“What about the rest of the people in that town?” Ben asked. “Anybody likely to help the deputy? Somebody that might take a potshot at us?”
“It’d sure surprise me if they did,” Cobb answered. “I didn’t see anybody that looked like they’d likely stick their necks out to stop us.”
“What about the Injun you said was there with him?” Jace asked.
In the heat of the discussion, Cobb had forgotten about Jim Little Eagle. When he had talked with Tom Brant in the store, it seemed that Tom always talked about the deputy marshal acting alone. “Well, he was there when Archie got shot. That’s a fact. But he didn’t have no part in the shootin’, and I don’t think he’s with him all the time.” He shrugged indifferently. “But, hell, if he shows up, we’ll shoot him, too.”
Marley reached up to push his derby back a little from his forehead. “You know, ain’t nobody said nothin’ about what we’re gonna do after we get Hawkins and Tiny outta that jail. I don’t know ’bout the rest of you boys, but I’m thinkin’ Boggy Town is stone-cold dead. We ain’t gonna be able to run no saloon here after this. There’ll be a company of soldiers down here, lookin’ to take all of us to the gallows. Who the hell picked this spot to build this place, anyway?”
“I reckon it was mostly Tiny’s idea,” Cobb said, “but it don’t seem like the best place right now, does it?” Afraid that talk like that might encourage thinking toward simply getting on their horses and riding farther west, to the Arbuckle Mountains or beyond, he was quick to remind, “What we gotta do right away is get Ward and Tiny outta that jail, then we might decide to put this place behind us.”
Off to the side, Bud and Teddy leaned on the bar, while Etta and Ida stood by the kitchen door. All four were listening with close attention to the conversation taking place among the four men. Not one of them believed that Hawkins nor Tiny, and certainly not Cobb, would feel any need to take them with them if they decided to leave. In whispered speculation, the two women wondered if they might stay on at Mama’s Kitchen when the outlaws left. Maybe, they thought, they could run it as a real kitchen, at least well enough to survive, if Bud and Teddy would stay on to help them. “We’ll talk to ’em later,” Ida whispered, “’cause Hawkins ain’t gonna want either one of ’em. And we ain’t likely to find a place anywhere else we could just move into.”
“Wonder if we could turn that bunkhouse into a kind of hotel,” Etta said. Ida answered with a shrug. It was enough to set both minds to speculate.
“All right,” Cobb said. “I reckon we’ve all agreed that the best thing to do is to break into that jail and get them outta there. The thing we gotta decide now is when to do it. We don’t know when those extra deputies are gonna get here, so we can’t wait too long.”
“Why don’t we go tonight when the town’s closed up?” Jace suggested.
“That’d be all right, but what about that deputy?” Ben asked. “You said it looked like that place had two rooms. What if he’s sleepin’ in there? We go to work on that door and as soon as we break it down, we’re liable to get a dose of what Archie and Bill got.”
That gave them something to think about, but after a few moments, Cobb said, “For Pete’s sake, we’re talkin’ about one man. The four of us oughta give him the same dose Archie and Bill Todd got.” The discussion continued for another thirty minutes before it was finally decided to ride into town the next day, find the lawman, and attack the jail in broad daylight. The general consensus was that the citizens of the town would be helpless to do anything about it. There was also a unanimous decision that when it was done, it was best to abandon Tiny’s idea that Atoka was the best place to build an outlaws’ refuge.
“Hawkins might not like that,” Ben said. “He’s put a lotta money in this place.”
“That don’t make no difference,” Cobb responded. “If he wants to stay, then, hell, he can stay, but I guarantee ya, Mrs. Cobb’s little boy ain’t gonna stay with him.” He shrugged and added, “Hell, he’s gonna have to build another barn and stables, anyway. He might as well build ’em someplace that ain’t on a railroad that’ll bring soldiers and lawmen down here.” It was not lost on Cobb that this might be his opportunity to take charge of the gang, if Hawkins insisted on staying there. “Yes, sir,” he declared further, “sometimes it pays to know what’s best in the long run. If it’d been me callin’ the shots, we’da never built this place to start with. I ain’t sayin’ nothin’ against Ward or Tiny. They had their reasons, I reckon. I’m just sayin’ I woulda done somethin’ different.”
“Well, I reckon that about decides it,” Marley commented. He looked over at the two women standing by the kitchen door. “I hope to hell you women have got somethin’ started for supper.” That prompted them to retreat to the kitchen at once. Marley spoke out to Bud then. “You might as well break out another bottle of that likker you got under the counter. We might as well drink it till it runs out.”
“You know, Cobb, I’m thinkin’ we’re gonna need supplies and money when we leave here,” Jace commented. “And with that lawman dead, there won’t be nobody to stop us from cleanin’ that town out. There’s four of us here, and you said there’s five in that jail. I don’t see how the people in town can do anything about it.”
“Yeah,” Cobb said, “that’s the same thing I was thinkin’,” even though it hadn’t crossed his mind.
* * *
With no knowledge of how great the odds might be stacking up against him, Will Tanner carried on with his assumed obligations to his prisoners. Using his method of dispensing meals by using the table in the doorway, the prisoners were fed. Lou-Bell came with Jimmy and the cart. She would deal the plates one at a time while Will stood by with his rifle. He was well aware of an attitude change in Ward Hawkins and Tiny McGee. Still belligerent, their demeanor had turned almost casual. He could only conclude it was because of the appearance of the two visitors to the jail that afternoon. His senses told him that he now had a target on his back, and it prompted him to take more precautions than he normally would have. He was also of the opinion that he had best stay close to the jail, with a sharp eye for any strangers who showed up in town. Still with no idea how many of Hawkins’s friends had come to Boggy Town, he could identify only two—the man he had faced at the jail, and the thin man wearing the derby hat. It was not the best situation to be in.
Not surprising, Jim Little Eagle was ready to help him, and Will felt obligated to caution him about the chances of getting shot in the back. Jim told him he was well aware of that, but he would stand with him nevertheless. Will sent Jim home for his supper while he remained in the front room of the jail. When darkness began to gather, he locked the padlock on the front door, and with his rifle and plenty of ammunition, he retreated to a position on the railroad platform against the back of the telegraph office. There were two large barrels sitting on the platform, so he used them for cover. He was convinced that an attempt to break his prisoners out was sure to come that night. It figured that it was the sole reason for the two who showed up at the jail that afternoon, to get a good look at their target. With a blanket against the cold, he sat with his back against the telegraph office, planning to stay awake all night. He figured he had a better chance of defeating the break-in attempt from outside the jail. He had been at his post no more than an hour when Jim showed up, after leaving his horse with Stanley Coons.
With the arrival of morning, Will had to confess that his conviction that there would be an attempt to free his prisoners during the night had been wrong. The first rays of the dawn left him to wonder if they knew he and Jim were lying in wait for them. “Looks like I just cost us both a good night’s sleep,” he told the Choctaw policeman. “I sure had this one figured wrong.”
“I go home and sleep a little bit after I eat,” Jim said.
With prisoners to feed, Will was going to have to go to Lottie’s dining room for breakfast, so he said, “I oughta at least feed you some breakfast. Come on and go to Lottie’s w
ith me.”
“I think maybe I better go home,” Jim said. “Mary be worried. I’ll be back.”
“All right,” Will replied. “But tell Stanley Coons I’ll pay him for takin’ care of your horse.”
“I tell him,” Jim said, and started toward the stable. Will unlocked the jail and went in only long enough to leave his blanket.
Hearing him come into the office, Harley called out, “Hey, Tanner, is that you? It’s gettin’ along toward breakfast time, ain’t it?”
“Yeah, Tanner.” Will recognized the voice as Hawkins’s. “Go get us some breakfast.” He still sounded cocky. “And we need you to change these buckets.”
“In due time,” Will answered, aware of Hawkins’s tendency to needle him, as if he was cocksure his jail time would be short-lived. “Just relax and enjoy your time together.”
* * *
“You’re a little bit early,” Lou-Bell greeted him at the door. “The biscuits ain’t quite ready, but the coffee’s done. So set yourself down and I’ll get you some while you wait.”
“Much obliged,” he said, and went to one of the little tables by a window where he could see the jail. He was still wondering about the night just passed and speculating on the possibility that Hawkins’s friends might try in broad daylight. It occurred to him that maybe they outthought him and figured he would be set up and waiting for them to strike at night. He looked up and smiled at Lou-Bell when she brought his coffee.
“Reckon you want the regular five plates of breakfast for your prisoners,” she said, just to be sure. “Didn’t none of ’em die during the night, did they?”
He gave her half a chuckle, thinking it more a concern than she thought. “Nope,” he answered, “still need five.” By the time he finished his first cup of coffee, she came back with a breakfast of ham and eggs to go with his biscuits. A few early risers from the boardinghouse next door came in and Will was careful to notice each one. They were strangers to him, but not to Lottie and Lou-Bell, so he didn’t concern himself with them. He had to tell himself that anybody he was worried about would hardly come for breakfast. When he had finished, he paid Lottie for his breakfast as well as any extra he owed for the meals she had prepared for the additional prisoners. She was always happy to be paid promptly, unaware that the two men who drove the freight wagon were paying for the prisoners’ food. As he walked out the door, he told Lou-Bell, “I’ll send Jimmy back here with the cart.”
He walked along the board walkway on his way back to the jail, past the shops and the undertaker, past the blacksmith. As he approached Brant’s store, a man riding a bay horse pulled up to the rail in front and dismounted. He looked once toward the railroad track before walking in the store. Immediately alert, Will stepped up to the door and pushed it open far enough to hear Tom Brant say, “Good morning, Willard, what brings you into town so early?”
“Cornmeal,” Willard answered. “Genevieve wants to make corn bread for her pappy, so I had to ride five miles in here to get some cornmeal. I sure hope you ain’t sold out.”
Will laughed at himself for his caution. He eased the door closed and continued on his way to the jail, where he found Jimmy Barnet waiting with the four-wheel handcart. Will sent him promptly on his way to Lottie’s to get the breakfasts. “It’s all paid for,” Will said. “Tell Lou-Bell I said to give you a hot biscuit with some jelly on it.” He stood and watched the boy pull the handcart all the way up to Lottie’s before he unlocked the jailhouse door and went inside. The prisoners’ breakfast was managed without a hitch, the dirty dishes taken back on the cart, and it appeared to be just another day of waiting for a jail wagon from Fort Smith to show up.
* * *
It was a little before noon when the four outlaws slow-walked their horses four abreast past Stanley Coons’s stables at the north end of the street. Seeing them pass, Stanley walked out to the door to watch them as they continued on toward the railroad depot. He thought about the shooting the day before at the jail and worried that Will Tanner might be in trouble, but not to the point where he might pick up his shotgun and run to help him. Instead, he hurried back inside to make sure his money box was closed and out of sight under a loose board with hay scattered over it.
On the other side of the blacksmith’s forge, Ted Murdock peered out the window of his barbershop as the four rode slowly past his place. With faces of lethal determination, seeming to be searching for something, they immediately made Murdock think of the body still lying in his mortuary behind his barbershop. Thinking now that he should have buried it yesterday, he hurried back there to cover it with a sheet of canvas. He breathed a sigh of relief when he came back in the barbershop and saw that the four horsemen had walked on past his establishment. He decided it best not to open until later.
The four outlaws rode past him and went directly to the jail by the railroad tracks. The deputy was not there, since it was obvious that the building was locked up from the outside. So Cobb led his partners around to the window where he had talked to Hawkins before. “Ward, you still in there?”
Hawkins answered immediately. “Cobb?” Hell, yes, I’m still in here.” Feeling confident that he wouldn’t be for long, now that Cobb and the others had arrived, he joked, “I thought about leavin’, but it’s so comfortable in this railroad hotel, and the grub is so good, I decided to hang around a little longer.”
“Is that a fact?” Cobb returned in kind. “Well, if you ain’t made up your mind, me and the boys can come back later on in the week.” Getting serious then, he asked, “You got any idea where Tanner is? I’d like to take care of that jasper first before we start bustin’ this place apart.”
“No, I don’t,” Hawkins answered. “He ain’t been back here since he fed us breakfast, but I think you’re thinkin’ straight to take care of him first. The town ain’t that big. He’s gotta be around somewhere. Somebody might be hidin’ him in one of those stores.”
“All right, we’ll go from store to store. If he’s in town, we’ll find him, then we’ll get you outta there.”
* * *
“Tom!” Ellie Brant exclaimed. “Come look at this!”
Tom rushed from the storeroom where he had been sifting weevils from a barrel of flour. “What is it?” he asked when he saw her standing by the window, but he saw at once what had caused her distress. Looking past her at the four riders stopped in front of his store, he had a sinking feeling that they had come to cause trouble. “Don’t let ’em see you staring at ’em,” he said. No sooner had he said it when two of the men turned their horses toward the store and proceeded to dismount. “Go back to the storeroom and shut the door!” Tom said as he went behind the counter to stand by the shotgun he kept propped there.
Luke Cobb pushed the door open wide, looking right and left to make sure there was no one in the store but the man behind the counter. When he saw no one else, he walked in, followed by Ben Cassady. Making an effort to present a casual greeting, Tom said, “Good morning, can I help you?” Neither Cobb nor Ben responded to his greeting. Cobb walked past the counter, opened the storeroom door, and looked in. Seeing no one but Ellie standing wide-eyed beside the back shelves, he closed the door again. “Is there something in particular you’re looking for?” Tom asked. “Maybe I can help you find it.”
Cobb looked at the obviously nervous man, smirked, and said, “Yeah, I’m lookin’ for somethin’ in particular. Will Tanner, have you seen him?”
There was little doubt left in Tom’s mind now. The four men had come into town to do evil. He tried his best not to show his fear. “Will Tanner,” he echoed. “No, at least not since I saw him go to the dining room for breakfast early this morning.”
Convinced that the town might hide the lawman, Cobb walked past the storeroom door to another leading outside. “What’s that out back? Is that where you live?”
“Yes,” Tom answered. “That’s my house.”
“If I was to look in your house, I wouldn’t find Tanner settin’ around there so
mewhere, would I?”
“No, sir,” Tom insisted. “That’s my house,” he repeated. “We don’t have anything to do with Will Tanner. He’s a U.S. Deputy Marshal, sent down here from Fort Smith. He ain’t got nothing to do with us.”
“Is that a fact?” Cobb replied. “Then you won’t mind if we take a look in your house, will you?” While Tom sputtered for an answer, Cobb asked, “What’s your name, mister?”
“Tom Brant,” he answered.
“Just like it says on the sign,” Cobb said. “Ben, open that door there and ask Mrs. Brant to take you for a look in that house out back.”
Ben opened the door, almost hitting Ellie with it, since she had crept up to it in an attempt to hear what was being said in the store. “Come on outta there, sweetie,” Ben chortled. “Let’s go see what you got in that house.” With one hand on her shoulder and the other holding his handgun, he walked behind her as she led him out the door and across a boardwalk to a tidy cabin behind the store. Cobb waited inside the store, leaning against the counter, watching Tom, a knowing grin on his face. At the door of the cabin, Ben continued to hold Ellie by her shoulder as she opened the door, using her to protect against a gun waiting inside. It was apparent that there was no one there as soon as they walked inside. Ben took a quick look around before returning to the store to report that Tanner wasn’t there.
“Well, that didn’t take long,” Cobb said to Tom Brant. “Here’s your wife back safe and sound and no harm done. You didn’t even need that shotgun you’re standin’ over.” He laughed then and said, “Hold on, Ben, I think I wanna try out one of those.” He pointed to a rack of heavy axes standing near the front door. “That looks more like it might do the work on that door—better than the one I got from Teddy.” He walked over and picked up one of the heavier models. “This was made for work on thick oak doors.” He glanced in Brant’s direction. “I’m gonna try this one out, and if I like it, I’ll buy it.” Leaving Brant to gape speechless, he walked out the door with the ax to continue their search for Will Tanner.
Pray for Death Page 13
