Brotherhood of Evil (19 page)

Chapter 41

Although Albert Pike rode out to Sugarloaf every day to check in with Trask, his job was to see that the settlement remained firmly under the control of him and his men. He had established his headquarters in the Big Rock town hall and sat at one of the tables, going over the guard and patrol schedules he had drawn up.

He had never forgotten the first time he'd laid eyes on Jonas Trask. He never would. It had been in a hospital tent, late in the war, with the sound of artillery and rifle fire not far off as Union and Confederate troops clashed in the savage battle of the Wilderness.

He rubbed his eyes, remembering that time.

 

 

 

 

Pike smiled. He had been devoted to the man ever since.

Despite all the odds, Trask had saved Pike's leg. It was still stiff from the injury and always would be, giving him a slight limp, but his leg was there and he could use it. And he hadn't died screaming in that hellhole. He owed his survival to Trask, who had come to see him in a hospital in Washington, D.C., months later, after the war was over.

“You'll be released from here soon, Major,” Trask had said, “and then you'll be mustered out of the army. How would you like to come and work for me?”

“I don't know what you've got in mind, Doctor,” Pike had said as he lifted his hand from where it lay on the sheet beside him, “but whatever it is, I'm in.”

They'd shaken hands, sealing the partnership, and had been together ever since.

Although Pike had been surprised when he found out that Trask planned to put together a gang of criminals, he hadn't objected. He owed his life to the doctor, so whatever Trask wanted was all right with him.

Anyway, he soon came to see that the petty rules of normal men didn't apply to Trask. The doctor was a genius, well beyond such things as laws. Over the past decade and a half, the crimes carried out by Pike and the gang he had put together had paid for Trask's research. Pike didn't know exactly what that research was all about, but it didn't matter. He was sure that eventually Trask's brilliance would pay off and transform the world for the better.

That was why, even though it bothered Pike a little whenever innocent folks had to die, he never lost faith in the doctor. As Trask sometimes said, no progress ever came without a price.

Cully Martin came into the room. Since most of the men hadn't served in the army, the major had never insisted on military discipline among the gang, but Cully held himself almost like he was standing at attention. “Something's happened, Major. An old peddler just drove his wagon into town.”

Pike looked up with a frown. “He came in alone? None of the guards brought him in?”

“
He
brought the guards. He had the bodies of Harkness, Dalby, and Jenkins with him.”

Pike shot to his feet in anger. “What the hell happened?” he demanded.

“According to the old man, he found the bodies on the road a couple miles outside of town. He said he didn't hear any shots, so the fight must have taken place a while earlier. He put the bodies on their horses and brought them in.” Cully grunted in grim amusement. “He said he figured on turning them over to the sheriff. He didn't know Carson's locked up in his own jail.”

“You're sure of that?” Pike asked sharply. “You believe this peddler's story?”

“He seems like a harmless old man,” Cully said with a shrug. “There's no way in hell he could've downed three tough hombres like Harkness, Dalby, and Jenkins. Anyway, if he had anything to do with their deaths, he wouldn't have brought their bodies into town as bold as brass like that, would he?”

“You wouldn't think so,” Pike said, frowning. “Unless he's a lot trickier than you're giving him credit for.”

Cully shook his head. “Not that old pelican, Major. I'd bet a hat that he's harmless.”

“You'd better be right. Where is he now?”

“I don't know. Probably in one of the saloons soaking up some beer. I told him he couldn't leave town, and he promised he wouldn't cause any trouble.”

Pike just grunted.

Cully thumbed his hat back and went on. “One thing was a little strange. One of the horses he used to bring in the bodies doesn't belong, and Harkness's horse is gone.”

“The killers switched one of the horses for some reason. That's the only explanation that makes any sense.”

“Yeah, but why would they do that?”

“I don't know.” Pike's voice hardened. “We'll ask them when we catch them.”

“You're sending men after whoever it was?”

“That's right,” Pike said with a decisive nod. “Round up the best trackers in the gang and get out there where it happened. See if you can pick up the trail or at least find something that might tell us who killed those men.”

“Are you gonna tell the doctor about this?” As Cully asked that question, he sounded a little nervous for the first time during the conversation.

“Not yet,” Pike said after a moment's consideration. “Not until I have something more solid to report to him.”

“I'll get those boys and start out right away,” Cully promised.

“See that you do.”

As Cully left the town hall, Pike sat down again. He leaned back in his chair and frowned, no longer seeing the papers spread on the desk in front of him.

Losing three men was an annoyance. Losing three men under mysterious circumstances was worse. He didn't like it when things happened with no explanation.

Maybe he would hunt up that old peddler and ask him some questions. The whole matter might turn out to be nothing important, but Pike wasn't going to take that chance.

Chapter 42

Everything in the big ranch house was set up to Dr. Jonas Trask's satisfaction. He needed only one more thing in order to complete his research.

Smoke Jensen.

Trask tried to curb the impatience he felt. He had no way of knowing exactly when Jensen would arrive in the area, but it was bound to be soon. The doctor's agents in Arizona had wired him when Jensen left in the company of three other men. Even if Jensen had been taking his time on the return trip, he ought to show up any time in Big Rock or at the ranch.

Trask wondered who those other three men were, but he didn't consider the matter of any real importance. No doubt they were friends of Jensen's, but they were of no interest to Trask.

Only Smoke Jensen, the so-called fastest gun in the West, held the secret Trask desired to make his own.

Major Pike was under orders to make it known in Big Rock that Sally Jensen was a prisoner on the ranch. All the men who had come to the Sugarloaf with Trask had similar orders. No matter who Jensen encountered first upon his return to the area, he would receive the news that his wife was a captive and the only way for him to save her life was to surrender.

As long as he didn't discover that Sally had escaped, her safety was the only leverage Trask needed to get what he wanted. Of course, it was always possible that she would be recaptured soon. Plenty of capable men were searching for her.

He sat in a comfortable leather armchair in Jensen's office, reading what was supposed to be a scholarly tome by a German scientist named Von Junzt. Actually, it was filled with all sorts of mystical claptrap. Still, Trask found it contained a few nuggets of useful information, if one could wade through all the nonsense.

The massive, dull-faced servant called Dan stood nearby, waiting stolidly for orders. He would stand there without moving all day if necessary and never complain.

Dan's hair had grown back out to conceal most of the huge scar on his head, but Trask knew it was there. He had very few regrets in life. A brilliant mind had no need for regrets; what lesser intellects would regard as mistakes were only opportunities that had not yet borne fruit, he knew.

If there was one thing he might have done differently, Dan was the living representation of it. Lonesome Dan Sloane had been a superb member of the organization, a valued subordinate to Major Pike. He had been eager to take part in the doctor's research . . . and just look at him.

Well, he still played his part the best he could under the circumstances, Trask thought with a sigh as he turned his attention back to the German's fevered scribblings.

Hurried footsteps sounded in the hall. One of the men, McCoy, stuck his head in the open door. “Doctor, I hate to bother you, but there's something out here you need to see.”

“What is it?” Trask asked impatiently as he marked his place in the book with a finger. “Don't be deliberately obtuse, man.” He saw McCoy grimace and figured he didn't know what the word meant. Surely he could figure it out from the context, Trask thought.

“There's some dead men,” McCoy explained.

Well, that held the promise of being at least somewhat interesting. Trask removed his finger from the page and replaced it with the ribbon marker attached to the book. He set the volume aside and stood up. “Come along, Dan.”

Without a word or any change of expression, Lonesome Dan followed Trask out of the room.

“They came in tied over the saddles of their own horses,” McCoy babbled. “I don't know what to make of it, boss.”

“How many men are you talking about?” Trask asked as they reached the front door.

McCoy waved as they stepped out onto the porch. “Four right now. I sent some of the boys out to have a look around and make sure there's not any more.”

Trask stopped short at the sight of the four horses standing there, each with a dead man draped over the saddle and tied into place, as reported. Men stood holding the reins to keep the skittish horses from spooking more. From the looks of it, they didn't care for the grim burdens they carried.

“You say they came in on their own?” Trask asked.

“Yes, sir. Just wandered up. Horses'll do that, you know, when they're loose and have got their heads. They'll nearly always go back where they came from. But here's the funny thing—”

“I don't think there's anything amusing about these men being killed,” Trask snapped.

“No, sir, you're right,” McCoy agreed quickly. “I mean it's odd. I know these fellas and their horses, and some of 'em . . . well, they're on other men's horses. Men who, uh, ain't here.”

“From which we can draw two conclusions. The first being that whoever loaded them on these horses didn't know which mount went with which corpse.”

McCoy nodded. “That's what I figure.”

As if he hadn't heard, Trask went on, “The second being that in all probability there are other mismatched pairs somewhere in the vicinity.” He drew in a deep breath. “More of my men who have been killed.”

“Yes, sir, Doctor. I thought the same thing. That's why I sent some fellas to have a look around.”

Trask was annoyed briefly by the way McCoy put his reasoning on the same level as his own, but he ignored it as he went down the steps to one of the men holding the reins. “They were shot, I take it?”

“That's right. Ventilated good and proper, in fact.”

“Were these men all members of the same search party?”

“Yeah. They were checkin' out some of the high pastures north of here.”

“Get them down.”

Men sprang to carry out the doctor's order. Knives slid from sheaths and sawed through bindings. Hands grasped the corpses and lowered them to the ground. In a matter of moments, the four dead men were laid out on their backs.

Their faces were frozen in rictuses of death. Dark brown stains where blood had dried were visible on their clothes. Some had been shot only once, while the others were riddled with several wounds.

Trask studied them dispassionately. Loss of life bothered him only in its wasted potential. Someday when his research was complete, they could have been so much more.

A shout made him lift his head. Riders were coming in, leading two more horses carrying the same sort of grisly load. One of the animals had two bodies strapped to it.

Those dead men were cut loose and placed with the others.

The man who had come to get Trask studied them, matching up the corpses with the animals that had brought them back to the ranch headquarters. He turned to Trask. “They're all accounted for, Doctor, except one horse that could've wandered off after the fight. I don't reckon we'll find any more.”

“Unless whoever did this strikes again.”

McCoy went on excitedly. “We'd better send some more men up there right away.”

Trask shook his head. “Whoever did this will be gone by now. I make no claim to being any sort of military tactician, but even I know that.”

“You reckon it was that Jensen woman they were lookin' for? When she got away from here, a couple ranch hands were with her. They might've taken that missing horse for her to ride.”

“Possibly,” Trask said. Even as he spoke, he didn't believe it. He knew how unlikely it was that a woman and two cowboys had gunned down more than twice their number of hardened killers.

No, Trask thought as he felt anticipation begin to grow inside him, there was a much more plausible explanation for the deaths of his men.

Smoke Jensen had returned.