by John Legg
“I think you’re a damn fool, Jonas,” Reinhardt said. Then he shrugged. “But there ain’t no talkin’ to you about it. I’ll go send this wire. Anything else you need me to do?”
“Take my horse and mule over to Cassidy’s. Have him check the mule over good to make sure he’s got no sore spots. Have him tend both animals, then grain them and water them good.”
“Yessir. I’ll meet you over at Moldovan’s.”
“Buster,” Culpepper called, when Reinhardt was halfway out the door. The young man turned back. “Thanks. I’m obliged for all you’ve done.”
“I wish it could’ve been more.” Then he left.
“Come on, Bear,” Culpepper said, standing. He plodded to his house, feeling Merry’s loss severely when he was near to the small place and remembered that Merry wouldn’t be waiting at the door for him.
The house was cold and musty smelling from not having been used in a week and a half. Culpepper lit a lantern and then got a fire going in the stove. He found some old salt beef and cut off enough chunks to feed Bear pretty well. After eating, the mastiff stretched out near the stove and fell asleep. Every once in a while, he would make a high-pitched sounds as his jowly lips flapped when he dreamed of chasing some plump jack rabbits.
Culpepper heated some water, which he used to scrub up with as best as he could. Then he reheated it and used it to scrape off the thick red fur on his cheeks. Then he changed into fresh clothes. “All right, Bear,” he said quietly, “you’ve had enough of a nap. Come on.” They walked to Moldovan’s restaurant.
The place was only half full, for which Culpepper was grateful. He ignored the looks that the few customers gave him, as well as the quiet whispers and finger pointing. He ordered from Eleni Moldovan, who touched his shoulder in sympathy. He nodded and patted the hand.
Eleni made sure Culpepper had heaping portions of chicken, potatoes, beans, and bread, as well as coffee. Culpepper nodded in thanks and dug in. Eleni had also brought a plate with old meat scraps and a bone and set it on the floor for Bear. The mastiff went to eating with as much gusto as Culpepper had.
Culpepper was about halfway through his meal when Reinhardt and Pennrose came in and sat at his table.
“Everything’s done and ready,” Reinhardt said, as he took the coffee cup Eleni handed him. He filled the cup. “Art’s going to wait till you’re ready to go. Then he’ll load the mule and saddle your horse.”
“He ain’t complained about stayin’ so late?” Culpepper asked around a mouthful of chicken and biscuit. He didn’t really care, but he figured he ought to make some kind of conversation.
“Not when he’s gettin’ what Mister Pennrose is payin’ him.” Culpepper nodded. “All the supplies there already?” Reinhardt nodded. “I still think you’re a damn fool for leavin’ now, Jonas. Wait till mornin’. You’ll be fresh, and the animals’d be fresh.”
“I know all that,” Culpepper said swallowing. “And you know why I’m leavin’ now. Those pukin’ skunks’ve got a week-and-a-half lead on me. I’ve got to make as much time as I can to catch up to them.”
Reinhardt nodded. “Yeah, I know.”
“You should take a posse with you, Sheriff,” Pennrose said. “That wouldn’t do me much good. Look what happened to the last one.”
“We’ll have more men this time. Better men.”
“Face it, Pennrose,” Culpepper said evenly, “they’d still be miners and townsmen, and as such’d most likely get themselves killed. I don’t want that on my conscience.”
“But...”
“I admire your desire to help, Pennrose,” Culpepper said, “and maybe someday I’ll even forgive you for all the grief you’ve caused me and others. But for right now, I think you’d be best keepin’ your own counsel for the most part.”
Pennrose nodded, afraid now to say anything at all. Culpepper finished eating a few minutes later, and then settled back with a final cup of coffee.
“Well,” Reinhardt said, setting his cup down, “I better go tell Art to start loadin’ up that mule.”
“Let Pennrose do it,” Culpepper said pointedly. “I need to talk to you a few minutes.”
Looking like he had just swallowed a four-day-dead skunk, Pennrose nodded. He stood and left, back stiff.
“I don’t reckon you’re too awful popular with Mister Pennrose right now, Jonas,” Reinhardt said with a grin.
“It works the other way, too, Buster,” Culpepper said. Reinhardt nodded. “Well, what’d you want to talk to me about, Jonas?”
“Nothin’ much,” Culpepper responded. “I just wanted to knock old Pennrose down a notch or two more. He’s lorded it over darn near everyone in Silverton since he’s been here. A little humility’ll be good for him.”
“He’s really tried to do all he could since…well, since Coakley rode out.”
“I expect he has. He should’ve done more, though. Well, actually, he shouldn’t have started all this troublesome mess. Durn! If he’d only kept his nose out of other folks’ business, none of this would’ve...” He stopped and sucked in a breath, irritated at himself for getting carried away.
“He thought he was doin’ right then, too, Jonas.”
“You takin’ his side now, Buster?” Culpepper asked harshly. “Nope. Just statin’ what’s true. There was nothin’ in all this for Pennrose. No benefit in it for him—or for Anvil Mining—by settin’ Coakley and those others free. The only thing he could’ve gotten out of this was to have Coakley catch Ellsworth.”
“I suppose that’s a fact, Buster. But because of his durn fool action, a friend of mine is dead, and my wife’s been carried off by a bunch of pukin’ maggots worse than the darned outlaws they was supposed to catch.”
“Well, you’re right,” Reinhardt countered. “But I ain’t so sure that treatin’ Pennrose poorly just to rub his nose in the dirt is gonna accomplish anything. For you, or for him.”
“Durn it, Buster,” Culpepper said sourly, “you have an annoying habit of speakin’ the facts.” He tried to smile but couldn’t. His thoughts were on Merry, and what abuse she was probably undergoing at the hands of Coakley and his men. He finished his coffee and stood. “Well, I’d best be on my way.” The renewed thoughts of Merry had instilled in him a sense of urgency. Or maybe it was just a desire to get on with what had to be done. He didn’t know which, nor did he care.
“I’ll walk with you down to the livery, if you don’t mind, Jonas.”
“I’d be obliged for the company.”
As the two men walked down the street, Culpepper said, “Keep a good watch on the town while I’m gone, Buster. Anybody the likes of Ellsworth—or Coakley—comes along, you shoot the maggot down right off.”
“I’ll do so.”
“And don’t rely on nobody but yourself. You start relyin’ on others, and you’ll end up in a pot of trouble.”
“Hell, Jonas, you’re relyin’ on me.”
“I suppose I am at that. Well, then, don’t rely on too many folks, especially ones you don’t know too well or can’t trust.” They were at the livery now. The stable was lit by several lanterns, and Cassidy was just tightening the saddle on Culpepper’s buckskin. The mule stood nearby, still munching on some oats, packs tied down and covered with waterproofed canvas. Pennrose was standing straight, arms folded across his chest, watching.
“All set, Sheriff,” Cassidy said, patting the horse on the neck. “This old gelding’s lookin’ pretty good for what he’s been through lately.”
“Think he’ll hold up under some more rough handling?”
“I do.” He paused. “I can let you have another mule, if you want, to pack more supplies. Or I can let you have another horse, as a spare.”
“Thanks for the offer, Art,” Culpepper said, as he pulled himself into the saddle, “but I don’t think either one’ll be necessary, and havin’ extra animals along’d just slow me down.” He reached down and shook hands with Cassidy, and then Reinhardt. He touched his hat brim in Pennrose’s
direction. Then he was riding out of the stable, Bear pacing the horse.
Culpepper made the trip to San Miguel in just over three days, going without sleep for the entire journey. He ate all his meals in the saddle, and stopped only for short periods to relieve himself and to give the horse and the mule a little rest.
He was bone tired when he finally rode into town. He stopped in front of the Stanton House and sat there weaving, half asleep, in the saddle.
A shout of “Jonas!” startled him into wakefulness. He opened bleary, reddened eyes. “Jody,” he said softly. He saw Daisy right behind his brother, standing between Silas and Sarah Stanton, but he was falling off the horse by then and did not even greet them.
Jody Culpepper caught his brother and then eased him the rest of the way out of the saddle. He managed to get Jonas up and over his shoulder. “Watch the animals, Daisy,” he said as he carted his brother up the stairs, and into his room and deposited him on the bed as softly as he could. Then he went back downstairs and took Jonas’s horse and mule to the livery and had them cared for.
After going back to the hotel, he and Daisy sat up throughout the day and intermittently through the night, until Jonas awoke twelve hours after he had ridden into town. He came awake slowly, trying to remember where he was.
“About time you got up, big brother,” Jody said, rubbing his eyes. “You hungry?”
“Yep. What time is it?”
Jody checked his pocket watch. “Four in the morning.”
“When did I get here?” he asked sheepishly.
“Somewhere about three, four, maybe a little later. Yesterday afternoon. You were asleep on your horse.”
“You get my wire?”
“Yep.”
“Good. Let me tell you about...”
“After you’ve eaten. Whatever it is, no matter how bad—and I gather it’s real bad—it can wait till then.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Jonas could not wait until he had breakfast. As soon as Daisy had returned from asking Sarah Stanton to bring some food upstairs for everyone, Jonas began talking. It took only a few minutes for him to explain what had happened.
When Jonas had finished, Jody stood. His face was hard. “I’ll get the horses and mules ready,” he said harshly. “You eat. As soon as all that’s done, we’ll hit the trail.”
Jonas nodded, but glanced at Daisy. The young woman was gazing at Jody with fierce resolution etched on her face. “What can I do?” she asked.
“Stay here with Jonas,” Jody said. “If he thinks of anything else needs doin’, you can either do it, get me, or find someone else to do it.”
Daisy nodded. She owed so much to these two men. One had saved her life, and the other had won her heart. She was afraid for both brothers. They were going out against probably impossible odds. It was doubtful they would even be able to find the men they would be chasing, which was a mixed blessing as far as Daisy was concerned. If they did not find the lawman- turned-outlaw, the Culpeppers would be safe, but Jonas’s wife would never be found. If, on the other hand, they did find Coakley and the others, they would be terribly outnumbered, and thus in serious danger. She knew she could not keep from worry, but she was determined that she would not let the Culpeppers see it.
Jody opened the door, startling Sarah, who was trying to juggle a tray of food while getting ready to knock. “Sorry, Miz Stanton.” Jody took the tray from the woman and brought it inside.
Sarah followed him inside. “You’ll be leaving soon, the two of you?” she asked. She didn’t know what was wrong, only that there was serious trouble.
“Yes,” Jody said.
“Then you need some food, too. You sit down, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“No, ma’am,” Jody said firmly. “There’s a heap of work to be done before we can leave, and it needs to be done now.”
“She’s right, Jody,” Daisy said. “You need to eat. You go on about your chores. Miz Stanton, make him up a tray. I’ll take it to him over at the stables, and then help there.”
“No, you stay here, in case…”
“No, Jody,” Daisy said. “I can’t do no one any good here. If Jonas needs somethin’, Mister and Miz Stanton’re here to help. Besides, I’ve loaded a mule and saddled horses before. The more help you get, the quicker you and Jonas can get on the trail. Now you go on. I’ll be over to help you directly.”
It was still dark less than half an hour later, when the Culpepper brothers rode out of San Miguel. They headed northwest, up the valley, between a line of low hills on the southwest and the Uncompahgre Plateau on the northeast. They pushed pretty hard, but tried to temper their desire to move ahead as fast as possible. It would do them no good to find Coakley and his men and then be too exhausted to take them on.
They still managed to reach the town of Westville in three days instead of the usual four. They edged up onto it slowly, since Bear was showing signs of agitation. A quarter of a mile or so away, they heard noises. They could not determine exactly what the sounds were, but they knew they could only be made by men.
The Culpeppers stopped and went behind a short, squat hill, where they staked their horses and mules.
“Well, big brother, what do we do?” Jody asked.
Jonas wanted to just ride into Westville and do whatever it was that was necessary, but there were some serious problems with that. If those in the ghost town were not the ones the Culpeppers were chasing, some innocent people might get hurt. If either Coakley’s bunch or Ellsworth’s were in Westville, they could be riding to their deaths without being able to accomplish anything.
“I think we’ll wait ’til nightfall. Then I’ll mosey on over there and snoop around.”
“You’ll do that?” Jody asked.
“Yep. You’ll stay here and keep watch on the animals.”
“Why don’t you stay here with the animals?” Jody asked, trying to keep the petulance out of his voice.
“Several reasons. For one, I’m the sheriff; you’re only the deputy. For another, I’m older. But those’re just small reasons. For the main one, I’ve got to ask you this: Do you know the men we’re lookin’ for?”
“Well, no, but I know Merry.”
“Supposin’ it’s not Coakley? Supposin’ it’s Ellsworth?”
“That would be a problem, wouldn’t it?” Jody commented, feeling like a fool to need to have such a thing explained to him. “All right, so you’ll go in there. Then what?”
Jonas shrugged. “Depends on what—and who—I find there.”
It was several hours to sunset, so the Culpeppers dozed, trying to make up some of the sleep they’d been shortchanged on the journey so far. Finally they roused themselves and ate a cold supper. Even though they were still a quarter-mile or so from the town, and behind a hill, neither wanted to be detected because of their fire by someone wandering around outside the town. Or coming to the town.
Finally Jonas stood. “It’s about time,” he said, looking up at the spreading darkness. “Come on, Bear,” he said quietly, as he stepped off to go around the hill.
As it had since about halfway here from San Miguel, the trail followed the southwestern bank of the Dolores River. As the trail entered the “town,” it petered out when it hit the only street in Westville, which was at right angles to the river. A quarter-mile or so across the flats from the hill behind which the Culpeppers had taken shelter were two houses fronting the street. Two other houses were across the street. The only other house was set back from the street, twenty or thirty yards up the river.
Culpepper wondered again as he walked toward the town what had ever possessed people to try to populate this godforsaken place. He supposed some folks were traveling through here—probably lost—and one of their wagons had broken down. Seeing the river, they most likely assumed they could irrigate and raise crops here. But this land was not conducive to farming anything. They probably had learned that fast enough, and—if they were mighty lucky to have survived a winter w
ith little or no food and all the cold and snow—gotten out as fast as they could. If that was true, it must have been interesting, since it looked like the houses had used a considerable amount of wood from wagons, along with the reddish adobe.
Culpepper shrugged off these thoughts as he neared the houses. They were of no concern to him. He stopped a moment and listened. He patted the mastiff’s head while he did so. Then he whispered, “You’d best be quiet, dog, or we might find us in deep trouble.” Then he was walking again, softly and slowly.
He came up on the nearest house from the back, since the front was facing the street. He could see no light coming from chinks in the wood and adobe, but he continued moving warily along the one side, heading toward the street. He neither saw nor heard anything.
He stopped at the corner of the house and peered around it, up the street. The other house seemed to be equally deserted, as did the two across the street from him. Still, he could hear voices, and now he could smell wood smoke.
He moved around the corner to the front of the house, sticking close to the wall. The front door was a gaping maw, but it was evident even in the dark that no one had been through the portal in a long time, what with the cobwebs and the dust caught in them glinting dully in the pale silver moonlight.
Still wary, Culpepper moved swiftly to the next house and checked it. That one showed no more recent use than the other. Brazenly he walked across the street, hoping that if the outlaws were indeed here, that they had not placed a guard on one of the roofs. Those two houses had not been used recently, either.
“Well, Bear,” he muttered into the night sky, “reckon that whoever’s here is over by yonder house set apart from the others.” He headed in that direction, moving slowly and stopping frequently. If anyone was on the lookout, he hoped to blend into the shadows, such as they were.
As he drew nearer to the house, the sounds increased, and the mastiff seemed to catch a scent that made him dance in agitation—or eagerness; Culpepper could not be sure in the darkness. He moved closer to the wall of the house—a side wall, he learned; the front faced the river a few yards away. The river was not running very fast, or it would have obscured the sounds from the house.