by Phil Dunlap
“Name’s Bear Hollow Wilson. Mayor says you could use some help draggin’ this varmint up north where they can try him quick and hang the son of a bitch. Well here I am, ready to travel and able to give a fair day’s work in the process. Ain’t had a day off in five years. Lookin’ forward to a little change. This job pay anythin’?”
Cotton’s jaw dropped at the sight of the blacksmith. Broad in the shoulders, bald headed, with a full beard and thick eyebrows, Bear Hollow lived up to his name and more. Cotton figured this mountain of a man could lift his weight in iron bars and have plenty of strength left to wrestle a couple of cowpunchers at the same time.
“I expect the town could see its way to two dollars a day and grub. Glad to have you along, Mr. Wilson.”
“Don’t go getting’ formal on me, Sheriff. I go by Bear, plain and simple. Your offer sounds fair. I reckon I’m ready to go anytime you are,” said Wilson.
“As soon as I get McMasters trussed up proper and find his mount, I’ll get some ammunition, grab some blankets, and we’ll be set. The sooner we get on the trail, the less chance of anyone followin’,” said Cotton.
Bear Hollow nodded his acceptance, then said, “Tell you what, Sheriff, I know McMasters’s horse well enough, what say I go round the critter up? Might save a little time.”
“Thanks, Bear. Oh, and don’t say anything to anyone about where you’re going.”
“No need to concern yourself about that. I wouldn’t look kindly on one of my own townsfolk drawin’ down on me just to get at this rattler.” Bear Hollow lumbered out the door like a boulder rolling downhill. Cotton shot McMasters a glance and saw fear in the man’s eyes.
“Somethin’ got you worried, McMasters?”
“Uh-huh. That man’s one of them that swore to nail me to a wall if he ever got the chance. Looks like you just gave it to him. I’ll never see Apache Springs alive. You can bet on that.”
“Oh, you’ll get there alive, mister, but I can’t promise how long you’ll stay that way after a jury hears your case.”
Minutes later, Cotton heard a pounding on the back door to the jail. He opened it to see Bear standing between the jail and the outhouse holding the reins of three horses.
“Figured it would be best if I was to come around back,” he said. His pack, rifle, and bedroll were already loaded on a big, gray mare.
Cotton unlocked the cell and yanked McMasters out. He pushed his prisoner through the door and toward the awaiting horses. He asked Bear to help McMasters up on his horse, then turned to retrieve a shotgun and ammunition. While he was doing this, McMasters’s words to him, about Bear’s possible hidden plan to make sure the mine boss didn’t make it to trial, haunted him. Was he starting off on a journey with not one, but two, dangerous men?
As he was about to leave through the back door, the mayor came through the front.
“Sheriff Burke, what shall I tell anyone who asks about our prisoner?”
“You’ll think of something. But whatever it is, don’t let the truth get out. Now, remember, as soon as I get him to Apache Springs, I’ll telegraph you to gather up witnesses to the shooting and get them up there for a trial.”
“Yes, sir, I’ll do that. I’ll tell everyone you’re handling the situation and that I’ll let them know when the trial is to be, but, of course, I won’t let on that you’ve left town with McMasters.”
“I hope your townsfolk are of a mind to listen to you, Mayor; I don’t favor havin’ to shoot my way out of any ambushes set up by angry citizens. Also, you might remember to remain real tight-lipped whenever any of the miners are around.” Cotton went out back, quickly swung into the saddle, spun his horse around, and led the trio out of town, staying out of sight as much as possible by keeping to the alleys. He could feel the hair on his neck stand up as he turned his back on this dusty little village. A whole lot of hatred seemed to be building up fast, more than a little of it aimed straight at him. His confidence in the mayor’s promise to keep the whole matter confidential was fading, as well.
Then Cotton heard a couple of gunshots echo in the streets behind them.
Chapter 26
Virgil Cruz paced back and forth in front of the saloon. He didn’t like the idea of leaving Scat Crenshaw alone with Emily Wagner at the line cabin. He knew that if anything happened to her, Cotton Burke would spend the rest of his days settling the score. He wasn’t really afraid of the sheriff, but a man in love could be doubly deadly. And now that he’d committed to the kidnapping of Emily as his ace in the hole, he was uncertain that any of his hired gunmen could be trusted alone with an attractive woman any more than Scat. In fact, he wasn’t really convinced he could even trust himself. She was too damned pretty. He was silently wishing he could have come up with some other way to keep the sheriff off his trail until he and his men had pulled off the biggest train robbery in history. The sheriff with the fast gun was the only thing standing between him and a fortune. That’s why, against his better judgment, he’d decided to take such a chance by grabbing Emily Wagner. It was a decidedly risky move.
For now, it appeared Cotton Burke was heeding Cruz’s warning to stay clear if he wanted to see Emily alive again. The message Cruz had sent was blunt. But it was also a little disconcerting that while Cotton Burke seemed to be obeying the warning, he hadn’t been seen anywhere in the vicinity for a week. Where the hell is he? And what the hell is he up to? Cruz kept running these questions over and over in his mind.
The batwing doors flew open and Blade Coffman lurched outside.
“Hey, Virgil, come on back inside and have a drink with me and the boys. We’re celebrating the demise of old man Brennan and the disappearance of that sheriff.”
Cruz grabbed a handful of Blade’s shirt and pulled him close and slapped him across the mouth. “Listen, you loudmouth fool, there is still a deputy in town, and while he ain’t much, he has ears. And he knows where to find a deputy U.S. marshal no more’n a day’s ride into Arizona. That whiskey is loosening up your mouth. So, before you all take leave of your senses, I think it’s time you and the boys saddle up and head on out to the ranch rather than say somethin’ that could hang us. Do you understand, you addle-brained son of a mule?”
Blade glared at Virgil then pulled away from his grip, stumbled back against the whipsaw siding, and wobbled back inside. After a couple minutes, he reappeared with Ben Patch in tow. They silently walked past Virgil and went straight to where their mounts were tied. Virgil followed, mounted up, and led his besotted crew out of town. Cruz figured that with Hank Brennan out of the way, he’d have the run of the ranch, as there was no one there who dared stand against him, certainly not Cappy Brennan, who Cruz knew had the bravery of a mouse.
“Virgil, you figure anyone has found that old fool at the bottom of the ravine?” said Ben, the first to break the silence.
“I don’t know. If they have, they’ll figure he just got too close and toppled over. He ain’t been too sure of his footing ever since he got that leg broke,” snorted Cruz. “It don’t make a heap of difference, anyway, ’cause it’s time we took over that operation.”
“How about them that saw us ride out together? Ain’t they gonna think it’s strange when we come back and he don’t?” said Blade.
Virgil rubbed his chin for a moment. He reined in and took out the makings from his shirt pocket. He frowned as he tapped tobacco onto the paper, ran his tongue across the edge, rolled it, then struck a lucifer on his jeans and lit the cigarette. He blew out a stream of white smoke, staring off into the distance. Blade was right. If folks did make a connection between the three of them and Brennan’s “accident,” that deputy might start thinking things he shouldn’t. There were a couple of boys back at the ranch when they all rode out together. And there was Wu Chang. Maybe someone overheard Brennan order Virgil and his men to ride with him up to Saucer Valley to see where the Tulip boys were buried. Things weren’t shaping up to be as simple as Cruz would have liked. Complications were setting in. Unsavory
complications.
“Ben, you ride back to town and keep an eye on that deputy. See if anyone comes around asking questions about Brennan. With Dogman stayin’ at the line shack and keeping an eye on his brother, I feel better about leavin’ the widow woman there. If I find Scat’s laid a hand on her, I’ll skin them both. Dogman had better keep that demented rattler in line.
“Blade, you and me will ride on in like everything is fine. We’ll tell Wu Chang, Cappy, and anyone else that might ask that Brennan decided to ride on alone and sent us out to check on the south herd. Any questions?”
The other men shook their heads. Ben rode off to do as Cruz had ordered.
“Blade, what say you and me take the shortcut back by way of the rim to Saucer Valley. We’ll have a look-see down on old Hank’s remains, maybe even do him the honor of givin’ him a Christian burial.”
Blade Coffman, still chafing from Virgil’s rough admonishment right out front of the saloon, where the townsfolk could see, merely nodded and prodded his horse to follow in behind Cruz’s.
Cruz was no fool; he knew that Blade would love nothing better than to get even, to plug him in the back the first chance he got. But he wouldn’t, at least not until he got his hands on his share of what could be millions. Cruz would need to toss this mad-dog killer a bone to take his mind off getting even with him. Set him on another course altogether. A course that might even make him forget all about the incident in town.
“Blade, tell you what. I think you deserve to set some things right, things you maybe ain’t even thought about for a while. As soon as we hit that train, and you get your share of the bounty, Sheriff Cotton Burke is all yours. I won’t touch a hair on his head. In fact, that knoll overlooking the line shack would be a perfect spot for an ambush after I tell him where he can find his little lady. What d’ya think?”
Blade’s face brightened at Cruz’s words. “I think that’s a mighty fine idee. Yup, mighty fine.”
Chapter 27
Memphis Jack eased near the edge of the precipice where Hank Brennan and his horse had gone over, while Cappy and Wu Chang gathered the ropes and blankets.
“This ain’t gonna be easy, gents. That’s a long way down there. You got a plan?” Jack asked.
“Well, I figured to tie off one of these ropes to that boulder yonder, and the other ones to the mule. I’ll go down, wrap my father in blankets and tie the ropes around him. One of you can coax the mule to pull him up while I pull out so he don’t slam against the side of the cliff.”
“Might work. But I got a different take, that is if you don’t mind me buttin’ in,” said Jack.
“Go ahead, mister, but don’t take too long at it. Dad’s close to cashin’ in his chips, and I don’t intend to see that happen without me doin’ all I can to save him.” Cappy put his hands on his hips, his determination seeming to grow with each heaving breath.
“How about Wu Chang takin’ the reins of the horses and the mule? The mule can haul up your father, and each of our horses will pull us up. That way, we can all come up at the same time. You can be at his head; I’ll be at his feet. Ought to cut down on any chance of him getting twisted up in the ropes or being bashed on some of them jagged rocks juttin’ out along the way.”
“Mr. Stump, I think that’s a fine idea. Let’s get to it.” Cappy seemed somewhat relieved as he commenced to tying off the ropes and instructing Wu Chang as to his part.
Hank Brennan winced when dirt and debris came raining down on him, as Cappy and Jack struggled down the ropes to get to his side. Each of them had a blanket tied to his back, and the loose end of another rope was wrapped around Cappy’s shoulder. When they reached the stricken victim, Hank blinked in disbelief that he was actually looking at the possibility of being rescued. He tried to smile, but pain shot through him with the slightest move. Content to let nature take its course, he merely whispered, “Take her easy, boys, I ain’t much more’n a skin bag full of busted bones.”
“Hang on, Dad. We’ll have you outta here in no time,” Cappy said. He knew there was only about one chance in twenty that Hank Brennan would live to see another sunrise. The old man had been right; he was busted up bad. Real bad.
“Who’s this hombre with you, son?”
“Calls hisself Memphis Jack Stump. We met on the trail. He volunteered to help when I told him about your predicament.”
“Thanks, mister,” whispered Hank, trying to force a smile.
“Glad to help, Mr. Brennan. Now, you just lie quiet while we get you ready for a ride to the top,” said Jack.
With Cappy at his father’s shoulders, Jack began to slowly wrap the blankets around Brennan’s body, even covering his head to protect him from making contact with the rock face, taking care not to jostle him any more than necessary. Hank groaned with each move, as Jack began wrapping one end of the rope and tying it off, creating a sort of package like he’d seen storekeepers do.
“I’m right sorry if I got the ropes a tad tight, sir.”
“Don’t think nothin’ of it. All I want is to get off this godforsaken rock.”
When Jack was finished wrapping Hank up like storebought goods, he looked at Cappy. “He’s as ready to go as I can get him. Signal Wu Chang to start the mule and horses to backin’ up.”
Cappy cupped his hand and hollered up. They were quickly greeted by a gradual tightening of the ropes. The weight caused the ropes to squeak as the slack became taught. They were all three eased up off the ledge where Hank Brennan had spent the past day and a half. Cappy and Jack each had a hand on one end of the blanketed package that held their human cargo. Boots slipping and banging against the rock face of the cliff made for a rough trip to the top for the two of them, since they took all the bumps and bruises in order to keep Hank from further injury. Cappy lost his footing once and slammed his knee into a sharp rock that jutted out. He made no sound, though, despite the tear in his jeans and the blood that oozed from the gouge in his skin.
Once they were all safely on top, Cappy hastily began to throw off the rope that was secured around his waist and scramble to start untying his father. He tugged furiously at the stubborn knot.
“Hold on there, son!” Jack hollered. “Be damned careful you don’t get in such a hurry you bust him up worse than he already is.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Thanks.” Cappy let go of the rope, sat back and took a breath, then returned to the task with more deliberate care. “If you’ll kindly help me get him into the wagon, Mr. Jack, Wu Chang and I can get him to Doc Winters in town.”
Hank began trying to speak. Cappy pulled the blanket back in order to hear his father’s raspy whisper, “Listen, son, you’ll have to bring the doc out to the ranch. If Cruz is in town, he’ll know I ain’t dead like he intended and he’ll sure as hell try to finish the job. That man is the devil hisself, and he’ll stop at nothin’ to get what he wants. Whatever that is.”
“We’ll see to it he don’t get nothin’ but a rope for what he’s done,” said Cappy, turning to Jack. “Mr. Stump, I’m obliged for all you’ve done, but I got to ask one more favor, if you’ve a mind to stick around a mite longer.”
“Ask away. I got no place to go in particular. In fact, I was on my way out to your ranch lookin’ for a job when I run onto you.”
“If you would go into town and bring Doc Winters out, I’m sure we can oblige you with a job. We need a dependable, honest man out here. They’re hard to find nowadays.”
“I’ll bring the doc. And I’ll keep my mouth shut about what he’s bein’ asked to do.”
“Thanks, Mr. Stump. And here’s that two dollars I promised you,” said Cappy, reaching into his shirt pocket for two worn paper bills.
“Son, if you’ll drop that ‘mister’ crap, you can keep your money. I go by Jack. I’ll be back as soon as possible. Take it easy over them ruts, too. Your old man ain’t gonna feel too kindly about his rescue if you bust him up some more on the way to the ranch.”
After helping the other two get Han
k loaded onto the back of the buckboard, Jack mounted up and rode as fast as he could back the way he’d come from Apache Springs. His stroke of luck—helping save the life of the very man he’d hoped would give him a job and an opening into whatever it was that Virgil Cruz and his gang of owlhoots was up to—was turning out even better than hoped for. He spurred his horse on.
Just outside of town, he saw three men sitting along the road. He pulled off into a stand of trees and watched as they talked for a minute, then split up. Two continued on the way he’d just come. The other turned back toward town.
It crossed his mind that he may have just run onto Virgil Cruz and his men. He waited until the two passed by and then continued on to find the doctor, with a wide grin on his face.
Chapter 28
Scat Crenshaw watched Emily struggle to scoot as far back toward the wall as she could. The dirty blanket gathered in wrinkles beneath her as she squirmed awkwardly with hands bound. He edged toward her with a predatory glint in his eye that was unmistakable. He planned to have her whether Virgil Cruz wanted him to or not. And he damned well wasn’t going to wait any longer to taste the fruits of this forbidden tree. This woman excited Scat. Oh, yeah, she most certainly did.
Her increasing alarm made Scat even more excited. He got a thrill when people’s fear of him showed in their eyes. He thrived on intimidation, always pushing the very limits of others’ trepidation. When he could see terror on the face of a woman, even better. An almost fiendish exhilaration surged through his body as he watched Emily try to escape, knowing full well that it was impossible. He waited for her to accept the inevitable, which would lift his spirits to new heights and make her subjugation even more pleasurable. He would have been even more buoyed by a change in her attitude toward him, but there was clearly no sign of any acceptance in her beautiful eyes, only hatred and loathing. He was about to grab her and force her to bend to his will when the door to the line cabin flew open and Dogman stomped inside.