Hack Pettebone was just finishing his breakfast when Turnbo walked in.
"Ranger. Wondered what happened to you," he exclaimed. "Figured you must've run into trouble . . . either that, or you were on the trail of it."
"Nope. Found some," Turnbo answered. He rolled and lit a quirly, then related the story of the stolen horses, the shootout with the horse thieves, and the shooting of Tanner Baker.
"I'll notify Sheriff Logan to ride out and pick up those bodies. I really hope Tanner pulls through," Pettebone said. "He's a real fine hombre. So's Laura."
Turnbo laughed.
"Laura's an hombre? Sure could've fooled me. I figured she was one fine-lookin' female."
"You know what I mean, Ranger. She's a gal to ride the river with, anytime."
"She sure is that," Turnbo said. "Anything much happen while I was gone?"
"Not a thing, except I've got a telegram here from Ranger Headquarters I've been holdin' for you," Pettebone answered. He opened the center drawer of his desk, pulled out a yellow Western Union flimsy, and handed it to Turnbo. The Ranger quickly scanned its contents.
"What's it say, Ranger?" Pettebone questioned.
"Looks like I'm headed back to San Angelo. Appears they caught the men who robbed the stage I was ridin' and killed that deputy. Need me down there to testify at their trial. Plus, besides the stage holdups, now there's been a whole string of bank robberies down that way. I've been assigned to track down whoever's behind those."
"Good luck, Ranger. Sounds like you'll need it. How soon will you be pullin' out?"
"As soon as I can pick up a few supplies. I'll be on the trail in less than an hour."
"I see. Well, adios. And be careful," Pettebone said.
"Always try to be," Turnbo answered. "Only problem is, sometimes it doesn't turn out that way. So long, Hack."
Chapter 4
Turnbo reached San Angelo mid-afternoon the third day after leaving Abilene. He watered his horse at a trough in the plaza, then reined up in front of the sheriff's office and dismounted.
"You'll be in a stall and munchin' oats before too long, Hat," he promised the gelding. "Just need to stop here and let the sheriff know I'm back in town." He looped the reins over the hitch rail, ducked under it, and headed into the office. A deputy on duty at the front desk looked up when he entered.
"Ranger Turnbo?" he asked, seeing the silver star on silver circle pinned to Turnbo's vest.
"Yep, sure am," Turnbo confirmed.
"I'm Deputy Marv Toney. Sheriff Spears is in his office. Go right ahead. He's been expecting you."
"Thanks, Deputy." Turnbo swung open the gate which separated the front of the office from the rest, then headed down a short hallway. He knocked on the doorframe of Spears' office, and then stepped inside. Spears looked up from the paperwork on his desk.
"Ranger. Sure good to see you again. You made pretty good time from Abilene."
"Hat's a tough old Indian horse who likes to run," Turnbo answered. "I don't much like wastin' time either. And long as we're gonna be workin' together, you might as well call me J.S."
"Sure thing, long as you call me Jim," Spears answered. "You want to see the prisoners? They're right out back."
"Might as well," Turnbo answered, with a shrug. "Then I'm gonna put up my horse and find a room for myself."
Spears got up from his desk and buckled on his gun belt. "Okay. Let's go see those boys." He took a ring of keys off a peg on the wall and led Turnbo down the corridor to the back of the building, where he unlocked and opened a heavy oak door which led to the cells. He indicated two men in the third cell on the left, the only prisoners in custody at the moment.
"There they are, Ranger, the desperadoes who held up the stage you were on and killed Deputy Jerrell; Lewis Potter and James McDaniel. You recognize 'em?"
"Yeah, I sure do," Turnbo answered. "These two hombres were in the crowd when the stage pulled in that night. They were screamin' as loud as anyone that the robberies had to be stopped."
"How about at the site of the holdup?"
"Like I said the night it happened, Sheriff, it was too dark to see much but the gun flashes. You happen to check either of 'em for a dented belt buckle or a fairly new bullet scar on his belly?"
"Sure did, the two of 'em. McDaniel had both."
"You must be the one I shot then, McDaniel," Turnbo said to the closest prisoner.
"You should've done a better job of it, because once I'm outta here I'm comin' after you, Ranger, you son of a bitch!" McDaniel shouted.
"Been tried before," Turnbo answered. "I'm still here."
McDaniel broke into a string of curses.
"Shut up, or you'll be on water and stale bread for a week," Spears ordered. "C'mon, Ranger, let's head back to my office. You want some coffee before you get that room?"
"I wouldn't mind some," Turnbo said. He and the sheriff returned to Spears' office, where they each poured themselves a mug of hot black coffee, then rolled and lit quirlies. Spears sat back behind his desk while Turnbo settled into a corner chair.
"Jim, how'd you catch those two?" Turnbo asked.
Spears chuckled before responding.
"Darndest thing. You know how they say so many outlaws ain't all that bright?"
"Reckon I do, although there are plenty who are right clever."
"Well, not those two. About a month and a half back, on May 3rd, they hit another stage. That one had a big load of passengers on it, including eleven actors and actresses, members of some kind of travelin' theatrical troupe. Five of 'em were women, and they had a whole mess of jewelry. It was just cheap costume stuff, but the robbers didn't know that. They thought it was expensive, high-class gold, diamonds, rubies, and sapphires. Naturally, they relieved those ladies of all their gems and finery. Instead of tryin' to get rid of all of it, McDaniel gave some to his girlfriend, Lucinda Potter."
"Lucinda Potter? Any kin to the Potter you're holdin'?"
"His sister," Spears said. "Anyway, she didn't know anything more about jewelry than her brother or boyfriend. She started showin' it off around town. Made the mistake of braggin' about it to Jessica Howarth who runs the dress shop. She got suspicious and notified me. I questioned Lucinda, who broke down and admitted her boyfriend, McDaniel, got the jewelry durin' a stage holdup. I put the word out that McDaniel and Potter were wanted for robbery of the United States Mail and murder. Sheriff Dick Ware tracked 'em down over in Mitchell County, then they were extradited back here. I located the actors and had 'em brought here. The women identified the stolen jewelry as theirs. Two of them said they recognized McDaniel's and Potter's voices, too.
“That wasn't anywhere near enough to tie them into the robbery of the stage you were ridin', naturally. Luckily, once I pointed out to Lucinda Potter that she could be tried for receiving stolen goods, and possibly conspiracy to commit robbery, she got real nervous at the prospect of goin' to prison. She decided to turn state's evidence and tied Potter and McDaniel to all the robberies."
"Couple of lucky breaks for you, and bad breaks for McDaniel and Potter," Turnbo noted. "How'd they happen to be with the crowd after tryin' to rob the stage that night?"
"You'll find this hard to believe, but they lived only about fifty yards from this jail. Had a tent in a grove of stunt cottonwoods back there by the crick. After they tried that robbery, they circled around and rode hell-bent for leather back to town. They patched up that minor belly wound you gave McDaniel, changed clothes, then came out and joined everyone else when the stage reached town."
"Pretty smart, and a darn good alibi," Turnbo said. He took a puff on his cigarette. "Might've worked, if McDaniel and his girl hadn't had to show off."
"Mebbeso, but they were pullin' off way too many robberies," Spears agreed. "Even held up the post office over to Pipe's Creek in Bandera County. Only got seventy-five cents for their trouble on that job. They were gettin' too bold and careless. It was only a matter of time before somethin' tripped 'em up."
/> "Usually does, sooner or later," Turnbo chuffed. He stood up and stretched. "Jim, I'm plumb tuckered out. I've really gotta get some shut-eye. Gonna put up my horse and get that room."
"I understand," Spears said. "You want to meet me for supper later, J.S.? Mebbe a couple beers?"
"Sounds good," Turnbo said. "What time?"
"Meet me at the Lucky Strike around eight."
"Eight it is. See you then."
* * *
The Lucky Strike was one of the higher-class saloons in San Angelo. In addition to the usual full-length mirror-backed bar and the numerous gambling tables, it boasted a full dance floor. Instead of the usual out of tune piano played by some down on his luck musician, there was a five piece band. The Lucky Strike also had a full menu of complete meals, featuring some of the finest steaks available. By the time Turnbo arrived, shortly after eight, Spears was already there. The sheriff was seated at a back corner table and nursing a beer. He waved the Ranger over.
"J.S. Back here!"
Turnbo pushed his way through the crowded room and took a seat opposite Spears.
"Evenin', Jim."
"Evenin' yourself. You ready for a drink?"
"I could use one or two."
"All right." Spears signaled to one of the waitresses. "Hattie!" A slim brunette hurried over.
"You ready for another drink already, Sheriff?" she asked.
"Not quite yet, darlin', but my Ranger friend here is ready for one."
"All right. What's your pleasure, Ranger?"
"I'll have a beer to start," Turnbo said.
"Coming right up." Hattie went to the bar and soon returned with a mug of foamy, deep amber beer, which she placed in front of Turnbo.
"There you are, Ranger. Best in the house. Cool as we can keep it, too," she said.
Turnbo took a sip, and then nodded in satisfaction.
"This is right fine beer," he said.
"Glad you like it," Hattie answered. "How about some supper? Are you ready to order yet?"
"Now's as good a time as any," Turnbo said. "Dunno about you, Jim, but I'm plumb starved."
"Same here," Spears said. "Hattie, I'll have the biggest, thickest steak Mort can come up with. Plenty of spuds, and whatever vegetable you've got today."
"That'll be green beans, Sheriff. All right?"
"They'll do fine. Ranger?"
"I'll have the same, only smother my steak with lots of onions," Turnbo answered. "And make sure it's cooked clean through. I want my meat done 'til it's almost burnt."
"Not me," Spears said. "Hattie knows how I want my steak fried. I prefer my meat so it's just about still mooin'."
"I'll have your grub back in a jiffy, gentlemen," Hattie said. "Well, maybe two jiffies, since it'll take a bit longer to cook the Ranger's steak. You both gonna want another beer before your meal's ready?"
"That'll be perfect," Spears replied.
Hattie headed for the kitchen to place their orders. Spears and Turnbo rolled and lit cigarettes and worked on their drinks.
"Jim," Turnbo said, "What can you tell me about the bank robberies that've been happenin' around here?"
"Not a helluva lot," Spears answered; "only that there's been a whole bunch of 'em. Seven at last count, all over the county. In addition, there've been two in Coke County and one each in Sterling and Irion counties."
"Any pattern to 'em?" Turnbo asked.
"No, and that's the funny part. As you know, quite often a series of bank holdups like this, if they're pulled off by one gang, will have some kind of connection. Usually you can trace them out on a map; sometimes they're even like a string straight from one point to the next. Not this time. This outfit hits one place, then pops up fifty or sixty miles away, then will turn up again another thirty or forty miles in the complete opposite direction."
"You think it might be more than one outfit involved?"
"I doubt it," Spears replied. "Descriptions of the suspects, such as they are, from each robbery pretty much match. Method's the same, too. Three or four men, masked of course, enter a bank just before closing, order everyone on the floor, then clean the place out. Take whatever valuables the customers and employees have, too."
"Anyone been hurt yet?"
"Yeah, unfortunately. One of the tellers at the bank up in Sterling City tried to sneak out a gun and get the drop on those men. Only thing he got for his trouble was a bullet through the brain."
"So now it's not just bank robbery. We want those boys for murder," Turnbo said.
"Sure do," Spears answered.
"You said the witnesses couldn't describe those hombres very well. What do you have so far?"
"Like I said, not very much. Only whatever could be seen over the masks. The apparent leader is tall and skinny, short brown hair, hazel eyes. Moves around a lot while the bank's bein' robbed, kinda nervous-like. Left-handed. One person thought he had a thin beard behind his bandanna, but couldn't be certain. One of the other outlaws is real hefty, reddish hair, green eyes and thick build. Third one is blonde, blue-eyed, and average height. Last one is also average height, dark hair and eyes. He's also left-handed. No one has yet gotten a good look at the man who holds the horses. And those descriptions match just about any man in Texas."
Spears paused as Hattie approached with two more mugs of beer.
"Here you are, Sheriff, Ranger. Your meal will be out in a few more minutes."
"Thanks, Hattie."
Turnbo waited until the waitress was out of earshot.
"Not much to go on, that's for certain," he noted. "None of those men have distinguishing marks, scars, anything like that?"
"Not that anyone's noticed. Only thing a couple witnesses mentioned is the leader kinda squints, like mebbe he needs spectacles."
"When was the last robbery?"
"It's been a while, now that you mention it. Last one was a couple of weeks back. Up in Grape Creek. That's only about six miles northwest of here. Before that they were happenin' regular, every three or four days, five at the most."
"Jim, I'd like a list of all the banks that have been hit. I'll start in Grape Creek, then make a circuit of the others and talk to their folks. Mebbe someone'll remember somethin' that will help."
"Sounds like pretty much of a wild goose chase."
"It probably is, but at least it'll be a start. And with any luck I'll turn up somethin'."
"Reckon it's as good an idea as any," Spears said, with a shrug. "At least it's something. I'll have that list for you in the morning. Here comes Hattie with our supper."
Turnbo and Spears dug into their meal, eating mostly in silence. After finishing with peach cobblers, they were having final cups of coffee and cigarettes. Spears looked up when a dudish looking man entered the saloon, glancing around as if looking for someone. He smiled when his gaze settled on the sheriff, and hurried over to the two lawmen.
"Sheriff Spears, I've been looking for you. Your deputy told me I would most likely find you here."
"Well, you've found me, Ross," Spears answered. "Meet Ranger J.S. Turnbo. J.S., this here is Ross Lucast. He's the manager of that theatrical troupe who were the victims of the last stage robbery."
"Pleased to meet you, Ranger," Lucast said. He was tall and thin, with lank brown hair, on the longish side, and wore thick spectacles.
"Same here," Turnbo answered. "I understand it was some of your women who indirectly led Sheriff Spears to the holdup men. Appreciate that."
"You're more than welcome, Ranger."
"Ross, you said you were lookin' for me. Any reason in particular?" Spears asked.
Lucast's face scrunched up in a frown as he answered.
"I need to know how much longer we have to stay stuck here in San Angelo, Sheriff. We're losin' money every day we're not on the road, puttin' on a show."
"I already told you, the trial is set for next Wednesday," Spears answered. "We had to wait for Ranger Turnbo to get back here, since we also need his testimony. Judge Brockman also wanted to
make sure every witness possible, both for the prosecution and defense had been located before the trial started. I'm sorry, but the matter is out of my hands."
"I could just take my people and leave town," Lucast said.
"You try that and I'll bring you back and toss you in jail as material witnesses. That'll hold you until the trial," Spears warned. "Besides, aren't you scheduled to do two shows a night at the San Remo Opera House for three days, startin' Thursday?"
"Yes we are, Sheriff. The owner was kind enough to reschedule us after we were forced to cancel our previous appearance due to the robbery. But even if all those shows sell out, it will barely make up for our losses, if that. I've already had to cancel several engagements and reschedule others. Can't you get the judge to push up the trial date?"
"Like I've already said, my hands are tied. You'll just have to make the best of the situation."
"I guess you're giving me no choice," Lucast said. His face suddenly brightened for no apparent reason. "Well, no matter. I'd like to invite you and Ranger Turnbo to be my guests at our opening performance. Best seats in the house, with my compliments. You'll be able to meet the rest of the troupe afterwards. Will you accept?"
"I will, but I can't answer for Ranger Turnbo. He might have other plans," Spears answered.
"Reckon whatever plans I have can wait a day or two," Turnbo said. "Just like you, Mr. Lucast, I'm stuck here until after the trial, so I'll be happy to accept your invitation. Got a question for you, though."
"I'll be happy to answer it if I can," Lucast answered.
"I'm just wonderin' how you and your troupe happened to be on that stagecoach. From what the sheriff tells me, you have quite a few people in your show. Most travelin' shows like yours usually have a wagon or two of their own, to haul around all the costumes and props."
"That's a very astute observation, Ranger. I see you know a bit about the theatrical profession," Lucast said. "You're correct, of course. We don't have just one, but in fact three wagons. One holds the sets and costumes; the others contain supplies, as well as bunks for when we must stop overnight between towns where there are no accommodations. One of those two snapped an axle in a deep chuckhole just outside of Abilene. We had to leave it behind for repairs. When we did, the blacksmith who took the job said the other wagons were also in very poor condition and would never make it to San Angelo. Therefore, we were forced to use the stage as alternate transportation, which meant having to leave most of our equipment behind. Let me tell you, it was awfully crowded with all of us crammed into one coach. Even though our show would have been shortened somewhat, we would have managed with what little scenery and costumes we had, if it weren't for that holdup."
West of the Big River: Boxed Set of Eight Western Novels Page 38