As Jim walked up to the wounded Jeffers, a small caliber pistol barked and the Ranger arched in agony, grabbing his back as a bullet tore into it and sliced along his ribs. He whirled, aiming his Colt at Leah Collins just as she readied to send another slug into his back.
“I’d drop that gun if I were you, lady,” he warned.
“You wouldn’t shoot a woman,” Leah replied, holding her gun aimed shakily at his chest.
“After you just plugged me in the back?” Jim answered. “I wouldn’t bet a hat on it. Now drop that gun!”
Leah started to squeeze the trigger of her pistol, then, with a sigh of frustration, lowered her weapon. Jim lunged and ripped the gun from her grasp. “Get over there on the couch next to Jeffers where I can keep an eye on the both of you,” he ordered. He leveled his Colt at the kitchen doorway as two Rafter Q hands appeared there, hands in the air.
“Don’t shoot, Ranger,” one of the men pleaded. “I’m Jeff Pardee, and my pard here’s Hoyt Brandon. We didn’t want any part of this. Neither did the rest of the boys that are still out there. They sent us to tell you we’re surrenderin’. You can see we’re unarmed.” Neither man had a gunbelt buckled around his hips. “Looks like you can use a little help here,” Pardee added.
“Reckon I can at that,” Jim conceded, his gun still pointed at the men, “Brandon, keep an eye on these two while I check on my pardner. “Pardee, come with me. Just remember, either of you try double-crossin’ me and I’ll put a slug in your guts.”
“We won’t,” Brandon promised. “Is it true what you said out there? The boss really did kill Mrs. Jeffers?”
“Not himself, but he had it done,” Jim explained. “I don’t have time to get into that now. Be right back.”
Wincing against the pain shooting through his back, blood running down his side and over his hip, Jim stumbled down the porch steps and across the yard to where Rick Lewis lay on his back, a crimson stain slowly spreading across his light tan shirt. To the Ranger’s relief, Lewis’ eyes flickered open. The deputy weakly gasped, “We get ‘em…all, Jim? Who warned ‘em we were comin’?”
“The ones that count,” Blawcyzk wearily replied, as he knelt alongside the deputy, took his bandanna from his neck, folded it, and stuffed it inside Lewis’ shirt to hopefully staunch the flow of blood. “Rest of ‘em are out of the fight. And Leah Collins beat us out here to let Jeffers know we were comin’. That’s enough questions. You just take it easy. Hold that bandanna in place if you can. I’ll get you patched up and to the doc’s muy pronto.”
“Sure. I’ll do just that,” Lewis whispered as his eyes closed and his chin dropped to his chest.
“Anybody around here know doctorin’?” Jim demanded of Pardee.
“Yeah. The cook,” the cowboy replied.
“Then get her fast. And get a couple of buckboards ready quick as you can. Mrs. Collins’ buggy is around here somewhere. We can use that too.”
“Sure, Ranger,” Pardee agreed. “Say, you mean that about us bein’ free to go?”
“Once I get everythin’ cleared up, yeah,” Jim promised. “Now get movin’.”
As Jim stepped back into the parlor, he found Brandon had taken some curtain cords from the parlor drapes and used them to tie Jeffers and Leah Collins hand and foot. “Figured if you saw I’d hogtied these two you’d know I wasn’t gonna try and pull anythin’ on you, Ranger,” he grinned.
“I appreciate that,” Jim replied. “Brandon, there’s several wounded men out there, as well as the dead ones. Pardee needs some help gettin’ the injured into wagons so they can get to the doctor. Get the rest of the men and give him a hand. The dead we’ll just have to put in the barn for now, and cover ‘em best we can. Let me know as soon as you’re ready.”
“What about these two?” Brandon nodded toward Jeffers and Collins. “And it appears you could use a mite of patchin’ up yourself, Ranger.”
“I’ll be just fine,” Jim assured him, “And Jeffers can wait until the others are cared for.”
“Gotta agree with you, seein’ what he did to poor Mrs. Jeffers. She was a fine woman. Mace, you should be strung up!” Brandon snapped.
“Don’t get any ideas about a lynchin’,” Jim warned. “Remember what happened the last time that was tried. Now hurry up so we can get movin’.”
“We’ll be ready to roll right quick,” Brandon promised. “Won’t take long at all.”
As Brandon pushed open the door, Mace Jeffers complained, “Lieutenant, I’m bleedin’ to death here.”
“I can’t have much sympathy for you, Jeffers,” Jim answered. “But I’ll make sure you live to stand trial.” He pulled a heavy drape from a window, ripped it in two, and tied it across the rancher’s hip. “There, that’ll hold you until we get to town.” he stated.
“What about me?” Leah whimpered.
“You’re not hurt,” Jim snapped. “So keep still unless you want me to gag you.”
“That’s no way to talk to a lady,” Jeffers said. “Leah, once this is all cleared up, I promise we’ll be together. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”
“Of course, Mace darling,” Leah purred assuringly. “That’s what I’ve always wanted.”
“I wouldn’t count on that, Jeffers,” Jim broke in. “Seein’ as she fed John Crowe the same line of bull.” Jeffers stiffened visibly, eyes wide with surprise at this revelation. As the banker’s widow burst out with a string of most unladylike oaths, Jim concluded, “She was playin’ the both of you for fools.”
CHAPTER 14
“Boy howdy, I’m sure glad to see you two lazy hombres are finally awake,” Jim grinned as he walked into Steve Masters’ and Rick Lewis’ room at Doctor Sweeney’s clinic. The young Ranger and the deputy had finally regained full consciousness, several days after the gun battle at the Rafter Q and the arrests of Mason Jeffers and Leah Collins. Sanderson’s jail had been turned into a makeshift hospital, where Mason Jeffers and Greg Saez had been treated and were recovering from their wounds. Doctor Frank Sweeney was also ensconced in the jail, brought out under armed guard and escorted to his clinic to treat patients when needed. With the physician under arrest, routine illnesses or injuries were handled by Ann, his capable wife.
“Who you callin’ lazy, Lieutenant?” Steve grinned.
“You two slug-a-beds,” Jim retorted. “Lyin’ around all day and leavin’ me to do all the law work around here.”
“We ain’t exactly just lyin’ around,” Lewis protested. “Seems to me both of us had considerable amounts of lead pulled outta our hides.”
“You call one slug considerable?” Jim joshed. “Heck, one slug don’t even tickle.” He then soberly asked, “Seriously, how’re you both feelin’?”
“Pretty good,” Steve answered, while Lewis added, “Well as can be expected, I guess. Now, you ready to tell us what all this was about?”
“You got the time for it?” Jim responded.
“We’re not goin’ anywhere,” Steve pointed out.
“I guess not,” Jim agreed. “Rick already knows most of the story, but I reckon he can stand hearin’ it again while I fill in the details. First, Mike Thompson was killed ‘cause he had no idea what he was ridin’ into. Neither did you Steve, and that nearly got you hung.”
“Yeah.” Steve rubbed the faint scar still visible around his neck. “I can still feel that rope. Rick’s told me a little bit about how the sheriff was behind all this. He sure had me fooled.”
As Jim began to answer, Ann Sweeney stepped into the room. “Lieutenant, there you are,” she said. “I’ve been waiting for you. Those stitches have to come out.”
“I figured I’d just let the doc take ‘em out when I headed down to the jail,” Jim answered.
“Nonsense,” Ann retorted. “I’ve removed hundreds of stitches.”
“But the Lieutenant was just about to fill us in,�
�� Steve protested. “Can’t those stitches wait?”
“Yeah. They can,” Jim said.
“No, they can’t,” Ann disagreed, “But there’s no reason I can’t remove them right here. That way you can tell your story while I work on you. So you just take off your hat and shirt and sit on that corner stool,” she ordered.
“Guess I’ve got no choice.” Jim gave in, pulling off his Stetson and placing it on a table.
“Your shirt, Lieutenant,” Ann insisted.
“You’re gonna make me take it off, aren’t you?” Jim blushed. Even after all his years as a Ranger, he was still shy around women.
“Gee, I’m never slow about takin’ off my shirt when a pretty woman asks me to get undressed, Lieutenant,” Steve laughed.
“Neither were John Crowe and Mace Jeffers…and look where it got them,” Jim shot back.
“Reckon you’ve got a point,” Steve conceded.
“The shirt,” Ann repeated.
“All right.” Jim gave in, shrugging out of his shirt and tossing it alongside his hat.
“That’s better,” Ann said, as he settled onto the stool. “Now you can talk as much as you’d like, but hold still while I’m pulling out those stitches, so I don’t accidentally cut you with my scissors.”
“I’ll be a rock,” Jim grinned.
As the physician’s wife worked on him, Jim went over the events of the past weeks for Steve’s benefit, filling in the gaps for Rick Lewis.
“So all of this was because of greed,” Steve noted as Jim concluded.
“That’s right,” Jim agreed. “Shame about what it can do to some people.”
“I still don’t believe Leah Collins wanted her husband killed. John was a real decent sort, especially for a banker,” Lewis sadly observed. “And you think she was there when he was killed?”
“I’m certain of it,” Jim explained. “See, she and Sheriff Crowe told two different versions of Collins’ killin’. Leah said she found her husband already dead, and didn’t see or hear a thing, but the sheriff said she walked in on Gordy Webber while he was still in the bank. If she had, she couldn’t have helped but seen or heard him. And her husband would probably still have been breathin’, if he was stuck in the ribs and she came in while Webber was still in the bank. But the real reason I’m certain she was there is I found small piece of dress fabric that’d caught on a shelf corner in the vault and hadn’t been noticed. There was blood on it. Only person that could’ve come from was John Collins.”
“But why didn’t Crowe just say she’d been there?” Steve puzzled. “He was dyin’ anyway, so tellin’ the truth shouldn’t have made any difference to him.”
“He was still protectin’ her,” Jim explained. “Don’t forget, he was in love with her. He had no idea she was also havin’ an affair with Mace Jeffers. Leah Collins was smarter’n both of ‘em. She realized that neither man was gonna be satisfied with half-ownership of the mine. So she was gonna make sure no matter which one was left alive she’d be his wife.”
“She was smarter’n you too, Lieutenant,” Steve chuckled, “You never thought to watch out for her at the Rafter Q, and you let her get behind you with a gun. You’re just lucky she didn’t get you plumb in the middle of your back.”
“He’s even luckier she missed his kidney by just a couple of inches,” Ann Sweeney noted, as she removed another stitch from Jim’s side. “Only a few more to go, Lieutenant.”
“You’re both right,” Jim ruefully conceded, “And how about you, Ann? How are you holding up?”
“I’ll make out,” Ann replied. “I have enough knowledge of medicine I can keep this practice going until another physician is found to relocate here in Sanderson. After that…”. She shrugged.
“There’ll be enough sick folks and babies bein’ born to keep both you and a doc in business,” Lewis assured her.
“Not only that, but once the disposition of the Seven Winds property is settled, you might very well find yourself part owner, Ann,” Jim stated. “I’m sure things’ll be tied up in court for quite some time, since your husband, Jeffers, and Leah still own the company, but they’ll lose it once they’re convicted. And if Pablo Cruz left any heirs they’ll have a claim. But you should still receive somethin’. Plus I spoke to the hombres from the Texas Pacific yesterday, and they assured me the railroad still intends to complete that spur to Sanderson. They figure the mine’ll be developed eventually, and they think this county’s gonna grow in any event.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant, and you Rick,” Ann gratefully answered. “You’ve both taken a load off my mind.”
“But how’d you get onto the sheriff?” Steve insisted as Jim sighed, looking up at the ceiling.
“Couple of things,” Jim answered. “First, the attorney’s hangin’ that obviously wasn’t. Plus it was too convenient havin’ Rick outta town when you were nearly lynched. Crowe made sure it’d look like he tried to stop your hangin’, but he was in on it all along. And by the way Steve, if you’d recalled the handwriting in the note you got wasn’t the same as the letter Cap’n Trumbull has, I might’ve cleared things up even sooner. Anyway, there were a lot of little inconsistencies that added up to make me suspicious of the sheriff.”
“I can’t figure why Crowe didn’t just leave Sloane’s death as a suicide,” Steve observed. “There was no reason to tell anyone it was a murder.”
“Sometimes criminals make things more complicated than they need to,” Jim noted. “They forget the simpler the story, the better. And you’re right. If Crowe’d just let things be, it would’ve made the trail a lot harder to follow. I reckon he figured you or Mike would’ve realized Sloane had been murdered, and that would’ve shown the sheriff up for the liar he was. So he told part of the truth, that Sloane’s body was found in his office. He never figured I’d check that rafter.”
“How’d you figure out he and Jeffers were both havin’ an affair with Leah?” Rick asked.
“Files I found in Sloane’s office. Rebecca Jeffers had asked Sloane how to go about obtaining a divorce. She suspected her husband and Leah had been meeting. And Jeffers wanted to change his will.”
“But how about the sheriff?” Steve insisted.
“I wasn’t sure about him until the end,” Jim explained, “I had a hunch he and Leah were seein’ each other, but nothin’ I could prove. When he still tried to keep her outta things while he was dyin’, I knew for certain.”
“Speakin’ of hunches,” Rick said, “How’d you know most of Jeffers’ hands wouldn’t side him when we went to bring him in?”
“Because like I told you out at the Rafter Q, most of’em were cowpunchers, not gunfighters. And at least some of ‘em would’ve been thinkin’ about when I’d accused Jeffers of killin’ his own wife. That’s why I made sure I called out that charge loud and clear.”
“But what if you’d been wrong?” Rick demanded.
“Then you’n I would’ve been filled so fulla lead we could’ve sunk a river-boat,” Jim chuckled. “Listen, we’ve all been lawmen long enough to know a lot of the time it’s just a gut feelin’ that leads you to the hombre you’re after.”
“There. I’m finished Lieutenant,” Ann stated as she pulled the last stitch from Jim’s side. “And these two men need their rest. Once I get you bandaged, I’ll have to ask you to leave.”
“But there’s a lot I still don’t know,” Steve protested.
“There’ll be plenty of time to fill you in on the rest,” Jim promised. “I’m pretty sure Austin’s gonna order me to stay here in Sanderson until Rick is well enough to perform his duties again. And I’ll have to be here until the circuit judge arrives for the trials. By the time I’m ready to leave, you’ll be strong enough to ride with me.”
“You think they’ll all hang?” Steve asked.
“Jeffers for certain. I’d guess Doc Sweeney will get life in H
untsville.”
“How about Leah?” Rick asked.
“Hard to tell,” Jim shrugged. “Not too many juries would hang a woman. But she’ll be in prison a long time, and her life is ruined in any event.”
“That’s enough,” Ann ordered, “Get dressed and shoo!”
“Yes, ma’am,” Jim laughed.
After leaving the clinic, Jim ambled down the street to Murphy’s livery, where Sam and Yancey, Steve’s blaze-faced chestnut gelding, were stretched out on their sides in a corral, dozing in the sun.
“Hey pard,” he called to his paint, “I’ll bet you’re lookin’ forward to a cou-pla’ weeks of doin’ nothin’ but hangin’ around, gettin’ fat and lazy.” Sam merely lifted his head, nickered softly, then plopped it back down, rubbing the side of his face in the dust to scratch an itchy spot. “All right, I get the hint,” Jim laughed. “I’ll see you later.”
Jim slowly walked from the stable to the sheriff’s office, exchanging pleasantries and touching the brim of his Stetson in greeting to passersby. Reaching the office, he took a chair from inside onto the boardwalk, and, tipping it back, propped his bootheels on the hitchrail to lean back against the wall. “I’m tired of havin’ to buy new hats,” he grumbled, as he recreased his still-stiff new Stet-son and settled it uncomfortably on his head. “Seems like every time I finally get a hat or shirt broke in to where it’s comfortable, some hombre shoots it fulla holes.” He tilted the Stetson over his eyes and settled more deeply into the chair. “Certainly gonna be good to have nothin’ to do but watch a nice, quiet town for two or three weeks,” he thought. “Sure, I wish I was headin’ home to Julia and Charlie, but I reckon this is the next best thing.” Stretched out in the warm sunshine, Jim soon dozed off.
The weary Ranger was jolted awake by the sound of gunfire, yelps of pain, and cries of “Gotcha’, Rangers!”. Jim leapt to his feet, his hand dropping to the Colt on his left hip as two young Texas Rangers, doubled over with hands pressed to their bellies, staggered out of the alley alongside the office and thudded to the dirt, while the men who’d gunned them down pumped more slugs into their lifeless bodies.
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