“Then you will not change your testimony, Mr MacWilliams?” Nancy asked.
“Alas!” Big Ed said. He’d heard that used in a play he’d seen in Dallas once. It seemed to fit the scene he was trying to play out. “I cannot! But I am here for a better purpose than to fret over Rawley Pierson’s life.”
“As far as I’m concerned there is no better purpose, sir!” Nancy cried.
“You must forget him, Miss Nancy, and get on with your own life,” Big Ed said. “You’ve suffered a lot what with your poor old pa getting shot like he did. I want to take you away from this misery, Miss Nancy. I have come to ask you to marry up with me.”
“What?”
“Rawley Pierson is a killer!” Big Ed exclaimed. “He ain’t good enough for you!” He lowered his voice. “Why, I hate to say this to you, Miss Nancy—seeing as how you’re a lady and all—but Rawley Pierson took up with soiled doves in that saloon. One in particular by the name o’ Rosalie Kinnon.”
“I do not believe that, Mr MacWilliams!” Nancy said. “And I'll thank you not to speak of such indelicate matters in my presence.”
“Forgive me, please,” Big Ed said. “But if I got to talk about the way Rawley Pierson carries on, I can’t help but be kinda dirty and low-down like him. And I’m a desperate man. Why I’m a desperado of love, Miss Nancy.”
Nancy struggled to control her anger. Finally she said, “Sir, I have no intention of marrying you. And I’ll thank you not to set foot on the Circle H Bar again. And if you ever do, I’ll shoot you myself!” She slammed the door in his face.
Big Ed stood there for several moments, consumed by rage and disappointment. He’d been turned down by women before, but this was the first time the rejection had been done along with a threat to put a bullet in his hide.
It took a few moments, but he finally got himself under control. He took another calming, deep breath and left the porch, going back to his horse. He swung up into the saddle and looked back at the house. “You’ll be proud and happy to become Mrs. Big Ed MacWilliams afore this is all said and done, missy!” he hissed.
Big Ed pulled on the reins of his horse and galloped out of the ranch yard. He knew exactly where to find Tim Hawkins.
The young man, wanting very much to avoid both Nancy’s company and the cattle camp where the cowboys and Chaw Stevens would be, had fixed himself a bivouac of sorts among a stand of cottonwoods located between the ranch and the town. There was every chance that he might be the one dangling from a rope if a lynching got on the drovers’ collective minds.
Tim had drunk himself insensible that first night, and was now terribly hungover as he sat around the embers of fire where a pot of coffee boiled with gurgling bubbles.
When he heard a horse approaching, he stood up to see who it was. After spotting Big Ed MacWilliams, Tim sat back down and went back to staring at the campfire.
Big Ed reined up and quickly dismounted. “I’m glad to see you ain’t cut out for some faraway place. I ain’t done with you yet.”
Tim looked up at him. “For the love o’ God, Big Ed! What more could you want of me?”
“I ain’t asked for half o’ what I could get outta you,” Big Ed said. “And don’t you forget it!”
“I asked you what more do you want,” Tim said sullenly. “I ain’t in a mood to put up with threats.”
“I’m dead set on marrying your sister,” Big Ed said.
“She won’t have you,” Tim said.
“That’s for you to change,” Big Ed said.
“How?”
“You might start by telling her it’s the only way you’re gonna keep that goddamned ranch,” Big Ed said.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Tim yelled. He leaped to his feet. “I lied for you at the trial. You said that’d wipe out all them IOUs. I don’t owe you one goddamned cent, Big Ed.” He suddenly calmed down and laughed. “Hell! You even give ’em to me. I tore ’em up.”
“I didn’t give all of ’em to you, you dumb sonofabitch,” Big Ed said with a grin. “I still got enough paper on you to take two or three of them Circle H Bars. And your signature is on ever’ one of em.
Tim’s hand dropped to his pistol. “You low-down—”
Big Ed whipped a derringer from inside his coat. “Don’t try playing the gunman with me, boy! I faced down more men than you can imagine, and shot my share too.”
Tim lifted his hand away from the weapon. He knew he’d been driven into a deep hole with no way out. “Have your say.”
“Aside from making me your brother-in-law, you’re also gonna let me know what them ranchers are up to,” Big Ed said. “You’ll go to their association meetings and listen to ever’thing they plan to do. Then you’ll tell me all about it, understand?”
“What the hell do you care about what the ranchers has got up their sleeves?” Tim asked.
“I got a personal interest in what happens here on the Diablos,” Big Ed said. “I want them Easterners to buy up this territory.”
Tim’s face paled. “Are you behind them raiders? The ones that killed my pa?”
Big Ed grinned crookedly. “You don’t ask me questions, boy! For all intents and purposes I already own the Circle H Bar.”
Tim almost vomited with rage. But something deep inside his being told him that this was not the time or place to make any plays. Although visibly shaken, he stood there, teeth clenched, looking at the other man.
Big Ed got back up on his horse. “Take care, Tim Hawkins. You ain’t in no position to get sassy or mean. And if you want to avoid further misery, you’ll do exactly as I say.” He swung the horse around and kicked it into a gallop as he headed back for the town of Duncan.
The ride from the campsite was less than a half hour. Big Ed didn’t go to the Deep River Saloon. Instead he went directly to the jail. Once there, he went inside to speak with Sheriff Dan Sims.
Sims stood at the door leading to the cells. He kept a wary eye on the prisoner, Rawley Pierson, when Big Ed came into the office. “What’s up?” Sims asked.
“I got to talk to you,” Big Ed said.
“Let’s make it quick,” Sims said. He withdrew into the interior of the room and lowered his voice. “I got plans for Pierson.”
“That’s what I come to find out,” Big Ed said. “I ain’t heard nothing since you got so all-fired chummy with that sonofabitch Witherspoon.”
“You don’t tell me my business, Ed,” Sims said. “I’ll deal with who I want, won’t I?”
Big Ed eased down. “Sure, Dan. I didn’t mean nothing. I’m just worried, that’s all.”
“I got definite plans worked out,” Sims said. “What’s going on?” Big Ed asked.
“Well, I reckon you’ve also figured out that it’s too risky to try a hanging tomorrow,” Sims said. “Them cowpokes is gonna come in from the Diablos and put an end to it.”
“Are you gonna string him up sooner?” Big Ed asked.
“I ain’t gonna string him up at all,” the lawman replied. “Rawley Pierson is gonna get shot trying to escape tonight.”
“I don’t follow you,” Big Ed said puzzled. “But I gotta admit I like the direction you seem to be headed.”
“I’m gonna make a deal with the bastard,” Sims explained. “I’ll tell him it’d serve ever’body’s purpose best if he just got off the Diablos and stayed off. I’ll tell him that if he agrees to leave, I’ll let him walk outta here. I already got his horse tied up in back to convince him.”
“Why not just shoot him now?” Big Ed said. “You can tell the townfolks that he jumped you.”
“Nobody but a damn fool would try to escape a jail in a town like this in broad daylight,” Sims explained. “And I reckon most folks around here know that Pierson has a lot o’ savvy. If he was to try a break, it’d be at night.”
“I reckon you’re right,” Big Ed allowed.
“Hell, yes, I’m right!” Sims insisted. “Leave it to me. I’ll get him afore he’s gone a half-dozen steps past
the back door.”
“It’ll be dark,” Big Ed cautioned him. “Suppose you miss.”
“I brought in the boys from the hideout,” Sims said. “They’re scattered around town and can cover any place Pierson might run off to.”
“I’ll be ready at the saloon,” Big Ed said. “Hank Delong and Joe Black can be standing by too.”
“Pierson ain’t got a chance,” Sims said. “Why don’t you get on back to the Deep River now? I’ll start this thing rolling with Pierson.”
Big Ed nodded. He went to the door and waved back with a wink before going out into the street.
Sims walked back to his position by the door. He looked in at Rawley sitting handcuffed and shackled in his cell. The sheriff grinned. “How’d you like to get them things took off?”
Rawley looked up at him. “Sure. Send out for some fried chicken and dumplings too while you’re at it.”
“I ain’t joshing you, Pierson,” Sims said. “I’m willing to get you outta them irons.”
“I bet.”
“And outta this jail too,” Sims added.
“You’re fixing to do that when you hang me in the morning, ain’t you?”
“Maybe a hanging ain’t necessary,” Sims said. “Maybe it’d be best for ever’body if you managed to get away from here tonight.”
Rawley displayed a quizzical look. “What’re you getting at, Sims?”
“C’mon, Pierson,” Sims, said. “They ain’t nobody here but you and me. You know we skunked you. And Tim Hawkins knows we skunked you too.”
“That won’t make no differ’nce to me when I’m swinging on that tree out there,” Rawley said.
“I said that might not be a good thing,” Sims said. “Especially if Tim Hawkins gets a twinge o’ conscience. He might think things over and come riding in here tomorrow and save you by telling the truth.”
“And maybe he won’t,” Rawley said.
“That’s a chance we don’t want to take,” Sims said. “And what if he starts yapping away a few weeks or months from now? That’ll still mean big trouble around here.”
“I reckon so,” Rawley said.
“So what if I let you ride outta here tonight, will you just keep a-going?”
“Damn right I will!”
“I already got your horse out there,” Sims said. “He’s all saddled and ready to go. Hop over to the window and take a gander.”
Rawley struggled to his feet. He made his way over to the barred opening and looked out. “I reckon you’re telling the truth. You let me walk outta here tonight, Sims, and I swear to you that I’ll ride like the wind and never come back on the Diablos. You can count on that.”
“I am,” Sims said. He pulled the keys off his belt. “Now let me get you outta them irons like I said I would.”
Twenty-One
Rawley Pierson lay on the bunk in the cell. Wide awake and nervous, he rubbed his wrists where the cruel handcuffs had pinched his flesh for long hours. It was a relief to be rid of not only the iron confinements that had bound his hands, but also the shackles from around his ankles. But that improvement in his physical comfort did nothing to help his patience.
He still felt agitated and apprehensive, even after the conversation with Sheriff Dan Sims. Chaw had come to visit him the previous night, staying in the shadows as the two whispered back and forth while Rawley kept a sharp eye and ear out for any intrusion by his keeper.
Chaw had assured him that there would be no hanging. The ranchers and cowboys would come to town to prevent that. The cowmen were too grateful for all the help Rawley had given them to allow him such a terrible and ignoble death.
While the knowledge of any potential rescue by his friends gave Rawley deep feelings of relief, he feared the bloodshed that could result from any rash actions. The lives of some mighty nice folks might get snuffed out. And it would all be on his account. Rawley didn’t know if he could live with that or not.
Then Sims had offered him that way out. But since talking to Sheriff Dan Sims, the time had seemed to crawl along endlessly. His mood swung between elation and depression as the hours dragged by in the Duncan town jail.
Now it was dark outside, and the moon slid out from behind the clouds and threw a bright light on that edge of the big, wide Diablos Range. The noise in the Deep River Saloon had finally quieted down, and Rawley guessed the time to be a bit past midnight. A noise in the office caught his attention and he looked toward the door.
Sheriff Dan Sims stepped into the cell block. “Well, Pierson. Do you feel rabbity?”
“I do,” Rawley answered getting to his feet.
Sims opened the barred door. He handed Rawley’s gunbelt and pistol to him. “Remember your promise. Get the hell out of Duncan and off the Diablos and stay off. Right?”
“Right!”
“It wouldn’t be a bad idea if you cleared Texas altogether,” Sims suggested. “That might save a lotta folks plenty o’ trouble. And that goes double for your pals on the ranches.”
“Me and Chaw was headed for New Mexico when we come here,” Rawley said. “I reckon that’s the best place to go.”
“Well, you write to your old pal and tell him where you are when you get there,” Sims warned him. “When I said to vamoose, I meant now. I don’t want you waiting around for Chaw Stevens.”
“Sure,” Rawley said. He quickly buckled on his weapon. He pulled the pistol, noting the lightness of its weight. “My iron’s empty.”
Sims grinned. “Damn right. I ain’t no fool, Pierson. You might be having bad feelings toward me. Know what I mean?”
“I sure do,” Rawley said. “Well, so long, Sims. It ain’t been nice knowing you.”
“Likewise,” Sims replied.
Rawley turned and walked toward the door leading to the outside. He opened it and looked out, surveying the scene. “I don’t see nobody.”
“There ain’t supposed to be nobody,” Sims said. He eased his pistol from its holster and aimed dead on Rawley Pierson’s back.
A pistol blasted, lighting up the cells.
Sims gasped and staggered back, dropping his Colt. Chaw Stevens stepped inside, his smoking gun in his right hand. He held a Winchester carbine in his left. “Surprise, you lying backshooting bastard!”
The sheriff stumbled sideways into the wall and slid down it into a sitting position. “Goddamn it!” he gasped.
“I was squatting outside the jail there and Rawley told me about the deal you offered him. You must really think we’re stupid, Sims,” Chaw said. “We didn’t believe for a minute that you’d turn him a-loose. You got more to gain by killing Rawley than trusting him to leave the Diablos. So it seemed smart for me to be here as a backup.”
Rawley busily loaded his own pistol from the bullets in his gunbelt. “Did you bring my carbine?”
“This is it,” Chaw said, tossing the weapon to his friend. “Now we better make a beeline outta here.”
“Get me some help, boys,” Sims pleaded in a weak voice.
“Piss up a rope,” Chaw said.
“There ain’t no help anyhow,” Rawley pointed out. “You know Duncan ain’t got a doctor.”
Sims sighed and breathed shallowly. “I’m hurting, boys.”
“I’ll bet you are!” Rawley said coldly. “I reckon taking a shot in the chest like that ought to hurt just about anybody.”
“C’mon, Rawley!” Chaw urged him.
Rawley took another look at the sheriff, noting the glazed stare that had come in his eyes. The end had come fast. “He’s cashed in, Chaw.”
“Good riddance.” Chaw led the way out the door, then quickly jumped back in. “There’s a crowd gathering.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Rawley said. “If they’re from the saloon they’re drunk. And if they just got outta bed to see what the hell’s going on, they ain’t thinking any clearer than the drinkers. Follow me.”
He rushed past Chaw and went outside, his pistol barking fire and slugs in the air in an effort to
discourage any onlookers from forming an impromptu posse. Chaw followed. The pair rushed to their horses and vaulted into the saddles at the same time that a fusillade of shots cut the air around them and slapped into the jailhouse.
“Them boys ain’t drunk!” Chaw yelled.
“Sonofabitches!” Rawley said. “I’ll bet they’re part o’ the gang. They musta been out here waiting in case I got away from Sims. He was smart enough to have some backups in case something went wrong with his plans.”
“If they’re the raiders, that means Sims was in on that land grab,” Chaw said.
“We ain’t got time to talk about it now,” Rawley said pulling on the reins. “Ride!”
They headed northward, but only got about fifty yards before they attracted more six-gun attention. Swinging to the west while returning fire, Rawley and Chaw urged their horses into a gallop as they made a wild dash through the town. When they gained the open country of the Diablos, they dug their spurs in and rode for their lives. Knowing that an organized pursuit followed them added to their desperation.
By then the moon was out in full, giving an almost daylight exposure to the flat, rolling prairie country of the range. Rawley glanced back, and could see a half dozen riders after them. He knew it was useless to shoot at them. Only an impossibly lucky shot would hit any of the pursuers. Like Chaw, he rode on doggedly, sticking to the saddle in the bouncing, wild gallop across the Diablos.
Their horses strained to meet the demand in the bid for freedom, but the weeks of working the cattle herd had left the animals unfit for a long, continuous gallop. The only hope Rawley and Chaw had was for the mounts to last long enough to get to a place where they could at least stop and defend themselves until help arrived from the cowboys. Trying a standoff where they now rode would be suicide. No cover, no defense, and no luck but bad.
Chaw, his voice distorted by the bouncing ride, shouted, “We can—last maybe—another half—hour and—that’s all!”
Rawley pointed to their right front. “Dips—in the ground—and scrub brush—shadows!”
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