“Eli Stark?” Stone exchanged a look of astonishment with Ed, then asked Will, “You’re saying he was shot by Eli Stark?” Will nodded.
“Who shot you?” Stone asked.
“Eli Stark,” Will replied.
Stone went on. “Eli Stark has been wanted for murder and robbery in Kansas and Missouri, and you’re telling me he’s back in Indian Territory?” Will nodded again. “You’re gonna have to explain the whole thing to me,” Stone went on. “Start at the beginning and take me through what happened step by step.”
Will did as Stone requested, telling him everything that had occurred. When he had finished, he told him why he had returned with the corpse of Max Tarbow. “I wasn’t sure you’d believe me, so I brought Tarbow back to show you.” He nodded toward the horses. “I brought back most of the weapons they had, and three saddlebags full of money they stole from those banks they hit in Texas.”
“Is that a fact?” Stone asked. “How much is it?”
“I don’t rightly know. I didn’t count it.”
“But you say you captured Tarbow in Texas?”
“It wasn’t very far in Texas,” Will replied, wondering if he was going to be in trouble for that, since Texas was officially out of his jurisdiction.
Stone and Ed Pine both grinned at his response. “Well, let’s have a look at him,” Stone said, and pulled the canvas away from the corpse. “Whoa!” he exclaimed, and stepped back. “He’s already starting to get a little overripe.” But still curious to see the notorious outlaw, he lifted the canvas again long enough to see the face, which at that stage the skin had turned green. “I reckon that’s him, all right,” he said, “just like they said, with the eye patch and the pirate’s beard.” He dropped the corner of canvas he was holding. “But I’ll tell you what you need to do. Take it to the undertaker right now.” He paused to ask, “You know where that is?”
Will said he did. “Mr. Kittridge, right? The same feller that took care of those fellers Pride and I shot in the Mornin’ Glory Saloon.”
“Right,” Stone said. “Then go have Doc Peters take care of that wound before you bleed to death. After he fixes you up, go on home and get some rest. Come back here in the morning and we’ll review the whole thing. Okay?”
“I’m thinkin’ I need to go back in the Nations to find Eli Stark,” Will said. “I know I put one bullet in him, but I didn’t stop him.”
“We’ll talk about that in the morning, too,” Stone said. “Go on and get that shoulder taken care of.”
Will took the saddlebags that held the stolen money off the horses and handed them to Stone, then he stepped up in the saddle and rode off to deliver the body. Stone and Ed stood to watch him as he rode away. “That’s damn sorry news about Fletcher Pride,” Ed said. “They just don’t make ’em like Pride no more.”
“You’re right about that,” Stone said, still watching the rider disappearing down the street. “But damned if I don’t think we’ve got a helluva replacement.”
CHAPTER 14
Sophie Bennett paused in her sweeping of the front steps to take another look at the man walking toward her from the direction of Vern Tuttle’s stables, his saddlebags over his right shoulder and his rifle in his hand. Although knowing him for only a brief time, she easily recognized his long stride, and she frowned, concerned, to see his left arm in a sling. She stood, awaiting him, her broom in hand, and when he had approached within earshot, she greeted him cheerfully. “Well, I see you’re back in town, Mr. Tanner. Looks like you’ve had a little mishap.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, “a little.” As before, he stumbled for words in her presence. “My name’s Will. Please don’t call me Mr. Tanner.”
“All right, Will,” she said, favoring him with a friendly smile. “Where’s Fletcher?”
“Fletcher’s dead, miss, shot down by a murderin’ outlaw, and I’m really sorry to have to bring you that news.”
“Oh my Lord,” Sophie gasped. “Fletcher dead?” It was almost too terrible to believe. “He always came back home.” She thought at once of her mother and her fondness for the gruff-looking lawman who was just a big teddy bear when he was at home in the boardinghouse. “Mother will be so sad to hear he’s gone.” Even as she said it, she knew just how hard it would hit her mother. Thinking then of Will’s obviously wounded arm, she asked, “But you’re hurt, too. Is it serious?”
“No, ma’am,” Will answered. “It’s a gunshot wound. Doc Peters dug the bullet out about an hour ago, said for me to give it a chance to heal some before I try to use it.”
Ruth Bennett came out on the front porch, curious to see whom Sophie was talking to. “Well, Mr. Tanner,” she greeted him in the same cheerful voice her daughter had used. “We’re glad to see you back.” She didn’t ask, but glanced up the street as if looking to see if he was alone.
“Mama,” Sophie said, “Fletcher was killed.”
It was too sudden for Ruth to hide her shock. Although she tried not to show the impact the horrible news had upon her, she was not successful in controlling the grief in her eyes. She grasped the porch corner post to steady herself while she tried to recover her composure. “That is tragic news,” she finally managed. “He will be sorely missed. We were all quite fond of Fletcher. He was with us so long, he was almost like family.”
Will leaned his rifle against the front steps to free his hand. “I brought you something I thought you might wanna have.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a metal object wrapped in a cloth. “This is Fletcher’s deputy marshal badge. I think he’d feel pleased if I gave it to you to remember him by. I think he thought you were a special lady.” Pride had never talked to him about Ruth, so he was not really sure if he had any real affection for her or not. But he was of the opinion that it wouldn’t hurt to let Ruth think that he did, and judging by her facial expression, he figured he had done the right thing.
“Why, thank you, Will,” Ruth said, obviously deeply touched. “It was a nice thing for you to do. I’ll take good care of it.” She started to ask him about the arm he was favoring in a sling, but suddenly became emotional. “I’d best see how supper is coming along,” she said hurriedly, and spun on her heel to go back inside.
* * *
In was an unusually quiet supper table that night at Ruth Bennett’s boardinghouse. Fletcher Pride had normally been missing from the table on more nights than he was present, due to the nature of his job. But on this night, his absence loomed larger than ever before and was felt by everyone at the table. After supper, Sophie inquired again about Will’s wound and offered to help him care for it. “I ’preciate it,” Will said, “but Doc Peters said to leave the bandage on and change it tomorrow if I thought it needed changin’.”
“All right,” Sophie said. “We’ll take a look at it tomorrow and clean it up if it’s needed.”
A little while after Will had gone to his room, there was a knock on his door. He answered it to find Ruth standing there holding a couple of towels. “I didn’t know if you needed extra towels or not,” she said, “but I brought them in case you did.” He thanked her and took the towels from her, but she remained in the doorway. “Mind if I come in for a minute?” she asked. “I won’t keep you but a minute.” He had a fair idea of why she wanted to come in, so he stood back and held the door for her. Inside, she hesitated before coming out with it. “I am so sorry to hear about Fletcher’s death, and I was wondering if you would tell me how it happened.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “There’s not much to tell you.” He didn’t see any reason to re-create the scene he’d found with Pride’s body hanging from a tree, a warning sign written on his long underwear, and his forehead shattered by the fatal bullet as it had exited from his skull. “We split up while we were lookin’ for Max Tarbow and his four men. I reckon somehow they got behind Fletcher, and they shot him in the back. That was the only way they coulda got him was to sneak up on him. At least that’s the way I figure it. Like I said, I was on
the other side of the mountain. It was unlucky, but like Pride told me, Everybody’s got a number, and ain’t no use worryin’ ’bout when your number gets called. I reckon his number was up.”
She stood there for a long moment after he finished, trying to settle the incident of his death in her mind, before she spoke. “Thank you, Will,” she said. “I was just wondering, that’s all. He was a special man, and he will be missed by everyone who knew him.” She turned to leave, then paused. “I’m sorry that you were wounded,” she said, almost as an afterthought. “Did you catch the outlaws?”
“Yes, ma’am, they’re all dead.”
“Good,” she said, and walked away.
* * *
Before reporting to Dan Stone, Will went down to the telegraph office to send a wire to Jim Little Eagle, telling him where he had left the wagon he had to leave behind. With that done, he walked back to the courthouse.
“Come on in, Will,” Dan Stone said when Will rapped on the doorjamb of Stone’s open door. “How’s that wound—Doc say you’re gonna live?”
“He said to wear this sling for a few days, but I’m thinkin’ ’bout maybe takin’ it off tonight. I don’t want my arm to get too stiff.” He was not too sure what Stone thought about the way his initial assignment played out. None of the five outlaws they were sent to arrest were alive to stand trial, and Stone’s best deputy was killed in the process. Will wasn’t sure how much Stone held him responsible and whether or not he still had a job.
“I reckon you know how your shoulder feels,” Stone said. “But make sure you don’t rush it.” Then he asked Will to again give him a detailed accounting of the attempted arrest and the actions that led to the killings. Will took him step by step from the stop at Lem Stark’s place in Tishomingo, to the final shoot-out with Eli Stark on the Poteau River. “Sorry piece of business,” Stone commented when Will was finished. “The lives of those five murderers wasn’t worth the loss of Fletcher Pride.”
“Yes, sir,” Will said. “I agree with you on that.” He watched Stone’s expressions intensely as the marshal seemed to be concentrating on the loss. Finally, Will had to ask, “Have I still got a job?”
Stone looked at him in surprise. “Hell, yes. Why would you think you didn’t?”
“Well, I wasn’t sure,” Will started. “I mean, the way the whole thing ended up. I thought you mighta thought there was more I could do to save Pride.”
“Was there?”
“No.”
“I believe you,” Stone said. “You did a helluva lot more than most men could have. You’ve still got a job, all right, and you’ve got some awful big shoes to fill, now that Pride’s gone under.”
“I wanna make a request, then,” Will said, greatly relieved. “Eli Stark is a wanted man. I wanna go after him.”
“You do, do ya,” Stone replied, smiling. “I’m not surprised. All right, you can go after him, but you need to wait till you’re all healed up. There’s no sense in going after a killer like Stark with just one good arm.”
“I heal pretty fast,” Will claimed. “I oughta be ready to ride in a day or so.”
Stone shook his head, impressed by his newest deputy’s impatience to venture into harm’s way again. “There’s some things we’ve got to go over. I don’t know how much Pride told you about the fee system. You already know about the six cents a mile you get paid for going to make an arrest, and the ten cents a mile for bringing a prisoner back. I’m gonna have to work on your payment, though, to see if we can fix it so we both get paid for all that work you did.” Since under the fee system, a deputy wasn’t paid anything if the suspect was killed, he was thinking he might have to be a little creative in his report. Otherwise, they were both out some money, because Stone took 25 percent of a deputy’s reimbursement for fees charged. As far as Will was concerned, he didn’t care about the money he lost because none of the outlaws were brought back for trial. He still had a little money, and he was going after Eli Stark for personal reasons. If Eli wanted to surrender, he would have to honor that, but he didn’t expect him to be so inclined.
The rest of the morning was spent on some rudimentary training for the new deputy, which didn’t take as long as Will had expected. “You go on back and take care of that shoulder,” Stone said when they were finished. “Stop by sometime tomorrow and we’ll see how you’re doing.” He got up from his desk and extended his hand. “Welcome back,” he said. Then as an afterthought, he asked, “You didn’t happen to bring Pride’s badge back, did you?”
“No, I didn’t,” Will said, then hesitated. “I thought it would be the right thing to bury it with him.” He figured it wasn’t really a lie, because he said he thought it would be right. He didn’t say that he did bury it.
“You’re right,” Stone said. “That was the right thing to do.”
* * *
“Am I too late to get something to eat?” Will asked when he walked in the parlor and saw Sophie coming from the dining room.
“No, you’re just not early enough to get a head start,” she joked. “You’d better hurry on in, though, while everything’s still hot.” She stopped him then for just a moment when she noticed a little sign of blood on the edge of his bandage. “After you eat, you’d better let me take a look at that wound.” He started to protest, but she shushed him, and ordered, “Go eat. When you’ve finished, we’ll go to the washroom and put a fresh bandage on it.”
He laughed and said, “Yes, Miss Bennett, whatever you say.”
Will sat down at the table beside Leonard Dickens, one of the residents whose name he knew. Leonard had not been to breakfast that morning, or supper the night before. So he was curious when he saw Will’s arm in a sling. “I heard you were back,” he said. “Looks like you got winged.”
“Part of the job, I reckon,” Will replied, not really wishing to discuss it, since he had already explained to everyone else that it was a gunshot wound.
“Did you give the other fellow as good as you got?” Leonard pressed.
“You could say that, I reckon,” Will said.
Ruth, recognizing Will’s reluctance to talk about something that was hardly suitable table talk, came to his rescue. “I expect Mr. Tanner would rather eat than talk, Mr. Dickens. He’s been away from good family fixings for a while.”
“I expect you’re right, ma’am,” Will said with a smile of appreciation.
When he had finished eating, he was met by Sophie in the parlor. She was holding his other shirt. “You’re not forgetting about your bandage, are you?” She held the shirt up for him to see where she had sewn a patch over the bullet hole in the shoulder. “I took the liberty of patching that hole for you.”
Surprised, he said, “You didn’t have to go to that trouble. I coulda just worn it like it was.” He reached out to take it.
“That’s what I figured,” she said, and held it away from him. “It needs to be washed. I’ll throw it in the wash, but I don’t know if I can get all the bloodstains out or not. Now, let’s get that shoulder taken care of.” She pointed toward the back door and the porch that led to the washroom.
“Do you take care of all your boarders like this?” he couldn’t resist asking.
“No, just the ones who need help really bad,” she answered in playful sarcasm, and pointed toward the door again. He did as he was ordered.
A witness to the exchange between the two young people, Ruth Bennett said nothing, but the forwardness of her daughter was enough to concern her. No one more than she knew the folly of becoming overly fond of a lawman in this ruthless territory. For her daughter’s sake, she hoped it was no more than a harmless flirtation. Will Tanner seemed like a nice, well-mannered young man, but as he had quoted Fletcher, Everybody has a number, and it was certain that deputies that worked in the Nations had smaller numbers than anyone else. Also of concern to her was the matter of income. Fletcher had told her that deputy marshals seldom earned over five hundred dollars a year, and she could not help comparing that to t
he income of someone like Garth Pearson, who would one day be an attorney. And Garth would be home for supper every night, she told herself.
Sophie followed Will into the washroom, holding his patched shirt as well as a clean cloth she planned to cut up for bandages. Directing him toward a chair near the stove, she placed his soiled shirt on a table by the door to be worked on later. Then she got a bucket of water from the pump and placed it on the stove to warm. While the water heated, she untied the sling and carefully pulled it off, then watched as he gingerly straightened his arm, testing the pain and mobility. “Not too bad,” he claimed, although grimacing with the discomfort.
“Let’s see if we can get that shirt off,” Sophie said, and started unbuttoning it.
“Wait,” Will said. “I can do it.” She stepped back and watched impatiently while he unbuttoned his shirt down to his belt. “Now, if you can take my sleeve and pull it off my shoulder, you oughta be able to get to the wound.”
Sophie laughed at his shyness, and after the shirt was pulled out of the way, she untied the bandages and inspected Dr. Peters’s work. “It looks all right, I think—a little red, but not too bad. Maybe you’re right about healing fast, but it’s gonna take some time yet. Your shirt might have gotten damaged worse than you did.” She moved his arm a little to the side and he flinched. “Still a little painful to move your arm, though. You’re gonna have to give it a few more days. I’ll clean off some of the dried blood and put a fresh bandage on it.” She took the bucket off the stove and cleaned around the wound, applied a fresh bandage, and retied his arm in the sling. When she was finished, she gave him a playful pat on top of his head and said, “Next!”
“How much I owe you, Doc?” he joked as he finished buttoning his shirt.
“Nothing for the doctoring,” she returned, “but a hundred dollars for stitching the shirt.” She laughed and added, “The washing’s free.”
“You did that like you’ve treated a lot of bullet wounds,” he said. “Have you done this before?”
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