Tater considered that and decided it pleased him. “I reckon that’s right—makes me right famous, don’t it?”
Will almost laughed in response. “Yeah, reckon it does.”
While they waited for the horses to be rested up to get under way again, the only decision Will considered was whether or not to bury Lynch’s body. Since this was a well-known camping spot, he figured it the proper thing to do to at least drag the body away out of sight. Besides, if he didn’t put Lynch in the ground, at least the outlaw would have a chance to finally do something worthwhile. Buzzards need to eat. And outlaws, too, he thought, so he offered the coffee left in the pot to Tater, who graciously accepted it.
Drinking the last of the coffee and feeling more comfortable because he was no longer afraid he was going to be shot, Tater felt compelled to ask a question. “How’d you know we warn’t tied to them trees when you snuck up on us? You couldn’t see that good through them bushes.”
“You were backed up to a different tree,” Will said. “I tied you to the one next to it.”
“Damn,” the simple man swore.
CHAPTER 16
“Will, is that you?” The voice came from the trees on the ridge above them.
“Yeah, Perley,” Will yelled back. “What took you so long?”
There was no answer for a couple of minutes until the elflike little man appeared at the base of the ridge. “Hell, I didn’t know who was doin’ that shootin’. They sounded mighty close to my camp, so I thought I’d best come take a look—make sure I wasn’t about to have company.” He favored Will with a wide grin. “I smelled that coffee from the top of the ridge, though. Anybody get shot?”
“You just missed the last of the coffee,” Will said. “But I reckon we could take the time to make a little more.” While he proceeded to build another pot, he went on to relate what had just taken place there in the ravine. “I wasn’t sure you’d be back around here. Last time I talked to you, you said you were thinkin’ about movin’ your camp north of the Jack Fork Mountains—said the deer were gettin’ scarce around here.”
“I was thinkin’ about it,” Perley said. “But don’t you know, I came back here night before last and there was a deer eatin’ outta my lean-to. I figured that was a sign.” He took the empty cup Will handed him, eyeballing Tater as he did. “Looks like you got what you came after,” he said to Will.
“Not really,” Will replied. “I came after four, but I’m headin’ back to Fort Smith with only one.” He nodded toward the prisoner, meekly nursing his cup of coffee. “Say howdy to Tater.”
Perley nodded to Tater, and Tater proudly responded, “Pleased to meetcha. I’m the last one of Scorpion Jack Lynch’s gang. You mighta heard of us.”
“Can’t say as I have,” Perley said. Back to Will then, he asked, “You thinkin’ about stayin’ here tonight? ’Cause if you are, you might as well ride on over to my place.”
“’Preciate it, Perley,” Will said, “But I expect I’d better keep on goin’.” He glanced at Tater. “I need to get Tater, here, to Fort Smith before he decides to turn rabbit on me sometime when my back is turned.”
“You ain’t got no reason to worry ’bout me,” Tater declared. “I ain’t gonna cause you no trouble.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Will said. He studied the simple man for a moment. Tater seemed suddenly older than he had before. His eyes were watery and dull, and his beard and hair appeared to have taken on more gray. It was almost as if the man had aged in just the past few days. Will decided Tater meant what he said about not causing any trouble. Further thoughts on the subject were interrupted by Perley.
“You sure you don’t wanna come on over to my place and start out again in the mornin’? I’ll bet you ain’t had no fresh meat since you were here last time.”
“Mighty temptin’,” Will allowed, “but I expect I’d better keep movin’.” With the demise of Jack Lynch, Will no longer felt the urgency to get to Fort Smith as soon as his horses could carry him. But he had a strong desire to be done with the Jack Lynch gang. So he would take no chances with Tater, but he was certain he was not the threat he was when Lynch was alive to tell him what to do. In a way, Will felt somewhat sorry for the old outlaw, for it appeared that his life had effectively ended when Lynch slumped over at the foot of that tree with a .44 slug in his chest. It was now no more than a day and a half ride to Fort Smith, and Will decided he might as well make use of the daylight still left and deliver Tater to his final reckoning. So he said so long to Perley, and he and Tater started out again, planning to camp for the night twenty miles closer to Fort Smith.
* * *
The sun was still high in the sky when they reached Fort Smith the following day. Will had judged Tater’s attitude correctly, for he had caused no trouble at all on the ride, seeming to have accepted his appointment with the gallows. He thought maybe it was his imagination, but Tater appeared to sit up tall and proud in the saddle when he was led through the streets of Fort Smith. He even gave a smile and a friendly nod to the people they passed on the street leading to the courthouse. In his few years of experience as a deputy marshal, Will could not recall arresting anyone before who seemed as eager to get to jail. When Will turned him over to Sid Randolph, Tater didn’t wait for Will’s introduction. “I’m Tater Smith,” he informed Sid. “You most likely heard of me, rode with Scorpion Jack Lynch, and there ain’t nobody left of the gang but me.”
“That so?” Sid replied, and shot a quizzical glance in Will’s direction. Like Perley Gates, Sid had never heard of Tater Smith or Jack Lynch. “Well, I reckon we’re proud to have you stayin’ in our establishment,” he said. “I hope your stay is enjoyable.” With a grin for Will, he led Tater inside to lock him up.
Well, that takes care of that, Will thought, stepped up into the saddle, and took the horses to the stable where Vern Tuttle took them off his hands. Thinking he might still catch Dan Stone in his office, he walked back to the courthouse to report in. On his way upstairs, he met Alvin Greeley coming down. “Alvin,” Will noted politely.
The tall, angular deputy marshal paused for a moment as if deciding whether or not to acknowledge Will with a greeting. “Tanner,” he finally mumbled reluctantly. It was plain for Will to see that Greeley was still steamed over his having left him in Durant, so he continued on up the steps. He reached the second floor before Greeley called after him, “I heard you went to Tishomingo lookin’ for four outlaws. Did any of ’em make it here alive?”
“One,” Will answered, and kept walking. He supposed he was saddled with the reputation, but he felt no obligation to explain himself to backbiters like Alvin Greeley.
“Damn!” Dan Stone blurted when Will walked in his office. “So you are alive. I reckon all the telegraph lines are down in Tishomingo.”
“I wired you from Durant,” Will replied, ignoring his boss’s sarcasm. “I told you I was goin’ after Lynch and his men.”
“That’s right, you did,” Stone said, still with a touch of sarcasm in his voice. “So I expect you caught up with them and they’re now downstairs in the jail.”
“One of ’em is,” Will said. “The other ’uns didn’t make it.”
Stone favored him with a look of exasperation, although it was not really sincere. He did not believe that Will was prone to kill without an honest attempt to arrest the outlaws he went after. But he wanted to make sure his best deputy understood where he stood on a prisoner’s rights. “All right, then, tell me what happened.” He listened to Will’s account of the entire quest to run Jack Lynch to ground, and he believed him when he said the deceased outlaws gave him little choice in their demise. When Will had finished, Stone told him to go get himself a drink and go on home. “You can lay around that rooming house you live in and wait for that fellow’s trial. I don’t expect that’ll be too long. Judge Parker has been running them through the courtroom pretty damn fast. I think he was trying to clear his calendar before the first of the year. I’ll run the paperw
ork right on over, so you stay close ’cause you’ll most likely be called to testify.”
The first of the year, Will repeated Stone’s words to himself. Sophie was married to Garth Pearson. The thought always brought a feeling of melancholy, and now that it was done, it seemed especially depressing. As usually happened, he tried to erase the picture from his mind, never having really understood why the precocious young woman occupied such a great portion of his brain. I’ve got no business thinking about another man’s wife and that’s for sure, he told himself, and vowed to put her out of his mind. I’ll start with a double shot of whiskey before I go home for supper.
As was usually the case, Will was greeted warmly by Gus Johnson when he walked in the Morning Glory. “Figured you was most likely over in Injun Territory, since you ain’t been in for a while.” Will told him he had guessed right, but didn’t offer any details. Lucy Tyler waved to him from a table near the back of the saloon, where she was drinking with a fellow wearing a Boss of the Plains Stetson. Evidently the long-suffering prostitute had a promising customer, and Will was glad of it. He was tired and wanted a drink, a good supper, and a comfortable bed. He knew he could get the last two at Ruth Bennett’s boardinghouse, so he finished his drink and bade Gus a quick “Good night,” and left for home.
The cold evening breeze seemed to cut right through to his bones as he made the short walk to Bennett House. It struck him as odd that he always felt the cold more when he was back in town. When he bothered to think about it at all, he decided that it was because, when he was in the field, he was thinking less about comfort. With minor thoughts such as this, he was startled when he came to the picket fence in front of Bennett House and saw Sophie busy sweeping the front porch.
She paused to watch him as he opened the gate and walked up the path, the hunter returning home, his saddlebags over his shoulder, his rifle in his hand. “Well, well,” she said. “I see you found your way home again.”
“Reckon so,” he said. “I didn’t expect to see you sweepin’ the porch, though.”
“Why not?” she replied. “I’m the one who usually sweeps the porch before supper. Since Mama hired Margaret, I don’t help as much in the kitchen.”
“Yeah, but . . .” he stumbled. “I mean, I just didn’t figure to see you, figured you and your husband wouldn’t be stayin’ here with your mama.”
“Well, I guess that’s where you figured wrong. In the first place, I don’t have a husband.”
The impact of her statement struck him so suddenly that he had no time to disguise his shock. He thought at first that he had lost track of the date again. “But what about Christmas?” he blurted. “I thought you and Garth . . .”
“We decided that maybe it wasn’t the right thing to do,” she said. She left it at that without telling him that it was she who called the wedding off, to the dismay of not only Garth, but her mother as well as Garth’s parents. It was a cruel thing to do on the eve of the wedding, but after some long soul-searching, she knew that it was more humane than entering a union that was guaranteed to fail. As fine a man as Garth was, she could not agree to a marriage she was not totally committed to. She shouldn’t have let it go so far. It had been a cheerless Christmas morning that greeted them after she and her mother argued over the issue well into the early hours. Ruth was forced to admit defeat shortly before it was time to start breakfast for her boarders. Throughout the wrenching discussion, Sophie did not offer the one point that to her was the most telling reason. She never felt the small sensation of excitement in her bosom with Garth that she felt every time she saw the tall sandy-haired lawman striding confidently down the street toward the house.
Her statement rendered the confused young deputy helplessly lost for something to say. Speechless for a few moments, he finally managed to say, “Well, I reckon I’m sorry things didn’t work out for you.” Inside, he knew he had wished they would not marry, even though he thought he had no right to do so. Feeling totally at a loss for anything else to say that would be appropriate, he shifted back and forth nervously from one foot to the other for a few moments. Finally, he mumbled something about needing to wash up before supper, and went inside the house, leaving her shaking her head in frustration.
Maybe her instincts had been misleading her all along, she thought. Or was his skull too thick to read the signs? I’ll be damned if I’m going to spell it out for him, she thought. He’s going to have to approach me because he wants to. I swear I’ll die an old maid before I tell him how I feel. He’s going to have to tell me first. With that, she made an aggressive sweep with her broom, sending a small pile of dirt flying off the edge of the porch.
At the supper table that night, the other residents of Bennett House were all cordial to the young deputy marshal. The only one who seemed different was Ruth Bennett. He could not put his finger on it, even though Sophie’s mother was quietly polite. He caught her gazing at him a couple of times, only to look quickly away when he glanced back. He decided not to waste any more time wondering about it. Women were hard to figure out, anyway. So why not concentrate on the fine supper that Margaret and Ruth had prepared? It was a welcome relief from the almost steady diet of sowbelly and hardtack that had been his for the past several days.
The next day, Sophie and Ruth, too, appeared to settle back to a more normal atmosphere. At least, that was the way Will perceived it. Sophie, especially, returned to her usual lighthearted demeanor, even to the point of teasing about the week-old growth of light blond whiskers on his face. To drop him a hint, she took his shaving cup and his boar’s hair shaving brush from his room and set it on the stand in the washroom. He took the hint and made it a point to put them to work. And when he passed Sophie in the front parlor on his way out the door, she commented, “I almost didn’t recognize you without all that scrubby hair on your face.” He blushed and rubbed his chin. “Are you leaving town again?” she asked, even though he was not carrying his saddlebags and rifle.
“Nope. I’ve gotta hang around town till the judge tries that fellow I brought in,” he replied. “Don’t know when that’ll be, but it oughta be pretty soon, accordin’ to what Dan Stone told me.”
As it turned out, however, Tater Smith’s trial was moved back on Judge Parker’s docket. Will used the extra days to work with the horses he kept at Vern Tuttle’s stable. A couple of them had been idle long enough to need saddle-breaking again. The work caused Will to think about his days at the J-Bar-J when Boss Hightower was still alive. Those were hardworking days, but he remembered it now as a happy time, and he had to wonder why he had decided to leave the ranch to land in the violent business he was now in. I’ll go back to Texas, he thought, when the time is right.
Tater Smith’s trial started late one afternoon, and did not take long. Will was called to the witness stand and turned out to be Tater’s main defense. He stated his true opinion of the simple man on trial, testifying that Tater would not likely have committed the crimes he was charged with, had it not been for the overbearing influence of Jack Lynch. For whatever reason, Will couldn’t guess, but Judge Parker did not sentence Tater to the gallows. Maybe it was the Christmas season. Instead, Tater was sentenced to life imprisonment in the Arkansas State Prison in Little Rock. He gave Will a long, contented gaze as the guards led him out of the courtroom. He imagined he could guess the simple outlaw’s thoughts. He could live out his life enjoying the notoriety of being the only surviving member of the infamous Scorpion Jack Lynch’s gang.
* * *
It was after dark when Will walked down the street to Bennett House. He was surprised to find Sophie sitting in a rocking chair on the front porch, bundled up in a quilt against the cold. “What are you doin’ sittin’ out here in this weather?” Will asked.
“Oh, I don’t know,” she replied. “I just felt like I needed some cold air in my lungs, I guess.” She got up from the rocker. “How did the trial go?”
“All right, I reckon. They ain’t gonna hang him, and I was kinda glad th
ey ain’t.”
“You didn’t get any supper,” Sophie said. “I can find you something in the kitchen.”
“I appreciate it, Sophie, but I believe I’ll walk back up to the Mornin’ Glory. I don’t know why I didn’t just stop there to begin with. Too much confusion in my mind, I reckon. I could use a drink tonight and I’ll get something to eat there. Mammy’s always got some leftovers and there ain’t no sense in you havin’ to clean up the kitchen again.”
She started to tell him it would be no trouble, but decided he probably preferred to go to the Morning Glory. “All right,” she said, “but I don’t care if you change your mind.” He seemed more quiet than usual, even a little sad. On a sudden impulse, she stepped up close to him and kissed him tenderly on his cheek, then stepped quickly away. “Don’t drink too much of Gus Johnson’s whiskey,” she said. Flushed and confused, he could only stand there and stare at her for a few moments until she told him she would be in the kitchen if he changed his mind about eating. “Go on and get your drink,” she said, then remained there on the edge of the porch, watching him until he disappeared up the dark street.
She turned and was about to go inside when she heard a woman’s voice from the darkness beyond the porch. “Looks to me like you two are mighty sweet on each other.”
Sophie was startled. “Mama, is that you?” She stared at the figure emerging from the darkness and now approaching the steps. “What are you doing out in the yard?” And then she could see that it was not her mother. It was no woman she knew. “Is there something you want?” she asked when the strange woman walked up the steps. In the next moment she was stunned when she saw the pistol in her hand.
“Is there somethin’ I want? Yeah, there’s somethin’ I want. Do you know what it feels like to have your whole family murdered? I do. Will Tanner murdered my father and my four brothers. Now he’s gonna know how it feels, ’cause I’m gonna kill you, let him see how he likes it. I’m gonna let him cry over you for just a little while, then I’m gonna kill him.” She raised the revolver and aimed it at Sophie’s head.
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