Ralph Compton the Law and the Lawless

by Ralph Compton

  Stepping up to it so it was between her legs, she stooped and fiddled with the laces to one of her embroidered boots. She had been wearing them instead of her work boots because she’d hoped Boyd would come calling and wanted to look her best.

  Toomis glared at her, and looked away. None of the others paid her any mind, and there was still no sign of Bert Varrow.

  Cecelia gripped the rock and tried to move it. It didn’t budge. She tried harder and succeeded in loosening it a little. Encouraged, she gripped it with both hands, careful not to cut her fingers. Pushing and tugging as hard as she could, she loosened it even more.

  Cecelia pried at the dirt with her fingernails, scraping enough away that she could tell that two or three more inches of rock were embedded in the earth. It was exactly what she needed.

  Swiping at a bang that fell over her yes, Cecelia strained. The rock moved more than ever but still wasn’t loose enough to pull out.

  “What the hell are you doin’?”

  Her heart leaping into her throat, Cecelia looked up. Ira Toomis had come over and was regarding her suspiciously. “Nothing much,” she said. “Adjusting my shoe.”

  “Liar.”

  “I’ll thank you to leave me be,” Cecelia said.

  “Move away from there,” Toomis ordered her.

  “I will not.”

  “I want to see what you’re up to. Stand up and step back or I’ll move you myself.”

  “You’re not to lay a finger on me,” Cecelia blustered.

  “Or what? You’ll scream?” Toomis stepped up, placed his hand on her shoulder, and shoved.

  Cecelia was thrown off balance. She fell onto her back but contrived to lower her legs so her dress hid the rock. “How dare you!”

  The other outlaws had seen and were rising. Cestus Calloway wasted no time in striding over and demanding to know, “What’s goin’ on? Why are you pushin’ her, Ira?”

  “She’s a lyin’ sack,” Toomis said. “She’s up to somethin’ and she won’t say what it is.”

  “Miss Wilson?” Cestus said.

  “I have no idea what he’s talking about,” Cecelia said. “He’s been out to get me since I hit him with that rock.”

  “Move your legs,” Toomis said.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You heard me, bitch. Move your legs.” Toomis drew his six-shooter and pointed it at her.

  Cecelia turned to Calloway. “Are you going to let him treat me this way? It’s despicable. Or aren’t you the gentleman you claimed to be?”

  “I never claimed any such thing,” Cestus said.

  “Have her move her legs,” Toomis said.

  “What for?”

  “Have her do it, damn it,” Toomis said. “I don’t ask a lot. You can at least do this, and we’ll both see.”

  “Move your legs,” Cestus said.

  “I refuse,” Cecelia replied.

  “Lady, you don’t move them, I’ll by God pistol-whip you,” Toomis warned her. “Let’s see how uppity you are when you’re swallowin’ your teeth.”

  “Please, ma’am. Do as he says.”

  “No, I say.”

  Bending, Cestus reached for her ankles.

  “Don’t touch me,” Cecelia said, and pumping her elbows and legs, she slid back far enough that he couldn’t.

  “Well, look at that,” Toomis said. He took a short step and kicked the rock. “She was tryin’ to pull this out of the ground.”

  Cestus Calloway made a clucking sound and wagged a finger at her. “Last night, and now this. What am I to do with you?”

  Ira Toomis bared his teeth in a sneer. “I have an idea,” he said, and raised his revolver. “Give her to me.”

  Chapter 33

  To say that Boyd and the posse were stunned didn’t describe it by half. They sat their saddles and stared at the mark in the tree and then at one another and at the mark again.

  Lefty broke their shock with “This doesn’t make no sense.”

  “The scout is dead,” Sherm Bonner said. “He can’t have made that mark.”

  Boyd gigged the chestnut over and ran his fingers along the arrow. It certainly looked like those that Dale had made, but so did all of the ones they’d come across.

  “I’m not the only one who is confused, then?” Divett asked. “How can a dead man leave sign for us?”

  “He can’t,” Vogel said. “But that’s not the real question.” He regarded them gravely. “The real question is, how long has this been going on?”

  Boyd gave a start. If Harve hadn’t done this one, then he hadn’t done others for how far back? “It depends on when they got their hands on him. If it was at the clearing, then this is the first mark they’ve faked.”

  “What if they caught him before the clearin’?” Sherm Bonner said.

  Lefty nodded. “What if it was as far back as the cave? Or even before that? They could have been leavin’ marks for miles and miles.”

  Divett fidgeted in his saddle. “I’m more confused than ever. Can someone explain to me why they would do that? Leave marks for us to follow them? They certainly don’t want us to catch them.”

  “Maybe they do,” Vogel said, staring meaningfully at Boyd. “Maybe they’ve been stringing us along until they’re ready to turn the tables.”

  “Meaning?” young Titus said.

  “An ambush,” Lefty said. “They’ll draw us off into the wilds until they’re ready, and then bushwhack us.”

  “Clever,” Sherm said.

  “My word,” Divett declared. “Then we’ve been duped all along? We’ve been at their mercy and not known it?”

  “Not yet, we’re not,” Vogel said.

  Boyd reined the chestnut around to face them. “We were lucky to catch on before it was too late. If we hadn’t found Dale’s body . . .” He didn’t like to think of the probable outcome: all of them dead, and Cecelia with no hope whatsoever of being rescued.

  “What do we do? Turn back?” Divett asked.

  “Be serious, pencil pusher,” Lefty said.

  “I am,” Divett responded. “What does it matter if we know the marks are fake or not? We still have to follow them, and they’ll still lie in wait and ambush us. We’d be fools to carry on.”

  “We’d be weak sisters not to,” Sherm Bonner said.

  “Exactly right, pard,” Lefty said. “The hunters became the hunted, but now the hunters can do the huntin’ again.”

  “Huh?” Divett said.

  Boyd agreed with Lefty. “Now that we know, we can use it against them. We’ll push on, for Miss Wilson’s sake if nothin’ else, but we’ll be more careful than ever.”

  “How do we keep from riding into their ambush?” Divett wanted to know. “They could jump us at any time.”

  Boyd scratched his chin. “One of us will have to ride ahead and keep his eyes peeled. He spots the trap, he rides back and warns us.”

  “What if he doesn’t spot it? What if they kill him and lie in wait for the rest of us?”

  “That’s a chance we’ll have to take.”

  “I’m not sure I want to,” the accountant said. “When I agreed to join the posse, I didn’t anticipate anything like this. I never imagined we’d be playing cat and mouse with these fellows.”

  “You can’t predict life,” Lefty said.

  “I beg to differ,” Divett said. “You can at least apply logic, and this isn’t logical. Not at all. We continue on and some of us are bound to die.”

  “Maybe all of us,” Lefty said.

  “Was that supposed to be funny? I don’t find the prospect the least bit amusing. In fact—”

  Boyd was tired of him. “Enough. I’ve told you before. You’re welcome to head back any time you want, and anyone else who wants to go with you is welcome to tag along. But I’m not givin’
up. Those bastards have Cecelia. They’ve killed my friends. I’ll go on alone if I have to, but I’m going.”

  “You’re not alone, Marshal,” Lefty said.

  “No, you’re not,” Sherm Bonner said.

  Vogel nodded grimly.

  Young Titus appeared uncertain. He glanced at Divett, and at the arrow. “I never counted on anything like this either. But there’s a lady at stake, and for me, that’s what matters. No one should ever harm a female. Not ever. That’s as wrong as wrong can be. I have a ma and I have sisters, and they’d want me to keep going.”

  “Well, then,” Divett said bleakly, “if all of you are continuing on, I must as well.”

  “You don’t sound very happy about it,” Lefty said.

  “I’ll do my part. Never fear.”

  Boyd would just as soon that the accountant did go back. He was their weak link, and they could do just as well without him. “None of us will hold it against you if you turn around.”

  “No, I say.”

  “Then no more bellyachin’,” Boyd said. “From here on out, keep your gloom and doom to yourself. We have enough on our minds.”

  “Calling our enterprise folly isn’t necessarily gloom.”

  Lefty threw back his head and cackled. “Mister, if we were fightin’ those outlaws with words, you’d win by your lonesome.”

  “Huh?” Divett said again.

  “Now that that’s settled,” Vogel said, “how do we decide who rides ahead? Flip a coin? Take turns? Or do you want a volunteer?”

  “Turns would be fairest,” Lefty said. “I don’t mind if the rest of you don’t, but I reckon it’s up to the law dog.”

  “Turns it will be,” Boyd said, “except for Mr. Divett and Mr. Titus.”

  “Excuse me?” Divett said.

  “I want to help too,” Titus said.

  Boyd pointed at the accountant. “You’re no good in these woods. You make too much noise, and you’ve hardly ever used that revolver of yours.” He pointed at the butcher’s apprentice. “You’re still green behind the ears. You’d do better than he would, but the four of us can do even better, so Lefty, Bonner, Vogel, and me will take the turns.”

  “Count your blessin’s, boy,” Lefty said.

  “I’m a man,” Titus said, “and I don’t like being treated as if I’m not.”

  “Listen to the marshal, son,” Vogel said. “He’s been a lawman for years and knows what he’s doing. Me, I hunt all the time. These cowhands are always out riding the range. They’re used to the outdoors, and can sense things you wouldn’t. It’s smart that it’s the four of us, and not an insult to you.”

  “It feels like an insult,” Titus said, “but when you put it that way, I guess I shouldn’t be upset.”

  “Now that that’s settled, I’ll take the first turn,” Boyd said. “Keep followin’ the signs.” He started to rein around, and paused. “And if you hear shots, come on damn quick.”

  • • •

  Cecelia had never been so humiliated in her life. She was tied wrists and ankles, both, and belly-down over the back of Ira Toomis’s horse. He kept looking down at her, and chuckling. Worst of all, whenever it struck his fancy, he reached back and smacked her posterior.

  He did it again just now, and laughed. “That’s a nice fanny you’ve got, lady, for an old gal.”

  “You’re despicable,” Cecelia said.

  “Because I like fannies? Hell, most folks do. Well, men at least. I don’t know what you ladies look for in a man, whether it’s our behinds or somethin’ else.”

  “I don’t ever look at a man’s behind,” Cecelia said indignantly.

  “Really? Me, that’s all I look at when I go to a sportin’ house. All those pretty gals in tight dresses sashayin’ around with their fannies stickin’ out. I tell you, I just about drool.”

  “You’re not only despicable, you’re crude.”

  “If crude is likin’ fannies, then I’m crude as hell.”

  “Enough about fannies. I’d rather talk about something else. Or better yet, not talk to you at all.”

  “Keep puttin’ on airs,” Toomis said. “It will make it easier when the time comes.”

  “The time for what?” Cecelia asked, although she knew full well.

  Toomis smirked and didn’t answer.

  Resting her cheek against the horse, Cecelia closed her eyes. It had been bad before, but this was worlds worse. As a punishment, Cestus Calloway had handed her over to Toomis and told him to look after her until they stopped for the night.

  Toomis took to it with glee. He’d thrown her over his horse instead of letting her ride, and had been fondling her to his heart’s content. The man was wicked through and through.

  “I hope Cestus lets me keep you after we’re done with that posse,” Toomis remarked. “You could be sort of my pet,” he said, and chuckled.

  “I’m no one’s dog, thank you very much.”

  “Or better yet, we could take turns with you. You have a fine figure for a gal your age.”

  “If my hands were free and I had a gun, I’d shoot you.”

  “After that rap you gave me on my noggin’, I believe you,” Toomis said. “My head still hurts.”

  “I’ll give you another rap when I’m able,” Cecelia said.

  “You won’t be. We went easy on you before, but not anymore. You spoiled it for yourself by helpin’ that scout. And your lover spoiled it more by breakin’ his word to Cestus.”

  “Boyd does what he has to. He probably felt it was necessary to save me from your clutches.”

  “All it did was make Cestus mad. He’s a peaceable fella and doesn’t get mad often, but he’s mad now, and that’s good.”

  Despite herself, Cecelia asked, “Good how?”

  “Cestus doesn’t like to hurt folks. All that robbin’ we did, you ever hear of us shootin’ anybody? No, you didn’t. Because Cestus wouldn’t let us. But now his dander is up and he’s out for blood.”

  “Why not just leave me and ride on by yourselves? The posse won’t pursue you once they have me.”

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? But they’d just send you back to town with one or two of them and the rest will keep after us until they run us into the ground or we buck them out in gore.”

  “You kill them and you’ll hang. You know that, don’t you?”

  “Lady, I’ve been on the wrong side of the law since who flung the chunk. I have stole and I have killed, enough that I could be hanged six times over. Givin’ the law more cause doesn’t bother me any.”

  Cecelia lapsed into silence. The swaying motion of the horse, and the smell, made her think of her childhood. Her father had given her a pony for her tenth birthday and she’d spent every spare moment riding and grooming and feeding it.

  It got so that one time her mother teased her that she smelled like the pony.

  Her legs were beginning to cramp. She shifted to try to relieve the pain, but it didn’t help. The rope around her ankles was too tight.

  “Won’t you please let me ride?”

  “No,” Toomis said.

  “I’m hurting.”

  “Good.”

  “Are you so hard-hearted that you would let another human being suffer?”

  Toomis laughed. “What do you think?”

  “Has anyone ever told you that you’re almost as vile as Mad Dog Hanks?” Cecelia said.

  “If that was an insult it was a poor one.”

  Cecelia fell silent again. She was wasting her breath. These men were truly heartless. Even Calloway, who pretended to be different but deep down he wasn’t.

  Ira Toomis drew rein next to a tall pine and took a clasp knife from his pocket and opened it.

  “Another mark?” Cecelia said.

  “What else?”

  “You’
re wasting your time. They won’t ride into your gun sights. Boyd is too smart to be ambushed.”

  “Keep tellin’ yourself that, lady.” Toomis jabbed the tip of the blade into the bark and went to work.

  Cecelia thought about smacking the horse with her arms to make it spook, but what good would that do? She might be pitched off, and Toomis would finish making the mark anyway.

  “When it comes to smart, there’s no one as clever as Cestus,” Toomis informed her. “He’s a fox, that man is. It’s why we’ve stuck with him so long.”

  “That’s nice,” Cecelia said.

  Toomis twisted around, and sneered. “You won’t think that when you see your lover leakin’ blood like a sieve.”

  Chapter 34

  Boyd rode at a walk. As much as he yearned to gallop to Cecelia’s rescue, now that he knew the outlaws might be lying in wait somewhere ahead, extreme caution was called for.

  He couldn’t get Harvey Dale out of his head. He missed the old scout. Dale had been reliable, the one person he could count on. More so than Mitch, whose only true fault had been that he was new to the job. More experience would have molded Mitch into a fine lawman.

  The chestnut cleared a rise, and there was another arrow. It pointed to the northwest this time.

  Boyd went past without stopping. The outlaws appeared to be heading for the Divide. Either they intended to cross over to the other side, or they had a more sinister purpose.

  Boyd couldn’t see the outlaws crossing over. They’d always operated on this side of the Rockies. The higher they went, though, the fewer trees there would be, allowing plenty of places for an ambush.

  An hour went by, and then two. The strain of staying alert, of never knowing when a rifle might thunder and a slug sear his body, began to tell. He was tired and on edge.

  Boyd supposed he should wait for the others and let someone else take a turn at riding point. But thinking about Cecelia goaded him on. He would give anything for a glimpse of her, just to know she hadn’t been harmed.

  The trees thinned and came to an end at the base of a steep slope covered with talus.

  Boyd wasn’t about to risk the chestnut breaking a leg. He scoured the talus but saw no evidence the outlaws had dared to climb it either. Reining right, he came on several clear tracks. The outlaws had gone around as he was doing.