“Sure was,” Slim answered. “It warn’t nowhere close to turnin’. I just butchered it the day before.”
“It wasn’t nothin’,” Preacher insisted, anxious to change the subject before Darlene started talking about his lack of ardor during the night just passed. He had paid her double her asking price, hoping she’d appreciate it enough to keep her mouth shut. “I’m gonna go on up to Kansas for a spell till things here quiet down. When I come back, I aim to pay you a nice long visit.” He looked quickly toward the door when it opened again and Eddie, Elmira’s son, walked in.
“I brought your horse up,” Eddie said, “and tied him up at the rail.”
“Much obliged,” Preacher said.
“You’d best keep an eye on that cinch strap on that old saddle,” Eddie reported. “It’s lookin’ frayed in a couple of places.”
“Yeah, I noticed that myself,” Preacher replied. “But I reckon it’ll hold till I can get someplace to get a new one. I think ol’ Slim skinned me on that deal, but it’ll sure beat ridin’ bareback.” He aimed a grin at Slim to set him at ease. He didn’t plan to put up with the old single-rigged saddle very long. Being a wealthy man, he planned to buy a fine saddle, befitting one of his stature, as soon as he got the chance. But for the time being, he was ready to climb into that creaky old saddle and put some distance behind him, anxious to cross into Kansas and leave the Fort Smith deputy at the border. He still wasn’t really certain that he was being followed. He didn’t believe that deputy who arrested Lon and Elmo would try to follow him when he had two prisoners to contend with, but he had decided he was going to play it like he was being followed. No sense in taking chances. He reached down and picked up his coffee cup from the table, drained the last swallow, and set it back on the table. “Well, folks, I’ll see you again when I’m back this way.”
“Don’t make it too long,” Elmira said as he headed for the door. “It’s always a pleasure to have you visit.” She walked to the door to watch him step up on the big black horse and gave him a little wave when he touched a finger to his hat brim in farewell. That son of a bitch is toting a lot of money he ain’t talking about, she thought. When she went back inside, she repeated the thought aloud to Darlene. “Didn’t he do any talkin’ about money last night?”
“He didn’t do much talkin’ about anything,” Darlene replied. “Matter of fact, he didn’t act like he was even enjoyin’ bein’ with me.”
“I was thinkin’ the same thing as you,” Slim said. “I saw the size of that roll he peeled them bills off of. He had money to spare, or he wouldn’ta give me forty dollars for that old saddle.”
“And right when we could use some business around here,” Elmira complained. At the present time, there were no customers seeking refuge at Sartain’s, so there were only the four of them in residence now—herself, her son, Darlene, and Slim. Slim had originally found her place with two partners, Pop Strawbridge and Coy Trainer. Off and on, the three became permanent guests, paying their way by furnishing stolen cattle for the cook stove. That is, until they decided to throw in with Ben Trout and Brock Larsen to bushwhack a fellow named Walker. None of the five ever came back from that night until about seven months later when Slim showed up by himself. He told a tale about how they had been ambushed and that he was the only one to get away. He had just rambled around, mentally lost, with no other place to go. Elvira let him stay, after giving him a good lecture on respecting the rights of her guests and reminding him that Sartain’s was a haven for anybody on the run from the law. He seemed genuinely remorseful, so she used him to help out around the place and occasionally go with young Eddie to hunt whenever there was news of a cattle drive close by.
“Ol’ Preacher sure seemed a mite jumpy, didn’t he?” Slim commented.
“Yeah, he did,” Elmira replied. “And he was in an awful hurry to get away from here. I’d like to have seen what he was carryin’ in those saddlebags.” In days past, she might have entertained thoughts of finding out, in spite of the dressing down she had given Slim about her customers’ rights. But she figured it not worth the risk with someone like Preacher McCoy, who had a killer’s reputation and was generally not a man to cross. Besides that, it would be bad for business if someone like Preacher happened to get his throat cut at her place. “He’s done led a pack of lawmen right to us,” she decided aloud, thinking again of his eagerness to depart.
“Well, if he did,” Darlene said, “there ain’t nobody on the run here to worry about. So let ’em come. It might be interestin’ to entertain a bunch of lawmen,” she added with a girlish giggle.
“That’ud be somethin’, all right,” Slim commented.
CHAPTER 7
The last time Will had stood on the top of this hill was a little over a year before when Oscar Moon had taken him to Muskrat Creek. Even in the fading light, he could still plainly see the three houses that made up the outlaw haven known as Sartain’s. It was named for Elmer Sartain, who was a notorious stagecoach robber some years back. He built the original cabin by the creek and it soon became a hideout for other outlaws. Elmer was dead now, but the complex was run by an old flame of his, Elmira Tate. Looking at it now, it appeared that nothing much had changed that he could spot from this distance. As before, he couldn’t get an idea of how many guests Elmira was entertaining because the horses were kept on the far side of the many oak trees where the cabins had been built. There was no barn. In foul weather, they huddled the horses under an overhanging ledge of the hill behind the third cabin. When he had been there before, he had come under the guise of just another outlaw on the run. They now knew he was a U.S. deputy marshal, so he was not likely to receive a welcome back. So simply riding in was not an option. He could very well be shot on sight. With that thought in mind, he stepped up into the saddle and guided Buster down the backside of the hill, planning to ride a wide circle and come up upon the compound from the north, along Muskrat Creek. He hoped by doing that, he could get a look at the horses to get an idea of how many visitors Elvira had, especially if one of them happened to be a big blue roan, as black as night.
He took his time making his circle, since he wanted to wait until it was a little darker, anyway. When he struck the creek north of the three cabins, he entered the oaks scattered along the bank just as the light began fading away. He slow-walked his horses, following the bank until he could clearly see the horses grazing behind the third house. He had no way of knowing for sure how many were owned by temporary residents, but he knew Elmira only kept one horse. When last there, he encountered three small-time cattle thieves who had been staying in one of the houses for quite some time. He counted only four horses, and no blue roan, so he couldn’t be sure if Preacher McCoy had stopped here or not. The more he thought about it, the more he realized there was no way he could determine beforehand how many outlaws he might walk in on—and consequently, what his chances were of walking out alive. But with only four horses, there couldn’t be more than one or two. And he needed to know if Preacher had come this way, and if he was gone, as it appeared, how long ago did he leave? He decided he’d try to account for everybody before he walked in, so he took another look at the houses.
The main house, Elvira’s, was well lit up, which he expected. It was the other two that held his interest because they might tell him how many visitors were on hand. There was smoke coming from the chimney of the third house, where Darlene Futch lived, but there was no lantern light in the windows. It would appear that she was not entertaining a customer at present. Chances were Darlene was up at the main house, so there was no one in hers. There was little risk in checking for sure, so he left his horses on the creek bank and moved cautiously up to the front window. A quick look told him no one was in the house.
The windows in the house between Darlene’s and Elmira’s showed no light, either, so he was prone to conclude that everybody currently in residence at Sartain’s was gathered in Elmira’s house. Repeating the check he performed at Darlene’s, he confirm
ed it. He decided the odds were in his favor now, so there could be no better time to pay them a call. Retrieving his horses, he led them to the front porch of Elmira’s house and tied them at a corner post. A quick look through the front window told him there was no one to worry about but one. He remembered him from his last night at Sartain’s and an ambush planned to take his life. Slim was what his partners had called him, and he was the only one who got away after the shoot-out on that night. Will had wondered what happened to him, but had not been interested enough to look for him. Now here he was, Slim and the two women. With his rifle in hand, he started for the door just as he heard someone behind him. “Mr. Walker?”
Will turned immediately, his rifle ready to fire, causing the young boy to take a quick step backward. He had forgotten about Elmira’s young son. “Eddie,” Will said. “Didn’t see you back there in the dark.” He remembered then that Walker was the name he had given them when he was last here. “I was just fixin’ to go inside.” He stepped aside and motioned. “After you.”
The three people at the table turned when the door opened and Eddie walked in. All three quickly sat upright when he was followed by Will. “Mr. Walker,” Eddie announced simply, not sure what else to say. The three at the table froze.
“Evenin’, folks,” Will greeted them. “Sorry to disturb your supper. I was just on my way up toward Kansas, but I know you wouldn’t want me passin’ through without stoppin’ to say howdy.” Holding his rifle in a ready position, but not threatening, he nodded to Slim. “Didn’t expect to see you here, Slim. Figured this would be one of the last places you’d wanna show up again.”
“Now, wait a minute, Walker, you got it all wrong. I never threw one single shot at you. That was all the doin’s of Larsen and Trout. They tried to kill us all. I just happened to be lucky enough to get away, else I’da been dead, too. I’m just glad to see you made it all right, too.”
It occurred to Will then that they were still not aware that he was a deputy marshal. He had assumed that they knew. The reason they had all looked so stunned when he walked in was because they thought he was dead. There was no point in telling them now, he decided. He might want to call on them again. “No hard feelin’s, Slim, I figured it was the work of Larsen and Trout and you and your two partners were slickered into ridin’ with ’em. You and me, though, we came out of it on our feet, right?” He was well aware that Slim and the other two thought they were going to bushwhack him, trusting a partnership with the two killers.
“That’s the God’s honest truth,” Slim exclaimed. “I’m just sorry that Coy and Pop didn’t get the chance to run with me.”
“Right now, I just need a little information,” Will said. “I’m tryin’ to catch up with Preacher McCoy. He’s got some things that ain’t his. I know he was here and I thought I’d catch up with him, but I see he’s already gone. When did he leave?”
“He left this mornin’,” Elvira said, “right after breakfast.”
“Did he say where he was headin’?” He knew now that Preacher was only one day ahead of him instead of two.
“No, he didn’t, just said he was goin’ to Kansas territory for a while.” She studied his face for a moment before continuing. “I reckon you’re the reason he showed up here ridin’ a horse bareback, then.”
“Maybe,” Will answered.
“He mighta gone by Scully’s tradin’ post,” she volunteered, thinking Will might be inclined to spend a little money here if she was helpful. “That old saddle Slim sold him might fall apart before he gets there.”
“Much obliged,” Will said. Scully’s was on the Salt Fork of the Arkansas River, a distance he estimated to be fifty miles from there.
“I reckon you’re gonna want some supper and a bed for the night.”
“Reckon not. Some other time when I ain’t in such a hurry,” he replied, and turned to leave. With nothing more to gain, he was not inclined to waste another second there. He was gone before they could actually believe it, leaving them standing with mouths agape.
Eddie was the only one to move. He ran to the door in time to see him ride off up the creek in the moonlight. “He’s gone,” Eddie declared when he went back inside.
“If that don’t beat all,” Darlene marveled. “I reckon he don’t need no food or sleep. You reckon he’s really a lawman, I mean, him chasin’ Preacher and all?”
“Nah,” Elmira said. “I can smell a lawman a mile away. He’s a son of a bitch, but not that kinda son of a bitch.”
Beyond the hill where the horses were kept in bad weather, Will turned Buster’s head on a course directly toward the Arkansas River. He had been operating this entire chase on information from outlaws and, so far, it had all proven to be accurate. So he decided to stay with it and head straight to Scully’s. He had a full day’s ride to get there, but he was not going to start out tonight. His horses needed a rest and he felt like he could use some, too. So he followed Muskrat Creek for a couple of miles until he found a spot that suited him, then went about making his camp for the night. It might not be as comfortable as a bed back at Sartain’s, but he figured he had a better chance of waking up in the morning.
* * *
“We got company comin’,” Deke Fanning called from the porch of the trading post on the Blue River. “Looks like a posse. I count six of ’em.”
Jeremy Cannon walked out to see for himself. “Now, what the hell?” His first thought was the same as Deke’s, that a deputy’s posse was searching for Preacher McCoy and his gang. “Don’t tell ’em a damn thing,” he warned Deke. He stood there, waiting while the six riders approached his store. He offered no greeting as they stepped down and tied their horses to the rail. When he finally spoke, it was with a strong hint of sarcasm. “You fellers lost?”
Luther Treadwell frowned as he stared at Cannon for a few moments before responding. “Well, now, we might be. All of us are at one time or another. You own this store?”
“Maybe I do, and maybe I don’t,” Cannon answered, still convinced he was talking to a lawman.
“Like I said,” Luther replied. “Maybe you’re the one who’s lost. You don’t even know if you own this store or not. Do you always welcome strangers like this?”
Jeb Cotton stepped up beside Luther, causing Cannon to take a step back. “I sure as hell know who owns this store,” Cannon declared. “And if you’ve come to buy supplies or somethin’, I’ve got most of what you might need. But I ain’t got no information about anybody you’re lookin’ for. It ain’t my business to help the law do theirs.” He was surprised when his comment brought a round of chuckles from the younger men standing behind the two on his front steps.
“He spotted you right off, Pa,” Liam joked. “You’ve got the look of a marshal.” This caused more laughter from the brothers.
“Yeah, Uncle Luther,” Cecil said, “show him your badge.”
Astonished by their reaction, Cannon exchanged glances with Deke, who shrugged in response. “You ain’t lawmen?” Cannon asked. “Who are you, then?”
“My name’s Luther Treadwell,” he said. “This here’s Jeb Cotton and these mangy-lookin’ fellers behind us are our sons.”
“Well, I’ll be . . .” Cannon started, then paused to look at Luther again. “Treadwell and Cotton, I’ve heard mention of your names. From down Texas way, right?” Luther nodded. “Well, I’ll be . . .” Cannon repeated, then gestured toward the door. “Well, come on in and we’ll find you somethin’ to drink.” He stepped aside and held the door open while they filed in. “My name’s Jeremy Cannon. Where you fellers headin’, up in the Arbuckles?”
“Well, we didn’t start out to,” Jeb replied. “We’ve got a place up on the Cimarron, but we’ve got a little business to tend to up this way we’re lookin’ to take care of first. And I’m hopin’ you can help us a little.”
“If I can,” Cannon said, and continued pouring a drink for each man.
“We’re lookin’ for a man,” Luther said. “Been on his trail
since Durant and we think he mighta passed this way. He’s a deputy marshal outta Fort Smith.”
“Will Tanner!” Cannon immediately blurted, almost joyously.
“That’s right,” Luther said. “Did he pass this way?”
“He sure did. He came through a few days ago, lookin’ for Preacher McCoy and his gang. I didn’t tell him nothin’, but I’m pretty sure he went on up to the Arbuckles. Don’t know if he found Preacher or not, but he ain’t been back and none of Preacher’s boys have been back here since then.” He slapped his hand on the bar. “Ha! Ain’t that somethin’? Turnaround—outlaws trackin’ the deputy, instead of the other way around. Whaddaya after Tanner for?” Jeb told him about the shooting of his son Billy, done cowardly with a bullet in the back while unarmed and in custody at the time. “Well, now, that sure is a sorry piece of business, and I’m sorry for your son’s death. But it don’t surprise me none. That Tanner is a mean one.”
“And you say you ain’t seen Preacher or none of his boys since you last saw Tanner?” Luther asked. Cannon shook his head. “So it’s hard to say if he found ’em or not,” Luther continued. “Maybe he found ’em, but maybe they done him in, instead. I wouldn’t be surprised. Preacher McCoy ain’t anybody you’d wanna fool with. There’s a lotta folks down in Texas lookin’ for him.” He turned to look at Jeb and shook his head. “I reckon the only way we’re gonna find out if Tanner’s still up there is to ride on up and look around.”
“I gotta see him dead,” Jeb replied.
“We’ll have to do some lookin’,” Luther said. “It’s been a while since I was last in those mountains and there’s a hundred places to hide. But we’ll find him if he’s up there,” he added to reassure Jeb.
They took the time to rest their horses and eat some food. Then after buying some supplies from Cannon, they were back in the saddle again, heading for the Arbuckle Mountains, roughly twenty miles away. Recalling conversations he had overheard from other outlaws who had traded with him, Cannon had suggested they should probably enter the southern end of the mountains. He speculated that the cave Preacher McCoy and his gang had holed up in was beside a waterfall about halfway up the mountain. He apologized for the briefness of his directions, having never been there himself. His information was merely bits and pieces he had learned, but they came from quite a few outlaws who had camped there. “I think I might know where that cave is,” Luther said. “I know I remember a waterfall I saw there one time.”
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