Ben knew he might even start bawling himself if he didn’t leave. “I’m doing it out of consideration for you,” he flatly stated. After one more look, he quickly turned and walked away. After a minute he stopped and looked back. Arlena was back at the gate, her head down as she wept. He gazed at her, and when he spoke he did so in a tone so low that Arlena could never have heard him even if she’d been a lot closer. But he said the words he’d never said to another human being before in his whole life:
“I love you.”
The three mounted men came over the crest of the hill at the same moment he resumed his journey. The unexpected sight startled him, stirring up the feelings of anger and fear that had been dormant those past few weeks. Ben glanced wildly around, looking for someplace or something to help him get away.
But there was nothing.
They were lawmen, they were armed, and they had those guns trained on him. The middle man, wearing a sheriff’s badge, reined up. “Is your name Ben Cullen?”
Ben shook his head. “My name is John Smith.”
One of the deputies, the tallest, sneered at him. “The hell it is! We got a poster on you in Red Rock. You answer the description perfect, you little sawed-off runt.”
“Get your damn hands up!” the sheriff suddenly yelled as he realized that Ben was simply standing there. “Or you’re a dead man, Cullen. You won’t do to us like you done that marshal, I swear to God!”
Ben raised his hands and could hear Arlena, Jim, and Lucille rushing up to where they all stood. “What’s the matter, Sheriff?” Baldwin demanded.
“Is this the man that’s been working for you?” the sheriff asked.
“Sure,” Baldwin said. “And he’s a good worker too.”
“We heard about him from that farmer Loomis,” the lawman said. “He was visiting my deputy here and saw the poster on Cullen. He said he seen a man that looked like him during church services over here a couple o’ weeks back.”
Now Ben knew he should have left that same day. “His name is John Smith and I can vouch for his honesty,” Baldwin said.
“He’s a fine man,” Arlena insisted. “He come to us as an answer to our prayers.”
The sheriff was blunt. “His name is Ben Cullen and he’s wanted for murdering a deputy U.S. marshal over in Texas, and for killing a bank guard down in Hobart.” He glared a Ben. “Only God knows what other things he’s done and ain’t got caught at.”
Arlena’s voice trembled with anger. “John couldn’t have did things like that!”
The other deputy, who had said nothing, was more businesslike. He dismounted and came up behind Ben. He roughly pulled his hands down behind him and locked on a set of handcuffs. “You got a hell of a walk ahead o’ you, Cullen. All the way into Red Rock.”
“Wait!” Baldwin interrupted. “I’ll get my wagon and let him ride.”
“Are you crazy?” the sheriff asked. He motioned to his deputies. “Let’s get moving.”
A rope was placed around Ben’s neck and tied off to the tall deputy’s saddle horn. Humiliated and in bonds, he was led away in disgrace from the family—and the woman—he had learned to love.
~*~
The local lockup in Red Rock was crude and incredibly dirty. The poor ventilation made the cells sweltering sweatboxes. This particular discomfort brought back memories of Leavenworth to Ben. As he sat on the bunk, he could remember the thirst and sweat in the cells there on hot summer evenings after spending the days laboring in the hell of the coal mine.
He had been locked up there for three days waiting for the deputy marshals from Guthrie to come over and pick him up. The sheriff hadn’t fed him until the second evening, and all he’d had that third day was a cup of water.
The door to the cell block opened and the taller deputy stepped inside. His name was Denton and he did nothing to hide his hatred of Ben. He grinned. “I was just checking up on you.”
“I ain’t gone no place,” Ben said.
“Well, now, don’t you worry none about that if you still got a hankering to travel,” Denton said. “You’ll be heading over to the territorial prison to get hung. You’ll get a trial first in Guthrie, o’ course. But the end result is as good as decided. You don’t shoot down two good men and get away with it, Cullen.”
Ben realized that the lawman wasn’t aware that one of the men he was charged with killing had died from a knife wound. And that same knife still rested in the sheath on his back. The small-town sheriff had not searched him beyond his pockets.
Denton leaned against the wall. “I wonder what it’s like to be hung, Cullen.” He cackled loudly. “They say your neck just breaks”—he snapped his fingers—”like that. But I bet you feel it.”
“Could be,” Cullen said. “When you get down to hell, look me up and I’ll let you know.”
“I’ll sure do that,” Denton said.
“And you can tell me how it felt to die from being so damned stupid.”
Denton’s temper snapped. “You want me to come in that cell and stomp you good?”
That was exactly what Ben wanted him to do. The knife was ready and all he’d have to do would be to grab it and flick the blade into Denton’s body. But, unless the cell door was opened, it would do him no good. Ben poised himself on the edge of the bunk. “You couldn’t whip me, Denton. Not on your best day.”
“You little sonofabitch! If it weren’t for getting in dutch with the sheriff, I’d teach you a good lesson before they hung you.”
“C’mon, Denton. Just try it.” Ben stood up.
“You shitass,” Denton said. He went back to the cellblock door and opened it, then glanced back at the prisoner. “Looks like you got visitors, Cullen. That dirt farmer pal o’ your’n and them women has just stopped outside.”
He went to the outer office. Ben could hear the sound of voices and recognized Jim Baldwin’s, Lucille’s and Arlena’s. He hoped the deputy would come get him, but the door opened again and the family came into the cell area.
“Whew! It’s sure close in here,” Baldwin said. “Howdy, John.”
“My name is Ben,” he replied. “Ben Cullen.”
Lucille smiled. “It seems funny to call you that after all the weeks you was John’ to us.”
Ben took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I lied to you about that. And I gotta tell you too. I’m wanted for murder like the sheriff said. And I—”
“Shush!” Arlena said. “Just shush. You don’t have to say nothing or explain nothing.”
Baldwin nodded his agreement. “She’s right. All this is part o’ the Lord’s work.”
Arlena stepped forward and smiled fondly at him. “I brung you a basket.”
Denton, who had been standing behind them, pushed through and took the food from the woman. “Pris’ners ain’t allowed gifts,” he said, “’specially murdering little runts.”
Baldwin’s voice was calm, but his eyes betrayed his anger. “I’ll thank you, please, not to insult our friend. He’s already locked up, what more do you want to do to him?”
“How about hanging him?” Denton said. “I’ll take the basket outside and you can have it back when you leave.”
Arlena walked to the bars. “We prayed for you last night, John—I mean, Ben.”
“I ain’t worth it,” Ben said.
“Yes! Yes, you are,” Baldwin said. “You’re on your way to a new beginning, Ben.”
“I’m on my way to get hung,” Ben said.
“No,” Lucille said, “Jim sat up all last night and listened to the Lord. He can do that, Ben. He’s had the Call.”
“The Lord has forgive you, Ben,” Baldwin said. “That’s why He sent you to us. It was His way of having you start over. We know you’re a good man, Ben, we seen you what you are inside while we was living with you.”
Ben was more pragmatic about the situation. “If God wanted me to start over, how come he sent them lawmen after him? Or should I say, how come he let the jasper named Loomis tell the law where I was?”
“I don’t know,” Baldwin said. “The Lord does things in a way that us poor ol’ mortal men can never understand. But, listen to me, Ben. You ain’t gonna be hung.”
Arlena’s face radiated. “The Lord has let him know that. You’ll be coming home soon.”
“The Lord told you I was getting loose?” Ben asked.
“We told you before,” Arlena said. “Jim’s had the Call.”
Baldwin smiled. “It ain’t like when you and me talk, Ben. God revealed it to me while I was reading my Bible and trying to figger all this out.”
“I hope you’re right,” Ben said.
“Ben, I know you ain’t a real religious man,” Baldwin said. “But would you pray with us?”
“Please!” Arlena begged.
“Sure,” Ben said.
“Let’s join hands,” Baldwin said.
Arlena reached through the cell and grabbed Ben’s hand. Her touch was comforting to him. He reached out with his other and grasped Lucille’s. Baldwin stood between the two women. The small group of people bowed their heads.
“Lord,” Baldwin began, “your servant Ben is here in jail now. That’s what you wanted, though we can’t figure out why. We all believe in you, Lord, and I know that Ben is coming to Christ soon now. We’ll bide our time and wait for your Word. But, God, could we ask you hurry things up a little? Forgive our impatience, it’s just that we learned to love ol’ Ben so much. In Christ’s name we pray. Amen.”
“Amen.”
“I feel so much better now,” Lucille said.
“Oh, and I do too,” Arlena said smiling. She gazed into Ben’s eyes. “What about you, Ben?”
He forced a weak smile. “I feel fine.”
“There’s one thing you gotta do, though,” Baldwin said. “I know it’s necessary before the Lord will move on with whatever he’s got planned for you, Ben.”
“What’s that?” Ben asked.
“You got to forgive Brother Loomis for turning you in,” Baldwin said.
Ben shrugged. “Sure.”
“Say it, Ben! Say it!” Baldwin urged him.
“I forgive ol’ Loomis for turning me in,” Ben said. He really didn’t much care about Loomis one way or the other. When things bad happened, they just happened as far as Ben was concerned. There was no sense in carrying a grudge.
“Do you mean it in your heart?” Baldwin asked. Ben nodded. “Yeah.”
“Praise the Lord!” Arlena exclaimed, clasping her hands together.
“Glory!” Baldwin said. “Glory to God on the highest!”
Denton stepped back into the cellblock. “Time’s up. Let’s go.”
“Couldn’t we stay longer?” Baldwin asked.
“Yes,” Arlena begged. “We come so far.”
“Can’t do it,” Denton said with a tone of finality. “The sheriff’s rules is got to be obeyed.”
“We’ll pray for you, Ben,” Baldwin said. “And you’ll be delivered soon.”
Denton smirked. “He’ll be delivered, all right. Straight to the hangman at the territorial prison.”
“Obliged for your visit,” Ben said. “It was truly nice.”
“Goodbye, Ben,” Arlena said. “We’ll see you soon.” Ben leaned against the bars and waved at her. Everyone left and the door closed, leaving him alone. Ben walked back to the bunk and sat down again.
He was happy that he had done nothing wrong to the Baldwin family.
~*~
Dusk was gathering and the shadows across the cell floor lengthened as Ben lethargically watched their slow progress. He was hungry, but that was nothing new to him. He’d learned to endure it long ago. Being hungry was part of his life, like cold in the winter and heat in the summer.
The door opened and both the sheriff and Denton appeared. The deputy had a tray with him. “We got to feed you, Cullen,” he said. “I’d feel real bad if you starved to death before you got to your necktie party.”
“Stay there on the bunk,” the sheriff warned him as he approached the cell door. He stuck the large key in the lock and pushed it open. “C’mon, Denton. Don’t stand there all night.”
“Sure,” Denton said. He walked into the cell and set the tray on the bunk. “Eat hearty, Cullen.”
The sheriff was now in the cell too, his pistol drawn. “I hear you’re a real sneaky sonofabitch, Cullen.”
Ben ignored the insult. “Can I see what you brung me?”
“Sure,” Denton said. “But I still say it’s a hell of a thing for the town to have to feed a shitass like you.” Ben leaned forward and reached out with his left hand. He grabbed the cloth and shook it. The motion caused the exact effect he was after. The two lawmen’s eyes went instinctively to the movement. Ben’s right hand whipped around and came out with the knife. The blade turned one quick flip before burying itself into the sheriff’s belly.
He dropped his pistol and stared down at the thing sticking in him. Ben was across the room and grabbing the handle before Denton could react. The outlaw pulled the knife out and continued the motion, feeling the weapon cut deep into the deputy as he whipped it across his chest.
“Ow! You cut me!” Denton yelped.
The next attack drove the blade under the rib cage and up into vital organs. Ben twisted the knife viciously before he withdrew it.
Denton’s face went white and he staggered forward, tripping over the sheriff who was now sitting down. Ben bent down to finish them off, but saw they were already dead. He walked out of the cellblock and into the office. No lanterns had been lit yet, so anyone passing outside would see nothing from any casual glances inside.
Ben went to the gunrack on the wall and selected a Winchester rifle. He found an almost-new Colt Peacemaker revolver complete with holster in a drawer full of ammunition. He stuffed his pockets with extra rounds and made sure the Winchester was fully loaded. His bundle of clothing was laying in one corner of the office. Ben picked it up and slung it over his shoulder.
A look outside informed him that darkness had descended on Red Rock. There were no street lights, only the glare from businesses and saloons that were open. He would like to have waited until it was late to make his move, but there was too much of a chance for someone to come visiting the jail.
Ben stepped quickly through the door to the boardwalk outside. He stuck to the shadows as he worked his way down the street. A couple of noisy cowboys came riding around a corner. They brandished bottles while swaying in their saddles. The two didn’t go far. Their destination was the nearest saloon, and they reined up in front tying their horses to the hitching rail before staggering inside.
Ben waited a few minutes, then boldly stepped out on the boardwalk. He walked toward the horses in an easy manner, whistling softly to himself as a man might who is about to mount his own horse and ride home.
He leisurely untied one of the drunks’ mounts and led it off at a slow walk. Finally he slipped his foot in the stirrup and swung up in the saddle. A group of men had gathered around a large wagon down at the edge of town. Ben pulled his hat down over his eyes and rode past them, hearing them talk among themselves. They were a bunch of farmers organizing a fence-building project.
Ben had just reached the edge of town when two riders appeared out of the gloom on the prairie. They showed strong evidence of having been on a long journey. Their horses were fatigued and trail dust was heavy on their clothing. Ben nodded politely to them as they passed.
“Howdy.”
“Howdy,” one replied. “Is the jail on the main street?”
Ben caught sight of the flicker of a badge under the man’s vest. These would be the U.S. marshals sent out to pick him up. He had to delay them. “Nope,” he lied. “You’ll find it over on the south side. Ride behind them buildings there and circle around.”
The lawman cursed under his breath. “You mean way over there on the far edge of town?”
“That’s where it is,” Ben said.
“Hell of a dumbass place to put the local lockup,” the man co
mplained.
“Thanks, mister,” his pard said.
“You bet.” Ben continued on, and when the time was right he flicked the reins across the horse’s shoulders and urged the animal into a gallop. The old thrill welled up in his emotions once more.
The run was on again.
Chapter Eleven
Ben kept the horse’s gait at a fast pace for two hours after leaving Red Rock. He would have liked to maintain his speed, but gathering clouds began to obscure the moonlight. This made galloping extremely dangerous. Such things as prairie-dog holes waited for a careless rider. A running horse was sure to break a leg in one of the rodents’ burrows.
They slowed to a walk, but from the animal’s impatient snorting, Ben knew he really wanted to cut loose and run. He had to keep pulling in on the reins, and the outlaw knew he had made the best choice of the two available mounts when he’d gotten this one.
Ben finally decided to take a rest after dawn. He glanced around in the growing light to check for any signs of pursuit. When he was satisfied there was none, Ben rode down into a small, wooded ravine and hid himself in the trees there. He would take an hour or so of napping, then resume the trip toward the Kansas line at a cautious pace.
He hobbled the horse, and removed the saddle. He set it on the ground, arranging his other gear around it for a quick getaway if necessary. His new mount whinnied softly, and Ben patted his muzzle. “You like to run, don’t you, pal?” he said fondly. “Well, you and me got the same idea of having fun, then—’cause, by God, we’re gonna run from here clear up to Wichita.” He pushed the animal toward an open space in the trees. “Eat some o’ that sweet grass, pal. I promise I’ll get you a good feed of oats up there in Kansas before I jump aboard that train for Chicago.”
Ben went over to a nearby tree and sat down at its base. The time in the jail at Red Rock had been unsettling and unpleasant. The deputy’s constant jibes and insults had kept Ben’s nerves on edge. Between that and desperate thoughts of escape, his mind had been fully occupied. But here in this peaceful setting, alone and more relaxed, Ben’s thoughts mellowed somewhat.
He remembered his room in the barn on the Baldwin farm. It would have been so nice to be able to rest there at that moment. It was dark and cool there even on a hot day. Then there was always the good, plentiful food in the kitchen. Ben had to admit to himself that those few short weeks had been among the best—if not the best—in his life.
Desperado Run (An Indian Territory Western Book 2) Page 12