by Phil Dunlap
Jack swallowed hard. Virgil was proving to be a more able adversary than he had first thought. He’d have to make sure that if the time came to go up against him, he’d make no mistakes and take no chances.
“All right, now, listen up, gents. This is what’s goin’ to make this little job a cinch.” With those words, he pried open the top of the crate with his knife, reached in, and brought out several sticks of dynamite, fuses, and primers. He held them up for all to see. A collective gasp rose from the hands as they realized just how close they had all come to being blown to smithereens by Blade’s oafish mistake.
“Son of a bitch. Do you know how close you came to sendin’ us all to our maker, Blade?” said Ben, red-faced and also clearly fed up with Blade’s tantrums.
Blade’s eyes were wide open as his face turned white from fear, then pink from embarrassment. He hung his head as every eye in the room glared at him. Finally, he shot up from his bunk and stormed out of the bunkhouse. Jack considered following him. This would be a perfect time to turn Blade into giving up information about Emily. But he knew Virgil was too smart to allow his departure. So instead he decided this was as good a time as any to find out what his role in the robbery would be.
“Excuse me, Mr. Cruz, but I didn’t get one of them pieces of paper. I’m wonderin’ what you want me to do,” said Jack.
“Why that’s easy, Mr. Stump, you’re goin’ to kill someone for me.”
Chapter 41
Henry Coyote had obeyed Sheriff Burke’s admonition to remain at the Wagner ranch and not leave in search of Emily Wagner. For six days now he’d done what he’d been asked to do: nothing. Cotton had insisted it was all in the name of assuring Emily’s safety. Her well-being and ultimate release from the clutches of kidnappers was predicated on no one nosing around trying to find her. “She’s gonna be safe and sound as long as . . . you stay away from the Brennan place until after the 16th,” said the note tacked to the sheriff’s door. It was the sheriff’s reliance on the word of a kidnapper that worried the former Apache scout the most. Both Henry and the sheriff figured Virgil Cruz and his cutthroats were the ones behind this despicable act. It was as Henry sat pondering the situation that his patience finally stretched to the breaking point.
It is time to go, Henry thought as he rolled up a blanket, packed a leather satchel with a few provisions, picked up his rifle, and set out on his quest.
He left the Wagner ranch in the middle of the night. It had gnawed away at him that no one had been around when the Cruz gang rode in and grabbed Emily. He felt personally responsible because he had insisted on checking some fence in the farthest corner of the property, so far away that he couldn’t have even heard gunfire. Why weren’t any of the other hands there when it happened? If there was a traitor among the hands, someone who sold out by getting all the cowboys away from the ranch so the kidnappers could ride in with no attempt to stop them, he wanted to know who it was. Whoever was involved in the kidnapping scheme, he knew he’d have to watch his back trail carefully.
Henry’s keen understanding of tracking told him to stay off all known trails. Besides, he knew Cruz would be too smart to hide his prisoner where a posse might be expected to look. Posses tended to take the easiest paths when chasing outlaws. Virgil Cruz was far too clever to make it easy to find Emily. And hadn’t he warned against any attempt to free her before the sixteenth? Cruz would have hidden her away where his men could keep a sharp lookout for anyone riding in to free her. That meant a hideout that was reasonably inaccessible, easy to defend, and almost impossible to approach without being seen. But Cruz wasn’t counting on an Indian to attempt a rescue. That would play in Henry’s favor, and he fully intended to use all his native skills to achieve just that.
If Cruz was keeping Emily anywhere within the Double-B ranch boundaries, he would have chosen the area north of Saucer Valley, an almost inaccessible place, unusable for any of the activities normally associated with ranching. Craggy mountains, narrow passes, and sheer cliffs made it no place for cattle or horses. In fact, Henry saw no reason for any man to seek out its dark, foreboding dangers, unless, of course, he had ill intentions, such as holding a defenseless woman captive.
When Henry reached the Wagner ranch boundary, he slung his bedroll over his shoulder and set off for the mountains far to the west. Those mountains, now shrouded in darkness, formed the northern border of the Double-B and were the best place to begin his quest. A full moon was his only companion. He smiled as he started off on what he considered the most important thing he’d ever undertaken in his life: saving a kind and generous woman from the evil that had stolen her freedom, an evil that clung to Virgil Cruz like smoke from a campfire. As the eastern sky began to lighten before dawn, Henry broke into a trot, his spirits rising in anticipation of a successful venture.
The stagecoach pulled into Apache Springs, leaving a dusty trail behind. As the coach came to a halt, the driver jumped down and opened the door.
“Watch your step, ma’am. It’d be mighty easy to turn that pretty ankle,” he said with a leer.
Melody ignored the driver’s obvious attempt to ingratiate himself as she stuck her head out. She had been the only passenger, and she was tired, dusty, and bored from having no one with whom to share even a convivial conversation. She was in no mood to be seduced by the disingenuous advances of a stagecoach driver. She was also angry from having to make the trip in the first place. Cotton Burke had no right to take her lover from her, and she was damned well going to let the world know what a snake the Apache Springs sheriff was. As she glanced around at the wooden and adobe buildings that constituted the center of town, she spied a hotel that appeared to be a likely place to put her things, get a bath, and eat before setting out on her mission to make Sheriff Cotton Burke’s life a living hell. Ignoring the offer of help from the driver, she marched off like a soldier with a bag under each arm, straight for the Garfield Hotel and its peeling green paint.
“I’d like a room, please,” she said to the balding man at the counter. The slight smile on his face was one she’d seen a thousand times, always from a man who expected favors for any kindness.
“Why, yes, ma’am. Happy to oblige. Will you be staying long, I hope?”
She sighed and signed the register. “Only long enough to corral a snake.”
“Oh? And to whom might you be referring? Anyone I might know?”
“Never mind. I’ll be cutting off his rattle soon enough. Then you’ll know.” With that, she hoisted up her two bags and began climbing the stairs to her room. At the landing, she turned and asked, “Where can I get some hot water for a bath?”
“Oh, why I’ll just fetch you some and bring it up to the last room on your left. There’s one of them big copper tubs sent all the way from St. Louis last spring. It’ll take about a half hour. I’ll knock on your door on my way up with the water. Will you be needin’ soap, too?”
Melody couldn’t believe that anyone would desire a bath without soap, but since that seemed a possibility in this godforsaken town, she nodded, “Yes. Thank you.”
Two hours later, clean and dressed in a blue silk dress with puffy sleeves, lots of lace around the low-cut neck and three petticoats, Melody set out across the street to confront Cotton Burke. She stormed into the jail with her derringer tucked nicely into the pocket of her dress. When she pushed open the door, she came face-to-face with Deputy Keeno Belcher. Keeno was pleasantly surprised at having the usually drab sheriff’s office suddenly brightened by a beautiful woman. He grabbed his rumpled hat from his head and tried to smile.
“Uh, howdy, ma’am. Can I be of service? I’m Deputy Belcher.”
“Why, you surely can, Deputy,” she said, dripping with sweetness. “I’m looking for my fiancé, a man named Memphis Jack Stump. I believe he’s here.”
Keeno scratched his head, then mumbled, “I-I’m right sorry, ma’am, but I ain’t never heard of no Memphis Jack Stump. That’s a name I’d surely remember. Nope, not in Apache Sp
rings. I could ask around for you, if you’d like.”
“I know your sheriff rode this way several days ago. They rode together.” Her tone was losing its syrupiness.
“Cotton rode in about three days ago all right, but he come alone. I seen him with my own eyes.”
“Damn! Well just where is your sheriff?”
“I ’spect I could round him up. How about you sit for a spell, and I’ll go fetch him. If that’s all right with you.” Keeno had replaced his hat and was starting out the door when he stopped and scratched his chin. “Anything I should tell the sheriff when I find him?”
“Tell that miserable coyote I aim to shoot his pecker off if he don’t come right away. I’m in no mood to cool my heels for a no-good scoundrel like Cotton Burke. Tell him if he don’t come, he’ll find me down at the nearest saloon just singin’ my sad tale like a wounded canary.” The syrup had been completely replaced with vinegar.
“Sad tale?”
“Yes. About how that miserable coyote yanked Memphis Jack right outta my bedroom and outta my life. And I aim to get him back. I’ll tell the world if I have to.”
Chapter 42
Cotton was tossing down the last drops of a shot of whiskey when Keeno burst through the saloon doors. The deputy looked like he had a wildcat on his tail and couldn’t shake him. He rushed up, sputtering.
“Sheriff, there’s a gal over to the jailhouse and she’s lookin’ for you. She’s a real looker, I’ll tell you, and she ain’t the least bit happy. Say’s she’s lookin’ for some feller named Memphis Jack Stump. Said you come and took him from her bedroom. I told her it didn’t sound right to me, but she insisted it was true. Said you two had been friends at one time.”
Cotton’s eyes grew wide at the prospect of Melody being in town and in a position to blow Jack’s undercover assignment all to hell.
“Don’t ever mention that name again,” Cotton said, shushing the mouthy deputy. “Now, turn right around and walk back to the jail with me, and not another word of this to anyone. Understand?” Keeno nodded and fell in behind the sheriff.
“Uh-huh. Yessir. My mouth is shut tight.” He followed Cotton out of the saloon.
Back in a dark corner of the room, a man had been sitting with a half-empty glass in front of him. When he’d overheard the name “Stump,” he’d strained to pick up more of the conversation while gulping down the last of his drink. He now walked over to the door to watch as the sheriff and his deputy disappeared into the jail office. Blade Coffman’s eyes narrowed at the prospect that he’d overheard information that Virgil would certainly want to know. It appeared that Memphis Jack and the sheriff knew each other. That could explain why Jack showed up at the Brennans’ place when he did. Blade mulled over whether to tell Virgil about what he’d seen in order to get back into his good graces, or sit back and wait, see what developed. He was still stinging from Virgil’s rebuke and his condemnation over the dropped box of dynamite. And at the moment, at least, he wasn’t all that certain he cared whether or not Virgil got warned that he might have a spy on the payroll. While Blade considered his options, he called for another whiskey.
When Cotton pushed open the door to his office, a violent, angry woman abruptly set upon him. Melody spewed venom like a cornered rattler, her eyes ablaze. She stormed up to him and began pounding on his chest.
“What in the hell have you done with Jack, you bastard? Tell me, or I’ll blow a hole in that hard head of yours!”
Cotton grabbed her by the wrists and sat her down on a straight-backed, wooden chair. Hard. There was fire in his eyes, too. Her showing up in Apache Springs couldn’t have come at a worse time.
“Sit there and shut up, Melody. If you screw things up, I’ll lock you away for interfering with the law. I could get you sent to prison for what you’ve already done. Now, what the hell are you doing here?”
“I told you. I came to get Jack back. You stole him, and I aim to take him home with me. If I don’t see that he’s fit as a fiddle in the next few minutes, every decent, law-abiding citizen in this mud-hole will know of your treachery, ’cause I’ll holler it at the top of my lungs.”
“You’ll do nothing of the sort, you loudmouthed bitch. I’ll not have you interfering with things. Now, you can get right back on that stage, or you can spend the night in jail. It’s up to you. What’ll it be?”
“You don’t have the balls to stick a lady in your filthy jail.”
“You, a lady? Ha! I’ll do it all right, if that’s your decision. And let it be known right now, I certainly ain’t never considered you a lady. I hope you got nothin’ against rats, though. I hear they like to gnaw on silk.” Cotton looked over at Keeno, who appeared surprised at hearing about rats in the jail.
Melody sat stunned at what he’d called her. After all, the two of them had been lovers at one time, although it seemed like a hundred years ago. She couldn’t believe he’d forgotten that. How could he call her a bitch? Her knuckles were white from clenching her fists tightly in her lap. Her face was flushed with the anger boiling up inside her. Cotton knew her well enough to see she was about to explode.
“Melody, you’ve put me in a dangerous position, which I’m willing to forget if you get right back on that stagecoach and hightail it out of here. And no talking to anyone. Not one word. Otherwise, I have no choice but to lock you up until this is all over.”
“Until what is over? I need an explanation before agreeing to anything from you. I also need a drink.” Melody said.
“I can’t explain it right now. But your big mouth could get Jack killed if the wrong person overheard you. You go ahead and call my bluff if you’ve a mind, but—”
“Pardon me for buttin’ in, ma’am, but I know he don’t bluff. And that’s a fact.” Keeno grinned from ear to ear, obviously proud of himself for putting in a good word for the sheriff.
Melody stared Cotton straight in the eye. Her whole body shook with hatred for him at that moment.
“You wouldn’t dare put me in one of those filthy jail cells, Cotton. Not after what we’ve been through together.”
“What’s your decision goin’ to be? I need an answer right now before the stage pulls out for Gonzales.”
Cotton looked out the grimy, dust-covered window. He squinted as he watched the stage driver put the last of the luggage on the boot and tie it down. “They’re about to leave. I need an answer, Melody.”
Suddenly she stood up defiantly. She clutched her handbag tightly and pursed her lips. She glared at Cotton as she spit out her next words. “You do whatever you must, but I’m not leaving here without Jack. And that’s final.” She stomped her foot for added emphasis. She had thrown the challenge back in the sheriff’s face. It was now up to him as to whether he had the guts to put a woman behind bars for chasing after her missing lover and speaking her mind.
She remained glued to her spot as Cotton mulled over the position she had put him in. Her arms were crossed defiantly. Considering her well-known unpredictable and stubborn nature, he could see her doing just what she’d threatened to do: blabbing to everyone within earshot that Memphis Jack Stump, an old friend, was being held against his will somewhere in this town. She’d tell anyone who would listen that she would swear to what she claimed.
Cotton took one quick step toward her, snatched her handbag from her hand, tossed it on the desk with a thud, then removed the jail keys from the desk drawer.
“Put her in the first cell, Keeno. She ain’t leavin’ until I say so.” He turned and stepped outside, closing the door behind him, as he watched the stagecoach make its way down the rutted street and out of town.
The sudden panic on Melody’s face said she’d met her match, and her expression said she didn’t like it one damned bit.
Chapter 43
Virgil was in a foul mood. He had no idea where Blade had made off to, and he didn’t like it when his men left the ranch without his knowledge. Blade had been with him for some time, but lately Virgil had gotten a sense that
the man was capable of stupidity beyond that which he’d ever known. A scheme as big as a train robbery required careful planning and a crew that followed orders without question. Blade seemed to have been questioning Virgil’s every move from the start. Maybe it was time to get rid of him and not take a chance on his blundering during the robbery. Too much was at stake. That’s when Virgil decided it was time to put Jack’s skills to the test, in the one way that could assure the loyalty of all the others, while at the same time getting rid of a thorn in his side.
Virgil went to the bunkhouse to look for Jack. When he got there, one of the hands said Jack had gone to the cook shack for some coffee because someone had stomped the living daylights out of the coffeepot they had.
“Now, who’d go and do a fool thing like that?”
“I, uh, believe it was Blade, Mr. Cruz,” said the hand.
“That figures.” Cruz stormed out to find Jack in conversation with Wu Chang outside the cook shack.
Wu Chang saw him coming and whispered a warning to Jack just as Virgil came up to them.
“Get back inside and start rustlin’ up some grub, Chinaman. I got hungry men out there.” Virgil made a shooing motion with his hand to dismiss the cook. Wu Chang grumbled something in Mandarin but went inside as instructed.
“Now, Memphis Jack, or whatever the hell they call you, I’m ready for you to do that little piece of work I mentioned. The time has come for you to prove your worth.”
“I’m ready, Mr. Cruz. What is it you want me to do?”
“Go into town and find Blade.”
“All right. Do you want him back here?”