Cotton's War

by Phil Dunlap

  All the two of them could do was watch the murderer escape into the hands of his own men and freedom.

  But as McMasters neared his men, waving and shouting triumphantly, one of them popped out from his cover behind some low rocks and mesquite and raised a double-barreled shotgun. In one single smoky blast, he pumped a shotgun round into the oncoming McMasters. Struck squarely in the chest from the twelve-gauge’s double-aught pellets, McMasters stumbled backwards. He fell to the ground with a groan and lay still, an expression of disbelief etched permanently on his grizzled face. He’d been blasted into eternity by one of his own men.

  “What the hell did we just see, Sheriff?” said Bear, his eyes wide with surprise.

  “An execution. Plain and simple.”

  As Cotton, Bear, and the townsfolk held their fire, several miners emerged from cover, took hold of McMasters’s corpse, and dragged him to an awaiting horse. They threw him over the saddle, mounted up, and started back toward their mining camp. The townsfolk slowly eased down from the safety of the foothills and joined Cotton and Bear as they collectively stared incredulously after the departing miners.

  “I’ll be damned” was all Cotton could think to say.

  Cotton and Bear watched as the miners began to ride off with the body of McMasters. One man reined his horse, then rode back, stopping in front of Cotton.

  “Name’s Hicks. I ’spect we owe an explanation for what we done.”

  “Wouldn’t mind one, if you’ve a mind,” said Cotton, still clearly bewildered by what had happened.

  Hicks leaned forward on the pommel, hands stacked. “McMasters was one mean son of a bitch. When he wasn’t kickin’ the stuffin’ outta one of us, he was taking his bad temper out on someone in town. He shot the marshal for no reason except sheer meanness. When we saw how the townsfolk was lookin’ at us like we was no more than a bunch of rabid skunks, fit only to be shot, we took a vote, and the majority decided it was time to set things right. But we couldn’t let someone else do what needed to be done, so we come out here to do it ourselves. No offense, Sheriff, but if he got to a judge, he coulda got off scot-free. Ain’t that right?”

  “It’s possible, but not likely. There’s no doubt he was guilty, sure as hell,” said Cotton. “He was bound to hang.”

  “We couldn’t take the chance. If he had escaped justice, like as not he’d have come back and commenced where he left off, and this time some of us mighta paid the price. We need the town as much as they need us. We deal with our own when they step outta line. There’s only a handful that feels different. We’ll deal with them as need be,” said Hicks.

  “Who’ll run the mine?” said Cotton.

  “I reckon the bank where McMasters borrowed the money to buy the mine in the first place will find a new owner. The mine’ll survive. There’s too much ore there for it not to.” Hicks tipped his hat, spun his horse around, and trotted off to catch up with the others.

  Cotton had never run across anything like this before in his career as a lawman. These men had committed murder themselves by shooting down an unarmed man. But, on the other hand, McMasters was guilty by his own admission, and would have hanged. Since Cotton had no authority in the matter anyway, being outside his county, his thoughts turned to more pressing matters in Apache Springs. He stuck out his hand to Bear.

  “It looks like your services are no longer required. Thanks for your help, Bear. Maybe we’ll meet again.”

  Bear shook his hand and began to mount up. “Anytime, Sheriff. If you ever need someone to back you with a big gun, gimme a holler,” he called back as he joined the other townsfolk. Cotton felt a wave of relief that he could now return to Apache Springs and set about freeing Emily Wagner.

  Chapter 31

  Jack looked around carefully as he brought the buggy to a halt in front of the stone porch of the Brennan ranch house. He leapt out and rushed to the front door. Doc Winters followed uneasily. Wu Chang opened it before he had a chance to knock.

  “Prease hurry inside, sirs, Missa Hank up stair in bed,” Wu Chang said, leading the way with hurried steps.

  When they entered the bedroom where Hank Brennan lay twisted and groaning, Doc Winters seemed to sober up almost in an instant. He went to Hank’s side and began pulling medical devices and bandages out of his bag. He turned to Wu Chang and asked that he boil some water and bring it in a large bowl. The Chinaman left quickly, pulling the door shut behind him. Jack grabbed the door before it closed and let himself out of the room.

  “Wu Chang, has anyone seen this Cruz fella or any of his men since we got back?” Jack asked barely above a whisper.

  “No, no see. That velly good, too, yes?”

  “Yes, it is. Have you seen Cappy?”

  “I get him for you, Missa Jack.” Wu Chang ran down the stairs hollering for Cappy, as Jack went back inside the bedroom to learn what he could about Hank’s condition.

  “How does it look, Doc? Is he goin’ to be all right?”

  “This old bird is too tough to succumb to a trifling fall down a cliff, all night in near freezing temperatures, and no food or water for a day and a half. He’ll be healing up for quite a spell, but he’ll make it. It’s going to take a bite out of Cappy’s and Wu Chang’s days just fetching after his needs, though, if I know Hank Brennan.” The doctor had fashioned splints for both of Hank’s legs and his right arm, and was wrapping his ribs with cloth bandages.

  Cappy eased into his father’s room, stopped, and looked aghast at his father. “Damn! You look like one of them Egyptian mummies, Pa.”

  Hank attempted a weak smile. Jack pulled Cappy aside while the doctor finished up.

  “What do you plan on sayin’ if that Cruz fella you told me about comes back and sees the doc here? You gonna tell him your father is alive? He might be tempted to try to kill him again.”

  “I don’t know. I, uh, ain’t had time to think on it. You got any suggestions?”

  “Does Cruz have any reason to be comin’ into this house?”

  “No, but he don’t live by other folks’ rules, either. So I can’t say he wouldn’t just bust in anytime he took a mind to.”

  Jack rubbed his chin for a moment. Deep in thought, he failed to hear horses approaching, as Cappy went to the window and drew back the curtains.

  “It’s too late. Cruz and Blade Coffman are comin’ into the yard right now. What should I say?”

  “We’ll both step out on the porch. You’re going to introduce me as a new hand you hired because you were shorthanded. Then you’ll say that the doc is here because Wu Chang took ill from some bad food he ate. Say he’ll be fine in a day or two, but the men will have to look after themselves till he’s up and around. Then you can ask if he’s seen Hank, since he’s been gone for a couple days and nobody’s seen hide nor hair of him. Got that?”

  “I-I think so. Would you really consider hiring on for a spell, at least till we get my father back on his feet so he can deal with Cruz?”

  “I’ll hang around for a while, if you’d like. I hate to admit it, but I need a job. Like I said before, I was on my way out to your place because the bartender said you maybe could use an extra hand.”

  “Well, then consider yourself hired.” Cappy stuck out his hand, relief showing on his face. “I ain’t good for too much around here, but I can sure as hell do this.”

  “Thanks. Oh, and don’t forget to tell Wu Chang he’ll have to lay low for a day or two.”

  When Virgil and Blade dismounted in front of the porch, Jack and Cappy stepped out the front door to meet them.

  “Hey, Cappy, what’s the doc’s buggy doin’ out here. Everybody’s all right, ain’t they?”

  “Wu Chang came down with, uh–”

  “A touch of rotten food,” said Jack. “I came on him down the road apiece. He was trying to make it to town on foot. Poor soul was bent over in pain, groaning and holding his stomach. I rode to town and fetched the doc.”

  “And just who the hell might you be, mister?”
>
  Jack stepped off the porch and extended a hand to Virgil. “I’m Memphis Jack Stump. New to these parts. I was passin’ through when I saw your man Chang. I reckon it was lucky I came along. Doc said he coulda died.”

  Virgil and Blade looked at each other, then back to Jack.

  “Well, I’d suggest you keep on movin’, Mr. Stump,” said Blade. Virgil nodded.

  Cappy broke in. “Well, you see, since the Tulips is gone, and Hank rode off two days ago and ain’t come back, I hired Mr. Stump to help out for a spell. Us needin’ the help and all.”

  “I do the hirin’ and the firin’ around here, sonny. And no snot-nosed kid’s gonna do it for me, understand?”

  Jack could see Cappy was all out of options and completely unable to stand up to his foreman. He figured he had little choice but to do a little pushing back himself. Jack let his hand fall to his Remington. He stepped off to the side and motioned for Virgil to walk with him. Virgil frowned at Blade, then walked to where Jack had stopped behind the doctor’s buggy.

  “Fact is, Mr. Cruz, I’m wanted for a little trouble with a bank in Arizona. I could use the work until I can get back on my feet. I had a few unfortunate hands at the poker table and lost what pitiful amount I came away with from that pissant town’s vault. So if you could see your way to lettin’ me stay on for a couple weeks or so, I’d be damned grateful.”

  Cruz thought that over for a minute. “How do I know you’re on the run?”

  Jack reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded-up piece of well-worn parchment. He handed it to Cruz. It said, “Wanted. Memphis Jack Stump for robbery. $300 reward. Contact Sheriff Benson, Cochise County, Arizona Territory.”

  Cruz studied the dodger for a moment, his eyes narrowed in thought. He handed it back to Jack. He started to turn, but spun around, drawing his revolver as he did. What he found staring him in the belly was unnerving to the gunman. In a flash, Memphis Jack had his Remington already out, cocked, and aimed directly at Cruz’s vitals. Cruz grinned nervously.

  “You’re a fast hand with that thing, mister.”

  “You’re pretty fast yourself.”

  “Yeah, well a man’s got to keep his skills honed. Times are tough in this rattler-snake infested hole. Can’t take any chances,” said Cruz.

  “I agree,” said Jack, still holding his Remington on Cruz, who let his Colt drop back into its holster.

  “I don’t reckon you’ll be needin’ that thing.”

  “Well, it’s available if the need should arise,” said Jack, letting the Remington roll on his trigger finger then slipping it smoothly into the holster with one quick motion.

  “Uh, after givin’ it more consideration, maybe we could use a man of your talents, Mr. Stump. In fact I got something lined up that might suit you just fine,” Cruz said.

  “Thanks. I appreciate the opportunity. You won’t regret it.”

  Cruz and Blade mounted up and started for the bunkhouse. Cruz turned in the saddle and said, “Bring your bedroll and follow us. I’ll show you where you can bed down.”

  Jack nodded and smiled. He’d tossed out the bait, and now it appeared he’d set the hook.

  Chapter 32

  Emily rolled onto her side so she could better watch Dogman and any attempt he might make to do to her what his deranged brother had been intent on doing several times. But he continued to quietly sit at the table dealing cards for three hands, playing each hand as if he were different people. Watching his interest in the game gave Emily an idea. It was a long shot, yes, but one worth trying, considering the options that had presented themselves thus far.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Dogman, but I can’t help noticin’ you playing cards with yourself. Wouldn’t it work better if you had someone to take another hand?”

  “I reckon it might be. But you don’t see no one around just beggin’ to sit in, do you?”

  “There might be someone a lot closer than you think. If you were to loosen these ropes, I could take a hand. I love to play poker.”

  “If I was to let you loose and Virgil found out, I’d be a dead man. Sorry, lady, nothin’ doin’.”

  “How far could I get? You’re so much bigger and faster than I am. If I tried to make a break for it, you’d catch little old me without even getting out of breath. And where would I go? I don’t even know where I am. C’mon, I need to go to the outhouse anyway.”

  Dogman stopped dealing and began stroking his chin, deep in thought. His eyes darted about the dark corners of the cabin as if the answer might be hidden there. He frowned as he looked over at Emily.

  “I don’t know about cuttin’ you loose, missy. Virgil Cruz shows up at times when you’d think he was miles away. The man’s like a spook, passin’ through walls and all.”

  “He said you could untie my ankles, didn’t he? So, he must have figured I could never escape your watchful eye. Anyway, you can always listen for him to come ridin’ up the trail. I’ve noticed there’s a loose board on the steps, too, that’s a dead giveaway. All you have to do is listen carefully. I’ll even help by jumping back onto the cot if we hear anyone coming. What do you say?”

  “Well, I—”

  “I’ve got enough money at my ranch to pay any pot I lose. I’ll even give you a marker for it. You can’t make any money playin’ by yourself, and you might win big. You can always use extra cash, can’t you?” Emily put on her most innocent face.

  “Aww, well, all right, but you gotta promise not to make a break for it. Virgil wouldn’t like it none if I was to have to shoot you.” He untied Emily’s ankles first and then her wrists. Her relief came out in a great sigh.

  “Thanks, that feels real good. Now, if you’d allow a lady the use of the outhouse, we can get to that game,” she said, finding she had to grab the doorpost to steady herself. Her balance was unsure, her legs weak from being unable to move about for so long. She knew she would have to play by Dogman’s rules until she regained sufficient strength to even attempt to make a break for it.

  Besides, how bad could a few hands of cards be anyway?

  “Now, Keeno, tell me what’s got you so upended? Cruz hasn’t pulled anything yet, has he?” Cotton asked as he watched his nervous deputy wringing his hands.

  “No, not yet. But he’s a-fixin’ to any day now. I can feel it in my bones. That scoundrel is mighty tight with that Blade Coffman feller, and Ben Patch, too. Neither of them is good for a thing except makin’ trouble. Mark my words, there’ll be hell to pay, and soon.”

  “What about this gunslinger you mentioned? What do you know about him?”

  “Name’s Red Carter. I ain’t laid eyes on him face-to-face, but I know the law’s a-lookin’ for him. Billy tells me he’s been palaverin’ some with Cruz. Billy’s the one who told me who he was.” Keeno leaned over the desk and shuffled through some of the pile of papers that had collected since Cotton left town. “I looked around and found this dodger on him, Sheriff, that says he’s wanted.” Keeno pulled the paper from a stack on the desk. It had no picture, just a description.

  “Hmm. You say this fella has been huddlin’ with Cruz? Any notion of what might have transpired between them?”

  “No, but the gunsmith said Carter thought one of Cruz’s men was following him and he slipped out the back door to shake the man from his trail. Sounded like Blade Coffman from the description.”

  “Why would Cruz have him followed if they’re in cahoots? That doesn’t make much sense. I better look up this Carter fellow. Any idea where he might be?”

  “Most likely at this time of day he’ll be at the saloon. Want I should tag along, Sheriff? Just in case he gets itchy with his trigger finger?”

  “You mind the store, Keeno. I won’t be long, and I don’t anticipate any trouble.”

  With that, Cotton strolled outside toward the saloon, the place Keeno figured he was most likely to find Red Carter. When he pushed through the swinging doors, One-Eyed Billy Black, the bartender, met his gaze. Cotton could tell by Billy’s expression
that someone in the establishment was making Billy nervous. He walked to the polished oak bar, leaned on his elbows, and motioned Billy over.

  “Hello, Billy, you look like a snake is about to strike. What’s got you all lathered up?”

  “It’s that fella over in the corner, sitting all alone. I’m bettin’ money that’s Red Carter, and if it is, his bein’ in here is enough to raise the hair on anyone’s neck. If it ain’t him, there’s somethin’ mighty peculiar about that owlhoot. I’d be careful if I was you, Sheriff.”

  Cotton ordered a beer, then carried it over to the table where Carter was sitting.

  “Mind if I join you, mister?”

  Carter looked Cotton over, then his eyes fell to the badge. He nodded for the sheriff to take a seat.

  “Obliged,” said Cotton. “You must be new to Apache Springs. I don’t think we’ve ever met. I’m Sheriff Cotton Burke. Welcome to our peaceful little town.”

  “Why thank you, Sheriff. I’ve come to like the peace and quiet myself. Been thinkin’ maybe I’ll settle here. A man has to put down roots sometime, and it could be my time has come.”

  “You never know. Where are you from, Mister–uh . . . ?”

  “Carson. Folks call me Burt. I’m from over near Abilene.”

  “What line of work were you in, Mr. Carson?”

  “Oh, you know, a little of this and a little of that. Nothin’ special.”

  “Why’d you leave Abilene?”

  “Things was kinda dead there, so I decided to come a little farther west, maybe hire on with an outfit hereabouts. Know anyone lookin’ for a good hand?”

  “I imagine it all depends on what you’re a good hand at. That Colt of yours looks pretty well used. That your line of work?”

  “Naww. I just like to keep my hand in, that’s all. Practice is good for the soul. But I expect you already know that, Sheriff. In case you’re wonderin’, I ain’t aimin’ to stir up any trouble. I’m a peaceable man with nothin’ but good intentions. I hope that settles your mind some.”