The Western Adventures of Cade McCall Box Set

by Robert Vaughan

“From your lips to God’s ear,” Billingsly replied.

  The two men had been in the press room when they heard a shot from the front of the office. Hurrying to the sound, they saw Deputy Tisdale standing there holding a smoking pistol in his hand. Paul Lovelace was on the floor with a hole in his chest. The ubiquitous apron now had more blood than ink.

  “Paul! Paul!” Billingsly shouted kneeling beside the man who had worked with him for so long.

  “Mr. Billingsly, I’m glad you . . .”

  Whatever Lovelace planned to say died with him, as he took his last, rattling breath.

  “Tisdale! What did you do?” Billingsly shouted in anguish and anger. “This was murder!”

  “No it warn’t. I shot ‘im for not obeyin’ an order. Same as when I shot that drover.”

  “What order did Mr. Lovelace disobey?”

  “I ordered him not to print no more newspapers, ‘n he said he was workin’ for you again, ‘n he would put together as many newspapers as you wanted to print. The colonel told me to make sure the paper don’t get printed no more, ‘n I figure now that there ain’t nobody to put the thing together, there won’t be no more paper.” Arrogantly, confidently, Tisdale put the gun back in its holster.

  “You figured wrong. I intend to buy back this newspaper and when I get it back, I’ll be Dobson’s worst nightmare.”

  Tisdale’s mouth spread into an evil smile. “No you won’t,” he said. “On account if you don’t leave here now, you’ll join your friend on the floor.”

  “I’m not armed,” Billingsly said.

  The evil smile grew broader. “Yeah? Well, that didn’t stop me from shootin’ Lovelace, did it?”

  “I don’t know if you noticed, Tisdale, but I am armed,” Cade said, speaking for the first time. He was standing by the door that led back into the press room.

  “Yeah, you are, ain’t you?” Tisdale said. “You wantin’ to take me on, do you, cowboy?”

  “I will if I have to. The boy you killed was a friend of mine. Mr. Lovelace was a friend of Mr. Billingsly, and Mr. Billingsly is a friend of mine. I don’t intend to just stand here and . . .”

  Without warning, Tisdale drew his gun and fired at Cade. Cade’s first reaction at seeing Tisdale go for his gun was not to draw, but to twist his body out of the way, denying Tisdale a target.

  The bullet from Tisdale’s gun slammed into the doorframe just behind where Cade had been standing but an instant earlier. By now Cade had his own pistol drawn, and even as he was drawing his gun, he could recall the words of Rufus:

  “Here’s your first lesson. It isn’t who shoots first; it is who hits what he is shooting at first.”

  Cade squeezed the trigger and felt the gun buck in his hand. A puff of dust erupted from Tisdale’s dirty shirt where the bullet hit. The deputy’s eyes grew wide in shock and he cupped his hand over the bullet wound, then pulled it away to see it filling with blood.

  “I’ll be damn.”

  Those were his last words as he fell back through the door and on to the boardwalk in front of the newspaper office.

  Word of Tisdale being killed spread quickly through the town and within moments more than a score of people were gathered around Tisdale’s body including two of the deputies.

  “Who shot this man?” one of the deputies asked.

  “I did,” Billingsly said.

  “No, I did,” Cade said.

  “I did!” one of the townspeople said.

  “No, I did!” another said, and soon more than a dozen men “confessed” to being the one who shot Tisdale.

  Frustrated, the deputies left, their retreat followed by the derisive laughter of those who had gathered around the newspaper office.

  Not until the undertaker had claimed the bodies of both Paul Lovelace and Ron Tisdale did the crowd in front of the newspaper office disperse.

  Cade left as well, and joined Jeter, Boo, and Rufus at Trail’s End. The four of them were now the only LP riders left in town, Campbell, Unger, and the others having returned to the bedding ground. A couple citizens of the town who had been part of the gathering outside the newspaper office, earlier were also customers at the saloon. The two deputies who had been at the scene of the shooting were there as well, and they were sitting together at a table in the back corner, glaring at Cade and the others.

  “Hey, you,” one of the deputies called to Cade. “You’re one of them who said you kilt Tisdale, ain’t you?”

  Cade turned toward the two deputies.

  “It was you that actual done it, wasn’t it? I mean all those other’n said it was them, but I know it was you.”

  “You’re presence isn’t welcome here,” Cade said. “I think you two men need to find some other place to be.”

  “Colonel Dobson told us to stay here,” one of them replied.

  “I’m telling you to leave. And you might have noticed that I’m here and Dobson isn’t.”

  The two men looked at each other for a moment, then got up and left the saloon.

  Bessie June had been standing with one of the other girls, at the far end of the bar. “Well now,” she said with a big smile. “Hodge, you are about to see something that’s never happened before. Instead of a customer buying a bar girl a drink, this bar girl wants to buy a customer a drink. Give that handsome gentleman with the rusty hair a drink on me.”

  “I’m much obliged to you, ma’am,” Cade replied.

  “Are you the one who talked Billingsly into printing that paper?” the bartender asked as he poured a new drink for Cade.

  “No, Mr. Billingsly came up with that idea all by himself.”

  “I’ll bet he don’t have no idea of what all he has stirred up,” the bartender said. “I’ve heard talk. I think folks are about ready to throw Dobson and his men out of town.”

  Crites had just stepped out of the Hog Waller Saloon when he saw the two deputies leave the Trail’s End. Curious as to why they would leave before he told them to, he crossed the street and looked over the top of the batwing doors.

  “I’ll be damn,” he said under his breath. “It is Slade.”

  “He run us out of the saloon,” one of the two deputies said.

  “Who ran you out?” Dobson asked.

  “The feller that kilt Tisdale. Only it warn’t just him, they was four of ‘em. We didn’t have no choice, Colonel.”

  “You were smart to leave when you did,” Crites said. “Rufus Slade was with them.”

  “That’s the second time you’ve mentioned that name, Rufus Slade,” Dobson said. “Do you know him?”

  “Yeah, I know him,” Crites said. “Me ‘n him used to work together some.”

  “You worked together? What kind of work?”

  “The same kind of work I’m doin’ now,” Crites said.

  “And you think this Rufus Slade who is a drover for the LP is the same man?”

  “I know he is the same man,” Crites said. “I seen ‘im.”

  “Is he good with a gun?”

  “He’s damn good.”

  “All right, take these two men with you,” Dobson said. “Get rifles, and the three of you get up on top of the Hog Waller. When those four men come out, shoot them down.”

  “No,” Crites said. “That damn newspaper article has got ever’ one in town all riled up ‘n if we do somethin’ like that, it will only make matters worse.”

  “Well, what do you suggest?”

  “Rufus Slade is the best they’ve got,” Crites said. “I’m goin’ to call ‘im out. If the people see me shoot him down in the street, fair and square, it’ll take all the sand out of ‘em.”

  “Can you beat him?”

  “I can beat ‘im.”

  “All right, I can see that,” Dobson said. “But after you kill Slade, I want you to kill Cade McCall.”

  “McCall ain’t nobody I’ve ever heard of, so he can’t be that much of a threat. Tisdale wasn’t all that good, and when McCall killed him, he just got lucky.”

  “Never
theless, I want Cade McCall dead.”

  25

  RUFUS SAW CRITES in the mirror the moment the chief of Dobson’s private police pushed through the batwing doors.

  “Hello, Enos,” he said calmly. He didn’t turn around.

  “Rufus,” Crites replied just as calmly.

  “It’s been a long time,” Rufus said. “Where was it? El Paso? Corpus Christi?”

  “Laredo,” Crites said.

  “Oh, yes, Laredo. You sold your gun to a man named Fentress, as I recall.”

  “He paid more.”

  “He was on the wrong side,” Rufus said.

  “There are no sides. There’s just money.”

  Rufus turned away from the bar to face Crites. “Where are we going to do this?” he asked.

  “Outside, in the street,” Crites said. “Your friend there has got folks to thinkin’ maybe they don’t need the services the colonel provides them. I’m goin’ to kill you in front of the whole town to show them they’re wrong.”

  “Are you insane?” Cade asked. “You can’t just come in here and say you are going to kill someone.”

  “Are you Cade McCall?” Crites asked.

  “Yes.”

  Crites smiled. “You’re next. I don’t know why, but the colonel particularly wants you dead.”

  “There won’t be a next time for you, Enos,” Rufus said.

  Crites chuckled. “You always did like to make your man wonder if he would be good enough. None of ‘em have been, before now. I’m good enough.”

  Crites turned and left the saloon.

  “You’re not really going out there to face him are you?” Jeter asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Look, Rufus, I know you’re good, I seen that with Shardeen,” Jeter said. “But you hung up your gun a long time ago ‘n Crites never did, he’s been using his gun all along. Don’t you think you might be a bit rusty?”

  Rufus smiled. “You can buy me a drink after it’s over.”

  “I’m going out first, just to make certain he isn’t planning to shoot you as soon as you come through the door,” Cade said.

  “Yeah, I’m coming with you,” Jeter said.

  “Me too,” Boo added.

  When the men went outside, they saw Crites standing in the middle of Texas Street. They also saw several men from the town on the boardwalks on either side of the street. Many of the townspeople were armed.

  Rufus walked out into the street and took up a position about twenty yards from Crites.

  “We had some good times together,” Crites said.

  “Yes, we did.”

  “But I always knew I was better than you.”

  Rufus turned in such a way as to present himself to Crites in profile. “Prove it,” he said.

  Crites pulled his pistol so fast that Cade couldn’t even follow it. There was a jerk of his shoulder and the gun was in his hand. Cade’s eyes had been on Crites, rather than Rufus, so he missed the fact that Rufus’s draw had been even faster, he fired first.

  Crites caught the ball high in his chest. He fired his own gun then, but it was just a convulsive action and the bullet went into the dirt, just before he dropped his gun and slapped his hand over his wound. He looked down in surprise as blood squirted through his fingers, turning his shirt bright red. He took two staggering steps toward Rufus, then fell to his knees. He looked up at Rufus.

  “How’d you do that?” he asked in surprise. “How’d you get your gun out that fast?” He smiled, then coughed, and flecks of blood came from his mouth. He breathed hard a couple of times. “I was sure I was faster than you.”

  “Looks like you were wrong,” Rufus said, easily.

  Crites fell face down into the street. That was when Cade saw a man on the roof of the Hog Waller. The man was pointing a rifle at Rufus.

  “Rufus, look out!” Cade shouted, but even as he was calling the warning, he drew his own gun and fired. The would be assassin dropped his rifle, clasped his hands over his belly, then fell from the roof.

  Immediately after that, several other shots were exchanged as both townspeople and deputies scrambled to find cover.

  Rufus, who had faced Crites without a wound went down under the gunfire.

  “Rufus!” Cade yelled, running toward him. Bullets zipped by him, kicking up dirt in the street.

  “You were faster than Crites. I thought you said fast didn’t matter.”

  “Sometimes it does,” Rufus replied. He coughed, and blood appeared in the corner of his mouth.

  Another bullet hit the street near them.

  “Here endeth the lesson,” Rufus said. “Get out of the street.”

  Now the bullets were flying by so close that Cade could hear them pop as they whipped by his ear. The level of gunfire reminded him of some of the battles he had been in during the war.

  Cade left Rufus then, and running out of the street dived behind a watering trough. He saw a deputy step around the corner of a building and take aim at Rufus. Cade fired first, and the deputy went down.

  The gun battle was taking place between Cade, Jeter, and Boo, who were now joined by at least a dozen citizens of the town, in opposition to every one of Dobson’s deputies. For the first several minutes the firing was heavy and the battle intense. Then as attrition took its toll among the deputies, it became obvious that the deputies were losing the fight.

  The only deputies still alive were in the livery barn and during a pause in the shooting, a rifle with a white cloth attached to the barrel, appeared at the door.

  “Stop your shootin’! We give up! We give up!”

  “Come on out, Parker, and bring all your friends with you!” Billingsly called. “Hands in the air, all of you!”

  Twelve men, all twelve with their hands up, came out of the barn.

  “Where are the others?” someone asked.

  “They’re dead,” Parker replied. “You done kilt ‘em all except for us.”

  “Where are your horses?” Billingsly asked.

  “They’re back in the barn.”

  “Pete, you and some of the others go back to the barn with them to make certain they don’t pick up their guns again, then put them on their horses and get them out of here. Parker?”

  “Yeah?”

  “If we ever see you, or anyone else from your motley crew, we will hold a trial, and then we will hang you. Have I made myself clear?” Billingsly asked.

  “What about Dobson?” Parker asked.

  “Don’t you worry about Dobson. We’ll take care of him.”

  All during the exchange between Billingsly and Parker, Cade was on his knees beside Rufus’s prostrate form. Jeter and Boo were with him.

  “How is Mr. Slade?” Billingsly asked Cade.

  “He’s dead,” Cade replied.

  Billingsly and Cade didn’t knock; they just pushed the door open and went in. Dobson was taking money from the safe and putting it in a leather satchel. His back was to the door so neither Billingsly nor Cade could see the expression on his face.

  “You’re through, Dobson,” Billingsly said.

  “I’m leaving town,” Dobson replied. He had not yet turned around.

  There was something about Dobson that seemed familiar to Cade, and when he spoke, it was a voice he had heard before.

  Dobson turned around then and seeing him, Cade gasped in surprise.

  “Albert Dolan!”

  “Hello, Cade,” Dolan said. “How is my old friend from the Quad?”

  “You know Colonel Dobson?” Billingsly asked.

  “This man isn’t a colonel and he never was. He was a private in the 33rd Tennessee, and a prisoner of war in the Yankee Prison at Camp Douglas. And, he is a traitor. He betrayed the rest of us, and he got a close friend killed.”

  “He isn’t a Union colonel? That means this whole thing has been a lie from the very start, hasn’t it?” Billingsly asked.

  Dolan laughed, a shrill, mocking laugh. “As soon as I got here I saw that you people didn’t like
Rebs, so I decided to be a blue belly, and not just any blue belly, but a colonel. You Yankee bastards were so easy to fool.”

  “You know who we like even less? We have absolutely no regard for someone who is a coward and who would betray his own, even if the ones you betrayed were Confederates.”

  “What will happen to me now?” Dolan asked.

  “Even though, at the moment we don’t have the legal authority to do so, I think we’ll convene a special court, just for you,” Billingsly said. “But then, legal authority has never meant anything to you, has it? I’m not sure what the outcome of the trial will be, but I can tell you right now that all that money you have taken will go back to the city. Maybe we can use it to support a real city government and a real city marshal.”

  “Does the town have a jail?” Cade asked.

  “No, but Mrs. Rittenhouse has a root cellar. We can hold him there until the trial starts. But I expect that after the trial we’ll hang him, so havin’ a jail won’t be all that important.”

  “You know, Cade, my old friend, I have a feeling that you are responsible for all this.”

  “I am not your friend,” Cade said.

  “Here’s the money, Cade. I’ll let you be the hero,” Dolan said, handing the satchel over.

  As cade reached for the satchel, a Derringer suddenly appeared in Dolan’s hand.

  “Cade, he has a gun!”

  Cade shoved the satchel back toward Dolan and, taking advantage of his disorientation, drew his own pistol and fired. Both Dolan’s Derringer and the money bag fell to the floor.

  “You . . . you’ve killed me,” Dolan said.

  “And just when everything was going so well for you,” Cade said, stepping back as Dolan collapsed.

  Eighteen men had started north with Colonel Puckett, fifteen men were going back to Texas. Except for Old Rudy and Blaze, the two guide steers, they had no cattle to deal with, so the trip back was considerably faster than the trip up had been, the outfit returning to Jackson county within twenty days.

  Once they were back home Puckett gave a bonus to the men who had signed on only for the drive, and gave a week off to the men who were his full time cowboys. He invited Cade and Jeter into his library, telling them that he would like to have a few words with them.