Cotton's Devil (9781101618523)

by Dunlap, Phil

Cotton kicked at a clod of dirt lying in the road on his way to Doc Winters’s office, exploding it into a thousand pieces. His mind was still miles away when he reached the door and knocked. He was surprised when Delilah opened it. He removed his hat and gave her a questioning smile.

  “Good day, Sheriff,” she said. “I’ll bet you’ve come to look in on Thorn. I’m happy to report that he’s coming along nicely, thanks to the doctor. And you, of course. Won’t you come in?”

  “I’m glad to hear Thorn’s on the mend. He up to talkin’ some?”

  “Reckon he’ll talk to you.” She waved him into the reception area and pointed to the back room, just beyond a curtained doorway.

  He walked up to the makeshift bed the doctor had constructed. Thorn was trying to lean on one arm, but was obviously struggling to keep his balance.

  “Howdy, Sheriff. Glad you come through that little dustup with those Indians all in one piece.”

  “Yeah, but the Hardins weren’t so lucky. Any idea where those two drunken renegades came from?”

  “Nah. Pretty raggedy pair. Probably been kicked out of the tribe or somethin’.”

  “Well, we need to talk over some recent happenin’s. You ever heard of a loudmouth goes by the name of James Lee Hogg?”

  “I ran into him a couple times, if he’s the same Hogg as I’m thinkin’ on.”

  “Got a nasty limp.”

  “Yeah, that’s him. Heard some lawman shot his big toe off. Had to laugh the first time I heard it. Who you suppose’d do such a thing?”

  “Me. Now, let’s get down to business. Hogg’s in town, or he was. Came and went under troublesome circumstances. Someone busted him out of jail by cracking my deputy over the head. And I have reason to believe—if Hogg’s words are worth a tinker’s damn—that Arthur Sanborn is lookin’ to finally make me pay for Billy.”

  “What for? He can’t be thinkin’ to take you down himself. Why, that scrawny old fart likely couldn’t even lift a revolver bigger’n a thirty-two.”

  “Since you know him, what’s your thinkin’ on the matter?”

  “Could be that Hogg was hired to finish what I didn’t. Sanborn’s a strange one, and I doubt he’d give up the hunt just because of my failure to bring you back to Texas.”

  “I figured as much. So you’re sayin’ he’s hired Hogg for…what? Thinkin’ he’ll try for a shoot-out?”

  “Be a damned fool if he did,” Thorn said.

  “Something else, then? Jack said Hogg was spoutin’ off about Judge Sanborn arrivin’ in Apache Springs soon. You know anythin’ about that?”

  “News to me. But anything that old coot might come up with wouldn’t surprise me.”

  “If he is on his way, you reckon he would personally push me and Hogg into a smoke wagon meetin’? Just so he could watch it come down?”

  “Wouldn’t be the first time. At least that’s the way I heard it.”

  “Oh? What was it you heard?” Cotton asked.

  “They say that before you took justice into your own hands and blew that no-good straight to hell, Lucky Bill Sanborn left a trail of destruction everywhere he went. A real hellion, so they say.”

  “And Sanborn was the one to clean up all the messes?”

  “Yep. And he seemed to get the job done by makin’ certain his son was the last one standin’.”

  “How’d he go about that?” Cotton asked with a squint.

  “He’d first make sure the whole town knew that there was a disagreement between Lucky Bill and some other feller. He’d start rumors that Bill was being taunted and had no choice but to defend himself. The other feller always ended up facedown in the dirt.”

  “Bill wasn’t that fast. How would Sanborn know his son would win?”

  “Never figured on takin’ any chances.”

  “You mean—”

  “That’s right. Hired his own personal sharpshooter,” Thorn said.

  “Know who that was?”

  “No one ever saw him. Shot came out of nowhere. Wasn’t James Lee Hogg, though. James Lee hadn’t made the judge’s acquaintance that early on in Lucky Bill’s career of destruction. I do know that whoever he was, he was one helluva shot. Rifleman, likely.”

  Cotton rubbed his chin. He’d never regretted shooting Lucky Bill Sanborn, but he was getting concerned now about what effect his having done so might have on Emily, his friends, and the town of Apache Springs. If the rumor was true, and the old man was on the road to retribution, things could get pretty hot for everyone. Considering James Lee Hogg’s willingness to shoot at Emily, it was obviously time to make some serious plans to ensure her safety.

  * * *

  “How is Thorn doing, Cotton?” Emily asked.

  “He’ll be good as new in a couple more days. Doc said that Mrs. Hardin saved his life. I feel bad I wasn’t still there when those Indians came. Two damned fine people are now dead because of it.”

  “There was no way you could have known. Quit blaming yourself. If those renegades hadn’t come by when they did, they’d probably have been there two days later, or four days, or who knows when. If they were bent on getting liquored up, that’s all that was on their minds.”

  “Maybe. But right now, I’ve got another worry.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “You.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes. Don’t forget, James Lee Hogg took a shot at you. He more’n likely did it because old man Sanborn had paid him to kill anyone who was unlucky enough to be close to me. That’s the kind of thing Sanborn would do.”

  “How can anyone be that evil?”

  “Like father, like son. Lucky Bill Sanborn was the most unscrupulous boy I’ve ever known. Satan himself. And his father made him that way.”

  “And you figure he’s coming here for his revenge, since he failed before?”

  “That’s right. While I’m his main target, if he can make anyone I love suffer, it makes his revenge even sweeter. That’s the kind of man he is.”

  “What do you propose to do?”

  “I’m still cogitatin’ on it.”

  “Don’t cogitate too long. We don’t know when he’ll be here. Could be tomorrow.”

  Chapter 29

  In Socorro, James Lee leaned on a post while Lazarus sat on the boardwalk, hat pulled down, snoring away. The stage was due any minute, and James Lee wanted to be sure to be there when Arthur Sanborn arrived. He jumped at the sound of a whip commanding the six-horse team to do the driver’s bidding. A block down, the stagecoach rounded a corner and came to a shuddering, skidding stop. The driver jumped down and hastened to the door to open it for his passengers. James Lee nudged Lazarus as soon as he saw a frail old man step gingerly off the step of the coach.

  “That’s him. That’s the old geezer that’s goin’ to make me some real money,” Hogg said.

  “I know.”

  “Oh, that’s right. You already met the old highbinder.”

  “More than just met him.”

  “You’ve known him for a long time?”

  “Done considerable business with him, several times.”

  “Doin’ what?”

  “What I do best,” Lazarus said, patting his Sharps rifle.

  James Lee stared at him for a minute trying to decide whether what he’d just heard was true or more of Lazarus’s bull. He was getting more than a little ruffled by the man’s continual evasiveness at almost every question he’d asked. But the promise of a lot of money seemed to calm his temperamental tendencies.

  James Lee grabbed Lazarus by the sleeve and pulled him up. They started walking fast down the street to meet Sanborn. Halfway down, when it was obvious the old man had recognized them, he turned abruptly and quickly entered the nearest saloon. James Lee followed Sanborn inside. Lazarus remained outside to watch for…hell, he didn’t know what, but it seemed a good idea at the time, especially since Sanborn had always been touchy about them being seen together. Without a word, Lazarus held back and seated himself on a bench
near the front doors.

  I know Sanborn don’t want to be seen with us, but I’m supposed to be riding in on the stage with him. Just don’t make sense, thought Hogg.

  As soon as his eyes grew accustomed to the dark and smoky room, James Lee spotted Sanborn leaning on the bar. He walked over cautiously, not knowing what to expect.

  “Mr. Hogg, I see your companion remained outside.”

  “Uh, yessir, but I don’t completely understand why.”

  “You will understand, and soon, Mr. Hogg. I have instructed Mr. Bellwood that he is to ride into Apache Springs alone and not acknowledge either of us for the time we’re there.”

  “Yessir. But—”

  “No buts, Mr. Hogg.”

  “Uh, yessir.”

  “Good. Lazarus Bellwood and I are not to be seen together, either here or at our destination. I expect you to do my bidding to the strictest terms. I’ll not expect to spell it all out, again and again. I need you to use your brains at all times. Clear?”

  “Absolutely, Judge. Oh, before we leave, I almost forgot to mention a fact of which I figure you’ll be wantin’ to know.”

  “And just what is that, Mr. Hogg?”

  “When I was in town, I happened to overhear some fellers in the saloon talkin’ about a man that had been wounded in some squabble with Indians.”

  “Why should I care about that?”

  “Well, sir, the man’s name is Thorn McCann.”

  “McCann?”

  “Yep. Ain’t that the man you sent after the sheriff before me?”

  “It was. This doesn’t bode well for our plan. If that damned McCann sees me, he’ll likely figure out what my plans are and how I intend to pull off the seemingly impossible.”

  “That’s what I figured. Did I do right in tellin’ you?”

  “You certainly did, Mr. Hogg, you certainly did.” Sanborn frowned and began rubbing his stubbly chin. “It may cause me to make a minor change in plans.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “If McCann is still in Apache Springs, then it means he’s probably thrown in with that damned sheriff. That may be why he didn’t return. We’ll have to deal with him, too.”

  “Ahh, yes, I see what you mean. What do you figure to do?”

  “Go ahead and send Lazarus into town ahead of us. You and me, we’ll stay another night here in Socorro to make sure he’s got a good head start.”

  “What’ll I tell him?”

  “Give him a description of McCann and tell him to keep an eye on him.”

  “What’s he supposed to be on the lookout for?”

  “I want to know if he’s chummy with Burke. If so, he’ll have to be dealt with harshly, if you get my meaning.”

  “Oh, yessir, I think I do at that.”

  “You haven’t told me what you observed when you went to Apache Springs.”

  James Lee Hogg suddenly grew glum, fidgeting around like a nervous rabbit in a trap. He started to hem and haw, but it was now clear that Sanborn had caught on that things had gone astray. Hogg cleared his throat.

  “Well, you see, when I got there, I found out that the sheriff had a lady friend. And since you told me to eliminate anyone close to Burke, just like what he’d done to you, well I figured to shoot her. As it happened, an old Indian jumped in front of her just as I let loose with my thirty-eight. He’s the one that caught the bullet.”

  “You kill him?”

  “No.”

  “And the woman?”

  “She’s, uh, doin’—”

  “Never mind. I got it figured out.”

  “But since I failed the first time, I just naturally figured you’d want me to get the job done, so, I went after her in the sheriff’s house in town.”

  “Good. Good. You got her that time, I presume.”

  “Uh, n-no, things didn’t go well that time, either.”

  “What! You had two chances to shoot down a woman and you messed it up both times?”

  Sanborn sighed and threw up his hands. “What the hell happened?”

  “That damned deputy sheriff come in just as I was about to pull the trigger. He arrested me and hauled me down to the jail. Lazarus had to club him later that night so he could get into the jail without bein’ seen. He set me free.”

  “Do you have any idea how important it is to me to see that sheriff dead? I can’t abide any more bungling. Do you understand?”

  “Yessir. Won’t happen again.”

  “Damned right it won’t. Because if it does, and I’m cheated once more out of the justice I seek, you’ll be the one lying in the street.”

  “I-I understand, sir, er, Judge.”

  “You damned well better.”

  Hogg stared at him with a worried look.

  “Is there something else I should know, Mr. Hogg?”

  “I was just thinkin’ about what the sheriff might do when I arrive back in town. Won’t the sheriff be lookin’ to put me back in jail?”

  Sanborn fished around in the pocket of his coat and pulled out a shiny piece of tin. “I think we can get around that problem if you pin this on. Just let me do the talking.”

  Hogg stared at the badge for a moment before breaking into a wide grin. “Yessir, that should do the trick.”

  “All right, now you go tell Lazarus to get himself back on his horse and scoot. After all your slipups, you can bed down at the livery. I’m going to get a room at the hotel. We’ll meet at the stage depot early in the morning.”

  Sanborn had a scowl on his face as he spun around and headed off to the hotel. James Lee knew that what he’d had to tell the old man didn’t sit well, but he figured it was better coming from him than someone else. Sweat was dripping from his brow as he went to tell Lazarus of Sanborn’s orders. And to show off his new badge, too.

  Chapter 30

  Early in the morning, two days later, Lazarus Bellwood rode into Apache Springs, being careful not to attract undue attention, twenty-four hours ahead of the Butterfield stage from Socorro. He arrived to a town awakening. James Lee had briefed him of the old judge’s plans, and he’d been pondering just what he could do to help things along. After all, James Lee had fouled things up, twice, so Lazarus figured he’d take a shot at an idea that had come to him in the middle of the night while he rocked back and forth in his saddle just trying to stay awake. His idea was not to make the sheriff angrier, but to put a scare into him, make him fear for his very life. He wanted the sheriff to be looking into every dark corner every time he stepped outside. His plan involved something less drastic than shooting a woman. James Lee Hogg is a fool. I’ll not make the same dumb mistakes. Before I’m through, Cotton Burke will be shooting at shadows.

  Since he hadn’t eaten for a whole day, the first thing he did was to order breakfast at a small diner near the livery. From a seat near the one and only window, he could see the comings and goings of half the town’s inhabitants. For instance, he saw Emily emerge from the sheriff’s house, the location of which he’d learned from the hotel desk clerk. He watched her climb onto the seat of her buckboard and drive away, heading straight out of town. Must be the sheriff’s lady, Lazarus thought. Perfect. I’ll just follow and see where she goes. He hurried to gobble up his eggs and beans, shoved a biscuit into his mouth, and dropped some coins on the table before rushing out the door.

  Lazarus pulled the reins loose from the hitching rail and climbed into the saddle. It was a calm day, and he could still see the trail of dust left by Emily’s wagon. He’d stay a decent distance behind so he wasn’t spotted. Considering the heat, he was just as happy his roan mare wasn’t exhibiting any need to increase her gait anyway. He leaned over and patted the horse on the neck. Lazarus stayed well out of sight as Emily Wagner drove her two-horse team toward her ranch. Lazarus steered his roan into a copse of cottonwoods at the bottom of a lane when the ranch house came into view and it was obvious that’s where the comely lady was headed. He sat with his hands stacked on the pommel, well back in the shadows as he watc
hed her climb down and go inside. He took off his floppy hat and scratched his head. His loosely formed plan could use some more thought, but time was of the essence. He wanted to put his idea in play before the Judge and James Lee Hogg arrived back in town the next day.

  The last time he’d been in Apache Springs, no one had caught even a glimpse of his shadowy movements as he stalked the town’s deputy sheriff to the hotel, then clubbed him into unconsciousness with the butt of his Sharps rifle, in order to free Hogg from jail. That had been his plan, too, carefully considered and executed. No evidence left behind, no one the wiser as to his clandestine presence. He was not only one of the best rifle shots west of the Mississippi River, but also a cold and calculating killer. And, notably, one without any record of his despicable deeds to follow him around as so many gunmen’s did. Buoyed by a sudden flash of confidence, Lazarus clucked his tongue. The roan stepped forward, out of the shadowy overhang of the leafy canopy, her hooves clicking a rhythm on the rocky path to the ranch house.

  Emily spotted the lone rider as he came up the path to the porch. She called out to one of the cowboys, Teddy Olander, to come quickly and be armed. She stepped through the door, the scattergun from over the fireplace gripped firmly in her hands. This time, she thought, I’ll not hesitate to pull the trigger if it looks like this fellow is as unsavory as he appears.

  Lazarus reined the horse in front of the porch steps and leaned on the pommel, making certain to keep his hands well away from his rifle, so as not to signal a threat. He carried no sidearm.

  “Howdy, ma’am. I was passin’ by and wondered if you could spare a traveler a spot of water. Mighty hot out here, today,” Lazarus said, tipping his dusty hat.

  Emily pointed to a well off to the side of the house. “Well’s over there. You’re welcome to a drink for yourself and your horse, and then move on.” She kept the shotgun pointed in his direction.

  “Obliged, ma’am,” Lazarus said as he dismounted and led the horse to the well. Beside the round stone well there stood a wooden trough filled with water and a slight scum of green algae around the edge. Lazarus swished the algae aside so the horse could drink. He then pulled up the bucket from the well and dipped a long-handled tin cup into it. He drank deeply. He hadn’t really realized just how thirsty he had been until that cool water touched his lips. “Mighty kind of you.”