John T. glanced at the spittoon again. "How long you been in this business?"
"Too long, son, too long."
John T. reckoned the friendship started that day.
Early summer of 1878
Chapter Two
"You honestly think we're gonna catch Sam Bass?" John T. chortled as he reined his horse in. He didn't bother hiding his skepticism. They'd been chasing Bass for months and always ended up in just that, a chase—not a catch. "I mean it ain't like the first time we chased him."
They crossed Bushy Creek and stared at the big rock sticking up out of the water. Shaped like an anvil and almost completely round, it stuck up from the water as a marker for crossing the Brushy."As many times as I've been here, I cain't quite get over that silly looking rock stickin' out of the water like that. Only creek I ever seen with a rock that size in it…Why it's almost like God himself laid it there for cattlemen to cross over"
"I guess it is a might strange." John T. nodded. "I mean the way it sits there, in the middle of everything. It is a sight."
Wesley shook his head and then answered John T. "As for Bass, it don't matter what I believe son. Peak and Joes are crackin' down on this hombre. They are getting' mighty fed up with being outfoxed by a kid on a horse. And that's what it all amounts to. Bass gets away every time. Now, granted the kid knows his horseflesh, and his territory, but the big wigs in Austin want him found and captured once and for all. Politically speaking, Bass is an embarrassment that they cain't get over. He's made a laughing stock of the Rangers, and that puts Peak and Jones out a bit, as it should. He's out run us, out hid us, and out smarted us at every turn. It ain't that he's so all fired bad nor smart. It's that he's so danged good at gettin' away. He's like a fox—he steels eggs and always gets away with it. People can tolerate a lot of things but bein' made a fool of is not one of them. That's where Sam made his mistake—that and the fact that he's got a yellow belly turncoat on his hands. He must be quite a trusting fella."
John T. smiled at his partner, indulging him in his viewpoint. Wesley was getting up in years, but he knew his business. "So you don't think this Bass kid is so bad, after all? You tryin' to tell me that an outlaw is a good guy?"
Wesley snarled and frowned, "Now don't you go puttin' words in my mouth. He's a fox and he's best be caught. Nothing riles the Rangers like an outlaw gettin' away. Almost as bad as those Pinkertons swearing that they always get their men. I guess Rangers are pretty bad about braggin' too. And Bass is puttin' them to shame, and the worse of is, he's just a kid. All I’m saying is, his robbin' and stealin' ain't really amounted to much. We ain't after him for all that; we're after him fer makin' a fool out of us. He ain't a murderer. He ain't even a great thief, or a fastest gun. And…he ain't the best shot either. There's others' that done worse. Like Hardin, they ought to worry about him; he's a sight more dangerous. We've wasted more bullets and caught less with Bass's bunch than any other outlaw."
John T. thought about that. Wesley was right, there was one that had done worse, he could certainly agree to that, and no one had caught him yet. Least as far as he knew they hadn't—four years with the Rangers and still no one had even come close—and he still didn't know the man's name, after all these years. He hadn't even mentioned how the Mexicans and Indians had given them such trouble.
"Bass always hangs out in Denton, what are we don' in Round Rock area?" John T. asked as they crossed the timbers. "I mean, this ain't his territory, what makes them think he's down here?"
"Deputy Sheriff Clay Withers and Old Dad Egan been pretty hot on his trail. When they over took Arkansas Johnson near Salt Creek, they arrested Bob Murphy claimin' he's been harboring the gang for some time on his property. Like as not, that's true, too. Nobody liked the fact that they arrested old Bob, 'cause he was mighty respected in those parts. That's when it happened."
"What happened?" John T. stared at his partner.
"Seems his son Jim, couldn't handle his dad bein' in jail over in Tyler. Blood is thicker than water. Even with outlaws." Wesley scratched his chin. "Anyhow, he's settin' Sam up. Yes sir, he's blowin' on his friends."
"You mean one of Sam's own men?" John T. whistled through his teeth. "But the way you talked, I thought this Bass fella was well-liked by most. Everybody I talk to says he's got friends all over Texas."
"He does, but some people you just cain't trust. You better learn that now boy. Yep, looks like. Got Captain Peak and Major Jones all stirred up. Heard tell he's givin' 'em directions on how to nail Bass. Not that I'd put a lot of stock in his word myself. Says they're gonna rob the Williamson County Bank, tomorrow…" Wesley shrugged. "And that is why we're here."
"You don't seem too fired up about it, how come?" John T. studied his friend.
"I don't know," Wesley looked down at the ground and scratched his boot in the dry dirt. "The Rangers have gotten a good reputation for upholding the law. But I don't always hold with how they go after one and forget about another. Hardin's a much tougher outlaw. Look, it's kind of simple. For one thing Bass is a train robber mostly—not that he's made much money at it here in Texas. This ain't his style, holdin' up a bank. Why…he's never done a bank. Never come so far south to do it either. John T. somethin' kinda turns my stomach 'bout a man that would ride with a bunch and then turn 'em over so easy-like. I mean, yeah, they got his daddy and he'll swing a deal with Peak I'm sure. Peak wants this over and done with so the politicians in Austin will hush. Looks bad on their reacords to not have caught an outlaw. But even if Murphy gets away with it, I wouldn't want to be him for nothin' in this world."
"Why…what do ya mean?"
"'Cause Bass has got friends from here to Denton that's why. Most of the farmers and ranchers around here think of him as some kind of hero for holdin' up the railroad the way he done. Not many cotton to the railroads pushin' their way through the land like they did. Buyin' up the land for themselves, kinda pushy like. That's why he's snuck by us so long. Man has that many friends he can't be all bad though, you know what I mean. Just kinda sad to see him done in by one of his own."
"And here I thought you were all Ranger with no heart." John T. jabbed with a smile.
"I've about seen my better days as a Ranger, John T."
"Well I just don't understand this sudden sympathy for an outlaw, nor you sayin' your better days are past. You're a seasoned Ranger, they don't come any better. You been hard as any I know. You've chased Bass a few times yourself. But I never seen you go soft on an outlaw before, or act as though you were through bein' a Ranger either." John T.'s anger festered. Wesley was acting plumb strange."
Wesley looked at him and smirked, "Give you a few more years huntin' the bad guys, and maybe you'll see what I mean. I'd rather be chasin' other outlaws than Sam. Hardin's one of 'em. Men who don't give a damn about life or livin'. Sam's not mean enough to deserve all this attention from the Rangers. That's fact."
John T. sobered, "You're right about that," John T. spit and pushed his hat back. "I've heard a few good tales, actually…" After a long silence John T. asked, "You reckon we'll get him tomorrow?"
Wesley shrugged, "Major Jones is handling this, and all the locals will be on the alert. Everyone knows Bass is supposed to show up. However, we'll get pushed back to the side so Jones can claim the victory. And rightly so, I reckon. Oh we'll be there, we'll shoot, we'll get tangled up in it, but nobody but us and the town of Round Rock will ever remember our names. We're just the little guys here, here to see justice done. Get the job done."
"Man you are sure down…I ain't never seen you like this Wesley…" John T. firmed his mouth and shot a frown at him.
"Aw…don't pay any attention to me, boy, but I got my retirement papers just the other day. I'm officially not a Ranger in three days."
"They retired you? Who did it? Are they crazy, a man like you, with your experience?"
"Looks like, got the paperwork in my saddle bags." Wesley eyed him. "Don't matter who signed the papers, it's done."
"I don't beli
eve it. Texas needs men like you, Wes. You got too much gumption to let go."
"It's for sure and certain boy…"
John T. shook his head, "Why?"
"I'm too old, they said."
"You ain't old, you're experienced." John T. complained. "Why, I've learned more from you than some learn in a lifetime."
"Well don't waste your breath tellin' 'em that."
John T. felt suddenly alone and he didn't like that feeling. He'd been with Wesley so long he couldn't imagine not riding with him. Together they made a good team.
All the excitement about capturing Sam Bass was quickly fading in the wind. Now he understood why Wesley had been so crabby lately. However, it was a huge mistake to let a man like Wesley leave the rangers. Why didn't they see that?
"Have you got a choice, or do you have to go?"
"It's my age more than anything. And truth be known, my eyesight ain't what it used to be. And they know it."
"You got any plans?" John T. asked as they made camp for the night a few miles out of Round Rock.
"Yep…."
John T. waited but it looked as though Wesley wasn't going to tell him anything. "Well…"
"I'm gonna hoop it up a while. Buy myself some beer and hang out at the saloons for a while, like I belong there. Then I plan on seein' my friend Susannah…."
"You didn't tell me you gotta girl?" John T. snickered.
"I ain't. She's just a friend. She was my wife's best friend before she died, and afterwards, I guess she took some pity on me and looked after me. I knowed her ever since she was in pigtails. Gonna visit her and her family, then I'll light out on my own I reckon." Wesley added.
"Where does she live?" John T. asked.
"Up north, place called Blue Goose…up by Sweet Water Creek."
John T. nodded, "I been through there, ain't much to it. Heard they finally got a store for all the buffalo hunters coming through there."
"They did. She lives close to the Creek…"
"Not too far from my home place. What's her last name?"
"Mills, her husband is Rascal Mills." Wesley spit and wiped his mouth with his shirtsleeve, adjusted his hat and looked at John T.
"I've heard of him too, used to be a gunslinger, heard tell a woman tamed him." John T. smiled.
"That's him…they got three kids, or that was the count last time I was there…" he chuckled as he got his gear to fish from his saddlebags. Wesley broke off a hickory limb and started whittling himself a pole to use to fish with.
They caught a couple of catfish in the stream they camped by and cooked them, then bedded down for the night.
After listening to the crickets and frogs, Wesley glanced over at him."Tomorrow all hell's gonna break lose, especially if Sam does show up. So get some rest and quit frettin'." Wesley stirred the fire a little. "It ain't Sam showin' up that worries me…it's all those bullets that will go flyin' by. From all the would be law men from every part of Texas."
John T. stared at his friend. "You're sayin' this isn't gonna be a turkey shoot? Maybe you ought to retire, Wes—you're the one frettin' too much about this Bass fella. But I gotta tell you it disturbes me to lose you. I kinda got used to havin' someone watch my back. I just cain't quite figure you Wes, you know a powerful lot of gunmen to be on this side of the law…"
"Aw…you are too frettin'. You always fret when somethin' is botherin' you. Look…" Wesley threw his cigarette on the rock near the fire and shook his head. "You ever get tired of being a hired gun for the Rangers, you can come hook up with me, kid. But there won't be s paycheck with it. So remember that."
"I saved my money…" John T. smiled at him. "And after you see that gal, I might just come hook up with you."
Wesley nodded, "I figured you might. Get some sleep, you are gonna need it."
John T. propped himself on his saddle. He still had an itch to scratch but he reckoned it would wait a while…
~*~
The next morning eeriness settled over the valley. A quail cooed from off in the brush. The crickets and grasshoppers buzzed. The blue jays fought for territorial rights in the tops of the trees as the wind quit blowing. It was too hot; a silent heat that stoked the brow, as though the weather knew a storm was brewing, a people storm.
Tension rode high. Major Jones ordered Wesley and John T. to hold up just at the outskirts of town. They were to watch and follow if necessary anyone coming in or going out. They had their mounts with them, but kept low so as not to be seen.
Wesley shook his head, "I might have knowed they'd stick us out here in the middle of nowhere. Like we were a couple of green horns."
John T. smiled, "I don't know, appears to me you got some sentiments towards this Bass character, maybe its best we are on the sidelines."
Wesley eyed him up and down, "Why you wet-nosed son-of-a gun, ain't no sentiment at all. Sam's an outlaw and he'll likely meet his match soon enough. But this is not gonna be a turkey shoot and I ain't much into that. Sam's walkin' in to a trap, set up by one of his own. He'll get his comeuppance but it's all a big show for the higher ups. Jones and Peak are worried about how stupid Sam has made us appear, and rightfully so, but Sam Bass is more legend than outlaw son. You'll come to understand that some day. Why folks around here think he's a Robin Hood to Texas."
"Who's Robin Hood…?"
"Don't you ever read?" Wesley fussed. "He's in one of them there books. I heard Susannah readin' it to her kids one time when I visited."
"Susannah, hmmm. That lady friend you were talkin' about?"
"That's right, a very nice lady too….And you speak with respect when you say her name." Wesley nodded. "I'll thank you to remember it too."
"Ain't that I don't read, Wesley, just that I don't have any of those…books. How's a man supposed to carry books on his horse. Hey…you see those three fellas ridin' in just now?" John T. stopped and glanced over the rocks at the three men riding into town.
Wesley spit his tobacco into weeds. "I seen 'em."
"You think…?"
"Maybe…but they ain't lookin' about much. It's like they've been there a few times before. Probably not them. Too out in the open, not curious enough."
"You ever seen Bass close up?" John T. asked as he watched the men tie their horses up in front of the saloon. If that was Bass he was sure takin' it easy.
"Naw…not really. Leastways not that I know of. For all I know I may have looked him in the eye and never knowed it. They got some wanted posters on him, but every one of them is different. Heard tell he's ridden with us a time or two and we didn't even know it. Pretty ordinary young fella. He ain't too tall, nor standoutish, like you with your handsome thick hair and piercing blue eyes." Wesley chuckled. "Not a big fella either, just sorta ordinary. In other words, he don't stand out in a crowd."
"Is Murphy gonna be with 'em?" John T. asked.
"Naw…he's going over to Old Town, to wait till it's over." Wesley sighed. "Cain't say that I blame him, after what he done. I'd hide out too."
"How'd you find out about all this?" John T. smirked, knowing Wesley had ways of finding out about everything.
"Couple of Peak's men let it slip. Murphy got word to Peak, he stopped off in Belton and then again in Georgetown, although I cain't imagine how he'd have the gall or know how to do it twice and not get caught. You'd think by now he'd set off a little suspicion. Bass' gang has been around here since about four days ago, they think. Also heard Barnes don't trust Murphy, but that could just be talk. They think Bass has even been into town, but they cain't prove it." Wesley scratched his chin. "'Cause nobody knows for sure what he looks like. One poster has him with a mustache and beard; one has him clean shaven, wearin' his hair parted in the middle."
"Then how we supposed to know him?"
"Durned if I know. But I reckon we'll hear the ruckus when the others do. Dick Ware, Chris Conner, and George Harold are all in town now; Major Jones rode in with Morris Moore, the Deputy Sheriff from Travis County. Deputy Sheriff Grimes is ha
nging out close like he wants to land Bass himself for the town of Round Rock. I'm bettin' Bass has already cased the town out a couple of times and no one knowed it." Wesley chuckled.
"He's kinda good at not bein' seen, isn't he?"
Wesley nodded, "That's part of what got him in this mess to begin with, and everyone's ticked off at how good he is."
"You think we'll get him?"
"Not us." Wesley shook his head and spit. "But they'll get him. Jones and Peak they done had enough of this rascal and won't take no more. He's made a fool of them son, and no man likes to be made a fool of. Why half the town is half-full of lawmen today. The Rangers is liable to lose out total like if they don't get Bass this time."
"Do you know what we're supposed to be lookin' for?" John T. asked checking his gun and looking down the road.
"Nope…I'm just waitin'…" Wesley glanced over at his friend. "Anything that don't add up, I guess."
"Have you seen Jones?" John T. squinted as the morning sun got in his eyes. "I only met the man once, before we came here. I wouldn't recognize him probably. "
"Yep, he's been up and down both ends of the street. Saw him headed over to the telegraph office just a few seconds ago. I've been in his posse a time a two, knowed Peak from long ago, though."
"When is this holdup supposed to happen?"
"Any minute now. Hey…lookie yonder. That's peculiar." Wesley drew his gun out but didn't cock it.
"What?" John T. eyes glanced about, trying to pinpoint what Wesley had seen.
"Three fellers just rode in from the northwest, over towards the cemetery. They hooked their horses in the alley. Now what do you reckon they did that for?" Wesley said, moving to get a better look. "That's the kind of stuff you look for with Bass. Him and his gang plan things out. But if you know what to look for…then it's a might easier to figure him out."
"You think that's them?" John T. pulled his gun and checked his ammunition.
"Could be, lookie yonder, there goes Grimes and another feller….Oh yeah, that's Morris with him." Wesley watched intently. "They're headed into Kopperal's Store. Now what you reckon they are goin' in there for?"
Better Off Without Her (Book One of the Western Serial Killer series) Page 3