by L. J. Martin
There was no sense trying to track them in the dark, not that I would have too as I was sure the trail would lead directly to the Lazy Snake.
And I couldn’t imagine they would hurt the reverend and his daughter, none the less…. They were a lowlife bunch, so I couldn’t be sure. I decided to survey the battleground then try and figure what to do. My side, still weeping blood, was getting stiff as hell, and I was having to stop and catch my breath, and get the dizziness to stop…but on examining my wound in the light of McGregor’s kerosene lamp, I doubted if the slug had caught bowel so I guessed I’d live, if the green rot didn’t set in.
We decided to catch a little sleep in shifts, then with the morning light, so still I could barely move, we walked out and circled round the place, finding each location where we thought a body might be found, and we found five of them, but only two who I recognized. Willy Stark and Tate Jorgensen were both down from gunshots, Willy by Angel’s Remington and Tate with half his chest blown away by my big Sharps.
The one I’d shot just before Angel had fired from the sage was wounded and I doubted would last the day, but he was a fella I’d never laid eyes on before, and a blood trail led from where Angel had shot the other one to where he’d managed to mount a horse and ride off.
A six foot circle of blood was around the first trap, the one on the trail leading in from the smoketrees, and the other, near where Tate had fallen, had captured another fella I’d not laid eyes upon. He was a husky sort, big as a hogshead barrel and ugly as the hog it was named after, and he was dead from bleeding out, I guessed, as he had no other wound other than where his leg had been snapped three quarters through. He’d dragged the trap fifty paces, and left a thick trail of blood all that way.
In surveying the rest of the scene, I figured nine riders had come to pay us a visit, and only five had ridden away. Not a bad nights work for a gimpy ex-soldier and a Mexican sheepherder who was yet to reach his majority.
I was happy with it.
Four of those who’d laid my sister and her family in their graves were now in or staring into the deep darkness of theirs, and I was not a bit saddened by the fact another four had met their maker along the way. For they had been doing the devil’s work, as I considered Dillon the devil on earth.
They should have picked better company.
Now it was the Indian, Crooked Arm; Seth Rheinhart, Dillon’s nephew; Shank Cavanaugh; and the herb bull Colonel Mace Dillon, and my promise to myself and to my sister’s ghost would be fulfilled.
By the time we harnessed the McGregor’s freight/hay wagon, dragged my good horse Dusty off into the burned sage until we found a decent spot to leave him to the critters—ash to ash, dust to dust—loaded the four bodies on the wagon along with the wounded and comatose cowhand, and had buried my good dog, I was wondering if I was going to live to see another day.
We had no other choice, as I could not sit up to hold the traces. Angel had to drive me into find the doc so he could treat me and the comatose cowhand, even if it meant Angel might end up in the hoosegow.
I guess I passed out, almost before we were out of the barnyard, as I awoke in strange surroundings, not unpleasant, but strange and new to me, and I had a dressing on my side.
Even then, for a fleeting second, I thought maybe I was dead, as it was a beautiful woman, near an angel, bending over me.
But it wasn’t a spirit, it was Lizzy, with a glass of spirits in hand.
“Howdy,” I said, but so tired I could barely keep my eyes open to admire her.
“Howdy yourself. You’re in my rooms, out behind Sally’s. Doc said with luck you’ll be fine. You lost a lot of blood.”
“I’m—“
“Don’t talk, rest. Nobody knows you’re here but the doc, John Pointer, and Judge Thorne. Doc had to go out to the Lazy Snake, as it seems a bunch of his hands are all shot up. Doc and Mayor Pointer are telling Dillon that they put you on yesterdays train for San Francisco.”
“Pity,” I mumbled. “I was just I’ to like the place.”
“Yes, a real pity.”
“Go to sleep. I’ll have some soup for you when you wake up…then we are putting you on a train out of Nemesis.”
I avoided a response to that, and instead asked, “Angel?”
“Last I heard he’s in jail, in a cell with Natchez Pete and that fella you brought in.”
“Damn it.”
“I’ll make sure he eats well. The judge is getting ready to try Natchez Pete, so the boy will have to wait a good long while before he comes before the court. He’ll be fine.”
Then it dawned on me. “Maddy and the reverend?”
“Out at Dillon’s place, or so it’s been reported. The judge rode out with the doc to see them, as you were raving about them in your stupor.”
“I hope they’re okay.”
“No reason they shouldn’t be,” she said, innocently. “We’ll know tomorrow.”
“Bull crap. Dillon’s a pig in silk shirts. His sons a bitches killed my horse and my dog…both of them far better critters than Dillon and his swine.”
With that she laughed, then her tone turned serious. “I’m real sorry about your animals.”
“Me too. Sleep,” I mumbled, my eyelids heavy as anvils.
“Yes, sleep.”
*
It took a week for me to regain my strength. Doc Ironsmith had told Lizzy that it was loss of blood that took me down, and, God willing, I’d be back to normal in a few days. I was unable to watch Natchez Pete get his neck stretched, but that’s okay, as before this is over I’ll have a dozen lifetimes of watching folks die.
The hell of it is, the judge reported that yes, Maddy and the reverend were out at Dillon’s, but were on a sightseeing ride around the ranch, according to Dillon, and so the judge missed them. So no one has seen or heard of them since.
I strapped my gun back on my hip on Tuesday morning, just as Lizzy arrived with my breakfast.
“It’s too soon, Tag,” she said.
“Too soon for what?” I asked.
“You know damn well for what. To go back out on the street, that’s what. And besides, who’ll I play cribbage with.”
“Lizzy, you are a princess, and if life were my own, I’d never leave here.”
She laughed. “Now, I didn’t mean that much cribbage,” then she turned serious again. “Don’t go out, Tag.”
“I’ve got to finish this, Lizzy, and I’ve got to find out what’s up with Maddy and her father. It’s my fault—“
“You said they insisted you stay.”
“They did, but still, had I not been a tenant of theirs, none of this would have happened to them.”
“So, you think you’re going out to the Lazy Snake?”
“Unless you know another way.”
“How about I go out there, take some of the girls. A social call. I might even make some money.”
“I thought Brighid told me, long ago, that the colonel was against sporting women in his town?”
“He is, for everyone other than the colonel.”
“The hell you say.”
“I say the truth. And he likes them skinny, as skinny as Brighid.”
“No.”
“Yes, every Saturday afternoon for the last couple of years, that’s why she had to quit socializing. She’s his, exclusively. She meets him at the Mystic, four sharp, every Saturday. He often stays over in the Mystic’s best rooms for church on Sunday…to come back to Jesus, I guess.”
I had to laugh at that one. “And no one else knows?”
“No one else would say they knew, if they knew.”
“I’m headed to my office.”
“How are you going to explain a week missing?”
“Might not have to, and I have to see about Angel and get him out before he gets a year or two in the pen.”
“I didn’t tell you, but they gave your job to Shorty.”
Now that one really made me laugh and slap my thighs. “The hell you say
. He couldn’t spit in a bucket if his head was in it.”
She was silent for a long moment, then for the first time, reached up and put her arms around my neck. “I’m getting attached to you, Tag. I don’t want to be puttin’ flowers on your headstone.”
“Hell, I couldn’t afford a headstone, Lizzy. I imagine they’ll just leave me out in the desert for the coyotes, like I had to leave ol’ Dusty.”
“You got any feelings for me, Tag?”
It was my turn to get serious. “Lizzy, I got a job of work to do, and I’m surprised I’ve lived this long. Should I finish it, and finish it in one piece, which I doubt, I’d like to talk on that some more.”
I gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek, and pulled away.
“Don’t go, Tag. I’ll sell this place and we can go to Nevada City, or San Francisco, and start up another saloon. You can sit shotgun, and I’ll run the place. You owe me a bunch of baths, and you can pay them back…and more.”
I was a little taken aback and this beautiful woman’s straight talk. She’d been caring for me for a week, giving me baths with a wet rag—not in personal places, but more personal than any woman ever had—and been feeding me until I could climb in a tub on my own power and feed myself. And, come to think of it, I was damn pleased with the whole arrangement, and didn’t want to walk back out on a Nemesis street and face whoever was left of the Lazy Snake riders.
It was a tempting proposition, and had I not made a promise to myself and to my sister’s ghost….
“I got to go, Lizzy. I’ll be back, God willin’ and the creek don’t rise.”
She sighed deeply. “What kind of flowers did you say you wanted.”
“Lizzy belles, prettiest flower in the whole world,”
I said, with a smile, and turned and walked out. Wentworth’s horse was tied outside the office, alongside Shorty’s.
“What the hell,” Wentworth said when I walked in. He stared at me for a long moment. Shorty stood slack jawed, then finally sputtered, “I think…I thought…I was told…you’re supposed to be in San Francisco.”
“Nope. Congratulations, I’m told you’re the new City Marshal.”
He stiffened. “Yep, and I’m keeping the job.”
“You’re welcome to it, Shorty.”
I turned to Wentworth. “And congratulations to you, sheriff. I hear you brought Natchez Pete back in and earned that fat reward.”
“I did, and I’m keepin’ it.”
“And you’re welcome to it.”
“You got some answering to do?”
“Regarding?”
“A wagon load of dead bodies.”
“In the line of duty, sheriff. Remember, I was the city marshal, and I was attacked by a platoon of assholes.”
“Humph,” he said.
“You want a statement, I’ll run the judge down and bring him over and he can sit in—“
“Judge left town, right after the trial.”
“How about the kid?”
“What kid?” he asked, which surprised me a little.
“Angel Sanchez, who I heard was in your jail.”
“So now it’s my jail.”
“He was in the goddamn jail. You know exactly who I’m talking about.”
“Oh, that kid. We let him go. He’s back out at Henderson’s.”
“Oh, yeah. I’ll ride out and say hello.”
“He’s not there, said he was going back to Mexico.”
“Bullshit, Wentworth.”
He shrugged, and gave me a smug look. “That’s what he tol’ me, he was going straight back which was one of the reasons I let him out.”
I stared at him until he cut his eyes away, and I knew he was lying. If he’s hurt that kid, his name goes on my list.
The damned list just don’t ever seem to go down.
“Colonel Dillon wants to have a confab with you, Slade,” Wentworth said.
I stretched and yawned, and replied, “I was thinking about taking a ride out that way.”
“Maybe I’ll ride along with you. I’d enjoy seeing the Lazy Snake boys take you down.”
“Bet you would. I got some things to do here in town first.”
“Right. Hear you lost that big ugly dog, and your horse.”
“Yep. I heard Dillon lost that bull he prizes so much.”
Wentworth looked puzzled. “I didn’t hear that.”
“Well, your not a soothsayer, and I just might be.” I moved to the door, left without a goodbye or go to hell, and headed for Sally’s.
Tobin “Curly” Stewart, Dillon’s range boss, was at the bar, alone, having breakfast. He looked up as I entered, and casually laid a palm on the butt of his sidearm.
Chapter Twenty-Two
I hadn’t traded two words with the man since I’d been in town, as unlike the rest of the Lazy Snake riders, he seemed to mind his own business. But maybe now was the time to get to know the gent. I saddled up near the bar stool next to him, just like I was somebody.
He looked me up and down, then asked straight out, “You got a bone to pick with me?”
“You tell me. If I do, I don’t know about it.”
He nodded and seemed to relax, then confidently gave me his back and went back to his breakfast.
When I climbed up on the stool next to him, he again eyed me carefully. “I thought you was in California?”
“Oh, is that the word out at the Lazy Snake.”
“It was. But the boss man out there didn’t believe it. He thinks you been hiding out somewheres?”
“He does, does he?” I said.
“He did anyway. I’m no longer employed there, so I don’t know what he’s thinking today.”
“You quit?”
“Let’s just say, I’m no longer employed out there.”
Polkinghorn wiped the bar coming our way, looking a little concerned. “You eating or drinking or both?” he asked.
“I’ll have a some eggs and a slab of meat.”
“And coffee?”
“Why not. And some toasted bread and some of that good yellow jam.”
Brighid Fimple came in from the kitchen about that time, carrying that big enameled coffee pot. She stopped and her eyes flared, seeing me. I guess Lizzy had not told even ol’ skinny Brighid that I was under her wing, but then knowing she was tight with Dillon, I understood why.
“Another cup, and tell cookie another breakfast,” Polkinghorn yelled at her across the saloon, and she spun and quickly came back in carrying another cup as well.
“So,” I said to Stewart, “you headed out of town? Not much call for a ranch foreman anywhere else here abouts.”
“I am. If the next train has a livery car to take my horse and rig, I’m headed west.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, what came down between you and Dillon?”
He didn’t speak for a long moment, carefully chewing his breakfast, sipping some coffee, then turned to me. “I do mind your asking, to be truthful, but I’m going to tell you anyway. He’s got Miss Maddy McGregor there and her father. He’s not exactly kidnapped them, keeping them in high style, but making lots of excuses as to why they can’t return to town, to the point of obstinate. I don’t abide by a man mistreating a woman, and told him so. He, needless to say, disagreed, and for that and other disagreements, he gave me the boot.”
“For what purpose is he holding her?”
“I think, he thinks you’re still in the neighborhood. He made some inquiries with the doc and with the ticket agent at the train station, and he’s not convinced that he’s getting the truth about you being gone. Ticket agent said you boarded no train that he knew of. I think Dillon’s hoping you’ll show up out his way. He’s got his hackles up over you…to say the least.”
“The hell you say,” I chuckled at that.
“I say.”
“I’d hate to disappoint the colonel,” I said, giving his former segundo a tight smile.
“Take an army,” Stewart said.
�
��Where’s that new bull he crows about?”
“Why?”
“Just wondered. Figured he built him a palace, the way he goes on about him.”
“Fact is he built him his own little barn, out past the big barn, with his own paddock and water and such. He’s a fine looking animal, but you’d think he was Dillon’s own flesh and blood, they way he goes on about him.”
“Naw, he’s way prettier than Dillon, I’d guess.”
Steward laughed at that.
Brighid Fimple arrived with my breakfast, and it was a while before we talked anymore.
He wiped his mouth and stood, dropping a fifty cent piece on the bar.
“You headed back out to the Snake,” I asked.
“Never again. But he’ll know your about before morning’s out,” he said, eyeing Brighid Fimple across the room.
“Good, maybe he’ll send some more boys in to call on me.”
Curly Stewart laughed with that. “Doubt it. He’s got a man with a new peg leg being fitted, and are already short some other hands as I hear you know well. I imagine he’ll wait for you to come calling.”
“Ain’t he the clever one,” I said.
“He is that, Slade. Put some holes in his silk shirt for me, you get the chance.” He tipped his hat, and walked out.
“Good luck, Curly,” I called after him, and he waved over his shoulder.
Polkinghorn came back to where I sat and collected the four bits off the bar.
“You have any idea what they did with the boy, Angel Sanchez?” I asked the tall barman.
“The judge cut him loose,” he said.
“The hell you say.”
“I say. The judge sent him packing before he left town. I imagine the boy was headed back to Roland Henderson’s place. Wentworth and Dillon was mad as hell about it.”
I sighed deeply, relieved that the boy was okay. “Anybody been watching the McGregor’s place since they’ve been gone?”
“Pointer’s had a boy going out there to feed and water the stock.”
I paid up, tipped my hat, and headed for the livery. Phinias still had the McGregor’s wagon and team, and helped me harness up. Stopping at Pointer’s store, I collected a number of items Lizzy told me he’d been holding for me, including my traps, my Sharps, my Winchester, and my two LeMat revolvers. My Army Colt and my stubby saber were on my belt when I was delivered to the docs, so I was pretty well whole again. Pointer informed me the gray was in the pasture at McGregor’s, and Angel had left my tack in the barn.