Pray for Death

by William W. Johnstone; J. A. Johnstone

  “He’s dead,” Will answered, his mind back to the business at hand. “You folks can come on back now.”

  In a few moments, Teddy appeared in the kitchen door, having stopped briefly to stare at Jace’s body. “We heard all the shootin’ and after it got quiet for a while, I thought I’d come see. I just hollered for Cobb before I came in,” he started to explain, but Will interrupted.

  “I figured,” Will said. “No need to explain. Better to play it safe, in case Cobb was the one left standin’, right?”

  “Right,” Teddy quickly agreed. “But I’m glad it was you,” he was quick to add. He walked over to look at Cobb’s body behind the bar. “You still mean what you said out there in the smokehouse—you ain’t gonna arrest the rest of us?”

  “That’s right,” Will said, then joked. “Besides, I ain’t got any separate quarters for women in my little jailhouse.”

  Teddy laughed and said, “I’ll go tell ’em to come back in and get warm. I expect they’re about froze by now, especially Etta. She ain’t much more’n skin and bones, anyway.”

  He was only gone for a couple of minutes when Will heard them come in the back door. “He left a mess on my kitchen floor,” he heard Etta complain, and figured Jace had bled out on the floor. He had not taken the time to notice after he shot him. A few moments more, and the four of them came into the saloon. Etta was the first to go behind the counter to take a look at the late Luke Cobb. “I swear, I couldn’t abide that man,” she declared. “I have to say that’s the best he’s ever looked to me.” She turned to face Will then. “Teddy said you’re gonna keep your word about not arrestin’ us. Is that a fact?”

  In will’s mind her question seemed more like a demand. He suspected he knew who was going to run the operation, if they still had in mind staying here. “Yep, I’m good for my word. I got no plans to arrest you.” His answer brought a smile to her face. He asked her a question then. “Are you still thinkin’ about tryin’ to run a legitimate business here?” When she answered that they were, indeed, he continued. “Well, it ain’t likely to be easy. You’re gonna need some operatin’ money to get you started. So, I expect it’d be a good idea to go through Cobb’s and Jace’s pockets. They might have some cash money in their saddlebags, too.” That brought four grins immediately and Bud and Teddy wasted no time in starting the search. “I’ll take their guns and ammunition,” Will went on, “and anything else that’ll help identify ’em. I need something that will help confirm they’re dead.”

  Considering there were two bodies lying on the floor, there was now a gala atmosphere in the former saloon called Mama’s Kitchen. After the bodies were relieved of everything useful, Bud and Teddy, with Will’s help, dragged each corpse out of the building to be deposited by the back door. Teddy said that he would be happy to drag them out of the yard to be planted somewhere. “Wherever it is,” Etta said, “don’t put no fertilizer with ’em. I’d hate to see what might grow outta them two.” Even though the hour was late, she put on a fresh pot of coffee and warmed up some leftover biscuits in the oven. While Will enjoyed the coffee and biscuits, they served to remind him that he had left five prisoners in jail without any supper. He would have made arrangements to feed them, had it been possible, but there was no way it could have been safely done. There was no one there he would ask to risk dealing with the likes of Ward Hawkins and Tiny McGee. It wouldn’t hurt them to go without supper. He would have Lottie fix up a big breakfast for them to make up for his neglect. He said good-bye to the new operators of Mama’s Kitchen and wished them luck. Then he loaded their weapons and ammunition on one of the horses he selected from the corral to pack them on and started back to town.

  * * *

  At about the same time Will left the four new partners in the Boggy Town Hotel, as Etta had suggested calling their venture, Ward Hawkins reined his horse to a stop and held up his hand. “What’s up, Ward?” Tiny asked when he pulled up alongside him. “Whadda we stoppin’ here for? That looks like a creek or somethin’ up ahead.” He pointed to a dark image of trees ahead in the darkness.

  “We need money and supplies,” Hawkins said. “We can make camp up ahead, but we ain’t got nothin’ to cook. I ain’t ridin’ all the way to The Falls on an empty belly, and there won’t be nothin’ in that cabin when we get there.”

  “Maybe we’ll see a deer or somethin’ else to hunt,” Harley suggested, “or maybe we’ll strike a store or tradin’ post between here and the mountains.”

  “And maybe we won’t,” Hawkins replied. “There ain’t no store between here and the hideout. But I know where we can find supplies, and a coffeepot, and some money. I shoulda thought about it and gone straight to Boggy Town when we left Atoka. I’m goin’ back to get my packs and pick up Cobb and Jace. It ain’t that far back to the saloon.”

  “Hell, I thought about the money when we was at the stable, but I reckon I just started thinkin’ about headin’ for the mountains,” Tiny said. “I’ll go with you.”

  Harley and the two wagon drivers were not anxious to return to the saloon, now that it was so well known to the law. When he saw their obvious reaction to his plan, he said, “You three can go on to that creek and make camp. It won’t be long before me and Tiny get back with somethin’ to cook, maybe somethin’ to drink if they ain’t drank it all up.” That suggestion suited the other three, so they continued on to the creek in the distance. Hawkins and Tiny turned back toward the east, on a line that would take them back to Muddy Boggy Creek.

  After a ride of close to seven miles, they struck the creek a quarter of a mile downstream from Boggy Town, so they followed it upstream until they came to the burnt remains of the barn and stables. The site served to rile Tiny, since he was the one who had built it. “I hope that rat is here.” They had considered the possibility that Tanner had gone after Cobb and Jace and might still be there because he had been gone from town all day.

  “That would put the icin’ on this cake, wouldn’t it?” Hawkins replied. With that in mind, they rode slowly across the darkened barnyard toward the main building. There was no horse tied at the rail, so they rode on up to the front porch and dismounted. Being careful not to alert anyone inside, they moved up to the front window and looked to see who was in the saloon. All four of Tiny’s hired hands were there, but he didn’t see Cobb or Jace. “Looks like they’re havin’ a damn party,” Hawkins muttered.

  Still celebrating their bold venture together, Ida opened a bottle of whiskey she had hidden in the pantry. Holding it up, she started to propose a toast when she suddenly stopped in midsentence and stared glassy-eyed at the front door. When her three partners turned to see what had stopped her, there were now four glassy-eyed gawkers. Being keener of wits than the other three, Etta sang out, “Welcome home, Tiny!” Following suit, the others attempted to make a show of welcome.

  “What the hell’s the big celebration?” Hawkins demanded.

  Continuing to carry on with the farce, Etta answered, “Why, because that lawman finally left here, and we’re still alive.” She would not tell them that it had been a very short time since Will had left. And she could not help wondering how they had not bumped into each other.

  “Where’s Cobb and Jace?” Hawkins asked. “Didn’t they come back here?”

  “Tanner killed ’em,” Teddy answered him. “Tanner came here after ’em. They’re layin’ out by the kitchen steps. I’m fixin’ to bury ’em in the mornin’.”

  Hawkins and Tiny exchanged a long glance, both thinking the same thing. While they were obviously considering what to do about that last piece of news, Ida asked the question she and her partners were vitally interested in. “Are you back here to stay now?”

  “Hell, no,” Hawkins answered sharply. “This place is too hot for us now. Every lawman in Texas and Oklahoma will know about Boggy Town. As soon as we pack up some supplies and collect our possibles, we’re puttin’ this place behind us.” He cocked a sharp eye at Ida. “My saddlebags and other stuff better
be in that room I was sleepin’ in.”

  “Oh, they are, they are,” Etta answered.

  “There’s a roll of cash money in one of those pockets in my saddlebags,” Hawkins said. “I reckon that’s still there, right?”

  “Well, I don’t know if it is or not,” she replied. “We ain’t bothered none of your things. But that deputy took money outta Cobb’s and Jace’s pockets, and he went back there in the bunkhouse to look around. So he mighta found your money, too.”

  “Damn!” Hawkins cursed. “Start gatherin’ up some food,” he told Tiny, then headed toward the bunkhouse to get his personal things. When he returned with his saddlebags and a canvas sack that held his shaving things and spare clothes, he announced, “My damn money’s gone.” He stared at Etta with an accusing eye.

  “Oh my,” she said, “that is sorry news. Was it much?”

  “It was enough,” he said stony-faced.

  “I wish I’da looked in your things and beat him to it,” she said. She could feel Ida’s wide-open eyes focused on her, but she dared not look at her for fear they would give the whole farce away. Anxious to change the subject then, she asked, “If you and Tiny are fixin’ to leave here, are you wantin’ us to pack up and get ready to go with you?”

  “No, we can’t take you with us,” Hawkins said at once. “We’ll be movin’ too fast. Looks like the lot of you are gonna have to fend for yourselves. It’s tough, but that’s the way it is sometimes. Besides, we’ll be stayin’ in an outlaw camp up in the mountains. Ain’t no place for women.” He looked at Bud and Teddy, who were both watching, speechless. “Won’t have much use for a bartender or a hired hand, either.” That said, he went to the storeroom to help Tiny empty some of the shelves of flour, salt, coffee, dried beans, and anything else they thought they could turn into food.

  The four of them watched as Hawkins and Tiny carried out everything they could load on the two packhorses they had taken from Stanley Coons’s stable. It put a sizable hole in their stored supplies, but they were secure in the knowledge that they had a ready supply of cash money, courtesy of Cobb, Jace, and particularly Hawkins. Once their horses were loaded, Tiny and Hawkins wasted no more time in Boggy Town and set out to join their companions, waiting at the creek for them. “Those boys oughta be glad to see us ’cause they ain’t got nothin’ to cook,” Tiny said as he climbed up into the saddle.

  CHAPTER 13

  It was well past suppertime when he rode into town and everything looked all buttoned up for the night. The dining room next to Doug Mabry’s boardinghouse was dark and there were only a few lights burning in the boardinghouse itself. It would have been too late to pick up any food for his prisoners even if he had arrived an hour earlier. He thought to ride straight to the stables first, but glancing ahead toward the jail, he was surprised to see a jail wagon standing alongside the building. The odd thing about it was the fact that the team of horses was still hitched up to the wagon, and a saddled horse was tied to the back of it. His first thought was it must have just arrived, and that was odd, that whoever the deputy was, he had pushed on to arrive this late at night. It couldn’t be Ed, he thought, thinking he would not have had time to get back. He bypassed the stables and went directly to the jail. As he approached, he saw there were no lights inside the jail, in the front office or the cell room.

  It wasn’t until he pulled Buster to a halt and stepped down from the saddle that he noticed what appeared to be two prisoners sitting down inside the wagon. That was more than enough to alert him that something was dreadfully wrong. He reached for his Winchester and advanced cautiously toward the jail wagon. Walking past the front door of the jail, he noticed that the door was not closed but was slightly ajar, as if the last person in or out was careless about closing it. He was only a few feet from the back of the wagon when the still form sitting in the corner spoke. “Will? Is that you?”

  He recognized the voice at once. “Ed? What the hell? What are you doin’ out here? Who’s that?” he asked when the other form stirred.

  “It’s me, Horace Watson,” he answered. “They locked us in here.”

  Feeling as if he had been struck dumb, Will didn’t have to ask who had locked them in the jail wagon, and he didn’t have to ask if his prisoners were still secure inside the jail. He looked around him, halfway expecting to find himself surrounded, but there was no threat forthcoming. “All five of ’em?” he asked, simply.

  Ed nodded slowly. “All five,” he confirmed.

  “Ed, how the hell did it happen?” Then before Ed could answer, he asked, “Are you all right? How ’bout you, Horace?” He was working hard to remain calm, but he wanted details of how five prisoners locked in a secure cell room could escape and lock the arresting officer in his own jail wagon.

  Horace answered first. “We’re all right now that you finally got here,” he said. “They left us here and didn’t even tie the horses. We was afraid the horses would get spooked and take off to who knows where. I’m all right, but Ed took a bullet in the shoulder when he tried to stop ’em.”

  “How bad is it?” Will asked Ed then. “You need to see Doc Lowell.”

  “It ain’t that bad,” he said. “There ain’t no bullet in it. It just tore a rut right across my shoulder. I stuffed my bandanna over it and got the bleedin’ stopped. It’ll hold till mornin’.” He shook his head slowly, obviously reluctant to admit that he had once again been ambushed by a felon. “I swear, Will, it looks like I’m snakebit when it comes to takin’ prisoners in custody.”

  “With the pair you were dealin’ with, it could happen to anybody,” Will said, knowing how ashamed Ed felt. “How long have they been gone?”

  “Since after suppertime,” Ed answered.

  Will took hold of the padlock on the jail wagon and tried it, in case it wasn’t fully engaged. “They take the key to this lock with ’em?”

  “No,” Horace answered. “That one feller, the one they called Hawkins, he took it outta Ed’s pocket, so he could unlock it and put us in here. Then he just threw it toward the corner of the buildin’. I heard it hit the side of the buildin’.” He pointed toward the right corner.

  “Maybe I can find it,” Will said, knowing it would be hard to break them out of the wagon. “If you heard it hit the sidin’, maybe I can find it in the dirt.” He went over to where Horace had pointed. Striking a match, he looked around in the dirt by the building. After striking two more matches, he spotted it and was able to free them. Looking back to Ed, he asked, “How the hell did you get back here so fast?”

  “Dan Stone had already sent another jail wagon. We met ’em along the way and I swapped with ’em. They took the prisoners back and me and Horace came back to help you.”

  “You say you got here at suppertime?” Will asked.

  “Yep, or maybe a little after. I know that one feller was complainin’ about wantin’ to eat. Said you’d been gone since breakfast and you shoulda been back to feed ’em.” He began to recount then, starting with when they arrived and found the jail locked up with Will nowhere around. “Well, I figured we could feed ’em, so Horace got him a fire started and I went to the telegraph office to see if that Barnet fellow had another key to that building. Me bein’ a deputy, same as you, he gave me the spare keys to the outside door and the cell door, too, before he went home.

  “Horace cooked up supper and when it was ready, I went in and unlocked the door to the cell room and let one of ’em out at a time, so I could keep my gun on him the whole time. When he got his plate full, I’d walk him back to the cell and take another ’un out to get his.” He paused to shake his head, apologetically. “It went pretty well till it was time to take that big one out, the one with a wounded shoulder. He got his plate all right and was ready to go back in the cell. Right there is where I ain’t sure what happened. The big galoot musta stubbed his toe or somethin’, because before I knew it, he fell against me and pinned my arm straight out against the doorjamb. Trouble is, that was the hand I was holdin’ my
gun in, so it was stickin’ straight out there where I couldn’t pull it back. His partner was standin’ there, next one to go for his plate. All he had to do was grab the gun outta my hand. That big ox had me pinned against the jamb. I pulled the trigger, but I didn’t hit nobody. Horace come runnin’ in to help me, but it was too late. That Hawkins fellow forced my gun outta my hand in time to cock it and stop Horace in his tracks.”

  “I didn’t have no idea what was goin’ on in there til I heard the gun go off,” Horace declared. “It was too late to help Ed. That feller stuck his gun in my face and told me to back off, so I did.”

  To Will, it was like two actors giving a presentation on how not to handle dangerous prisoners, but he didn’t express that impression. “How did you get nicked on the shoulder?” he asked Ed.

  “When that big ’un finally let me off the doorjamb, I made a try to get my gun back, but Hawkins saw me come at him and he shot at me. I was lucky he missed. I don’t know why he didn’t go ahead and finish me. Didn’t wanna wake the town up, I reckon. You’da thought somebody woulda come to see what the shootin’ was about, but they didn’t. Then they locked us up in the wagon, instead of in the jail where it was warm. Acted like they thought it was kinda funny, lockin’ us in our jail wagon. One of ’em, the one that was doin’ all the bellyachin’ about missin’ supper when we first got there, told me to give you a message.” He looked at Horace for help. “What was it, Horace?”

  “He said, ‘Tell Will Tanner that Harley was sorry he weren’t here when he got back, but he decided to go out for supper. ’ ”

  Will grunted, amused, even in the face of the disastrous jailbreak. “I don’t reckon you’ve got any idea what happened after they left here.”