Evil Never Sleeps

by William W. Johnstone

  Will started up the steps again. “I swear, Roy, I’m beginnin’ to get the feelin’ I ain’t welcome around here.”

  “You ain’t.”

  Will was already of the opinion that he was wasting time, since Roy didn’t put up more of an effort to stop him from looking around. Evidently, Preacher wasn’t using one of his rooms, but he thought he should check just to be sure, so he continued up the steps. As Roy had said, there was no evidence that any of the four rooms were being rented at that time, they were all empty with no apparent belongings. When he came out of the last room at the end of the hall, Roy stood in the hallway waiting. “Well, Mr. Deputy Marshal, are you satisfied? And if you were tellin’ the truth when you said you might be interested in takin’ one of ’em to let, I’m sorry, but I ain’t got no vacancies.”

  “Tell you the truth,” Will replied, “I druther sleep in the stable with my horse. Maybe I’ll get a chance to visit with you again before I leave town, though.”

  “Maybe the sheriff might be interested to know there’s an Oklahoma lawman hasslin’ the folks here in town,” Roy threatened.

  “Might at that,” Will said. “Only problem is there ain’t no sheriff in Delano and the sheriff in Wichita doesn’t give a damn.” Roy followed him to the front door and stood there to watch him until Will untied Buster’s reins and walked down the street, leading the buckskin and his packhorse behind him.

  One by one, he checked every saloon and whorehouse in town. He checked with the blacksmith and the stables, where Seth Thacker met him with much the same welcome as he had received from Roy Bates. Then he checked the legitimate businesses where he hoped to encounter a few honest merchants. At the end of the day, he had no evidence that anyone had seen Preacher McCoy, or had even heard of him. The blank expressions he witnessed led him to believe that they weren’t lying. With no place else to look, he had to admit that his gut feelings had led him astray. As difficult as it was to do, he was forced to say he was wrong, that he had come all this way on a meaningless hunt, and Preacher had proven both him and Elmo Black wrong. Preacher was evidently smarter than they had credited him, or maybe Elmo had not lost faith in Preacher after all and had sent him off on a wild goose chase. Faced with the fact that he didn’t know where to look for Preacher now, Will had no option but to do as his boss had ordered and get back to Atoka to transport Elmo and Lon to Fort Smith. It was going to be a difficult thing to do. After tracking Preacher all the way across Oklahoma and into Kansas, it was not in Will’s nature to give up and return to Fort Smith. And he felt so close, he thought he had cornered the notorious outlaw. Reluctantly, he resigned himself to the return trip, empty-handed and likely facing a dressing-down by Dan Stone for riding seventy miles out of his jurisdiction.

  * * *

  Asking Buster and the bay for a little extra, he rode hard for almost five days to reach the town of Atoka late one Sunday afternoon. With both horses and man in need of rest, he rode directly to Jim Little Eagle’s cabin on Muddy Boggy Creek, short on rations and out of coffee for the last day’s ride. He was counting on Jim’s wife, Mary Light Walker, to insist upon cooking him supper, and he was not disappointed. “You’re looking wrung out,” Jim said. “You have a rough trip?”

  “You could say that, I reckon,” Will answered. “I’m down to nothin’ as far as supplies and I’m comin’ back with no prisoner. Dan Stone wired me to come transport Elmo Black and Lon Jackson to Fort Smith. I was surprised he didn’t send somebody over to do that since I was tryin’ to follow Preacher McCoy across the whole territory. Those two must be about half-crazy after spending so many days in that little jail of yours.”

  “I think those two crazy when you put them in there, but they don’t complain,” Jim Little Eagle said. “I think they getting fat on Lottie Mabre’s cooking and they in no hurry to get to Fort Smith, anyway.”

  “In that case, I reckon they can spend one more night there,” Will said. “I’ll have to go to see Tom Brant at the general store in the mornin’ and buy enough supplies to get the three of us to Fort Smith. That is, if I’ve got any money left after paying Doug Mabre what I owe Lottie’s for their meals.” He figured to be broke, or damn near it, by the time he got back to Fort Smith. He would be reimbursed for the money he had to pay Mabre, and he was due mileage for transporting the prisoners all the way from the Arbuckle Mountains. That was money he would have lost if Stone had sent another deputy to transport his two prisoners, so at least he would recover that. Maybe if Stone wasn’t too sore at him for chasing Preacher so far, he might allow something for the trip back from Kansas, even though chances were not too good. He wasn’t bringing a prisoner back from there. The thought of that made him want to curse. He had been counting on that before Preacher gave him the slip.

  * * *

  After camping for the night close by Jim’s cabin on the creek, Will enjoyed breakfast with Jim and Mary before he and Jim rode into Atoka. As payment for taking care of the horses and overseeing the prisoners, he left Jim the bay he had been admiring, saddle and all. His bill at Lottie’s Kitchen wasn’t as much as he had figured, so he had money enough to make sure he didn’t starve his prisoners before they reached Fort Smith.

  “Damn, look who’s back,” Elmo said when he saw the two lawmen leading the horses up before the jail. He left his position beside the one tiny window to face the door when Jim opened it and Will walked in behind him. “To tell you the truth, I never figured to see you again, Deputy. You must notta caught up with Preacher. That mighta been the luckiest thing that coulda happened to you.”

  “Maybe so,” Will replied. “He ran off somewhere up in Kansas, so the Kansas authorities have that job now.”

  “Did you look for him in Wichita?” Elmo asked.

  “Yep. He never showed up there, or Delano either.”

  Elmo looked genuinely surprised to hear that. Lon, silent and sullen to that point, and still not recovered from having his nose flattened, expressed his opinion. “The son of a bitch got away with all that money and to hell with us. I wish you’da caught him.” He got up from the cot he had been sitting on. “I reckon we’re gettin’ ready to leave our plush accommodations in this damn smokehouse now.”

  “Reckon so,” Will replied. “I figured you’d enjoy a little ride.”

  “I wish to hell Preacher was here to enjoy it with us,” Lon grumbled when Jim unlocked the cell door and motioned for them to come out one at a time so Will could tie their wrists together. As before, when he brought them down from the cave in the Arbuckles, he helped them up into the saddle, their hands behind their backs, with the reins tied to a lead rope. This time, however, Will decided to tie their feet together under the horse’s belly as well. He was well aware of Lon’s determination to escape at the slightest opportunity, knowing the potential for that would increase with each mile closer to Fort Smith.

  With his prisoners secured, Will said so long to Jim Little Eagle and started out on a trail leading past the Jack Fork Mountains and between the San Bois Mountains and the Winding Stair Mountains. It was a trail he had traveled many times, so he was confident he could make Fort Smith late on the third day with ample time to rest the horses. After riding about twenty-five miles, they came to a small creek where there were plenty of trees for his purposes, so he called for a stop to rest the horses. Then, one at a time, he helped his prisoners dismount, tying each one to a separate tree and promising himself that he was going to start using a posse man whenever he had to transport more than one man in the future. But for now, he had to continue securing each man completely before attending the other. It made for a lot of grumbling on the part of his prisoners, but he was in no position to give them any freedom at all. The job was made quite a bit more troublesome without the convenience of handcuffs. He had come to this hunt straight from his ranch in Texas, and he had no manacles with him, so he had to make sure his knots were tied properly.

  Allowing his prisoners nothing more than water during this stop, he reminded the
m that they had been fed a good breakfast from Lottie’s and he would feed them again when they stopped for the night. Back in the saddle, they rode until near the feet of the San Bois Mountains. Ordinarily, he would plan to camp overnight with his old friend Perley Gates in the San Bois Mountains, but due to the urgency he felt to deliver Lon and Elmo, he decided not to delay any more than necessary. Besides, he thought, I don’t have an extra sack of coffee and Perley always expects me to bring him some. The thought of his friend brought a smile to his face. Hell, he thought, changing his mind, I ain’t seen Perley in a hell of a long time. If he’s out of coffee, I’ll just let these two buzzards go without. Perley would be glad to see him and Will had a feeling the feisty little old man wouldn’t be around for many more years. The more he thought about it, the more he felt like he should check on him. It wouldn’t delay his arrival in Fort Smith enough to matter.

  He pushed the horses an extra five miles before coming to the gap in a long line of hills that marked the mouth of a long narrow passage that ended at a small meadow and Perley’s cabin. Buster seemed to know where he was going because the big buckskin turned toward the gap without any direction from Will. He followed the long winding trail through the hills until reaching the meadow. Certain that Perley would know he had company, he halted his prison train at the edge of the meadow, expecting Perley to be watching with a rifle trained on his visitors. “Perley!” Will called out several times, but there was no response. He looked at the cabin, built back up against the base of the mountain, realizing then that there was no smoke coming from the chimney. He shifted his gaze toward the tiny corral and saw no horse there.

  It appeared that Perley was off somewhere hunting. Will nudged Buster and rode on up to the cabin, only then realizing that the cabin was deserted. “What the hell is this place?” Lon blurted. Will didn’t bother to answer. He was interested more in the whereabouts of his old friend, but he couldn’t do much looking around until he made sure his prisoners were taken care of. Once Elmo and Lon were secured to their own private trees, however, he went inside the cabin, hoping he wouldn’t find evidence that Perley had come to some tragedy. Inside, he waited for a little while to let his eyes adjust to the darkness. When he could see better, it was obvious that the cabin was deserted and had been for some time. It occurred to him that he could let his prisoners sleep in the cabin that night, but he rejected the idea immediately. It was better to keep them tied up outside where they could be kept farther apart. The stale air in the little shack was not appealing to his nostrils, anyway. He turned to leave when his eye caught sight of a piece of cardboard propped against the fireplace. He picked it up when he noticed some writing on it. But it was too dark to make it out in the cabin, so he took it outside to look at it in the fading light of evening. Whoever finds this place is welcome to it. This is a good warm cabin. I bilt it and it has served me good. I won’t be back. Perley Gates.

  “Well, I’ll be . . .” Will exclaimed softly. “Perley finally did what he’s been threatenin’ to do for as long as I’ve known him. I reckon he’s off somewhere in the high mountains he’s always claimed he was gonna see some day.” He was distracted then by a complaint from the trees beside the cabin.

  “Ain’t you gonna feed us nothin’?” Elmo wailed.

  Will brought his thoughts quickly back to the business at hand. “Just hold your horses,” he said. Then after silently wishing Perley luck he went about the chore of making camp. He built a fire to boil coffee and fry bacon slices to go with the hardtack he had bought in Tom Brant’s store. When it was ready, he freed their hands and guarded them while they ate.

  “It’s a helluva job havin’ to watch two men, ain’t it, Deputy?” Lon taunted. “Makes it a lot harder when you got both of us untied at the same time, don’t it? We might decide to just take off in opposite directions. What would you do then?”

  “The marshal service gives us a standard procedure in that case,” Will declared. “I shoot the one who runs the fastest, then tell the closer one to halt. If he doesn’t, I shoot him, too. As long as I bring in both bodies, I get credit for the arrest and save court costs in the process.”

  “Ha!” Elmo grunted. “Damned if I don’t believe he’s tellin’ the truth.”

  He let them finish eating and answer nature’s call while he watched them with his rifle ready. Then he put them down for the night, each one between two trees, with hands tied to one tree and feet to the other. He kept enough slack in the rope to give them some movement in their arms and legs, but not enough to bring their hands down to their ankles. Only then did he eat, telling them that he would not sleep, but would stand guard over them all night while they slept.

  “You tellin’ me you ain’t gonna sleep till we get to Fort Smith?” Lon scoffed.

  “That’s right,” Will replied. “I can go without sleep for three and a half days and we’ll be in Fort Smith in less time than that.” It was not the absolute truth, although he had gone many a night without sleep, but not two or more nights in succession. He planned to catch a short nap when he was sure they were sleeping.

  When morning came, he woke with the first rays of the sun after a nap of almost an hour in the wee hours of the night. When his two prisoners showed signs of waking, he had a fire going and his coffeepot working away. Ordinarily, he would have gotten everybody in the saddle and on the trail, stopping to eat and drink coffee when the horses needed rest. But he thought a cup of hot coffee might help their spirits, considering the rough conditions of their trip to the gallows. It might also help to keep his senses alert since he was short on sleep.

  “I swear,” Elmo commented to Lon. “I believe the son of a bitch wasn’t japin’ us. I believe he did stay awake all night.”

  “I hope to hell he did,” Lon replied, “’cause I don’t believe he can stay awake two nights in a row and I still don’t have no intention of gettin’ dragged into that jail in Fort Smith.”

  “You thinkin’ ’bout makin’ another try like you did when you got your nose busted?” Elmo asked, unable to resist japin’ him about it. “You’re still talkin’ kinda funny with your nose flattened out like that.”

  “I’m glad you’re enjoyin’ this ride to Fort Smith so much. When I do get my chance, I just might leave you here with him,” Lon threatened.

  Elmo got serious then. “I ain’t wantin’ to go to jail anymore’n you do, but I can’t help you if you make another damn fool try like you did before. This jasper is too damn good to get took that easy. If we get a chance to jump him, we’ll both have to take him. We’ll just see how lucky we get between here and there.”

  “I’ll make my own luck,” Lon insisted as he glanced over at the small fire where Will was busy filling two cups with coffee. When Will brought the coffee over and untied Lon’s hands, he asked, “How many more nights you figure before we make it to Fort Smith?”

  “One more night is what I’m goin’ for,” Will answered. “Then you’ll have a nice comfortable cot to sleep on. Sorry it’s gonna be a lot of hard ridin’ to make it there by day after tomorrow, but I reckon you’re as anxious to get there as I am.”

  “Day after tomorrow, huh?” Lon repeated, and glanced at Elmo to make sure he was listening.

  It was not difficult to imagine why Lon was interested in the planned time of arrival. It only served to make Will more cautious in his handling of his prisoners. From the first, Lon Jackson was the one Will knew he had to watch. But he figured Elmo might be just as dangerous, in spite of his nonthreatening guise. He might be the one to attack when he least expected it.

  Things went well enough through the long day of travel, but when Will led his prisoners down to a clump of trees in a wide curve of the Poteau River, he was aware of a definite change in their demeanor. This was the last night on the trail. By the afternoon of the next day, they would reach Fort Smith and jail. If there was any time to strike, it would surely be now, so Will tried to be as careful as he could be and not give them any opportunity. He halfw
ay wished he had not taken pity on them and tied their hands in front of them instead of behind, as he had before. But it was mighty uncomfortable to sit in the saddle all day with your hands tied behind your back, so he relented.

  “Damn,” Lon was the first to complain. “You’re gettin’ harder on us every day.” He was still sitting in the saddle while Will helped Elmo dismount and secured him to a tree. “Wouldn’t hurt you none to at least untie my feet, so I can get ’em outta these stirrups. I got a terrible cramp in my ankle.” When Will ignored him, Elmo spoke up.

  “What you bellyachin’ about, Lon? You oughta be used to settin’ in that saddle, as long as we’ve been settin’ in ’em the past two days. You oughta look at it like I do, least ol’ Tanner didn’t make us walk all the way from Atoka. I’m kinda lookin’ forward to gettin’ to that jail with a cot to sleep on and a little walkin’ around room. Least, that’s what I heard about the jail at Fort Smith, ain’t no individual cells, just two big rooms. Ain’t that right, Tanner?”

  “That’s right, Elmo,” Will answered. “Just like stayin’ in a fancy hotel.”

  “Just like ol’ Gaylord Pressley,” Elmo crowed, “only we won’t have all the women and whiskey that money can buy.”

  “Who the hell’s Gaylord Pressley?” Lon asked.

  Elmo laughed. “Preacher!” he exclaimed. “Ain’t you ever heard Preacher joshin’ ’bout callin’ himself Gaylord Pressley when he struck it rich? He just made it up, thought it sounded like a real highfalutin son of a bitch.” He laughed again when he thought about his present situation. “Yessir, I reckon ol’ Gaylord has set himself up with the rich folks and bigwigs, and he can thank me and you for helpin’ him get all his money.”

  “I ain’t never heard him call himself that,” Lon said, failing to find the humor in it that Elmo had.

  “I reckon that musta been back before you joined up with me and Preacher,” Elmo said. He glanced up at Will, wondering what had suddenly caught the deputy’s attention.