Torture Town

by William W. Johnstone

  “I’m sure we’ll find something,” Sylvia said.

  Tome

  Of all the little settlements in Valencia County, Tome was the most Mexican in character. Bodine, Strawn, and Shardeen were in the Vaquero Cantina. At the moment, they were the only ones in the entire cantina who were speaking English.

  “I think we’ve just about got everything in place,” Bodine said. “Once we take care of this little job tonight, it’s going to bring it all to a head. I expect we’ll be at an all-out war within a couple of days.”

  “Tell me, how are we going to steal cows from the middle of a battle?” Strawn asked.

  “We ain’t goin’ to be in the middle of the battlefield, ’cause the battle is goin’ to be takin’ place downtown. We’ll be out on the range takin’ cattle.”

  “By the way, Draco, I supposed you’ve heard that Matt Jensen is in town.”

  “Don’t call me that!” Draco said sharply as he stroked the red stubble of what had once been a red beard. “My name is Bodine now. The last thing I need is for that son of a bitch to be breathing down my neck.”

  “You know he’s goin’ to find out who you are,” Shardeen said.

  “Who’s going to tell him? You are the only two who know.”

  “It just seems to me like it’s goin’ to get out,” Shardeen said.

  “If it does, I’ll take care of it then. For now, and until our plan is carried out . . . I’m Bodine. To everyone. Do you understand?”

  “Sure, Bodine, whatever you say,” Strawn said.

  “You want me ’n’ Cates ’n’ Dagan to do the raid tonight,” Shardeen asked.

  “No. Like I said, it’s time to get this spread out beyond the two ranches. I’ve got Dooley in town now, recruiting the men we’ll need for the task tonight.”

  “You think he can get enough people to go along with him?” Strawn asked.

  “Yeah.”

  Sitting at another table, but close enough to overhear the conversation, was Frank Carter, the man with whom Matt had fought several days earlier.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Rex pulled his boots back on. “I’m going to go see your pa,” Rex said. “I’m going to tell him that I want to marry you.”

  “No!” Sylvia said, quickly.

  “No? You mean you don’t want to marry me?”

  “Of course I want to marry you. But now is not the time to ask Pa. There’s too much going on between the two ranches. I know he wouldn’t agree to it, and I don’t even know how safe it would be for you to come on to the ranch like that.”

  “Sylvia, I have found you, I love you, and I don’t plan to let you get away,” Rex said.

  Sylvia took Rex’s hand and lifted it to her lips. “I’m not going anywhere,” she said. “We just need time to work things out, that’s all. Please, don’t just rush in.”

  “All right, if that’s the way you want it. But, Sylvia, don’t keep me waiting too long. Patience is not one of my virtues.”

  “Hello inside!” Linda’s voice called. “Are you still here?”

  “We’re still here, Linda. Come in!” Sylvia called back.

  Tumbling P Ranch

  When Matt rode out to the Tumbling P, he was met by Nate Poindexter, who introduced him to his father, and to Gabe Mathis, the foreman.

  “I would be willing to bet everything I own that none of our men had anything at all to do with killing MacDonald and Butrum,” Gabe told Matt. “But I do know that they were awful upset over the way the BR men drug Jimmy behind a horse like they done. And they wasn’t none too happy about someone from the BR tryin’ to snatch Miss Sylvia, either.”

  “Who is Miss Sylvia, and what do you mean someone tried to snatch her?” Matt asked.

  “Sylvia is my daughter,” Morgan said. “She has been back east with my sister for a while. I picked her up in Los Luna and was bringing her home when three masked men stopped us on the road. They were going to take my daughter and hold her until I paid a ransom to get her back.

  “But someone, I don’t know who, shot one of the three men, and the other two left.”

  “Do you know who they were?” Matt asked. He realized, even as Morgan started to tell the story, that this was the incident he had happened onto, but he decided it would be best not to say anything about his participation in it.

  “Well, like I said, they were all three wearing masks, but when I asked if they were from the BR, one of them said that I wasn’t as dumb as I looked. So, in my mind, that told me that’s where they came from.”

  “Or, perhaps that’s where they wanted you to think they came from,” Matt suggested.

  “The truth is, this feud that’s goin’ on between the Tumblin’ P and the BR has turned just full-time mean,” Gabe said. “And whenever things are full-time mean, there’s just no tellin’ what’s goin’ to happen next.”

  “Deputy Jensen, you can go anywhere on my ranch you need to go, talk to anyone you need to talk to,” Morgan said. “I want to get to the bottom of this as much as you do.”

  “I appreciate that,” Matt said. “Oh, and I wonder if I could have a letter from you to that effect. Some of the men might be a little hesitant to talk to me if they don’t know that you are fully supportive.”

  “I’ll write you the letter,” Morgan said. He chuckled. “Not sure how much good it’ll do you though. About a third of my men can’t even read.”

  As the men were talking, Sylvia came riding up.

  “Hello, darlin’! Did you enjoy your visit with Linda?” Morgan said when he saw his daughter.

  “Yes, very much,” Sylvia replied.

  “Deputy, you asked about Sylvia a few minutes ago. Here she is, my pride and joy,” Morgan said. “Sweetheart, this is Deputy Sheriff Matt Jensen. He’s trying to get to the bottom of all the killing.”

  “I hope he can do more than just get to the bottom of it. I hope he can stop it,” Sylvia said.

  “I’m going to try, Miss Poindexter. I’ll give you my word, I’m going to try.”

  Thirty Four Corners

  “Twenty-five dollars apiece,” Shardeen told the six men who were sitting around a table with him at the Black Bull Saloon.

  “What do we have to do for the twenty-five dollars?” a man named Fillion asked.

  “Help us get revenge for MacDonald and Butrum,” Shardeen replied.

  “How we goin’ to do that?”

  “An eye for an eye,” Shardeen said. “The Tumbling P burned out a cabin where MacDonald and Butrum were staying, then shot them down when they came outside. We’re goin’ to do the same thing.”

  “How will we know who it was that shot MacDonald and Butrum?” Coombs asked.

  “What difference does it make if they are the same people or not?” Shardeen replied.

  “What do you mean what difference does it make?” Coombs asked, surprised by Shardeen’s answer.

  “It’s a war,” Shardeen explained. “When you are at war, you don’t always shoot the same people who shot people on your side. When you are at war, everyone is fair game.”

  “That’s true,” Fillion said. “My pa was in the war. He said he just shot at men that was on the other side, and he didn’t know any of ’em. So I reckon when you are at war, it don’t really matter none.”

  “But we don’t none of us ride for the BR,” Coombs said.

  “You see how this town is laid out, don’t you?” Shardeen asked. “Ever’one on this side of the street is on the side of the BR Ranch. Ever’one on the other side is for the Tumbling P. That’s how wars is. You take sides, ’n’ that’s the side you fight on.”

  “This here is more of a feud than it is a war, ain’t it?”

  “It was a feud, ’til Seth Miller, Ian MacDonald, and Harry Butrum got themselves shot and kilt,” Shardeen said. “Then it became a war.”

  “Yeah,” Fillion said. “Me ’n’ Butrum was good friends, too. And I don’t like Poindexter, or any of those sons of bitches that ride for him, either. You can count
me in.”

  “What about the rest of you?” Shardeen asked.

  “Twenty-five dollars?” one of the other men asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Hell, twenty-five dollars sounds pretty good to me right now. I’d shoot my own brother for twenty-five dollars, iffen I had a brother.”

  The others laughed, then one by one agreed to go with Shardeen on what he was calling a “revenge raid.”

  “Meet me at four o’clock this afternoon, at the Bluewater Creek crossing,” Shardeen said

  “We’ll be there,” Fillion replied.

  Shardeen stood up, then handed out a five-dollar bill to each man. “You’ll get twenty more dollars tonight, after the deed is done,” he said.

  “Damn! I’m goin’ to pay me a visit to Diamond Dina,” Fillion said with a big smile as he scooped up the bill.

  The sun was setting.

  “I’m comin’ with you,” Stoddard said.

  “You can come with me, but you have to get your own woman,” Fillion said.

  “Of course I’m goin’ to get my own woman. What the hell, do think I was just comin’ along to watch?”

  “I’ll let you watch for a dollar,” Fillion teased, and the others laughed.

  Tumbling P Ranch

  Having been given absolute freedom to go anywhere and talk to anyone on the Tumbling P, Matt had spent the entire afternoon exploring the ranch and discovering for himself just how large it was. At nightfall he found himself in the most remote line shack on the ranch, and thought this might be a good place to spend the night.

  “Hello the house!” Matt called before he dismounted.

  The door opened and a man looked out. “Who are you?”

  “The name is Matt Jensen.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I’m just looking around the ranch. I’ve got a letter of introduction here, from Morgan Poindexter.”

  “That don’t mean nothin’. I can’t read.”

  “Oh, well, in that case I can read it to you, and make it say anything I want, can’t I?”

  For a second the cowboy looked confused. Then he chuckled. “Yeah, I guess you could at that. I’m just about to cook up some bacon and beans. Climb down and come in. The name is Jesse. Jesse Billings.”

  “Glad to meet you, Jesse.”

  “Damn, Jensen, are you the law?” Jesse asked, noticing for the first time the star on Matt’s vest.

  “Yes, but it isn’t a permanent condition,” Matt said.

  “What do you mean, it ain’t permanent?”

  “I’ve just signed on to help Sheriff Ferrell out for a while. Also, to be honest with you, I’m after someone. I’ve been following a man named Rufus Draco, and it has led me here. I thought that packing a star might help me find him.”

  “What are you looking for him for?”

  “He and a couple of other men murdered a friend of mine. They also raped and murdered my friend’s wife and daughter. Only they didn’t just rape them, they butchered them.” Matt went into some detail about the condition in which they had left the mother and daughter.

  “How come you’re only lookin’ for this feller, Draco? How come you ain’t lookin’ for the other ones?”

  “I found the other ones,” Matt said, cryptically.

  “Damn, I ain’t never heard of Draco, but if I ever do, I’ll be sure to let you know. Someone like that don’t deserve to be runnin’ around free. It’ll be gettin’ dark in another hour or so. You plannin’ to stay the night here?”

  Matt smiled. “Now that you mention it, I was hoping I would get an invitation to do so.”

  “Consider yourself invited. Do you play checkers? It gets kind of lonesome out here, and truth to tell, checkers ain’t all that fun when you play yourself.”

  “You play yourself?”

  “Yeah, and when I play myself . . . I cheat. And damn, I hate playing a cheater.”

  Matt laughed. “I won’t cheat.”

  “I won’t either, seein’ as I only cheat myself. Oh, and you can take your horse around and tie him in the lean-to,” Jesse suggested. “There’s hay and water for him back there.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I’ll start supper.”

  Matt took Spirit around to the lean-to, where he saw another horse. He tied Spirit to the hitching rail, then returned to the cabin. By the time he stepped inside, he could smell the aroma of frying bacon.

  “I made biscuits this mornin’. Still got some left if you don’t mind eatin’ ’em cold,” Jesse said. “I only like to bake once a day ’cause the oven heats up the house too much.”

  “That’ll be fine. There’s nothing better than a cold biscuit and a hot piece of bacon,” Matt said.

  It took but a few minutes to prepare lunch, since the beans came from a can and only had to be heated to eat.

  “So, tell me, Sheriff . . .”

  “I’m the deputy.”

  “Deputy. Other than lookin’ for Rufus Draco, who I ain’t never heard of ’til you mentioned his name a while ago, what else brings you way out here?”

  “I’m sure you heard of the two BR riders who were killed a few days ago.”

  “Yes, and Seth Miller before them.” Jesse was just in the act of lifting a fork of beans to his lips, but he stopped midway. “Wait a minute. Look here, Deputy, you ain’t a-thinkin’ that I done that, are you?”

  Matt shook his head. “No, I have no reason to believe that you did. But I am trying to find out who might have done it.”

  “Well, if you’re thinkin’ any of the men who ride for Mr. Poindexter might have done it, you’re barkin’ up the wrong tree, I can tell you that right now. I know ever’one that rides for the Tumblin’ P, and there ain’t a man of ’em who would do a dirty trick like was done to Butrum and MacDonald.”

  “Did you know Butrum and MacDonald?” Matt asked.

  Jesse was quiet for a long moment before he answered. “You’ve heard about the fight between me ’n’ MacDonald, haven’t you?”

  “No, I haven’t heard anything about a fight. Was there one?”

  Jesse chuckled. “Yes, sir, there was a jim-dandy of a fight betwixt us. And I whupped him, too. Ever’one who seen the fight said that I whupped him.” He looked at Matt. “So, if I whupped him, why would I want to kill him?”

  “No reason at all,” Matt said. “I was just wondering what you thought about the two men?”

  “Truth is, I actually thought they was pretty good men. If we had happened to be ridin’ for the same spread, why then there ain’t no doubt in my mind but that we woulda been pretty good friends. But, bein’ as they rode for the BR, and I ride for the Tumblin’ P, well . . . you know how it is.”

  Unseen by Matt or Jesse, Shardeen and the six men he had recruited were approaching the small line shack.

  “You think there’s anyone here?” Fillion asked.

  “If there ain’t nobody here, we’ll burn the shack anyway,” Shardeen said.

  “They’s somebody here,” Coombs said. “They’s a couple horses out back.”

  “All right, boys, it’s time for you to earn your twenty-five dollars,” Dooly said.

  Inside the shack Matt had just lifted a fork full of beans to his mouth when a fusillade of shots rang out, crashing through the two windows and the door.

  “Get down!” Matt yelled, though his warning wasn’t necessary as Jesse was already on the floor, gun in hand, crawling toward one of the windows. Matt crawled to the other and the two men began returning fire.

  “I ain’t no good with a pistol,” Jesse said. “I gotta get my rifle.” He stood up and started toward his bunk.

  “No, Jesse, keep down!” Matt shouted, but even as he was calling out his warning he saw a mist of blood fly up from Jesse’s chest as he was hit.

  Jesse fell and Matt crawled over to him, and the two men lay on the floor as the bullets continued to come through the windows, the glass totally shot out.

  “Damn! Damn, that was a dumb thing for me t
o do!” Jesse said, his voice strained with pain.

  “How badly are you hit?” Matt asked.

  “Bad enough, I reckon,” Jesse replied. “Seein’ as I’m dyin’.”

  More bullets slammed against the outside wall, but because the walls were made of thick logs, the only ones that got through were the ones that came crashing in through the window.

  “Deputy, would you take my confession?” Jesse asked, exerting himself to talk.

  “Jesse, I’m not a priest. I’m not even Catholic.”

  “That don’t matter. I’m dyin’. All you got to do is listen. It’s important to me, Deputy. I don’t want to go see God without confessin’.”

  “All right,” Matt said. “If all I have to do is listen.”

  Jesse crossed himself, then began speaking, the pain evident in his voice.

  “Father forgive me for I have sinned. It’s been two years since my last confession. I’ve done things, I’ve drunk too much, I’ve laid with whores, and that twenty dollars that Billy Largent lost, and I was helpin’ him look for, well, I found it, only I didn’ tell ’im I found it, and I kept it for myself. So, truth to tell, that means I stole it. Amen.”

  “Amen,” Matt added, though he didn’t know whether or not that was appropriate.

  “Deputy, will you tell Billy that? Tell ’im I’m sorry. An’ tell ’im he can have anythin’ of mine that’s worth twenty . . .” Jesse stopped in midsentence, gasped a couple of times, then quit breathing.

  “I’ll tell him,” Matt said, though he knew that Jesse could no longer hear him.

  “Are you both dead in there? Or are you just out of ammunition?” a voice called from outside.

  Staying low, Matt crawled back over to the window then looked outside. He saw someone rise up to get a look, and Matt fired, then saw the man he shot at fall back.

  “Son of a bitch! They got Finley!” he heard someone yell.

  Matt’s shot had the effect of bringing on another fusillade.