Sathow's Sinners

by Marcus Galloway

  9

  Fortunately, it was a clear night because Nate insisted on riding with nothing but light from the stars to guide them. The horses and the mule plodded along at an easy pace, which, combined with the general flatness of Kansas terrain, allowed the small group to get a few miles outside of town where they found a spot to camp.

  The words passing between the men were clipped and concise.

  Only the most necessary of facts were passed back and forth, half of which were repeated requests for Deaugrey to shut the hell up.

  They’d all worked together enough to know better than to waste any opportunity to get a few hours of sleep.

  * * *

  The following morning started off just as quiet as the previous night had ended. All four men slept just past dawn before coming around, building a fire and digging through their saddlebags for fixings to make breakfast. Frank found some salted ham and beans while Nate brewed some chicory coffee. Deaugrey wasn’t very fond of mornings in general and sat hunched over with his eyes trained upon the fire, looking every bit the opposite of the man he’d been the night before.

  More than half an hour passed before the tranquil silence of a cool, sunny morning was broken.

  “What,” Nate asked, “the hell was all that about?”

  More silence.

  Finally, Pete looked around as though he’d only just realized someone had spoken. “You talking to me?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you mean what was going on last night in the Three Dog?”

  “Yes!” Nate growled.

  Pete shrugged and swirled his coffee within his dented cup. “I thought most of it came out before we left.”

  “Why don’t you clear it up for me?”

  “I was hired for a job, but the job wasn’t nothing but a way to draw attention from what was really goin’ on. I was told Cal Worsham was responsible for robbing a string of saloons in these parts, but he didn’t do anything of the sort. Nobody must’ve thought I’d find the real bandit because when I did, I was held at gunpoint until they could figure out what to do with me. More than likely, they were gonna shoot me after saying I cheated them or some other reason they pulled out of thin air. That asshole Jim already robbed me blind,” Pete said. “Took every last cent I had on me as well as everything I was paid for that job. Actually had the gall to call my hard-earned pay winnings from that sorry excuse of a game.”

  “So was the lady bartender sharing a bed with the fellow who came to yell at her before the shooting started?” Deaugrey asked.

  “That might explain a few things,” Frank said.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Nate said dismissively. “We showed up for the tail end of the affair and now it’s over. Let’s just—”

  “She was getting a cut of the money that was stolen in them robberies,” Pete said as if Nate hadn’t even spoken. “And since her saloon wasn’t getting robbed, all of the paying customers and gamblers were headed there instead of taking their chances of getting caught in a shootout anywhere else.”

  Deaugrey laughed heartily. “We saw how that worked out for them!”

  “Yeah,” Pete replied with a grin. “I guess we did, at that.”

  “It was fortunate we showed up when we did.”

  Now it was Frank’s turn to laugh, although his wasn’t nearly as heartfelt as what had come before. “I would have been more surprised if either of you hadn’t been in some sort of trouble when Nate and I came along.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Deaugrey asked. “That we’re nothing but a bunch of sinners?”

  “Man’s got a point,” Pete grumbled. “Don’t know if I’d say I’m a sinner, but we all do see more than our share of trouble.”

  “And you know what all of us have in common?” Deaugrey asked. He then jabbed a finger at Nate and said, “Him! Me, Pete, a preacher and all the other misfits Nate Sathow pulls together got no business being mentioned in the same sentence unless it’s to set up a bad joke.”

  The three of them cut loose with enough genuine laughter to echo in every direction. Frank was caught so off his guard that he spilled a good portion of his coffee on his lap.

  Instinctively reveling in the moment, Deaugrey added, “Nathan even turned a preacher into one of his sinners! I say this man is the devil himself but instead, I’m the one who gets locked away!”

  Still laughing, Frank glanced over to see how Nate was taking the ribbing. His expression was plenty sour, but there was something beneath it that made it clear he was simply fighting the urge to join in the fun.

  “Look at him,” Deaugrey continued. “Won’t even admit when he’s wrong. He seemed more comfortable when bullets were flying on all sides.”

  “You’re right about that,” Pete said. “He’s always been that way. Ever since I known him.”

  “You know what I was before I knew him?” Frank asked.

  “Free from bullet wounds?” Deaugrey asked.

  “Apart from that.”

  “I can’t imagine.”

  Giving Nate a nudge with his elbow, Frank said, “Bored.”

  “Well ain’t none of us can say that no more,” Pete said. “And as for the sinning part, I’d say there’s some truth in that as well. I tend to get into a fair amount of trouble with or without the lot of you bein’ around to watch. Hey, Nate?”

  “Yeah?”

  “How’d you know where to find me, anyhow?”

  “I make it my business to know where I can find a good sinner when I need one,” Nate replied.

  Either that made complete sense to the others around the fire or they knew better than to ask the question again because the other three let the matter rest.

  “Since we’re all in such high spirits,” Nate continued, “now seems like a good time for me to tell you why you’re all here.”

  “Good Lord,” Deaugrey sighed. “I thought he’d never get around to that.”

  “The man’s a spigot clogged with molasses,” Pete said. “Ain’t no rushing him.”

  “I had a more colorful comparison in mind, but I suppose that one works as well.”

  “You finished?” Nate asked.

  Deaugrey shrugged and focused his attention on the task of cutting his ham into more pieces. “Go on and say your piece, spigot.”

  Nate dug into one of his pockets while asking, “Did any of you men hear about the killings that took place in Gentry County, Missouri?”

  “I heard some bit of nasty business happened out that way,” Pete replied. “Probably was something in the newspapers, but I don’t got no use for reading them things.”

  “And I never got any papers in McKeag’s,” Deaugrey said. “Not after one of the patients rolled up a Sunday edition to be used as a club against the orderlies.”

  “I wonder which patient could have possibly been responsible for that?” Frank mused.

  “Why, I am appalled, sir!” Deaugrey said in a voice that seemed to have been pulled straight from the fertile soil of a Virginia plantation.

  “Are you idiots gonna listen or not?” Nate bellowed.

  The other three quieted down.

  “Good,” Nate said with exasperation. “Now where was I?”

  “Killings,” Pete grunted. “Gentry County.”

  “Right. Have any of you heard mention of a jailbreak in that region of Missouri?”

  Frank’s head perked up. “I did hear something about that! Very bloody business from what I understand.”

  “Bloody doesn’t begin to do it justice,” Nate said. “Three prisoners were tortured and killed. After that, two guards were strung up and whittled down to nothing with knives from the kitchen.”

  “Good Lord above,” Frank said.

  Nate nodded. “And that was just meant as a distraction. When the rest of the guards came running, they were rippe
d to pieces by prisoners who were so riled up they damn near busted the walls down with their bare hands. More prisoners were killed. More guards were killed. Even a few normal folks wound up dead just because they happened to be there visiting family that was locked up.”

  Pouring himself some more coffee, Deaugrey asked, “If this is what you consider friendly breakfast conversation, I’d rather go back to you being quiet while the rest of us enjoy ourselves.”

  “I take it these things are connected somehow,” Pete said.

  Nate nodded. “You got that right. One of the few men to make it out of that bloody jailbreak is the same one who tore through a good portion of the rest of the county to kill those poor souls that were written about in the papers. Casey Pescaterro.”

  Any bit of remaining frivolity around the campfire dried up and blew away with the mention of that name.

  “Casey Pescaterro,” Pete said. “The same Casey Pescaterro who rode with the Youngers?”

  “Yep. Rode with them for a short while, anyhow.”

  “Right. He was booted out of that gang when Cole Younger said he made things too difficult for the rest of ’em. When Cole Younger says somethin’ like that about a man . . . let’s just say that’s no man you wanna meet.”

  While Pete had been talking, Deaugrey tapped his head in an ever-quickening rhythm. The force with which his finger met his forehead grew until it became loud enough for all of the other men to hear. When it stopped, Deaugrey said, “Wait a second! Casey Pescaterro?”

  “That’s right,” Nate replied with a half grin that showed he knew all of what was going through Deaugrey’s mind.

  “As in, Casey ‘Dog Ear’ Pescaterro?”

  “The very same.”

  “Dog Ear?” Frank asked.

  “I’ve heard of that one,” Deaugrey said.

  Nate helped himself to some more coffee. “Thought that you might.”

  Since Frank so rarely lost his patience, it caught everyone’s attention when he snapped, “Is someone going to tell me what the ‘Dog Ear’ is about?”

  “I’ve heard a few different tellings of the story,” Deaugrey replied. “All of them start off with him robbing just about any old place he could find. Dressmakers, feed stores, even a schoolhouse.”

  “What’s there to rob at a schoolhouse?”

  “Hell if I know!” Deaugrey said with a smile. “Isn’t it just perfectly random? One of those stories goes on to say that he was fed up with not being recognized for his crimes like the men who robbed banks and such, so he started marking each of his jobs. Or rather, he started marking the folks he met while on those jobs. Bit some of their ears off. Must’ve gotten a taste for it because he kept doing it everywhere he went. Left those poor bastards looking like raggedy stray dogs. That’s my favorite story.”

  “I heard another one,” Nate said. “Something about him losing his mind while on a stagecoach to Cheyenne. Don’t know what set him off, but he tore into everyone in there with him . . . tooth and nail. When he was done, he set the coach on fire from the inside and stayed there until he was through with the last passenger. The only thing that wasn’t covered in blood or burnt to ash by the time he managed to get the door open was a dog-eared copy of the Bible.”

  “Perhaps even a man like him holds favor with the Lord above,” Frank offered.

  “You ask me,” Nate said, “that don’t say much about the Lord’s choice of friends. Casey’s been locked up a couple of times and every time he escapes, he runs off like a wild dog. Even howls at the moon along the way.”

  “That could also explain the Dog Ear name,” Pete said.

  Deaugrey shook his head. “I like my story better.”

  “Me too, actually.”

  “I’ve also heard that he was raised by wolves.”

  “Is that a fact?” Pete asked.

  “Maybe, maybe not,” Deaugrey admitted. “It’s just one of those things I heard somewhere.”

  Pete was about to continue with the conversation until he saw Nate glaring at him. “You were saying?”

  “Thanks, Pete,” Nate replied. To everyone, he said, “Pescaterro needs to be brought in and we’re the ones who get the job. The pay is two thousand each.”

  “Does that include the bounty on any of Dog Ear’s associates that we happen to bag along the way?” Pete asked.

  “No,” Nate replied with a grin. “That’s just the pay for bringing in Dog Ear. Anyone else we find who has a price on his head, and there’s gonna be more than a few I’d wager, is a bonus.”

  Deaugrey’s narrowed his eyes suspiciously as he asked, “There’s an eight thousand dollar bounty on Pescaterro? He’s a killer who may also be a cannibal by now, but that’s a mighty big bounty for someone who hasn’t even bothered to rob a bank. Who’s offering that kind of money?”

  “It’s not a bounty,” Nate said. “Not all of it anyhow. Pescaterro is a cold-blooded murderer and a menace, so there is a price on his head. Fifteen hundred, I think. Maybe two thousand. The lion’s share of that money isn’t being offered to just anyone. This is a special job and we’re the only ones who are gonna cash it in.”

  “That’s not an answer to my question,” Deaugrey prodded.

  “It’s a real offer,” Nate said. “And we will get paid. That’s all we need to know.”

  “That’s not all you know, however,” Frank said.

  Pete looked over to the preacher and said, “I thought you’d know too.”

  “Do you think I’m always riding by this one’s side?” Frank asked while hooking a thumb toward Nate.

  Looking between Nate and Frank, Pete said, “Well . . . yeah.”

  “If you must know,” Nate cut in, “the rest is being offered by a group of men who have a professional interest in seeing Pescaterro brought to justice. Who they are, exactly, isn’t important. I’m the one who was called in for this venture and I only met one of these fellows. Discretion is a big part of this deal, you understand?”

  “Oh yeah!” Deaugrey said. “I understand all right. It certainly wasn’t any bounty hunters offering that sort of money because that just wouldn’t make sense. Politicians or anyone in the government like mayors or the like would turn to the law. That means these concerned citizens you’re referring to are lawmen! Am I right?”

  “Actually . . . you are.”

  Deaugrey stood up so fast he nearly sent his breakfast plate into the fire. “I knew it! I knew it!”

  “I’ll be damned,” Pete said. “Are you serious?”

  Looking as if he barely believed it himself, Nate said, “I’m not supposed to give any names, but the man who approached me with this job is a keeper of the peace and represents others of that sort. As such, these men have a vested interest in hunting down Casey Pescaterro before he does any more damage or causes any further bloodshed.”

  “As someone who has written his fair share of sermons,” Frank said, “that sounds like one well-rehearsed speech.”

  “And I barely had any practice,” Nate said. “The only reason I know it front and back is because the man who hired me must’ve said it a half dozen times.”

  Pete scraped up his last few beans and shoveled them into his mouth as he said, “Just a fancy way of sayin’ these lawmen don’t have the brains or the sand to chase after someone as dangerous and batshit crazy as Dog Ear Pescaterro.”

  Raising his hands while looking to the sky, Frank said, “Amen and hallelujah, brother!”

  This time, Nate didn’t try to keep a straight face as everyone started to laugh. When it died down, he said, “I did some checking as I always do and found out there’s real money being offered. Due to various business interests and a whole lot of convoluted bullshit of that nature, it truly is in several wealthy people’s best interests to put Dog Ear away. He’s busted out of too many jails, eluded too many lawmen, and made too many
officials look like cowardly fools. And then there’s the rest of the Pescaterro bunch.”

  “Here we go,” Pete said. “Ain’t no job offered by Nate Sathow is just a simple hunt.”

  “Of course,” Nate scoffed. “Simple hunters are a dime a dozen. If it was an easy job or even just a messy one, the pay wouldn’t be so damn good. The big concern after this particular jailbreak is that someone has been putting together a proper gang and they’re just waiting for Casey to come along to lead them into . . .”

  After a few seconds, Pete asked, “Into what?”

  “That’s what we’re getting paid such good money to find out. Two things I can tell you for certain is it won’t be good and we won’t see a dime of that money unless we put a stop to it. There’s also a real good likelihood that one or all of us will get shot or stabbed—”

  “Or bitten,” Frank added.

  “Right,” Nate said. “Or bitten. So if any of you want out, now’s the time to say so.” When nobody said anything, Nate nodded once. “All right then. Let’s ride.”

  10

  The ride back across the state line into Missouri was mostly uneventful. When they stopped at the occasional town or trading post, Pete gathered the supplies he needed while Frank had a word with anyone he could find who might know a thing or two about what Pescaterro had been up to. It came as no surprise to anyone that the few bits of information he did collect were nothing more than wild stories about a wilder man.

  As they rode away from a mining camp ensconced in the rolling hills of western Missouri, Nate asked, “Find anything useful this time?”

  “Pescaterro passed through these parts not too long ago,” Frank replied. “Other than that, no.”

  “Well that’s somethin’,” Pete said.

  “You know what’s something?” Deaugrey asked. “This knife!” With a flourish, he produced a thin blade that had been tucked up into the sleeve of his secondhand coat.

  “Where’d you get that?” Nate asked.