by J. Lee Butts
In about as short a tone as a body could muster, I added, "Get out of town for a few days. Don't go gunning for anyone else. Next time, we won't be forgiving enough to let you have three shots at a Texas Ranger before sending you to God."
My speech had no discernible effect on Hatch. He snorted like a mad bull and snapped, "I'll let you in on a little secret, Rangers. While I do appreciate my freedom, I ain't about to let any of Romulus Pitt's gang of cowboys and killers publicly heap insults on my head and then shoot me down like a rabid dog."
Boz got red in the face and was about to respond when I jumped in again. "My friend has given you some reasonable, and extremely charitable, instructions for future behavior, Hatch. I'll put it another way. Next time you shoot anyone in Iron Bluff, I'll personally kill you deader than a can of store-bought corned beef."
Hatch glanced up at me from buckling his pistol belt. "Better keep your attack dog on a leash, Tatum. I've been known to stomp pups like this one to death for a damned sight less than I've already heard."
He didn't slow me even a smidgen. "There won't be any friendly arrest and overnight jail stay next time, gunfighter. I'll personally see to it you're planted facedown, and deep, after I put enough holes in your sorry ass to read the San Augustine Times through."
Boz grabbed Hatch by the shirtfront and jerked the smart-talking assassin up, nose to nose. "Weren't for giving my word to your employer, I'd shoot you right here right now myself. Never could stand your kind of mean-mouthed jackass. Do exactly what we just told you. See your ugly face in less than three days, and you'll discover me and my attack dog don't make idle threats."
If either one of us scared him, I couldn't tell it. He smirked his way to the door and disappeared ahead of the insolent sound of jingling spurs. Heavy cloud of tension followed the murderous thug.
Boz shook his head. He leaned against the desk and said, "Might as well roust Clements out too. Never did have a real good reason to hold him anyway. Been thinking our situation over, Lucius. I've come to the conclusion, if we affect the balance between Tingwell and Pitt much, one or the other of them will find such a temptation too hard to pass up, and will surely take advantage of it. We could have a slew of killings in a heartbeat."
"Fine by me if you want to let him go," I said. "Root that scum out. Miss Black can have the whole back part of the jail to herself that much quicker. Best place for her, I think. Would be willing to bet Morgan Tingwell didn't let her go willingly."
Boz's head snapped up like he'd been slapped. "You're probably right. I hadn't thought of it quite that way, though. It would be easier to keep an eye on the girl, so long as she's close by. And the jail is much safer than a hotel room or boardinghouse."
"Ladies in town might gossip over their back fences some, Boz. You know how women can be—two men and a beautiful young girl, in a confined area and all. But I'd feel better if she stayed here with us. Morgan Tingwell looked just crazy enough to come try and take her back."
Boz smiled. "Better for you too. Ain't that right, Lucius?" Then he got thoughtful for a second before saying, "Well, it's decided. We'll keep her in the cell block. Make sure she's armed when we're out and about. Way this heap of stones is put together, it'd take an army with a six-pound cannon to get inside."
Clements acted right cheery when we opened his cell door and told him he could hoof it. Boz gave Romulus Pitt's anxious hireling pretty much the same message about future behavior. His response was as different as night and day from John Roman Hatch's. Nodded his agreement, tipped his hat, and hit the door running.
"That went well," I said.
"Don't let his contrite behavior fool you, pard. In addition to being a man-killer, Clements is a low-life sneak who'll say, or do, anything to make you think he wouldn't harm a fly."
"Sure didn't seem like that when I whacked him on the head in the Matador."
"That was before he understood we meant what we said. From now on Alvin Clements will require serious watching on our part. Think we should exercise warier behavior in the future. Right now, I feel Clements is more dangerous than ever."
"How's that?"
"Before you bounced your shotgun barrel off his head, he would have gone at either of us—toe-to-toe. Now we're gonna have to watch our backs."
Being as how the jail had emptied out, me and Boz set to work and fixed Miss Black a nicely appointed private area in the last cell. He got all fussy and allowed as how he wanted to make the girl as comfortable as possible.
We went at it like a pair of field hands on a mission. Hung blankets from the bars, brought in a small table and chair, washbasin, soap, towels, and such. Boz even stepped out for a few minutes and cut some flowers out of somebody's garden when they weren't looking. Never knew him to display such sensibilities before, but the arrangement that rough-as-a-cob Ranger put together in Marshal Stonehill's glass water pitcher looked right nice.
We had to wake Ruby and help her make the move. Lethargic steps made her look like one of those opium fiends after a binge on the laudanum bottle. Girl acted like she couldn't get her eyes opened. Collapsed right inside the cell door, before either of us could offer our assistance. I lifted her into a bed that we'd softened up with an extra mattress.
Boz arranged the skirts over her scuffed lace-up black boots, stepped back, and said, "Blasted, sorry damned shame. Can't wait to hear the story she's got to tell, but I'm damned if I'll press her on the thing."
"Why's that, Boz?"
" 'Cause if Morgan Tingwell had his way with this poor child, I'll have to kill the son of a bitch for damned sure. Wag would expect it. He'd never say it, but he'd expect it. Bet ole Bull wouldn't like me puttin' holes in his stupid son one bit, though."
Both of us thought we'd had enough excitement for one day. Course our feelings didn't mean a damned thing to Romulus Pitt. He came storming into town again, at the head of a mob of cowboys that appeared to have grown some since his first visit. We heard them rumbling toward us long before they arrived. Gave us plenty of time to get prepared for whatever the arrogant bastard had in mind.
When the Pitt gang thundered to a stop in front of the jail, we'd taken up spots on either side of the door, shotguns at the ready. Nick Fox rode between Eli and Pruitt Pitt. Alvin Clements was nowhere to be seen. Man proved smarter than I'd come to expect—at least in that instance.
The elder Pitt didn't waste any time with a shake and howdy. Sat his tall dun horse like a swelled toad. Got right to the point.
"Well, Tatum, hear you opened the door on Tingwell's hired killer early this morning."
"No point holdin' him, Mr. Pitt. Way most folks told it, leastways them we figured were impartial in their observations, Hatch didn't start the dance, merely finished it. Your men caused the whole thing. Those poor boys got dead of their own accord."
Before Romulus could respond, son Eli stood in his stirrups, shook a braided quirt at Boz, and said, "That's a wagon load of horse dung and you know it, Tatum. That villain murdered our men in cold blood. Our poor dead boys didn't have no more chance than a pair of snowballs in Reynosa during an August heat wave. Way I heard it, he gunned 'em down like dogs, before they could even clear leather."
I said, "Well, you heard it wrong, Eli."
Guess he didn't care for my assessment. Turned my direction and sniffed, "Wasn't talking to you, Dodge. If I want your opinion, I'll get down and beat it out of you."
Boz busted out laughing. His raucous reaction unnerved the tart-mouthed boy, and some of the others behind Romulus. The old man held a steadying hand out and waved his mouthy son into silence.
Boz said, "Listen to me, Eli. Climb off your animal for a dustup with Lucius, and I can guarantee your family will most certainly be attending a funeral tomorrow."
Whole scene got real tense and mighty quiet for a spell. Old Man Pitt fumed like a boiling pot jerked away from the fire. Finally he said, "I've had a bellyful of Bull Tingwell, his family of chuckleheads, and his hired killers. Hatch murdered two of
my men, less than fifty feet from where we are this very minute. Killed them right in front of my own saloon, for the love of God. If you won't do anything about this assassination, then I can assure you we will."
Boz let a moment of silence follow the angry man's overconfident pronouncement before he spoke. What he said came out slow, deliberate, and threatening. "Best careful up, Mr. Pitt. Murder is murder. Hatch was defending himself and we've got witnesses, some of your leading citizens in fact, who will gladly testify to that fact. You or your boys track him down and do anything stupid, rest assured we'll be coming for payment."
Pruitt Pitt, who'd been silent up to that point, growled, "Gonna take more'n two half-assed Texas Rangers to keep us from doing as we damn well please, Tatum. Hatch has been moved to the top of our list of our most hated enemies. We will find Hatch, and Pitt family justice will be served, whether you like it or not. Come on, Pa. No point talking any further with these jackasses."
Romulus Pitt slumped in his saddle as if hit by a wave of exhaustion. He glanced at Boz, then me, from under the wide brim of his palm-leaf sombrero and said, "Hoped you boys would see the circumstances differently. Since you can't, we'll go our own way regarding the matter."
Entire group wheeled their sweaty animals around and roared out of town in a cloud of swirling dust, barking dogs, and squealing kids who chased them down the street throwing rocks.
Boz turned to me and said, "Damnation, I'm glad that's over."
"You think they'll do what they've threatened?" I asked.
"Could be, but Hatch ain't the man to work such ill-reasoned silliness on."
"Way I feel too. How do you think they'll try to get at him?"
"Well, if Pitt, or his sons, confronts John Roman head-on, it'll be the biggest mistake they ever make. Be more likely Romulus will send someone, like Fox or Clements, out for an ambush. It's a hell of a lot harder to prove anything when there ain't no witnesses. That's why we've got to keep our eyes open. Wouldn't surprise me one bit if either family had similar plans for the two of us."
I fell into one of the cane-backed chairs near our front door. Said, "I'll take the first watch, Boz. While I'm sure you're right, it's gonna be a spell before I can get comfortable with it."
The rest of a gloomy Texas afternoon moseyed in hot, dry, and miserable. We took turns guarding the street from our chunk of boardwalk.
About six o'clock Ruby woke up. She freshened herself with a spot of water and soap. And from somewhere unseen, must have produced a bit of perfume. Delicate scent of lilac preceded the girl when she joined us in the office. I kept her company while Boz fetched a meal from Hermione Blackstock's café on the opposite side of the street from the jail.
Hermione called her ham-and-egg joint the White House Café. A pure exaggeration. Her place looked more like a made-over stable than our nation's capital. But, my God, that woman could cook. Hadn't been for Hermione, me and Boz would probably have starved to death during our stay in Iron Bluff.
Proper use of a knife and fork aided Ruby as she wolfed down most of a half-dozen eggs, a mound of bacon, four biscuits, a big gob of butter, a jar of muscadine jelly, and a pot of black coffee. I couldn't keep my eyes off her. She ate like a starving, but well-mannered, wildcat. Hell, I liked the way that beautiful gal made no effort to hide a healthy appetite. Her muscadine-tinted lips caused me to sweat like a man in a South Texas pepper-eating contest.
By the time she downed most of Hermione's rustic breakfast, that gal's cheeks got rosy again and she started acting like she felt a lot better. We waited until she'd almost finished before asking any questions. Ruby Black had one hell of a yarn to tell. Just hearing it was enough to make my flesh pimple up and crawl.
9
"SOMEBODY DONE WENT
AND LYNCHED 'EM"
PERSONALLY, DIDN'T THINK he had to do it, but Boz tried to soft-glove the starved girl into her story. She was still gnawing on a strip of bacon and piece of biscuit when he said, "Miss Black, we've got to ask you some questions about your whereabouts this past month or so."
"I understand. And you may call me Ruby, Ranger." She swallowed daintily before issuing those instructions. Then the famished girl wiped sensuous lips on the back of her hand, threw a coy glance up at me, smiled, and went back to her meal.
Naturally, I wanted as much of her attention as could be had, so I said, "I'm Lucius Dodge, miss. My friend's name is Boz Tatum. Where'd you meet Morgan Tingwell, Miss Black?"
She flicked crumbs from the corner of her mouth and said, "Pleased to make your acquaintance, gentlemen. Morgan boarded my stage in Louisiana. In Alexandria, I believe. My traveling companion was taken ill in Baton Rouge and could not continue the trip. I decided to make do, and continue alone."
Boz scratched his beard. "A bit bold for a young lady in a strange place, wasn't it?"
A marked look of amazement flashed across her face. She placed both hands in her lap, smoothed the wrinkles out of her dress, and spoke to Boz as though he might still wear short pants. "I am a Texas woman, and have made the journey to and from New Orleans several times before, Ranger Tatum. There has been no problem in the past. I could foresee no reason to suspect anything like the events that occurred."
She appeared on the verge of a lecture. I said, "We mean no disrespect, Miss Black. You must admit, however, it is somewhat unusual for a young woman of your social status to have continued without the company of a chaperone."
My fumbling efforts just irritated her even more. "I will admit to no such thing. I can take care of myself, Ranger Dodge. At the age of six I fought Comanches beside my father on our ranch west of Waco."
"Be that as it may, you didn't do very well in this instance." Boz tried to soften the truth of the matter as much as he could. She let the gentle slap pass and went back to her victuals.
"Did he make unseemly advances?" Had no enthusiasm for hitting her with that particular question, but figured if I didn't, Boz would.
"He did not, sir," she snapped. "Morgan Tingwell was a perfect gentleman, despite the fact that we traveled with no other company for the last fifty miles before reaching Iron Bluff."
"Well, then, how did you end up wherever you've been for the past month?" Boz was beginning to get impatient and you could hear it in his voice.
"While a perfect gentleman on the stagecoach, I must admit Mr. Tingwell lied like a yellow dog. The stage makes an overnight stop at the hotel here in town. He invited me to spend that time at his family estate, and assured me his mother and sisters would see to my every comfort."
I couldn't help but snicker. "He called that nightmare a family estate?"
She stopped fiddling with the food, stared at her hands, and twisted the front of her dress into a knot. "Yes. But I had no reason to disbelieve him. When we met, he'd been to New Orleans on business." She got kind of flustered and blurted, "He was well dressed and displayed perfect manners, I can assure you. I would not have gone with him otherwise."
Boz glanced at me. "Hard to believe the Morgan Tingwell we're familiar with is the same man—very hard to believe."
A heavy sigh escaped before she could hold it back. "Well, he proved totally undependable. Mr. Tingwell rented a hack from the local smith. When we arrived at that outlandish hodgepodge he called an estate, gentlemen, I must admit, I almost passed out. Before I could do anything to save myself, he grabbed me by the wrist and dragged me inside his clan's hideous cave of a dwelling."
"His parents didn't do anything to help you?"
My question drew a sharp-eyed look that should have taken my head off. She snapped, "As soon as we got past the front door, he announced to the entire witless tribe that he'd found the woman of his dreams and would keep me in spite of hell, high water, or any objections they might harbor. Said he planned to make me his wife and have children as soon as possible. My God, his impudence knew no limit. And worse, his idiot parents were pleased as punch."
Boz tried to calm her with what I felt was an easy question, but perh
aps the most important of all. "Did the Tingwells cause you any bodily harm?"
"No, my good sir. No one laid an unkind finger on me." She sounded tired when she said it.
Her answer surprised me a bit. So I got a tad more forceful. "Then how did they manage to ensure your captivity?"
Took a spell before I got an answer to that one. Finally she looked up at me and said, "Morgan's mother and three sisters watched me day and night. One of them slept near me in a dungeonlike room the entire time they held me. The outside of their home is hideous, but can't hold a candle to the inside. Put me in mind of a realistic description of hell on earth. It wasn't what they did, so much, as what they implied would happen if I tried to escape."
"How's that, Miss Ruby?" I asked.
"Well, as an example, the day you came to the ranch, I watched the entire scene from inside. Mother Tingwell told me if I cried out, her boys would kill both of you. Morgan's sisters took turns reinforcing her warning."
Boz pushed it even harder. "Was that the first time they threatened you?"
"Sweet Merciful Father, no. I'd heard similar words of coercion, two or three times a day, since my arrival. That particular threat didn't involve any physical harm to me, but would have left the painful weight of your deaths on my heart, until the moment of my own passing. I could not cast dice with your lives and cry out, for fear they would make good on the threat."
Boz stood, pushed his chair away from the desk, and said, "I've listened to enough of this for one day. Don't know if there's anything we can do unless you want to press charges against them for false imprisonment. Given where we are, though, any legal action you take might be hard to make stick, since you went with Morgan and didn't attempt to escape. Doesn't sound too good, does it?"
Her chin dropped to her chest. "Yes, Ranger Tatum. I see exactly what you mean." Then her head snapped up and she said, "I would prefer that what transpired regarding the Tingwells and me never see the light of day. Courtrooms, trials, and newspaper headlines are not something I want in my future. Such events would be an agonizing embarrassment to my family."