Pray for Death

by William W. Johnstone; J. A. Johnstone

  Tom and Harley exchanged glances, then both nodded. “Might be you don’t need to get them boys outta jail, if you weren’t just blowin’ smoke about that hundred dollars a head,” Harley said. “It didn’t bother me none to shoot that bank teller, and there ain’t never been nothin’ wrong about shootin’ a lawman. Ain’t that right, Tom?” Tom said that it definitely was. He was thinking that two hundred dollars was almost as much as they got from robbing the bank.

  “I’m a man of my word,” Tiny responded. “Like I said, it would be worth one hundred a head to get rid of those two lawmen. I reckon I didn’t think about you boys wantin’ the job.”

  “So it’s a deal?” Tom asked.

  “It’s a deal,” Tiny answered, “and the sooner, the better.”

  “Well, I reckon tomorrow is soon enough, then,” Harley said. “We’ll just take a little ride into town in the mornin’ and see if we can find ’em.” He hesitated a moment. “I reckon that’s where they’ll be. That’s where the jail is, ain’t it?”

  “We’ll find out where they are,” Tom said. “They might not be together, so we’ll try to see if we can catch ’em when they are. That way, we could get the job done quicker and get outta town before some citizen has time to take a shot at us.”

  “That’s a fact,” Tiny agreed. “You don’t wanna get just one of ’em and have the other’n comin’ after you.” And me, too, he was thinking.

  “Most likely they’ll be comin’ back here to check on you. Why don’t we just shoot the dirty rats down when they walk in?” Harley proposed.

  “No,” Tiny responded at once. “We don’t want ’em killed anywhere close to this place. That might bring a posse here. You’ve gotta catch ’em in town or someplace outside of town, anywhere but here.”

  The planning might have been simpler had they known of a decision being made in town that night.

  * * *

  “What did you fellers decide?” Horace Watson asked when he walked over to the fire where Will and Ed were discussing their plans for the next day. He poured a cup of coffee for himself and sat down.

  Ed answered him. “Well, like I was tellin’ Will, we can’t keep those four prisoners here in that little jail. We need to get started back to Fort Smith with ’em. This business with Tiny McGee down at Boggy Town was something we didn’t know about or come prepared to handle. At least we took care of the problem we were sent down here to handle, so we need to take ’em to trial. Hell, we even arrested the two that robbed the store in McAlester. Will don’t wanna leave till we put McGee outta business.”

  “Ain’t no tellin’ how long that’s gonna take,” Horace speculated. “That’s a long time to hold those four, ain’t it?”

  “How about you and Horace transportin’ those four prisoners back to Fort Smith, and I’ll stay here and work on the problem at Boggy Town?” Will proposed. “Would you have any trouble with that?”

  Ed shrugged. “No, I got no problem with that. I’ve transported more than four before. I’m more concerned with what you might run into by yourself.”

  “I ain’t takin’ it lightly,” Will said. “But if we don’t keep after that big jasper, he’s gonna have more and more outlaws on the run showin’ up in Boggy Town. And before you know it, you’re gonna need the army to come in and clear ’em out. If we can, I’d rather try to stop him before it gets to that point. Look at those two we saw in the saloon tonight. No tellin’ what they’re on the run for. And, hell, he’s sellin’ whiskey to the Indians, too. That’s what’s got Jim Little Eagle so worked up.”

  “All right,” Ed said. “I’ll load ’em up in the mornin’ and start back to Fort Smith with ’em. You watch yourself, Will. That’s a dangerous man you’re messin’ with, and he’s got a lot invested in that damn Boggy Town he’s tryin’ to start up. When I get to Fort Smith, I’ll most likely turn around and come back, maybe with some more help.”

  “I’ll be careful,” Will promised. “What about you, Horace? You won’t have a posseman with you on the trip back. You okay with that?”

  “I’m okay with it,” Horace answered. “I’ll be Ed’s posseman and do the cookin’, too.”

  * * *

  Ed was in a hurry to get started the next day, so he had Will and Horace up well before daylight that morning to break camp. After the horses were hitched up to the jail wagon, Ed rigged a lead line and tied the extra horses they had picked up to it. Will kept the horse Raymond Atkins had ridden to use as a packhorse—the others would be taken to Fort Smith with the prisoners. When he was ready, Will unlocked the jail and they paraded four disgruntled prisoners outside. With shackles on their feet and their hands cuffed together, they complained bitterly over the sleepless night just passed. It was obvious that Stump and Bob didn’t get along with the Bowers brothers. “What about some breakfast?” Stump Grissom protested. “You gotta feed us.”

  “When we stop to rest the horses,” Ed replied. “Then we’ll feed you.” That brought on a chorus of grumbling from all four prisoners that continued well after they were all loaded into the jail wagon. The extra supplies Horace had acquired while Will and Ed had gone down to Boggy Town were loaded on the extra horses. When all was ready, Will wished them an uneventful journey and stood beside the jail wagon as Horace climbed up in the driver’s seat. Ed climbed on his gray gelding and gave Will a little salute with a touch to the brim of his hat with his forefinger.

  He stood back when Horace started his team of horses, and as the wagon rolled by him, he saw Bob Atkins glaring at him through the bars. “I ain’t gonna forget you, Tanner,” Bob growled.

  “Is that a fact?” Will responded. “I reckon I’ll always remember you, too.” With no real plan for how he was going to approach the Boggy Town problem, he stood and watched the wagon rolling slowly out of town. He hoped Dan Stone wasn’t going to raise hell with him for staying behind. Hope to hell Ed and Horace don’t have any trouble, he thought as he locked the jail door. First thing to do is take the horses to the stable, then have myself a good breakfast at Lottie Mabry’s dinin’ room, he decided.

  * * *

  “Set yourself anywhere you want, long as somebody else ain’t already settin’ there,” An unfamiliar face greeted him when he walked into the dining room. “You want coffee?”

  “Yep, I sure do,” Will replied, then out of habit, he sat down at a small table against a side wall, facing the front door, while she went to fetch the coffeepot.

  Lottie Mabry came from the kitchen at that moment, and upon seeing him, walked over to greet him. “Will Tanner,” she said, “it’s been a little while since you’ve been in town. I heard you put a stop to those three hell-raisers last night. It’s a wonder somebody hasn’t gotten shot by now.”

  “How’ve you been, Lottie?” Will responded. “I see you’ve got some new help since the last time I was here.” As he said it, the newcomer arrived with his coffee.

  “Yeah, I guess that’s right,” Lottie said. “Lou-Bell, this is U.S. Deputy Marshal Will Tanner.” Turning back to Will, she said, “Will, this is Louise Bellone. We call her Lou-Bell for short. It just seems to fit.” Back to Lou-Bell, she said, “Will usually likes his eggs scrambled, sausage, fried potatoes, and biscuits.” To Will again, she asked, “Is that about right, or have you changed your taste?”

  “You sure have some memory,” Will answered her, then said, “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Lou-Bell, and I reckon we’ll go with what Lottie said.” Lottie smiled, pleased with her memory. He decided that was as good a breakfast as any, even though he had set his mind on pancakes before he walked in. And to have ordered differently would have taken some satisfaction from Lottie.

  “Take good care of him,” Lottie said to Lou-Bell. “He stopped those three crazy hell-raisers last night.” When Lou-Bell went to the kitchen to place Will’s order, Lottie said, “Ted Murdock just left here a couple of minutes ago. He said you had to shoot one of those men.”

  “’Fraid so,” Will replied. “Things
don’t always go the way you want ’em to.” He was afraid she wanted more details, but he was spared when she was called to another table. In short order, his breakfast was delivered, and Lou-Bell filled his cup again. He was glad to see the quality was as good as he remembered. When he finished, he told Lottie it was the best in the territory, as was his usual habit everywhere he ate.

  He left the dining room and walked down the street to the stable to get his horse. He figured he might as well start watching the comings and goings at Mama’s Kitchen. Stanley Coons saw him coming and walked out of the barn door to meet him. “Good morning, Will. I just gave that buckskin of yours a portion of oats. You fixin’ to saddle him up?”

  “Yep,” Will replied, “I think I’ll take a little ride down the creek.”

  “I saw Ed Pine and the jail wagon leavin’ town early this morning.” Stanley was about to say more when he suddenly spun around and dropped to the ground when he was struck in the shoulder. A fraction of a second after, the sound of the rifle rang out. In the next few seconds, that shot was followed by others. Reacting immediately, Will hit the ground, grabbed Stanley’s collar, and dragged him behind the open door of the barn as a hail of bullets flew all about them.

  “Hang on, I gotcha!” Will grunted as he continued to drag the wounded man. “We gotta find more cover than this door!” Even as he said it, the door started taking rounds from what Will figured to be more than one rifle. Once he got Stanley all the way inside the barn, he took a quick look at the shoulder wound, pulled his bandanna off, and stuffed it over the wound. “Here, hold this tight against that wound,” he said. Dazed and partially in shock, Stanley just stared up at him, but he held the bandanna on his shoulder. “You’re gonna be all right,” Will assured him. “You just lie here and hold that wound while I try to see who’s shootin’ at us.”

  Up the street, at the back corner of the jailhouse, the two snipers hurriedly reloaded their rifles. “We got one of ’em!” Harley exclaimed. “I don’t know if we got the other one or not. They both went down, but I don’t know if that one that dragged the first one was hit.”

  “Damn it,” Tom swore. “We shoulda got closer while they was standin’ outside talkin’. Now what are we gonna do?”

  “I don’t know,” Harley answered, “but I ain’t plannin’ on goin’ in that barn lookin’ for ’em.” He walked over to the opposite corner to take a look up the street, concerned now about the possibility of gunfire from some of the merchants. “Ain’t nobody stuck their nose out yet. I’m thinkin’ we’d best make ourselves scarce before somebody decides to take a shot at us.”

  Still staring at the barn beside the stables, Tom said, “I don’t see no sign of anybody comin’ outta there. There’s a heap of holes in that door. You reckon we mighta hit somethin’?”

  “I don’t know,” Harley said. “Why don’t you go down there and see? I’m gonna jump on my horse and get the hell outta here. We had a perfect chance and we messed it up. Let’s go on back to Boggy Town. If that other one wasn’t hit, he’ll most likely come lookin’ for us. We’ll just shoot him down when he shows up.”

  “Tiny said he didn’t want those deputies shot at his place,” Tom reminded him.

  “Yeah, well, things have changed, and we’ve got a better chance of gettin’ that lawman if he shows up down there.” He suddenly jumped backward when a chunk of siding next to his head suddenly flew up in the air and the report of a rifle sang out. “Damn!” he exclaimed. “I’m gettin’ outta here!” He took off at a sprint for the horses in the trees forty yards behind the jail. Tom was right behind him.

  Kneeling in the hayloft of Stanley’s barn, Will swore under his breath for taking the shot when he really didn’t have one. He took one more shot when he got a glimpse of a flying coat tail heading toward the creek behind the jail. Although anxious to get after them right away, he knew he had to take care of Stanley, so he went back down the ladder as quickly as he could. He found Stanley where he had left him, but he was sitting up now. “Did you see him?” he asked. “Why did he shoot at us?”

  Will was glad to see that the wound was not that serious. “There was more than one,” he said. “And I’m thinkin’ you got hit because they thought you were either Ed Pine or me. We gotta get you to the doctor to take care of that shoulder. You think you can walk?”

  “Yeah, I think I can,” he replied, and started to struggle to get on his feet. Will took hold of his good arm and helped him up. When Stanley saw that he was steady on his feet, he looked at Will with a look of awe and stated, “I ain’t ever been shot before. It’s kinda like gettin’ kicked by a horse.”

  “I reckon it is,” Will agreed. “Can you make it to Doc’s, or do I need to hitch up your buckboard?”

  “I think I can make it,” Stanley said.

  Will gave him another looking-over and decided it best not to leave him to make it alone. “I’ll tell you what, I’m gonna saddle Buster, anyway. I’ll let him tote you up to Doc’s.”

  “If you think so,” Stanley said. “This is the first time I’ve ever been shot,” he repeated, as if it was a rite of passage.

  “Yep,” Will responded. “This must be your lucky day.” He went into the stable to fetch Buster. Working as fast as he could, he saddled the buckskin and helped Stanley up into the saddle. Then he led the horse up the street to Dr. Lowell’s office.

  Like most of the other residents of Atoka, Doc was standing out in front of his office to see what the trouble was, now that the shooting was over. “I should have expected you to show up here when I heard all that shooting. Business always picks up when you’re in town.” He cocked his head to give Stanley a sideways glance. “Didn’t expect to see you mixed up in it, Coons.”

  In no mood to deal with Doc’s cynicism at the moment, Will helped Stanley down off Buster. “He happened to get caught with some lead that was meant for me.” He had a trail to follow that was getting colder by the minute, so he asked Stanley if he thought he could get back to the stable without help.

  “Well, if he can’t, I’ll see that he gets home,” Doc said, surprising them both. “You look like you’re itching to go after whoever that was that did all the shooting, and I’d just as soon have you catch ’em.”

  “’Preciate it, Doc,” Will said. “I’ll pay your bill when I get back.” He stepped up in the stirrup and turned to Stanley. “I’m awful sorry you got in the way of those bullets.”

  “I ain’t blamin’ you, Will. Only thing is, you’re gonna have to take care of your horses yourself when you get back,” Stanley replied. Will threw his leg over and settled in the saddle, and Buster started out at a fast walk, heading for the last place Will got a glimpse of a flying coat tail. As he rode away, he heard Stanley telling Doc that this was the first time he had ever been shot.

  Will paused briefly at the back corner of the jail to notice a great many empty shell casings scattered on the ground. They told him what he already knew, that this was where the snipers had set up to ambush him. In their haste to retreat, they had taken no pains to disguise their route of flight. Aided by an early-morning light rain, the tracks of two men running toward the trees by the creek were easy to see. Will didn’t bother to dismount until halfway to the trees. He pulled Buster to a sudden stop and jumped down to examine the ground where the impressions on the wet ground looked to have been left by one of the men falling. Near the center of the marks, he saw several drops of blood and one blood smear. Could be that second shot found meat, he thought. But if it did, it must not have been serious because the impressions in the ground told him that the man had gotten on his feet again.

  He looked now toward the creek. The tracks told him that both men continued on toward the trees. He stopped to make sure before following, but he could have easily seen their horses if they were hiding in the cottonwoods, waiting for him in ambush. Since they were not, he rode Buster into the trees. Although he was 99 percent sure where the two had fled, he climbed down from the saddle to search for a t
rail to follow, just to be totally certain. The tracks were not so easily seen once he reached the trees until he came upon a spot where their horses were tied. To make doubly sure he found the right spot, the horses had been thoughtful enough to leave fresh droppings for him to find. There was no mystery to solve. He felt pretty confident he was following the two men he had seen in Mama’s Kitchen, and his purpose in scouting their trail was to make sure they were heading back there. Once he was satisfied they were not running in a different direction, he stopped looking for tracks and headed straight toward Boggy Town and Mama’s Kitchen.

  CHAPTER 5

  Tiny McGee walked out on the front porch of Mama’s Kitchen when he heard the sound of fast-approaching horses. He was surprised to see Harley and Tom back so soon. From the lathered appearance of their horses, he guessed that they had galloped them all the way back from town. “Did you get ’em?” he asked.

  “Got one of ’em, for sure,” Harley answered as he climbed down from the saddle. “The other one, maybe. They both went down.”

  “If you got both of ’em, why’d you have to wear those horses out to get back here?” Tiny wanted to know. “You ain’t got a posse on your tail, have you?” Harley walked around to the other side of Tom’s horse to give him a hand to get down. “What the hell?” Tiny exclaimed when he saw the blood on Tom’s leg. “You’ve got a posse on your tail, and you’re leadin’ ’em right to my door,” he quickly surmised. Immediately irate, he fumed, “I told you to keep this business away from my door!”