by Dunlap, Phil
As he came around the corner of the house, Cotton saw Delilah on the porch, holding herself up by clinging to one of the posts, crying her eyes out. Thorn was sitting on the step at an angle that suggested he could barely hold himself erect.
“What is it, Delilah?” Cotton asked. “What’s happened?”
“It’s Mrs. Hardin. Sh-she’s passed away.”
“What? You sayin’ she died, too?”
“Yes. Looks like her poor old heart just gave out. She was taking Jeremiah’s death harder than anyone I’d ever seen before. But, I didn’t think…”
Cotton turned to Jimmy, who had yet to catch up to him. “Son, gather up those shovels. Looks like we’re not quite finished here.” Jimmy did an about-face and shuffled off, with a dejected look and a slump in his shoulders.
“When bad news comes, it seems to gather momentum like a rock rollin’ down a steep hill,” Cotton said, shaking his head.
“I’ll get things together so we can start back, Sheriff,” Delilah said. “All right?”
“Yep. If Thorn can travel.”
“I’ll gather up some food and some blankets,” she said.
“Might as well. It’s clear we can’t stay here with Thorn needin’ a real doc to care for him. And I can’t leave Jimmy here alone to watch the place. One man out here with the chance of Indians comin’ back at any time would be a death sentence for him.”
Delilah said nothing as Cotton walked out into the barren yard and paced, kicking the occasional clod of dirt and raising dust with every footfall. After a few minutes, he turned back to them.
“Thorn, you figure you can handle the trip back to Apache Springs in the back of that buckboard?”
“One way or t’other, I’m goin’ with you. No matter what.”
Delilah dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. “We’ll be ready, Sheriff. Just say when.”
When Jimmy was on his way back, toting the two shovels, Cotton met him halfway.
“Jimmy, we have to carry the old lady out and bury her. Sorry to put you through this much death, but it has to be done. Also, when we’re through, gather up the Hardins’ horses and we’ll tie them on back and take ’em into town with us. If we leave ’em here, the Indians will just steal ’em and eat ’em.”
Cotton put Jimmy in charge of the extra horses. The boy carried his shotgun across the saddle. Cotton drove the buckboard, with Delilah sitting next to him on the seat. Since there wouldn’t be anyone left to use it, Cotton had loaded a featherbed into the back to allow Thorn a more gentle ride.
“Delilah, there are some things I’ve been wanting to ask you. I hope you don’t mind my gettin’ a tad personal.”
“I was wondering when you’d want to learn more about me and Havens. That is what you’re wanting to know about, isn’t it?”
“Well, yes, in a manner of speakin’, I reckon it is. Although, I’m not lookin’ for any private details about your relationship; there’s other things that have me puzzled.”
“Like what?”
“Like: I know we’ve talked about this before, but I still can’t figure how you failed to notice Havens was passin’ around counterfeit money like candy. Especially since you were handling it every day. And what about that young teller Havens hired? Didn’t he ever act the least bit suspicious?”
“If he thought it was phony, he never said a word. It looked like the genuine article to me. I’d never even seen a counterfeit dollar before. I sure wouldn’t have spent it if I’d known. Anyway, I was almost arrested for passing some of it myself. Remember?”
“Yeah. Between you and Thorn spending it, you had a passel of folks near up in arms down in Silver City. Of course, when they thought it was good currency, they were happy to take it.” He gave her a raised eyebrow.
“And I feel real bad about how it all turned out, too. Why, we neither one would have wanted those nice folks to come to no harm from something we did. You believe that, don’t you?”
“For now, I reckon I’ll have to.”
“So, what else is bothering you?”
“You have any idea where he could have gotten that money?”
“I met up with Havens in a dirty little Texas town. Like I told you before, the man I had been with was strung up by vigilantes for taking, uh, some liberties with a couple of their cattle. So I was in bad shape financially. That’s when Havens came along, asked if I’d be interested in helping him with a plan he had, and I fell into his trap. As far as the money, I know he had it at that time. He always kept real close watch on those two valises of his.”
“Any idea how long he’d been in town before you hooked up with him?”
“No, but he must have been there awhile. He knew people because he spent a lot of time with a man he kept calling ‘cousin something or other.’ ”
“Any idea what this ‘cousin’ did for a livin’?”
“From what Bart said, I figured he was a printer.”
“What was the name of that town?”
“It was a dismal little town outside Fort Stockton called St. Gaul.”
Cotton thought that over for a minute before changing the subject.
“Since you claimed that it was you, and not Thorn, that shot Havens, I wonder if you’d mind lettin’ me take a look at the piece you plugged him with.”
“No, I don’t mind.” She opened her handbag, which was gathered at the top with a thin velvet cord. She pulled out the Remington .41-caliber derringer and handed it to the sheriff.
“This is the same gun you shot Havens with?”
“Uh, yeah, that’s it. Why do you ask?”
“Curious, that’s all.”
“Am I in trouble for what I did?”
“No. At least not from me. He deserved killin’, and I don’t rightly care who did it. Knowin’ what kind of a man he was, your claim of self-defense squares up, too.”
* * *
They rode on in silence for the next hour, before stopping to rest in the shade of some trees not far off the road. Cotton got down to check on Thorn. Delilah did the same, rushing around to the wounded man’s side like a mother hen. Cotton pulled the stopper out of one of the canteens and held it to Thorn’s lips. He sipped, then gulped some of the water. Jimmy had tied his horse to a low-hanging limb on one of the trees, under which there was grass enough to feed on. He pulled his canteen from the saddle horn and drank.
Cotton looked over the landscape for any signs of trouble and, seeing none, told the others it was time to get on their way. He didn’t like the way Thorn looked. He was pale and seemed weaker than he had when they started out. Cotton hoped his condition wasn’t getting worse.
As the buckboard rattled on down the road, Cotton was constantly reminded of all the things about the conveyance that he’d never paid attention to before. Things like wheels needing grease on a regular basis. The squeaks and squeals of tortured wood on metal were getting on his nerves. The sound of rusty springs that had no give when the wheels dropped into one of the many ruts wasn’t making the trip any easier, either. His concerns over whether Thorn McCann would survive the rough treatment he had to be experiencing kept nagging at him, too. Then, a sight to bring him out of his misery: as they crested a rise, Apache Springs came into view. What a sight it was, too. Dusty, dirty, and noisy—all the things to give a sheriff a feeling of home.
Chapter 20
Jack was taking no chances with James Lee Hogg. He kept his distance behind the killer as they marched down the center of the street toward the jail. When they reached the front door, Jack shoved the barrel of the shotgun into Hogg’s back and growled, “Open the damned thing, James Lee, or I’ll open it with a blast from this scattergun. Using your body as a batterin’ ram, of course.” Jack snickered.
“All right, all right! Don’t need to go gettin’ pushy, you miserable law dog.” James Lee pushed open the door, and Jack shoved him inside.
Keeping his distance once they were inside, Jack motioned with the shotgun for James Lee to walk i
nto the first cell. He followed up by slamming the cell door shut and locking it with a key from the ring he’d pulled from a knob on the rifle rack.
James Lee dropped onto the hard bunk. He scowled at Jack, who now busied himself with unloading the shotgun and placing it back in its place on the rack. He went over to the desk and sat, leaning back against the wall with his fingers interlaced behind his head and looking quite pleased with himself. He began to whistle, thinking a brandy would taste real fine about now. James Lee broke his reverie.
“Hey! Law dog! When’s some food comin’ my way? Ya can’t let a prisoner starve, you know.” James Lee’s tone was nasty as well as demanding. “It’s against the law.”
“I can if he’s a pig who’ll likely hang anyway.”
James Lee leapt to his feet, grabbing the bars of his cell and shaking them.
“Ain’t nobody gonna hang James Lee Hogg, no sir. Soon as Judge Sanborn finds out what you’ve done, why, he’ll be on the first stage here. Then you hicks will find out what’s what. I’ll be outta here in ten seconds flat. Count on it. Matter of fact, he’s on his way right now.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And you ain’t gonna like it when he gets here.”
“I’m shakin’ in my boots.”
“Yeah, go ahead and scoff at my words. But when I’m free of this dung heap of a town, you’ll be the first one I gun down. You hear me, you—”
“I hear you! You’ve had your say, now shut the hell up!”
Jack got up and walked outside. He looked across the street to see Melody push through the batwing doors to her bawdy house and saloon. She crossed the street with a teasing look on her face, swinging her hips even more than usual. Jack had always been a sucker for her come-ons, and now was no exception. Even living with her had not dampened his enjoyment of her sexual provocations. She walked straight up to him, planted a kiss on his mouth, and took his arm.
“C’mon, honey, I’m getting real lonely.”
That’s when he remembered James Lee Hogg inside.
“Uh, I-I can’t leave the jail right this minute, uh, because—”
“Because what? Jack, you know damned well there’s nothing happening in Apache Springs that demands your immediate attention. Now, let’s go to our room and—”
“No, really, Melody, I can’t go right this minute.”
“Why? You got some boogeyman locked up inside?”
“Uh-huh.”
Melody looked at him like he’d lost his mind.
“You got another woman inside, Jack? Is that it? If you do, I swear I’ll blow off your—”
Jack took her by both arms, spun her around, and looked her straight in the eye.
“Don’t be stupid, Melody. I…”
She broke free from his grip, took one agile step around him, and rushed inside. She stopped abruptly as she took an inventory of her surroundings. Her eyes grew wide with fear at the sight of James Lee Hogg, grinning ear to ear, holding on to the cell bars and staring at her as if she were something good to eat.
“Well, hello, missy. Remember me? My, don’t you look fine? Did you bring my dinner? I’m near to starvin’.”
Melody put her hand to her mouth, spun around, and stormed out of the room.
“What’s that pig in jail for?”
“He tried to kill Emily Wagner. You remember tellin’ him where he could find Cotton, don’t you? Well, that stupid comment of yours got one of her cowboys shot. Better hope when Cotton gets back he don’t take it outta your hide.”
She stomped across the porch and kept right on moving, making a beeline for Melody’s Golden Palace of Pleasure. She didn’t look back. Jack merely sighed.
As promised, Jack returned to check on Emily. When he went inside, she was sitting on the love seat, her hands in her lap, looking worried and perplexed. She looked up when he entered.
“He’s behind bars, Miss Emily. He can’t hurt you now.”
“He already has, with his words. All those awful things he said about Cotton. They can’t be true, they just can’t.”
“I’d wait until Cotton gets back before you make any judgments about him,” Jack said. “James Lee Hogg is a killer and a liar. Don’t you go puttin’ stock in whatever filth he’s been spewin’.”
“I’m sure Cotton appreciates your faith in him, Jack. All of this is a little overwhelming right now, that’s all,” Emily said.
“When Cotton gets back, things will get straightened out. Right now, however, I’d better get back to the jail and check on that animal I got caged up,” Jack said, with a snicker. “That’s where I’ll be in case you need anything.”
“Thank you,” Emily said. As he left, she closed the door and locked it.
The shadows of evening had descended when Jack decided to stop by the hotel and grab a bite to eat. He could also see if the restaurant had any slop they were going to toss to the pigs anyway, and have them put some on a plate for James Lee Hogg. He was grinning from ear to ear at the thought of pigs and slop and James Lee Hogg all together. It was almost prophetic. He had taken one step up onto the hotel porch, when out of the near darkness stepped a figure. Jack suddenly felt a sharp pain explode at the back of his head, then his whole world turned to midnight.
Blinking furiously to try to make something come into focus, anything at all, he was barely aware of the people gathered around him. Shadows, garbled talk, or at least he assumed it was talk. Questions emerged from his confusion. Where am I? Who are these people? Why does my head hurt so damned bad? I don’t remember drinking, or did I really hang one on? Am I just so drunk I don’t remember falling down? If Cotton finds out, I’m through as a deputy. All of these rolled over in his befuddled mind.
“Deputy, the doc is on his way. Just lie still,” said a voice he thought he knew, but couldn’t place. Then other voices joined in. Something was said about drinking too much, but then he heard “No, he’s not drunk. He’s been hit over the head. Can’t you tell? Just look at all that blood.”
Blood?
Jack tried to say something, to question those around him, get some answers to whatever dilemma he now found himself in. That talk about blood, what the hell is that all about? Then…
“Move out of the way. I can’t tell what kind of injuries this man has if you don’t give me room. Now, stand aside!”
Ahh. That voice I recognize. That’s Doc Winters. Wonder if he’s been drinking. Hmm.
Jack felt hands taking hold of his shoulders then lifting him. He heard the doc ask for help to get the patient to his office. Then there were muffled voices seeming to agree to the request. He felt himself lifted and being carried. Who’s the patient they seem so interested in?
After a few minutes of being jostled about, he figured he was being placed on a bed. No, a table. Too hard for a bed. Someone said, “Go get Melody. If Jack’s going to die, she’ll probably want to know.”
Die? I’m not going to die! Am I? What the hell? He heard a furious shuffling of boots and the doc’s voice shooing people out of the room. Then, a few seconds later—
“Jack, I’m going to lift your head just enough for you to take a drink of this.”
He tried to ask what it was, but the words wouldn’t come. He felt the doc put a steady hand behind his neck then gently raise him up. He still didn’t know what he’d been asked to drink, but he knew it wasn’t brandy. In fact it was about the foulest-tasting stuff he’d ever drunk. His head was then carefully placed back onto a pillow.
At least he assumed it was a pillow. That was just before his world began swirling around again and then turned black.
Chapter 21
After three and a half days of driving the rough-riding buckboard, Cotton pulled up in front of the doctor’s office. He helped Delilah down, then asked Jimmy to help him get Thorn inside. Delilah was fidgeting as she tried to grab Thorn’s hand while the two men carried him onto the porch.
“You better knock, Delilah, in case the doc is asleep.”
Just as she raised her hand to knock, the door flew open.
“I thought I told you people…Oh, it’s you, Sheriff. Sorry. Who is this? How many folks am I expected to handle in one night?”
“It’s Thorn McCann, Doc. He’s been shot. A lady patched him up as best she could, but he ain’t lookin’ too good.”
“Okay. Bring him inside. Uh, put him on the floor over there. Roll up this blanket for under his head. I’ll look after him shortly.”
“Wouldn’t it be better if we took him into your back office?” Cotton said with an angry look in his eyes.
“It would be better, but there isn’t room. Got another patient in there and he needs my help more’n this one.”
“Who is it?”
“It’s your deputy, that’s who. Got busted up pretty good. Someone musta taken a rifle butt to his head. I was just about to stitch him up when you come stomping up on the porch.”
“Who did it?”
“Don’t know, and he isn’t up to talking about it yet.”
“Can I go in and see him?”
“Had to give him some laudanum. He’s not going to even know you’re in the room.”
“I’ll leave Delilah Jones here to help you with Thorn. I better see what I can find out about Jack’s attacker. Where’d it take place?”
“Front of the hotel, near’s I can figure. Leastways, that’s where I found him bleeding all over the place.”
Cotton bolted from the doctor’s office and headed straight for the hotel. There were several people standing around outside. As he approached them, one spoke up.
“Jack gonna be okay, Sheriff?”
“I don’t know yet. Any of you see what happened?”
“Joe, here, came upon him lyin’ on the porch bleedin’ somethin’ fierce. That’s all we know. Didn’t see no one hangin’ around. Got no idea who done it.”
Cotton looked perplexed about the whole matter. He glanced up and down the street, seeing nothing unusual. Then it occurred to him he’d better check on Emily. Even if she was all right and knew nothing about Jack, she’d be anxious to take Henry Coyote back to her ranch as soon as possible. He walked back to the doctor’s office, took the reins of the horses, and led them back to his place. As he tied them to the rail outside, he saw the curtains part and Emily peering out. He waved, but the curtain was drawn shut in an instant. The door flew open and Emily ran to him, crying.