Murder for Greenhorns

by Kresge, Robert

  Then he glanced at Kate. With her wildly striped face, shock of unruly hair, and blood-soaked, bandaged ankles, she looked a lot different from the beautiful woman he’d seen in town. Kate stuck her tongue out at him, and he recoiled.

  “Uh, maybe you’re right. Reckon I’ll just settle for the horse.”

  “Joe, Chet, I’m mighty glad to see you. Who’s minding the saloon?”

  “Had to leave Bull in charge,” Joe said. “He’s too big to ride any of the first few horses we caught, so we left him behind. He wanted to get in on the fight, if there was gonna be one.” He and Chet stared from the two wounded men to the three bodies in front of the ranch buildings.

  “Looks like you didn’t need much help, Marshal.” Chet said. “Five men down. You must be a lightning draw and one hell of a shot.”

  Monday drew his pistol and spun the cylinder. “Still got five pills in the wheel, boys.” He grinned as he holstered it.

  “Naw, I had help. Mike Logan over there was behind all this. His real name was Mick Lonergan. Rode with Quantrill during the war in Kansas. He hired Quincannon to kill Marshal Taggart and then me, but Quincannon changed sides and saved me.”

  “Dang,” said Joe. “I musta shook my brains loose between here and town. How could anybody kill Marshal Taggart and you?”

  “Because I ain’t Sam Taggart, Joe. My name’s Monday Malone, and I’m just a simple cowpoke from Texas on my way to Montana. I was riding with Miss Kate and Sam Taggart when Quincannon ambushed the marshal. I been pretending to be him for the last two weeks. I’m plumb sorry for having lied to you and everybody.”

  He unpinned the star from his shirt and dropped it into Joe’s palm. Kate gasped.

  “If you don’t mind, Joe, can I leave you in charge here? I want to take Miss Kate in to see Doc Gertz. I’ll send him out with Bull’s wagon. He’ll have to say if these two boys can travel.”

  Joe didn’t speak but stood staring at the badge in his hand.

  At length, Chet said, “That’ll be all right, Marshal . . . , uh, Mister Malone. Reckon you’ll have to get a fresh horse for Miss Kate, though. Yours may be rested, but our nags won’t be worth much for a while.”

  “She can use my horse,” Red offered. “Little pinto in the second stall on the left. My saddle’s hung next to him.” Monday tipped his hat to Red and picked up his saddle blanket.

  Joe shook himself out of his thoughts. “Where shall we deliver these boys? To the jail?”

  “No need of that. Logan told me they weren’t with him in the war. I don’t think they had anything to do with bushwhacking Marshal Taggart. Won’t be no lawman to lock ’em up anyway, since I gave you my badge. Doc’ll likely want to keep ’em at his place.”

  In a little while, Monday came back with Red’s horse saddled and shook hands all around. When he helped Kate mount, she dangled her bandaged feet, barely touching the stirrups. They walked the horses slowly back to the trail and turned toward town.

  “I’m sorry I shouted at you back there,” Monday began. She was pleased he had the courage to apologize.

  “That’s all right. I guess I deserved it. I’ve been called willful and bossy, and I was ordering you around rather too much.”

  “Well, I hadn’t really recovered from the shock—and joy, of course, joy—of seeing you.”

  She pushed dusty matted hair away from her face. “God, I must look such a mess.”

  “Not to me. When you rode in there, I thought maybe I hadn’t survived that shoot-out. You looked like an angel, come for me.”

  “What really happened back there? You said Quincannon helped you. I didn’t see him.”

  “He helped me from a long ways off with that rifle of his. I thought he might come up here to warn the others, but something you said must’ve made him ride here before I showed up. He killed Crail and Logan. I didn’t have to.”

  “And Loomis?”

  “Reckon I killed him. Maybe killed him twice for good measure.”

  Kate shuddered. “Will you go after Quincannon?”

  “Don’t want to. And in case you didn’t notice, I ain’t wearing a star any more. He’s none of my business now.”

  Kate breathed a sigh of relief. “Then I can tell you what happened in the schoolhouse. Remember how you found me? Quincannon tied and gagged me, then used some of the bell rope to tie me to the chair. I’d thrust his letter into my bodice. Once I was trussed up, he, well, he retrieved it.” Monday turned to look at her. Kate wouldn’t look at him.

  “You were right,” She continued, looking down at her saddle horn. “He said he’d seen what he called my ‘charms’ that morning at Box Elder Creek. When he took the letter back, he opened more buttons and, and touched me. You may have noticed he left some of my buttons askew. He said that since you’d already want him for murder, he couldn’t pass up the opportunity.” Kate looked at him squarely.

  “Now that you’ve said you won’t pursue him, I felt I could tell you about it. I never thought I could say this about anyone who took indecent liberties with me, but I don’t begrudge him a bit, since he saved your life.” It was more than she’d dared hope for during her desperate ride.

  “Well, Kate, John was my friend. But if I ever get him in my sights one day—”

  “Don’t even think about that. We were both lucky today, luckier than we deserved. Let’s talk about tomorrow.” She steered her horse closer to him.

  “I asked the town council to meet at nine to hear what I thought would be our confession of failure. Now we can use that meeting to report some success. What can we tell them? When did you last talk to Quincannon in the saloon? Didn’t Buxton spot the black horse that night?”

  “I can see that now. Don’t know why I didn’t see it when we were talking about suspects yesterday. I told John we were looking for that big black horse. We never saw it again after that night. Reckon I warned him without meaning to.”

  “Don’t be too hard on yourself,” Kate said, reaching across to touch his hand. “I didn’t make the connection to Loomis and Crail early enough. They were in town the day before my drawing was shot up in front of your jail and the schoolhouse was damaged. If I’d suspected them sooner, we might have figured this out with fewer deaths—and a lot less danger to ourselves. I guess we were greenhorns at this business, after all. If we were to get better, though, what’s the opposite of a greenhorn?”

  Monday was silent for a moment. “Well, I reckon that’s easy enough for a cowboy. Opposite of a greenhorn would be a top hand. Now for a school teacher, I guess it’d be a perfesser. I ain’t sure what you’d call a top lawman.”

  Maybe he’d get to find out, Kate thought.

  Chapter 37

  Tuesday

  Warbonnet

  Kate and Monday got to town more than an hour later. At Doc’s office, Monday got down and tied both horses. Kate stayed mounted. She hurt in every fiber of her being.

  “I can’t get down, Monday. I mean it. I can’t bend my knees nor use my muscles. And my ankles are so sore, they wouldn’t support me if I tried to stand.”

  Monday stepped between the two horses, put his left foot in Lightning’s right stirrup, and rose to Kate’s level. He reached over and took her gently in both arms, shifted his weight, and stepped back down. He walked around the horses and carried her up onto the duckboards.

  “Hey, Doc, open up! I brought you a week’s worth of business.”

  Doc ushered them into the back. Monday explained that besides Kate’s cut feet, he’d left two wounded men out at the X-Star Ranch. He said if Doc would tend to Kate, he’d go hitch up Bull’s wagon for Doc to go out there. Monday tipped his hat to Kate and shut the door.

  Doc gingerly unwrapped Kate’s bandages, sucking in his breath at the sight of her cuts.

  “What happened out there, Kate, that there’s so high a butcher’s bill?”

  “Oh, Doc, it was awful. You remember what you told me about Lawrence, Kansas this morning? Mike Logan was really Mick Lonergan. He
knew Marshal Taggart—the real marshal, the one who died out on the trail—would have recognized them, arrested them, and taken away his ill-gotten land. The man who’s been pretending to be Sam Taggart in order to smoke out the killer is really Monday Malone.”

  Doc unwound her bandages and washed her ankles, shaking his head at both her wounds and her story.

  “Anyway, Logan, Crail, and Loomis were killed, and Quincannon got away. Red Tyler was hit in the right arm and Jasper in the right leg. I bandaged them as best I could and elevated their wounds, but you’ll want to see them as soon as possible.” She ran out of breath and coughed. Doc brought her a cup of water. She drained it greedily.

  He gave her more and shook his head. “If I missed any of that, I hope I can follow it better tomorrow, when you tell the council the whole story. I’m afraid your ankles have some pretty deep cuts here. This one—” he held up one foot—“goes almost to the bone. Three of the cuts are going to take stitches. Kate, I hate to tell you this, but you’re not going to have perfect ankles after today. There may be some scarring.”

  “That’s all right, Doctor. Do what you must. What’s another scar or two?”

  “Oh, that’s right. Your folly scar. Well,” he said, getting out needle and thread, “you’re going to have some more folly scars now.”

  “No. These are badges of honor, not folly. I chose to do what I did to get these today, trying to save Monday Malone’s life. I won’t ever regret them. Besides, unlike the back of my hand, they’ll be out of sight. No one but my husband or a doctor will ever see my bare ankles.”

  Kate cried out twice during the stitching. As Doc wrapped fresh bandages on her ankles, she used a wet cloth and a hand mirror to restore her face to some semblance of normalcy. No hope for the hair yet. Just as they both finished, Monday knocked at the door. He had the team and wagon out front.

  “If you don’t mind, Doc, I’m not fixing to ride with you. I’d like to see Miss Kate back to Martha’s.”

  “Kate oughtn’t to walk today. Maybe a little tomorrow. She’s to stay off her feet.”

  “That’s all right, Doc, I know how to get her home.” Monday picked Kate up and saw she’d cleaned her face. Her beautiful hair was still matted and tangled.

  “You smell like dust. But dust never smelled this good when I was riding drag on those cattle drives.” Kate was beyond objecting to his carrying her or to his back-handed compliments.

  Martha was preparing supper when Monday carried Kate through the house and into the kitchen. She came back and fussed over Kate’s wounds as Monday set her in a chair.

  “We’ll have to get you something to eat right here—and you, too, Marshal. I don’t expect you’ll want to go out there and deal with Mark and Clancy’s questions. And the Simmonses are here tonight.

  “We’ll have to get those bits of stockings off you, Kate. They’re just rags now.”

  Without thinking, Monday knelt and lifted the hem of her skirt, then stood up awkwardly.

  “Marshal Taggart, what were you going to do? You can’t be thinking of taking the stockings off this young woman. Your wife will be here directly and—”

  “Oh, let him do it, Ma,” said Buxton. “He took her stockings off Saturday night. Right here in the kitchen.”

  Kate looked at Monday in amazement, but Martha rounded on him in fury. “You did? Then get out of my house, Mr. Taggart! I’ll not have my children exposed—”

  “I’m leaving, Mrs. Haskell,” Monday said. “I reckon it’s Kate’s business who takes her stockings off. I ain’t married. I ain’t even Sam Taggart. My name’s Monday Malone, thank you very much. And I ain’t the marshal no more!” He flipped back his vest to show his shirt.

  He tipped his hat to Kate and said in a calmer voice, “I’ll come by for you tomorrow, Miss Kate. Just before nine.”

  Kate opened her mouth to speak, but Monday was heading for the front door. Buxton ran after him, tears in his eyes.

  “Marshal, Marshal, wait!” The boy must have caught him near the front door. Kate could hear every word.

  “What do you mean you ain’t you no more? And why ain’t you the marshal neither?”

  “I’m right sorry, Buck, but I did something bad. I pretended to be Marshal Taggart so I could help catch the man who killed him. I thought I was doing the right thing at the time, but I had to lie to you and to everybody else the last two weeks. At first, it was easy, but I felt worse every day lying to the people in this town. They’re gonna be real upset tomorrow when they find out.” Buxton sniffed a little.

  “It’s all right if they want to hate me. I’m gonna go punch cows in Montana, but you got to help Miss Kate, so they don’t get sore at her. She’ll need you and Sally and your Ma. Take care of her for me, will you? Dry them tears, Buck. I’ll be back here in the morning to take Miss Kate to the council meeting. I’ll see you then.”

  “Monday,” Kate called out impulsively from the kitchen, fresh tears staining her cheeks. She struggled to keep the tears out of her voice. “Martha just told me they changed the time of the meeting.” Martha opened her mouth to object, but Kate motioned her to silence. “It’ll be at ten. Will you still come for me?”

  “Yes, Ma’am. I’ll see you a few minutes before ten.” She heard the front door close.

  “Kate, I thought you and the marsh—that man—were done telling lies. Why’d you say I told you about a time change?”

  “I’m sorry to involve you in a lie without your permission. I had to think of something quickly,” Kate said, rubbing the back of her left hand.

  “I almost died today trying to save that rash young man. He faced down three killers, men who would have killed him first and me next. I tried to save him with an empty rifle. I have to think of something I can do tomorrow morning. He’s not going to talk to the council members until I’ve seen them first.”

  “Well, what can you do, Kate? You can’t go into the council meeting with a rifle.”

  Kate began to think. There were weapons and there were weapons.

  “Martha, those dresses on the back of that chair. Are they Jane’s hand-me-downs? The ones we were going to let out the darts in the bodices?”

  “Yes, but I’ve been too busy to get to them.”

  “That’s all right. I shall need the dark blue one, and something else.”

  She stroked her chin and smiled.

  “Where do you keep that little bottle of vanilla essence we made?”

  Chapter 38

  Wednesday

  Warbonnet

  Monday slept in after the events of yesterday. He ate a cold breakfast, washed down with the last of his warmed over coffee. Have to remember to buy some more before he left town. Have to buy a new blanket too, to replace the one cut full of holes. And he’d have to get his money from the bank and settle up with Joe Fitch. A lot to remember. He checked his watch. Nine-thirty. Still a while ’til he had to pick up Kate. Wonder if she could walk this morning. Hope not. He’d like to carry her to the meeting.

  He packed his few clothes into his saddlebags, leaving Jack Haskell’s hand-me-downs on the shelves. He’d send Buck for them. He loaded his rifle and put it on the desk. Would’ve been smart to do that yesterday.

  He’d been concerned about when the deputy from Laramie would arrive. Since he hadn’t come last night or this morning, Monday figured he had at least until this afternoon to be on his way. He walked over to a front window. The prints of Kate’s fingers were still there in the dust, where she’d stood at this window the other day. He put his fingers onto the prints. With his other hand, he touched the cheek where she’d kissed him.

  Monday remembered the way she’d kissed him in the dusty ranchyard yesterday, after she expected to find him dead. But he also recalled how he’d felt when he thought Kate was dead. He shivered at the thought. Enough. She was safe now. Safe and among friends. He ought to be thinking about Montana.

  He checked his watch. Time to go over to Haskells’ and get Kate. As he walked toward
the boarding house, Monday noticed bloody smears on the schoolhouse porch, just as Kate had said. She’d risked a lot for him, endured a lot of pain. Had he thanked her properly? Better do that now. The council might not allow them time, if they ran him out of town right away.

  Monday knocked on Martha’s door and was relieved to see Sally answer it instead of her mother. But even Sally seemed to have turned against him. She just left him to close the door and follow her. Through a kitchen window, he saw Buck out back, splitting kindling. Martha stood when he came into the room and put down the gray dress she’d been working on.

  “Morning, Mr. Malone. Before you say anything, I’d like to apologize for my manners yesterday. After you left, Kate explained what you and she had been up to, how many times you’d risked your life for this town, and what happened yesterday to the both of you. If you’re determined to ride off to Montana today, I don’t want you leaving thinking the Haskells weren’t grateful. And if you decide to stay, I’d be pleased if you’d take all your meals here. For free.”

  Monday held his hat in both hands. “I know you’ve had your suspicions about me for some time, Ma’am. Sorry I turned out to be worthy of them. Thanks for your forgiveness. I’ll try to be worthy of that, too.

  “I’ll probably leave for Montana this afternoon. Maybe I could have dinner here and speak to Buck—Buxton—before I go. Could you send him over to the jail for Mr. Haskell’s clothes? I sure admired wearing ’em, but I ain’t got space in my saddlebags.”

  He asked Sally whether Kate was going to need help getting down the stairs. Sally looked sideways at her mother.

  “Kate didn’t sleep upstairs last night. I thought she might be more comfortable down here. I fixed a place for her in the parlor.” Martha looked at the kitchen clock; it was nearly ten. “Reckon I can tell you now. Kate’s been over at the council meeting for pret’ near an hour now. It truly started at nine, but she wanted time to speak to the council before you did. She thought up that lie last evening, and I went along with it for her sake.”