Evil Never Sleeps

by William W. Johnstone

  Dismissed as nonsense by Lon, Elmo’s rambling had indeed struck a chord in Will’s brain, causing him to consider a bizarre possibility. Should he have been searching Wichita for some stranger calling himself Gaylord Pressley, maybe in the Parker House instead of the low-class saloons of Delano? He had the money to pull it off. It was probably a ridiculous notion, but it reopened the void left in Will’s mind for having to end his unsuccessful mission to find Preacher McCoy. Now the possibility that Preacher had been in Wichita all the while he had searched in all the wrong places was a thought that he could not easily let go of. Quickly fetching his thoughts back to what he was doing, he finished tying Elmo and turned to take care of the scowling Lon Jackson. He was anxious more than ever now to deliver the two outlaws to jail, his mind awhirl with the possibility of going after Preacher again. Right away, he feared it might be impossible to persuade Dan Stone to let him go back to Wichita. Stone had already shown a reluctance to having his deputies work with Kansas deputies. The need to finish the job he came so close to completing was too strong to resist. For his own satisfaction, he had to go back to Kansas, if he had to take a leave of absence to do it unofficially.

  He untied the rope under the horse’s belly that had held Lon’s feet in the stirrups in case he really did have a cramp in his ankle. He stood back to give him room to dismount. “All right, grab the saddle horn and get down,” Will said, while holding his rifle on him, but Lon still sat, unmoving, his face screwed up as if in pain. “Get off the horse,” Will commanded.

  “I swear, I’m tryin’,” Lon replied. “It’s my damn leg. The cramp’s moved up into my whole leg and I can’t get it to move.”

  Not ready to buy that story, Will gave him a few seconds longer, then took a step closer, intending to jerk Lon’s foot out of the stirrup. An interested spectator, Elmo watched to see what Lon was going to attempt, for, like Will, he didn’t believe Lon had a cramp. But in case Lon had a plan, he was ready to offer his help. “Yeah, he gets them cramps every time we take a long ride,” he said.

  “Is that so?” Will responded, then jerked Lon’s boot from the stirrup. Lon let out a long sigh of relief and slowly stood up on one leg in the stirrup. He then made a dramatic show of lifting his leg ever so carefully in an effort to swing it over to dismount. Instead of stepping down, however, he suddenly leaped from the saddle to land on Will’s shoulders, sending both of them to the ground. With his wrists tied together, Lon fought to throw his arms over Will’s head to clamp down on his neck from behind while wrapping his legs around Will’s waist to ride him like a pony. Unable to shake him off after a couple of attempts, Will charged like a bull at the nearest tree, turning his body enough to give Lon the full force of the collision. It was enough to make Lon grunt with each blow as he was repeatedly thrown against the bark of the trunk. Finally, Will was able to grab Lon’s wrists and force them back up over his head. Then, using Lon’s arms for leverage, he forced him down until Lon had to give way with his legs and drop to the ground. Unwilling to give up, he got on his feet again and charged at Will, who was ready for him this time. With his feet set wide apart to brace himself, Will aimed his first punch to land squarely on Lon’s already battered nose. Capable of throwing a right-hand punch with considerable force, Will stopped the desperate outlaw’s charge with one blow. The excruciating pain of the broken bones as they were smashed anew was enough to stun Lon and he dropped flat on his back. Will stood over him for a few moments to make sure he was through, then he grabbed his ankles and dragged him over to a tree.

  After Lon was tied securely, Will picked up his hat, which he had lost during the scuffle. Placing it squarely on his head again, he turned his attention to Elmo, who had been feverishly working to unearth a sizable rock that was halfway embedded in the ground near his feet. Will looked at the rock, then back at Elmo again. “A rock?” he asked. “Was that your part of the plan? If Lon rode me over by this tree, you were supposed to hit me in the head with that rock? How were you supposed to pick up the rock, tied to the tree like that?”

  Elmo grinned sheepishly. “I hadn’t figured that out yet.” He shrugged. “Hell, you never can tell, I mighta worked somethin’ out.”

  Will shook his head, amazed. “Well, I reckon if the rodeo is over, I might as well build a fire and fix us something to eat.” He started toward the horses to unsaddle them, but stopped, turned around to take another look at Elmo. Then he went to his packhorse to get his hatchet. Returning to the tree, he used the hand ax to loosen the dirt around the rock. When he had uncovered enough dirt to loosen it, he picked the rock up and carried it to the river and threw it in.

  In a short time, Will had coffee working and sowbelly frying in the pan. When it was ready, he took their supper to each of them, although it was a little while longer before Lon felt well enough to eat. Elmo, on the other hand, had his usual appetite, as well as feeling he was unable to resist japing with Lon. “I swear, Lon,” he said when his partner showed signs of life, “I don’t never get tired of watchin’ you tryin’ to escape.” He received a dark scowl in response as he watched Lon taking cautious sips of hot coffee. “If you ain’t gonna eat that bacon, I’ll take it,” Elmo said. He was rewarded with another scowl as Lon picked up a piece of the sowbelly and forced himself to chew it.

  * * *

  They arrived in Fort Smith late the following afternoon. Finally resigned to the improbability of escape, the two outlaws made no further attempt, so the ride was uneventful. Will walked the horses straight through town to the courthouse where he turned his prisoners over to Sid Randolph at the district jail. “What happened to this one?” Sid asked when he saw the shape Lon’s face was in. “He looks like he got kicked by a mule.”

  “He’s just a slow learner,” Will said, as he untied the rope binding Lon’s hands. “But you gotta give him credit for tryin’.” He looked at Elmo, who seemed to be studying him intensely. When their eyes met, Elmo spoke.

  “Well, Deputy Will Tanner,” he said, “looks like our little journey is over. I gotta say you treated us fairly, but I can’t say it was a pleasure knowin’ you.”

  “I’d say the same goes for me,” Will replied. “You and Lon behave yourselves and they’ll treat you fair in here.” He turned to leave, but Elmo caused him to pause with another comment.

  “You’re goin’ back after Preacher.” It was not a question.

  “Maybe,” Will said. “Maybe not.”

  “Take my advice, you’d best be careful.”

  “Always am,” Will replied. He was almost convinced that Elmo was sincere in his advice to be cautious. He went out the door then, with only a wave of his hand to acknowledge Elmo’s parting comment.

  “I’ll see you in hell,” Elmo promised.

  Will led the horses down to the stable to leave them in Vern Tuttle’s care. “They’ve worked hard, Vern. Let’s give ’em all a portion of oats.” He placed what was left on his packhorse in the small storeroom he rented in the stable and piled the extra saddles in a corner of one of the stalls. He purposely took his time putting everything away because he knew he should report at once to Dan Stone. There was something he wanted to do before he saw Stone, however, and if he killed enough time, maybe Dan would leave the office for the day and Will would have to wait till morning to report.

  CHAPTER 10

  Leaving the stable, Will walked directly to the telegraph office where he found an operator on duty. The operator recognized him as one of the deputies, so he automatically charged the call to the marshal’s office. Will didn’t bother to tell him otherwise. “I wanna send a wire to Gaylord Pressley. He’s at the Parker House Hotel in Wichita, Kansas.”

  “Right,” the operator said. “Whaddaya wanna say? You can write it down on that pad there.”

  Will had to pause for a moment to think how to word the telegram. He really had no message to send, he just wanted to know if someone took delivery of the telegram. “I don’t need to write it down. Just say, ‘everything all right
here,’ that oughta do it.” The operator shrugged indifferently and sent the message. “I’ll check back with you later to see if there’s a reply,” he said, then thought, “if there ain’t no reply, they’ll still let me know if it was delivered, won’t they?”

  “Yep, we’ll know if somebody accepted the telegram, but I might not get the confirmation right away, maybe not till tomorrow.”

  “Well, like I said, I’ll check with you later tonight. If you don’t have it, I’ll check first thing in the mornin’.” He walked back to the courthouse then, hoping Dan Stone was already gone, so he could tell him tomorrow that he had reported in, but just missed him. He happened to meet Deputy Ed Pine coming down the stairs from the second floor of the courthouse where Stone’s office was. Always a friend to Will, he stopped to visit. “Just gettin’ back in town?” Ed asked. Will said that was the case, so Ed said, “If you’re lookin’ for Dan, you just missed him. He’s already gone home.” That was the news Will wanted to hear because now Ed could tell Stone that he had tried to report. Will had a lot riding on nothing more than a hunch and if that telegram was accepted by somebody claiming to be Gaylord Pressley, Stone might be willing to hear him out. “Come on over to the Smith House with me and I’ll buy you a drink,” Ed offered. “I just got back from deliverin’ a couple of subpoenas. That’s about all Dan lets me do ever since that time I got shot up so bad.”

  Knowing Ed was paid just fifty cents for each subpoena he served, plus six cents a mile to deliver it, and nothing for the return trip, Will thought it best to decline the invitation. “’Preciate the invitation, Ed, but I’m gonna miss my supper if I don’t get on down to the boardin’ house. Ruth doesn’t know I made it back to town yet, so she won’t be savin’ anything for me if I’m late. And I’ve got to check by the telegraph office on my way home. Maybe we’ll have a drink tomorrow sometime, if you ain’t ridin’ out somewhere in the mornin’.”

  “We’ll see you tomorrow then,” Ed Pine said. “I’ll be around the office most of the day, I expect.” They parted company then with Will heading toward the telegraph office, and Ed to the Smith House where he kept a room. Will didn’t want to drink there, anyway, since that had also been Alvin Greeley’s hangout.

  After checking for a confirmation at the telegraph office, and finding that there had been no reply so far, Will told the operator he would check again in the morning. He headed for home then because he really did want to get there before the women threw the food out.

  * * *

  “Well, hello stranger,” Sophie Bennett greeted the tall man with his saddlebags slung on his shoulder and carrying a Winchester rifle. “If you’re looking for a room for the night, you’d best try the hotel. We don’t have any vacant rooms here.”

  “I’ll sleep on the porch if I have to, as long as I’m not too late for supper,” Will said, making a concerted effort to be as casual as she, even as his emotions were churning inside his head. The declarations of his feelings for her that he had rehearsed during long hours in the saddle seemed woefully immature upon facing her now.

  Sophie laughed. “Where in the world have you been? Mama was about ready to rent your room out.”

  “Just about everywhere, I reckon. What are you doin’ out here on the porch? It’s gettin’ kinda chilly without your coat, ain’t it?” Say it, he thought. You were determined to do it. Say it now while you have her alone.

  “Mama sent me out here to watch for strays and doggoned if you didn’t show up just when I thought I’d never find one.” She laughed again, then said, “It got so hot in the kitchen over that stove that I decided I needed to get a breath of cold air. I’d better go in and tell Mama there’s gonna be another one at the table.” She paused to give him a long look. “You look like you need to clean up before supper. You’ve got time if you don’t take too long.”

  He immediately reached up to feel the whiskers on his chin. “I guess I do need a little polishin’. I ain’t had much time to think about that.” Her comments suddenly made him feel embarrassed and all the thoughts he had had about the possibility of approaching her to confess his feelings for her now seemed foolhardy, maybe even to the point of terrifying him.

  She studied his face for a moment longer before asking, “Are you going to be in town for a while now?”

  He didn’t want to say that he hoped not, since he had it in mind to return to track Preacher down. “I can’t say for sure how long I’ll be here right now. It depends on what my boss says in the mornin’, I reckon.”

  “Well, come on in and clean up a little,” she said. “It won’t be long before supper.” She held the door for him and as he passed by her, he was aware of a hint of baked bread mixed with her natural gentle fragrance. He was immediately struck with a fear of what he must smell like, causing him to glance quickly at her face. She only smiled in return, leaving him to wallow in doubt, his resolve to declare his love for her rapidly losing strength. “Hurry up,” she prodded him. As he walked down the hall past the kitchen, Sophie’s mother glanced up to see him and called out a welcome home. He acknowledged her greeting with one of his own and continued walking.

  When Sophie swung in the kitchen door, Ruth studied her face intently for a few moments before commenting, “Well, it’s nice to see that Will came home safely. There’s always a chance that a deputy marshal won’t, so I’m glad he made it back this time.” Accustomed to her mother’s suggestive comments when it came to Will, Sophie responded with nothing more than a sweet smile. She always frustrated her mother with that typical response, for Ruth wanted to discuss her obvious interest in Will Tanner and she wanted to convince her that the chances were high that one day he wouldn’t return home. Although her mother’s thinly veiled warnings became tiresome to Sophie, she knew that she was acting purely out of concern for her daughter.

  As was the usual case, Will was afforded a warm welcome home from the other boarders at the supper table with the usual questions about where he had been. Will answered with his typical conservative use of words, to the disappointment of Ron Sample, who always seemed to press him for gory details of the confrontations. “When are you goin’ out again?” Ron asked.

  “Maybe in a day or two, I ain’t sure,” Will answered, and glanced at Sophie to see her reaction and noticed that Ruth was watching her, too. Neither made any comment.

  After supper, when the kitchen was cleaned up, Sophie made it a point to find him in the parlor when he was alone. Determined to finally express his feelings while he had the chance, Will swallowed hard and started. “Sophie, I’m considering this trip in the morning as maybe my last one as a deputy. It depends on what my prospects are for settling down with someone.” It was obvious who he meant by that someone.

  “You know I care for you, Will,” she said. “I just don’t know if you really can give up your life as a lawman. And as much as I care for you, I don’t want to sit alone on lonely nights wondering if you’re all right, or if you’re lying wounded somewhere, or worse.”

  “I can give it up,” he was quick to assure her. She had said she cared for him, but was it enough to marry him? He was afraid to assume as much. “Shorty and the boys have done real well with the J-Bar-J, better than I expected. When I get back there, we’ll make it even bigger. I know we can, and I’ll be ready to have a family. But I’ve got to go this one last time. I’m the best chance to put this outlaw where he belongs. Then I’m comin’ home.”

  “I’ll hold you to that promise,” she said, then turned around and returned to the kitchen, leaving him to stare after her, still uncertain if he was standing on firm ground or not, and still having failed to express his love for her.

  * * *

  Right after breakfast Will was on his way to the telegraph office. Finding a different operator at the desk, he identified himself and what he was looking for. The operator checked a log in front of him and told Will what he had hoped to hear. “That message was delivered last night to the party in the Parker House in Wichita.”
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  “Does that mean the party’s name was Gaylord Pressley?” Will asked.

  The operator shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. “It means that somebody accepted the message that was sent to Gaylord Pressley. That’s all I can tell you.” He saw Will’s concern and added, “At least it didn’t come back as undeliverable.”

  “That’s right,” Will said. “Thanks.” To him that was as good as verifying Preacher was there in Wichita. He felt certain that Elmo had unwittingly given him the information that would lead him to Preacher’s capture. Now the job ahead of him was to convince Dan Stone to let him go back to find him and that might prove to be more difficult at this point.

  * * *

  “Well, there you are,” Dan greeted him when he looked up from his desk to see Will walk in. “Kinda thought I’d see you first thing this morning. Ed Pine said you got in last night.”

  “Yeah, I did. I saw Ed when I tried to catch you last night. I’da been here earlier this mornin’, but I had to check by the telegraph office first.”

  “I got word that you brought in two of those four that robbed the bank in Texas. That left one of them dead and the other one in Kansas somewhere, right?”

  “The other one, Preacher McCoy, is still in Wichita,” Will was quick to inform him. “He was the leader of the gang, and he’s using another name, Gaylord Pressley.”

  “Gaylord Pressley?” Stone responded. “How do you know that? What kinda prissy name is that, anyway?”

  “One he’s used before, according to what one of the men I brought in told me,” Will answered. He went on then to tell Stone why he knew Preacher was still in Wichita, about the telegram he sent, and reminded Stone that Preacher was still in possession of most of the total twenty thousand dollars stolen from the bank. When Stone shook his head, still unconvinced, Will repeated, “Somebody accepted the telegram addressed to Gaylord Pressley. It ain’t hardly a common name.”