Will led Ed up to the base of one of the higher hills where nature had formed a corral made of boulders. The opening that served as an entrance to it had three timbers across it that functioned as a gate. Inside were three horses. The two deputies looked the place over from the cover of a thick stand of pine trees. Will pointed to a solid-rock opening up near the top of the slope. “That’s the front entrance. The cave is about forty feet long and has a back door. That stream you see runs right through the cave. It’s hard to beat for a hideout. One of us can stand near the front and yell for ’em to come out and surrender, while the other one can cover the back door and arrest ’em when they run out the back. You’re the lead deputy on this job. Which do you wanna do?”
“What if they don’t come out?” Ed asked.
“Then I reckon we’ll go in after ’em,” Will answered. “Either that or we could steal their horses and make ’em come after them. So, what you want, front or back?”
Ed thought for a few seconds. “I’ll stay in front and call ’em out. I don’t know exactly where that back door is, so you might be better at that. Is that all right with you?”
“Fine by me,” Will said. “You just give me about fifteen minutes to get in position behind that cave.” He turned Buster to leave, then paused to warn Ed. “Be sure you’ve got some cover before you go hollerin’ up at that cave. Be careful you don’t get shot.”
“You don’t have to warn me about that,” Ed assured him.
Will circled around the hill to come up from behind the stone tunnel. He left Buster in a clump of small trees and climbed up through the rocks until he came to the opening to the small passage that led back into the cave. If I had forgotten where it was, I coulda found it anyway, he thought when he approached it and saw smoke drifting up out of the opening in the rocks.
He hadn’t been in position longer than a couple of minutes when he heard Ed yell out his warning. “You, in the cave! This is U.S. Deputy Marshal Ed Pine. Come out of there with your hands up!”
There was no response from the cave, so Ed repeated his orders. Inside, Zeke Bowers whispered, “What the hell . . . ?” He gaped, wide-eyed, at his brother, Ike.
“How’d he find this place?” Ike whispered back. “The law ain’t supposed to know about this place.”
“That bowlegged little rat got the law up here,” Zeke said. “What are we gonna do?”
“We need to see if he’s by hisself,” Ike said. He dropped the piece of venison he had been chewing on and crawled up near the front of the cave to try to see if he could spot Ed. Zeke crawled up behind him.
“Can you see him?”
“Nah, I can’t see him,” Ike replied. “I can’t see the bottom of the cliff unless I crawl out in the open, and I ain’t gonna do that.”
“Can you see anythin’?” Zeke insisted.
“I told you, I can’t see him, but I can see that there ain’t no posse settin’ down there waitin’ for us to come outta here. He might be all by his lonesome.”
“There’s no use in stallin’,” Ed called out again. “You’re surrounded. I’m givin’ you a chance to come on outta there and make it easy on yourself.”
“You got no business botherin’ us,” Ike shouted back. “We ain’t the ones that robbed that store in McAlester.”
“Damn, Ike,” Zeke whispered. “You shouldn’tasaid that. He might notta even knowed about it.”
“Come on out with your hands up and we’ll talk about it,” Ed yelled.
“He’s by hisself,” Ike said to Zeke. Then he turned his head toward the opening again and yelled, “We ain’t comin’ out! Looks like you’re gonna have to come in and get us!” Back to his brother again, he said, “Let him come on in. We’ll fill him so full of holes you can use him for a strainer.”
“Hot damn!” Zeke exclaimed. “We ain’t never shot a lawman before. Tell him to come on up here and get us.”
“That ain’t a good idea today or any other day,” Will said, standing twenty-five feet behind them. Both brothers froze for a moment before they were sure, then they spun around, reaching for their guns. Ike was the quickest, so he caught Will’s first shot in the shoulder, the result of which knocked him back flat on the stone floor of the cave. His pistol bounced off the solid rock as it dropped from his hand. With a new round already cranked in the chamber of Will’s Winchester 73, Zeke found himself looking at sudden death. He wisely dropped his weapon.
“You all right in there, Will?” Ed Pine shouted from in front of the cave, already running toward the entrance after he heard the shots.
“Everything’s all right, Ed,” Will answered him. “You can come on in.” He pointed his rifle at Zeke and motioned with it toward Ike, who was sitting on the floor of the cave holding his arm, a .44 slug in his right shoulder. “You can give your partner a hand with that wound,” Will said to Zeke.
“He needs a doctor,” Zeke said after a quick look at his brother’s wound. “He’s bleedin’ awful bad.”
“Take his bandanna off and stuff it over that wound,” Will said. Ed walked in at that moment. “These are the two outlaws that held up that store in McAlester,” he said to Ed, hoping Ed would realize he was bluffing. They had received no notice of a store robbery in McAlester before they left Fort Smith.
“Right,” Ed came back right away, picking up on Will’s bluff. “We figured they’d be here.” He holstered his .44 and picked up the two dropped pistols. “Good thing we brought the jail wagon. These two are gonna have plenty of company, but Horace is gonna have to pick up some more supplies in Atoka,” he said, thinking about the three men they had actually come for.
“I expect so,” Will said, then directed a question to Zeke. “How much of that money have you got left?”
“Ain’t got none of it left,” Zeke replied.
Still bluffing, Will said, “What? That fellow said you two took over two hundred dollars outta his store.”
Both Ike and Zeke reacted immediately. “He’s a lyin’ horn toad!” Ike exclaimed. “There warn’t but thirty-seven dollars in that drawer and we spent all of it that night.”
Ed looked at Will and shook his head. Both men were thinking of the cost of transporting the two petty criminals back to jail in Fort Smith. It would amount to more than the two of them had stolen. The temptation to just run them out of the hideout and tell them to get out of the Nations was great. But they had foolishly confessed to the robbery of a store, so they had to arrest them and give them a day in court. “All right,” Will finally ordered, “pick up your belongings and we’ll walk on outta here, nice and peaceful. If you’ve got any sense at all, you won’t risk your life tryin’ to make a run for it.”
They marched them down to their horses and waited while Zeke helped Ike up on his horse. Then with each deputy holding the reins of one of the two brothers’ horses, they led them back to Merle’s cabin, where they were transferred to the jail wagon. Horace Watson’s reaction upon seeing the two petty thieves was the same as Ed and Will’s. “It’s gonna be nice and cozy on the way back to Fort Smith,” he observed. “I’m gonna have to have some more food if we’re gonna eat on the way back.”
Standing by while the transfer to the jail wagon was taking place, Merle could finally hold his comments no longer. “You’re lucky these two lawmen came to getcha ’cause I was fixin’ to shoot your sorry asses next time you came stealin’ around my place.”
“You ain’t got nothin’ worth stealin’,” Zeke responded.
Ike, confident now that he wasn’t going to bleed to death, saw fit to join in. “I don’t know, Zeke, that deer was pretty good eatin’. We was waitin’ for you to go huntin’ again.”
“Get them two skunks offa my property,” Merle demanded.
“That we will,” Ed said, and closed the lock on the jail wagon. Will climbed up into the saddle, led them out of the maze of hills that hid Merle’s cabin, and picked up the trail to Atoka again. The extra horses were on a rope tied to the back of the jail wagon
. Their owners were already complaining afterfinding they were going to Atoka before making the trip back to Fort Smith.
As they had anticipated, it took them two and a half days to reach Atoka. At the end of each day, they found a stream to camp by. Horace took care of the cooking, and the prisoners were released from the wagon and shackled to a long chain for the night, with one end locked around the axle of the wagon. It was the typical fashion in which prisoners were handled, but not the way Will Tanner preferred. He had always felt hampered by a slow-moving wagon and had a running argument with Dan Stone about using one. On this occasion, however, he didn’t complain, especially since it was possible they would end up transporting five prisoners back to Fort Smith.
They rolled into Atoka in the early evening and Horace picked a spot near the creek to park the jail wagon and set up his camp. While Ed stayed with him to guard the prisoners, Will rode up Muddy Boggy Creek to Jim Little Eagle’s cabin outside of town. The Choctaw policeman walked out of his barn as Will rode into the yard. “Will Tanner!” Jim greeted him. “I thought maybe they send you.” He was always glad to see Will. They had worked together many times in the past. “Mary!” Jim called toward the cabin.
In a minute, Mary Light Walker stepped out on the small front porch. “Will Tanner!” She repeated her husband’s greeting and stepped off the porch to join them.
“Mary, Jim,” Will greeted them in order and stepped down from the saddle. “Stone sent me and Ed Pine, too.” When both Jim and Mary looked past him toward the road, Will explained. “Ed’s back in town with Horace Watson and a jail wagon. He’s set up camp on the other side of the railroad tracks.” He went on to explain the acquisition of two prisoners he had not planned on and the need to do something with them while they investigated the problem Jim had wired Fort Smith about. “Anybody in that jail of yours?”
“No,” Jim answered. “The jail’s empty, has been for a couple of weeks.”
“Good,” Will said. “Maybe we can put these two jaspers in there for safekeepin’ till we come to some kinda answer to your problems here in Atoka.”
“You no stay for supper?” Mary asked.
“I reckon not this time,” Will replied, “and I surely am disappointed, too. But I’ve got Ed and Horace and two fellows in the jail wagon back in town. So, I reckon I’ll just have to miss out on enjoyin’ one of your fine suppers.” He shook his head and smacked his lips. “You know when I’m workin’ up this way, I always try to hit town here in time to get invited to eat at your table.”
She laughed, delighted. “You know you always welcome, Will Tanner.”
“I’ll saddle my horse,” Jim said, “and go back to town with you. Maybe those three drifters will give you a show tonight like they do on some nights.” He looked at Mary and said, “You might have to keep my supper warm in the oven till I get back.”
“We’ll try not to keep you from your supper,” Will said. “Just open up that jail for us, then Ed and I can watch the town tonight. If they don’t show up in town tonight, maybe we can find out where they’re holed up tomorrow.”
“No problem there,” Jim said at once. “I know where they stay, where every no-good outlaw troublemaker stays. They stay at Mama’s Kitchen in Boggy Town.”
“Say what?” Will responded, not sure he had heard correctly.
“Mama’s Kitchen,” Jim repeated. “Big fellow named Tiny McGee built it about three miles east of town on Muddy Boggy Creek. He named it that, so the law might think it’s a place to eat, but it’s nothing but a saloon.”
“Well, I’ll be . . .” Will started. “It wasn’t here the last time I rode through, and that ain’t been but four or five months. And I ain’t ever heard of Boggy Town.”
“That McGee fellow started calling it that. I think he’s planning to start his own little town for outlaws on the run. He put some buildings up fast,” Jim said. “He’s selling whiskey to outlaws coming up from Texas, and he’s selling rotgut firewater to my people at the back door. He’s hauling whiskey in by the barrel, fills his bottles out of the barrels. That’s for his white customers. The Indians have to bring a fruit jar to hold their firewater.”
“Sounds like your problem is more than three hell-raisers shootin’ up the town,” Will said. “And it sounds like some big trouble for me, if this Boggy Town catches on.”
“That’s why I send for marshals,” Jim said. “I wanted you to see for yourself.”
* * *
“This ain’t no damn jail,” Zeke complained when Jim Little Eagle unlocked the door to the converted storehouse. “This ain’t nothin’ but a smokehouse. You can’t lock us up in there.”
He was not far off in his appraisal, but the storehouse had been fixed up to accommodate prisoners, complete with one small window and two straw pallets. Will had used it before to hold prisoners for a short time. “It’ll do for you two hams,” Will said.
“What about my brother?” Zeke asked. “He’s still bleedin’ like a stuck hog. He needs a doctor.”
“I’m goin’ to the doctor’s office right now,” Will replied. “Then we’ll see about gettin’ you some supper. Before long, you’ll be so comfortable here you won’t wanna leave.” Will hoped it was still early enough to catch the doctor in his office, so he hurried up the street to get him while Horace filled a water bucket for the prisoners. Ed stayed behind and put an empty bucket inside the jail for the prisoners’ convenience. Jim Little Eagle went with Will.
Dr. Franklyn Lowell’s office door was locked when they arrived, so they walked around the building and knocked on the back door. In a few minutes, the door opened and Dr. Lowell stood there, glaring down at the two lawmen. “Jim Little Eagle and Will Tanner,” he called back over his shoulder to his Choctaw cook and housekeeper. Turning back to Jim and Will, he complained, “It’s always suppertime when you two come looking for me. Don’t you ever shoot anybody when I’m not fixing to sit down to eat? Who’s shot this time?”
“Howdy, Doc,” Will greeted him. “Good to see you again, too. We’ve got a prisoner down in the jail with a bullet in his shoulder. I’d ’preciate it if you could take a look at him.” He had used Dr. Lowell’s services on other occasions and he couldn’t remember a time when it wasn’t inconvenient to the stocky little white-whiskered physician.
Recognizing Will’s playful bit of sarcasm, Doc snorted to show it didn’t bother him. “It’s about time you showed up around here,” he said. “It’s time somebody did something about those three saddle tramps that take delight in shooting up the town. It’s just a matter of time before I’m gonna have to take a bullet out of somebody who catches a stray shot.”
“Yes, sir,” Will responded. “I’ve got another deputy with me. We’re gonna see what we can do. These two men we’ve got in the jail didn’t have anything to do with shootin’ up the town, and one of ’em needs a doctor. Of course, I’ll pay your fee.”
Doc turned to face his housekeeper. “How long till those chops are done, Lila?” She told him she had not put them in the pan yet. “Well, wait on that till I get back. I won’t be long. Get me my bag.” He put on his coat while she hurried to fetch his bag. Will turned to Jim and suggested he might want to ride back and get his supper. Jim agreed and said he’d return after supper.
“You think your three hoodlums are gonna put on a show tonight?” Will asked Jim when they walked back to the jail with Doc Lowell.
“Maybe, maybe not,” Jim Little Eagle answered. “They got to get good and drunk first.” From what Jim had told them about the three men before, it appeared there was no motive behind their mischief other than the pure enjoyment of scaring the peaceful citizens of the town. His concern was that in their drunkenness, their shots were often wild, causing damage to windows and doors. As Doc had complained, he feared it was only a matter of time before someone was struck by a stray bullet.
“From what you’ve just told us, there’s grounds enough to arrest ’em,” Will said. “So, we’ll just wait to see if the
y’re still around. Ain’t that what you say, Ed?” he asked as they arrived at the jail. Ed smiled and agreed. He knew Will was trying to remember who was supposed to be in charge. “Like I said, you might as well go on home and eat your supper,” Will repeated to Jim. “Course, you’re welcome to eat with us. Horace is fixin’ to fry up some bacon right now.”
“Thanks just the same,” Jim replied. “I’ll go to the house now. I’ll be back after I eat.” He jumped on his horse and rode back up the creek.
As Doc had told Lila, he didn’t take long to remove the .44 slug from Ike’s shoulder. He didn’t concern himself with his patient’s comfort. Ed Pine commented to Will afterward, “Hell, I coulda done that with my skinnin’ knife.” Will agreed with him but pointed out that there would probably have been a higher risk of infection. He then reminded Ed that he was just a posseman on this job. Ed was the deputy marshal and, as such, it was his responsibility to pay the doctor. “So that’s the way it’s gonna be,” Ed joked. “All right, I’ll pay Dr. Lowell and I’ll make sure Dan Stone remembers to pay you a posseman’s pay.”
“Hey, Doc, I’m gonna need some medicine for my pain,” Ike called after the doctor when he went out the door and Ed locked it.
“They’re fixing to give you some supper,” Doc answered him through the door. “That’ll do you just fine.”
“He’s eat-up with compassion for his patients, ain’t he?” Ed commented aside to Will. “I’m glad he didn’t do the job on my wounds.”
Doc paused to complain before he started back up the street. “Next time you shoot one of these outlaws, bring him to my office instead of dragging me down here.” He started again, but stopped to add, “And don’t bring him at suppertime.”
“Whatever you say, Doc,” Will responded.
By the time Doc had finished and collected his fee, Horace had a fire going back at his camp by the creek with side meat in the pan and coffee working away. When it was ready, he brought it up to the jail and Will went in with him to guard the prisoners while Horace laid dinner out for them on the small table in the center of the cell. After the Bowers brothers were fed, Will and Ed went back with Horace to get their supper. The town seemed quiet enough as darkness began to set in, but there were still lights on in a few of the shops. Tom Brant had not taken in his display of long-handled shovels he had in front of his store, and Lottie Mabry’s dining room was still busy. The two deputy marshals and their cook sat by the fire drinking coffee, enjoying the peaceful night. Horace produced another coffee cup for Jim Little Eagle to use when he returned to join them.
A Good Day for a Massacre Page 34