“Ha,” Lynch snorted. “A woman like that? You mean a bitch rattlesnake like her.”
Their discussion ended with the emergence of Hannah from the serviceberry bushes. Will waited while she untied the rope from her boot, then they walked back to the fire, which was well along by then. Will told them that he planned to free them long enough to let them eat, while he would stand guard with his rifle and six-gun. “Hannah is gonna do the cookin’. I’m afraid it’s gonna be pretty skimpy chuck: fried sowbelly and some hardtack, unless she wants to make up some pan biscuits. There’s a small tin of lard on one of your packhorses and I’ve got some flour. And there’s a little sack of sugar, in case she’d rather make some slapjack. We’ve got a coffeepot and a gracious plenty coffee, so we won’t starve to death.”
“When do we get to go to the bushes?” Tater asked.
“After you eat,” Will said. In case they were giving thought to the possibilities of escape that might offer, he added, “I’ll be goin’ in the bushes with you, though.”
To their surprise, Hannah made no objections to her job as cook. As Will suggested, she used the flour and lard, and mixed up some simple pan biscuits. Will freed his prisoners while they ate, sitting opposite the fire from them with his rifle ready. When they had finished the meal, he handcuffed Hannah to a tree while he marched the men into the bushes to fulfill their contract with nature. On the part of the two prisoners, there were no thoughts toward making a run for it because it was far too easy for Will to cut both of them down before they could get more than a few yards away. When they were done, he marched them back to their respective trees and secured them again before freeing Hannah to clean up the pan and coffee cups. Again he was surprised by her reaction. He had anticipated her refusal to cooperate, but she did his bidding without objection. It seemed to him that she had accepted her captivity, although it was hard to imagine such a change in the woman, based on his past experience with her. He decided that she could be up to something and might require even closer surveillance, so he considered himself as having been warned.
When Hannah had finished with the cleanup, he secured her once again to her tree while he took another look at Lynch’s wound. There was some swelling right around the wound, but there was no sign of infection as yet, so he decided it would do to just bandage it and let the doctor in Atoka take the bullet out. “You gotta do more for me than stuff that damn rag in my shirt,” Lynch complained.
“It’ll hold till we get to Atoka,” Will said. “If you behave yourself, I’ll get the doctor to take a look at it.” He glanced up to catch Hannah gazing intently at him, as if judging his every action. It was hard to guess what she was thinking, he thought. In his limited experience with the female gender, he had to admit that it was hard to guess what any woman was thinking.
Under way again after the horses were rested, Will led his column out due east as before with a little over two hours’ travel before the sun settled down on the horizon behind them. Camp that night went pretty much as their rest stop had. With long experience of sleeping with one eye open, he had little trouble from his prisoners. They were an odd trio, with Lynch scowling painfully, Tater almost lackadaisical, and Hannah strangely calm. In fact, it was hard to imagine her as the same Hannah Cheney who had appeared to be the most aggressive of Ike Cheney’s brood. Will wondered if the loss of her father and all four of her brothers in such a short period of time might have had a sobering effect upon the young woman. Possibly she was realizing the path she had chosen to follow had brought nothing but pain and heartache, now that it was too late to go back. Again, he felt compassion for the unfortunate daughter of an evil outlaw. Maybe she had no choice in the life she was forced to live. It was a cruel way to end up at her age, with her whole family wiped out, but she had to be responsible for the life decisions she made for herself. Away early the next morning, Will planned to jail his prisoners in Atoka before the sun set again.
* * *
It was close to sunset when Jim Little Eagle returned to his cabin on Muddy Boggy Creek, just north of Atoka. He stepped down from the saddle at the corner of the corral, then paused when he saw a string of riders approaching from the west. In a moment, he was able to recognize the lead rider. No one sat a horse quite like Will Tanner, tall in the saddle, with his hands almost resting on the saddle horn. It was also easy to identify the big buckskin gelding the broad-shouldered deputy rode. Looks like Will’s been busy, Jim thought when he saw the three riders behind him, their hands behind their backs, their horses on lead ropes. He looped his reins over a rail of the corral and walked out in the yard to meet his friend.
“Hi-yo, Will,” Jim greeted him. “Whatcha got there?”
“Howdy, Jim,” Will returned. “I brought you some guests for that little jailhouse of yours. I’d like to leave ’em with you till I can get a wagon sent over to transport ’em to Fort Smith.”
“I thought you didn’t like to bother with a jail wagon,” Jim said.
“Most of the time I don’t,” Will said. “One prisoner ain’t that much a problem, but with three to keep an eye on, it’s a sight easier with the wagon, so I can keep ’em chained up.”
“Is that the gang Tom Spotted Horse reported over near Tishomingo?”
“Yep,” Will answered, “what’s left of ’em. One of ’em’s got a bullet in his shoulder that could stand some lookin’ at. Is Doc Lowell still here?”
Jim took a step aside to get a better look at the three prisoners. “Yeah,” he answered. “Doc’s still practicing medicine off and on.” He paused for a moment when he looked at Hannah. “I’ll ride into town with you and we’ll put your prisoners in the jail, but you know there ain’t but that one-room cabin. You gonna put the woman in with the two men?”
“I’ve been thinkin’ about that,” Will replied, and glanced briefly at Hannah, who appeared anxious to hear his answer. “I’m hopin’ we can find someplace else to stick her.”
Jim’s wife, Mary Light Walker, who had come from the house to hear the conversation, spoke up at that point. “What she do? She kill somebody?”
Will stroked his chin while he considered the question. He had no idea what Hannah Cheney had done before she crossed his path. “Well,” he answered, “not that I know of.” He paused, then added, “But she’s threatened to.”
“She can stay in smokehouse,” Mary said, knowing Will would provide the money to pay for her food. “I feed her.”
“That sure suits me,” Will said. “That all right with you, Jim?”
Jim shrugged. “I reckon. I’ve got a good padlock I can put on the door. It oughta be all right if she ain’t gonna be in there too long. I don’t know of any other place to hold her right offhand.”
“I fix,” Mary said when it appeared that they all agreed. She went at once to the barn to fetch some hay for a bed while Will got a couple of blankets that Hannah had used for her bed the night before.
Lynch and Tater watched sullenly as the special preparations for the female prisoner took place. Finally Lynch could hold his tongue no longer. “How ’bout my shoulder? I need to get some doctorin’ done pretty quick. I’m in a heap of pain. Throw her in the damn smokehouse and let’s get goin’.”
“If you’re in that much pain,” Will said, “maybe you want me to dig that bullet outta you. I guarantee I can get it out, but it’ll be a helluva lot worse than Doc Lowell doin’ it, so you’d best just quit your bellyachin’.” That was enough to quiet Lynch while they waited as Mary Light Walker filled a bucket of water at the pump, then carried it into the smokehouse. When she was ready, Will pulled Hannah from her horse and led her to the smokehouse door, where he freed her wrists and waited for her to go inside.
As she stepped in, she startled him with a softly spoken remark. “Thank you for not lockin’ me up with them.” Once again he was astonished by the change in the seemingly contrite young woman. He only nodded in reply. Then after Mary demonstrated how she could easily pass a plate of food under the door, w
ithout having to unlock it, Will decided the arrangement would work. He untied the packhorses, pulled their packs off, and turned them out in Jim’s pasture, along with Hannah’s and Rubin’s horses. Left with only the two men to concern him, he stepped up into the saddle, and with Jim Little Eagle beside him, headed toward town.
* * *
Dr. Franklyn Lowell went to answer the knock on his front door. When he opened it to find Jim Little Eagle and another man standing on his front porch, he guessed somebody had gotten themselves shot. That was about the only occasion when the Choctaw lawman called upon him, but the tall man standing beside him didn’t appear to be wounded. “Jim,” Dr. Lowell acknowledged. “What can I do for you?”
“Howdy, Doc,” Jim said. “We locked up a couple of prisoners we’ll be holding till we can get ’em transported to Fort Smith. One of ’em’s got a bullet in his shoulder. Reckon you could take a look at him?”
Lowell assumed then that the man with Jim was a lawman as well. “I suppose you’re a deputy marshal,” he said, looking at Will.
“That’s a fact, Dr. Lowell,” Will answered, “Will Tanner.” He had never had occasion to come in contact with the doctor before, but he had heard Jim talk about him. No one in the tiny railroad town knew for sure, but there was speculation that Doc, like Doc O’Shea down in Durant, had gravitated to Indian Territory after having lost his license to practice medicine in one of the northern states, some said Chicago. With no family, Doc kept pretty much to himself while maintaining a modest practice, setting a few broken bones and spooning doses of cough syrup to the farmers’ children. It was rare when one of the Indian families consulted the stocky little man with the full white beard and matching hair.
“Will Tanner,” Lowell said. “I’ve heard the name. I suppose you’ll be responsible for my fee.”
“Reckon so,” Will answered.
Lowell turned back to Jim. “I’ll treat him, but not down in that rat hole you call a jail. You’ll have to bring him here.”
“I’ll bring him,” Will said.
“Well, hurry up then,” Lowell prompted. “It’s almost time for my supper, and Lottie closes the kitchen at six,” he said, referring to Lottie Mabry, who ran a diner next to the rooming house her husband owned.
“Right,” Will replied.
* * *
The two lawmen returned to the jail and Will placed Lynch’s hands in the handcuffs again. Jim gave Will the key to the padlock on the door and the two lawmen parted company, Will back to the doctor, and Jim back to his cabin. “Mary will have something for you to eat when you get done here,” Jim said. “They oughta be all right till morning. I’ll bring ’em something to eat then. They’ve got water in that bucket.”
Overhearing their parting words, Tater called out from inside the dark log structure. “Hey, we ain’t had nothin’ to eat since noon! It’s a long time before breakfast.” When there was no response to his complaint, he added, “Don’t take too long with that doctor. It’s kinda spooky in this dark hole. I can’t see my hand in front of my face.”
* * *
“Bring him in here,” Doc Lowell said to Will when he returned with his wounded prisoner. Lowell led the way to his examination room off the living room and directed the scowling patient to sit down on the table. “You’ll have to take those hand irons off of him, so I can move his arm.” He looked Lynch directly in the eye as he instructed Will. “Shoot him if he tries the slightest thing.”
“I’d be glad to,” Will replied, and sat down on a chair in the corner of the room to watch the procedure.
“Ain’t you gonna give me nothin’ for the pain?” Lynch asked.
“You won’t need anything,” Lowell said after examining the wound. “It’ll be over before you get a chance to hurt much.” The doctor had a small supply of chloroform, but he was reluctant to use it on an outlaw, thinking the man probably deserved to hurt a little. He thought it more prudent to reserve his anesthetic for his law-abiding patients. A reason closer to the actual fact of the matter was the approaching closing time at Lottie’s Kitchen, and the added recovery time for his patient to recover from the drug. So, determined to finish before suppertime, he went to work on Lynch’s shoulder.
As the doctor promised, the operation didn’t take long, but it was not without considerable pain, so much so, that Lynch passed out during the deepest probe for the .44 slug. “It was a little deeper than I thought,” Lowell commented casually, but it’s out and he oughta be all right, if he keeps it clean.” He went to the sink and pumped some water into a basin and proceeded to clean his hands. “Three dollars oughta do it.”
Will thought it a bit too high, but paid him without complaint. He figured he’d sell one of the captured horses to pay his expenses. He cuffed Lynch’s wrists again, ignoring the gruff outlaw’s usual protests of pain. In a slight fit of compassion, he stopped by Lottie’s Kitchen and bought some biscuits and ham, feeling an obligation to feed his prisoners. With the two of them secured for the night, he returned to Jim’s cabin on Muddy Boggy Creek.
* * *
“You think they hang that woman?” Mary Light Walker asked as she offered Will more coffee.
“I don’t know,” Will said, “maybe, maybe not. I reckon it depends on what Judge Parker thinks.” He thought about his initial encounter with the vengeful hellion in The Cattleman’s Saloon in Sulphur Springs. He remembered diving for cover behind a table when the enraged woman came through the door shooting wildly at him. Thinking of her recent behavior, it was difficult to believe a person could change so completely without getting struck by lightning or something. He shrugged. “She sure rode with a ruthless bunch.”
Mary nodded thoughtfully. “They her brothers,” she said. “She don’t have no choice.”
“Well, maybe,” Will said. Mary had obviously been talking to the prisoner while he and Jim were in town.
Mary continued. “All her family gone, four brothers and father, all gone. Mother all she got left. Now mother won’t have nobody.”
This caught Will’s interest. “Did she say her mother’s still alive?” He had wondered about that before.
“Mother live with sister and her husband on Blue River, near Tishomingo. She don’t know her whole family dead.”
Will found himself in a conversation he wasn’t comfortable with. Evidently, Hannah had struck a nerve in Mary’s motherly instincts. And he had to admit that he had felt some compassion for her, but everybody is responsible for the choices they make in this world, he told himself. It’s best you remember the wild-eyed hellcat that emptied a six-gun in your direction in The Cattleman’s, he thought. He found himself wishing to hell that she was not in the picture for the simple reason she made transporting his prisoners difficult. It would be far less complicated to handle prisoners who were all male, even with a jail wagon. Seeking to end the conversation with Mary, he concluded by saying, “I ain’t in the judgin’ business. It’s just my job to catch the lawbreakers, and Hannah Cheney was ridin’ with one of the worst bunches. They just happened to be all one family.” He got up from the table. “I reckon I’ll head out to the barn and get to sleep now. Thank you for the fine supper. I ’preciate it.”
Before he unrolled his bedroll in Jim’s barn, he checked on Buster to make sure the buckskin was all right. While he stroked the gelding’s neck, he thought about the talk with Mary Light Walker about his female prisoner, and he decided to check on the smokehouse to make sure Hannah was securely locked in for the night. His inspection found everything tight and the padlock on the door. He paused to listen for a moment. Everything was quiet, so he turned to go back to the barn. He had taken only a step when he was stopped by a faint noise he could not at first identify. It had come from inside the smokehouse, so he paused and listened more intently. After a moment, he realized what he had heard. It was the soft sound of weeping, like that a child might make if alone and afraid. Hannah Cheney crying? Surely he was mistaken. He quickly walked away as quietly as he could, s
carcely able to believe it.
It was a while before he finally fell asleep that night. His mind was occupied with events that had taken place that day . . . and Hannah Cheney. Mary Light Walker talked about the woman as if she was a victim of her family. But Mary had never seen Hannah with blood in her eye, as he had. He didn’t know why it bothered him. He had never concerned himself with the fairness of life, and why outlaws chose to break the law. His job was to put a stop to their lawlessness. “To hell with it,” he muttered. Finished with cluttering his thoughts with the reasons for people’s actions, he turned on his side and went to sleep.
The next morning, Mary was already cooking breakfast by the time he came out of the barn. “I didn’t mean for you to go to so much trouble,” Will said. “But I’ll pay you for the food for my prisoner and me.”
“Never mind,” she said. “You always bring gifts when you come. I not charge for you or the woman. Maybe you leave some supplies to feed her while you wait for wagon.”
“I changed my mind,” Will said. “I ain’t gonna wait for a jail wagon. That would take too long. I’ll take her off your hands this mornin’.”
This surprised both Mary and Jim. “You not gonna telegraph Fort Smith for a wagon?” Jim asked. “What you gonna do?”
“I decided it doesn’t make sense to wait that long for a man to drive a wagon over here. It’s my fault for not bringin’ one in the first place.” Dan Stone would be the first to tell me that, he thought. “You go on into town and I’ll be along later. I’m gonna pack up the horses I’m gonna take with me. Whaddaya say I leave that extra horse here with you?” He was referring to the horse Rubin Cheney had ridden. “That’ll make up a little for your trouble.”
“Well, sure,” Jim replied. “That’s generous of you, but I’ll help you saddle up.”
“I can handle it,” Will said. “I’d appreciate it if you’d ride on in and get my two prisoners ready to ride.”
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