by Dunlap, Phil
Before making his own move, Sleeve decided it would be a good idea to talk to some of the other gunslingers he’d convinced to join in on the devious banker’s plan to turn Apache Springs into another Lawrence, Kansas. He liked the idea of all those guns hanging around, ready to leap into action and cut down anyone that stood in their way, even if that probably meant a sheriff and his deputy with reputations of their own. If he worked it right, he’d have the backup he needed, while he walked away with the prize, and he fully expected to shoot Havens for good measure just as soon as he had the reward in his hands. He figured he’d find most of the others at Melody’s saloon and that’s right where he directed his steps.
Plink Granville was asleep at a table by himself, facedown in a puddle of spilled whiskey. Buck and Comanche Dan were playing cards with two cowboys Sleeve didn’t know, and Black Duck Slater was leaning on the bar in conversation with Arlo, the bartender. A lumpy girl was leaning on the gunslinger’s shoulder trying her best to get him to go upstairs with her. Sleeve had no sooner entered the noisy room than the skinny girl he’d accompanied to her crib several days back approached him with a gleam in her eye.
“Where you been, stranger? I’ve been pining away waitin’ for you to return. What say we go upstairs and stare at the wallpaper?”
“Uh, you actually remember me?”
“Well, of course, sweetie. A girl don’t never forget a real man. So, what do you say? Want to invest a dollar on a sure thing?”
Sleeve’s resolve to engage the other fast guns in a conversation about Havens and when they might expect to begin dropping a cap on ol’ Cotton Burke began to wane. Women had always been the one weakness he just couldn’t seem to put away in favor of more important things. But then, no one had ever convinced him that there was anything more important than lying beside a filly on a soft mattress after taking care of business. He sighed and took her hand, slipped a dollar into her palm, and followed her up the winding staircase Melody had had built special for her new Golden Palace of Pleasure.
The lumpy girl didn’t seem to be having much luck with her attempts to drag Black Duck away from tossing down shot after shot of whiskey and exchanging jokes with the bartender. She looked bored and frustrated as she turned and wandered away to find a more willing customer.
Chapter 33
The next morning, Cotton sat cross-legged in the captain’s chair across from Darnell Givins. He’d explained his plan to the banker, who had, as yet, not commented on what he thought of it. The expression on Darnell’s face plainly expressed his misgivings. Cotton fully understood the position it put the banker in. If the bank president was unwilling or unable to take a chance on an admittedly risky scheme to best his chief rival, Burke could do nothing. He’d have to come up with some other avenue to make certain Bart Havens didn’t do to this town what he’d done to so many before. Cotton hoped he could do it legally. If not, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d had to step outside the law to accomplish a just and proper outcome. Givins cleared his throat and leaned his elbows on his desk.
“You have to understand, Sheriff, if this doesn’t work, Havens could end up with complete control of Apache Springs. I’m sure you see my reluctance.”
“Indeed I do. And if you can come up with a better, safer plan to help these folks out, I’ll be right there to cheer you on. But, for now at least, I’ve given it my best shot.”
Givins sat back with a sigh. His sack suit was rumpled, giving the impression he’d slept in it for days on end. Cotton figured the truth was that Darnell Givins hadn’t slept at all for some time. His eyes were bloodshot and dark circles gave the impression of a raccoon.
“I have to admit I like the sound of it. The timing, of course, would be crucial. One slip-up, though, and we’d be done for.”
“And, for the whole thing to work properly, we’d need everyone who borrowed from Havens to jump on the idea. And, the payments would have to be paid back exactly six months from the day they took the loan out. To the hour.”
“I’m not sure how we find out who all has fallen for this deception.”
“I’ve been ponderin’ that, too.”
“Although, I reckon most of the ranchers hereabouts know each other’s business to some degree, don’t you, Sheriff?”
“I do.”
“I suppose we don’t have to make a decision on this for a few days, even weeks, do we?”
“Nope.”
“Maybe with a little more time, we can come up with something even better.”
“Yup.”
“Well, Sheriff, until something better does come along, you may assume your plan is my plan.”
“Good. We’ll make it work, Darnell. Don’t worry. Now, I suggest you get some sleep so you can handle all the business that’ll be walkin’ back in here once folks find out how they’ve been hoodwinked.”
Cotton blinked in the bright sunshine as he stepped outside the bank. He hadn’t wanted to mention it, but he did have an idea how he might get his hands on the list of loans Havens had made in the last several weeks. And he hoped Jack might be the key to finding it. As he walked down the boardwalk back toward his office, he noticed Buck Kentner keeping an eye on him while leaning on a post outside Melody’s place. And across the street, Comanche Dan Sobro was keeping an eye on them both. He had to stifle a chuckle.
Cotton went inside his office to await an answer to any one of several telegrams he’d sent out to various towns both in New Mexico and in Texas. Never a man to take another’s word for anything that could carry with it a life or death penalty, his inquiries all focused on two particular subjects: Comanche Dan Sobro and Judge Arthur Sanborn. So engrossed was he in his deliberations, he failed to take notice of a lone rider coming into town, carrying a shotgun, and heading straight for the Havens Bank.
Blanchard opened the door to the bank, looked around, then stepped toward Delilah, who was posted at the ready, a willing greeter to all who entered.
“Where’s your boss, pretty lady?” Blanchard asked. His face was dark and lined with anger.
“H-he’s in back, uh, with a customer, Mr. Blanchard. May I, uh, tell him you’re here?”
“Nope, I’ll tell that polecat myself.”
Delilah took a step to divert Blanchard, but he just pushed her aside. She ran after him in an effort to warn Havens. But before she could reach the door, Blanchard had kicked it open and was already cocking the shotgun. Havens looked up at the intrusion, at first surprised; then seeing who it was, he broke into an amused smile.
“Why hello, Mr. Blanchard. To what do I owe this distinct pleasure?” His statement dripped with insincerity.
“Ain’t gonna be no pleasure when I blow your lyin’ head clean off’n your shoulders.”
As Blanchard raised the shotgun, Havens stood up with one hand in the air.
“Now, hold on, my friend. Whatever it is that’s bothering you, I’m certain we can work it out.”
“Highway robbery, that’s what it is. And out here we deal with your kind in a most decisive manner. That’d be what I’m totin’ this here iron for.”
“Did you say robbery? I say, you can’t believe I would stoop to such behavior. I’m an honest businessman, and as such cannot condone anything other than absolute righteousness in my bank. Now, sit down and tell me what it is that makes you think you’ve been mistreated.”
“You know damned well what it is, you rattlesnake. You got me to sign a contract that lets you either squeeze a tidy sum from me if I pay off early or turn over my deed to you if I pay up late. Either way, I lose.”
“Now, who’s been filling your head with such nonsense?”
Delilah had retreated toward the front door of the bank. Sleeve Jackson was coming her way. Seeing she was in some distress, Sleeve asked what was wrong.
“Mr. Blanchard is really upset at being cheated in his loan contract.”
“So what? There’s nothing he can do about it. He’s already signed it.”
“He seems to think there is something he can do about it. He’s got a shotgun.”
“And where was you headed, gal?”
“I was going to get the sheriff.”
“Never mind. I’ll handle this.”
“But, wh-what are you going to do?”
“Reckon I better save Mr. Havens from being murdered by a bloodthirsty rancher.”
“No, wait, I don’t think Mr. Blanchard would really . . .”
Sleeve paid her no mind and pushed past her. He drew one of his Schofields as he entered the bank, stalking straight for the back. He heard arguing coming from Havens’s office. Since the door was already open, he stood just out of sight for a moment.
“Here’s what I propose, Havens. You tear up my contract and I’ll walk out of here, and you’ll live to cheat someone else, just not me.”
“Mr. Blanchard, I assure you that the contract was made in good faith.”
“Then, I have no choice but to—”
The roar of Sleeve’s Schofield threw the skinny rancher to the floor in front of Havens’s desk. Blanchard gasped for air as blood burbled from his back.
Havens sat back with a rush of air, pulling his handkerchief. He mopped his brow. “I do believe you came just in time, Mr. Jackson. That crazy old coot was fixin’ to kill me.”
“I do believe he was, at that, Mr. Havens. Now, I wonder why.” Sleeve’s sarcasm wasn’t lost on Havens, who gave him a scowl.
Cotton burst through the front door, followed closely by Delilah Jones. His Colt was drawn.
“What the hell happened here, Havens?”
“Old man Blanchard was about to blow my brains out. Fortunately, Mr. Jackson was nearby to witness the whole affair. And of course, the fair Ms. Delilah also saw my imminent danger. She’s likely the reason you got here so fast.”
“No, it was the blast of this man’s revolver that brought me. I don’t allow gunfire in my town, except on the rare occasion that someone needs killin’.”
“You don’t intend to arrest Mr. Jackson, do you?”
“No, not as long as it was self-defense, as you claim. I’d better not find out to the contrary. Too bad the wrong man got shot, though.” Cotton leaned down to the dead man. He frowned, visibly angered by this turn of events. When he stood, he shot Havens a look of disgust, then turned and strode out.
Chapter 34
“What happened?” Jack shouted, as he came at a dead run down the middle of the street toward where the gunfire had come from.
“One of Havens’s killers shot down Donald Blanchard. Your lady friend said the old man confronted our crooked banker about the rotten deal he got on his loan and wanted to have the contract torn up. Havens didn’t see it that way. Blanchard had a shotgun and Sleeve Jackson pulled down on him. The wrong man went down, shot in the back. And now I got to go talk to a widow.”
“You do have to tell her what happened, I suppose, but . . .”
“More than that. I’m sure she knew what he was comin’ to town for when he hauled out his shotgun. My fear is that we’ve just seen the first volley in what could quickly erupt into a general uprising against Havens.”
For the next three days, both Cotton and Jack overheard grumblings from various citizens, all lamenting the lack of an arrest over Blanchard’s killing. The town was growing increasingly uneasy about the gunslingers and about the rumors of Havens’s mistreatment of some who’d taken out loans from his bank.
“Cotton, you can’t just sit there and do nothin’. What do you aim to do about Blanchard’s murder? You know it can’t rightly be called nothin’ else,” Jack said. He had grown weary of Cotton’s disagreeable silence and of keeping his thoughts on the subject to himself.
Cotton slapped the desk with both hands and stood up.
“First, I’m goin’ to have a whiskey. Join me?”
“Try to stop me. I can’t remember the last time you bought. This I do with pleasure,” Jack said, keeping stride with the long-legged sheriff, a broad grin across his face.
Cotton strode to a table at the rear of Melody’s saloon and sat. Jack followed suit. When Arlo asked what they would like, Jack jumped in with, “Couple of whiskeys, the good stuff this time. And put it on the town’s tab.” Cotton gave Jack a frown, but sidestepped making a comment. He put his elbows on the table, folded his hands, and leaned forward as if a secret was about to be shared. Jack waited until Arlo served them before he spoke.
“Now, since you aren’t overly generous with sharin’ whiskey, which by the way, I’ve almost never known you to drink, what’s on your mind?” Jack said.
“As soon as other ranchers who’ve signed up for one of Bart’s interest-free loans find out about Blanchard, they’re goin’ to start askin’ questions. Why did he go after Havens? They’ll ask his widow what happened. She’ll tell ’em they were all cheated, and that Havens had her husband murdered. Then all hell’s goin’ to break loose. Most of the farmers and ranchers either don’t read at all or have so little book learnin’ they for sure never read what they were signin’. I’ll bet some of those loan contracts have only an ‘X’ for a signature.”
“And you figure as soon as they find out they’ve been hornswaggled, they’ll do the same thing Blanchard did.”
“Worse. I wouldn’t put it past a couple of those early settlers to set things right with a rope or a torch. Either way, the town comes out the loser. I have to stop that. But I’m goin’ to need your help.”
“What do you want me to do?” Jack’s eyes showed wariness Cotton hadn’t seen since he tricked Jack into coming to Apache Springs in the first place.
“Since I’m the main target of Havens’s gunslingers and you’re a better talker than I am, I’d like you to go out to Blanchard’s ranch, talk to his wife, and try to keep the lid on things.”
“Who’s goin’ to watch your back while I’m gone?”
“Reckon that’s a chance I’ll have to take on my own. Just watch yourself. We don’t know yet how those ranchers are going to take the news of Blanchard’s bein’ killed by one of Havens’s men.”
“You’ll be here with that Plink Granville and Sleeve Jackson and Black Duck Slater. Even if what you say is true about Comanche Dan, which I’m damned well gonna need proof of, those aren’t good odds. How about gettin’ Henry Coyote to hang around with that Spencer of his while I’m gone?”
“Now you’re thinkin’ like a true lawman. I’ll ride out and fetch him and you can leave as soon as I return.”
Jack’s ride out to the Blanchard place took him the better part of three hours. The small ranch lay between two hilly ranges in a high, green valley. Good grass, sufficient water, and easy to defend if the need arose. Why Blanchard needed money was anyone’s guess. Maybe he wanted to increase his herd before winter sets in. Jack reckoned it wouldn’t be a bad investment. But why didn’t he read the fine print before signing such a contract? Didn’t Darnell Givins warn him about Havens beforehand?
Jack’s silent questions weren’t going to supply any answers until he had a chance to talk to Blanchard’s widow. It was a task he didn’t relish. When he rounded the bend in the road that led directly down to the ranch house, he was met with a sight he hadn’t counted on. There, gathered in the yard front of the house were about twenty men, and they didn’t appear to be in a celebratory mood. One was even carrying a coiled rope. The shouts and grumblings didn’t bode well for him having much success talking them out of a hasty reaction to the tragedy. He rode up slowly and dismounted. He hadn’t been spotted through the commotion until he reached the outer ring of men.
“Well, well, if it ain’t the deputy. Come callin’ for a reason, Deputy Stump?” Mrs. Blanchard said bitterly.
Jack understood her anger, but it was misdirected. Neither he nor Cotton had had any way of knowing that Blanchard would do something so foolish as to threaten Havens in front of his own gunman. But now it looked to be his job to defuse the situation before it got out of hand. Way out of hand by the l
ooks of the crowd.
Jack removed his hat as he addressed the lady. “Yes, ma’am, I have come for a reason.”
“And what might that be? You come to say it was all a mistake and that my poor Henry wasn’t shot down in cold blood by that snake Sleeve Jackson?”
“Wish I could, ma’am, but the truth of it is, Henry didn’t give Jackson no choice. Henry was fixin’ to pull the trigger on that scattergun and blow Havens into the next world. By the time we heard the shot, it was too late to do anything. Henry was already dead.”
“So, why are you here, Deputy?” asked the man holding the rope.
“I’m here at the behest of the sheriff to keep a whole lot more of you folks from bein’ killed. If you all go stormin’ into town with revenge on your minds, sure as blazes there’ll be a lot of bloodshed. Havens has some stone cold killers that would love to earn their keep by brute force. In fact, that’s just what Havens hired them for.”
“You got a better idea? We can’t just let that son of a bitch Havens steal our land over some piddlin’ little printin’ at the bottom of a piece of paper. Ain’t none of us could understand it, anyways,” said Mrs. Blanchard.
“I understand. And so does the sheriff. That’s why he sent me out here instead of comin’ himself. He’s cookin’ up a plan to get rid of Havens and his schemin’ ways. But you gotta give us a little time. That’s all I’m askin’ for. A little time. Believe me, we want rid of Havens as bad as you do, along with those snakes he bought and paid to cover his ass—uh, beggin’ your pardon, ma’am.” Jack chewed on his lip as he awaited an answer.