Chandler sat his horse thinking. He waved at one of the other riders.
"Go up that little valley and look for wagon tracks and fresh horse sign. They're here somewhere.
"Hugh, get some brush and put it up against the doorway there. Let's torch this place. He won't like that."
Oliver watched with growing anger. "Hoped they'd think we had moved out and that they'd ride away. Ain't gonna be that easy."
He levered the round into the chamber and angled his Winchester over the rock aimed at the man below gathering fire wood and brush.
The slap of the big caliber rifle going off sent a shock wave of sound down the valley. The bullet preceded it, bored through the brush gatherer's left thigh and punched him six-feet away from the cabin door.
Oliver pulled the Winchester back out of sight and watched below. Chandler dove off his horse and ran behind the side of the cabin and out of sight.
The other rider kicked his horse in the same direction and was soon lost to view. The wounded man screamed at them, then began crawling and hopping on one foot to get out of the line of fire.
On the rise, the two men waited. Below at the cabin, the three remained hidden from sight.
After five minutes, a voice bellowed from below.
"Oliver, you have the advantage. Take an army to dig you out from up there. We're leaving, but we'll be back. If you haven't decided to move out of here, you better. You'll be watching over your shoulder every day for the rest of your life wondering when I'll show up to gun you down."
Spur lifted his rifle and put four rounds into the ground in front of where the horses grazed. They spooked, running wildly into the brush and away from the spraying of dirt and rocks. One man ran after them.
Spur didn't fire. Another man angled from the last bit of protection from the cabin and ran into the brush. Only one remained, and Spur figured he was Doug Chandler. He was shorter than the other two.
The third one then ran for the woods, almost got there when he stumbled and fell. He turned and looked at the slope before he surged to his feet and vanished into the brush.
Spur had reloaded the tube that held the rounds and pushed it back into the Spencer's stock so he had eight rounds again.
"I'll circle down and toward the trail and make sure that they get moving that way, then send them on their journey with some .52 caliber reminders."
"I don't think you have to do that," Oliver said grinning. "They sounded convinced."
"True, but I'd just like to do it as a public service. I'll be back. You want to load up your wagon now that your belongings are all out of the cabin?"
"Might. I need to talk to you first. Got myself a small problem."
"I'll be back in an hour or so."
When Spur got back from his herding job on the Doug Chandler gang, he found a wagon in front of the cabin already half loaded. A team of horses was hitched to the front and Bess and the kids brought boxes and gunny sacks of goods down to the wagon from the hill and out of the brush.
Oliver had moved the kitchen range to the door of the cabin. He waved and Spur gave him a hand. Together they carried the small four plate cookstove to the wagon and settled it into a place that had been saved for it.
Oliver pointed Spur into some shade and they sat down.
"Like I said, Mr. McCoy, I got myself one small problem."
Oliver reached inside his shirt and brought out two bundles wrapped with brown paper and tied with string. He tossed them to Spur. The Secret Service agent pulled back the brown paper on the corner of one package and then the other.
They were used U.S. banknotes. Spur looked up. "About ten-thousand dollars worth here?" Spur asked.
Oliver rubbed his dark face with one hand and nodded.
"Somehow I'm not surprised. You knew what Chandler was hunting, but you didn't say a word about it. Would you have let me walk away from here with all that stolen money?"
"Can't say. I didn't have to decide, did I? So what are you going to do with it?"
"My Cherokee half says take the damned money and get as far back in the Territory as possible. Damn strange, isn't it? If I took the money and ran inside, I wouldn't have anyplace to spend it. I'd be no better off than if I don't take it.
"Then my Negro side jumps up and I remember my ma who was born and raised a slave, and she would say: `Son, ain't your money. Ain't no business of yours. Get rid of it fast as your black hands can do the job.'"
Spur drew designs on the bare earth in front of him with a stick. He rubbed the design out and scratched the figure $10,000 in the dirt.
"That's a lot of cash money, Oliver. Your kids and your wife wouldn't have to worry about going hungry, ever again. You could move into some small town and let the kids go to school and buy your Bess some pretty clothes and make out like you were a gentleman. You'd have enough money to last you the rest of your life."
Oliver took a deep breath and stared out over the green valley. "Yeah, I thought about that. Thought about going back to Georgia and buying the little farm my Pa used to slave on. Thought about finding the Cherokee Nation and trying to help my Pa's people. Thought about a hundred different things that I could do.
"Trouble was, I couldn't do none of them. You gave me that hundred dollars last week. More money than I ever seen before. It'll do us all good in a few months. I kin spend it a little at a time, get Bess that dress, better clothes for the younguns, maybe find a school somewhere.
"Hell, I don't need no damn ten-thousand dollars."
Spur turned the bundles of money over. "Right, Oliver, it's a lot of money. Average working man in a town makes about thirty-five dollars a month. That's four hundred and twenty dollars for a whole year's work. Ten thousand dollars would be almost 24 years of that man's work."
"That's stolen money, Mr. McCoy. I can't have no part of it."
"It's not only stolen, it's been twice stolen, maybe three times, depending how you count. Actually, it belongs to some gent in Kansas City who tried to buy a big ranch north of Fort Smith."
"He'll be wanting it back."
Spur put a line through the drawing of the $10,000 in the dust. "So you're telling me you don't want to keep the money."
Oliver watched his wife and kids loading household things into the wagon. Bess packed in everything neatly to conserve space.
"Yes sir, that's what I'm saying."
Spur grinned. "Good." He unwrapped one bundle of bills and began counting out the fives and tens until he had a stack of $1,000. He straightened them until they lay neat and straight in one pile. Then he wrapped the rest of the bundle up and tied it with string as it had been.
"When valuables get lost, Oliver, there usually is a reward for finding them. In most cases, a tenpercent gift is considered to be fair. That means that for finding this stolen ten-thousand dollars, you get a reward of one-thousand dollars. It's not dirty money, it's not something that's tainted or evil or bad. It's a thousand dollars in good United States Notes, legal tender for all bills public or private."
Oliver shivered. He looked at the stack of money but didn't say a word or move.
"Bess?" Spur called. The Negro woman looked up, nodded when she saw Spur motion her to come over and walked to where he and her husband sat.
"Bess, Oliver here just did a good deed for some gentleman in Kansas City. He recovered the man's lost ten-thousand dollars. A reward of ten-percent is granted to you and Oliver for this wonderful action. I want to put this thousand dollars in your care, since Oliver seems a little stunned right now to take charge of it."
The black woman stared at Spur a moment, her face slack and serious.
"No tricks, Bess. No conditions attached. Nobody will know what you did or that you have the money. It's yours to do with whatever you want to do."
Bess's face cracked and a big grin exploded over it. Then she shrilled a high yell of delight. She picked up the bills with total awe, and held them to her bosom. Then she screeched again in absolute joy.
Sh
e sat down beside Oliver, reached in and kissed his cheek.
Bess looked at Spur. "We thank you, Mr. Mc Coy. You're a good man. Oliver is a good man. The two of you make one mighty strong team. Oliver and me will take good care of this money. More than we ever hoped to have in our whole lives. We'll put it to good use, believe me. Now, back to work. 117n we want to get this wagon loaded and out of here before dark, we gots to get our asses in motion. Don't want to be around nowhere when that Mr. Chandler come back with more of his guns."
The six of them worked the rest of the afternoon without stopping for more than cold water and jerky to chew on. By four o'clock they had the last of the goods on the wagon, including a chicken coop on the top of the load holding a dozen hens and fifteen young ones. In another few weeks they would be ready to make fryers.
Oliver took off his hat and slashed at the sweat on his forehead. "Does it," he said. "No crops to speak of. Gonna be lots more tomatoes, but the next people who claim the cabin can use them. Lost two chickens, but they'll make out."
Two milk cows on rope tethers stood waiting behind the wagon. Bess climbed on the seat on top of a wooden crate and picked up the reins.
Oliver rode the chestnut mare. He patted the deep red animal with three white stockings.
"No sense letting her go to waste out here in the Territories," Oliver said. The kids walked beside the wagon as it moved out the trail.
Spur stayed with them until they hit the main track that angled generally west and upstream on the Arkansas. The way here was wider, as if more wagons had used it.
"There's a better road leading north and west about fifteen-miles upstream," Oliver said. "Leads into the least settled part of the Territories by the whites, but it's got a passel of Indians in there. I figure I can get along with them. Lot of them know I'm half Cherokee by now."
Oliver rode close to Spur and held out his hand. "Appreciate what you done for me. Oh, about Dolan. He held us all under his gun first night he came and we fed him. Then he went for Bess. I swore I'd never let another man touch her, after what happened a few days ago. I caught Dolan off guard and tackled him and smashed his head on the floor. He paid for his sins, whatever they were.
"Ain't proud of that savage few minutes. I swore never again for Bess and he was about to do her and I went kind of crazy."
Spur pumped the man's hand again. "None of my business, Oliver. I don't have any authority over here. I think it all worked out about right. I'll see that the rest of this money gets back to its rightful owner. You watch your step and keep that cash hidden away where nobody would think to look for it. I hear there's a passel of outlaws in this country."
Oliver nodded. He tapped the six-gun at his hip and another one stuck in his belt. "That's why I carry both of these and they're loaded with six rounds each."
Spur waved and headed downstream toward the ferry. He should be there just before dark and the last run across the river. He wanted to turn in the $9,000 to Sheriff Grimm before it went through any more hands.
On his ride back to the ferry, Spur McCoy reviewed the case. He had recovered the ranch payment money. It would go to Teasdale or to the prospective buyer. He had no idea what the status of the sale of the ranch might be. He'd have to check with Teasdale who was a sharp old boy.
Spur had nothing on the bearer bonds, the $100,000 worth, the largest single element in this train robbery. That could have been the motivation for it and the rest of the stacks of money just serendipity.
The $20,000 in new bank bills hadn't started to surface anywhere. Which would show that the robbers weren't totally stupid.
The kidnapped daughter of the governor hadn't turned up yet, dead or alive, but some progress in finding her had been made. Maybe if it progressed to a money-for-girl exchange, they'd do better. Whoever set that one up was clever and lucky.
He caught the last ferry, paid his dime for the horse and a nickel for himself, and soon was across the river and riding down Main Street to the sheriff's office.
It was a little after eight o'clock. The sheriff was there doing some paperwork.
"You still working?" Spur asked.
"No, I'm playing slap and tickle with a big titted whore."
"Good, don't like to disturb a man having fun at his hobby."
Spur dropped the two packets of bills on Sheriff Grimm's desk.
"I'm bought, who do you want me to kill?" the sheriff asked, riffling through the bills. "How much here?"
"Not sure, somewhere around nine thousand. It's probably the cash from the Teasdale farm sale, but I can't be sure."
"Teasdale. That's what bothers me. The old man is straight as a Cherokee arrow."
"Take your word for it. That don't account for his son-in-law, Doug Chandler."
"Chandler. Trust him about as far as I can spit with my mouth stitched shut."
"He was the one trying to get this money. Claimed a man called Russ Dolan stole it from him. Unfortunately, Mr. Dolan is now three-feet under the sod somewhere. A citizen turned in this money after we persuaded Mr. Chandler to retreat."
"With hot lead?"
"Good guess. Let's count this and then you can give me a receipt. I want you to hold the cash until we find out who is the legal owner."
They called in a deputy and the three of them counted the money twice. The total was $8,965.
"Whoever stole it didn't have time to spend much of it," Sheriff Grimm said. Spur didn't say anything about the 10-percent he had given to Half Breed Oliver. That was government business done in the Territories and out of the sheriff's jurisdiction.
"So, if Chandler was involved in the ranch sale money, which was in that Railway Express car, is he in on the rest of the robbery and kidnapping and bond theft?" Sheriff Grimm asked.
Spur held up his hands. "I wish I knew. At least we have a suspect we can watch. I need to take another ride out to the Teasdale ranch and talk to the old man. Let him know what's going on, and get the name of the man who he supposedly sold his ranch to. We probably should notify him about the money. I'll tell Teasdale, as well."
The money went in the big safe in the sheriff's office. Spur pushed the receipt for the money into his wallet and hurried out the door. He was starved and hoped the restaurants were still open.
One was.
After he ate, he wandered up the slope where he could see the Lowell mansion. The same two lights were on that he had seen before. No car riage or buggy waited out front. He walked back to his hotel. He could use a good sleep in a soft bed.
As he came through the lobby, he saw Lillian reading a magazine. She smiled when she saw him, winked, put down the reading matter and went up the stairs as he asked for his key at the desk. There were no messages. When he walked up the steps to the second floor, he found Lillian waiting beside his room 212 door. He smiled.
"About time you came back. Where you been the last couple of days? I kept trying to see you but you were never in."
"Bus" Y•
"I bet. Some redhead probably with tiny tits and a shriveled up cunnie."
"Hey, right, Lillian, you must know her pretty well." He unlocked the room and they went in. Nobody else was in the hall.
He locked the door, turned the key halfway around so it couldn't be pushed out from the outside and set a chair back under the doorknob to double lock it.
Spur turned and watched her. What a lovely young woman. Breasts high and full, a pretty face that right then had a curious grin.
"Now, Lillian, should we discuss the international situation, or concentrate more on the troubles of the republican party in getting its message out to the voting public?"
Lillian giggled and started unbuttoning her blouse.
"You are funny, and a tease. Why don't you tell me what you've been doing all this time." She smiled. "Do that as I undress you. Then we'll find something even more interesting to do."
Spur sat on the bed and let her undress him. He was tired, but not that tired. She left his short underwear for last and
pulled them down with delightful ministrations. When his erection jolted out of the cloth she squealed and pounced on it, battling with it until she won. She gave it a quick kiss and pushed Spur down flat on the bed.
Lillian gave a little cry and began a slow, gyrating strip tease that showed off her charms to the ultimate. Her blouse dropped off her arms and to the floor. She lifted her chemise to show the bottom swell of her breasts then dropped it. She danced in front of him grinding her hips and shaking her shoulders and at last her chemise whipped up and off showing her big breasts and all of their fancy swinging and bouncing that brought a cheer from Spur.
She hung over him, dropping one breast to his face. He licked the nipple, then kissed it and opened his mouth as she lowered her orb into it. Spur chewed for a minute or two, biting the rock hard nipple that had sprung tall.
She moaned and fell on top of him, grinding her hips against his erection.
Then she lifted up, ripped her skirt and bloomers off in one swift motion and lay on him again.
"Me on top the first time," she pleaded. She lifted off his hips, pulled his erection to the right position and lowered herself thrusting him deeply within her ready sheath.
"Oh, damn!" she crooned. "Oh, yes! This is the place, this is the way, just good old fashioned flicking, a man and a girl getting it done the right fucking way!"
She moved then, gently forward and back as the lubrication began working. She sighed, then lifted and began to ride him like a young stallion on his first mare in heat.
"Yes, yes, yes," she crooned. She tried to kiss his lips but she couldn't stretch up high enough. Her movements went faster and faster and her breath came in gulps and gasps. Then she shuddered and stopped moving. Her whole body trembled and then vibrated and jolted as the spasms of release tore through her. She moaned again and climaxed another time as she shook and bounced over him. Her eyes were closed and she wore an expression of ultimate pleasure.
She rested a moment, then a third climax ripped her apart and she squealed and moaned and panted until he thought she would be used up and shrivel into nothing.
Spur Giant: Soiled Dove Page 12