The Devil's Posse

by Charles G. West

The sudden frown that wrinkled Logan’s forehead when Hannah’s injury was mentioned did not go unnoticed by Jace. He knew it provided another reason for the determined young man to go after Quincy Morgan, but he didn’t say anything.

  “What is it you wanted to talk about?” Logan finally asked when it appeared that Jace was content to merely take his ease in the warm dining room. But Mae appeared at that moment with two large mugs of fresh coffee and a plate of biscuits that had been warming in the oven while the coffee perked.

  “I wish ol’ Spud, back at the Triple-T, could make coffee that tastes as good as this,” Jace said, after a sip of the hot liquid, still making small talk. “Nobody makes a better cup of coffee,” he said, smiling at Mae, who answered with a smile of her own.

  When Mae returned to her chores, Logan pressed, “I know you’ve got somethin’ on your mind besides havin’ a nice cup of coffee. What is it?”

  “Yeah, we might as well get right to it,” Jace responded. “You figurin’ on goin’ after Quincy Morgan right away?”

  “I told you that,” Logan replied.

  “Yeah, but that’s the thing,” Jace said, trying to find the right words. “What’s the use of goin’ after those two saddle tramps? Ain’t you killed enough men to make up for all they’ve done to you? It’s over and done. Those two have hightailed it outta here. They ain’t comin’ back. They’d be crazy to, after the trick they pulled on the whole town.” He paused to study Logan’s reaction to what he was saying, but his words appeared to have no effect upon the determined young man. He continued to try to reason with him. “From what you told me, Quincy’s brother, Jake, and two other men, shot your brother. You killed all three of them, right?” He paused but Logan did not reply. “And then, when Quincy and Lonnie came after you, you gunned down their whole damn gang. Now they’ve had enough, and they’ve been run off for good.” He paused again. “Logan, you’ve avenged your brother. Everything else is just senseless killin’.” He was interrupted then when Daisy brought the coffeepot out to refill their cups.

  Logan took that moment to think about what he had said, but he was still not convinced Jace was right. “I don’t know,” he finally said. “It’s just that somebody oughta stop those two from doin’ any more harm.”

  “Maybe so,” Jace replied. “Maybe somebody should, and maybe they will . . . but it don’t have to be you. What if you catch up with ’em, and you come out on top? Sooner or later, the word’s gonna get out that Logan Cross killed Quincy and Lonnie Morgan, and the whole damn Morgan Gang, to boot. Then, my young friend, you ain’t gonna be able to go anywhere without makin’ sure your back’s to a wall, lest some gunman out to make a name for himself takes a shot at you. Is that what you want?”

  “Damn, Jace.” Logan hesitated. “I don’t know. I don’t reckon anybody wants a life like that.”

  “Well, that’s what it would be. I’m tryin’ to tell you there’s a place for you on the Triple-T. In the short time you were with us, every man you’ve worked with says you know workin’ cattle inside and out. I’d like to see you stay on with us and help Mr. Towson and me build this ranch into the biggest in the territory. Whaddaya say?” When Logan seemed to weaken for a moment, Jace joked, “Hell, even Ox has taken to you like a brother, and Ox don’t like nobody.” He studied Logan’s face intently. “Whaddaya say? To hell with those two bastards. We’ve got work to do on the Triple-T.”

  Daisy, who had managed to stay close enough to overhear most of their conversation, came by one more time with the coffeepot. “Listen to what Jace says. You’re a damn fool if you don’t,” she offered to their surprise. She filled their cups and walked away without saying more.

  Their advice only served to make him unsure. What Jace said was true, he had killed those who had taken Billy’s life. But Quincy Morgan had caused him a great deal of trouble and turned a whole town against him, with his charade.

  More than that, however, he and his men had hunted him with the intention of executing him. How could he not seek vengeance? If he listened to Jace’s advice, he could forsake the constant hunt, and the ever-present danger of being ambushed, and go back to working cattle. But how could he be sure that Quincy was done with it?

  I can’t, he decided, but I don’t want to spend my life with a target on my back, like Jace said. He looked up from his coffee cup to meet Jace’s gaze. “I reckon I’m ready to go back to work,” he said, “if you meant what you said about havin’ a job.”

  Jace nodded, pleased. “You’re makin’ the right decision,” he said. “You can ride back with the rest of the boys tonight, if your head’s feelin’ all right. Or wait till mornin’, and come on when you’re ready.”

  Logan thought about it for a moment. His head still felt as if it were splitting open with the headache from the two solid blows to his skull. And the thought of a seven-mile ride didn’t appeal to him at all. “If it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll wait till mornin’—see if I can get rid of this damn throbbin’ in my head. Mae offered me a room, so I think I’ll take it.”

  “Not a bad idea,” Jace said. “It’s settled, then.” He got up from the table. “I’d best go get the boys before they get so drunk they’ll have to stay here with you tonight.” He started for the door. “How much do I owe you, Mae?” he asked when she came out of the kitchen.

  “Nothin’,” she said. “It’s on the house.”

  “Thank you kindly,” Jace said, and continued toward the door, calling back over his shoulder to Logan, “Don’t go changin’ your mind, or I’ll have to send Ox after you.”

  After Jace had gone, Mae came over to the table. “You want some more coffee?”

  “No, ma’am, I reckon I’ve already drank a gracious plenty.”

  “Like I told you, you’re welcome to stay here tonight,” she said. “Whichever room you want, one or two, they’re pretty much the same. But let me know which one, so Daisy can change the sheets on the bed.”

  “I’ll just take number one, I guess, and I sure do appreciate it, but you don’t have to go to any trouble about changin’ the sheets—couldn’t be much worse than sleepin’ in the stable with my horse.”

  “I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” Mae said. “We’d best change them. We’re gonna have to fix some kind of supper, even after all the excitement we’ve had today. It’ll be something quick and simple, so if you’re hungry, we’ll have it ready in about an hour.”

  “I probably will be by then,” he said. “I wouldn’t pass it up, even if I wasn’t hungry.” He got to his feet. “I’ll go on over to the stable and get my saddlebags.”

  * * *

  Already feeling somewhat more steady on his feet, Logan walked into the stable, startling Sam Taylor. “Logan!” Sam exclaimed. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “Didn’t mean to scare you,” Logan said. “I just came to pick up my saddlebags. I’m gonna leave my horses here tonight.”

  “Sure thing, Logan,” Sam replied quickly, “and there won’t be no charge.”

  “Why, that’s mighty neighborly of you, but if this is about that knot you put on my head, you’ve already apologized, and it’s over and done, as far as I’m concerned.”

  “That’s mighty Christian of you, Logan. I can’t tell you how sorry I am for bein’ such a gullible jackass, but he had everybody fooled.”

  “Forget about it,” Logan said. “I’m surprised you ain’t come after me to pay for that rifle stock I broke. We’ll call it even.”

  Sam’s second apology was one of several from other citizens of the town, who had bought Quincy Morgan’s story. Fred Ramsey came by when Logan was at the supper table to say he was sorry to have believed the accusations made by Quincy and Lonnie. Cecil Grant sent an apology as well, saying he couldn’t tell him in person, because he had to tend bar at the saloon. Logan appreciated their concern, but it was beginning to make him feel uncomfortable, and he won
dered if he’d made a mistake in remaining in town for the night.

  One person who felt especially guilty was Hannah, for she had spent more time alone with Logan Cross than anyone else. She should have known the man was honorable, yet she had allowed herself to be taken in by the handsome image of a U.S. Marshal. She was thoroughly ashamed of her treatment of Logan when he tried to tell her the truth. In her defense, she told herself that Mae was equally taken in by the ruse. The only person who was not convinced was Daisy. She somehow had seen through the slick image that Quincy Morgan had painted. But Daisy was always cynical about most things, so it was not so unusual that she had not fallen in line with everyone else in the small settlement.

  Anxious to get away from the apologetic citizens of the town, Logan headed out early the next morning to return to the Triple-T, leaving Hannah disappointed that he had not even waited to have breakfast in the dining room.

  * * *

  The next few days that followed the exodus of Quincy and Lonnie Morgan from the town of Spearfish were a period of much-needed relief for Logan Cross. Back into the business of winter chores on a cattle ranch, he found that he was rapidly settling again into a satisfying role as a cowhand. Concerning himself with nothing more than finding strays and protecting the cattle from predators, he felt as though he was at home again.

  He was not overly surprised to find that he was most often paired with Ox Russell when riding the perimeter. The oversized man had somehow been transformed into a gentle giant. Bob Whitley was of the opinion that Ox felt a responsibility for his safety, because Logan had told him that he had saved his life by catching him at the attempted hanging.

  Whatever the reason, Logan didn’t mind having the simple man as his constant companion. Ox didn’t talk much, and he didn’t require anything in return. Logan didn’t give it much thought, but if he had, he would have realized that he was enjoying the first peaceful time in his life since Billy’s death.

  Chapter 16

  “Ha! Quincy Morgan! I heard you was outta prison.”

  Quincy turned in reaction to the booming voice behind him, thinking he recognized it. “Mike Swann,” he huffed when he saw the hulking man dressed like an Indian in animal skins and wearing a red bandanna wrapped around a full head of long dirty black hair. “Damn, you ain’t any better lookin’ than the last time I saw you.”

  “That would be Oklahoma Injun Territory, if I recollect rightly,” Swann said. “Last I seen you, you was hightailin’ it down the center of that gulch with two Choctaw Lighthorse policemen hot on your tail. Did they catch up with you?”

  “Nah, but a damn deputy marshal did after I ran my horse till he foundered,” Quincy said. “Set down and have a drink.” He nodded at Lonnie. “You know my cousin, Lonnie?”

  “Can’t say as I’ve had the pleasure,” Swann said as he pulled a chair back and sat down. “You wasn’t with Quincy that day back in the Nation, I don’t believe.”

  “No, I was in Witchita, doin’ a little cattle business,” Lonnie said.

  He knew of Mike Swann but had never had any dealings with him, as his cousin had. Quincy had pulled a couple of jobs with Swann but was never interested in forming a lasting partnership. According to Quincy, Swann was a crude, brutal man who took too many chances.

  Turning back to Quincy, Swann said, “If you’d hid in the back room of that bank with the rest of us, you’da got away.” He grinned wide. “But you ran out the front and they saw you.” He laughed. “Them Choctaws took off after you and gave us a chance to ride off real peacefullike. Never got the chance to thank you for that till now. I’d be happy to give you your share of that bank money, but we spent it.” He enjoyed a good laugh over the incident before continuing. “So I reckon that’s when they sent you to prison.”

  “No,” Quincy answered. “I said the deputy marshal caught up with me. I didn’t say he walked away from it.” His remark brought on another roar of laughter from the crude man. “What are you doin’ out in this part of the country?” Quincy asked. “You finally get run outta Oklahoma?”

  “I just come out here for my health,” Swann said, and winked at Lonnie. “It was gettin’ a little too warm for me back there.”

  “You still livin’ with that Choctaw wildcat?” Quincy asked.

  “Nah, she got to where she was gettin’ into my likker too much. I come in one day and caught her on her back with Skinny Tarpley in the saddle. You remember Skinny—used to ride with me? Anyway, I cut her throat.” He laughed thinking about it. “That’s the reason I come out here for my health. That bitch musta had a hundred relatives, all wantin’ my scalp. Yes, sir, it was gettin’ a mite warm back there.” He shook his head thoughtfully in recalling. “Skinny’s still with me. He was too good a man with a gun or knife to get rid of.”

  “Are you doin’ any business out here?” Quincy asked.

  “A little,” Swann replied. “Most of it small stuff. There’s plenty of miners all over these hills, but ain’t many of ’em findin’ no real color. Grub money is about all it amounts to—ain’t run across no big score yet.”

  Quincy picked up the bottle and poured Swann another shot. Lonnie could tell at a glance that he was doing some serious thinking, and he was afraid he knew what he was thinking about. And he wasn’t sure he went along with it, so he frowned at his cousin, but Quincy only winked in return, then proceeded to make Swann a proposition. “You and Skinny just might be glad you ran into me and Lonnie,” he said.

  “How’s that?” Swann replied, immediately interested. “You got somethin’ goin’?”

  “As a matter of fact,” Quincy said, “we’ve got a little chore up in Spearfish we’re fixin’ to do. We’ve been holdin’ back on it, ’cause there ain’t but the two of us. But with four of us, it oughta be a cakewalk. Right, Lonnie?” He looked at his cousin for support, but Lonnie was not enthusiastic about sharing the gold left behind at the Three Widows. Quincy continued to ignore the signals sent his way.

  “How much is in it for me and Skinny?” Swann asked.

  “Gold dust worth about five thousand dollars, just settin’ there where we hid it. All we got to do is go up there and take it, and we’ll split it down the middle, twenty-five hundred for you and Skinny, the same for me and Lonnie. How’s that sound to ya?”

  “Well, you damn sure got my attention,” Swann said. “Whadda we gotta go up against? You said you was holdin’ back when there was just two of you.”

  “Just a few townspeople,” Quincy said. “But it’ll just be easier with four of us. They won’t give us no trouble atall. They’ll be too scared to. If it was just me and Lonnie, somebody might try to take a shot at us.” He went on to explain the situation in Spearfish, what had happened there, and where the money was hidden.

  “What about that posse that stopped the hangin’ you was fixin’ to have?” Swann asked.

  “You ain’t gonna have to worry about them,” Quincy assured him. “They were from the Triple-T Ranch, seven miles away.”

  Swann didn’t have to take any time to decide. “All right,” he said. “We’re in. When do you wanna get started?”

  “You think you gotta talk it over with Skinny first?” Quincy asked.

  “Nah, I can speak for him. He’s upstairs with that big ol’ whore, the one with the wart on her chin.” Swann laughed. “He’s partial to big women. I told him one of these days he’s gonna be with the wrong woman and the next feller will shoot him instead of the woman.”

  “Good,” Quincy said. “We’ll start out in the mornin’. I don’t see any sense in waitin’. We’ll meet you for breakfast in the hotel. I’ll even spring for it.”

  They had a couple more shots of whiskey, and then Swann left to tell Skinny the news. When he had gone, Lonnie spoke up for the first time since the crude man had joined them. “Five thousand, huh? We figured them two bags are holdin’ more like ten thousand each. We might not eve
r get a shot at that much again.”

  Quincy grinned. “I don’t think Swann needs to know that. Hell, it might be worth more than that. We just gotta make sure me and you are the only ones to handle those two bags. I figure it’d be worth twenty-five hundred to have two extra men to help us. We’ll see how it goes—might not even cost us the twenty-five hundred.” He gave Lonnie a wink. “We’ll tell ’em somebody musta got away with half of it. Don’t worry. We ain’t gonna give away our fortune.”

  “I’m glad to hear you say it,” Lonnie said. “I sure as hell don’t wanna give up that money to the likes of Mike Swann. I didn’t like the idea at first, but you’re right about one thing, nobody’s liable to try to put up a fuss if there’s four of us.”

  * * *

  “Good Lord A’mighty!” Fred Ramsey blurted as he stood looking out the window of his store.

  “What is it, Fred?” Martha Ramsey called out from behind the counter where she was arranging a stack of dish towels she hoped to sell.

  “They’re back!” Fred answered, scarcely able to believe his eyes. “Ridin’ down the middle of the street just like they owned it.”

  Struck by the urgency in her husband’s voice, Martha hurried to the window to see for herself. The sight caused her to catch her breath in alarm. “Oh my Lord,” she gasped. “They’ve got two more of their kind with them.” She clutched Fred’s arm in fear. They had never expected to see Quincy and Lonnie back again after the loathsome pair had been driven out of town. “What should we do?”

  “Hell, I don’t know,” Fred answered. “What can we do?”

  “Why do you suppose they came back here?”

  “I don’t know,” Fred repeated. “They sure came back with some fearsome-lookin’ help—came to get even, maybe. I’m damn glad they passed us by. I sure as hell don’t wanna be the one to tell ’em they’re not welcome here.” They continued to watch the four riders as they moved on past the saloon, walking their horses four abreast. When they passed by the stable, Fred exclaimed, “They’re headin’ for the boardin’house.”