Kate glanced around. "He must have gotten away during the confusion," she said.
"He'll warn Blake we're coming, we'd better get going."
"The only place you're all going is straight to hell!" A voice from behind warned.
They all turned slowly to see this new menace. Pete Tanner had come out of the brush, rifle in hand, the hammer eared back. "I don't like what you did to my pals. You're all going to die! Now!' His finger squeezed the trigger, just as a large shadow from above fell across his face. The rifle boomed and the shot flew skyward as he fell forward from a thudding blow in the middle of his back. The Frontier G-man hanging from the rope dragging beneath the low flying balloon, had lashed out with both feet swinging forward and kicking the outlaws square between the shoulder blades.
Tanner rolled over onto his back, trying to regain his senses. His pistol came up automatically, but Clayton holding one handed to the end of the rope, drew his pistol and fired. Tanner fell back, eyes glazing over in death.
Rod Blake sat astride his horse in Hank Beldon's yard, a self satisfied smile on his face as he watched four of his men brutally beat Hank and Steve Beldon until they no longer had strength to fight back. Both Beldons' hands were now tied behind them and they were now being dragged roughly, the toes of their boots leaving tracks in the dirt, across the yard to a spreading oak tree. Two horses were standing idly beneath a low hanging branch. Two ropes with nooses dangled menacingly from above.
Blake's sadistic enjoyment was suddenly interrupted as a murmur went up from the crowd behind him and he heard the pounding of a horse's hoofs approaching fast. The ranchers spread apart to let the oncoming rider through. It was Burl Ryker.
His face was full of excitement as he pulled up next to Blake. "Boss!" his voice was loud with excitement.
"Shut up you fool!" Blake hissed lowly, while grabbing Ryker's left arm. 'Those clods will hear you. You're supposed to be working for Beldon, not me. Do you want to give it all away? Make out you're protesting."
"But..but boss..." He started to blurt. Blake slapped him with his quirt and said loud enough for the others to hear. "You can't stop us! We're going to give them what they deserve."
"But..but...."
"Shut up! I tell you."
"Yes. I suggest you shut up Mr. Ryker," Kate Matson said as she guided her horse around the throng of ranchers, Ted Matson was following close behind her, his pistol in his hand aimed at Blake's gunnies.
"Let the Beldons go, you hellions, or I'll blast you where you stand," Ted ordered. The outlaws released their holds on the prisoners and flung their arms into the air. Hank and Steve sank weakly to the ground and lay still.
"Mister Blake doesn't want honest folk to know what's been going on," Kate spoke loudly and flatly so the ranchers could hear her clearly. "Listen up everybody," she said. "Your esteemed leader here has been behind all the rustling in this valley. He used Hank Beldon's bitterness toward me. Yes, I do mean me, but that's another story. He used that bitterness to set up Hank as the bad guy around here. And yes, Hank did do a lot of bad things, but Blake set him up to take the blame for everything. Ryker, here, really works for Blake."
"How dare you ride in here and accuse me of anything, Mrs. Matson," Blake retorted indignantly. Then to the ranchers, "Don't listen to this blubbering old woman. Let's get on with what we're doing here."
"Sure," Kate said, "You're here to kill the Beldons so you can get their land."
"You're crazy!" Blake shouted. "Hank Beldon murdered Sheriff Hackett and he has to pay for it."
"Listen, everyone," Kate spoke to the ranchers, instead of replying to Blake. "The man responsible for Sheriff Hackett's death is Rod Blake. He killed him to blame it on Hank." A murmur went up through the crowd. "He also brought in a phony engineer, Matt McCall for a phony irrigation project just to bilk you out of more money. His plan was to rob the bank after there enough money had been raised."
All eyes were now on Blake. He shifted nervously in the saddle.
"Are you all going to listen to a crazy old woman shouting allegations? She's made this all up in her feeble old brain. She has no proof to show you. Just ask her! Where's your proof?" How could she know all this? He thought to himself. There was no way. Only if.... But, no that couldn't be Clayton and the others were all dead.
"We can give you that proof," Jack Clayton said as he, Andy and Marci threaded their mounts though the crowd to halt in front of Blake.
"No! It can't be!" He exclaimed. "You're dead, we left you..." Then realizing what he was revealing, he clamped his mouth shut and grimaced.
"You thought you left us dead," Jack finished for him. Blake just glared angrily.
"Listen up, everyone," Jack said to the ranchers. "I want you all to know that I'm with the United States Government." Once again voices stirred though out the group. "Blake thought I was here to close down the dam. He figured, if he killed me on Beldon's land he could blame the old man. When the plan failed and Sheriff Hackett showed up. The plan was changed to shoot the sheriff and still let Beldon take the blame." The crowd roared with anger.
Blake knowing that the ranchers were now turning on him, his face ashen with fear blurted. "I didn't kill Hackett! You got to believe me!" He pointed an accusing finger at Ryker. "He did it! Ryker killed Hackett. I had nothing to do with it. He did it on his own. You can't blame me for what he did."
Ryker's face flushed with anger. He pulled his mount closer to Rod Blake and pulled his pistol, "You can't make me take the blame alone," he shouted, bringing the shooter up. It all happened fast. There was little time for anyone to react. In a desperate lunge, Clayton shoved his horse against Ryker's reaching for the man's gun hand, but too late; the shooter was already spatting flame and Blake doubled over and fell from the saddle as his horse reared and stumbled, hoofs pounding Blake's body. If the bullet had not finished him the horse surely did.
Clayton's hand gripped Ryker's wrist in a steely vice like grip. The two horses reared on hind legs in frightened confusion. Jack wrenched at the wrist, Ryker struggling to bring the weapon to bear and shoot his assailant. The pistol went off, the shot flying over the heads of the ranchers. They quickly dispersed, moving back out of the line of fire, but the pistol had already fallen from Ryker's hand and landed on the ground beneath the horses shuffling feet.
Clayton and Ryker fell sideways from the saddles, landing with a thud on the sod. Horses' hooves striking all around them until they rolled clear and the horses skittered away.
Ryker came up fast rolling on top of the G-man. Clayton raised his head and Ryker dealt him a round house blow, sending Clayton flat on his back. With a crazed glaze in his eyes, Burl Ryker pushed himself to his feet and started to run. Clayton had recovered almost immediately, rolled over and grabbed Ryker's legs before he had gone more than a step. Ryker fell forward, kicked backward at the hands holding him. Clayton let go and pushed himself to his feet. Ryker had resumed his flight. Jack Clayton sprinted after him and when he was in a body length of him, he dived forward, his feet leaving the ground for a split second and landed just behind Ryker, clutching the back of his shirt collar and throwing the running man off his feet to land heavily on the ground.
Before Ryker could recover, Clayton had pulled the man, using his left hand to clutch the front of the outlaw's shirt, to his feet. He brought his right arm all the way back and let it swing in a full arc, his clenched fist striking Ryker squarely in the jaw. The outlaw's face whipped to the left, his jaw now slack, blood oozing from the corners of his mouth, eyes glazed over. Clayton held him up from falling, then pulled the man closer, his right fist still balled, to drive another blow. The empty glaze in Ryker's eyes, brought Clayton up short. He's had enough, he thought. He released his grip on Ryker's shirt and let the big outlaw slump to an inert hump on the grass.
****
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
New Beginnings
An hour later in the shade of the big oak tree Hank and Steve Beldon sat on the
grass with their backs against the tree trunk Kate Matson, on her knees with a pan of water beside her was just finishing up with administering to the cuts and bruises both men had suffered at the hands of Beldon's men. Jack Clayton and Ted and Marci Matson stood nearby.
"I guess, I've been an old fool, all these years, Kate." The remorse in Hank Beldon's voice was almost self pity. "I'm sorry about Will. When my wife died and left me all alone, I envied him because he still had you. You know I always wanted you."
"Why didn't you speak up, Hank," Kate said. "I waited as long as I could. I was expecting Ted and when Will asked me to marry him, it was a solution to an embarrassing situation." She glanced at Ted. He had a very sobering expression on his face, leaving no trace of cockiness.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Hank questioned.
"I didn't want to force you," Kate said.
"You wouldn't have been forcing me. I was just too backward to ask you in the first place. Then you accepted Will's proposal and well..."
"Never mind, Hank," Kate said dabbing at a blood spot just above his left brow. "That's all water under the bridge. Or should I say over the dam?"
"I'm taking the dam down, Kate. It's all been foolishness and I owe it to my neighbors. I just hope that in time they can learn to forgive me just a little."
"I'm sure they will, Hank," Kate smiled. All went silent for a few moments.
Jack finally broke the silence and changed the subject as he looked around and glanced off down the road. "I hate to mention this," he said. "But has anyone see Andy Fane, lately?"
Marci lowered her lashes, then looked up at him. Jack could see the faint sparkle of a tear starting in her eye. She brushed at it with a thumb. "I suppose he went back for the money after all," she said and looked away.
Steve Beldon seeing the unhappiness in her face pushed himself to his feet and drew near. He took her hand and held it tightly. "I know I've disappointed you in the past, but I'll always put you first from now on. I promise."
She looked up into his face, saw the genuineness of his plea. Then her face brightened and Steve began to smile. "I believe you, Steve. I really do." Steve's smile died suddenly when she said, "But, maybe, it's too late." She was looking over his shoulder still smiling. Then, she stepped around him, quickening her step as she rushed to meet Andy Fane coming around the side of the ranch house.
Jack Clayton sat back comfortably in the plush leather seat of the train's club car. He had never traveled in such style before. Times were changing and Jack Clayton was changing with them. He no longer wore the same broad cloth black suit that had come to be his trademark. He now sported a new gray suit and brocaded shirt and vest. An expensive new broad brimmed white beaver hat lay on the empty seat next to him. He stared out the window and thought about his last adventure. He thought about the Beldons and the Matsons and of Andy Fane.
When he had left Promise three weeks ago, Hank Beldon had torn down the dam and the ranchers had water once again. Peace had come to the valley. The ranchers' money had been returned to them. Kate and Hank were becoming an item once again as was Marci and Andy Fane. Andy was turning over a new leaf and staying on to be the town's new sheriff. He had never really been an outlaw in the first place. He had to face it. It just wasn't a part of his nature after all or maybe he just wasn't good at it. As sheriff, Andy Fane had taken Blackie Darrow's body in to the authorities, returning the bank money to Sand Flats. As for Ted Matson, Andy had simply let him slide through the cracks as far as the law was concerned, as long as Ted promised to stay out of trouble. This made Marci even happier with Andy. As for Steve Beldon, he still had hopes of winning Marci back. The young man still had a lot to learn.
Now, as for Abner Blodgett, that was another story. Jack recalled his recent visit with John Randolph, District Director of the Department of Justice in his secret headquarters office outside Saint Joseph, Missouri.
"You were lucky, this time, Jack," Randolph said from behind his ornate mahogany table that he used as a desk in his big office. He was a big man with brown hair, graying at the temples.
"Yes, I was," Jack agreed. "I had no clue as to the counterfeiting ring in the southwest. It was just chance that I ended up in Promise and found Abner Blodgett up to his ears in distributing the phony bills from his bank."
"Well, thanks to the little man's squeamishness, he gave us the names of enough members of the ring to break them up for good." Randolph smiled. "We promised him a deal, but he'll never see light outside of prison walls."
"He was just a frightened, stupid man," Jack mused.
"You know, Jack," John Randolph said, changing the topic and leaning forward across the table top to look Clayton straight in the face. "Sometimes, I don't think you tell me everything that happens during these missions I send you on."
"Oh," Jack shifted uneasily in his chair, thinking about Andy Fane and Ted Matson. "Like what?"
Randolph sat back and sighed, "Oh, I don't know, exactly. Just something..." Then he straightened and said, "Jack, that's the last assignment, I sending you out on."
Jack stared straight ahead, "You mean, I'm fired?"
Randolph shook his head and handed Clayton a letter. "No. You're getting another job. Read this. It explains everything."
Jack glanced at it and saw the letterhead read 'Office of the President of the United States.'
"As you know, Jack, the last election was too close to call. The results have been tied up in discussion for several months. Congress has created an electoral college and the vote has finally been settled. Rutherford B. Hayes is now the President of the United States." A pause, then he added, "I understand you know the president quite well." He sat back and smiled, a knowing look on his face.
Jack read the letter through and looked up at Randolph. "This says..." he started and Randolph finished it for him.
"The president is requesting you to be his own personal troubleshooter. You might say, sort of a President's Man, if you will."
The countryside rushed past as Clayton gazed out the window of the train, its beauty brought him out of his reverie and back to the present and the reality of what was now happening. For he was now enroute to Washington, DC. to meet with the President and his First Lady. Then a thought came to him and he grinned wryly to himself. The First Lady, he thought. That's what they call her. He supposed now that he was the President's Man that would make him The First Gun.
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