Buzzard's Bluff

by William W. Johnstone; J. A. Johnstone

  “All right, then,” Ben replied casually, “which leg do you want it in?” He cocked the Colt again and prepared to shoot.

  “Wait a minute, damn it!” Billy blurted. “I’m goin’ to the damn tree.” He did as Ben instructed, walking over to the tree, dragging the rope behind him, then sat down facing the trunk. “The trunk’s too big. I ain’t gonna have no room to eat.”

  “It ain’t as big around as that horse’s belly. Set!” When Billy stuck his legs out, Ben took the loose end of the rope and tied it to his other boot. “Now you just sit there and rest while I do all the work.” He left him then to take care of the horses. When they were taken care of and left at the edge of the creek to drink water, he gathered wood for his fire. Once the fire was going to his satisfaction, he went to the creek, upstream from the horses, to fill his coffeepot.

  Billy could only sit there with his legs around the tree trunk and watch Ben prepare some breakfast for them. When it appeared to him that Ben was preoccupied with slicing off some of the bacon from the packs, he thought to make an attempt to free himself. He was sure he might be able to just reach the knot on one of his boots, even though his wrists were cuffed together. He watched and waited until Ben was halfway turned away from him as he situated his frying pan on a couple of burning limbs. When it appeared Ben’s attention was focused on getting the pan just right, Billy reached around the trunk, stretching as far as he could in an effort to get his fingers on the knot. He was almost there when he was suddenly startled by the sound of the .44 and a piece of bark ripped off the trunk just above his hands. “You’re actin’ like somebody who don’t wanna get fed,” Ben commented.

  “I was just tryin’ to ease my foot a little bit!” Billy insisted. “Wasn’t no need for you to go off half-cocked.”

  “Well, I’m fixin’ to bring you a cup of coffee in a minute or two, and that’ll ease you all over. I’m fryin’ you some bacon and hardtack. I know that’s what you like to eat, ’cause it came outta your packs. Next time we stop to rest the horses, you’ll know the drill, and maybe it’ll run even smoother.”

  “I reckon you’re gonna go arrest all the Rangers who’ve ever shot a prisoner after you’re done with me,” Billy remarked sarcastically.

  “No,” Ben said and paused, “just the ones who set up an ambush and wait to shoot me.”

  “You were damn lucky you came in the back door of that saloon, or you’d be dead right now.”

  “I was more lucky that you were ridin’ that Palouse geldin’ and tied him right out front, so I’d know you were waiting for me inside.”

  Billy just snorted in response, but he realized that it had been a clear case of his not thinking of that because he had been so anxious to shoot him. We’ve still got a day and a half of riding to do, he thought. He’s got to slip up somewhere between here and Austin.

  Once the horses were watered, fed, and rested, they got underway again, following the same trail Ben had followed when he had ridden to Austin to resign from the Rangers. They reached the stop for the night without incident and he had to wonder if Billy had really given up any ideas of escape. Too much to hope for, he thought as he prepared to get his camp ready. He was more particular about the placement of the camp for an overnight stay. For one thing, he wanted more trees in the event he needed protection, but also for the sleeping arrangement. He planned to tie Billy hand and foot when it was time to sleep and he needed two trees fairly close together. This was because he planned to tie his hands to a rope from one tree, and his feet to a rope from the other tree. That way, he could give his prisoner enough slack between the two ropes to permit him to lie comfortably, but not enough to let him reach his feet with his hands.

  While they were eating their supper, Billy, his legs tied around the tree, decided to try a different approach and appeal to Ben’s sense of honor. “I’ll admit I’ve done some bad things in my life, but one thing I’m proud of is I ain’t ever turned my hand against another Ranger.” When Ben jerked his head back in surprise at that statement, Billy was quick to explain. “Oh, I know what you’re thinkin’, but in the Ranger company I was trained in, it was a common practice to execute prisoners, if their crime had to do with killin’ or somethin’ that was gonna get ’em the rope for the crime. But one Ranger never turned on another Ranger. I know now that I done wrong when I came after you, but it was because I thought you was out to smear the name of the Texas Rangers. I ain’t got nothin’ against you no more. And as one Ranger to another, why don’t we just say we’re even? You go your way and I’ll go mine, and we won’t ever cross paths again. And the good name of the Texas Rangers won’t get drug in the dirt. Whaddaya say?”

  Hardly able to believe what he had just heard come out of Billy’s mouth, Ben didn’t answer him right away as he simply stared at him in amazement. It was such a surprising attempt by one so brazen and cocky, that he had to think a moment before answering. “Billy,” he finally asked, “do I really look that stupid to you?”

  The two of them stared at each other for a long moment before Billy shrugged and said, “What the hell? You never know, it woulda made things a helluva lot simpler. We’d split, I’d go one way, and you go the other and that woulda been the end of it.”

  “Except for the part where you sat waitin’ to ambush me when I walked in the Coyote,” Ben said. He shook his head in disbelief. “I gotta hand it to you, Billy, you’ve got one hell of an imagination. You’d best hang on to that in case they throw you in prison, instead of hangin’ you.”

  “To hell with you, Savage,” Billy responded, sliding back into his own skin. “You ain’t got me to Austin yet, so you’d best watch your step. I told you back yonder in that two-bit sheriff’s jail that I don’t plan to go to Austin and you can bet on that.”

  Still finding it hard to believe the man could threaten him in his situation, Ben couldn’t help pressing him. “If I untie you and hand over your gun, will you let me go free?”

  “Yes,” Billy answered him. “I’d let you go, and no hard feelin’s.”

  Ben looked at him as if seeing him for the first time. “You’re just as crazy as a coyote eatin’ locoweed. Finish that bacon, it’s time to put you to bed. Maybe your head will be straight again in the mornin’.”

  “I don’t want that bacon. I don’t need no food, and I ain’t gonna need no sleep, either. I’ll just stay awake and hug this tree while I watch you sleep.”

  Ben was beginning to think there was something mentally wrong with the man, so he tried to appeal to him logically. “The way I’m gonna tie you tonight, you’ll be comfortable enough to go to sleep and that’ll make the ride tomorrow a lot better for you.”

  “I’ll set right here. I don’t need no sleep, but I’ll be watchin’ you while you sleep.”

  “I reckon not,” Ben stated emphatically. “I think you’ve got your mind turned upside down. I’m the one callin’ the shots here, not you. So I’m gonna untie your feet so you can get up. Then I’ll tie you between this tree and that closest one there.” He nodded toward a tree about twenty feet away. “You understand?” Billy did not respond. He continued to stare at Ben as he bent down and untied the rope on one of his feet. “All right, get up.”

  Billy slowly got to his feet, his eyes cast down at his handcuffed wrists. When he was fully erect, he lifted his gaze to lock onto Ben’s, causing him to become immediately alert. Something was going on in the brain behind those eyes and it looked as if it was about to happen if he didn’t do something to prevent it. “We’ll get an early start in the mornin’, get into Austin early enough to get you settled for the night. They’ll fix you up with a nice bunk.” His attempt at civility had no apparent effect upon Billy, who continued to stare.

  Finally, he spoke. It was with a flat lifeless tone, void of emotion. “I ain’t goin’.” To the tree, or to Austin, Ben wasn’t certain, but before he had a chance to find out, Billy lunged at him, his handcuffed hands reaching for Ben’s throat.

  Ben easily stepped as
ide, stuck his foot out, and tripped the charging maniac. Looking down at Billy sprawled on the ground, Ben said, “That was a dumb damn thing to try. I coulda shot you just as easy.” Billy made no reply. Instead, he got up on his feet again, still with slow, deliberate movements to face Ben. “Now, you’ve had your little try, don’t make that mistake again.” Billy’s response was to hunker down like a charging bull and launch another attack upon him. Finding it hard to believe the man had suddenly gone crazy, Ben again stepped aside at the last second. But this time, instead of tripping him, he quickly shifted his six-gun to his left hand and met Billy’s charge with a hard-right fist flush on nose. The force of the blow laid Billy flat on his back, stunned once again by the bigger man. Ben watched him for a few seconds as he struggled to roll over in an effort to get up. It struck Ben at that moment! Billy was determined to overpower him or get shot in the process. It amounted to an attempt to gain his freedom, or to commit suicide by gunshot, a much quicker death than hanging. This was why he kept repeating that he was not going to go to Austin.

  Ben was torn between two different thoughts at that moment. Would it be the more humane between the two, to simply shoot him and put him out of his fear of hanging? He didn’t debate the issue very long before deciding. Like he had told Billy before, it wasn’t his job to punish. His job was to capture. Looking down at the stunned man, trying to gather his senses, Ben suddenly became angry. “You’re goin’ to trial, you sick puppy, but you ain’t gonna enjoy the trip.” Working quickly then, before Billy had time to regain his faculties, he tied Billy’s ankles back together again. Then he took the rest of the coil of rope and tied his arms against his body. Once he had him sufficiently hog-tied, he stood him up against one of the trees and tied him tightly against the trunk. “Now, damn it, we’ll turn in for the night.”

  The next morning, he found his prisoner sagging slightly, but still firmly bound to the tree trunk. He had to admit that he wasn’t in a much better mood than his captive. It had been impossible to get more than brief snatches of sleep, even though he knew Billy was secured to that tree. He left him there while he got the horses ready to travel. When they were saddled and ready, he went back to the tree to get Billy. He stood there a few moments, taking a look at his prisoner. He had been so put out with him during the night that he planned not to take any more chances with him. He was going to leave him bundled up and throw him over the saddle to ride the rest of the way to Austin on his belly, a distance he figured to be about forty miles. Looking at him now, sagging with fatigue, and dried blood all over his lips and chin, he had a change of heart. Just a weakness, I reckon, he thought. So he untied him and walked him to the creek where he let him drink and wash his face. There was not a word from Billy as he obeyed each order Ben gave him, getting down on his knees and washing his face with both hands still shackled. “I’ll feed you when we stop to rest the horses,” he said when he settled him in the saddle the same as he had the day before. “If you get any more ideas like you did last night, I will shoot you. But like I told you yesterday, I’ll cripple you, but I’ll be damned if I’m gonna help you commit suicide. They might not hang you. You might just have to spend some time in prison.”

  “You’re just the perfect goody-goody Ranger, ain’t you?” Billy responded.

  “I reckon so,” Ben replied, “and if you keep your mouth shut, I might let you take a leak before you climb on that horse.”

  In spite of Billy’s tendency to make smart remarks, he was surprisingly quiet after his unsuccessful attempt to jump Ben the night before. With the one rest stop for the horses, when Ben made coffee and cooked more bacon and hardtack, they reached Austin fairly early in the afternoon. Ben rode straight to the jail to turn his prisoner over to the sheriff to be held for trial. Deputy Sheriff Joe Farmer was on duty at the jail, and he knew Ben well. “I swear, Ben Savage,” Joe greeted him. “Whatchu doin’ back here in Austin? I heard you was in the saloon business in some little town up on the Navasota.”

  “I am,” Ben replied, “but it still looks like I’ve gotta do the Rangers’ business for ’em. I wanna drop this fellow off for you to keep till Captain Mitchell decides what to do with him. I’m gonna go see Mitchell now to tell him you’ve got him here in jail.”

  “Sure thing, Ben,” Joe said. “What did you arrest him for?” Ben told him the story behind Billy’s release from the Rangers and his attempt to kill him and warned him that Billy was dangerous. “I swear,” Joe remarked, “a Ranger, was he? That sure is bad.”

  “’Preciate you takin’ care of him,” Ben said in parting. As he walked past the cell Billy had been put in, Billy was standing up close to the bars and he gave Ben a parting remark. “I ain’t goin’ to no gallows,” he said softly.

  “Maybe not, Billy,” Ben returned and walked out the door with a wave of his hand to Joe Farmer.

  His next stop was Captain Randolph Mitchell’s office to deliver a report that would take the captain very much by surprise. “You brought in Billy Turner?” Mitchell asked in disbelief. “On what charge?”

  “Attempted murder,” Ben answered. When Mitchell asked who the intended victim was, Ben said, “Me, and I’ve got witnesses to back up the charge.” He went on to give him all the details that led up to Billy’s arrest. Mitchell decided the best thing to do would be to turn the case over to the U.S. Marshal Service and let them try it. “Makes no difference to me,” Ben said, “just as long as he’s not Buzzard’s Bluff’s problem anymore. We’ve got other problems to deal with.” That prompted Mitchell to ask how he was getting along in his new life as a saloon owner. “My partner is a very patient woman,” Ben replied with a chuckle, “and it’s a damn good thing ’cause I had no idea there was so much to runnin’ a successful business. And so far, it is successful.”

  “Good to hear it,” Mitchell said, even though he would have rather heard Ben say he was ready to come back to work for him full time. “You gonna stay in town for a while?”

  “No, sir. I’ve got some things I’m concerned about back in Buzzard’s Bluff, so I’m fixin’ to start right back before dark. I’ve got to leave Billy’s Palouse geldin’ and all his stuff at the stable, but if it’s all right with you, I’ll take the packhorse back with me. It belongs to Billy, but I didn’t wanna take two packhorses for that short a trip.”

  “I’ll write you a letter when I find out what they’ll do with Billy,” Mitchell said. “I know they let him off with a permanent suspension from the Ranger Service and a warning of prosecution if he was involved in any unlawful activity after his release. And it looks like this sure qualifies.”

  Ben left Mitchell’s office and took the horses to the stable where he told Fred Pritcher about the Palouse. “It sure is,” Ben replied when Fred commented that it was an unusual looking horse. “And Billy is kinda unusual, himself. I wanna leave Cousin and this packhorse with you for an hour or so. Figured I’d walk down to Coleman’s boardin’ house and see if they’ll let me eat with ’em one more time. I’d appreciate it if you would give all three of the horses a portion of oats, and I’ll pick up Cousin and the packhorse after they’ve had a chance to get a little rest.

  John and Bertha Coleman gave him a cordial welcome when he showed up at the boardinghouse and asked if he could buy a meal. Bertha was quite pleased when he said he had come there to eat because she served the best cooking in Austin. There were, of course, many questions about his venture into the saloon business, which he answered as briefly as possible. Most of the other people at the table were still in the dark about who he was. It amused him that it wasn’t much different when he had been living there, since he was gone for a majority of the time. When he figured the horses should be rested enough, he took his leave, promising to visit again the next time he was in Austin.

  By the time he had Cousin saddled and ready to go, he figured he had only two hours of daylight left, but he figured he’d rather get started back right away, instead of waiting until morning. He had a spot in mind about ten mi
les out of town where he intended to camp that night.

  CHAPTER 20

  Ranger Captain Randolph Mitchell heard the shots fired. His office was not that far from the city jail. Somebody’s having a little trouble, he thought. It was unusual to hear gunshots in the city of Austin. A short time later, one of the guards from the jail appeared at his office door. “Mr. Mitchell,” the guard reported, “Sheriff Cowan sent me to fetch you to the jailhouse. There’s been some trouble with one of the prisoners, and Sheriff Cowan says he’s a Ranger prisoner. He thinks you might wanna come to hear what happened.”

  “Damn,” Mitchell swore softly, knowing immediately it had to involve Billy Turner. That’s what I get for working late in the office, he thought. “Any of the sheriff’s men hurt?”

  “Well, no, sir, depends on what you call hurt—more like, are they in trouble,” the guard answered. “You’ll see what I mean if you’ll come down to the jail.”

  “All right, let me lock up here,” Mitchell said as he hurried to close his office for the day, then followed the guard out the door.

  When they got to the jail, Mitchell found Sheriff Pete Cowan and Deputy Joe Farmer in the office. As soon as he saw Mitchell, Sheriff Cowan immediately apologized for having to contact him. “I swear, Randolph, I’m sorry to have to call you down here for this, but we’ve had a little trouble with the prisoner Ben Savage dropped off here this afternoon.”

  “What kinda trouble?” Mitchell asked.

  “Well, he’s dead,” Cowan said and turned to look at Deputy Farmer, who stared back at the sheriff as if shaken. “Joe, here, was fixin’ to take him in some supper and he had to open the cell door ’cause he was carryin’ his coffee and everything on one tray. This fellow, Turner, acted like he’d gone crazy.” He turned to Farmer again and asked, “Ain’t that what you said, Joe?” When the deputy just nodded, Cowan said, “Tell Captain Mitchell what you told me.”