Rocky Mountain Lawmen Series Box Set: Four John Legg Westerns

by John Legg

  Merry wondered what had gotten into the mastiff. Then she smiled. She wiped away her tears as she rose. “You’re right, Bear. Jonas’d never give up on me. I can’t give up on him. I can save him. I can.” She went to check on her husband.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Culpepper was still breathing, and the blood seemed to have stopped flowing. Merry wished there was something she could do for him, but she didn’t know what, other than trying to get the bullet out, and she had neither the ability nor the resources to be able to do that. She knew that the best—and really only—thing she could do for her husband would be to get him to Silverton. Or someplace else, if there were any towns between here and there. Coakley and his men had not stopped at any town on the way out here, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any.

  She rose, still looking down lovingly at her suffering husband. There was one thing she had to do before she could leave—bury Jody. She could not allow her brother-in-law’s body to lie there in the open, subject to the whims and depredations of every scavenger that happened along.

  First, though, she needed some clothes. She could do nothing while trying to keep the blanket around her. The outlaws had no extra clothes that she knew of, which meant she would have to take something off the dead. At least I still have my shoes, she thought, as she walked up the hallway with dread.

  The only one of the outlaws even remotely close to her size was Wiley. She was revolted by the thought of wearing any of his things. Then she realized she felt that way about all of them.

  Wiley’s shirtfront was soaked with blood, so she decided not to take it. His pants might fit her, though. Trying not to look at the flat, dead face with the powder-burn-encircled hole where Wiley’s right eye had been, Merry undid Wiley’s gun belt, then unbuttoned his pants. She pulled off the outlaw’s boots. Then she tossed aside her blanket and began tugging Wiley’s pants down. Turning away from the body, she reluctantly pulled the trousers on, but was relieved when she was finished. The pants were snug at the waist and hips, but the length was just about right. She did not need a belt.

  She turned and looked at Wiley’s corpse with more self-assurance. She thought he looked awfully small, naked as he was from the waist down, and so sickly white. In a sudden fit of rage, she kicked the body in the crotch as hard as she could, getting a fleeting feeling of pleasure.

  It was easier for Merry to take Boxham’s shirt. The garment was only splattered with blood in a few places.

  With a sudden sense of purpose, Merry searched the house until she found a shovel. She hurried outside and found a spot near the river where the dirt was soft and she began to dig, flinging dirt furiously. She could not keep up the pace for more than ten or fifteen minutes, though, and by then she was puffing and blowing, and covered in sweat and dirt. She almost began crying again, feeling just about useless. But she fought that off and went back to digging, much more slowly this time.

  Merry soon decided that a shallow grave would have to do, much as she might like to do better. Precious time was wasting away, time that meant everything to her husband’s life. With each recurrence of that thought, she would dig faster.

  Finally she had a hole more than six feet long, almost three wide, but only two deep. She stuck the shovel into the dirt mound beside the grave, then walked to the house, wiping her raw and aching palms on her pants.

  She checked on Jonas again on the way into the house, and noticed no change in him. Bear was still watching over his master.

  When she got to Jody’s body, she sighed, knowing this was not going to be easy. She bent, grabbed Jody under the arms and began pulling him. It was difficult work, since she was trying to drag almost two hundred pounds of dead weight. She jerked the corpse along inch by inch, sputtering with the effort. Eight feet from where she started, she stopped.

  “Bear,” she called in a strained voice. “Come here, Bear.” When the mastiff trotted up, she patted him. “Where’re the horses, boy?” she asked. “Where’s Jonas’s horse? Can you take me there?”

  Bear cocked his head from side to side, as if trying to understand. Then, with a bob of the great head, he spun and ran outside. Merry hurried after him. Outside, she saw that the mastiff had stopped and was looking toward the house. When she came into view, Bear trotted off again. The dog stopped now and again, looking back to make sure Merry was following.

  Merry finally got around the hill and found the two horses and two mules still staked out there. And the body, which she tried not to look at. She didn’t know how Bear had understood her, or even if the dog really did. All she cared about was that she had found the horses and mules. She now had transportation and supplies. Merry petted and praised the mastiff. Then she undid the picket stakes and climbed onto Jonas’s horse. She trotted to the house, towing the other horse and the two mules.

  At the house, she dismounted and tied the animals off. Then she got a rope, went in, and tied it under Jody’s arms, wrapping the other end around the saddle horn of Jonas’s buckskin. Steeling herself about the indignities she was about to inflict on her brother-in-law’s body, she took the reins of the horse and led it toward the grave. The rope tightened and then dragged Jody down the hallway and outside. Bear bounced around nearby as if directing the operation.

  It took a little maneuvering, but she finally got Jody into the grave. Breathing heavily, Merry undid the rope and swiftly began covering Jody over with dirt. She would not allow herself to cry with the grief she felt; she just worked woodenly.

  When she was done, she allowed herself some coffee, which was hot on the stove in the house, and a few pieces of jerky and biscuit as she contemplated what needed to be done. The hardest work yet lay ahead for her—how to get Jonas back to Silverton, or anywhere else where he could get medical attention. Her immediate problem was how to carry him away from here. She could not lift him onto a horse, not when he was nearly double her own weight.

  She took her time with her sparse meal, since she had not come up with a solution. Eventually, though, she had to get moving. The longer she delayed, the worse off it might be for Culpepper. She was about to give up in despair when the thought of dragging Jody to the grave came over again, as it had regularly since she had done it. She figured it was guilt, but suddenly she began to look at it in a different light.

  “Hang on, Jonas,” she whispered, as she got up and raced around the house. She found one of the doors from the back of the house lying outside. It was weathered and faded, but still mostly intact. She dragged it into the front room opposite where Culpepper lay. The stove was still hot. She got Culpepper’s knife and one of the outlaws’ pistols, which she unloaded. She put the knife into the fire and waited impatiently as it heated up. Then she jammed the hot blade into the wood of the door and twisted it around. Smoke curled as the blade burned into the wood. Merry grabbed the pistol and hammered the butt of the knife.

  She had to do that several times, but she finally had a rough hole perhaps an inch in diameter in the wood. Merry went through the process again opposite the other hole.

  Almost pleased with her handiwork, she set the knife down and dragged the door into the room and put it lengthwise next to Culpepper. Steeling herself, she went to Wiley’s body and jerked his gun belt free. She put it around her own middle, feeling a little odd, but yet somehow comforted. Then she got Culpepper’s knife and slid it into the belt so she would have it handy. With a shrug, knowing it was necessary, she got some beans and bacon and put them on the stove to cook.

  She took the old mattress from the bed and put it on the door. She got her rope and cut off several lengths. She threaded an end of one piece through the hole in the door and knotted it. Then she did the same with another piece of rope in the other hole. Last, she put three pieces of rope under the door, ends lying straight out from each side.

  Then she worked Culpepper’s body onto the mattress on the door, trying not to jostle him too much. He groaned a couple of times, and seemed to fidget once, but otherwise was ob
livious. Then she knotted the ropes under the door around Culpepper to keep him in place.

  When she had her husband on the door, Merry sat back a few minutes, breathing hard. Her arms and legs trembled some from the unaccustomed exertion, but she would not let that slow her down.

  Merry went outside and unloaded Jody’s mule, tossing the supplies off as she hurried. She left the pack saddle on the animal, though. Then she backed the mule inside and as far into the room as she could get it. She tied the ends of the ropes that were through the holes in the door to the pack saddle. There was plenty of extra rope dangling down. Once again, it took some maneuvering, but she finally managed to get Culpepper outside, where she had more working room.

  She was tempted to just drag Culpepper along as he was, since that was easiest, but she decided the ride would be too rough on him. She had to get his body up a little, at least. With a smile, she picketed the mule. Then she got Culpepper’s buckskin and backed it up near to the mule.

  Merry unknotted the ropes from the pack saddle, and then tied them to the saddle horn on the buckskin, making sure each ran over the top of the pack saddle. “You make that mule stay where he is, Bear,” she ordered, having no idea if the dog would understand, or if he could do the job even if he did.

  It took some effort, as well as a heap of straining and shouting on Merry’s part, but it finally worked. Using the pack saddle as a lever, she had managed to lift the door—the litter, as she now saw it—-off the ground about two feet, at least on the side where Culpepper’s head was.

  The next part was a little tricky, too. Merry untied one of the ropes on the saddle horn and, making sure the litter did not tilt, she eventually got it tied to the pack saddle again. She rolled up the excess and hung it over one of the crossbars of the pack saddle. Doing the same procedure with the other rope was a little easier.

  Breathing a sigh of relief, Merry went in and ate her bacon and beans, and drank some coffee. The food bolstered her and she felt a little better as she walked outside. “You ready to go, Bear?” she asked. “Huh? You’re going to have to show me the way, you know.”

  She unhobbled Jody’s bay mare and the one mule still laden with supplies. Finally she unhobbled the other mule. Merry climbed on Culpepper’s buckskin, took the rope to the mule with Culpepper’s inert form, and pulled out, praying that either the other horse and especially the other mule—the one with the supplies—would follow her, or that Bear would make them follow.

  As she rode, following the huge mastiff as he trotted out a little head of her, Merry also prayed that she would get somewhere in time to save Culpepper.

  Three days later, Merry rode into a small town. Bear had led her here, and she was grateful. She did not know how much longer she could go on. She had slept hardly at all, and most of what sleep she had gotten was in the saddle. She was weaving from exhaustion and felt like death itself.

  Merry was dimly aware of people stopping to stare at her as she let the buckskin pick its way down the street. An older man hurried out of a building and stopped the horse. He was accompanied by two women, one older and pleasant-looking, the other young and quite attractive. Questions filtered through to her at least, but she ignored them. “Where am I?” she asked.

  “San Miguel,” Silas Stanton said. “My God, Missy, what’s happened here?”

  Merry again countered with a question. “There a doctor in town?”

  “Yes,” Stanton answered. “We’ll fetch him, but what happened?”

  “Shut up, Silas, and go fetch Doctor Parmenter,” Sarah commanded. “Can’t you see this poor girl’s done in? And Sheriff Culpepper looks half dead. Go. Go on, get.”

  Stanton nodded and hurried off. Two men came to Sarah’s aid as she eased Merry down from the horse. “Take her up to room six,” she ordered the men.

  As the men started to go, Daisy stopped them. “Please, Miss,” she pleaded, “where’s Jody? I got to know.” Tears welled up in her eyes.

  “Dead,” Merry whispered, overcome with grief. “Dead. He was...”

  “Enough,” Sarah barked. “Upstairs with her, boys.” She turned to the crowd. “Some of you other boys come over here and get Sheriff Culpepper upstairs, too. Come, hurry.”

  Stanton returned with Dr. Parmenter just as three men were carting Culpepper carefully upstairs. The two men hurried after them. Sarah put her arm around Daisy’s shoulders and slowly walked with the weeping young woman up into the room.

  Parmenter checked Culpepper over first, cut into his back, and pulled out the bullet. Then he sewed him up and bandaged the wound.

  “He going to live, Doc?” Stanton asked as Parmenter stepped back from Culpepper, wiping his hands on a cloth.

  Parmenter shrugged. “Hard to say right now. He’s lost a heap of blood, and it looks like this happened three, four days ago, to judge by the wound. It doesn’t seem there’s any infection yet, but I can’t be sure with such things. He’s a big, strapping fellow, and that’ll help him.”

  Parmenter turned and went across the room. “Now,” he said, “let’s see how this young lady is.”

  “I’m fine,” Merry whispered. She had fought off sleep all this time by waiting to hear what the physician had to say about Culpepper. Her anxiety helped her.

  “Yes, ma’am, you’re just fine,” Parmenter said. “You won’t mind if I take a look, though, would you?”

  “No, sir. Just as long as Jonas is all right.”

  “He’s as good now as he can be.” Parmenter began checking Merry. As he did, he asked, “What’s your relationship to Sheriff Culpepper?”

  “I’m his wife.”

  “He told me his wife was the most beautiful woman in Silverton. I didn’t believe him until now,” Parmenter said, lying with ease. He knew Culpepper, but had never really spoken much to him, and certainly not about such personal matters. But since the last part of the statement was undoubtedly true, he didn’t figure the lie was all that bad a thing.

  Merry flushed a little, but was close to tears. Wait’ll Jonas wakes up and sees my hair, she thought. He won’t think that no more. Then she fell asleep.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Merry slept for a solid sixteen hours, and when she awoke, it was in a panic. She thought then that everything had just been a dream—a horrible, dark vision from the depths of hell. Then she turned her head and saw Culpepper lying on the bed across the room, and she knew it was all real.

  Merry spun on her buttocks, swinging her feet out of the bed and onto the floor. She sat up, vestiges of sleep still clinging to her. It took her a few moments to remember where she was and the details of how she’d gotten here. Despair swept over her anew, threatening to choke the life out of her. One great sob burst from her lips before she managed to gain control of herself. Culpepper still needed her help, she told herself firmly, and she would do everything she possibly could to see that he recovered. Maybe when this was all over he wouldn’t want her anymore, she knew, and she could understand that, considering what had been done to her. Merry had a lot of confidence in the kind of man he was. There was no reason to think he’d cast her off. But that thought was ever present in her now.

  She stood and looked down at herself. Her clothes were filthy and tattered. She spotted a mirror and went to it, grimacing when she saw her hair. Where it once had been her crowning glory, a sleek, brown mass that tumbled down to her buttocks, it was now barely shoulder length and choppy. She shuddered when she remembered Ned Coakley coming at her with the knife back in that festering hellhole of a cabin. She had thought at first that the marshal-gone-bad was going to kill her, but he had grinned evilly and grabbed her long hair. Then he’d begun hacking at it with the knife, laughing maniacally, while his men added to the sickening cacophony. Her heart had sunk, then, and she’d felt almost as bad as she had the first time the filthy outlaws had taken her. The hair had been a symbol to her. As long as she had it, she felt like her old self, no matter what else happened to her. But the butchering of her dark silk
en tresses was an outward sign of the abuse she had suffered as a woman. It was there for all to see.

  Merry shuddered again and turned away from the mirror. She went to Culpepper’s side and bent over him. He was still breathing strong and steadily, but his skin had an unnatural luster and was coated with a sheen of sweat. She wiped the perspiration from his face with the edge of the blanket, fighting off the tears and despair that in so short a time had seemed to become a part of her.

  The door opened, and she spun, a little surprised, since Bear had not indicated that anyone was coming.

  Sarah Stanton entered quietly, looking toward Merry’s bed. When she saw it was empty, she looked around the room. Spotting Merry, Sarah smiled warmly and said, “You’re finally up, child. We were getting worried about you.”

  Merry managed to work up a small smile. “You’re the woman who helped me, aren’t you?” she asked.

  “Yes, child.” Sarah came into the room. “I’m Sarah Stanton. My husband and I own this hotel.” She put her arm around Merry’s shoulders and looked down at Culpepper. “He’s still alive,” she whispered. “And while he is, there’s always hope. Now come, child,” she urged, tugging Merry’s shoulders. “You’ll need to eat.”

  “I am hungry,” Merry admitted.

  “Well, come on, we’ll go to my kitchen and take care of that.”

  Merry jerked free of Sarah’s grasp. “No,” she said insistently, “I want to stay here.”

  Sarah nodded and smiled. “Of course, child. I’m not trying to force you into anything.”

  Merry smiled weakly. “I’m sorry, Miz Stanton,” she said. “I don’t mean to be troublesome.”

  “Of course you don’t, child. And...”

  “Please, Miz Stanton, my name is Merriam. I’d like for you to use it. Or Merry, if you prefer.”

  A small look of annoyance crossed Sarah’s face, but she shook it off. This young woman had every right to want her to use her name. She also had been through a lot; that much was obvious. “Of course, chi... Merry. Now, what do you want to eat? Or should I just make something and bring it up?”