William Johnstone - Dead Before Sundown

“That was what I figured on doing,” Frank said.

A hint of an icy smile appeared on McKendrick’s lips. “You don’t understand. You have no choice in the matter. For the time being you may consider yourselves under arrest.”

“Arrest!” Salty yelped in surprise. “What in tarnation are you arrestin’ us for, you … you danged redcoat!”

“You’re being held for questioning as suspicious characters,” McKendrick said.

“That don’t sound like no real charge to me!”

Frank said, “Take it easy, Salty.” To McKendrick, he went on, “We’re coming with you anyway, Sergeant. What’s the point in placing us under arrest?”

“It gives me the authority to demand that you surrender your weapons.” McKendrick carried a revolver in a holster with a flap over the butt of the gun. He rested his hand on that flap now.

Frank could have drawn his own Colt half a dozen times or more in the time it would take McKendrick to unfasten that flap and haul out the holstered revolver. Outnumbered four to one, though, he didn’t want to get in a shooting scrape with the Mounties.

It wasn’t just a matter of the odds, either. Sergeant McKendrick might be a stiff-necked, overly suspicious son of a gun, but he was just doing his job the best way he knew how. Wrong or not, he didn’t deserve a bullet for that.

“All right, Sergeant,” Frank said. “We want to go to Calgary anyway, so we’ll cooperate … for now. Don’t get spooked. I’m going to hand you my gun.”

“Carefully,” McKendrick advised.

Frank reached over with his left hand to slide the Colt from leather and surrender it to the Mountie. Salty grumbled about giving up his gun, but he did it.

That just left Reb. McKendrick turned toward him and said, “You, too, Mr. Russell. Hand over your weapon.”

Reb looked torn. Suddenly, he stepped back, and his hand flashed to his holster with blinding speed. He drew the ivory-handled gun before any of the Mounties could hope to stop him and trained the weapon on McKendrick.

“Hold it right there, Sergeant,” Reb said. “I don’t want to shoot you, but I will if I have to. You’re not gettin’ my gun.”

Chapter 30

“Reb, what in blazes are you doing?” Frank demanded. He glanced at the Mounties. Several of them had raised their rifles and pointed them at the young man. They might have opened fire if Sergeant McKendrick hadn’t lifted a hand to stop them.

“Hold on there, lads,” McKendrick said. “No shooting unless we absolutely have to.” He glared at Reb. “What’s the meaning of this, Mr. Russell?”

“The meanin’ is that I ain’t handin’ over my gun to you,” Reb drawled. “I haven’t done anything wrong. You can’t arrest me, either.”

Again that frosty smile touched McKendrick’s lips. “I beg to differ with you, sir. I can arrest anyone I please.”

The gun in Reb’s hand didn’t waver as he said, “Well, I reckon you can try to arrest me … but you’re liable to be in mighty hot water with your bosses if you do.”

“Oh? Why, pray tell?”

“Because they’ll be in hot water with the U.S. government. The Canadian government knows I’m here.”

Quietly, Frank said, “Reb, I think you’ve got some explaining to do.”

“Yeah,” Salty added indignantly.

Reb smiled but didn’t lower his gun. “I’m gonna reach in my pocket,” he said. “Sergeant, tell your boys not to get itchy trigger fingers.”

“You heard the man,” McKendrick told the other Mounties. “I’d like to see what this … gentleman … thinks is going to change my mind.”

Reb slid his free hand inside his buckskin shirt. He brought out a small leather folder. “I’ll toss it to you, Frank,” he said. “You can show it to the sergeant.”

Frank nodded. “All right.”

Carefully, Reb lofted the folder through the air to Frank, who caught it and flipped it open before handing it to McKendrick. A badge and an identification card were pinned inside the folder.

“So you’re really Captain Russell,” Frank said.

Reb nodded. “That’s right. Attached to the U.S. Secret Service right now. I was sent up here to try to get on the trail of those Gatlin’ guns. Once I did, I was supposed to contact your folks, Sergeant, and let you know where they were so the Mounties could recover ‘em. If we were somewhere you could send a wire to Ottawa, you could confirm that pretty quick-like.”

“But we’re not, are we?” McKendrick snapped. “So I’m left with the decision of whether or not to accept this preposterous story.”

“It’s not preposterous,” Reb said. “You’ve got my badge and bona fides right there.”

McKendrick shook his head. “Anyone can have a badge and an identification card made.”

“You don’t give up easy, do you?”

McKendrick gave him a flinty look. “I’m a sergeant in the North West Mounted Police. Of course I don’t give up easily.”

Frank said, “For what it’s worth, Sergeant, I believe him. Ever since I met him, my gut’s been telling me there was something I didn’t know about Reb, and I reckon this is it.”

Salty squinted at the young man. “Was you really at the ro-day-o down in Pecos?”

“Yeah,” Reb replied with a grin. “I’ve been travelin’ around competin’ in rodeos for a while. Gives me a good excuse for bein’ where I need to be when the Army and the Secret Service send me on a job.” He looked at McKendrick again. “How about it, Sergeant? Are we gonna work together, the way your government and my government intended, or does there have to be a ruckus?”

“You’re heavily outnumbered, you know,” McKendrick reminded him. “You can’t hope to prevail.”

“I’ll take my chances. And you’re the one I’ve got my sights lined on, remember.”

Frank finally lost his temper. “Blast it, while we’re standing around here jawing, the varmints we’re after are getting farther away. All the signs indicate that they’re headed for Calgary, Sergeant, so that’s the way we all want to go. There’s no need for a bunch of argument.”

McKendrick drew in a deep breath, held it for a second, and then said, “I suppose you’re right, Mr. Morgan. There’s no need to press the issue. Would you like your weapons returned to you?”

“I sure as hell would,” Salty said.

McKendrick handed the revolvers back to Frank and the old-timer. “Consider yourselves no longer under arrest.”

“I never really did,” Salty said as he pouched his iron.

“We’ll call this a truce,” McKendrick went on.

Frank said, “That works for me. We don’t have our saddles anymore, but we can rig blankets on our horses and use rope for hackamores.”

Getting ready to ride didn’t take long. Frank helped Salty onto one of the horses. The old-timer was still pretty stiff and sore from his wound.

Reb had holstered his gun, but he kept a wary eye on McKendrick and the other Mounties as the party moved out, heading east. The three Americans rode at the head of the group with McKendrick.

“How long do you think it’ll take us to get to Calgary?” Frank asked.

“If we’re not delayed, we should reach there late this afternoon or early this evening.”

Frank nodded slowly. “The Métis have enough of a lead that we can’t catch them. They’re going to get to the settlement before we do. That’s going to make it harder to find them.”

“There are several thousand people in Calgary,” McKendrick said. “It’s going to be a difficult task.”

Reb said, “It’s worse than that. They’re havin’ their annual livestock exhibition, with that rodeo comin’ up any day now. Folks from all over this part of the country will be in town for that, so the population’ll be two or three times what it usually is.”