“Oh?”
“Yeah, it’s sorta funny.”
“How’s that?”
“Here, have a look for yourself.”
Marty quickly read the yellow sheet of paper containing the telegram’s response for his reward. He looked up at Jesse with a frown. “They want me to bring Graham all the way in to Carson City? That’s different. I wonder what’s goin’ on.”
“I can’t rightly say, Marty. Never had that request before. Let’s mull it over while doin’ justice to that steak you was talkin’ about.”
Over their meal the two lawmen considered the reason behind the strange order to deliver the outlaw. Always before, Marty had only to find the nearest sheriff and receive a verification of capture to collect any reward.
“One nice thing about it,” Jesse announced, “I needed to get McNeal to Carson City anyways. Now you can deliver ’em both for me.”
“Now, hold on, Jesse. Dadgummit, I hadn’t planned on traipsin’ around the countryside trying to deliver outlaws to somewhere else.”
“I’ll get you a delivery fee. It’ll pay for your time and expense of deliverin’ ’em down to Carson City. I don’t see no way you’re gonna get any reward money without doin’ like the telegram says, Marty. They got ya stuck twixt a hoof and a horseshoe.”
“When do you think I could get under way? I hate to waste my time and money just hanging around Reno.”
“I’ll have the sawbones check out Graham tomorrow. He’s most likely about recovered from the rigors or yur bringin’ him in all shot up like ya did.”
The rest of the meal Marty grumbled in frustration about the demand made by the law in Carson City. He saw no way of refusing without perhaps losing the reward money on Graham. He needed the funds to continue his quest, and he resigned himself to the additional burden.
Marty was at the jail the next morning to hear for himself what the doctor had to say about Graham’s ability to make the trip on down to Carson City. The silver-haired sawbones was adamant. “Two more days of rest fer him, Sheriff. I can’t allow any travelin’ by the prisoner prior to then. I’ll come on by Wednesday and certify him for release Thursday mornin’.”
Jesse rolled his eyes and looked over at Marty. “There ya have it, Marty. I’ll order out a wagon and supplies for ya to leave Thursday morning.”
“I’ll collect the both of ’em at seven, Jesse. I wanna be in Reno before dark on Friday.”
Jesse turned his gaze to his deputy, a lanky, light-haired man with a large nose and receding chin. “You heard the man, George. Have a wagon outside the office at seven on Thursday mornin’. Have two days’ water and rations packed and tell the smithy to bolt a pair of rings to the wagon bed. That way Marty can chain ’em down so they won’t be no trouble on the trail.”
“Gotcha, Sheriff. I’ll be there.” The deputy ambled out the door, followed by the doctor.
“Damn,” Marty snorted again for the hundredth time. “This sure burns my hide. I was plannin’ on leaving for California as soon as the reward money arrived.”
“You can cross over from Carson City. There’s the Mormon Pass that comes out at the south end of Lake Tahoe. It’s a right pretty trip, believe me. You end up in Hangtown and it’s only a day’s ride on to Sacramento from there.”
“Well, I guess I’d better check on Pacer and pick up some supplies for the road. I’ll see you for dinner tonight?”
“Same time, same place, old chum. Now git goin’. I got a ton of paperwork piled up to finish before my noon meetin’ with the city council.”
Chapter 8
Unwelcome News
Vern Barton was standing in the shade of his porch, talking with Charlie Call, when he paused to watch a galloping rider burst out of the tree line and head directly toward him as if the rider were running from a mad longhorn. As the rider pulled his sweating, panting horse to a sliding stop and swung off the saddle, Vern wondered if he was going to be run down by the hurrying rider. He held up his hands in a defensive posture. “Hold on there, Slim. What the hell’s got you so riled up?”
“Boss, I was in Reno to git my saddle fixed when I saw some hombre bring Luke Graham offa the train and march him over to the sheriff’s office. Luke was all bandaged up like he’d been shot.”
Vern pursed his lips and stroked his bushy mustache with his forefinger. “Damn the luck, that’s unwelcome news. I shoulda sent you out to take care of him before, Charlie. Mike and Sailor screwed it up but good.”
Charlie nodded but kept his mouth shut. He had been on the receiving end of Vern’s blowups in the past. He would prefer to avoid another if he could.
Unfortunately, it occurred to him that maybe everything had been going too smoothly lately. He had the perfect job and wanted it to stay that way. He could indulge in his larcenous desires, had plenty of spending money, and Vern left him alone to run the ranch as he saw fit, as long as there were no problems.
Vern nodded at Slim. “Thanks fer the info, Slim. Get on over to the corral and take care of yur hoss. It looks like you ’bout ran him to death gittin’ here.”
“Sure enough, boss. I’ll grab a bite from Cookie while I’m at it. I rode outa Reno without gittin’ any noon chow.”
Vern turned away from Slim and looked toward the blue mountains to the west. “Charlie, where’s Mike and Sailor?”
“I’ve got ’em watchin’ the stage depot in Carson City, boss. You told me to keep an eye on it in case O’Brian tries to sneak out a run to Virginia City, remember?”
“Of course. Maybe it’s just as well we don’t involve them in this. Send Slim back to Reno. Tell him to find out what he can about Luke. I’ll bet they try and take him to Carson City to stand trial, don’t you? Maybe we can free him up when they do, if not before.”
“We maybe oughta wait until they move Luke, boss. That Sheriff Longabaugh is a pretty tough nut and the jail is right in the middle of town. It might cost us some men to ride in and bust Luke out.”
Vern scuffed the dirt at his feet with the toe of his boot. “Yu’re probably right, Charlie. But we gotta make certain Luke don’t git to Carson City and spill the beans about us to the law.”
Charlie nodded in agreement. “I gotcha, boss. Let’s see what Slim finds out first. Then you can decide what ya want me to do.”
Vern and Charlie walked over to the kitchen, where they saw Slim wolfing down a bowl of stew from the leftover noon meal. The two outlaws sat down on either side of him and accepted a cup of coffee from the diminutive Cookie.
“Slim, I want you to go back to Reno and nose around. Find out what the law plans on doing with Luke Graham and when. We’re gonna have to get him outa their hands, one way or t’other.” Vern sipped his coffee and waited for Slim’s reply.
“Can do, boss. The jail in Reno sits next to an alley. I reckon I could sneak back there tonight and have a gabber with Luke. Hopefully he knows what’s goin’ on.”
“Ya don’t think he’s dyin’ from his wound, do ya?” Charlie asked from across the table.
“Naw, the bandage was all around his arm, best as I could see.” Slim shoved the last of his meal into his mouth and chewed noisily, then washed it down with a gulp of coffee.
“Could ya get a clean shot at Luke from the alley?” Vern asked. He looked at Slim to gauge his reaction.
“Maybe, I ain’t certain. It’d be the easiest way, wouldn’t it?”
“And worth a hunnerd dollars to me,” Vern replied. “That don’t cause you no heartburn, does it?”
“Nope. I ain’t a chum of Luke nohow. I’ll give it a try. There’s an alley behind the jail and the only cell in the jail has a window that looks out over the alley. I was in there once fer fightin’ and bein’ snoot-faced in public. It’s way high on the back wall, but a body could reach it iffen he stood on the bunk. If I could git Luke to stand on somethin’ and look out the window, I could plug him easy. If I can’t, I’ll find out all I can and git back here so’s we can try somethin’ else.”
“And, Slim,” Vern cautioned, “we don’t want this gittin’ out to any of the boys, so keep yur mouth shut, okay?”
“Fer a hunnerd dollars, boss, my mouth is sewed plumb shut tight.”
Charlie escorted Slim to the barn to pick up Slim’s horse for the return to Reno. “Don’t take stupid chances, Slim. I don’t need you in the hoosegow either. Iffen ya can’t git Luke at the jail, we’ll git him on the road to Carson City. They’re bound to have to take him there, since that’s where the reward was registered. All we gotta do is find out when they’re goin’.”
“Understand, Charlie. You can count on me. Just make sure I git a chance to earn that hunnerd dollars.”
Charlie slapped Slim on the back. “Ya can count on it, Slim. Now git a-goin’ and use yur head fer somethin’ more than just a hat rack.”
Slim made the four-hour trip back to Reno counting the ways he was going to spend the hundred dollars he would earn for shutting up Luke Graham permanently. He did not like the loudmouthed outlaw anyway, so it was no big loss, at least as far as Slim was concerned.
Slim’s bay was still tired from the quick trip to the ranch, three hours of hard riding from Reno. Slim let the weary horse set his own pace and continued to fantasize about pleasurable things, like the new Chinese gal at Ruby’s Cathouse in Virginia City.
He arrived in Reno after sundown, and enjoyed the next hour wetting his parched throat and filling his belly at the Emporium Hotel’s café, his favorite eating establishment in the booming railroad town. After an enjoyable after-dinner whiskey at the Palace Saloon, he walked past the sheriff’s office and ducked into the alley behind the lockup area of the jail. A barred window was set into the adobe wall about ten feet off the ground.
Slim tossed small pebbles at the bars until he saw a pair of hands wrap themselves around two of the bars and a dark shape of the top half of a man’s head was visible through the bars. “Who’s out there?” a soft voice inquired.
“It’s Slim Pickett. That you, Luke?”
“Naw, Luke’s got a bum arm. He can’t pull hisself up. I’m in the same cell with him. Just a second.” The man disappeared and then returned in a few moments. “Luke says he knows ya. Whaddya want?”
Slim cursed his bad luck. It was obvious he would not have a chance to plug Luke at the window. “Tell Luke that Vern is gonna git him out. Does he know if they’re gonna take him to Reno to stand trial?”
“Yeah,” the voice whispered back. “Me and him are goin’ down to Carson City with Keller, the bounty hunter, on Thursday mornin’. We’re supposed to leave around seven o’clock.”
“You gonna ride horses?”
“Naw, they got a wagon fer us to ride in, with a ringbolt to chain us to the floorboard. Bring a hack-saw when you come fer us. And don’t forgit to bring horses. We’ll not want to walk out there.”
“Okay. You tell Luke that Vern said not to say nothin’, he’s gonna git him outa jail.”
“Luke and me understand. We’ll keep our mouths shut fer the time bein’. You just be sure you break us free afore we git to Carson City. They got a solid jail there. And tell Vern that Luke says he’s got a lot he could say iffen he was of a mind to.”
“I’ll do it. You two just rest easy. We’ll see ya on the road to Carson City Thursday. Do ya know if any other deputies are goin’ along on the trip as guards?”
“I heard the sheriff talkin’ to the bounty hunter. ’Pears he’s takin’ us alone.”
The head dropped away from the window. Slim walked out of the alley and headed back to the Palace, where he drank and played cards for a couple of hours, then went to the livery and curled up in the hayloft next to several other sleepers. He rode back to the ranch early the next morning and reported on his conversation with the jailed men.
“Talks mighty tough, don’t he? Especially fer a man who got hisself caught within a week of goin’ on a wanted poster.” Vern worried his mustache, as he was want to do when he was agitated. “Two of ’em, huh?” Vern mused. “Do ya think this other fella would be any help once we spring the ambush?”
“I think so, but if they’re chained to a ringbolt in the floorboard, there ain’t much they’ll be able to do,” Slim answered. “One thing fer certain, though. If we can’t break ’em free, they’ll make fine targets, chained in the wagon like they’ll be.”
“I expect you’ll be able to knock off the deputy and free ’em without that. But iffen ya can’t git to ’em, do jus’ that.”
Slim stabled his horse and spent the rest of the day relaxing in the shade. He huddled with Vern and Charlie after supper, while they discussed the best way to ambush the lawman and his prisoners.
“There’s a good spot to hit the fella just after he crosses the dry wash at the top of Low Creek Ridge. You know where I mean, Slim? Where the road cuts through the dry wash at the top of the hill.”
“Yeah, I think so. We can ride out there tomorrow and have a look at it. There’s high ground up the rise, ain’t there?”
“Yep. We’ll have good cover too. There’s plenty of trees growin’ there. Big pines, so there won’t be no ground clutter to get in the way of our aimin’.”
“The two of ya be enough fer the job?” Vern asked.
Charlie shook his head. “I don’t think so, Vern. I think I’d better ask Joaquin to come along. There might be someone ridin’ along with the lawman. Three of us’ll make the odds a lot better.”
“And cost me more money,” Vern grumbled. “Still, best to be certain, rather than sorry. Will he keep his trap shut about it?”
“There ain’t no doubt about that,” Charlie reassured the outlaw leader. “He’s pretty quiet around the boys anyways. I’ll make sure he knows to keep his yapper shut. Ya know,” he observed, “Luke didn’t make much in the way of friends while he was here.”
Vern nodded. “Make certain Joaquin understands that I want a tight lid on what we’re a-doin’,” he answered. “Okay, that’s it. You two go out there tomorrow and check over the spot where ya want to set up. I don’t want no slipups on this. We git Luke or we shut him up. Permanently.”
The next day Charlie and Slim scouted the proposed ambush site. It was even better than they had hoped. The high ground looked down on the road, which cut its way through the loamy soil at the top of the rise, ensuring that the wagon would be moving slowly. The towering pine trees provided plenty of cover, and three men spread out in a line would make it almost impossible for one man to escape their fire, should their initial shots fail to knock him out of the saddle. “If we wait till he just comes outa the draw, we’ll be all over him afore he can even think about drawin’ his six-gun.” Charlie chortled in satisfaction.
The two outlaws rode back to the ranch and met with Joaquin after supper. Smoking a thin cigar while drawing with a slender stick in the dust by the bunkhouse, Charlie put the hard-eyed Mexican gun hand into the picture. Slim chimed in with his comments as Charlie finished his explanation.
“We’ll space out enough that we should be able to cover anything the deputy tries, if we don’t git ’em on the first volley. Ya ain’t got no problem pluggin’ Luke iffen we can’t git him freed, do ya?” Charlie puffed on his slender cigar while he watched Joaquin’s expression and awaited his answer.
“Hell, Charlie,” Joaquin answered in his heavily accented English, “I’d keel a half dozen just like Lukie for a hunnerd dollars.”
Chapter 9
Deadly Ambush
Marty walked out of Sheriff Jesse Longabaugh’s office followed by a shackled Luke Graham sharing a leg chain with McNeal, who was cuffed just as securely. Jesse followed, squinting as he stepped into the bright sunlight. Jesse’s deputy was already in the wagon bed, ready to attach the leg irons to the two ringbolts mounted into the reinforced floor of the wagon.
The two prisoners sullenly climbed into the back of the wagon and sat down, one on either side of the two ringbolts. The outlaws were quickly secured and the wagon was ready for travel. Marty tied P
acer’s reins to the rear of the wagon and stepped back on the boardwalk to shake Jesse’s hand.
“Thanks for all your help, Jesse. I certainly appreciate it.” Marty offered his hand.
“Take care of yourself, Marty.” Jesse pumped Marty’s hand up and down. “You were a big help to me and I’m grateful. You just stay on the road all the way to Carson City. There’s a good campsite at Mormon Station, and you should git there just before sundown. When you git to Reno, tell Sheriff Schrader I said to cut you some slack, you ain’t near as bad as your reputation makes ya out to be. That note you’re carrying for me oughta help you out a mite.”
“I appreciate it, Jesse. Thanks again for everything.” Marty climbed up onto the wagon and settled into the driver’s seat. He checked the pair of shackled men sitting glumly on the wagon floor behind him, their faces reflecting the misery they were experiencing. “You jaspers ready to ride? Hold on, here we go.” He slapped the reins against the rumps of the two horses hitched to the wagon tongue. “Giddyup, you two. We’re got a long haul this day, so start movin’.” He drove the wagon with his prisoners out of Reno, turning to wave at Jesse at the end of Main Street.
Luke started complaining about the uncomfortable ride before they had gone a quarter mile down the road. “Damn it, Deputy, slow down a mite. We ain’t sitttin’ on a seat like you are. This here wagon bottom is tossin’ us around like salt in a shaker. My butt’s already sore as a boil.”
Marty called out over his shoulder at Luke, “Mister, let me make something perfectly clear. I don’t give a good gosh damn if your guts shake clear out your ass. You keep your mouth shut or I’m gonna chain you behind this here wagon and you can walk to Carson City. You catch my drift?”
“Well, hell, don’t git so uppity. I was jus’ tryin’ to ask politelike fer some paddin’ to sit on. Do ya have any objections to us usin’ our bedrolls as cushions?”
Marty chucked the reins against the rumps of the team again. “Do whatever you like. Just shut your mouth and keep it shut. I don’t want to spend my day listening to you two skunks.”
Stagecoach Graveyard Page 7