Killing Texas Bob

by Ralph Cotton

  Seeing that it was in fact the ranger, Texas Bob felt a little relieved. But as he took a step forward with his rifle held out in the same manner, he glanced back over his shoulder toward the rocky hillside and noted the same rise of dust. ‘‘If I didn’t trust your word, Ranger, we’d never have gotten this far along,’’ he said, now that he could watch Sam’s eyes and judge his intentions. ‘‘Are you going to try to take me in?’’

  ‘‘You have my word, I’m not taking you anywhere you don’t want to go, unless you had something to do with this,’’ said Sam, seeing the splatter of blood on Bob’s shirt, and the smear of red across his cheek.

  ‘‘You’ve got my word I didn’t,’’ said Bob. He lowered his rifle an inch, watching the ranger to see if he did the same.

  Sam nodded and followed suit, lowering his rifle until the barrel pointed at the ground.

  ‘‘Thorn’s deputy, Claude Price, and three other drygulchers were dogging him. I figure they did this. I came upon him and tried to help.’’ He gave a sidelong nod toward the ground beneath the coach. ‘‘They waited here for us. They killed him all the same.’’

  As Bob spoke, Sam stepped over and opened the stagecoach door.

  ‘‘The driver, Norbert Block, his guard, Teddy Ware. And the third one there must have been a passenger, I suppose,’’ said Bob.

  Seeing Carter Roby’s dead face, Sam said with a grim expression, ‘‘This is Carter Roby, one of the thieves, if I had to speculate. He likely got himself killed by the shotgun rider, judging from the buckshot in the face.’’

  Texas Bob looked at him, more relieved. ‘‘So you do believe I had nothing to do with this?’’

  ‘‘Yes, I believe you,’’ said Sam. ‘‘I also believe what Lady Lucky said about the shooting in Sibley being self-defense.’’ He looked at Bob. ‘‘Now what we’ve got to do is get to Sibley before more shooters show up looking to claim a reward. Looking over your shoulder long enough can turn a man into a killer.’’

  ‘‘Thorn said he could make the judge listen to reason and abide by the law,’’ Bob said. ‘‘Now that he’s dead, where does that leave me?’’

  ‘‘In the same place,’’ said Sam. ‘‘Bass is not above the law just because he’s a judge. You’ll have to go in under my custody, for your own safety, in case any more guns start pointing at you. There’s a fellow named Rojo who is a straight-up back-shooter. We’ve got him, and a Frenchman named Lepov, the deputy and his men, and who knows how many others to look out for until we get to Sibley.’’ He nodded at the rifle in Bob’s hand. ‘‘So you can keep your rifle until we get into town. Then you’ll have to turn it over to me. That’ll make everything official until we get Bass to drop this bounty and get the word out that you’re not wanted.’’

  ‘‘I hope you know what you’re talking about, Ranger,’’ said Texas Bob. ‘‘I came looking for Thorn to clear this up. Once he went down it hit me that the best thing for me to do was get out of here. I could’ve gone to my place, taken Mary Alice and headed for Mexico. Nobody would have seen me again.’’ He paused for a moment of serious consideration and said, ‘‘Maybe that’s still the best thing to do’’

  ‘‘I won’t tell you what you ought to do, Bob,’’ said the ranger. ‘‘But if it was me, I’d want to get this straightened out and clear my name before I went anywhere.’’ He gestured toward the stagecoach. ‘‘Why run from the law? You’re innocent.’’

  ‘‘You have a lot more faith in the law around here than I do, Ranger,’’ said Bob. ‘‘Don’t forget, it was the law that jackpotted me in the first place.’’

  ‘‘Price is no lawman,’’ said Sam. ‘‘He could have been if he’d walked straight. But when it came to testing, he first abused the power of being a lawman by taking a personal grudge against you. Now look what he’s sank to, robbing, murdering.’’ He shook his head. ‘‘Don’t even mention him and the law in the same breath. We’ll get this thing straightened out. You’ve got my word.’’

  ‘‘I’m going to have to trust somebody wearing a badge, Ranger,’’ Texas Bob said. ‘‘Looks like you’re the one.’’

  Lepov rode hard, not resting his tired horse until he’d reached a place where the high trail meandered through a long deep ravine. There, looking back over his shoulder, he stepped down from his saddle and led his horse as he wiped dust and sweat from his face with a black bandanna. When the exhausted animal stumbled and faltered behind him, the impatient Frenchman yanked hard on the reins and cursed and threatened, ‘‘Keep up with me, you lazy beast, or I will have you for my dinner this evening!’’

  The animal struggled to right itself and trudged forward. But not more than fifty yards along the trail between two high-reaching rock walls, Lepov let out a tired breath and plopped down on a broken boulder. ‘‘Cawboy Bob can go to Hades for all I care,’’ he grumbled, staring back in the direction of the stagecoach. ‘‘He can take the ranger with him!’’ His voice grew louder and more angry as he spoke. He heard it echo out along the ravine and fade upward and away. But almost before the echo had died, he heard a spill of rocks rattle down the wall across from him and, looking up, he saw two men pointing rifles down at him.

  ‘‘Don’t move, Frenchy,’’ Frisco called out, ‘‘or I’ll shoot your eyes out!’’

  Lepov’s eyes widened in alarm; he raised his hands instinctively. But when he recognized the other rifleman as Claude Price, he lowered his hands and said, ‘‘Instruct your friend not to point his gun at me, imbecile. I am too tired for your foolish games.’’

  ‘‘What did he call you?’’ Frisco asked Price, cocking his head with a bemused look.

  ‘‘Never mind,’’ said Price. ‘‘He’s got some peculiar ways.’’

  ‘‘I see,’’ said Frisco. ‘‘Is this the French bounty man you told me about?’’

  The two began working their way down to the trail, step after careful step. Across from them, above Lepov, Shenlin and Kane started doing the same, making their descent to the winding trail.

  ‘‘Yeah, that’s him,’’ Price said with a bit of contempt in his voice. ‘‘We’ve got to get rid of him before that stage comes rolling through here.’’

  ‘‘Uh, uh, uh,’’ said Lepov, wagging a bare finger back and forth in his cropped black glove. ‘‘I hear you talking about me. That is not polite.’’ He gave Price a strange taunting grin. Then he slumped as if settling himself in for a long stay and said, ‘‘I refuse to go anywhere. My horse is tired and so am I.’’

  ‘‘Get rid of this fool, or else kill him,’’ Frisco whispered sidelong to Price.

  ‘‘I’ll handle it,’’ said Price, not bothering to lower his voice as he stepped clear of the rock wall and walked toward Lepov. ‘‘All right, Mr. Lepov, did you kill Texas Bob the way I paid you to do? I know you had to see him along the trail back there.’’

  ‘‘Yes, I saw him. No, I did not kill him,’’ said Lepov. ‘‘I had him in my sights, but a nosy ranger arrived and diverted me.’’ He shrugged. ‘‘I killed Sheriff Thorn, who was with him, though.’’

  ‘‘Oh, you killed Thorn?’’ Price and Frisco looked at one another. ‘‘Are you sure?’’

  Lepov looked incensed. ‘‘Of course I am sure, imbecile. I am always sure who I kill and who I do not kill.’’ He looked all around at Frisco, Shenlin and Kane as they pressed closer in a half circle around him.

  ‘‘So, you didn’t kill Texas Bob,’’ said Price. ‘‘I take it you didn’t kill the dove, Mary Alice, either?’’

  ‘‘No, I have not found her yet.’’ He shrugged. ‘‘But I am in no hurry. We did not say when I must kill them.’’

  ‘‘Give me my money back,’’ Price said bluntly.

  ‘‘Don’t be absurd, imbecile,’’ said Lepov. ‘‘It is not my policy to give back money once I have accepted it.’’

  ‘‘Don’t call me imbecile again.’’ Price bristled, knowing how it looked, his allowing this man to call him such a name and his doing nothing about it.
>
  Lepov smiled and shrugged again. ‘‘Don’t be such an American sorehead. I told you I call you imbecile because I like you, nothing more.’’

  ‘‘Give me my money back,’’ Price insisted.

  Friso, Shenlin and Kane watched intently.

  ‘‘I have explained my policy to you,’’ said Lepov. ‘‘If you have difficulty understanding it, I advise you to seek someone who can explain things to an imbecile .’’ He looked back and forth at the gunmen and chuckled lightheartedly. Then, seeing Price’s grim expression, he made a frightened face and said, ‘‘Uhhh, I am scared.’’ Settling down, he said, ‘‘What are you going to do, imbecile? Shoot me? Because, let me warn you, if you do, the shot will echo off these rocks and be heard all the way back across th—’’

  Price’s bullet cut him off, striking him just beneath his right eye and flipping him backward, his blood and bone fragments splattering on the rocks behind him.

  Shenlin, Kane and Frisco looked at one another without saying a word as Price stepped forward, shoving his Colt back into its holster. Silently he went through the dead Frenchman’s clothes until he came out with a roll of bills, riffled through them and stuck them in his shirt pocket.

  ‘‘You paid him up ahead to kill Texas Bob?’’ Frisco asked as Price turned around and stepped away from the body on the ground.

  Price lifted his Colt from its holster again and said in a tight raw voice, ‘‘Yeah. What about it?’’

  ‘‘Nothing,’’ said Frisco, taking a step back, then seeing Price flip out the empty cartridge shell from his Colt and replace it with a fresh round. ‘‘Just being curious, is all.’’

  Price looked back and forth among the three, the Colt still in hand. ‘‘I know it was a dumb thing to do, paying first. But that didn’t make me an imbecile, did it?’’

  ‘‘Not in my book,’’ said Kane solemnly.

  ‘‘Mine neither,’’ said Shenlin with a flat expression.

  ‘‘Do you think it’s true, him killing the sheriff?’’ Frisco asked, changing the subject.

  ‘‘I hope so. I expect we’ll know when that stage gets here,’’ Price said. ‘‘If Thorn is dead, I get to start all over, free as a bird. We all do. Everybody will have to take our word for what happened out here.’’

  ‘‘Yeah.’’ Frisco said. ‘‘And our word is as good as gold, especially with the territorial judge acting in our favor.’’ He grinned and watched Price shove his Colt back into its holster. ‘‘All we’ve got to do is kill Texas Bob and whoever is with him, take our money and drive that stage on into Sibley, bold as brass. Far as I’m concerned, we killed the men who robbed it.’’

  ‘‘Yes, the same men who murdered Sheriff Thorn, don’t forget,’’ said Price.

  ‘‘Forget that he killed our beloved sheriff?’’ said Frisco in mock astonishment. ‘‘How could I ever forget something like that?’’ The four laughed heartily among themselves.

  Chapter 12

  When the ranger and Texas Bob reached the hills without incident, they gave one another a wary look as they traveled slowly up the rocky trail. The question was not if they would be set upon by Price and the other gunmen—the real question was when, Sam told himself. On their way across the open land, Bob had told him about the hidden bag of money lying under the rock. The ranger knew that men like these weren’t about to let that money slip through their fingers, no matter how many people they had to kill.

  For the next hour they traveled upward, following the twisting trail deeper into the rocky hillsides, prepared for trouble at any second. As they reached a short flat stretch of trail they both spotted the abandoned horse at the same time. Off the trail a few yards from the horse they saw Lepov’s black cape flutter on a breeze.

  ‘‘I see it,’’ Sam said, feeling Bob nudge him with his elbow. Stopping the stage and setting the brake, both he and Texas Bob climbed down and walked forward cautiously.

  Bob stayed back a few feet and kept his eyes on the rocks above them, his rifle poised and ready, while the ranger stooped down beside Lepov’s body and turned him over. ‘‘Here’s one who won’t be hunting for you anymore,’’ he said quietly, seeing the bullet hole in the Frenchman’s face, the splatter of blood on the rock wall. ‘‘It’s the French bounty hunter, the one who first told me about what happened in Sibley. Price hired him to kill you.’’

  Without taking his eyes from scanning the rocks above them, Texas Bob replied, ‘‘Yes, and like as not it was Price who put that bullet in him.’’ He shook his head. ‘‘No wonder Price wanted Thorn dead.’’

  ‘‘He’s got a lot to answer for,’’ Sam said under his breath, turning loose of Lepov and letting him flop back over on his face. Without setting his rifle aside, he took the Frenchman by one wrist and dragged him facedown to the stage. Opening the stage door and shoving the body inside, the ranger stepped back down and walked over to the tired horse.

  As he helped Texas Bob keep watch on the rocky hillsides, he loosened the horse’s saddle one-handed and let it drop to the ground. Loosening and dropping its bridle as well, he said, ‘‘They didn’t even bother hiding the body or chasing this horse away. They knew we had to come this way to get the stage to Sibley.’’

  ‘‘Yes,’’ Bob agreed, ‘‘and they know they’ve got another five miles of this kind of cover to their advantage.’’ As he spoke he backed toward the stage. He waited until the ranger was back on the driver’s seat, and then he climbed up and seated himself.

  ‘‘There’s a place up ahead where the trail turns out of the sunlight and runs under a deep cliff overhang,’’ Sam said almost in a whisper. ‘‘I’ll be getting off there.’’

  ‘‘Right,’’ said Bob, still watching the upper edges of the rock wall.

  Atop the rugged wall, Price and Frisco kept a guarded watch on the big coach as it rolled slowly on along the trail. ‘‘I say they never even heard the gunshot a while ago,’’ said Price. ‘‘Even if they did, so what? We’re here, they know it. Let’s get this thing over with. The quicker they’re dead, the better I like it.’’

  ‘‘Relax, Dep—I mean Price,’’ said Frisco, taking the ex-deputy more seriously now that he’d seen a dark, hardened change come over him. ‘‘The deeper we lead them along this trail, the less chance of them ever getting out alive.’’ He grinned and gestured toward their horses and the other two men standing nearby. ‘‘Let’s give them another half mile. There’s a path that runs down there. It’ll be easier carrying the money back up.’’

  On the trail, when the stage had gone a hundred yards farther along, Texas Bob swung his rifle sidelong suddenly, only to see Lepov’s tired horse moping alongside them. ‘‘This trail is getting me coiled tighter than a rattlesnake.’’ He let out a breath, but kept his rifle up and his eyes on the high rocky edge a hundred feet above the trail.

  Looking ahead to where the trail lay in a dark shadow beneath a cliff overhang for thirty yards, Sam said under his breath, ‘‘Past there is where I figure they’ll hit us, while we’re riding out of the darkness back into sight.’’

  ‘‘Let me know what you need me to do,’’ said Bob, scanning upward.

  ‘‘I want you to climb down out of sight, inside the coach,’’ Sam said. ‘‘Tie the traces off snug and let the horses have their way until it’s safe to come out.’’

  Bob looked at him. ‘‘The horses will do all right. But I can’t give you much help from inside there.’’

  ‘‘If this works I won’t need much help,’’ said Sam, checking his rifle as he spoke.

  ‘‘And if it doesn’t work?’’ Bob asked flatly.

  ‘‘Then it won’t matter, will it?’’ Sam said. ‘‘You’ll have to make a run for it on your own.’’

  ‘‘Uh-uh,’’ said Bob. ‘‘I’m not making a run for it without you. We both ride out of here together, or we stay here for keeps. I’m tired of everybody who’s on my side getting killed.’’

  ‘‘Fair enough,’’ Sam nodded, watching the stage
roll closer to the deep shaded overhang.

  Atop the rocky edge, Frisco Phil and Price watched from the side of the trail while Kane and Shenlin climbed into place across from them. Looking down as the stage disappeared into the darkness, Frisco said to Price, ‘‘There they go, pard. As soon as they roll into sight, the three of yas let them have it.’’

  ‘‘What do you mean the three of us?’’ Price gave him a questioning look. ‘‘What are you going to be doing?’’

  ‘‘I’ll be doing my share, pard,’’ said Frisco. ‘‘I’m heading down to the trail.’’ He added in a bit of a sarcastic tone, ‘‘That is, if it’s all right with you.’’

  Price just stared at him, but his expression demanded more of an explanation.

  ‘‘I’ll be ready to grab the money in case the gunfire spooks those stage horses and they make a run for it,’’ Frisco said. ‘‘We don’t want the stage running off this trail, and our money scattered all over the hillsides, do we?’’

  ‘‘All right, go ahead,’’ Price said, relenting, seeing Frisco’s point.

  ‘‘Much obliged,’’ Frisco said in his same sarcastic tone. Not wanting to discuss it any further, he pulled his bandanna up over the bridge of his nose, turned and slipped away into the rocks and down toward the trail.

  Looking out over the trail to the other steep hillside, Price watched Shenlin and Kane slip along through the rocks in a crouch until they reached a point almost directly across from him. He acknowledged them with a guarded wave of his gloved hand. Then he stooped down out of sight and waited, cursing himself silently. All this out of his raw bitter spite for Texas Bob Krey.

  ‘‘Damn fool,’’ he grumbled crossly to himself. But he realized there was nothing he could do now but see this thing through no matter what the outcome. Once this was over, he promised himself, he’d walk the straight and narrow from now on. You’ve got my word on that, he thought to himself, not even realizing exactly who he’d made his promise to. God? Himself? He didn’t know; he didn’t care. For now he needed to concentrate on the killing at hand. He cleared his mind and waited tensely.