Kid Palomino

  Kid Palomino: Outlaws

  Outlaw Bill Carson and his gang ride into the quiet settlement of Fargo knowing that the sheriff and his deputies are out of town. Carson has inside information about the bank and banker, which the ruthless killer intends to use to his advantage. What Carson and his equally blood-thirsty gang do not know is that the deputies have arrived back early. Kid Palomino and his fellow lawman Red Rivers notice the strangers in town and decide to find out who they are. All hell erupts as the lawmen confront Carson and his gang. The Kid and Red give chase. . . .

  By the same author

  The Valko Kid

  Kid Palomino

  The Guns of Trask

  The Shadow of Valko

  Palomino Rider

  The Spurs of Palomino

  South of the Badlands

  The Masked Man

  Palomino Showdown

  Return of the Valko Kid

  The Trail of Trask

  Kid Dynamite

  War Smoke

  The Sunset Kid

  The Venom of Valko

  The Mark of Trask

  Fortress Palomino

  To Kill the Valko Kid

  Kid Fury

  Stagecoach to Waco Wells

  The Ghosts of War Smoke

  The Wizard of War Smoke

  Kid Palomino: Outlaws

  Michael D. George

  ROBERT HALE

  © Michael D. George 2017

  First published in Great Britain 2017

  ISBN 978-0-7198-2199-8

  The Crowood Press

  The Stable Block

  Crowood Lane

  Ramsbury

  Marlborough

  Wiltshire SN8 2HR

  www.bhwesterns.com

  Robert Hale is an imprint of The Crowood Press

  The right of Michael D. George to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him

  in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

  Dedicated to my grand-daughters Alexia and Skye

  PROLOGUE

  The town of Fargo was quiet. Most of its inhabitants had been asleep for hours as the sky slowly began to show the first glimpses of light. The sun was about to rise but five riders were already wide-awake as they slowly steered their horses into the sleepy settlement. Merciless outlaw Bill Carson led his band of fellow outlaws through the back streets toward the Fargo Bank.

  Like his followers, Carson sported a long dust coat which hid their arsenal of weaponry from curious eyes. He led the Brand brothers, Luke and Amos through the shadows like a mute army general. Poke Peters and Jeff Kane trailed the trio like obedient guard dogs. It was their job to watch out for any sign of trouble that might raise its head and start fanning their gun hammers in their direction.

  Yet Fargo was a law-abiding settlement. Trouble rarely entered its boundaries. Until this day it had only had to cope with drunken revelry but as the heavens slowly grew lighter above the roof shingles, all that was about to change. Had it been later in the day, the streets would have been filled to overflowing with people going about their rituals.

  Bill Carson had chosen the moment of their arrival with perfect accuracy. He knew that the moment between night and the birth of a new day was when all towns were at their most vulnerable.

  The outlaw leader kept tapping his bloody spurs into the flanks of his powerful mount. Carson was known for his prowess at robbing even the sturdiest of banks and was wanted dead or alive in three states and two territories. Yet no one in Fargo had ever set eyes upon him before. He had travelled more than a hundred miles from his usual hunting grounds in order to strike at Fargo’s seemingly impenetrable bank.

  Unknown to his four deadly underlings, Carson had been given inside information concerning not only the bank itself but also its owner. All the brutal Carson had to do was follow his instructions and the money was as good as his.

  The five riders continued at their slow pace and as far as Carson was concerned, everything else would fall neatly into place. His hooded eyes glanced over his shoulder at the men riding behind him. They were all hired killers and wanted by the law just like he was. The only difference between them was that Carson demanded total obedience and would kill even them if they did not follow his orders.

  Carson had two rules that he demanded his followers abide by without question.

  The first was to kill anyone who got in their way and the second was not to show any mercy. Carson had earned the high price on his head. He had left a mountain of dead bodies in his wake. Women and children fared little better than men when it came to the hot lead he and his men dished out.

  Carson glanced at the cloudless heavens and continued to jab his spurs into his walking mount. Blood dripped from the metal spikes. He watched the sky turn pink as the distant sun was about to rise.

  The bank stood like a fortress in the middle of Fargo. It towered over the many other buildings. Not one of the numerous outlaws who had passed this way before had even dared to try and rob it. Its red brick and cement walls were enough to scare most of the lethal outlaws away. The iron bars that covered every one of its windows looked impossible to penetrate, as did its reinforced doors.

  Yet Bill Carson kept jabbing his spurs even though he knew the bank was virtually impregnable. His eyes darted from one shadow to the next as he led his four followers deeper into the sprawling town. The empty streets satisfied the merciless Carson as he glanced at the gigantic edifice.

  ‘Keep riding, boys,’ he growled.

  The five horsemen rode slowly past the massive structure and glanced at the ominous sight. Fargo was getting brighter with every heartbeat but Carson did not seem to be at all concerned. The confused riders who trailed the veteran bank robber considered the reason why the ruthless Carson continued to jab his spurs and turn into another side street.

  The Brand brothers glanced at one another and silently began to wonder why they were now riding away from the very thing they had travelled two days to rob. Amos Brand looked over his shoulder at Peters and Kane. They too could not understand what was going on.

  But no matter how curious they were they did not dare to question Carson’s motives or reasoning. They just followed and left the thinking to the lethal outlaw.

  Bill Carson turned up what appeared at first glance to be a dead end, yet the narrow lane led to a secluded street of four very expensive houses. Carson drew rein and stopped his mount as his gang flanked him.

  ‘What’s this place, Bill?’ Luke Brand asked as he surveyed the properties curiously. ‘Why’d we come here?’

  ‘I thought we were here to rob that back there,’ Kane added as he steadied his mount.

  Carson did not answer. He simply pulled out a long thin cigar and bit off its tail. He spat at the ground and then placed the black weed between his teeth. Then the outlaw struck a match and cupped its flame and sucked. When his lungs were filled with acrid smoke, Carson slowly exhaled and tossed the match at the sand before them.

  He pointed at the end house. ‘See that house sitting there, boys?’

  The four riders nodded.

  ‘What’s so important about that one, Bill?’ Kane asked.

  ‘A certain Stanley Hardwick lives in that fine house,’ Carson informed his curious men. ‘And Hardwick happens to be the man who owns that big red brick bank.’

  Peters rested his hands on his saddle horn and looked blankly at Carson. ‘That’s real nice, Bill. But why do we wanna know where that varmint lives?’

  Carson tilted his head, pulled the cigar from his mouth and tapped ash at the sand. A cruel smile etched his hardened features as he glared at Peters and then the others.

  ‘Hardwick don’t live on his lonesome,’ he said. ‘He got himself a wif
e and a fifteen-year-old daughter.’

  His men were still no wiser. They looked at their leader with bemused expressions. Carson shook his head and sighed heavily.

  ‘I happen to know this because a certain party told me all about the banker, boys,’ he explained. ‘Hardwick will do anything to save them females from being harmed. Now do you savvy?’

  ‘Who told you, Bill?’ Luke Brand asked.

  ‘The man who plans all my jobs for me, Luke boy,’ Carson sucked more smoke into his lungs. ‘A critter that I’ve never even met but he’s the smartest bastard this side of the Pecos.’

  ‘What’s his name?’ Kane wondered.

  Carson grunted with amusement. ‘I’ll tell you his name when the job is all done.’

  Peters steadied his mount. ‘I heard that they got themselves a pretty good bunch of star-packers in Fargo, Bill. What we gonna do when we have to face them critters?’

  The outlaw leader muffled his amusement.

  ‘I’ve bin told that they’re out of town, Poke.’ Carson grinned and concentrated on the house again. He looked at the affluent structure. ‘They’ve got a retired old lawman holding the fort. He ain’t gonna trouble us.’

  A sense of relief drifted through the men behind Carson’s wide shoulders. Amos Brand edged his horse closer to the older man and looked at Carson.

  ‘You mean that Kid Palomino ain’t in Fargo?’ he asked nervously. ‘That critter is said to have killed more lawbreakers than most. Are you sure he’s out of town with the sheriff, Bill?’

  Smoke drifted from Carson’s mouth. ‘I’m dead sure, Amos.’

  ‘Phew,’ the outlaw exhaled. ‘I sure didn’t hanker taking on Kid Palomino.’

  Carson gathered his reins in his gloved hands.

  ‘C’mon. We’ll tie our horses around the back of that mighty fine house and then pay Hardwick a visit,’ he said.

  The sound of spurs filled the quiet street as the five horsemen encouraged their mounts on toward the banker’s home.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Apart from the sound of distant roosters hailing the arrival of a new day, the five horsemen were totally alone in the quiet section of Fargo. The caravan snaked along the neatly maintained street and turned up behind the most imposing of all its houses. Carson was first to drop to the ground from his trail-weary horse and lash its long leathers to a white upright close to the rear of the banker’s home. As his gloved hands tightened the reins his underlings dismounted around their merciless leader.

  Bill Carson had learned long ago that it did not pay to have a regular gang of fellow outlaws. For even the best outlaws could and would betray their more famed leader given the chance. Each job required different skills and Carson always prided himself in choosing the right men for the right job.

  So it was as the first rays of the day raced across the cloudless sky above Dry Gulch. The seasoned killer of untold numbers of men, women and children checked his pair of matched Remington .45s and glanced at his men.

  His eyes were like emotionless ice. Their glare could cause most grown men to freeze when they focused upon them. The four hired guns he had recruited only a week earlier were no different. They each knew that Carson would kill any or all of them should he want.

  ‘Take off your spurs,’ Carson snarled quietly.

  The four dust-caked men behind his wide shoulders did exactly as they were commanded and placed their spurs in their saddle-bags just as Carson had also done. He gave a nod of his head and turned on his heels.

  The fearsome Carson led his men to the rear door of Hardwick’s home and grabbed the door handle with his left hand as his right clutched his six-shooter at hip level.

  The door was unlocked.

  A wry grin etched his face as Carson looked back at his four followers.

  ‘Folks are mighty trusting in Fargo, boys,’ he hissed. ‘Reckon it’s time we taught them how dumb that is.’

  The five hardened criminals entered quickly and spread out through the quiet house. None of the quintet had ever seen such obvious wealth before as they moved around the interior of Hardwick’s home. It was everywhere they looked. Expensive paintings adorned the walls and lush imported carpets covered the highly polished floorboards.

  Peters and Kane signalled to Carson that there was nobody on the ground floor as the Brand brothers glanced up the staircase like rabid wolves. The thought of the two females upstairs made both the depraved outlaws eager to get their hands upon them.

  ‘Wipe the drool from your mouths,’ Carson ordered the brothers. ‘You can have your fun when the time’s right and not a damn second before. Savvy?’

  Both Brand brothers reluctantly nodded. Their desires were not as great as their fear of the veteran outlaw. Even though they had never worked with Carson before, they both knew of his reputation and it frightened them.

  They nodded in silent obedience.

  Carson moved between Amos and Luke and pointed up the carpeted staircase to the landing.

  ‘Get them,’ he ordered. ‘Bring them down here and don’t go using them hog-legs. I don’t want any shooting to wake up this town.’

  ‘We don’t need our guns to round up a banker and his brood, Bill,’ Amos said as he placed a boot on the first run of the steps.

  ‘Get them,’ Carson repeated.

  As Peters and Kane moved back to the side of Carson, the Brand siblings slowly ascended the carpeted staircase. The thick pile of the carpet absorbed any sound of their hefty footwear. A few moments after the two men entered the bedrooms the noise of startled outrage filled the large house.

  ‘I still can’t figure out why we come here and not the bank, Bill,’ Peters said as he stared up at the landing. ‘Not unless this Hardwick critter has got himself a safe in this house.’

  Carson raised his eyebrows. ‘You’ll understand soon enough, Poke.’

  The noise of the younger female was the loudest but was soon muffled by the palm of one of the Brand brother’s gloved hands.

  Carson holstered his gun and listened with amusement to the activity up upon the landing as Amos and Luke rounded up the three members of the Hardwick family and began forcing them out of their bedrooms and toward the staircase.

  As the sound of startled adults and the child grew louder above him, Carson’s attention was suddenly drawn to the kitchen. His eyes narrowed.

  ‘What was that, Bill?’ Kane whispered.

  Carson said nothing as his eyes narrowed and focused on the rear door in the kitchen. He turned and moved quickly into the large cooking area as the rear door was pushed open and a well-rounded woman entered. Her arms were full of parcels of differing shapes and sizes as she waddled toward a table.

  It had not occurred to Carson that anyone as wealthy as Hardwick would have people working for him. His information had not gone into that sort of detail. The lethal outlaw pressed his back against the wall behind the rear door as the female shuffled across the tiled floor.

  Elvira Baker was a woman in her mid-fifties. She had worked for the banker as his cook and cleaner for nearly a decade. She knew her duties and nothing had ever interfered with them.

  Until now.

  Now her entire world was about to come crashing down.

  Elvira stopped and placed the groceries on to the rectangular table unaware of the intruders within the lavish house. As she placed the provisions on the table her attention was drawn to the muddy footprints on the tiles. Elvira stopped and stared at the floor in bewilderment.

  ‘I only scrubbed them tiles last night,’ she pondered as her mind raced. ‘Who on earth dragged in that mud?’

  The sound of the door being shut behind her filled her with a mix of fear and curiosity. Her eyes widened as she slowly turned around.

  The sight of the tall outlaw standing across the door sent a chill through her.

  ‘It’s a bad habit talking to yourself,’ Carson sneered. ‘I’m told they lock folks up in asylums for less.’

  Elvira’s eyes widened as she sta
red in horror at the figure clad in the long dust coat. He towered above her petite form. She was about to speak when she noticed the gun belt and the gleaming .45s hidden beneath the protective coat.

  The cook tried to swallow but it was impossible. Fear gripped her throat like a noose. She rested her hip against the table and tried to steady herself as fear washed over her startled shape.

  ‘Who are you?’ she managed to ask as her entire body shook with growing alarm.

  The hideous smile grew wider across Carson’s face. He began to approach her slowly. ‘It ain’t none of your business, woman.’

  Elvira’s eyes flashed. She turned and started to make her way across the kitchen. After only three steps she saw the ominous figure of Poke Peters blocking her way into the living area of the house. She abruptly stopped as Carson continued to track her every step behind her.

  She turned and looked up into Carson’s narrowed eyes.

  ‘Who are you?’ she asked fearfully.

  ‘I’m just someone who’s got business with your boss,’ Carson replied in a low drawl as he strode across the tiled floor and placed a hand on her shoulder. She looked up into his cold, calculating eyes as he smiled. For a moment the tone of his emotionless voice calmed her down.

  ‘The master never said that he was expecting visitors,’ Elvira stammered. ‘It’s awful early. He don’t get up this early unless it’s important.’

  Carson touched her chin. ‘He’s up.’

  Elvira stared into his hypnotic eyes. ‘He is?’

  The last thing she had expected was the long blade of a Bowie knife to be thrust up under her ribcage and twisted. A look of total disbelief washed over the face of Elvira Baker as the taste of blood filled her mouth. Carson moved his gloved hand and covered her face.

  Her eyes rolled upward.

  Carson pulled his knife free and then wiped the gore from its blade on his dust coat sleeve. The small female fell heavily on to the floor as Carson slid his knife back into its leather sheath. Within seconds a pool of blood spread out across the tiles. Carson stepped over the body and marched back toward Peters into the living area of the house.