen earlier that day an’ he was suckin’ away at it when he cuffed me an’ told me to go get some more wood to throw on the fire. It was mighty cold up on them high plains.

“Well, sir, I couldn’t believe my ears. For once he’d taken off the rope that he usually tied me with at night. Guess it was the whisky made him careless. Anyways, reckon he didn’t figure I’d cut out from a nice warm bedroll an’ fire, specially on foot. But that’s what I done. Soon’s I was out of sight of the camp, I ran. I’d taken note of where the sun went down an’ I just headed straight for there. I heard him cussin’ me an’ he took a couple shots but I don’t think he really seen me in the dark. That was nigh on three days ago.”

The kid’s shoes were worn through and his face was peeling with sunburn, his lips cracked and swollen, his belly and eyes sunken. But he was alive and surprisingly fit and he gave folk the first positive news

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