The Devil's Posse

by Charles G. West

  “Boy, ol’ Quincy is turnin’ it on for that young one,” Wormy remarked aside to Stokes as he watched Quincy approaching. “I’ll bet he’ll bed that one down before long.”

  “He might at that,” Stokes said as Quincy pulled a chair out and sat down. “Looks like you’ve got your brand on that pretty one,” he said to Quincy. “That just leaves that older one for the rest of us, but she looks like she might buck a little.” He and Wormy laughed.

  “Don’t forget that’un in the kitchen,” Lacey said.

  Neither Quincy nor Lonnie joined in the laughter. The remarks brought an immediate response from Quincy. His heavy dark eyebrows dipped in a deep frown as he laid down his rules once more.

  “I told you to keep your mouths shut in this dinin’ room. If you want a roll in the hay with a woman, there’s a couple at the saloon that’ll take you on. We’ve got to keep these folks here thinkin’ we’re respectable lawmen.”

  “We know that, Quincy,” Stokes was quick to assure him. “We was just japin’ a little bit. Hell, we’ll behave like deacons in a church when we’re around here.”

  Unless one of those women is partial to an outlaw, he said to himself. He looked at Quincy and smiled.

  “We’ve got us a good spot here,” Quincy said. “I ain’t plannin’ on messin’ it up just because you boys are gettin’ rutty. Damn it, that’s what they made whores for.”

  His scowl was quickly replaced with a smile when Hannah and Mae came from the kitchen with food for the table. The whores at the saloon were not good enough for him, he thought as he watched Hannah placing a couple of bowls down before him.

  I’m aiming to get a hell of a lot more from you than potatoes and beans, he thought. Hannah met his gaze with a smile. Might not be as hard as I thought.

  * * *

  That evening, when supper was finished and the kitchen was cleaned up, Hannah stepped out on the front porch to get a breath of the cold evening air after helping Daisy clean up around a hot kitchen stove. She had taken no more than a couple of deep breaths when she was aware of someone coming up behind her. She turned to find Quincy only a few steps away.

  “Oh,” she exclaimed, startled.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to surprise you. I was just takin’ the air myself.” He slipped out of his coat and placed it around her shoulders before she had a chance to protest. “You’ll catch a chill for yourself out here in this cold air, a lady as dainty as you.”

  “Oh, why, thank you, sir,” she said, not certain how she should respond. “That’s very considerate of you, but I was not really that cold.” She took the coat off and gave it back to him. “I was kinda enjoying the cold. I have to hurry back to help Mae and Daisy finish the cleanup anyway.”

  “I’m sorry you have to run off so soon,” he said. “I’d surely admire visitin’ with you for a while.”

  “Well, perhaps some other time,” she said, and turned to leave.

  “I hope I haven’t offended you, ma’am. My intentions are purely honorable, I assure you. But you can’t blame me for wantin’ to know you better.” He stepped quickly to the door and opened it for her. She nodded and gave him a smile before stepping inside.

  Play your woman’s game, he thought confidently, and when you’re done, you’ll come around.

  Inside, she hoped the flush she was feeling had not been evident to him. She was not sure what she should think about the brief encounter on the porch. He was obviously interested in more than a casual conversation, and she was taken by surprise.

  At once she felt ashamed of herself for being flattered that the marshal was paying her such attention. But at the same time, she could not help thinking that it was all right to enjoy his company, even if it was so soon after Jack had been killed. She loved her husband, and would always be true to his memory, but he had left her alone to go on with life as it was presented to her.

  Damn it, she thought. He is rather handsome.

  * * *

  “Whoa! Look out where you’re about to throw that water,” Riley Stokes sang out, effectively startling the young woman with the dishpan full of dirty dishwater.

  “Well, what in the world are you doing outside the kitchen door, anyway?” Daisy Welker exclaimed, still trying to keep from spilling the water on herself after she had come so close to letting it fly.

  “I was just using the outhouse,” Stokes said. “I didn’t think I was gonna get a bath on my way back.” He gave her a lecherous grin. “Course, if you was wantin’ to give me a bath, I might consider lettin’ you.”

  “Oh, you would, would you?” Daisy replied, well aware of his intentions. “What are you doing coming around to the kitchen door, anyway? Our guests use the front door. It’s closer to the privy.”

  “Maybe I was just hopin’ I’d run into you,” Stokes said. “I saw you throwin’ the dishwater out last evenin’, so I figured you’d appreciate a little help. It looks like a pretty heavy dishpan.”

  “Is that so? Well, I’m a pretty strong woman, so I don’t need no help.”

  “I figured that, too,” he went on, undeterred. “I heard tell you was a widow, and that’s my specialty, takin’ care of poor women that’s been without their husband for a spell. In some parts they call me the widow pleaser.”

  “Ha!” she blurted. “You’re talkin’ to the wrong widow. Didn’t anybody tell you that the reason I’m a widow is because I shot that no-account I was married to?”

  Stokes threw his head back and laughed. “Is that a fact? Now I know me and you could help each other out. Why don’t I slip up to your room after a while for a friendly visit?”

  “Well, one reason I can think of is, if you were to happen to show up at my door, you’d most likely get a load of buckshot from the same gun I shot my husband with,” she said. “There’s women up at the saloon to take care of men like you, so why don’t you go up there?”

  “Men like me?” he responded, offended. “Whaddaya mean by that? I was just tryin’ to be friendly. Maybe you’re just a stuck-up bitch who thinks you’re too good for fellers that work for a livin’. Well, honey, you ain’t the prettiest flower in the bunch.”

  “I ain’t the most desperate, neither,” she replied, well aware that what he said was true, but not particularly worried about it. She was long past any desire to couple with a man, just for the sake of coupling. “Now, I’ve got work to do, so if you keep standing where you are, you’re liable to get hit with some of this dishwater.” She drew it back as if about to throw it.

  He backed away a couple of steps. “I was just tryin’ to be polite. I sure as hell ain’t interested in no scrawny-lookin’ woman like you. There’s better-lookin’ ones up at the saloon.”

  “Well, go to it, Romeo. Maybe you can find one drunk enough to take you on.” She let the dishwater fly. He jumped aside in time to avoid it, but just barely. Some splashed on his boots.

  “Why, you ornery bitch,” he fumed. “I’ve a good mind to jerk you off that porch and whup you good.”

  “If you had a good mind, you woulda had better sense than to waste your time makin’ a pest outta yourself.” She spun on her heel and went in the door, slamming it behind her.

  “Damn bitch,” Stokes smoldered.

  “By God, that was real smooth.”

  He turned to see Wormy leaning against the back corner of the building, laughing at him. “I always wanted to see one of the real smooth talkers in action,” the little man teased. “I swear, that woman’s liable to be chasin’ after you to marry her.”

  “You go to hell,” Stokes replied angrily.

  Wormy stopped laughing and turned serious for a moment. “You’d best not let Quincy or Lonnie find out you’ve been sniffin’ around that woman. You know what he said about behavin’ ourselves around here.”

  “To hell with that, too,” Stokes said. “It looks like it’s a
ll right for him to keep sniffin’ around that other woman. He ain’t got no right to tell us not to talk to them.”

  Deadly serious now, Wormy said, “It ain’t no question about him havin’ the right or not. You oughta know it don’t take much to send him into one of those fits that strike him.”

  Stokes was fully aware of what that might result in, and he was not angry enough to risk that possibility.

  “Well, he don’t need to know about it. That woman’s too scrawny for my taste, anyway.”

  Even though he could not disagree with what Wormy said, he was still irritated by the double set of rules that Quincy laid down. Besides, in spite of having been thoroughly rebuked by Daisy, he was now more determined than ever to bed her down.

  Before this is over, he silently promised himself.

  Chapter 11

  The lone rider reined his gray gelding to a stop and sat gazing at the little collection of buildings a quarter of a mile distant at the foot of the mountain behind them. Spearfish looked small and vulnerable, even more so than on the first day he had seen it. That day, it had been a welcome sight after following Spearfish Canyon to its mouth. Now there was a cloud of uncertainty hovering over him.

  How would they receive him after thinking him a fugitive from the law, a murderer no less? Would they believe him when he explained the circumstances that had compelled him to kill?

  He continued to sit there staring at the town, trying to decide if he should bypass it and go directly to the Triple-T as he had originally planned to do. But he felt it important to see that Hannah found out the truth, certainly as much as the crew at the Triple-T. Maybe it was more important, although he could not explain why.

  Finally he justified his decision by thinking, I haven’t had a good meal in a while, and it’s about suppertime at the Three Widows. He nudged Pepper and continued on toward the town.

  He walked his horse slowly down the muddy street past the dry goods store and the blacksmith. As he passed the Gateway Saloon, a slight man wearing a heavy woolen coat and a black hat with a flat crown and a narrow brim stepped out the door and stood watching him for a few moments. Past the stables, Logan pulled Pepper up before the boardinghouse. He smiled when he noted that there was no sign up proclaiming it to be the Three Widows Inn yet. As a manner of habit, he drew his rifle from the saddle sling and stepped down from the saddle. Casually looping Pepper’s reins over the hitching rail, he walked in the front door.

  She was standing in the parlor, her back turned to him, putting a stack of folded napkins in a cupboard next to the dining room door. “Pardon me, miss, can a fellow get somethin’ to eat in this establishment?” he asked.

  Unhurried, she turned to face him. She appeared startled when she saw him standing there; her eyes grew wide with shock. “Logan!” she exclaimed in distress. “What are you doing here?” Before he could answer, she said, “You can’t be here!”

  Surprised by her frantic reaction to his appearance, he started to explain why he had come, but was stunned himself when Tom Lacey came out of the dining room, working away at his teeth with a toothpick. Without hesitation, Lacey grabbed for the .44 he wore on his hip. In the excitement of the moment, however, he fumbled with it, getting it halfway out of his holster before Logan reacted, cocking the Winchester and cutting him down. Hannah screamed, terrified. There had been no time to think; he had simply reacted. Now he stood there, dumbfounded, not certain what to do.

  In the next second, Hannah regained her senses and exclaimed, “You’ve got to get out of here! The marshal and his men are here!”

  “I didn’t . . . ,” he started, still confused. “I just came to tell you—”

  “Get out of here!” she screamed. “They’ll kill you!”

  He realized then what he had unexpectedly walked into. He had given no thought to the possibility that the men who had been stalking him could be in Spearfish. There was no time now to think about it, so he ran out the door, freed Pepper’s reins, and was off at a gallop out the end of the street and onto the open prairie. Unless they made a move on him, he could not recognize any of the others in the posse apart from any ordinary citizen of the town. So it made no sense to do anything other than run.

  Behind him, he left a town startled by the sudden killing of one of the marshal’s men, blatantly, while most of the posse were right there in the same building. Wormy Jacobs came running from the saloon when he heard the shot, just in time to see Logan gallop out across the snowy plain. He was too far away at that point for Wormy to even attempt a shot with his pistol. He ran into the boardinghouse and found the rest of the posse gathered around Lacey, who was fading rapidly.

  “I saw him when he rode by the saloon!” Wormy blurted. “I coulda blowed him right outta the saddle if I hadda knowed it was him. Damn, I wish I’da remembered what Lacey said about that horse he rides. ’Cause he was settin’ up there on a flea-bitten gray horse, just big as you please. But I never thought about it.” When he saw that it was Lacey who had been shot, he asked, “How bad is he hurt?”

  “He’s done for,” Lonnie said.

  “Did you say you got a good look at him?” Quincy wanted to know. When Wormy said that he had, Quincy said, “Good, then you’ll know him when you see him again, right? Even if he ain’t on that gray horse.” He stepped back, no longer concerned with Lacey’s fate, while the three women tried their best to tend to the wounded man. Hannah gave Mae a look of disbelief when Quincy showed no compassion for the loss of one of his men, especially when overhearing parts of the conversation between him and Lonnie.

  “Well, who’da thought it?” Quincy said. “The man we searched for all over those mountains came right to us, and we’ve still got a man who can identify him. That’s like a great big Christmas present, and it ain’t even Christmas yet. We need to get the horses and get after him while there’s a nice fresh trail in the snow.”

  Daisy could not help commenting, “One of your men is dying and we can’t do anything to save him. You don’t seem to care a helluva lot.”

  Realizing that she had heard what he had said, he tried to repair the damage. “You don’t understand, lady. Of course I care, but this is a hard business tryin’ to uphold the law. This murderin’ skunk has killed two of my men, but we can’t let ourselves get to grievin’ about it too much, or we won’t be able to do our job. The only thing we can do for Lacey now is to go after his killer and bring him to justice. I’m just sorry he had to come to do his murderin’ in your house.” He turned to Lonnie then and said, “Come on, boys, we’ve got to get our horses saddled and get after that killer. We’ll be doin’ it for Curly and Lacey. We owe it to both of ’em.”

  “Yeah,” Wormy said, “poor ol’ Curly, he always was kinda snakebit when the lead was flyin’.” His comment caused Stokes to laugh.

  Puzzled as to why the comment made Stokes laugh, Mae asked, “What about this one?” She looked to Quincy for an answer as she pressed firmly on Lacey’s chest in an attempt to slow the bleeding.

  “I leave him in your good hands,” Quincy answered, “while we do the only thing we can to avenge him. I hope you and the other two ladies understand that we have to be tough, or the outlaws will take over this territory like they did in Oklahoma Injun Territory.” They hurried out the door and ran to get their horses from the stable. “Maybe we’ll get lucky this time,” he said to Hannah as he went out the door.

  “You try to hang on there, feller,” Mae said as she tightened up on a piece of an old bedsheet she had used to bind Lacey’s chest. “Get that other pillow off the settee, Daisy, and stick it under his head.”

  Daisy hurried to do her bidding, both women knowing that it was a useless endeavor, but trying to do everything they could to make his passing more comfortable. No matter what they did, he seemed to be suffering extreme pain. In a few minutes after his comrades had gone out the door, he opened his eyes halfway, his lips parted, an
d he spoke.

  “Damn that son of a bitchin’ skunk.” Then his last breath rushed out of his lungs and he was gone.

  Mae and Hannah looked at each other with puzzled expressions. “Those are mighty dignified last words, ain’t they?” Mae said facetiously.

  “Ha!” Daisy snorted, trying to keep from laughing.

  The small crowd of spectators that had gathered after hearing the gunshot parted to let Marvin Patterson and his son, Marvin Jr., into the room. Marvin was the barber, dentist, and undertaker. He and his son picked Lacey up and carried him out the door.

  “I’ll go fetch a bucket of water and a mop,” Daisy volunteered. “But I don’t know if we’ll get all that blood up before it stains those boards for good.”

  Now that the immediate shock was over, Hannah looked at Mae and remarked, “I still can’t believe I misjudged Logan Cross that much. I mean, he was nothing like the coldhearted killer he turned out to be when he brought me here. To find out that he is so evil as to come here to murder the marshal’s men, instead of running away, is just hard to believe.”

  “I thought you said he was surprised when Lacey walked in,” Daisy said. “He might notta come here to kill anybody.” She raised an eyebrow and said, “Maybe he just came here to see you.”

  “Well, it did look like he didn’t expect him,” Hannah admitted, “but he still came here where they were. Why would he come here, if not to kill them?”

  “Well, if he did, he ain’t too overly bright,” Daisy said, “seein’ as how he was goin’ up against five lawmen. I think it’s more likely he didn’t have any idea they were here.”

  “I don’t know what to think,” Hannah replied. “But I do know that Logan came here and killed a lawman. And I’m sorely disappointed in him for that.”