by Dunlap, Phil
“Something else I can do for you?” Emily asked, taking notice of Lazarus’s lack of enthusiasm for leaving. Lazarus looked over at Teddy standing by the porch, his rifle in his hand, hat pulled low, and looking more than a bit uneasy with the man’s presence.
“Uh, oh, no, ma’am.” He hesitated. “Well, maybe one thing. In addition to needin’ a drink, I also dropped by to show you a little bit of what I do best. Never know when you might need a man with my expertise. If that’d be all right.”
“Your expertise?”
“Yep. I’m a champion rifle shot. Won all sorts of prizes from here to Kansas City and beyond. Hell, that’s how I got my horse and my saddle. Of course, my pride and joy is the Sharps rifle that’s restin’ in the saddle scabbard. Won that in Fort Worth. Turkey shoot.”
“I don’t reckon I’ll be needing any demonstrations today. Thank you, anyway.” Emily had taken a few steps backward to let him know she was through talking, when Lazarus made his final plea.
“Only take a moment of your time. Besides, I figure you’ll be wantin’ to pass on what you’ve seen to the sheriff.”
“Just what do you mean?” Her eyes narrowed at the man’s barely concealed message.
“As I rode in, I set an unopened can of peaches on the gatepost at the end of your lane. I propose to take one shot. You’ll surely get the point of my little demonstration.” Without waiting for a response from her, Lazarus slipped the Sharps from the scabbard and brought it cleanly to his cheek. He flipped up the adjustable Creedmore sight mounted on the tang, made one slight change, cocked the rifle, and slowly squeezed the trigger. The gun bucked as it roared to life in a smoky cloud. Almost a hundred yards away, the can of peaches exploded in a spray of juice, peach parts, and tin shrapnel, spreading the contents for twenty feet. He was all grins as he replaced the rifle in its scabbard.
“All right, I’ll grant you that you’ve just made a formidable shot. But I fail to see your objective in doing so.” Emily’s trigger finger was twitching.
“Just thought you’d want to let that lawman friend of yours know that not every bullet comes from ten feet away. He should keep his eyes peeled. A careful sheriff is a live sheriff,” Lazarus said, as he gave her a wry grin, swung into his saddle, and spurred the roan to a run toward the gate.
Emily was frowning as she turned to Teddy. He appeared as puzzled as she was.
“What the devil did we just witness?” she said.
“Damned if I know, er, pardon my language, ma’am.”
“One thing’s for sure, you better ride to town and tell Sheriff Cotton about our visitor,” Emily said, “Oh, and if you see Henry, fill him in, too.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Teddy said, as he trotted off to the corral to saddle a horse.
Cotton looked pleased as Delilah and Thorn McCann came strolling into the jail, arm in arm and all smiles. The sheriff leaned back in his chair, interlacing his fingers behind his head.
“Good to see you up and around, McCann.”
“Thanks to you, I’m still able to walk about with this beautiful lady.”
Delilah blushed and tried to avoid direct eye contact with Cotton.
“If you hadn’t come along when you did, I fear we’d all be coyote bait,” Thorn said.
“Luck of the draw, McCann, luck of the draw.”
“Well, I like your kind of luck. But I am somewhat confused by what the hell you were doing out there in the first place.”
“Didn’t you send a telegram to me askin’ me to come save your worthless hide from a rope necktie?”
“Reckon I did, at that.”
“Then, when I got there, you were gone. Escaped with the help of some unknown individual, likely that same beautiful lady clingin’ to your arm. Am I guessin’ right?”
“Depends. She gonna face charges if she did happen to come for a visit at just the right time?”
“Nope. Marshal in Silver City said he’s just as happy to have you gone. Wasn’t all that certain how he was goin’ to prove you knew it was counterfeit money you were spreadin’ all around, and he didn’t favor a vigilante hangin’.”
“Yeah, well, I think I can explain. As I now see it, all that money Bart Havens was flashin’ around turned out to be phony. I didn’t know until I got wind that some folks in Silver City were questioning whether it was good or not. When I mentioned it to Delilah, she was as surprised as I was. Hell, I never saw no fake bills before, well, other than Confederate, that is.”
“That’s when you two decided to break out of their jail?”
“That’s right. See, it was all just an innocent mistake,” Thorn said with a shrug.
“I will say the Apache Springs banks’ depositors were right pleased that you brought their money back safe and sound. Nobody hereabouts got stung too bad. However, by what you’ve just told me, you’ve pretty much convicted yourself by admitting you knew it was fake when you broke out of the Silver City jail instead of hangin’ around and tryin’ to make things right to a judge. Did I miss anything?”
“It’s like you said, some of them folks was bein’ a bit unreasonable about things. Seemed the best option to skedaddle.”
Cotton just grunted.
Chapter 31
Teddy Olander spurred his horse to a dead run. Dust swirled behind him as he left the dusty road to cut across country and save time in his rush to get the message out to Sheriff Burke that there had been some strange doin’s at the Wagner ranch. Teddy had been raised not far from Apache Springs, and he knew the country like the back of his hand. He was a good horseman and an eager worker, both virtues in Emily Wagner’s sight. When he splashed across the last of the many small creeks that wandered down from the hills and nearby mountains, pulling up just at the edge of town, he smiled to himself. He pulled out his pocket watch and grinned big. One half hour better than the time it would have taken had he stayed on the trail.
Teddy reined in at the hitching rail in front of the jail, jumped to the ground, and rushed inside. Fortunately, the sheriff was at his desk and Henry Coyote was lying on a bunk in one of the cells. Teddy’s eyes grew wide at the sight.
“Sheriff, h-how’s come Henry’s in jail? He didn’t do nothin’, did he? Why, I’ve never knowed…”
“Calm down, Teddy. Henry is taking his leisure in there because he wants to, not because of anything he’s done.”
Teddy took off his hat and wiped the sweat from his brow. “Whew. That’s a relief. Miz Wagner wouldn’t like it none if Henry was in some sort of trouble.”
“Well, he’s not, so you can stop frettin’. Now, what’re you doin’ in town?”
“Miz Wagner has had an unsettlin’ experience out at the ranch. Wanted me to hurry in and tell you about it.”
Cotton stared at the boy, not saying a word. He waited a full minute. Then he waited some more. He sighed.
“Teddy, I swear I could die of old age before you spit out what it was that brought you here. Get on with it.”
“Oh, yeah, sorry. Well, there was this feller come ridin’ in pretty as you please, got down off his horse—without no invitation mind you—and asked Miz Wagner for some water for him and his mount.”
“Yeah?”
“Miz Wagner, bein’ the generous soul she is, said he could have all he wanted at the well. The man led his horse around to the well and proceeded to let the horse drink from the trough. He ladled himself a cup or two, spillin’ half of it down his shirt and…”
“Teddy! How about we get to the good part? The unsettlin’ part you mentioned.”
“Uh, sorry to be so long-winded, but I just don’t want to leave nothin’ important out.”
“I understand. Go on. But be kinda quick about it, if you could.”
“Yessir. Well, this feller said he wanted to show her somethin’ she would find interestin’. She didn’t act like she wanted to be bothered, but he proceeded to pull a Sharps rifle from his saddle scabbard, cocked it, and aimed down the sights. Said he’d placed a can of pea
ches on the fence post at the gate as he rode in. He pulled that trigger and let fly. And whooee! That can of peaches exploded like it had dynamite in it. I checked the can when he left. Hit the darned thing dead center.”
“He did this from where?”
“Just about fifteen feet from the well, towards the house.”
“What was his point? Why’d he think she’d be interested? Was he lookin’ for a job?”
“Nope to all of that. Said he thought she’d want to tell you that you should keep an eye peeled ’cause you never know where the next bullet might be comin’ from. Said you’d understand.”
“He mention his name?”
“Don’t rightly recall that he did. But he was a rangy feller carryin’ a Sharps that looked like he mighta slept with it. Shiny frame, polished stock, and one of them Creedmore rear sights that mounts back of the hammer on the stock.”
Cotton fell silent. He rubbed his chin for a moment before speaking.
“You hear any of that, Henry?”
“Hear all.”
“The description suggest anyone you know?”
“Not know of such a man.”
“Teddy, I appreciate what you’ve told me. We’ll keep a lookout for such a man. Now, you better skedaddle back to the ranch. Tell Miz Emily I’ll be on the alert, and she can stop worryin’.”
“Yessir. Uh, you don’t suppose it would hurt to stop for just a tiny sip of whiskey, would it?”
Cotton almost laughed out loud but kept his composure.
“No, Teddy, I don’t think it would hurt a thing.”
After Teddy scampered off, Henry rose and came into the office. “You want me to keep watch for man with fancy rifle?”
“Yes, I do. He doesn’t seem like a man to take lightly. And if you run across Jack, tell him, too.”
Henry picked up his Spencer rifle and slipped out the door as silently as a wolf tracking its prey.
Jack sat on the edge of Melody’s bed, sloshing brandy around in a glass. He stared at it so intently that Melody was sufficiently incensed to inquire what could possibly be so important as to take his mind off her charms. She raised herself up on one elbow, reached over, and stabbed him playfully in the ribs with a long-nailed finger.
“Jack! Look at me! Don’t you like what you see? Am I getting old and haggard?”
“Huh?” Jack suddenly realized he was being addressed. He came out of his fog trying to reconstruct whatever it was that Melody had been muttering. “I…”
“Don’t toy with me, Jack. Do you think I’m pretty or not?”
“Not pretty, Melody, beautiful. And you always will be…to me.”
“Well said, sweetie, but I’m concerned about you.”
“Why?”
“You’ve been distant, lately, off in another place.” She sat up suddenly. “You’re not thinking of another woman, are you?”
“Of course not. My head still hurts a mite, that’s all.”
“If I find out you’re lying to me, I’ll shoot your…”
“Melody! Stop it! There’s no other woman, and I’ve had enough of your jealous tantrums. I’m concerned about Cotton, that’s all.”
“Cotton! Always Cotton! Damn! Sometimes I think you’d rather be with him than me.” She swung her legs off the bed, got up, and slipped into a pink robe with feathers all down the front. She stood in front of the full-length mirror she’d had sent from Chicago, twisting and turning, checking to make sure Jack wasn’t lying about her losing her looks.
“Now, Melody, don’t go gettin’ all huffy on me. Cotton’s my boss and whatever happens to him affects me, too. Don’t you see that?”
“Uh-huh. But whatever happens to that rattler don’t mean a hill of beans to me. When we’re together, I expect your full attention. You got that?” Melody stormed out without waiting for an answer, slamming the door behind her.
Jack muttered one under his breath anyway.
“One of these days, my dear, you’re goin’ to push me too far.”
In a foul mood when he left the saloon, Memphis Jack had no more than stepped out the swinging doors than he came face-to-face with Henry Coyote. He stopped and started to say howdy, but Henry cut him off.
“Have message from sheriff. Come sit, we talk.”
“Where is he? Has something happened?”
“He concerned about Miz Emily. He get bad news.”
“Bad news? What—”
“I talk. You listen.”
Chapter 32
The next morning, Cotton was cleaning his coffee cup in a bucket of water when someone burst into the jail. He finished wiping the cup dry, then poured some fresh coffee. He didn’t bother to look around. He could tell by the way the door slammed it was Memphis Jack.
“Cotton, got some news, and it ain’t good.”
“Yeah? Well, I already got some of my own.”
“Henry already told me all about the sharpshooter,” Jack said. “But that ain’t all.”
“There’s more bad news?” Cotton said, with a questioning squint.
“The stage from Socorro just got in. Couple of fellers got off that’re bound to spell trouble.”
“How do you know that?”
“One was a scrawny old, balding man, bent over and lookin’ disheveled. Had a glint in his eye that sent a chill up my spine, I’ll tell you.”
“A chill, and that spells trouble?” Cotton raised one eyebrow.
“Indeed it does.”
“And the other one?”
“James Lee Hogg.”
“What! Are you certain?”
“Sure as water runs downhill, I’m that dead-on certain. Don’t forget, I’m the one who put him in jail for rousting Emily. My eyesight ain’t givin’ out on me,” Jack said.
“Where’d they go?”
“Straight for the mayor’s office. I ’spect that’s where they are right this moment.”
“Tell me more about the old man. What’d he look like? How old? Fat, tall, short? Were his clothes store-bought or handmade? How’d he walk?”
“Hold on, Cotton, one question at a time.”
“Sorry.”
“For starters, he was, like I said, kinda bent over. He used a cane with a silver handle. He had white hair, or what was left of it. And he was frail, I’d say, bony and frail. But that look on his face, I’ll tell you—”
“I know, chilling. What color was his suit? Or was he wearing a duster?”
“How’d you know about the duster?”
“Just a guess. Pretty dusty ridin’ the stage, and some men don’t want to get their clothes trail dirty. Especially if they think they’re real important.”
“Yeah, well he did have on a duster.”
Cotton set his cup on the desk and walked to the door. He gazed at the town hall, where the mayor had his office. He leaned back against the doorframe and watched. Didn’t say anything, just watched. Jack frowned as he squeezed by Cotton and went outside to sit on the bench. They both remained there keeping a vigil on the door to the town hall. After about twenty minutes, the mayor and two other men emerged, one old and stooped, the other the man who’d escaped jail after someone had cracked Jack’s skull with the butt of a rifle. The identity of that someone remained a mystery.
“I say we go down there and arrest Hogg for breaking out of jail,” Jack said. He spoke through gritted teeth. He looked up to see Cotton chewing his lip. “What do you think, Sheriff?”
“I think you’re right about that trouble you spoke about.”
“If I am right, it looks like it’s comin’ sooner rather than later. They’re headed this way.”
Mayor Orwell Plume led the way, with the old man following a step or two behind. The third man, James Lee Hogg, broke off and headed for the saloon. Jack kept his eyes on Hogg, then got up.
“Think I’ll wander over to Melody’s place and keep watch over things,” Jack said, not waiting for permission. Cotton just grunted his permission as his deputy stepped off the boardwalk.
When the mayor got close enough for him to hear, Cotton spoke up.
“Looks like you got company, Orwell.”
“Indeed, Sheriff. I’d like you to meet the new circuit judge for the district. He tells me that Territorial Governor Lew Wallace himself has appointed him to set up his court right here. It sounds like it’ll be a good thing for the town. Should bring in lots of folks from all around to see the court in action. It also means not havin’ to travel all the way down to Silver City for trials. Well, anyway, this here is Judge Arthur Sanborn, recently from—”
“Texas!” Cotton said, barely able to control his anger.
“How’d you know that, Cotton?”
“We’ve met.”
“Ah, well, I wanted you to be the first to know that Judge Sanborn will be starting his trials very soon. He hasn’t set a date yet for the first one.” Plume turned to Sanborn, who looked as if he had bitten down on something very sour. His gaunt, wrinkled face was ashen gray. “Uh, exactly what will be your first case, Judge?”
“It’ll be one that’s bound to shake the community up quite nicely, Mayor. I’ll give you the particulars in a day or two.” Sanborn slowly turned and shuffled away, headed for the hotel.
“Oh, one thing, Judge, who was that man with you?” Cotton’s voice was unmistakably bitter.
“Oh, that’s Deputy U.S. Marshal James Lee Hogg. I believe you’ve already met. A judge needs someone to enforce his rulings, you know.” Sanborn was chuckling as he stepped away and went on down the street alone.
“Is there something I should know, Sheriff, about the judge and all?” Plume asked. “You seem, er, upset.”
“I figure you’ll find out soon enough, Mayor. Soon enough.” Cotton spun on his heel and went inside. He slammed the door behind him just in case the mayor took a notion to follow him.
Shaken by the experience of seeing his enemy face-to-face, Cotton sat morosely at his desk. He’d drawn his Colt and was cocking and uncocking it over and over. He was faced with a dilemma and he knew it. How could that crooked, evil old man have gotten an appointment to the bench? Is it even legitimate or just another of that wily old fool’s tricks? He was boiling inside when he heard a light knock at the door. At first he ignored it, but after the second tap, tap, tap, he hollered, “Come in! The damned thing ain’t locked!”