Treachery at Baynes Springs Read online

  Marcy felt her stomach roll at the words. ‘Robbery? Our money was stolen?’

  Chapter 11

  She hadn’t wanted to ask the Kansas City Federal Bank for money, but it was either that or close the bank. That she couldn’t do. Her father had built the bank and she had worked behind the counter since leaving school. When the horse fell on him, killing him instantly, the twins were devastated. For a day or two. Growing up, Martin just naturally worked at becoming a cowhand. With his pa’s death, he took over the Circle B, she the bank. Both businesses had been profitable and the twins wanted to make that continue.

  But somehow, since the death of their father, the ranch was no longer paying its own way. Something was wrong out there. When Martin had come in asking for money, enough to make the monthly payroll, there was nothing she could do. That had happened too many times and it didn’t take long for the bank’s reserves to be gone.

  The Federal Bank would make the loan, she knew that. The federal government wanted to open up more of the territory. One of the assurances being given to potential homesteaders was not only lots of empty land, but a thriving community complete with a working bank. The Federal Bank officials were very willing to send out the money.

  ‘I fear so,’ said Drazen, smiling weakly to show his concern, ‘and I apologize for being the bearer of bad news. The shipment was taken by train robbers. The amount to come to you was the largest portion of that shipment.’

  The news was devastating to the woman. The bank had originally been created by her father and as the town grew, business with the bank increased to the point where the purchase of a large, secure safe was necessary. Baynes, always looking to the future of his town, had the new safe installed in the back of a purpose-built building.

  The twins’ father was a born cattleman and was surprised to find he had a talent for making the bank, and the town itself, prosper. Following his death, for the first year or two, both had seemingly done well with their inheritance. The bank prospered and Martin stayed busy out at the ranch. The first sign of trouble was when Martin, talking about a raid by rustlers just before a cattle drive, came in for a loan from the bank’s reserve cash to pay outstanding bills. Before he could make another gather, he came for more money, this time to pay for a pair of shorthorn bulls he’d bought at auction in Kansas City. Money kept going out to the ranch and soon the bank’s cash reserve was depleted to the point of not being able to make normal loans to other ranchers. Applying to the Federal Bank in Kansas City, she was assured help was on its way. Until this man came into the bank, Marcy’s only problem was holding on until the money arrived. Although worried, up to that moment she had been sure everything would be all right.

  ‘Why hadn’t someone notified me?’ she asked, trying to come to terms with the news.

  ‘That is what I’m here for. The decision was made to keep news of the robbery away from the public with the hope the thieves could be caught and the missing money returned. Because the amount earmarked for this bank was a major part of the shipment, my company was given the job of contacting you. Pinkerton detectives are working on the train robbery itself and are confident of success. It appears they have some information that their men are following up.’

  ‘The Pinkertons? They think the robbers will be caught?’ Marcy was still in shock. What would she do if that money wasn’t found? ‘I’m sorry, Mr huh,’ she looked down at the card, ‘Mr Drazen. This news is terrible.’

  ‘I understand.’ Pulling a paper from an inside pocket, he read the words before looking up, ‘From the information we received from the Federal Bank, this bank is owned by your family, you and your brother, Martin. Is that correct?’

  ‘Yes. Martin is manager of our ranch, the Circle B, and I am here. At the present time he is out of town, driving a small herd of yearlings to the railhead at Dodge City.’

  ‘Well, it’s certain he’ll learn of the robbery there.’

  ‘You say the Pinkerton detectives have some information? Do you have any idea what it could be?’

  Drazen saw how she’d taken the news and decided to give her a little hope. ‘Well, you understand, I’m not supposed to talk about the robbery, and I trust you won’t talk about it either. Not,’ he chuckled, ‘that any talk here in your town would be likely to get back to where the train was held up. But yes. The holdup gang had a man hiding in a large wicker basket supposedly filled with wool blankets being shipped to the Indian reservation. At the right moment the man jumped out and shot the two men sitting guard on the money shipment. It is thought that at least four or maybe as many as six men were involved. They made their getaway on horses made available by one of the gang. It seems the holdup gang used the same method to rob a stagecoach a couple weeks before. The cash you’re likely waiting for is, I’m afraid, gone.’

  Chapter 12

  The three old men sitting in the afternoon shade on the hotel porch watched with interest when the tall stranger went into the bank only to come out a short time later with Marcy Baynes on his arm. They watched as the couple came walking up the street, turning into the hotel’s restaurant.

  ‘Wal, what’d ya think of that?’ said Amos quietly. ‘Didn’t I tell ya both he was a businessman? Checking into the hotel and then fetching the Baynes girl out for lunch. Yessir, he’s here to do business. That’s fer sure.’

  Clyde slowly shook his head side to side. ‘Maybe. Or maybe he’s someone met Marcy Baynes and is starting to court her. She’s a looker, and that’s certain. What I can’t understand is why we ain’t got cowboys from all over the place coming to court her. Why, when I was a youngster if’n there was a pretty woman within fifty miles, that’d be where you’d find me come Saturday evening. In those days women was so rare if she was unmarried she’d not even have to be pretty or so young either. Nope, I don’t understand about men nowadays. Howsomever, it ain’t likely she’ll not be single ferever. That stranger was all suited up fer courting, don’t ya think?’

  Amos snorted. ‘Old man, yur’re so old when you was in yur prime they hadn’t really invented women yet. But if you know all about it, tell me this, how in hell would that fella meet up with Marcy in the first place? She ain’t been outa town in a long time. Nope, old man, I’ll bet ya a dollar to a donut he’s here to do business. Likely banking business.’

  Talk died out as a bunch of riders came across the bridge. It could be seen by the amount of dust covering the horses and the men sitting the saddles they had come a fair piece. It wasn’t until they came close to where the old men were sitting that they were recognized.

  ‘Hey, those are Frying Pan hands,’ said Amos as the riders went by.

  Harry Brogan had been silent, keeping out of the other men’s arguing. Now he frowned. ‘You’re right. That’s Martin Baynes riding right there, and there’s Tony Rodriquez right next to him. I didn’t think those two were even talking to each other.’

  ‘Nope, but once again,’ said Clyde, ‘ya’re showing yore ignorance. Yeah, it’s true young Baynes and Tony ain’t friendly to one another, but they decided a short while back to join forces and run a gather of yearlin’s over to the railhead.’

  The put-down comment didn’t bother Brogan. ‘Seems strange, doesn’t it?’ he said, ignoring the older man, ‘not too many people in these parts and here’s two men about the same age, each running cattle spreads right next each other but not being friendly. Don’t make sense.’

  Amos nodded. ‘Yep. Truth is they was once close as fleas on a dog’s back. All three of them youngsters, the twins and Tony, they was growing up together. The three of them on horseback coming into town each morning, going to the school there. Why, I can recall Frank Baynes saying how interesting it’d be if someday his girl wouldn’t marry up with that Rodriquez boy. But that didn’t last. Nobody knows exactly what happened, but all of a sudden Tony wasn’t riding with the twins no longer.’

  Chapter 13

  The riders pulled up in front of the Past Time Saloon. Hollering and slapping each
other on the back the riders shouldered their way into the saloon leaving two men, Martin and Tony, behind. Together the two went the other way crossing the street to the bank. Alike as two peas in a pod, it was clear both young men spent most of their time on horseback. Slender and lanky built, both of a size, just under six feet tall. Being broad shouldered and narrow at the waist, walking side by side with their clothes all dusty, it was hard from a distance to tell which was which.

  ’What’s the story on him? Tony Rodriquez?’ asked Harry as the dust-covered men disappeared into the bank. ‘He got a piece of that ranch he’s boss of? Or is he just a hired hand?’

  Once again Clyde offered up the answer. ‘Wal, I can’t really say. Now back when Frank Baynes first came into this country, there weren’t much of anything here.’

  ‘You were riding for him back then, wasn’t ya?’ asked Amos.

  Clyde nodded. ‘Yep. We put together a herd of longhorns and followed them up outa Texas. Old man Baynes thought there was too many people coming into the panhandle down there. We pushed them critters into this valley and Baynes called it home. The grass was good and it didn’t take but a couple three years for the herd to start showing signs of growing. We was here a handful of years or so when George Allen came along. He was a young man hisself. About young Frank’s age I figure. Wal, he had a herd and a half dozen or so hands and they quickly drove stakes in the grassland across the creek west of the Baynes spread. Both ranch owners claimed a lot of land. Weren’t nobody else in the area in those days. Allen called his brand the Frying Pan. It wasn’t long before Frank Baynes and Allen met up and became friends. Remember, that was long before this here little town was even thought of.’

  Clyde, the self proclaimed historian of the little group, took his time. Finally, satisfied he had their attention, he went on. ‘Anyway, over on the Frying Pan, George Allen was getting hisself all set up. Allen was a thinking-ahead kind of man, ya understand. But ya see, he didn’t have a wife. Fact is he ain’t got one even now that he’s an old man. But he’d built hisself a pretty fancy ranch house. Lots of rooms, I hear. I ain’t never been inside. It musta been hard to keep clean ’cause, as I recall, after a year or so he brought in a housekeeper. A Mexican woman. Olivia Rodriquez her name was. Wal, anyway, Miz Rodriquez came complete with a little boy. Tony. Been there ever since. I don’t rightly remember, just seemed like all of a sudden Mr Allen had a housekeeper and then there was this little fella running around. But never mind, it suited him and he did a good job of raising the boy to be a cattleman.’

  Harry looked over at Amos. ‘You were on the Frying Pan, weren’t you, Amos? Were you part of the crew that helped Mr Allen set up his ranch?’

  ‘Naw. I came out looking for work and hired on with the Allen spread. That was a long time ago. All the years I worked on the Frying Pan, Allen would not hire a Mexican vaquero. And let me tell you, those boys know how to cowboy. I reckon he had a big hate fer ’em and didn’t want any around.’

  ‘I never did figure that out,’ said Clyde, cutting a bit of his Winesap brand plug tobacco. After getting it comfortable in his cheek, he went on. ‘It weren’t no secret. Everybody knew he couldn’t abide by Mexicans but there he was, with a Mexican woman fer a housekeeper. And her boy, to boot. Makes ya wonder, don’t it?’

  Amos nodded. ‘Yup, and the way he treated her and the young’n, ya’d never know anythin’ about it. Goes to show, cain’t never tell about people. Why, back when Tony there was still wearing nappies, even then he was a rascal. I remember his growing up. Quick learning, though.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Clyde after a brief silence, ‘them two, well, actually all three of them, Tony and the twins, they are of an age and were growing up ya might say right next door to each other.’

  ‘I can remember them youngsters,’ said Amos, chuckling, ‘them two Baynes tykes, all white with white hair, likely all bleached in the sun, and little brown Tony, his black hair always in need of a cutting. Yup. They was a close bunch in those days.’

  Clyde spit a stream out into the street. ‘When they were more growed up, old Frank sent Martin off east to that college over in Kansas City. Allen did the same, sending Tony east. Allen had always treated the boy real good. Old Allen never let it worry him, that the boy had a Mexican mama. Don’t know but what his daddy had been a gringo, but never mind.’ He paused. ‘Anyway, both them young men came back and right away started making changes with the way the two outfits did business. Guess it was worthwhile, the Frying Pan ships herds north to the railhead a couple times a year. Allen’s beef are a good mix of longhorns and some of them shorthorns. Why Martin even brung in a buncha whiteface cattle and got rid of the longhorns. Then recently he bought a couple big bulls fer breeding. Guess college didn’t hurt them two at all.’

  Harry was ready with his next question but stopped when Martin Baynes came out of the bank in a rush. Not hesitating, he was almost running up the street before slamming through the door into the restaurant.

  ‘Now that doesn’t surprise me,’ said Clyde slowly, ‘ever since they was young’ns that boy Martin has been what ya might call protective of his sister. Wouldn’t want to be in that stranger’s shoes right about now.’

  Chapter 14

  Deputy Nate Stewart had overslept. Somehow since chasing over the Territory and bringing Little Carly to jail he hadn’t been able to catch up on his sleep. The few hours in bed after getting his marching orders from the marshal weren’t enough. Riding on the stage might have been time to relax and rest, but it hadn’t worked out that way. Travel by stage coach was rarely a relaxing experience. The body of the coach may have been suspended on half-a-dozen leather through-braces but that didn’t mean those inside rode in any kind of comfort. Plus having the big man sitting across from him didn’t help. Nathan couldn’t help but wonder how he was able to pull his derby over his eyes and sleep. Hard to do, but the man was doing it.

  Then there was the young woman sitting on the bench next to him. Time after time, with every sway of the coach, her body would end up briefly against his. She also found it possible to doze off, which resulted in her head finding his shoulder for a pillow. Nathan Stewart might be a young man but he wasn’t completely inexperienced when it come to women. Try as he might to close his eyes and doze off, her body at times and then her head on his shoulder made that impossible.

  Arriving in Baynes Springs, as soon as he could he rented a room at Mrs Cornwall’s boarding house.

  ‘Supper’s at six o’clock,’ explained the large woman. ‘It don’t get held up for later, either. Be at the table or do without,’ she went on laying out the house rules, ‘and no drinking. If you want to drink of an evening, then it’s down here in the parlor. My Henry, he liked his drink after dinner and at times I even like a sip myself. But I don’t hold with whiskey drinking up in the rooms. Or getting drunk.’

  Wanting only to crawl into a bed, Nathan nodded. ‘Your husband, Henry, is he around?’ he asked hoping to stop the conversation.

  ‘No. Henry passed on years ago,’ said the woman, not stopping her practised listing of rules, ‘no women in your room, either. This is a good, decent boarding house. There are other places for things like that,’ she actually raised her nose toward the ceiling and sniffed.

  Catching her hesitation, Nathan nodded his agreement. ‘Yes ma’am. I’ll certain abide by the house rules. Now, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll retire early.’

  ‘Remember, supper is at six.’

  Nathan used the pitcher of water on the table by his bed to wash his face, removed his holstered gun and his boots and stretched out on the bed. He was asleep in seconds.

  Coming awake with the sunshine hitting his face the next morning, he changed into a clean shirt, asked the landlady for directions and left the house, searching for breakfast.

  There wasn’t much to Baynes Springs, he quickly discovered. The hotel, a saloon, the bank, a general store and a couple smaller shops was about all. The only restaurant, he was told, was
at the hotel. The chalk board menu listed what was available. After the long hours sleeping and a meal of sliced ham, fried eggs, lightly toasted grits, biscuits and gravy and two cups of coffee, he felt ready for anything. He was finishing his second cup when Drazen and a young woman came in. Well, another cup of coffee would go down nicely, he decided. After all, he was supposed to keep a watch on the lawyer, wasn’t he? Smiling at the waitress he asked for a refill and sat back to see what he could overhear.

  Back in Dodge City, there by the stage office, he and Drazen had talked. It was the only time the lawyer had seemed to take any notice of the deputy.

  ‘Well, Deputy Marshal,’ Drazen had said, smiling coldly as he stared unblinkingly at the younger man, ‘I wonder what your boss told you about me. Probably wasn’t very favorable. The man doesn’t like me simply because I keep those out of prison that he and his crew don’t work hard enough to get satisfactory evidence on. And here I go, off to the primeval parts of the Territory and he’s sent you along. I wonder, to protect me from evil people?’

  Stewart had kept a poker face in spite of the man’s humorless laugh. ‘I’m told you’re on your way to inform a bank its money was stolen. Can’t see why a telegram couldn’t do the job, but neither I nor Marshal Adkins would try to tell you your business.’

  ‘All right, so we’ll be traveling together. Do me a favor and don’t talk to me while we’re in that coach. I don’t want people to think I’m friendly with what passes for the law in these parts.’

  ‘No chance of that,’ Stewart had said, turning away and tipping his hat at the young woman who just walked through the station door.

  Not talking was easy, what with the noise coming from outside. Half asleep, the deputy had paid no attention to the other man, but was very conscious of the woman sitting on the bench next to him.