“I’ll want to stop in and see my father while we’re there,” Sandy said.
“I understand. You’ll just need to be brief, cause your friend could be hung at any time,” Blye reminded him.
“What’s the plan?” Tom repeated louder.
“It’s simple,” said the marshal. “I’m gonna march you boys right up to him and hand you over.”
* * *
“Wake up.”
Luke groaned, disoriented as he struggled to regain consciousness. His body hurt all over. His limbs felt as if they weighed a hundred pounds each. His eyes fluttered, but wouldn’t open. He decided to fall back asleep and try again later.
“I said wake up!”
A bucket of cold water hit him with shocking force. Luke coughed and sputtered, his ribs crying out with each contracted breath. He sat up, his eyes open.
His vision started out blurry, but slowly came into focus. Bars. Luke blinked. He was in a cell, sitting on a thin mattress on a wooden cot.
“There you are up and ready for a new day.”
Luke shook his head slightly, though that hurt too. He knew that voice. He hated that voice. His vision sharpened and he saw the man standing outside his jail cell. Memories rushed back to him.
“Morning, Sheriff. How’s your jaw?” Luke asked.
“Tender,” Jeb Wickee replied. “How’s your . . . everything else?”
“Been better,” Luke admitted. “But it was worth it.”
“Hmm,” Jeb said and Luke noticed that the sheriff held Bobby’s Colt in his hands. The way it shone in the lamplight reflected patterns of light onto the man’s face. Luke could just make out the bruise he had given the man. “I love this gun. You know I wanted it ever since Bobby showed it to me the first time?”
“Not surprised,” Luke replied, shifting so that he didn’t put so much weight on his right hip. “You always were envious of Bobby weren’t you? Is that why you betrayed him?”
The sheriff didn’t acknowledge his jab. “You know why I didn’t just wear it myself after he was dead?”
“Guilt?” Luke suggested.
Jeb chuckled. “No. The problem with this gun is it has a conscience. Doesn’t want to kill unless it feels someone deserves it.” He pointed it at Luke and aimed down the sights, his finger on the trigger. “It resists me. It’s as if Bobby’s still guiding it even now.”
Jeb lowered his hand, twirling the gun on his finger before shoving it into the holster on his gun belt. “I think I’ll keep it around with me from now on, though. Folks around here know to fear it. Besides, most of ’em deserve to be shot. If it ever disagrees with me, I’ll just use my shotgun.”
“Figured as much,” Luke replied.
“Where’s the rest of my money?” the sheriff asked.
“Spent it.” When they’d caught him, Luke only had about three thousand in cash left in his saddlebags. He’d been using it to bribe the outlaws that didn’t like Jeb. He’d been hoping to build up a resistance, but he’d just gotten himself caught. He wished he’d left it in Luna Gorda. Maybe given it to Tom’s family.
“Where are your friends?” Jeb asked.
Luke knew the question was coming. “Tom’s in Florida. Sandy’s in California somewhere. He talked about San Francisco, but I’m not sure exactly where. They’re both just so fond of the beach.”
“Do you know what’s going to happen to you?”
“You’re going to bring me a nice steak?” Luke suggested.
“You’re going to hang,” he said.
“Oh,” Luke said. “Boring.”
“Boring?” Jeb laughed. “It’s going to be a relief. Because we are going to beat you every day until you tell me where my money is and where the other Red Stars are hiding. You are going to be happy when I slip El Estrangular around your neck.”
“It already sounds better than listening to you,” Luke replied. “Can we do it today?”
“Enjoy your little verbal rebellion. Don’t think you’re going to be able to trick me into killing you early,” Jeb sneered.
“You’ll wish you had. Because I’m promising you right now, the last thing you’re gonna see is the smoking barrel of my gun,” Luke swore and for a brief moment as Jeb’s eyes met his, he was certain he saw fear.
The sheriff sighed and drew Bobby’s gun again, spinning it before sliding it back into his holster. “I’ll give you a few more hours to recover before I return with more Black Spots to beat you again.”
“Looking forward to it,” Luke said as the man walked out of the jail and into his office, shutting the door behind him. Luke looked into the next cell and saw the Stranger sitting there with a lit cigar. “Thanks for the help there at the end. I think he felt that.”
The Stranger blew a smoke ring. “He’s probably right. This is most likely the end for you.”
Luke leaned back, wincing at the pain in his shoulder as it bumped the wall. “You giving up on me?”
“You didn’t listen,” he said, blowing a second smoke ring through the first. “I told you not to fight him alone. You should have waited for your friends.”
Luke would have laughed if it wouldn’t have hurt so bad. “You’re always telling me to go it alone. You tell me they hold me back.”
His next smoke ring was wreathed in fire and as it passed through the other two, they too became engulfed in flames. “That’s also true. Together the three of you can accomplish great things. But when you are around them, you become softer. One day, to reach true legendary status, you will need to forsake them altogether.”
The Stranger chuckled. “But what am I saying? You are going to die in this place.”
Luke spat. “Then why bother talking to me? Leave and find your next prospect. Turn your back on me like you turned your back on Bobby.”
“I didn’t turn away until it was over,” the Stranger corrected. “I’ll do the same for you. As long as there’s a chance, I’ll be here. I keep my promises.”
“Who did you promise?” Luke wondered.
The Stranger flicked the cigar away and it dissipated as it passed through the cell bars. “We have a contract.”
“Right,” Luke said, but something about that didn’t sound quite right. The Stranger was hiding something. He sighed. Then again, what did it matter. He probably was going to die soon. He just hoped he had the chance to spit in Jeb’s eye while he did it.
25: Beans, Bears, and Subterfuge
An excerpt from the Tale of the Red Star Gang
“Consider this, children. Secrets are like a jar of preserves. When you start keeping them they seem like a wise idea. After all, you are taking something of value that you fear will go bad if it is exposed to the elements and hiding it away to protect it. But everything has its time and even a jar of preserves kept overlong becomes something vile and unpalatable. Poisonous if consumed.” – Mrs. Rebecca Payne’s passionate explanation to a classroom full of children who lost the analogy half way through it. Luna Gorda, NM 1877.
Marshal Blye sent a telegraph to Puerta Muerte ahead of their departure from the station at Fort Dernoth. He declared that Tom Dunn and Sandy Tucker had been captured and the bank’s stolen money recovered thanks to the courageous help of one Miss Katie Weiss. He concluded by requesting that Sheriff Wickee send funds to pay her the promised bounty.
As expected, Wickee’s response was swift. He demanded that the stolen property be returned and that the prisoners be extradited to Puerta Muerte where the crime had been committed. Smiling, Blye sent a reply reluctantly acquiescing to the request. He would bring the prisoners and Miss Weiss to Puerta Muerte personally.
He proudly told Tom and Sandy that the trap had been set. Now it just needed proper execution. While they waited for the train to arrive, he took Tom and Sandy to a local cantina and bought them dinner. While they ate, he laid out his plan for the two of them.
“We’ll head right into town acting like I’m gonna turn you over. Once we get there, I’ll hand him these.” He said
around a mouthful of beans. He took three folded sheets of paper out of his inner jacket pocket and placed them on the counter.
Sandy picked one of them up, his brow raising. “How did you swing this?”
Blye snorted. “I’m the dag-gum Chief Federal Marshal over New Mexico Territory. I see these all day long.”
Tom, a slower reader than Sandy, nearly choked on his own food. A chunk of pork flew from his mouth, landing on one of the page he was reading. “Pardons?”
The Marshal frowned in distaste and shook the food off of the pardon, wiping it with a handkerchief. “I snuck them out of the office a while back. Just had to fill in your names. Lucky for you, I’m friends with the Governor of Texas. I sent him a wire and he okayed it.”
Sandy shook his head. “You’re friends with the Governor? Didn’t he fight for the South? I thought I heard you were against the Confederates during the war.”
“I’m the one who delivered his pardon when the war was over,” Blye replied. “Point is, y’all are free and clear. We hand these to Sheriff Wickee, he can’t touch you. If he’s got your friend Luke locked up, this’ll spring him.”
“I don’t know that I want my bounty cleared,” Tom said sadly.
Sandy was nodding appreciatively. “Jeb ain’t gonna like this.”
“I’m planning on it. Moment he makes a move to stop me, I’ll arrest him. Then, with him behind bars, I can gather real evidence. Locals will talk once they know he’s no danger.” Blye’s grin was predatory. He shoved another spoonful of beans into his mouth. “There’s nothing he’ll be able to hide from me.”
“You make it sound too easy,” Tom said. Hesitantly he added, “You do know he can’t be hit by bullets.”
The Marshal put his spoon down and wiped his lips. “I’ve heard rumors. That true?”
“All three of us tried to hit him,” Tom said.
“I saw my bullet swerve to avoid him,” Sandy added.
The Marshal raised a thick eyebrow. “You saw a bullet move?
“I have good eyes,” Sandy replied.
Blye shrugged and took another bite of his food. “Then we’ll find a way around it. He dodge punches?”
Sandy blinked at his quick acceptance. “Uh, not that I know of.”
“Good. I got a mean right hook,” the Marshal said.
“Wait. You’re just believin’ us?” Tom asked in surprise.
“Boys, you been around as long as I have, you see things. Don’t think either of you will be surprised to hear that I have an ability of my own.” He took a drink of the local watered-down wine. “I can take the measure of a man just by talking to him. I can see if he’s lying. Make out his talents.” He pointed at Tom, “For instance, I know that you are unnaturally lucky. And you,” he jerked his thumb at Sandy. “You got the eyes of an eagle.”
Both Red Stars shivered. The man’s talent was unfair.
“But do you know about the Sheriff’s other ability?” Sandy asked.
“The man’s got two? That’s rare,” Blye replied.
Sandy explained the power of compulsion that Jeb had used during their escape. How helpless they had been until the spell had broken. Blye listened intently, never once showing doubt.
“Huh,” said Blye once Sandy had finished.
“I got it figured out, though,” Sandy said, encouraged by the marshal’s quick acceptance. “He’s got an artifact; somethin’ he’s either made himself or stole from someone else. That’s what he uses to make people do his will.”
“How do you know that?” Tom said, once again unnerved by Sandy’s sudden knowledge of the workings of witchery.
“A witch told me,” he said. Tom’s jaw dropped.
“Speaking to a witch is a dangerous way to find information,” Blye said, shaking his head as he finished off the last of his dinner. “Still, it’s good to know.”
Blye wasn’t sure why Sandy’s backer hadn’t simply revealed all this himself. He would have asked, but he was also aware that Tom and Sandy weren’t aware of each other’s backers. His backer, Zed, had told him that there was a certain agreement in place that curtailed the Red Star’s legends from revealing each other’s existence to their prospects. Though Blye thought the situation ridiculous, Zed felt it wasn’t Blye’s place to point these things out.
“You’re awfully calm about this,” Sandy observed. “You aren’t concerned about this second power?”
“He ain’t the only one with an artifact,” Blye said, placing his thumb behind his lapel and thrusting his badge forward proudly. “There’s a lot of power comes in a badge. Folks learn to believe in the authority of law and when you’ve been wearing one as long as I have, it works wonders. Should be enough to counter whatever witchery he’s got.”
The light gleamed off the badge’s polished metal and Sandy felt a surge of hope. This could work.
They left Fort Dernoth by train an hour later. The journey was much quicker than possible by horseback. When they arrived at the rail station in Luna Gorda a few short days later, it was late in the night. Sandy and Tom were able to make quick visits to family under the cover of darkness.
They left town before morning taking the main road to Puerta Muerte. Once the sun came up, Sandy’s and Tom’s wrists were bound and their weapons taken by the deputies. Sandy didn’t like going into this unarmed, but it was important that any of the sheriff’s eyes and ears would see what Blye wanted them to see.
They were a small group. Chuck Blye rode in front with Katie, who was now dressed back in her riding clothes, her hair pulled back and tied behind her neck and her face free of makeup. Two of Blye’s men rode behind them, his lead deputy Miles and a greenhorn deputy by the name of Garrett. Then rode Tom and Sandy with their unseen backers on either side. Forming the rear were three more deputies.
Sandy rode silently, his thoughts turned inward. His conversation with his father had been difficult on him. Alberto didn’t approve of Sandy’s outlaw behavior, but he did not blame his son for Elisabeth-Ann’s death. Nor did he blame the woman who shot her. He had turned to prayer for answers.
That didn’t sit well with Sandy. As far as he was concerned, there was plenty blame to go around and he wanted someone to pay for it. The problem was that Luke had already killed all of the Black Spots responsible. That left Jeb Wickee. In his mind’s eye, the sheriff was already in his sights. Sandy was raring to pull the trigger. He didn’t care if Jeb was in or out of a jail cell at the time.
Pecos, a man who had never known his real mother, had no idea what to say. He tried to be a comforting presence, but there was little he could do. Finally, he left, using his spectral speed to scout the hills around them, looking out for bandits.
The Kid stuck close to Tom and tried to keep his spirits up. When the legend had shown up that morning, his horse had appeared facing the wrong direction. He kept the poor thing trotting backwards at an impressive speed to keep up with everyone else’s forward pace. All the while he told bad jokes and poked fun at the other riders.
Tom, who had grown more sour on the plan by the hour, was even more irritated by the Kid’s constant clowning. He spent the journey letting out a constant stream of grumbled complaints. Most of them were about how tight his bonds were. Blye explained that they needed to look legitimate. If Sheriff Wickee caught on to their ruse too early, they could be in a heap of trouble.
Tom quieted for a while, but once Pecos returned and Sandy reported the first pair of bandit scouts watching from the hills, his complaints began anew. “Marshal! I know you feel we’ve already discussed this to death, but I really feel I gotta point out a follicle in your plan.”
“I think you mean phallus,” the Kid corrected. Fortunately, Tom was interrupted before he could blurt that one out.
“Fallacy, you idiot!” Katie groaned. She was the only member of the party more against the plan than he was. Her mood had grown fouler by the mile. “And you’re right. This plan is full of fallacies! Like the fact that you two are the ones t
ied up, but I’m the real dag-gum prisoner here! Y’all might get lucky enough to be shot, but I just know I’m gonna end up hangin’ from that evil noose of his.”
“What is it, Tom?” Blye said patiently, ignoring the ranting woman.
“There ain’t enough of us for the job,” Tom pointed out.
“So you’ve been saying,” Sandy replied.
Tom used one of the Kid’s analogies. “You don’t hunt a pack of bears with a single rifle.”
“I don’t think bears come in packs,” said Deputy Garrett, a very tall man with a thick mustache. “They’re solitary animals.”
“I dunno,” replied one of the deputies bringing up the rear. “My uncle saw a whole slew of ’em out fishing once. He swore they were working together.”
“My point is, there’s nine of us and a couple hundred outlaws,” Tom said in frustration. “We should be here with a blasted army!”
“You bring a blasted army, you get a blasted war,” Blye replied. “Every time you bring up the couple hundred outlaws, you ain’t thinking of the couple hundred innocents in the town. I’d prefer we keep the casualties to a minimum. Besides, the rest of the outlaws can wait. We just want the Sheriff.”
“Our group’s big as it is,” Deputy Miles pointed out. “This is a lot of men for a simple prisoner transfer.”
“We’ll be alright,” Blye assured him. “It’s not quite enough to make him feel threatened, but just big enough to discourage an ambush by some bandit gang on the way in. It’s a delicate balance, but I been doing this for decades. I got an eye for this sort of thing.”
“Yes sir,” Miles said.
“You’re proving my point,” Tom said. “Jeb ain’t gonna feel threatened because with this few of us, we ain’t a threat. Even if you spring your trap successfully, why is he gonna let us leave alive? This is more like hunting the leader of the bears by going into their den and telling him he’s under arrest!”
“First smart thing you’ve said since I met you,” Katie agreed.
Noose Jumpers: A Mythological Western Page 34