* * *
Margaret Cross opened the door to the study and held it open for a few moments before entering. “Come on in, Margaret,” Zachary Slocum said. “I ain’t asleep, I just closed my eyes for a few minutes.”
She entered the room then and walked over beside his chair to pick up his empty coffee cup on the table beside it. “Zachary,” she called him by his first name when there were only the two of them. In the presence of others, family included, she always called him Mr. Slocum. “Zachary,” she repeated to make sure he really was alert. “Mr. Eli Ballenger has asked to see you. Shall I show him in?”
Slocum was immediately receptive. “Yes, yes,” he answered, “show him in.” He got up from the chair and turned to receive him. In less than a minute, Margaret returned. A tall thin man followed her. At the door, she stepped aside and held the door open. When he walked into the room, she left, closing the door behind her. “Mr. Ballenger,” Slocum greeted him, “I hope you have something worthwhile to report. It’s been a week.”
“I found them,” Ballenger stated. “They’re in a little town called Bison Gap, about eighty miles south of here.”
“Have they still got the baby with them?”
“Yes, sir, the baby is with them,” Ballenger said. “And he’s strong and healthy, according to what one of the men who brought the woman down there from Butcher Bottom told me the other day.”
“How long are they gonna be there in Bison Gap? Did he tell you that?” Slocum was anxious to know, afraid they would disappear again.
“They aren’t going anywhere,” Ballenger stated calmly. “The woman and the man they called Possum are planning to build a hotel in the town.”
“A hotel?” Slocum exclaimed. “Where the hell did that Gypsy bitch get enough money to build a hotel? Are you sure about that?”
“I’m sure,” Ballenger stated positively.
“Damn,” Slocum swore as he tried to digest that unlikely possibility. “She didn’t have a penny to her name when my son married her. Where did she get that kind of money? Damn Gypsy, she most likely stole it.”
“I don’t know,” Ballenger answered, not really interested in where the woman got her money. Impatient to get on with his report, he told Slocum that Emma was living with her sister and her sister’s husband, as well as the man he identified as Possum, in a couple of tents about a mile from town.
“What about the other one who was with ’em, the one called Perley Gates?”
“When I left Bison Gap, Perley Gates was planning to leave the next day to return to Lamar County, so I suppose he’s out of the picture. I can’t tell you that for sure, because I didn’t see him leave. From what I was able to learn, however, he had no interest in their business beyond seeing them safely to Bison Gap.”
“Are you gonna be ready to go after my grandson?” Slocum asked, then remembering Margaret’s advice, added, “And the bitch that gave him birth?”
“As I told you in the beginning,” Ballenger reminded him, “I can find them for you. I’ve finished the job you paid me for.” He read the anxiety in Slocum’s eyes. His men were driving cattle up into Kansas and would not likely be back for a month or more. “I can put you in touch with two men who will pick up the woman and her child for you. They can come here first. You can make your deal with them, and for another one hundred dollars, I’ll take them to the target and make sure they go after the right woman and child.” He could see that Slocum was not entirely comfortable with his proposition, so he offered another plan. “Or, if you’d rather, I can handle it all for you, so you don’t have to actually meet the two men.”
“I prefer they didn’t come here to the ranch,” Slocum said. “I prefer to only have contact with you and you handle the arrangements with them.”
“Fair enough, I’ll take care of everything.
“What will they cost me?” Slocum asked.
“Four hundred,” Ballenger answered, “Two hundred each. If you decide you want to use them, I’ll ride back to Bison Gap and wait there for them to arrive. You’ll never see them. I’ll arrange to meet them at a place where they can be handed over, then I’ll deliver the woman and child here to the Lazy-S.” When Slocum hesitated before committing, Ballenger said, “I’ve used them before. They’re very dependable.”
“All right,” Slocum said. “Go ahead and put it in action. I’ll pay you what I paid you for finding the child.” He went to the small safe built into the corner of a huge desk and counted out five hundred dollars. “There’s one more thing. I’m sending my son with you to meet your two men before you get back here with the woman and my grandson. I want you to come here first, then the two of you can ride down to Comanche Run. He’ll make sure everything is like you say. Then you and he can bring the baby and his mother back here. Do you have any problem with that?”
“No, sir,” Ballenger said, “I have no problem with that. That’s as good a plan as any. It’ll be as you wish. You’re paying for it.”
“Do you know where Comanche Run is?” Slocum asked. “Not everybody does.”
“As a matter of fact, I do,” Ballenger said when he took the money. “It’s about fifteen miles south of here, right on your southern boundary, if I remember correctly.”
“That’s right,” Slocum replied, a sly smile on his face. He didn’t think Ballenger would know.
“I’ll be in Bison Gap day after tomorrow,” Ballenger said then. “I would estimate the delivery of your package within a week. Good day to you, sir.” He passed Margaret on his way to the front door and tipped his hat but said nothing.
“He found them?” She asked when she went into the study, and he nodded in reply. “Are you ready to eat something now?” Again, he nodded. “I’ll set it on the table.” She turned around and went to the kitchen without further comment. She knew that he was well aware of her negative feelings on the matter of abducting his late son’s child.
CHAPTER 16
Eli Ballenger walked into The Buffalo Hump shortly after noon and went to the bar. Jimmy McGee remembered him from his recent visit to Bison Gap and gave him a friendly greeting. “Back to see us, are you? The last time you were here, we had us a big trial goin’ on. I’m afraid there ain’t nothin’ that excitin’ goin’ on now. What brings you back to town?”
“Jimmy, right?” Ballenger asked. When Jimmy said that was correct, Ballenger continued. “I’m on my way back north, so I thought I’d stop by your friendly little town for a drink and maybe find something to eat. If I remember right, this is the only place in town that serves food, right?”
“That’s a fact,” Jimmy replied, “but it won’t be much longer. We’re fixin’ to have us a hotel with a regular dinin’ room.”
“I heard something about that the last time I was here.” He turned to look over the few customers in the saloon. His gaze stopped at a table where two men were seated, eating. “That looks like the fellow I was talking to when I was here—said he was one of the investors in the hotel.”
“That’s right,” Jimmy said. “That’s Possum Smith. Nobody would ever think Possum had that kind of money, would they?”
“Who’s the fellow sitting with him?”
“That’s Perley Gates. He’s the sheriff now,” Jimmy answered.
“You don’t say,” Ballenger replied. “I remember seeing him now, but he was talking about leaving the day I was here. And now, he’s the sheriff? What changed his mind?” He wondered if he might be anyone to worry about.
“He ain’t really changed his mind. He’s just takin’ the job temporarily till the mayor and his council can find somebody permanent.”
“Is that a fact?” Ballenger replied. “I think I’ll go over and say howdy to Possum. How about telling your cook to fix me a plate?” He tossed his drink back and walked over to the table.
Possum looked up when Ballenger approached the table. “Well, howdy, stranger, I didn’t think we’d see you back in town. You thinkin’ about buildin’ another hotel to give us s
ome competition?”
Ballenger laughed. “I don’t think so. Like I told you last time, the town ain’t big enough for two hotels yet. I just stopped in to eat some dinner.” He returned Perley’s nod of greeting. “That grub doesn’t look that bad. I’ve ordered a plate, myself.”
“That right?” Possum responded. “Well, set down and join me and Perley.”
“Why, thank you, I believe I will, if you don’t mind.” He pulled a chair back and sat down. He paused while Ida Wicks set a plate down for him and asked if he wanted coffee. When she left to fetch it, he continued. “Jimmy says you’re the sheriff now,” he said to Perley.
“Just for a little while,” Perley said, “till they hire one.”
“Have you had a lot of experience in law enforcement?” Ballenger asked.
“No, not a bit,” Perley answered, “never had the slightest interest in it.” When Ballenger asked how he happened to take the job, Perley answered, “’Cause there wasn’t anybody else. They just don’t want the sheriff’s office or the jail to be vacant while they’re lookin’ to fill the position. There ain’t any real need for one right now, except for drunks who need a place to sleep it off.”
Satisfied that Perley would not likely be in the way of his two kidnappers, Ballenger felt even better about the planned abduction. He even permitted himself to enjoy his dinner with the two of them. Perley Gates seemed to be as harmless as his name implied. A more friendly and mild-mannered young man Ballenger couldn’t imagine. He certainly seemed to offer no threat to his plans. He sat, listening to Possum’s predictions of a successful hotel operation, and his admiration for the gumption of the two women who proposed to pull it off, until he heard the sound of the one o’clock train rounding the bend of Oak Creek. “Well, I suppose I’d best be getting along,” he said. “I certainly enjoyed the conversation.” He stopped at the bar to pay Jimmy, then went out the door.
Leaving the saloon, he walked across the little bridge to the main street and across that to the railroad depot as the train screeched to a stop. No passengers got off, but the doors of a stock car back near the caboose opened and a ramp was hauled out. As Ballenger watched, Joe Cutter and Waylon Logan each led a horse off the train. Seeing him waiting there, they led the horses directly to him. “Eli,” Waylon acknowledged. “Understand you’ve got a little work for us.”
“That’s right, something that should be easy to handle.”
“Your telegram said you needed us to do some trappin’,” Joe said. “What kinda trappin’ you thinkin’ about?”
“I just need you to pick up a woman with a little baby and carry her north of here to a place called Comanche Run. Shouldn’t take you more’n two, two and a half days’ ride from here.”
“That sounds easy enough,” Waylon said. “What’s the hard part?” He knew there was one, else Ballenger wouldn’t have called for them.
“The hard part is she doesn’t want to go,” Ballenger said.
“Kidnappin’,” Logan responded. “Damned if we ain’t done about everything there is to break the law, but we ain’t never done no kidnappin’. Have we, Joe?” Cutter answered with no more than an indifferent snort. “Where we gotta go to get this woman? Has she got a husband?”
“We don’t know nothin’ about takin’ care of a baby,” Cutter protested before Ballenger could answer.
“You don’t have to take care of the baby, idiot,” Ballenger said. “The woman will be taking care of her baby. She doesn’t have a husband, and she’s staying in a tent a mile from town. There’s an old codger that has a cabin where she’s camped and there’s only one man you’ll have to worry about. He’s the only young man there. He’s married to the woman’s sister. There’s one other one,” he said, thinking of Possum. “He’s an old coot, too, and it looked to me like he’s staying in the cabin with the other one. If you do it right, you should be able to go in and take the woman without the two in the cabin even knowing it.”
“If it’s gonna be that easy, why didn’t you do it, yourself ’stead of sendin’ for us?” Joe Cutter asked.
“Because that’s not my line of work,” Ballenger answered. “That’s your line of work. If you don’t want to do it, I’ll give it to somebody else.”
“We’re here, ain’t we?” Waylon said. “How much is it worth to ya?”
“Hundred-fifty apiece,” Ballenger said, “I brought you a packhorse and another horse for her to ride. In addition to the money, you can keep the horses when you deliver the package.”
Logan looked at Cutter and he nodded. “All right,” Logan said. “We’ll do it. What’s so special about this woman?” Ballenger told them where she was to be taken and why. After they heard the full explanation, Logan commented. “Damn, Joe, it almost sounds like we’re doin’ a righteous thing here, takin’ a grandbaby home to his grandpa.” They both laughed at the thought. “From the way you tell it,” he said to Ballenger, “it sounds to me like Grandpa don’t really give a damn about the woman. He just wants the baby.”
“That’s about the size of it,” Ballenger said, “but Slocum is hiring you to bring him the woman, so that’s part of the deal. He needs her to take care of the baby. Now, do we understand each other?” They both nodded. “Good. We’ll go down to the stable and get my horses.”
“How ’bout we get us a drink and maybe somethin’ to eat,” Joe Cutter said. “We’ve been shut up in that stock car with the horses for four hours. I was about ready to start eatin’ some of that hay.”
“I think it’ll be better for you if we just go pick up my horses and get outta town,” Ballenger replied. “There’s no sense in you two being seen around town. The less people who see you, the less people can give the sheriff your description. In a little town like this, folks would remember two strangers. There’s a bottle of whiskey and some beef jerky in with the other supplies I brought for you. Wait till we get outta town and you can eat that. Maybe that’ll hold you till we make camp. Then you can scout their camp out while it’s still daylight.”
Cutter and Logan sat on their horses near the trees behind the stable while Ballenger got the horses from Horace Brooks. “You leavin’ town again?” Horace asked when Ballenger walked in. “When you left ’em here this mornin’, I thought you might be with us a while.”
“I’ve got business to attend to up north of here,” Ballenger answered, “and I wanted to have my horses fed and watered.” He threw his saddle back on the Morgan gelding and Horace picked up the other saddle that had been on one of the other two horses Ballenger brought in that morning. “Much obliged,” Ballenger said when Horace threw the saddle on the horse.
“What happened to the fellow who was settin’ this saddle?” Horace asked, thinking it looked like a cheap little saddle.
Ballenger smiled at him and said, “There wasn’t anybody sitting in it. It came with the horse, so I figured I might as well keep it.” He climbed on the Morgan.
Horace handed him the reins to the other two horses. “Might be a little easier to rig you up a lead rope for ’em,” Horace said.
“I won’t be ridin’ far today,” Ballenger said, “so I’ll just hold the reins. He nudged the Morgan with his heels before Horace thought of any more questions.
Cutter and Logan waited until he rode up to them and handed off the reins of the two spare horses. Then he led them around the back of the town before coming back to the creek again. A short ride brought them to the path that led to Rooster’s cabin. He pulled up there to describe the layout of the two wagons and the two tents, telling them that after they ate something he would take them to a better spot where they could see for themselves. All his careful preparation caused Waylon Logan to comment. “If there ain’t nobody to worry about but the husband of that woman’s sister, seems to me we oughta just ride in there and take the woman—shoot the husband if he gets in the way—and be done with it.”
His comment was met with an impatient look from Ballenger. “You boys haven’t gone Comanche on me, h
ave you? I contacted you two because you’ve always done good work for me in the past. This job has to be done quickly and with as little fuss as possible. Like I told you, you should be able to go in, pick up the woman, and get out without anybody getting killed. If you look the place over good and go in at the right time, you stand a better chance of getting away before anybody has a chance to get on your trail. The town’s a mile away, and they’ve only got a temporary sheriff there now. I doubt he’ll even involve himself in a chase.”
“We get the message,” Joe Cutter was quick to reassure him. “Nobody’ll get shot unless it comes down to them or us.”
“All right, then,” Ballenger said. “Let’s go up the creek a little way. I picked out a good spot for you to camp where we can leave the extra horses while we scout their camp.”
“Ain’t you gonna camp with us?” Waylon asked.
“No,” Ballenger replied. “After I show you their camp, it’ll be up to you to get the package and deliver it to the meeting place. I’ll go on to Comanche Run to make sure your money is there when you get there. You know where Comanche Run is, right?”
“Sure,” Waylon answered. “Don’t everybody?”
“Well, Brent Slocum and I will meet you there. “That’s Slocum’s son. He’ll ride on to the ranch headquarters with me to take the package from there. Do you know where Comanche Run is?” Ballenger asked him again, to be sure.
“Hell, yeah,” Waylon replied. “I shot a man there one time. He tried to welch on some money he owed me. You sure old man Zachary Slocum will pay us the hundred and fifty you said?”
“I’m sure,” Ballenger said. “I’ll get it from him. And if he tries to come up short on it, I promise you, I’ll pay you myself.” That seemed to satisfy him. The truth of the matter was Ballenger got the money from Slocum before he rode down to Bison Gap. The amount he quoted for their part, and Slocum paid him, was four hundred dollars, or two hundred each, but Ballenger took a cut of the money to offset the cost of the supplies and extra horses. When all three seemed satisfied with the deal, Ballenger led them to the spot he had picked out for their camp.
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