Shot to Hell

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Shot to Hell Page 18

by William W. Johnstone; J. A. Johnstone


  “Buffalo?” Horace responded. “There ain’t no buffalo down this way no more.”

  “That’s what they said,” Drew declared. “They asked me if I wanted to buy a couple of packhorses. The price was right, so I decided, why not? I’ll just use them to carry all the supplies I’ll need while I’m exploring the country around here. And it helped the hunters, too, since they were down on their luck.” He left Horace scratching his head and thinking what a strange man he was.

  Having used up most of the morning out at the ranch, Drew decided he would spend some of his money on a good dinner at the hotel. While he rode up the street on his white horse, leading the packhorses, he was well aware of the attention he was attracting. He always enjoyed seeing people stop on the street to stare at him, and he made it a point never to show that he noticed. As he neared the hotel, his reunion with the gang came to mind. As strong as Ned was, he had certain weaknesses when it came to controlling the men. Being ruthless, himself, Ned inspired that in the men as well. And Drew decided that was the reason men like Curly and Quirt provoked unlikely gunfights just for the satisfaction they enjoyed from killing. The results of that lack of control would always be the same. What he and Ned had planned was to establish the appearance of legitimate ranchers instead of what the town now saw as a gang of outlaw cattle rustlers. Don’t know if I can turn this around or not, he thought. He wasn’t inclined to chastise Ned in front of the men, and maybe not in private either. Ned was his cousin. Otherwise, he would just shoot him in the head and tell the men things were going to change. He would just have to see what he could do. This setup with a small town in the middle of miles of prairie was ideal for what he wanted. He didn’t want to give up on it and move on just because his men caused too much trouble in town. Too bad I got caught with that bank money bag on my horse, he thought. Then he grinned when he thought, If I hadn’t persuaded that deputy marshal that the bag fell off one of the bank robbers’ horses when he was making his getaway, I would have been in prison a lot longer than the two years they gave me.

  “Mr. Drew Dawson,” Rachael Parker greeted him warmly when he walked in the dining room and paused to rid himself of his gun belt. “I thought you had left our little town this morning.”

  “I had left your little town,” Drew replied. “But I found myself thinkin’ more and more about the cookin’ here in this dinin’ room and decided I had to sample some more of it.”

  Rachael smiled, delighted by the compliment. “Well, I’ll certainly tell Bess that you enjoyed her cooking. “Kitty will be serving you today.” She signaled her young waitress. “Kitty,” she said. “This is Mr. Dawson. Take good care of him, we wanna keep him as a customer.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Kitty replied. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Dawson.”

  “Do I look that old?” Drew responded with a grin. “Pretty young ladies like you can call me Drew.” He cocked a roguish eye at Rachael. “And that applies to you as well.” He was satisfied to see the slight blush in Rachael’s face as she smiled back at him. He figured that it had been a while since she had been thrown a compliment of that nature.

  “Are you back in the hotel with us for a while?” Rachael asked.

  “No, ma’am, but I’ll be poppin’ in on you from time to time.” When she looked puzzled, he explained, creating it as he talked. “I maybe didn’t mention it when I was in last night. The reason I’m here is to buy some land not far from Bison Gap to start up a little cattle ranch.”

  “Good,” Rachael said and stepped aside to let Kitty set a cup of coffee down for him. “Will you be bringing a family with you?”

  “No, no family,” Drew answered, “but I never give up hope that a family might be in my future one day.”

  “Well, I wish you luck, Mr. Dawson,” she said and turned to greet a man and his wife at the door.

  “Drew,” he reminded her, “and thank you.”

  “Drew,” she responded with a cheerful laugh. “Enjoy your dinner.”

  That I will, he thought, turning his mind back onto his reason for coming to town. He had made a big score when he opened the safe in T.C.’s office. Evidently, the man had that much cash in the safe for purchasing cattle. It was considerably easier to make money by stealing it than it was to have to rustle a herd and drive them to market for men like T.C. to buy them. But he couldn’t always find safes to rob, and unless he got the gang back into the rustling business again, his money would soon run out.

  * * *

  While Drew Dawson was dining at the hotel, John Payne was busy repairing the damaged wall in the jail cell room and replacing the window. Interested spectators, Eli Priest and Slim Garrett, watched from the cell next to the one under repair while finishing up the dinner plates sent down from the hotel dining room. “If you ain’t gonna eat that biscuit, I’ll take it,” Slim said.

  “Go ahead and eat it,” Eli said, rubbing his stomach and grimacing. “I swear, my belly still hurts from hangin’ in that window. Junior damn-near pulled me in two. There’s red marks all around my middle.”

  “You was bigger than that window,” Slim said.

  “You think?” Eli asked sarcastically.

  “I knowed you were too big to fit through that window,” Slim insisted. “Perley Gates told me, while you was still hangin’ in it, that I shoulda gone first. He said I woulda made it.”

  “Is that so? I reckon you’re bellyachin’ because you didn’t get away. But I can’t help it if you didn’t step up and try it first.”

  “I’m just sayin’ you shoulda told me to go first, so at least one of us woulda got out,” Slim said.

  “It wouldn’ta been right for just one of us to get out, if the other’n couldn’t,” Eli declared. “If you had any decency about you, you’d know that. Gimme back my biscuit.”

  He reached for the half-eaten biscuit, but Slim stuffed all of it in his mouth. When he was able to talk again, he said, “I’ll give it back to ya in the mornin’.”

  “You two sound like a couple of little young’uns fightin’ in here,” Sheriff Mason said when he walked into the cell room. “Gimme your plates. I’ll take ’em back to the dinin’ room.” He had been waiting for them to finish, so he could take all three plates back. They handed the plates through the bars and he walked over to the other cell and called to John Payne, who was outside. “Hey, John, you need to get in here for anything? I’m goin’ across the creek for about half an hour.” Payne yelled back that he wouldn’t need to get inside for a while yet, so Mason said, “I’m gonna lock it up, then.”

  “You can leave the key with us, Sheriff, in case he has to get in before you get back,” Eli remarked.

  “What do you need a key for, Eli?” Mason replied. “I thought windows was your specialty.”

  “You go to hell,” Eli spat.

  “You’d best watch what you say,” Mason responded. “You’re talkin’ like a man that don’t want supper.” As a precaution, he took the key to the cells with him, then closed the cell room door and locked the office when he went out. Outside, he checked with Payne to tell him he would take a little look around town after returning the dishes to the dining room before he came back.

  As a manner of habit, Sheriff Mason glanced at the weapons table as he walked into the dining room. The fancy gun belt with a Colt revolver in the holster caught his attention enough so that he paused to look around the room looking for a fit. The only likely candidate was a lone diner seated at a side table, who was attired in an outfit that seemed to go with the gun belt.

  “Sheriff Mason,” he heard Rachael call his name. “You didn’t have to bring those back. I would have sent for them.”

  “No trouble,” Mason replied and walked into the kitchen with her. “It was mighty good, just like always,” he said to Bess, who took the dishes from him. “I even caught my prisoners fightin’ over a biscuit,” he joked. Rachael and Bess both laughed. It was another sign, as far as Rachael was concerned. She and Bess had discussed the topic of Sheriff John Mas
on and concluded that there was a definite difference in his demeanor since Perley had come back to Bison Gap. “Who’s the slick-lookin’ jasper sittin’ over at the side table?”

  The two women looked at each other and shook their heads. It was the same description Possum had used the night before. “That neatly dressed gentleman is Mr. Drew Dawson,” Rachael informed him.

  “Is he stayin’ in the hotel?”

  “He did last night, but not tonight,” Rachael said. “He just likes to come in to get Bess’ fine cooking.”

  “He wears a slick-lookin’ gun belt, too,” Mason said and smiled. “Think I’ll go over and welcome him to Bison Gap. He walked across the room to Drew’s table. “Afternoon,” he said. “The ladies treatin’ you all right?”

  Wary when the sheriff walked in and paused by his gun belt, Drew had no option other than to remain in character. “Good afternoon, Sheriff,” he replied. “Yes, sir, they’re treatin’ me like a king. Have a seat and join me.”

  “Thanks just the same,” Mason said, “but I’ve already had mine.”

  “Well, sit down and have a cup of coffee,” Drew invited. “It’s mighty good coffee.”

  “Maybe just a cup,” Mason said, and Drew signaled for Kitty as the sheriff drew a chair back. Watching from the kitchen door, Bess and Rachael exchanged wide-eyed glances. They had never witnessed that by Mason before. They were further amazed when they heard him say, “I’m Sheriff John Mason.”

  “Drew Dawson,” he returned. “It’s a pleasure.”

  “Those your horses out front?” Mason asked, and when Drew said that indeed they were, Mason commented on the white horse. “That’s an outstandin’ gelding, don’t believe I’ve ever seen one whiter than that one. Before I took this job, I was a ranch foreman for a cattle ranch south of here, so I’ve seen a lot of horses.”

  “I get a lot of comments on that horse,” Drew said, “the saddle, too. That horse cost a lot of money. So did the saddle, but I thought at the time I had to buy a saddle that looked just as rich as the horse.” He chuckled and said, “Wish I had that money back, I’d put it on some of this land I’m lookin’ at now.”

  “You lookin’ to find some land close to town?”

  “Absolutely,” Drew said. “I like the look of this town and as soon as I finish eating, I’m going to go to that store down the street and load those packhorses with enough supplies to last me till I’m done lookin’.”

  Mason took another couple of gulps of coffee and got up. “Well, I won’t hold you up. Thanks for the coffee, and I hope you find the land you’re lookin’ for.”

  “It was my pleasure, Sheriff,” Drew replied, as Mason headed for the door. Like a piano, he said to himself, pleased with his introduction to the sheriff of the town. It was not a hopeless case, he decided, in spite of Ned’s bungling of it. For now, and maybe for some time to come, he could not let anyone know there was a connection between him and Ned Stark.

  Finished with his meal, he left the money for it on the table and sauntered over to the weapons table to retrieve his gun belt. Rachael came out of the kitchen then. Seeing him about to leave, she came over to thank him. “I left the money on the table, if that’s what you’re after,” he joked. “I knew better than to try to get outta here without payin’.”

  Rachael laughed. “We weren’t worried. One of us would have tackled you before you got out the door. Was everything satisfactory?”

  “I’ll remember that about the tacklin’,” he joked. “Maybe I’ll try it next time. And the meal, I wouldn’t say it was satisfactory.” He waited for her to raise her eyebrows in surprise, then said, “I would say it was excellent.”

  “Thank you, sir,” she said with a sweet smile. “Don’t be a stranger.”

  “I can promise you that,” he said and took his leave.

  “What was all that?” Bess asked Rachael when she returned to the kitchen door.

  “What was all what?” Rachael replied.

  “All that little chitty-chat at the gun table,” Bess said. “I declare, I thought I saw you make a little curtsy there. You ain’t gettin’ no ideas about that slick talker, are you? And you with two young daughters.”

  “Bess Curry! Bite your tongue! I just think it’s a nice change to see pleasant, polite customers come into the dining room.” She pretended to be offended. “Chitty-chat, I don’t even know what that means.”

  Outside, Drew Dawson climbed aboard the big white horse and led his packhorses a short distance down the street to Wheeler’s General Merchandise, curious to see the mayor of Bison Gap in his natural habitat, behind the counter of a general store. Ralph was in the store and so was his wife, Cora, so Drew cranked up his charm once again. By the time he was finished, he felt he had impressed them both to his satisfaction. As he started down the street toward the creek, he found himself thinking how disappointed he was to find that Ned had not controlled his men to maintain better relations with the town. Drew believed one could milk a town while still on friendly terms. Near the middle of town, he admired the new bank building. First Bank of Texas, he read to himself as he slow-walked his horses by. “That’s where they keep the goin’-away present, Snowball,” he murmured to the gelding. “If we ever find we need to leave Bison Gap in a hurry, we can always stop there for a little spendin’ money.” Yep, he thought, this town has a lot to offer. I only wish I had gotten here sooner, before Ned established himself with the sheriff. It could have been handled much better. There was still time to salvage most of it, he decided. But for the time being, he reminded himself that he was the only member of the gang who could go back and forth to town.

  CHAPTER 15

  “Here comes Drew,” Junior announced, “and he’s got them packhorses loaded down.” That was enough to cause some measure of excitement among the still-defeated band of cattle rustlers. Everyone went outside to help unload the supplies, even those who could use only one arm. “I sure hope you got some coffee and flour,” Junior said to him when he pulled his horse up before the porch.

  “There you go, boys, everything you’ve been missin’. I even went in the saloon and bought a couple of bottles of rye whiskey. Maybe that’ll help lift your spirits a little. Ain’t that right, cousin?” He grinned at Stark. “I got a good picture of your little town today, even had the opportunity to have a cup of coffee with your sheriff. You know, the one you used to own. Right friendly fellow he was, too. He looked like he owns that town now. Came in the hotel dinin’ room and chatted up the ladies, and they were all sweet and friendly to him. Something musta happened to that man, ’cause he ain’t the coward you told me about.”

  “That faker,” was Stark’s only comment.

  “I’ll tell you somethin’ else I found out when I went to the Buffalo Hump to get the whiskey. Jimmy told me they’re fixin’ to have another one of their town council meetin’s tonight after supper, right there in the saloon. He said just about all the men in town would be there, includin’ the sheriff. Jimmy thought that was newsworthy, the sheriff comin’ to the meetin’. He said before Perley Gates came to town—back when you were payin’ him off—the sheriff never attended a single meetin’. Now, he’s invited to every one of ’em.” He looked around at the five faces and was aware that he had everyone’s attention. Talking to all five of them then, he asked, “You know why that’s kinda interestin’?” He waited for someone to say the obvious answer. When no one did, he shook his head, surprised. “That’s interestin’ because it means nobody will be watchin’ the jail.”

  “What about Perley Gates?” Jack Sledge asked. “Most likely he’ll be guardin’ the jail.”

  “You know, Sledge,” Drew answered. “I asked the same thing. I thought the sheriff would surely not leave his prisoners unguarded. But Jimmy said Perley has been comin’ to the meetin’s right regular since they started havin’ ’em. And Jimmy ain’t never lied to me,” he joked.

  “You’re thinkin’ we oughta take another shot at breakin’ Eli and Slim outta there to
night?” Stark asked.

  “They’re havin’ that meetin’ in the Buffalo Hump,” Stark said. “That ain’t but about thirty-five or forty yards from the jail. If we go in there and try to hit that jail again, they’re bound to hear the racket we’d make. And there’ll be every one of the vigilance committee right there, plus Perley Gates.” His remarks brought grunts and words of agreement from the other four men, none of them anxious to try the same thing that crippled them the first time.

  “That’s probably true,” Drew said. “But if you wanna try to maybe slip ’em a gun, or two while you’re at it, you won’t get a much better chance than tonight. Then maybe Eli and Slim can get themselves out of jail.” He saw Stark’s eyes light up at that.

  “That might be the best chance we’ve got to get them outta that jail,” Stark declared. “One man oughta be able to slip up behind that jail without nobody seein’ him. Some of the rest of us could hang back on that creek bank just in case somebody sees him.”

  “I’ll do it, Ned,” Junior volunteered.

  Stark smiled at Drew and nodded his head. “That just might work, cousin,” he said.

  “Let’s cook us up a big supper tonight,” Drew said. “Maybe Junior can make some pan biscuits with some of that flour I brought back from town.”

  * * *

  “Did you get the jail fixed up all right?” Ralph Wheeler asked Sheriff Mason when he walked into the Buffalo Hump after supper. The mayor had requested a meeting of the council that night to decide what direction the town should take with the Ned Stark gang.

  “Yep,” Mason answered. “John Payne got the bars back in the window, so I moved Eli back in that cell. Looks stronger than it did before. Hope we don’t get it tested again.”

  “Maybe you oughta just keep Eli Priest in the jail, so he can plug it up again, if somebody else tries to pull it out,” Rooster remarked, bringing a few chuckles from the few who were there already.

 

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