Cotton’s Inferno

by Phil Dunlap

  “You were in on it, weren’t you?”

  “I, uh, s’pose. But it was all words, nuthin’ like really doin’ . . .”

  “You might as well stop there. All three of you were in on robbin’ the bank. Two of you didn’t make it out alive. Just because the others are dead doesn’t let you off the hook.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “Means you’ll be stayin’ with us until a U.S. marshal can come pick you up.”

  “Don’t I get a trial?”

  “If you want. The judge won’t be around for a couple weeks. Besides, the marshal will be takin’ you back to where the original wanted poster came from: Texas. Better get comfortable.”

  Stretch Callahan stared at the sheriff like he’d been handed a death sentence.

  * * *

  “Undertaker took ’em. Reckon they’ll be stood up in front of his place for a day or two, then he’ll plant ’em.” Jack said, as he glanced at the prisoner, who stood holding on to the bars with an iron grip. “What d’ya figure to do with him?”

  “If he behaves himself, he’ll get a trial back in Texas, and the judge will likely send him off to prison. If he doesn’t, maybe we’ll take him out back and hang him,” Cotton said, plenty loud enough for Stretch to hear. The reaction was instantaneous.

  “I ain’t never killed no one! You can’t hang a man for just thinkin’ on doin’ a robbery,” Stretch yelled from his cell.

  “I’d surely have a problem with that, indeed I would, but there’s no tellin’ what a bunch of liquored-up yahoos with a rope might conjure up,” Cotton hollered. “That was their money you were fixin’ to make off with.”

  “Then you gotta get me out of here. Take me down to Silver City or . . .”

  “Calm down. I’m not takin’ you anywhere. You’re as safe here as you can be.”

  Stretch thought on that for a minute before speaking again.

  “Uh, Sheriff, if’n I’m to be your guest, don’t that mean you gotta feed me?”

  Jack leaned over and whispered to Cotton. “He’s got a point. I don’t know about you, I’m thinkin’ I don’t want to wet-nurse this hombre for a couple weeks waitin’ on a judge.”

  Cotton scratched his head. Fact was, he didn’t favor the situation, either. Then an idea came to him. He got up and went back to the cells. He leaned against the wall facing Stretch and drew his Colt.

  “Here’s the lay of the land. You’re goin’ to answer some questions. For every one that’s a lie, I pop a cap into the cell. Now, you may not get hit, but on the other hand, you may. A stray bullet has a mind of its own.”

  Stretch began to perspire. “You-you can’t do a thing like that. It’s illegal.”

  “Or just an unfortunate accident.”

  “I, uh, wh-what is it you want to know?”

  “First question: you got any past trouble anywhere here in New Mexico?”

  “Why’d you want to know that?” Stretch said, a little hesitant with giving information to a lawman. “No-no . . . er, well, yes. We did sorta have a little trouble in Las Cruces.”

  “That was a close one. Wanna tell me what sort of trouble?”

  “There was this fella we’d tangled with one time before. He up and stole what was ours. Black Tom said if we ever run on him ag’in, we was to gun him. Spotted him in Las Cruces. ’Bout the time we was all fixin’ to draw down on the hombre, the sheriff stepped in. Told the other man to get the hell out of town. On his way out, he bumped into a Mex. Reckon his anger got the best of him ’cause he up and clubbed the fellow senseless. Then he mounted up and lit a shuck to hell an’ gone.”

  “Sheriff go after him? Get up a posse?”

  “No, sir. He just let him leave. I figured he didn’t want anything more to do with that gent. As I think on it, he may have just saved our lives that day.”

  “What was the man’s name?”

  “Can’t rightly remember, uh, Varmint or somethin’ like that.”

  “So what did you do to get you into trouble?”

  “We was broke, so we broke into a hardware store that night and took the cash drawer. Don’t know if there was a posse after us, either. Kinda felt like that sheriff didn’t really want to leave town much.”

  “Second question. You ever kill anybody?”

  “I never did. Never had the stomach for a killin’. But my brother, Black Tom, he had to put a couple fellows in the ground.”

  “Where was that?”

  “Missouri. Texas.”

  “Self-defense?”

  “Uh, not really.”

  “Then I reckon he got what was comin’ to him.”

  Stretch gave him a sad look. Dark circles of despair suggested he’d never been on his own and wasn’t sure he liked the way things were shaping up for him.

  “The wanted dodger I got on you three didn’t say anything about murder, just robbery. So until I figure out who to contact to come get you, you best get used to this cell, because you’re goin’ nowhere,” Cotton said. He walked back into the office, holstered his Colt, and sat down.

  “Get what you wanted?” Jack asked.

  “Got what I expected. I’d like you to go to the telegraph office and send for a U.S. marshal to come get this fool.”

  “All right, then what?”

  “The stage is due in an hour. Burnside’s nephew ought to be on it. After I’ve talked to him, we can make a decision about what, if anything, we can do with Carp Varner. That fellow still bothers me. And I need to talk a bit more about him shootin’ down those two Callahans. Can’t go lettin’ citizens gun down folks on a hunch.”

  “Pretty good hunch though, wouldn’t you say?” Jack said, with a smirk. “You figure there’s more to it?”

  “I’d bet on it.”

  Chapter 36

  Johnny and Rachael sat picking straw out of their hair. She leaned against one of the stalls while he sat with his legs curled under him. He was pensive. She looked over at him questioningly.

  “What’re you thinking about, Johnny?”

  “I’m thinkin’ we don’t have no idea where that rattlesnake Carp Varner headed. The road the Mexican lady said he took could take him to Lordsburg, Silver City, Apache Springs, even Albuquerque. Or he coulda cut back and gone to El Paso. It’s a big country out there.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “I don’t know, but I’ll come up with a plan somehow. One thing’s for sure, we better stay here for a while, at least until we find out where he likely went.”

  “We’re going to need more money than the three dollars you found in your pocket. That nice lady isn’t going to keep feeding us for free, you know.”

  “I know. I’ll have to scrounge around, see if I can get a job at one of the stores, or even here at the livery.”

  Rachael thought that over for a minute, then spoke up. “I’ll see if there’s anything I can do. No sense in you taking all the responsibility on yourself. And I don’t want to hear that girls can’t do anything, either. Understand?” She balled her fist in preparation for an argument.

  Johnny said nothing. Instead, he got up, brushed himself off, and took off for the big double doors at the front of the livery. On his way, he ran smack into the owner, Abe Olson, nearly knocking him over.

  “Whoa, there. What’re you in such an all fired hurry for?”

  “I-I got . . . to . . . uh, find a . . . job.”

  “A job? What do you need a job for?”

  “We are . . .”

  “Broke? That what you’re tellin’ me, boy? Can’t pay your bill for feedin’ that hay burner of yours, that it?”

  Johnny hesitated. “Well, you see, Mr. Olson, uh . . .”

  “Never mind. I got it.” Olson sighed and looked off, rubbing his chin whiskers. “Tell you what, son, if you’ll muck out the stalls, brush down horse
s when they come in, make sure there’s feed for all of ’em, you two can stay here, and keep your horse here, too. No charge. How’s that sound?”

  “Would it leave me enough time to find some other odd jobs so we can get enough together to eat?”

  “I suspect so. In the meantime, you can eat with me’n the wife, just till you find somethin’ else.”

  “Thank you, sir, that sounds fine. Mind if I go tell Rachael?”

  “You go right ahead. Then come on back here and we’ll get you started.”

  Johnny nearly stumbled over his own feet rushing to tell Rachael the good news. They wouldn’t starve after all.

  * * *

  Rachael stopped in the first shop for women she could find. There were several ladies picking up rolls of cloth, cards with buttons, and packages of needles. There was a whole display with spindles of thread, dozens of them. A lady saw her looking around and came over to her, arms crossed.

  “Is there anything I may help you with, young lady?” the woman said.

  “Uh, no, not exactly. I was just wondering if—”

  “If you could slip a couple of these pretty things in your pocket and rush out of here with them? That what you were wondering?”

  “Oh, no, ma’am. I was wondering if you might have need for some help in your beautiful store.”

  “I’m sorry, but I have no need of help. You best run along now. I suspect someone is waiting for you.”

  “Thank you, anyway,” Rachael said, disheartened and angry at being taken for a potential thief. I guess I don’t look very proper in these rags I’m wearing. Can’t blame the lady one bit.

  She left the store and wandered until she came to the hotel. At the side of the building a bedraggled woman came out of a door carrying a pan of soapy water and potato peelings. Rachael started toward her just as the lady tossed the pan’s contents on the ground. Some of the water splashed Rachael’s feet. The lady looked startled.

  “Oh, my dear, I’m so sorry. Bless me, sometimes I forget to look around before tossing the garbage. You come inside and wash off.

  “Thank you, ma’am. But I’m fine. I was on my way to see about some work, maybe in the kitchen, or serving customers. I’ve fetched for folks before,” she said.

  The lady looked her over for a minute. “Well, you look strong enough to handle being on your feet all day, but we’d have to put you in something more appropriate than that, er, whatever that is you’re wearing.”

  Rachael gave the lady an apologetic smile. The lady turned and motioned her inside. The back room was stuffed full of sacks of potatoes and beans. Cans of tomatoes, peaches, and pork and beans were piled high on shelving that ran the full length of one wall. On the opposite wall were baskets of eggs and carrots and sacks of flour. All that food made Rachael’s mouth water, something the lady picked up on immediately.

  “When was the last time you ate, child?”

  “Oh, just yesterday. A nice lady at a Mexican cantina fed us, my friend and me.”

  “That would be Mrs. Morales. Yes, she is a fine woman. But I suspect you’ll be needin’ more than an occasional meal to keep you goin’. You say you’re traveling with a friend?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Well, in exchange for two meals a day for the two of you, plus a little extra to take care of other things you’ll be needing, you may help out in the kitchen for a spell. After I see how you handle that job, and it is hard work, mind you, we’ll see about something more regular.”

  “Thank you, ma’am. When shall I get started?”

  “There’s a pile of dirty dishes in the tub. They need to be washed and dried for the evening meal. You’ll find a box of soap shavings on the counter and a kettle for boiling water on the stove. First, let’s put an apron on you, so you don’t get soaked with soapy water. Although, I must say, those duds you’re wearing look like they’ve seen better days.”

  Rachael. “Yes, ma’am, I reckon they do at that.”

  * * *

  Late that evening, two very tired young people huddled in a stall, barely able to keep their eyes open. Johnny had told Rachael about his arrangement with Mr. Olson, and Rachael had shared her story of how they were going to eat for the next few days, at least until they found a reason to move on. That reason, at least in Johnny’s mind, was finding out where Carp Varner had gone.

  Chapter 37

  For nearly two weeks, Johnny and Rachael had gotten up at dawn and begun their day. Each was filled with enthusiasm when starting out, but by late evening, both were worn clean to the nub. Rachael thought the skin on her arms and hands was going to turn as coarse as tree bark from being in water and harsh soap chips all day. And Johnny had had all he could take of manure and straw dust. He was coughing and sneezing constantly. They had, however, earned enough to keep them in food and a place to stay after they continued on their journey. All they were waiting on before setting out was information about Carp Varner’s whereabouts.

  Johnny thought about the prospects of finding the murderer and taking him down. His anger filled him almost to overflowing. It hadn’t helped that Rachael had told him on several occasions that hatred can eat a man up, make him unable to get past that dark poison that keeps you from being the sharpest you can be. In fact, Johnny was slowly beginning to realize just how right she was. His work, while satisfactory, wasn’t his very best effort. He knew it, but he couldn’t seem to get Varner out of his mind. Until the day a stranger came straggling into town late one day dragging a saddle and looking like he’d been trampled by a herd of cattle. His clothes were worn and dirty, the pants torn and faded from exposure to the intense sun. The man made it to the front of the livery before falling in a heap in front of the double doors, right where Johnny happened to be at that very moment. Johnny rushed to help him to his feet.

  “Sir, let me help you. You look like you could use a drink of water. Sit here on this bale of straw and I’ll fetch some from the well.”

  The man shuffled to where he could sit and fell awkwardly onto the straw. Johnny tried to hold his arm, uncertain whether the man could even sit unassisted. When Johnny returned, the man had taken his beat-up, dusty hat off and was fanning himself with it. The man’s face was red from too much sun, but his forehead and the top of his balding head were nearly white.

  “Here you are, sir,” Johnny said, handing him the cup. “You look like maybe you came from a ways off.”

  “Started out in Silver City. Had a horse, a revolver, and a rifle. Had a bedroll and saddlebags with food, too. Until that lanky son of a bitch throwed down on me and took everything I had. Told me I’d best start hoofin’ it or I’d likely die from sunstroke. Damned near did, too.”

  “Would you like me to go get the sheriff? He can maybe gather a posse and apprehend the rascal.”

  “Too damned late now. I’ve been on the road for a spell without a cent to my name and no way to pay for a ride on the stagecoach even if one happened by. Only one I got sight of was off in the distance just before he took the cutoff to Albuquerque. I couldn’t get his attention. Slept in a rancher’s barn and ate with his family for several days. Didn’t have the money to buy a horse from him, though. So, after a while, I started hoofin’ it here.”

  “That’s terrible. You sit there and rest awhile, and I’ll go fetch the sheriff. If you’d like more water, the well is just out back,” Johnny said. He scooted out of the livery before the man could object. Johnny knew the old man thought it had been too long since he’d been accosted for the sheriff to be of any help, but he had to try. Someone needed to try.

  He returned in about twenty minutes with the sheriff in tow. The lawman wore a rumpled pair of wool pants and a yellowed cotton shirt, spotted with stains of tobacco that hadn’t been spit hard enough or far enough to avoid blowback.

  “Here’s the gent I told you about, Sheriff. He looks to be in awful shape. Been robbed and left to d
ie in the desert, I reckon.” The sheriff nodded and stepped inside the dark barn.

  “Good day to you, sir,” the sheriff said, holding out his hand. The only reply he got was a weak attempt at a “howdy.” “Boy here tells me you were robbed out near the road to Albuquerque, that right?”

  “That’s the way it was, Sheriff. Took everythin’ I owned: my rifle, gun belt and revolver, saddlebags, and ever’ last cent I had to my name. Then he had the gall to shoot my horse so’s I couldn’t track him down.”

  The sheriff rubbed his whiskered chin and pushed his slouch hat back on his head. The look on his face suggested he didn’t intend on doing much other than listen to the man’s complaint and maybe jot down a few particulars. Mostly, that was so that in case something similar ever came up, he could say he’d heard of another instance that was just like it.

  “Reckon you best come on down to the jail and give me all the particulars. I’ll make note of ’em. Got no paper or pencil with me.” He started to walk away as Johnny helped the old man to his feet.

  “This jail very far, young man?”

  “No. Just a few doors down on the other side of the street. Think you can make it with my help?”

  “I’ll give it a try. Here, take my arm and steady me till I get my legs under me.”

  Johnny helped the man all the way to the jail. When they got there, the sheriff was already seated at his desk, had a piece of paper in front of him, and was licking the lead of a stubby pencil.

  “Have a seat and tell me what you can.”

  “Well, like I told this here youngster, I was comin’ from Silver City, bound for Las Cruces, when this tall, rangy feller rode up and asked if I had the makin’s. I said I did, and whilst I was fishin’ around in my pocket for the tobacco pouch, he up and throwed down on me. Told me to get my hands high or I wouldn’t see another dawn.”

  The sheriff was trying to keep up with the story he was being told, but he clearly couldn’t, since he had to stop every few words to remoisten his pencil. When the man stopped talking, the sheriff continued until he was up to where the old man had left off. He looked up and said, “I don’t suppose you could describe this gent, could you?”