Pray for Death

by William W. Johnstone; J. A. Johnstone

  Harley was happy to get the plate of food, however, and said as much. “You ain’t as big a hardcase as I thought you was,” Harley said, then yelled, “You goin’ again?” when Will went out the door, in a hurry to get to the stable.

  As he led Buster out of the stable, he looked up toward the end of the street and was glad to see the freight wagon still sitting where it was before. There were some things he needed at Brant’s General Merchandise if everything went the way he anticipated that night, so he rode Buster up to the store. Since the wagon had not moved, he took his time making his purchases at Brant’s. He was loading them on his horse when the two men finally left Lottie’s. One of them, a man toting a tremendous belly before him, was still rubbing that belly and talking away the whole time he was climbing up on the wagon seat. His partner, in contrast, just listened and grinned as he hoisted his skinny frame up beside him. Probably talking about the apple pie, Will thought. He stood beside his horse and watched the big-bellied man drive his horses around the building and start out toward the creek.

  When he saw the wagon appear on the other side of the rooming house, he climbed up into the saddle, but held Buster there until he saw the wagon turn onto the road to McAlester. Then he gave Buster a gentle nudge and the buckskin started walking slowly after the wagon. Maintaining a distance far behind, he kept pace with the wagon until it came to the bridge across Muddy Boggy Creek, a short distance north of town. When the wagon left the main road and began following the trail along Muddy Boggy, there was no doubt where they were heading. And there was little chance those barrels were filled with molasses. Certain where they were going now, Will held Buster back, not willing to risk being seen by the two he followed. He was not thinking to take any action right away. Instead, he planned to watch the activity around Mama’s Kitchen while it was still daylight, just in the wild chance Tiny and Hawkins had decided to heed his warnings and pull out. He was still bound to keep his word when he told them they had until tomorrow night to leave, even though he expected them to deny him. When he thought he had given the wagon enough time to remain out of his sight, he started up again.

  When he reached the grove of trees from which he had watched the saloon before, he pulled Buster into the thickest part of it and rode down next to the water. He dismounted and left him there near some laurel bushes, where he could drink from the creek if he wanted. Then with his rifle in hand, he made his way back up the bank to the same spot where he had watched Mama’s Kitchen before. The first thing that registered in his mind was the big freight wagon just pulling up behind the barn. While he watched, Tiny and Hawkins came from the main building to greet the drivers. Bud Tilton was not far behind them. It looked to be a joyful event as the two men who delivered the load untied the canvas and rolled it back to show the barrels. Will counted nine of them. Teddy Green came from the barn then, carrying two large boards to be used as a ramp. When they were fixed in place, Teddy helped the two wagon drivers roll the barrels off the wagon. Bud jumped in to help Teddy roll the barrels into the back door of the barn. Just like happy little ants getting ready for the winter, Will thought. Thinking of something Tiny McGee had said, Will declared, “Looks like Tiny’s callin’ my bluff.” As soon as all the barrels were unloaded, everyone went into the saloon to settle up.

  There was no need to continue watching the activity around Mama’s Kitchen. The acceptance of the “molasses” delivery was confirmation enough for Will to determine Tiny and Hawkins’s intention to stay put and continue their establishment of Boggy Town. He would wait until dark to take the next step in dealing with them. For now, he needed to go back to town and prepare to take care of another piece of business, so he went to get his horse. In the saddle again, he rode the trail back to Atoka, where he had things to do.

  As soon as he got to town, he went straight to the telegraph office and sent a wire to Marshal Dan Stone requesting another deputy and a jail wagon as soon as possible. He also asked for an advance of expense money to feed four additional prisoners. When that was done, he rode out to the McAlester road, where it crossed Muddy Boggy Creek, to wait for the appearance of the empty freight wagon.

  Close to suppertime now, he waited until the wagon appeared, coming up the narrow trail, but he made no move on it. Playing a hunch, he remained there on the side of the road and watched as the wagon turned back toward town. Both men nodded to him as they passed by and he returned the gesture, then pulled Buster in behind the wagon, but not so close as to cause suspicion. He figured they had just gotten paid for the “molasses” they delivered and were feeling in a mood to celebrate. In all likelihood, they had a drink of whiskey before they left Boggy Town. There being no saloon in Atoka, the next best thing would be a good supper before starting back to wherever they had come from. Will felt confident the man with the big belly would be so inclined. That left Lottie’s, a place they had already discovered to have a good meal. Of course, Will allowed, they might have brought a bottle from Mama’s Kitchen, but that’s not the same as going someplace where a couple of women would wait on them. If his hunch proved correct, it would make it a little easier to make the arrest.

  His guess proved to be a good one. The wagon pulled in beside Lottie’s as before, so he followed them in, after giving them a minute or two to get themselves settled. He paused at the door to see them pick a table, then he went in to be greeted by Lou-Bell. “Howdy, Will,” she said with a friendly smile. “You’re gettin’ to be a regular.”

  “Always am when I’m in town,” Will replied. “I’ll just sit over here near the door.” He answered “Yes” when she asked if he wanted coffee. There were a couple of reasons he was being so casual about arresting the two men for bringing whiskey into the Nations. It would be much easier to make the arrest when they least expected it. But he also decided he might as well let them enjoy their supper. It would save him the cost of providing one for them. Dan Stone should appreciate that, he thought.

  He finished his supper rather quickly, even though the two men he watched seemed to be in no hurry to be on their way. When Lottie came to visit with him, he told her he would need a plate for his prisoner as usual, even though it was of some concern to him as to whether or not he could make an arrest while carrying a plate of food. His problem was solved when Jim Little Eagle walked in. “You said come back after supper,” Jim said as he sat down at the table with him. “I see your horse outside.”

  “You came at just the right time,” Will said with a chuckle. “I’m gonna need an extra hand here in a minute or two. Have a seat and I’ll buy you a cup of coffee while we wait.”

  Jim shrugged and sat down, then asked, “What are we waiting for?”

  “See those two men at the table back there? They came offa that wagon parked beside the buildin’. They just hauled a load of whiskey to Boggy Town, so I’m gonna arrest ’em as soon as they finish eating.”

  Confused, Jim took another look at the two men, casually finishing up their supper. “Do they know that?”

  “Not yet,” Will answered. “I thought I’d let ’em pay for their supper, save the government a little money. And we’ll wait till they go outside, so we don’t make a fuss in Lottie’s dinin’ room.” Lou-Bell arrived at the table then, carrying Harley’s supper. Will asked her to bring Jim Little Eagle a cup of coffee.

  Seeing the plate of food, Jim grunted, “Now I see why you needed me.”

  “Or I can carry the food and you make the arrest,” Will said.

  “I got no authority,” Jim replied, also joking.

  Jim still had half a cup of his coffee left when Will said it was time to go. The two men showed signs of leaving and Will wanted to wait for them outside, so he stood up. Jim took the rest of his coffee in two big gulps, then followed suit. “Don’t forget Harley’s supper,” Will said.

  Outside, Will walked over near a corner of the front of the building, and he and Jim waited there, as if having a casual conversation. In less than a minute, the two freighters came out of
the dining room and passed by them on the way to their wagon. Engrossed in their own conversation, they were unaware of the two lawmen following close behind them until the big-bellied one started to step up on the wagon seat. “Just hold it right there,” Will ordered. “Don’t move and you won’t get shot.”

  They did as they were told, both men with their hands up and facing the wagon. “Listen, mister,” Pete Jessup responded at once, “we ain’t got nothin’ but an empty wagon and I just spent the last penny I had in that eatin’ place.”

  “He’s tellin’ you the honest truth,” his skinny partner volunteered.

  “You sayin’ you just gave that wagonload of whiskey to Tiny McGee for nothin’?” Will asked. “I was willin’ to give you fellows credit for more brains than that. We’ll do a recount after we get to the jail.”

  “Jail?” Ernie Pratt exclaimed. “Are you a lawman? I thought you was fixin’ to hold us up. Hell, we can cut you in for a share of our money. Can’t we, Pete?”

  “Long as it ain’t too big a share,” Pete replied. “Always take care of the law. It’d be worth it to us to let us be on our way, and we’ll get on outta town right away.”

  “That’s a fact,” Ernie declared. “We was plannin’ to leave right now. We ain’t broke no laws or raised hell a-tall. When you get right down to it, you ain’t got nothin’ to arrest us for.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you boys,” Will said. “I’m arresting you for sellin’ whiskey in Indian Territory. I think you know that’s against the law, so put your hands behind you.”

  Still hoping for mercy, Ernie argued their case further as he stuck his hands behind his back. “Me and Pete ain’t sellin’ no whiskey in Indian Territory. We’re just a couple of wagon drivers, deliverin’ the freight. We ain’t got nothin’ to do with what that freight might be. Besides, them barrels said they was full of molasses. Nobody said anything to us about whiskey.”

  Will almost caught himself feeling sorry for the two men. And had he truly believed they had not knowingly participated in the selling of whiskey in Indian Territory, he might have been inclined to let them go with a warning not to come back. But that would set a bad example for other “innocent men” involved in the supplying of whiskey to the Nations. Besides that, he felt pretty confident that he would find a considerable amount of money when he ordered them to empty their pockets before locking them up. “Well, I reckon somebody is sayin’ something to you now,” he replied. “You can turn around now and we’ll take a little walk over to the railroad track. After we get you comfortable for the night, I’ll take your mules and wagon down to the stable.”

  “That wagon and team don’t belong to us,” Pete said. Making one last appeal then, he asked, “How ’bout it, Sheriff? What would it take to let us go? We could afford a tidy little sum, just for the chance to leave this town behind for good and never come back.”

  “I ain’t the sheriff,” Will answered, “and now you’re also guilty of tryin’ to bribe a U.S. Deputy Marshal, so start walkin’.” He prodded Pete in the back with the muzzle of his rifle to get him started in the right direction. Then, taking a blind shot at a chance to get some more incriminating information, he said, “Don’t worry about those four mules and the freight wagon. We’ll take good care of ’em. Who do I get in touch with to come and get ’em?”

  “They belong to Ward Hawkins,” Pete blurted without thinking and before Ernie could bump him with his shoulder to stop him. “I don’t know where he is right now,” he quickly added.

  “I’ll try to get in touch with him,” Will said.

  Darkness was approaching when they marched the two prisoners up to the jail. When they went inside Will’s office, Harley called out from his jail room, “Is that you, Will? You bring me any supper?” He had already decided that he wouldn’t get another meal today, since Will brought him one close after noon.

  “Yeah, Harley,” Will called back. “Jim Little Eagle took pity on you and brought you a plate of food. But you’ve been complainin’ so much about needin’ some company, so I brought you some.” That gave Harley something to wonder about and served to keep him quiet for a bit while Will and Jim searched the new prisoners. As Will suspected, each man was carrying more than one hundred dollars, which was pretty hefty pay for the average mule skinner to drive a team from somewhere in Texas—which was Will’s guess. After he counted it out to the penny, he gave each man five dollars back. “Just so you don’t go around broke,” he told them. Then he got a tablet out of a canvas bag that held some of his other belongings and wrote the sum down with an explanation as to what the money represented. Then he asked Jim to sign it as a witness to the amount. “I’ll turn this money in to Dan Stone when I get back to Fort Smith.” He went through that formality for Jim’s sake. He just thought it would keep the Choctaw policeman from wondering. But he also intended to keep an account of the money because he knew he was going to spend some of it for his new jail. He needed things like a coffeepot bigger than the small pot he carried with him and extra cups, blankets, and other things he hadn’t even thought of yet. He also thought it a good idea to let Pete and Ernie know their money was going to the court in Fort Smith, and not in his pocket.

  Jim shrugged indifferently. “No need, they take your word for it. But I sign if you want.”

  Will unlocked the cell room and removed the cuffs from his new prisoners. The three of them all squinted in the faint light now entering the small barred windows in an effort to judge their cellmates. Harley quickly took his supper from Jim Little Eagle, fearful he might be asked to share it. Will assured him that Pete and Ernie had already had their supper. “I bought some blankets and a couple of candles for you. They’re on my horse. I’ll bring ’em to you after I take care of Ward Hawkins’s mules. I expect you’ll need some matches, too. And I’ll give you some, if you’ll promise me you won’t set the jail on fire. ’Cause, if you do, locked up tight as this building is, you’d all cook like pigs in an oven.”

  He and Jim left them to get acquainted with one another and went to get their horses. On Buster, Will took hold of the bridle of the lead mule and led the wagon down to the stable. Jim Little Eagle stood by, patiently waiting for Will to tell Stanley Coons who the mules belonged to and what he should do with them. When that was taken care of, Jim wanted to know the purpose of his presence. “This afternoon, you said you need me tonight after supper. Did you need me just to carry a plate of supper to your prisoner? I could have sent Mary to do that.”

  Will laughed. “No, but you did do a good job of it—didn’t look to me like you spilled a crumb.” Jim grunted in response. Will continued. “No, from what I saw down there this afternoon, Hawkins and McGee don’t have any plans to pack up and leave. To the contrary, I followed these two jaspers we just locked up to Boggy Town with a wagon carryin’ barrels of whiskey, which they unloaded into the barn. And now, one of those fellows said the wagon and the mules belong to Ward Hawkins. That sorta brings it all back on Hawkins, doesn’t it? All that, to me, is enough to know for sure they are defyin’ the law and have every intention of sellin’ whiskey to white and Indian, no matter what the law says. So I’m plannin’ to make a little Indian raid down there tonight, and if you’d like to be part of it, you’re welcome to come along. I expect you’re more qualified to make an Indian raid than I am. But that ain’t to say I’d think badly of you if you didn’t want to get too involved with what should be the business of the Marshals Service.”

  “It ain’t all white-man’s business,” Jim was quick to respond. “That coyote is poisoning my people with his rotgut firewater. This is my fight, too. I go with you.”

  “Good, I knew you would. I’ll tell you what I had in mind.” After he told Jim what he was planning to do, Jim said that he’d like to be a part of it.

  CHAPTER 8

  Will and Jim waited until the moon was high overhead before riding down the trail to Boggy Town. When they approached the structure called Mama’s Kitchen, they swung off the trail a
nd rode down through the trees along the edge of the creek. Coming up behind the saloon, they dismounted and tied their horses about twenty-five yards from the rear of the barn, where they could get to them in a hurry, if need be. The next thing to find out was where everybody was, so, leaving his rifle on his horse, Will carried a crowbar instead, as they carefully made their way up from the creek and along the side of the main building. There were a couple of horses tied at the hitching rail, evidence that Tiny had a couple of customers. That was a good sign on this night. It would contribute to the distraction Will intended. Moving up beside the front window, he peeked inside to see if he could account for everyone. Luck seemed to be in his favor, for he saw Teddy Green sitting at one of the tables with two men Will had not seen before and assumed were the riders of the horses out front. So, it appeared that no one was in the barn or stable, which was his primary concern. He turned to signal Jim.

  They went at once to the rear of the barn, where Will had seen them storing the whiskey barrels. The door was latched shut with a padlock protecting it. Will went to work on the latch, but soon found out they were fixed solid with bolts that ran through the door. Not to be discouraged, he went to the hinges of one of the doors and went to work again with his crowbar. The hinges proved less formidable, having been held in place by nails, and the crowbar soon backed the hinges off the side of the door. Then he and Jim lifted the door and swung it open from the hinged side. With the little light that found its way through the open door, they could see the whiskey barrels seated on a cushion of hay, the bungholes up. All in a row, he counted eleven barrels, which told him Tiny already had a couple of barrels before this shipment arrived. He and Jim went to work to determine how hard it was going to be to lift the bungs from the barrels, and found it to be easier than they had expected. So, Jim left Will to lift the bungs from the rest of the barrels and roll each barrel upside down while he went to the stable and opened all of the stalls.