Killing Texas Bob

by Ralph Cotton

  ‘‘But he’s one more gun I’ll have on Texas Bob’s trail,’’ Bass submitted. ‘‘While he and the others keep Texas Bob hounded, I expect you can find him and take care of this once and for all.’’ Bass hadn’t expected a territory ranger to come riding in so soon after his brother’s death, especially one with a reputation like Sam Burrack’s. The more guns the better, he decided. ‘‘I hope you meant what you said about helping me any way you can.’’

  ‘‘Yes, Your Honor, of course I meant it,’’ the ranger replied. ‘‘I’m going to talk to Lady Lucky if she’s up to it.’’

  ‘‘Speak to Lady Lucky?’’ Bass’ expression changed only a little, but enough for Sam to notice. ‘‘I fail to understand how talking to her is going to hasten the capture of Texas Bob Krey.’’ He shook his large head. ‘‘No, no, let’s waste no time here in Sibley. I need you out there on the trail, where your skill in man-hunting will do some good.’’

  Sam stared at him. ‘‘I don’t waste time, Your Honor. I’ll speak to her while my horse gets grained and rested. Then I’ll get on Texas Bob’s trail.’’

  ‘‘I want you to realize that Lady Lucky is a friend of Texas Bob’s,’’ said Bass, agitation starting to show in his voice.

  ‘‘Being Bob’s friend doesn’t make her a liar, Judge Bass,’’ Sam said firmly. ‘‘I’d like to hear from her who was most at fault.’’

  ‘‘I already know who was most at fault,’’ said Bass, getting more irritated with the ranger. ‘‘What I need is for someone to ride out, find Texas Bob and ki—I mean bring him in for trial!’’

  ‘‘Which I will do,’’ Sam said firmly, still giving him a flat stare, ‘‘as soon as I’ve talked to Lady Lucky.’’ He also wanted to talk to Deputy Claude Price and ask him about paying Lepov to kill Texas Bob. But he wouldn’t mention that until he had Price standing right in front of him so he could spring the question on him and see the look on his face when he tried to answer.

  Three miles out of Sibley, Carter Roby brought his horse to a halt in a rise of dust. Behind him, the other two men, Ty Shenlin and Cinder Kane, did the same. Turning his horse and staring back toward Sibley, Roby said, ‘‘I know that blasted ranger recognized me. I can feel it in my bones.’’

  Shenlin and Kane, two gunmen recently up from Missouri, looked at one another. Kane spit out a wad of tobacco he’d been chewing and wiped his hand across his mouth. ‘‘Let’s ride back and kill him, then, if he’s making you jittery.’’

  ‘‘I’ve never been jittery, old man. Keep that in mind,’’ Carter Roby said with a trace of a threat in his voice.

  ‘‘Duly noted,’’ said Kane, his wrists crossed on his saddle horn, his expression flat and unimpressed. ‘‘Yet, again I ask, ‘Why don’t we ride back and kill him, if his presence disturbs you in any way?’ ’’

  ‘‘Disturbs me?’’ Roby’s face hardened. ‘‘Disturbed is something else I’ve never been.’’

  ‘‘Now, fellows . . .’’ Ty Shenlin smiled thinly. Rubbing his horse’s mane, he said to Roby, ‘‘You need to understand that my pal Cinder here ain’t exactly one to mealymouth around. He’ll call a thing the way it fits him and the rest of the world be damned.’’ He stopped rubbing his horse’s mane and added, ‘‘He doesn’t mean it to be rude or overbearing. Do you, Cinder?’’

  ‘‘Not at all,’’ said Kane, still wearing his same flat expression. Suddenly, as quick as a whip, his wrists uncrossed, his rifle came up from his saddle boot and he levered a round into the chamber before Roby had a chance to react. ‘‘You want him dead or not?’’ he asked, his expression unchanged.

  Roby froze, uncertain if Kane was asking Shenlin about killing him, or asking him about killing the ranger.

  ‘‘Well? It looks like it’s up to you, Roby. You’re the rod over this bunch,’’ Shenlin said, smiling.

  Roby felt a sense of relief. He was glad he hadn’t gone for his holstered Colt. Looking at the rifle in Kane’s hand, and the cool smile on Shenlin’s rough beard-stubbled face, he knew he needed to show them both he was not a man to hesitate when it came to killing, lawman or otherwise. ‘‘Yeah, why not?’’ he said in a tough tone.

  ‘‘Suits us,’’ said Shenlin.

  Drawing his rifle, Roby pointed it up at a cliff sixty feet above the trail. ‘‘From up there, we’ll watch for him when he comes up off the flatlands.’’ He started to gig his horse away from the trail and up a steep path through the rocky hillside. But when he looked back, he saw the two only staring at one another. ‘‘Well, what are you waiting for?’’ he asked.

  ‘‘How do we know he’s coming this way?’’ Shenlin called out to him. ‘‘Kane and I were talking about riding back to Sibley and cutting him down face-to-face in the middle of the street. Right, Kane?’’

  ‘‘Yeah,’’ said Kane, with his same flat expression. ‘‘I never figured on ambushing him, three on one.’’

  Damn it! Roby thought to himself, feeling his face redden. ‘‘Neither did I,’’ he said. ‘‘I meant we could watch for him from up there, then ride down and face off with him, if he came this way. Save us riding all the way back to Sibley, eh?’’ As he spoke he backed his horse from the steep path and turned it onto the trail.

  ‘‘Trouble with that is, if he doesn’t come riding this way, we’ll miss him altogether,’’ said Shenlin, the thin mocking smile on his face. ‘‘I’m sure you’ve considered that?’’

  Without answering, Roby jerked his horse around on the trail in the direction of Sibley. ‘‘All right, then! You want to ride back to town and kill him face-to-face, let’s do it!’’ He nailed his spurs to his horse’s sides and raced away, waving his rifle for them to follow him.

  Kane tapped his horse forward at a walk and said to Shenlin, ‘‘Jittery, I says.’’

  ‘‘Yep,’’ said Shenlin, gigging his horse along beside Kane’s, ‘‘I believe you’re right.’’

  Before the two had ridden a mile back toward Sibley, they spotted a rise of dust coming toward them and stopped midtrail and waited until two riders came around the turn and stopped in surprise. ‘‘Whoa! Don’t shoot!’’ said Frisco Phil, seeing three rifles pointed at him and Deputy Price. Both of their horses reared up. ‘‘What’s got you jakes so spooked?’’ he asked as his horse touched down and circled nervously until he clenched in on his reins.

  ‘‘Sorry, Frisco,’’ said Roby. ‘‘We thought you was that crazy ranger and his partner riding us down.’’

  ‘‘Jeez, Carter!’’ said Phil, settling his horse and readjusting his hat on his head. ‘‘You’re getting plumb dangerous to be around!’’

  ‘‘He apologized, didn’t he?’’ Kane said with his flat expression. ‘‘What more do you want?’’

  ‘‘Nothing more,’’ said Phil. ‘‘When I said we’d meet you along the trail, I didn’t mean we wanted to ride into your gun barrels.’’ He gave Kane a hard stare.

  ‘‘Easy, Frisco,’’ said Shenlin, again having to speak for his pal, Kane. ‘‘He didn’t mean no harm in what he said. Cinder is doing his best to get everybody’s bark on today.’’

  ‘‘Yeah? Well, he don’t want to do that with me,’’ Frisco said matter-of-factly. His stare cooled as he touched his hat brim respectfully toward the two men.

  ‘‘What are these men doing here?’’ Price asked, trying to keep his words between himself and Frisco Phil.

  ‘‘Meeting us,’’ Frisco replied with a bemused look. ‘‘Ain’t you been listening?’’

  ‘‘Meeting us for what?’’ Price asked, getting a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

  ‘‘Carter Roby is an old friend of mine,’’ said Frisco Phil, ‘‘and these two are some new friends of his. You know, like you’re a new friend of mine?’’

  ‘‘I know what new and old means,’’ said Price. ‘‘I’m asking what’s the deal here.’’

  ‘‘The deal is they’re riding with us,’’ said Frisco. ‘‘I figured five guns are better than two, hunting a bad man like
Texas Bob.’’ He grinned.

  Price was having none of it. ‘‘Splitting a thousand dollars five ways. Uh-uh,’’ he said with suspicion. ‘‘That’s only two hundred each. That’s not enough to make it worthwhile.’’

  ‘‘But it’s two hundred and fifty each if we kill you,’’ Kane said bluntly.

  Price bristled, but with a fearful look on his face. His hand clutched his gun butt.

  ‘‘There you go again, Cinder.’’ Shenlin chuckled. To Price he said, ‘‘Blow down, Deputy. It’s just his way of funning with you. Right, Cinder?’’

  ‘‘Yeah, funning,’’ said Cinder Kane with his same flat expression.

  ‘‘You’ve got more in mind than killing Texas Bob, don’t you?’’ said Price. ‘‘Let me remind you, I might be a blacksmith, but I’m also a sworn part-time lawman.’’

  ‘‘Oh . . . come to think of it, we might have something more in mind at that,’’ said Frisco, trying to sound cagey, ‘‘although killing Texas Bob is part of it.’’ He looked Price up and down. ‘‘You need to calm yourself down and get acquainted with your new partners.’’ He gestured a hand, taking in the endless rocky badlands. ‘‘You might have used to be a part-time lawman, but you’re riding with some full-time desperadoes now.’’

  Chapter 6

  The ranger wasn’t surprised when he talked to Lady Lucky. He found her propped up in a spare bed in the back room of the doctor’s office, and she told him everything. Davin Bass had started the fight. He had fired first and he’d gone down after killing one player. There was no doubt in Lady’s mind that he would have killed Texas Bob next.

  ‘‘Are you going to be all right, Lady?’’ Sam asked as he fluffed up the pillow behind her head before taking his leave.

  ‘‘The doctor says I am,’’ Lady Lucky replied with a weak smile. ‘‘I feel better seeing you show up in the midst of all this. There’ll be a lot of guns on Texas Bob’s trail, wanting to collect that reward.’’ She managed to grasp Sam’s hand before he stepped away from her bed. ‘‘I know you’ll see he gets a fair deal.’’

  ‘‘You can count on it. Now get mended and get back on your feet, Lady,’’ Sam said. Then he turned and left the room.

  That’s that. Texas Bob fired in self-defense, Sam told himself as he stepped up into his saddle and reined his horse into the dirt street.

  But no sooner had he nudged his horse along at a walk than Judge Bass hurried out from the sheriff’s office and summoned him to a halt. ‘‘Not so fast, Ranger!’’ the judge called out. ‘‘I demand to hear what Lady Lucky had to say to you.’’

  ‘‘You demand, Your Honor?’’ Sam replied in the coolest tone he could offer.

  Seeing the impassive look on the ranger’s face, the judge could tell Lady Lucky hadn’t been sympathetic to him or his dead brother’s position. ‘‘Yes, I demand, Ranger Burrack!’’ he said angrily, pointing a plump finger at Sam. ‘‘I am the territorial judge, this is my jurisdiction, and you are a servant of the law!’’

  Sam only stared at him, staying cool, watching the judge grow more excited as he spoke. Seeing the composed way in which the ranger stared down at him, the judge forced himself to take a breath before continuing. ‘‘Look, Ranger’’—he paused, pulled a white handkerchief from inside his lapel and blotted his sweaty brow—‘‘I’ve tried to be tactful with you about this matter. With anyone else I wouldn’t have to spell things out this way. I want you to show some loyalty to our judicial system here. This is a situation out of the ordinary. In matters of this sort, one hand should wash the other. Don’t you agree?’’

  ‘‘No.’’ Sam shook his head slowly. ‘‘One hand doesn’t have to wash the other if both hands are clean.’’

  ‘‘Why, you ungrateful—’’ the judge fumed. His face reddened in anger and embarrassment. ‘‘I could have the badge ripped from your chest for talking to me in that manner,’’ he said, his thick fists clenched tightly at his sides.

  ‘‘I suppose you could.’’ The ranger glanced down at the badge on his chest. Lowering his voice, he said, ‘‘But the best thing for you to do is let this thing simmer down some. You’ve put money on a man’s head not because he’s guilty of murder but because he killed your brother in self-defense.’’

  But the judge would have none of it. ‘‘I asked you unofficially to bring this Texas Bob to justice. You refused to cooperate. So now, in an official capacity, I am ordering you to—’’

  ‘‘Careful, Judge Bass.’’ Sam cautioned him. ‘‘You’re turning this matter into a runaway coach. The farther it goes the faster it gets. You best get off now while you still can.’’

  But the judge only glared at him. ‘‘Spare me your sage frontier advice, Burrack,’’ he said with sarcasm. But he considered the ranger’s words enough to re-phrase what he had started to say. ‘‘I am not officially ordering you. But as one servant of the law to another, I am strongly urging you to bring Texas Bob in, dead or alive! Now, are you going to find him or not?’’

  ‘‘Yes indeed, Judge,’’ Sam replied. ‘‘I’m going to look for Texas Bob, if for no other reason than to tell him about the price you’ve placed on his head and let him know that the law is not hunting for him.’’

  ‘‘How dare you!’’ the judge growled as Sam touched his gloved fingertips to the brim of his sombrero and nudged his horse along the street. ‘‘You’ll be finished when I’m through with you, Ranger! You might just as well take your badge off and throw it in the dirt!’’

  Sam didn’t look back.

  Watching the ranger ride away and seeing the faces of townsfolk turn toward the sound of his angry raised voice, the judge ducked his head slightly and walked rigidly back to the sheriff’s office. From above the swinging doors of the Bottoms Up Saloon and Brothel, Tommy Rojo stared, grinning, licking a streak of beer foam from his upper lip. ‘‘Now that is one unhappy Your Honor going there,’’ he said idly.

  One of the Bottoms Up girls stepped up beside him and ran a slim finger along the edge of his ear. ‘‘Are we going upstairs now, or what, cowboy?’’ she purred.

  Rojo jerked his head away roughly, without taking his eyes off the judge. ‘‘I’ll tell you when and if we’re going upstairs, Sugar Lou,’’ he said, ‘‘and don’t ever call me ‘cowboy’ again, understand?’’

  ‘‘I call everybody cowboy,’’ said Sugar Lou.

  ‘‘Not me, you don’t,’’ said Rojo, still watching the judge, seeing him slam the office door behind himself. ‘‘Now you’ve been warned. I ain’t no stinkin’ cowboy.’’

  ‘‘Oh, I see,’’ Sugar Lou said coldly. She backed up a step and threw a hand on her hip. ‘‘Then what are you, Mr. Better-than-Thou?’’

  ‘‘I’m a manhunter, Sugar,’’ Rojo said, the smile leaving his face, replaced by a stern expression. ‘‘I hunt down dangerous men for the bounty on their heads.’’

  ‘‘Oh my.’’ Sugar Lou mockingly rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. ‘‘All right, then, bounty man, are we going upstairs or not?’’

  ‘‘Not right now,’’ said Rojo, still not looking at her as he drained the last sip from his beer mug and handed it sidelong to her. ‘‘Business is calling for me.’’

  Rojo shoved his way through the bat-wing doors and walked across the street to the sheriff’s office. Beside Sugar Lou, a pimp named Walter Truelock stepped up and said, ‘‘What happened with him? You were supposed to take him up.’’

  Sugar Lou sighed and held out the empty beer mug on her crooked finger. ‘‘He said he’s a bounty hunter. He saw the judge and took off after him—said it was business.’’

  ‘‘Yeah?’’ Truelock stared after Rojo, watching him walk into the sheriff’s office. ‘‘Every stiff who owns a gun is after that miserable reward the judge put out on Texas Bob.’’ He scratched his chin in contemplation, then added, ‘‘I might ought to go after it myself. I could use the money, even though it ain’t a lot.’’

  Sugar Lou shook her head. ‘‘Everybody’s going after Texas
Bob. What are they going to do if they’re unlucky enough to find him?’’

  ‘‘Yeah, you’re right. That’s a bad idea.’’ Truelock let his tapping fingers fall away from the small ivory-handled derringer in his vest pocket.

  Inside the sheriff’s office, Judge Bass looked up from writing as Rojo closed the door behind himself. ‘‘There you are, Mr. Rojo. Good,’’ said the judge. ‘‘I’m filling out the papers for you to draw your money from the bank right now.’’

  ‘‘Obliged, Your Honor,’’ said Rojo. Taking his hat from his head, he gestured with it toward the street. ‘‘I couldn’t help but see the ranger and you having words out there . . .’’ He let his words trail off, then said, ‘‘Over your poor brother’s murderer, no doubt?’’

  The judge only stared at him for a moment in contemplation. All right, Ranger, if you can follow Price and Frisco Phil to Texas Bob’s hideout, so can this bounty hunter, he thought to himself. Then he said aloud to Rojo, ‘‘Let me ask you something, Mr. Rojo. Do you believe in the saying ‘One hand washes the other’?’’

  ‘‘Like it’s the gospel itself, Your Honor.’’ Tommy Rojo grinned widely, holding up his hands and wiggling his fingers. ‘‘Now, you just tell me what you want done, and let’s start washing.’’

  Darkness had enfolded the rock canyons while Mary Alice and Texas Bob gathered the tin dinner-ware, washed, dried it and put it away. While she wiped the tabletop with a damp cloth, she watched Bob kneel on a thick bearskin in front of the glowing hearth and take off his shirt. Raising the glow of an oil lamp, he looked closely at the bandage around his shoulder, relieved at finding no fresh blood since checking it that morning.

  ‘‘I’m healing right along, thanks to your tender care and handling,’’ he said to Mary Alice. He rounded his stiff shoulder as if to show her his improvement. At the edge of the hearth, the big dog, Plug, lay flat, his forepaws spread, his chin resting on the plank floor. He observed the man and woman curiously.

  ‘‘You can’t tell anything without taking off the bandage,’’ Mary Alice said. She walked to the bearskin, wiping her hands on a clean dishcloth. ‘‘Here, let me take a look,’’ she said, kneeling beside Bob.