Cotton's War
Page 23
As he rode, Jack figured that by now Cotton would be up and around, probably being well tended to by Emily Wagner, a thought that brought a picture to mind that amused him: Cotton Burke tied to a woman’s apron strings. It was all turning out to be a pretty satisfactory outcome. The Wagner boys and the railroad guards probably had the train back on its way. And he was off the hook for whatever it was Cotton figured he owed him. He’d done what he’d agreed to, and he could now get back to doing those things he liked most: gambling, drinking whiskey, and snuggling up to that sweet Melody every night she wasn’t engaged in making money. He smiled at the thought as his horse continued retracing the way back to Apache Springs.
Chapter 60
Cotton was still moving gingerly as with each labored movement Doc Winters’s stitches tugged at his flesh. Loading Cruz’s dead body onto his horse had taken every last bit of strength he had. The ride back had further taken a toll, and he looked forward to just sitting still for a few days. He rode into Apache Springs leading Virgil Cruz’s horse with his corpse draped across the saddle. Emily and the doctor rushed out to greet him.
After Cotton told her about what had happened at the line shack, Emily’s mood seemed to brighten appreciably. She was whistling as the two of them went to gather up his belongings from the one-room house the town had supplied its sheriff. She began stuffing clothing—shirts, pants, socks—into two bags she’d hastily purchased from the general store. Cotton tried sitting, standing, and leaning on the door frame—none of which afforded much relief from the discomfort he would be saddled with for at least a couple of weeks; that’s what the doctor had told him. That is, if he didn’t do something foolish, tear open the stitches, and end up bleeding to death.
“Emily, I still don’t see why I need to—”
“Hush, Sheriff. You need someone to look after you while you’re on the mend. The Wagner ranch has plenty of room, and I can take care of you until you’re all healed.”
“And then?”
“Well, I suppose we’ll have to discuss that, won’t we?”
Cotton broke into a sheepish grin that made Emily laugh out loud. The two of them had grown close after her husband’s death, both as a result of Cotton’s having been the instrument of fatal punishment for Otis Wagner’s killer, and from a mutual attraction that had perhaps been there longer than either had wanted to admit.
Cotton was lost in his memories of their burgeoning relationship when a knock came at the door. The door creaked open as Emily called out for whoever it was to enter. It was Jack and Melody. Cotton’s surprise at seeing Melody was a mixture of embarrassment at having a lady of the evening come into close proximity with the love of his life, combined with a still simmering belligerence at Melody’s impulsive actions that played a part in his being shot by Cruz’s gunman.
“Hey, Cotton, ol’ pal, how’re you doing?” Jack said.
“I’m getting’ along, Jack. I see you sprung our prisoner.”
Melody’s face turned sour and her eyes narrowed at Cotton’s obvious slight.
“Uh, yeah, I found myself in need of friendlier company than a broken-down sheriff. But now that the job I came here for is done, reckon Melody and I will be headed back to Gonzales. Just wanted to say so long. Oh, and don’t you owe me some pay for being a deputy?”
“I spect I do, at that. I seem to recall your agreeing to pin on that badge as a deputy. I don’t know if you bothered to look at the fine print or not, but I’ll enlighten you with the contractual language anyway. You have signed onto an obligation to the town of Apache Springs for a period of six months, to be extended if either party desires . . . and so on. Well, you get the idea. You have exactly five months, two weeks, three and one half days left to serve, pardner. So you might as well get settled into this here room, which is owned by the town for the use of the sheriff or, in your case, his deputy. Since I’ll be recuperating out at the Wagner ranch for a spell, and you’ll be the only law in town, you can move in here. Any questions?”
Jack’s eyes were wide at Cotton’s declaration of an obligation he had no knowledge of ever agreeing to. Melody’s jaw tightened, indicating a storm was brewing. She looked first to Jack, then to Cotton. Finally, her pent-up anger burst forth like a stampede.
“Cotton Burke, you rotten, no good son of a bitch, you can’t get away with this. Jack’s going home with me, and that’s final. Now, move outta our way. We’ve got a stage to catch.”
She stormed out of the room, then looked back to see Jack staring at the floor, her fury suddenly tempered with fear.
“Jack, honey, I’m leaving. Jack—”
“Melody, you know I want to go back with you, but if I signed a contract, even if I don’t remember it, well, I don’t see how I can go back on my word.” He shook his head.
Emily was watching the whole charade with great amusement, which she kept carefully hidden behind a lacy white handkerchief. Her lower lip was quivering as she turned away at Jack’s response to Melody’s demands. Cotton remained straight-faced, although he, too, was trying mightily to contain a smirk.
Melody stormed off, slamming the front door. She started across the street, stopped, as if in deep thought, then timidly turned around and came back and eased open the door. She hung her head, sighed, and slumped into the one and only chair. Her silk dress rustled as she folded her hands in her lap. She looked up meekly at Cotton.
“Do you suppose the town could afford two in the same room?”
Cotton could no longer contain himself. He burst out laughing, followed by Emily and Jack.