“I wouldn’t think that it rained enough around here to wash out a road.”
“It don’t rain often,” Gideon said, “but when it does, it’s a real toad-strangler. You ever ride on a stagecoach, Morton?”
“Plenty of times,” Frank said.
“Bet you never wondered who kept the roads up, though, did you?”
Frank had to shake his head and admit that he hadn’t.
“In a lot of places, it’s convicts just like you and me who do the work.” Gideon grinned. “Hell, I don’t reckon this country could get along without its lawbreakers. We’re doin’ society a service by bein’ a bunch o’ jail birds.”
“You never did tell me what you did to get put in here, Gideon.”
“Yeah, I guess I owe you that much, since I know what you done.” A mournful expression came over Gideon’s long face. “I killed a woman.”
“Your wife?”
“Not hardly. I never got hitched. I was just a poor cowboy lookin’ for a good time, so I stopped off in town to find me a whore. I found one, all right, but I made the mistake o’ dozin’ off after we’d done our business. Woke up to find that gal tryin’ to steal my whole poke, not just what I’d paid her earlier.”
“So you shot her?”
Gideon shook his head. “Lord, no. I didn’t mean to kill her. I just grabbed her and shook her a mite, and she come out with a knife from somewhere and tried to stab me. I grabbed her wrist and we both fell down and that knife … well, it ended up planted right in her heart. Never my intention at all, but she was just as dead as if I’d meant to do it. The judge and jury didn’t believe me, neither, so here I am, owin’ the next fifteen years o’ my life to the territory of Arizona. It ain’t right, but what can you do?”
Frank just shook his head, indicating that he agreed about the futility of it all.
A few minutes later, Gideon asked for and received permission from the guards to go move his bowels. While he was gone, McCoy edged closer to Frank and said in a low voice, “Don’t believe that line of bull Gideon was just handing you, Morton.”
“What do you mean?” Frank asked, glad that McCoy was talking to him alone now, instead of just joining in the general conversation while Gideon was there.
“The way I heard it, it was no accident that Gideon killed that whore. Somebody who was still outside when it happened toid me he took that knife to her on pur pose. Cut her up real good with it, too. Said there was blood splattered all over the girl’s room in that whore house, and they found Gideon sitting in the middle of it, laughing.”
Frank thought about Gideon’s easygoing manner and ready smile and found it difficult to believe the gossip that McCoy was telling him. And yet he was well aware that it was almost impossible to look at a man and know what he was like inside. Some of the most brutal-appearing men had the kindest, gentlest natures, while others who seemed to radiate innocence had nests of evil snakes where their brain and heart should have been. Maybe McCoy was right about Gideon, maybe he wasn’t. It was hard to say.
But what was certain was that as far as the job that had brought Frank here was concerned, it didn’t matter a damn one way or the other.
As the group was being taken back to the cell block late that afternoon, Frank asked, “Now that this job is finished, what will they have us doing next?”
“Not much telling,” Gideon replied. “Maybe nothin’. We might sit in our cells for a month or more before they come up with somethin’ for us to do again. There’s a heap o’ convicts here, and not that much work.”
“I can’t sit in that damned cell,” Frank said with a growl in his voice. “I’ll go crazy if! do. I’d rather be out working on just about anything.”
“I want on one of those road details myself,” McCoy said. “Anything to be outside the walls of this place.” He gave a short, humorless bark oflaughter. “I don’t reckon that’s going to happen, though.”
“Why’s that?” Frank asked.
“They’ve got good reasons for not letting me outside.” McCoy didn’t offer any details, but Frank understood what he meant. As long as he was the only one who knew the hiding place of that stolen money, the authori ties didn’t want to take a chance on him escaping.
At least, that was the way it was as far as McCoy knew. He had no idea what plans were really afoot.
Frank wondered if he could somehow get a message to Warden Townsend. It would help matters if Townsend assigned McCoy to one of those road details-and Frank, too, of course. An escape could be made to look real if they were outside the prison. Hell, it would be real, Frank reflected. The guards wouldn’t know any dif ferent, and if any shots were fired, it would sure enough be real bullets buzzing through the air around them.
If he could pull that off, Frank thought, then McCoy would have no idea that he was actually working for the law. It was still going to take some work before such a ploy was possible, though.
And if he could, he’d like to get McCoy to trust him even more before then ….
They entered the cell block and passed another group of convicts being taken the other way. Frank felt eyes on him and glanced in their direction. He spotted two fa miliar faces in the other group-redheaded Jim Nash and bald Conner Jessup. The brutish Jessup glared at him. A bandage still covered the big man’s ear. Frank didn’t know what the injury looked like under that dress ing, but he would have been willing to bet that it wasn’t pretty. Jessup mouthed something as he went by, and Frank had no trouble deciphering the words.
I’m gonna kill you ….
Frank kept his face expressionless, but he didn’t really mind the threat.
In fact, he thought, there might even be a way to make it work to his advantage.
Chapter 12
Once a month, the prisoners who hadn’t caused any trouble were allowed out of their cells to spend an after noon in a large common area. An awning that jutted out from one of the buildings provided shade, and the men were given cigarette makings. They could sit in the shade, roll quirlies, and smoke, or they could walk around the common area. Those who had been confined and hadn’t been on any work details for a while gener ally chose to stretch their legs.
Gideon explained all this to Frank as they were herded into the common area along with fifty or sixty other pris oners. It had been almost a week since the ditch was com pleted, and during that time Frank had been stuck in his cell, unable to talk to McCoy or make any other progress on his plan. The time had been deadly dull, but at least he’d had a chance to figure out how he wanted to proceed. He would need a little luck …
And he was about to get it, he saw as he and Gideon and the other men in their group walked out into the common area. Cicero McCoy was already there, sitting under the awning with his back against the wall of the building, a cigarette dangling from his lip.
On the other side of the large open space, about fifty yards away, Jim Nash and Conner Jessup strolled along, talking quietly to each other. The bandage was gone from Jessup’s ear. Even at this distance, Frank could see that although the damage was healing, it had left an ugly scar and Jessup’s ear would never really look right again. Of course, the man hadn’t been any prize to look at to start with … but the mutilated ear didn’t help mat ters any.
Frank and Gideon went over to join McCoy, who still had a packet of papers and a tobacco pouch. He offered the makin’s to Frank first, who shook his head and said, “No, thanks.” Gideon took the tobacco and papers and began rolling a cigarette. His fmgers were deft and quick at the task. He set fire to his gasper with the quirly that McCoy was smoking. Another convict passing by took the pouch and papers and carried then down to another part of the shaded area. Nobody was going to fight over the makin’s, because they didn’t want even this once-a month privilege taken away from them.
Frank leaned his back against the cool stone wall and gazed around. He saw at least ten blue-uniformed guards around the perimeter of the common area, keeping their eyes on the prisoners. The guard
s weren’t carrying guns today, not with this many convicts loose, without even any leg irons or shackles. Instead, the guards carried stout wooden clubs, and they were all big, powerful men. No doubt they could shatter a skull with a single blow from one of the bludgeons. Of course, outnumbered by five to one as the guards were, the convicts could have overwhelmed them …
If not for the fact that the first man who made a threatening move toward a guard would get a bullet through the head from one of the marksmen in the towers, and they all knew it.
Gideon pulled deeply on his cigarette, making the tip glow a bright orange. He gave a satisfied “Ah … ” as he blew the smoke back out.
“They watch us like hawks, don’t they?” Frank said.
McCoy grunted. “What do you expect? The warden prides himself on the fact that hardly anybody has ever escaped from this place.”
“But they have escaped, haven’t they?”
McCoy nodded. “Yeah. But there’s nowhere to run except desert and badlands. Townsend sends guards after the men who get away, and nine times out of ten they come back with bodies. Mostly it’s the desert that kills the poor bastards.” He shrugged. “At least that’s what I’ve heard. I haven’t been here all that long, but nobody’s busted out since I got here so I don’t know for sure.”
“A man who knew his way around the desert might be able to make it, though,” Frank said in a deliberately thoughtful voice.
“I’ve heard that it’s been done,” McCoy agreed. “It would be a long shot.”
Frank grinned “Hell, that’s the best kind of shot. What fun is betting if you don’t have anything to lose?”
McCoy looked over at him and said, “You’re a real hardcase, aren’t you, Morton? You thinking about trying to bust out of here?”
“Do you ever think about anything else?”
“Women,” Gideon said. “All the damn time.”
Frank and McCoy both chuckled at the wistful note in the lanky killer’s voice.
Then Frank grew serious again as he saw that Nash and Jessup were approaching. The two outlaws had continued to make their circuit of the common area. They were going to pass by about ten feet in front of the spot where Frank, McCoy, and Gideon lounged.
Frank laughed and raised his voice. “Look at the ear on that one,” he said. “You wouldn’t think anything could make a bullet-headed bastard like that even uglier, but by God, I think I did it.”
Jessup swung his head toward Frank and glared. Nash snapped, “Layoff, Morton. Don’t try to start trouble with us.”
“You two started the trouble with your damned game,” Frank shot back. “As far as I’m concerned, Jessup got what he deserved. You’re the one who got off easy, Nash. I should’ve ripped your ear off, too.”
Jessup bunched his hamlike hands into fists, but Nash nudged his arm with an elbow. “Morton’s just runnin’ his mouth,” Nash said. “Better move on. One of those guards is watchin’ us pretty close.”
Jessup kept walking, but he sent another murderous glare back over his shoulder at Frank as he and Nash continued on their way. Gideon let out a low whistle and said, “I don’t know if I’d be baitin’ that big son of a bitch like that if I was you, Fred. Jessup’s half grizzly bear and half curly wolf, I reckon.”
Frank shook his head. “He doesn’t scare me. I’ve al ready whipped him once.” He raised his voice, since Nash and Jessup were still within earshot. “Yeah, I whipped him good.”
McCoy muttered, “You’re a crazy bastard, you know that, Morton? Maybe you better go sit somewhere else. I don’t need any trouble.”
“No trouble;’ Frank said, sitting back and crossing his arms over his chest. “That big galoot just gets under my skin, is all.”
He pretended not to watch Nash and Jessup as they circled the common area again, but really Frank was keeping an eye on them. As they approached for a second time, he saw Jessup muttering something and Nash making a heated response. Nash took hold of Jessup’s arm, but the big man shook him off. He turned and strode into the shaded area.
Frank came to his feet, bristling with belligerence just as Jessup was. Behind him, Gideon muttered, “Uh-oh.”
“What do you want, Jessup?” Frank demanded.
Jessup pointed a blunt finger at him. “You and me are gonna have it out one of these days, Morton. We’re both gonna be in here for a long time-“
“The rest of our lives, if Arizona Territory gets its way,” Frank drawled.
Jessup went on as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “-and sooner or later I’ll get my chance to settle the score with you. I’ll never forget what you done to me.”
Frank gave him a sneering grin. “I reckon not. You’ll remember it every time you go to lay on that bad ear.”
“I’ll do more than give you a bad ear. I’ll twist your head nght off your shoulders, little man.”
Frank shook his head. “You couldn’t do it before and you can’t do it now or any other time. The only way you could beat me is if you and Nash and probably two or three of your friends ganged up on me. That’s the kind of cowards you are.”
Jessup stepped closer, his face reddening. “You son of a bitch, You wouldn’t talk so big if you didn’t have your friends with you.”
“McCoy and Gideon don’t have a damned thing to do WIth this, Frank said WIth a shake of his head. “If you start the ball, they’ll stay out of it.”
McCoy put in coolly, “That’s right, Morton. We won’t take a hand if Nash doesn’t. But maybe you better think about this, anyway. Jessup’s mighty big.”
“Yeah, but he’s hollow inside,” Frank said. “No guts. And no brains in his head, either. Reckon they all leaked out when I tore his ear half off.”
He saw rage flare in Jessup’s piggish eyes and knew that he had finally pushed the big man too far. It had taken damned long enough, he thought as Jessup rushed forward, swinging a sledgehammer fist. Nash made a grab for his sleeve but missed. Jessup was consumed by fury now, and he wasn’t thinking about the guards or anything else except battering his enemy’s face into a crimson ruin.
Frank hoped the sharpshooters didn’t make a habit of killing prisoners who got into fights with each other, only the ones who threatened the guards. But it was a little too late to worry about that possibility now ….
Jessup was fast for a man of his massive size. But Frank Morgan had lived as long as he had because he possessed a rare combination of speed and instinct and reflex. He ducked under Jessup’s sweeping blow and stepped in to smash a right and a left into the big man’s belly. Hitting Jessup in the stomach wasn’t quite as bad as punching that granitelike jaw, but his torso was over laid with slabs of muscle and Frank could tell that his blows didn’t do much good. While Jessup was still off balance, Frank stomped one of his feet as hard as he could.
Jessup yelled and hopped backward. That told Frank a lot. The bruiser had bad feet. That didn’t really come as a surprise. Those feet had to carry around a lot of weight. And if the feet were bad, the knees might be, too.
Jessup recovered and came at him again, flailing an other roundhouse punch. Frank moved with desperate speed, knowing that if one of those huge fists ever con nected with all of Jessup’s strength behind it, the fight would be over. As it was, the blow clipped the outside of Frank’s shoulder and still had enough power to jolt him halfway around.
He turned the movement to his advantage, spinning away.from another charge. As he did so, he saw Nash standing there tensely with his fists clenched and knew the redhead was thinking about jumping into the fight. McCoy and GIdeon were on their feet now, though, and Nash had to be recalling what the bank robber had said about staying out of the fight as long as he did. Nash held back.
Frank heard guards yelling, too, and knew that he had only seconds before they would arrive and break up the fight. If It was over now, the guards might not do any thing except throw him in the Dark Cell. They might not even do that. He could wind up back in his regular cell locked up there for we
eks. He couldn’t take that chance:
He darted to the side again as Jessup lunged at him. The move put him to the giant’s right. Frank leaned to his left, lifted his right foot, and drove the heel of his work shoe into the side of Jessup’s knee as hard as he could. A Cajun gambler in New Orleans had taught him that move years ago, and while he hated fighting like a Frenchman, sometimes it worked.
This time it did. Frank could have sworn that he heard something ripping inside Jessup’s leg. Then he couldn’t hear anything except the big man’s agonized screams as Jessup collapsed and started rolling around on the ground, clutching his ruined knee. He might never walk again and he sure as hell wouldn’t ever walk right, and Frank might have felt a tad sorry about doing that to him … except for the fact that Jessup was a brutal son of a bitch who had murdered numerous people during his career as an outlaw and hired killer. Frank figured he had a little pain coming to him.
Besides, it would get Frank what he wanted, too.
He tried to bear that in mind as one of the guards ham mered a club across his back and knocked him to the ground. Several more of the blue-uniformed men closed in around him and hit him again and again. He didn’t fight back, just lay there and absorbed the punishment they were dishing out, even though doing so went against the grain for him. Through the legs of the swarming guards, he caught glimpses of McCoy and Gideon stand ing there and watching the beating with grim looks on their faces. But they didn’t make a move to interfere, and Frank was glad of that. He didn’t want any complications.
After a while, the guards had had enough. They stopped clubbing him and grabbed hold of him to drag him to his feet. Frank was only semiconscious as they hauled him out of the common area. He struggled to focus his eyes and his thoughts as he realized he wasn’t being taken back to the usual cell block. That was good. But not good enough yet.
“Take him to the infirmary,” one of the guards or dered. “We’ll let the surgeon look him over, and then the warden’ll want to have a talk with him before we throw him in the Dark Cell.”
Ambush Valley Page 12