Chapter Forty-Three
It was just about at twilight that Mareck and his men--and the Marshal--reached the perfect 'meeting' place...a slight bend in the tracks, where a little tree-covered rise would block the engineer's view of the railroad bed until it was too late to stop the train.
The prisoner was pulled from his horse and then pushed and prodded, and--in the end--half carried over to the blind curve. They stood Crown up in the very center of the tracks and then kept him there with their little 'ropes around his neck' arrangement.
"HURRY!" Roger Mareck urged, "It's due any minute!" he added rather excitedly.
After about twenty minutes--of just standing there--the whoozie Marshal was growing tired of shifting his weight from one of his unsteady legs to the other. "I hate ta say this, Mareck," the lawman lied, "but if that train a' yores...don' come along pretty quick...I might have ta disappoint you...an' die a' boredom before it gets here..."
Roger Mareck's henchmen were amused to no end, and the three had themselves a good laugh.
Their boss was furious! "I know what you're up to Crown! You're trying to make me mad again! So mad that I'll kill you before it gets here! Well, it's not going to work!"
"If you say so, Mareck..." the Marshal wearily acknowledged. "In the meantime, do you mind if I set a spell? My legs are gettin' rea-eal ti-ired..."
Mareck's men snickered again.
Their enraged employer snarled, "You just stand right there where you are, Marshal! In just a little while, you won't have to worry about your legs anymore!"
"If you say so, Mareck..." the lawman again acknowledged, sounding even wearier. He wa-as!
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After over half an hour had elapsed--and the train still hadn't come--Mareck sent one of his men back to Cimarron to see what was holding things up.
"The train's not just late!" Luther Nyman annoyedly announced when he trotted up awhile later, "It ain't coming tonight at all...PERIOD!"
Roger Mareck's bodyguards had themselves another good bellylaugh.
Their already angry boss looked even more livid. "You knew!" he screamed and went stomping up to where their 'train bait' stood, swaying. "You knew all along that it wasn't coming, didn't you?! DIDN'T YOU?!" he repeated, giving one of their prisoner's neck ties a savage jerk.
Crown cleared his crushed throat and forced a weak reply, "Now that you mention it...when I was over at the depot the other day...makin' arrangements for yore departure...Carl did say somethin' about a wash-out...between here an' Gault's Spring...Seems a couple a' sections a' track...needed ta be completely replaced...said he reckoned it'd take 'em a few days..."
"You seem to think this is all just some big joke!" Mareck marveled and slugged the Marshal in his sore ribs again.
As their prisoner doubled-up and dropped to his knees, the creeps holding the coils of rope--reluctantly--cut him some slack.
"No-o," Crown corrected, when he could speak again, "...no-o, this is all deadly serious! I think that YOU...are jes' some...big joke!"
Mareck's men glanced at one another, looking absolutely astounded!
Their boss was even more astounded and, apparently, too stunned to react.
"Because," Crown quickly continued, "without yore money, you wouldn' have these men...an' without these men...you'd be a BIG nothin'! Why, you'd be so sma-all...you'd be practic'ly...non-existent!" Then, to Mareck's three highly paid henchmen he said, "Yore boss really is...broke! Goldman-Hunt-Reimer an' Associates�have backed off...an' left him...holdin' the bag! An empty bag...at that!" he added, turning back to his arch nemesis.
"SHUT UP!" Mareck shouted and finally reacted by pistol-whipping their mouthy prisoner into unconsciousness.
The rope holders dropped their coils completely as the prisoner pitched forwards and collapsed in a motionless heap on the tracks.
"Put him on his horse!" their employer angrily ordered, "There'll be another train along, out of Hardesty, in the morning!"
"Yeah!" Denny declared, "And it's gonna be loaded with FEDERAL LAW!"
"That deputy was bluffing!" Mareck shouted and then angrily passed along a little reminder, "He also said that Crown was DEAD!"
"Well," Mister Nyman joined in, "WE ain't waiting around to find out!"
"I give the 'orders' around here!" Mareck reminded them further.
"Not anymore you don't!" Gordy calmly corrected. "WE QUIT!"
"I'll double--TRIPLE your salaries!" Mareck tempted his already highly paid henchmen, "I've got money! LOT'S of money! In the banks, back East!"
"What good's your money gonna do us," Denny wondered, "if we're all rotting in some FEDERAL PRISON somewhere?"
The arrogant little man failed to answer.
So the three thugs started swinging their mounts around.
"LISTEN TO ME!" Mareck demanded--er, pleaded and latched onto Mister Gordon's horse by it's bridle.
"Not anymore we won't!" Gordy rather gleefully determined, then he withdrew his weapon and discharged it in Roger Mareck's direction.
Their ex-employer's wide eyes closed and he dropped to the ground.
So did Mister Gordon. After relieving his ex-boss of his billfold, he removed its cash, "If he only knew how lo-ong I've been wanting to do that!" he rather regrettably, and relievedly, exclaimed. Then he dropped the empty wallet onto the dead little man's chest and stepped over to the still non-moving lawman.
U.S. Marshal James Crown awoke to the feel of cold steel being pressed into his left temple. The front of his face was resting against cold steel as well and he realized--with a slight shudder--that he had jes' come within a fraction of an inch a' splittin' his head wide open on one a' the track's steel rails. He braced himself and then tried to raise his throbbing head above the level of the steel bar that was blocking his view. He 'winced' as the movement caused a white-hot pain to shoot across his bruised--and sweat-drenched--forehead. There was the unmistakable 'cli-ick' of a pistol being cocked and his aching head was pressed back down onto the ground by the point of somebody's gun barrel. But not before he caught sight of Roger Mareck's corpse.
The little man was lying beside the track, looking very dea-ead, indee-eed! Now Mareck really was non-existent!
The Marshal stared up at the man's personal bodyguard--turned personal assassin--and quietly inquired, "You an' yore boss have a little fallin' out, did you?"
"Goodbye, Marshal," Eugene Gordon slimily said, tightening his finger on the trigger of his gun--the barrel of which was still being pressed into the lawman's left temple, "You're about to become a really dead DEAD man!"
"He dies--you die!" Elliot Polk suddenly shouted--er, promised from the shadows of those trees that were growing on that little rise, "The Marshal's MI-INE!"
"What're you savin' him for?!" Denny demanded.
"I need 'im!" Polk impatiently replied.
"For WHAT?!" Mister Gordon wanted to know.
"I intend ta trade! HIM for my baby brother!"
"You'll never get away with it!" Gordy guaranteed, "And, if he gets away from you--"
"If you ain't already dead," Mr. Nyman cut in, "We'll kill you!"
"Don' worry! He won' get away! Now back off!"
Mister Gordon reluctantly replaced his pistol. Then he even more reluctantly remounted, and the three ex-bodyguards began taking their leave of Cimarron--and the entire Territory! The three thugs did not intend to be within fifty miles of there when that train pulled in from Hardesty in the morning.
The lawman realized that Polk would probably be watching the three thugs' departure. So, he decided to use the distraction to his advantage. The Marshal managed--somehow--to slide his bound wrists down past his posterior, and continued to slide them down, 'til they were directly behind his knees. Then, one-by-one, the peace officer pulled his legs back through the loop that had been formed when his hands were first cuffed together. The lawman jerked the first--and the second--noose loose and then slipped both of the 'neck ties' up over his head. With his bound wrists now in front of him, Crown could use his hands to heave himself up off the ground. And so he did. But only just enough to clear the steel rail that ran beside him. Once over the rail, the Marshal rolled over to where 'Mister' Mareck's body lay--and began groping around for the little man's little gun. The lawman's knuckles struck something cool and hard and he exhaled a brief breath of relief as his right hand came up with Roger Mareck's .22 caliber revolver.
"Hold it!" somebody's older brother suddenly shouted.
The Marshal recognized the voice as belonging to one of the two sleezes he and the 'Mrs.' had met along the trail 'bout two days back. The same person who had held Katelyn at gun-point earlier that evening--Po-olk! Needless to say, the lawman did not hold it. On the contrary, Crown squeezed off a shot in the voice's immediate vicinity and then began hauling himself off in the direction of his horse--whose silhouette he could jes' see below that little rise...where all the trees, and their concealing shadows were. If he could jes' make it ta the safety of those shadows, the Marshal figured he'd be home free!
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Speakin' a' the Marshal's 'Mrs.' an' ho-ome...
Katelyn had heard the first shot and had 'homed in' on it. The woman rode up to the meeting place just in time to watch 'Mister' Mareck's murderer place the tip of his gun's barrel on the motionless lawman's left temple. The tough little lady from Texas had brought her rifle up--and was about to blow away the slime brain who was about to blow her husband's head off--when Elliot Polk suddenly appeared on the scene. She had continued watching as all three of the murdered man's thugs were promptly dispatched by the new arrival--whom the lady also recognized as one of her attempted rapists. Katelyn crept stealthily up behind the sleeze and was about to bring the butt-end of her rifle down upon his slimey brain, when he suddenly swung his gun arm up and shouted for the Marshal to, "Hold it!" However, neither the little lady, nor her husband listened to the sleeze's order. Katelyn brained the 'blankety-blank' and then dropped to the ground herself--as a bullet went whistling past her right ear.
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The woman was about to call out to Jim Crown to, 'Hold his fi-ire!' when someone else beat her to it. Mareck's ex-bodyguards must've heard her husband's shot and returned for him.
And, judging by the increased size of their group, they'd managed to find some reinforcements.
One minute, the lawman was in the fryin' pan--the next, he was in the fi-ire!
"I SAID TA HOLD YOUR FIRE!" Roger Mareck's murderer angrily repeated as the non-listening Marshal got off another shot, this time, in his little group's direction.
"O-or?!" Jim Crown wondered curiously.
"O-or, the 'Committee To Save Our Marshal', here, is going to be permanently DISBANDED!" Mister Gordon warned--er, promised.
"Don't listen to him, Marshal!" Mister Andrews advised and was pistol-whipped for his efforts.
Jim Crown exhaled a 'gasp' of utter exasperation and then banged his bruised forehead up against the tree he was crouched behind. If only folks would stop tryin' so hard ta 'save' him--the Marshal figured he jes' might stand a chance a' makin' it!
"That's better!" Gordy determined after several seconds passed and no further shots were fired, "Now, throw down the gun and come out!"
Katelyn 'gasped' herself--in horror--as her husband tossed down his weapon and then came staggering out of the shadows. She brought her rifle back up and began taking careful aim at the outlaw who was giving all the orders.
That's when three shots rang out. Only they were fired so closely together, that it sounded more like one.
The woman watched in wide-eyed wonder--and no little confusion--as the men who wanted to kill her husband suddenly catapulted from their saddles and went 'crashing' to the ground.
Crown considered taking evasive action, but the 'Save Our Marshal Committee' was still seated right out there--in the open--so he, regretably, held his ground.
"You boys had bes' get back ta town!" Mr. Stevens advised--er, warned the half a dozen or so men who had ridden to the lawman's rescue, "You--or anybody else--tries anything, and the Marshal is gonna get the first bullet!" he further warned--er, promised and pointed his finger at the now completely surrounded peace officer.
The townsfolk hung their heads in guilt and shame and slowly began to file off--in the direction of Cimarron.
Cro-own, who had resigned himself to being taken back into the bad guys' 'custody', stared down at Elliot Polk's motionless body in amazement. How on earth could his single shot in the dark possibly have been so lucky?! "It's about time, Rutgers!" the captured lawman calmly called out, "I was beginin' ta think you'd never get here! At least, not in ti-ime..." he tacked on rather annoyedly.
"His 'honor' ain't he-ere!" Stevens obligingly informed him.
"Oh, he's he-ere, all right..." the lawman corrected, "There's too much at stake for him ta not be here!"
"I enjoy a good joke as well as the next man, Marshal!" Rutgers declared as he came riding into view--much to Steven's and the others' astonishment. "Especially when all the 'humor' was at your expense!" he gleefully added and let loose with several more mirthful chuckles. "I hate your guts! But I do admire your sense of humor! Ah-ahh, I'd've given anything to see the look on Mareck's face when Nyman told him the train wasn't coming!" he confessed rather wistfully and sat there, looking like he had all he could do to keep from laughing.
Crown had about all he could do to keep from falling. The 'leaking' lawman had lost about as much blood as a body could lose--and still remain conscious. And so the unbelievably hot and thirsty Marshal was actually relieved when his horse was hauled over to him and he was helped aboard.
"Grab one of those ropes down there!" Rutgers ordered as an amusing afterthought, "Roger Mareck was a complete and utter fool...but I rather liked his little 'noose around the neck' idea!"
Thus, as Stevens--the lead rider--pulled his horse along, a side rider kept Jim Crown in his seat, using the old 'rope around his neck' arrangement.
Katelyn watched in grim silence as the group of fifteen gunmen and their--by the looks of him--barely conscious captive headed off for...Adrian's Canyon? at a rather brisk pace. The woman wisely took the time to tie her brained prisoner to a tree--using the remaining rope--before heading back over to her horse, herself. (It wouldn't do for Polk to come to and interfere in some way with her rescue efforts.)
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The lady needn't've worried about losing them, for less than a mile of constant jerking and jostling later, the lawman let out an involuntary 'groan' and started falling forwards in his seat.
"HOLD UP!" his side rider shouted and the whole gang of them ground to a halt.
"What's the matter?!" Rutgers wondered as he and Stevens approached the side rider who had requested the unscheduled stop.
"I dunno! But he don't look like he's gonna make it!" he defensively exclaimed and motioned to their grimacing and gasping 'groaning' captive.
"All right," Stevens said, jerking the 'moaning' Marshal up in his seat, "now...just what exactly is ailin' you?!"
Crown was slow in commenting. Another savage jerk on the rope around his neck caused him to quickly clear his throat and reply--er, lie, "Nothin'! Let's go!" A third vicious tug produced a more involved answer, "I'll be all right. I jes' lost some ribs...is all."
"You're lyin'!" Stevens determined, "Mareck couldn't a' hit yah that hard! He's fakin', Judge! He's jes' tryin' ta stall us!"
The side rider dropped to the ground and stepped up to examine the ribs in question. The man struck up a match, threw the lawman's leather vest open--and then froze, "Hey, Stevens, he ain't foolin'! This is sure enough rea-eal blood he's bleedin' here, all right!"
Stevens looked at the blood and then at Rutgers--who simply looked surprised.
"I didn't think Old Roger had it in him..." the amazed magistrate admitted.
"He don't...didn't!" Crown corrected, "It was...a 'Mister' Winchester...I was recently on...the receivin' end a' one...The Hampton brothers came...a lot closer...ta collectin' that...bounty...than you kin imagine...yore 'honor'."
"So," Stevens stated, "what do we do now?"
"Yeah," the side rider interjected, "he ain't gonna get very far leakin' like this!"
"That's okay, because we don't have very far to go--do we, Marshal!" the corrupt judge incorrectly 'judged' and couldn't resist giving the rope around Jim Crown's throat an ill-tempered tug of his own.
That was all it took to send their--already extremely off-balance--captive crashing to the ground. The landing didn't do the lawman's lost ribs any good, but the impact--somehow--managed to 'pop' his slightly dislocated right shoulder back into it's proper place. The now pain free--at least in that particular area--peace officer heaved a quiet sigh of relief, when he recovered his wind, and then passed-- completely--out.
"Somebody gonna ride with him from here on?" the side rider suddenly asked, "Or do we just throw him across his saddle?"
From her concealment, Katelyn heard the question that had been so callously posed and quickly urged her horse forwards. Not, perhaps a particularly wise move on her part, but the little lady from Texas could no longer contain herself! "I kin ride with him!" Mrs. Crown courageously volunteered as over a dozen guns were drawn and aimed at her, "And I kin stop the bleedin'! Please! I'm a nurse! Let me tend to him an' I'll see to it that he makes it ta the canyon!"
Stevens stared down at the object that was draped over the horn of the lovely intruder's saddle, "Will yah look at tha-at!" he amazedly exclaimed to his equally amazed--and slightly dazed--associates, "She brung 'im his ha-at!"
"All right," Rutgers calmly replied after careful consideration of the pretty lady's proposal. Then--to Stevens--he said, "See to it that that's all she 'brung' him!"
Stevens grinned and eagerly dismounted. Now, that was one order the gunman would gladly obey--ANY DAY!