Buzzard's Bluff

by William W. Johnstone; J. A. Johnstone

  “I ain’t sure my partner would let me make any changes,” Ben said with a chuckle. “I’ll tell her that you and the rest of the town think she’s doin’ a good job. Now, I’d best get back down to Bowden’s place and pick up my horse.”

  * * *

  As was the usual case, the news spread throughout the little town pretty quickly. Seated at a table in the Golden Rail with a rugged-looking woman called Charlene was one of the few people in town who was unaware of it. Having been dragged out of Charlene’s bed just barely half an hour before, Elwood Moore had finally awakened to find his pockets empty of all money—paper and coin. He could not remember anything after climbing on the bed after a night of drinking, and Charlene was trying to tell him that he had simply passed out. “You just went out like a lamp, Honey,” she said. “I tried to wake you up. I wanted to make sure you got your money’s worth, but you were out cold. But you had a real good time last night. You just remember that, honey.”

  “What time is it?” he kept asking, unable to believe it was late the next morning. “I’m gonna be in a world of trouble. I was supposed to be back at the ranch before breakfast. Spade’s gonna kick my ass from here to Sunday,” he said, referring to Spade Gunter, the foreman.

  “Just tell him you ate some bad food and took sick, sugar,” Charlene said.

  “Damn,” Elwood remarked in response, even then envisioning the intimidating foreman when something triggered his temper.

  Overhearing Elwood’s lament, bartender, Mickey Dupree, said, “You ain’t the only Double-D hand that ain’t gonna make it back to the ranch this mornin’.”

  “What are you talkin’ about, Mickey?”

  “I’m talkin’ about Ed Hatcher and Marty Jackson coolin’ their behinds in Sheriff Bragg’s jailhouse,” Mickey answered.

  “You’re japin’ me now,” Elwood said.

  “Hell, I am,” Mickey came back. “While you was upstairs between the sheets this mornin’, Ed and Marty rode into town, lookin’ for that feller at the Lost Coyote that shot Bob Wills. Word is, they found him, all right, only he got the jump on ’em and hauled ’em off to jail. Mack Bragg locked ’em up. That ain’t the fun part about it. Feller was in here earlier, said he saw it. Said Ed was all tied up and refused to walk down to the jail, so that feller drug him down the street with one of their horses.”

  Elwood didn’t say anything for a long moment while his simple mind tried to grasp the idea that anybody could do that to Ed Hatcher.

  Charlene broke into his thoughts then. “There you go, honey. You can take that news back to the Double-D, so they’ll know what happened to Ed and Marty. You tell ’em you stayed around to help ’em, if they needed it.”

  Her suggestion lit a spark in his alcohol-numbed brain. “Right,” he said, then turned to Mickey again. “Was there anybody else from the Double-D in town last night?”

  “Nope,” Mickey answered. “If they was, they didn’t come in the Golden Rail.”

  “That just might save me an ass-kickin’,” Elwood said. “I gotta get goin’.” He jumped to his feet and would have fallen across the table had Charlene not been quick enough to steady him.

  “You’ll be all right, sugar,” Charlene said. “Mickey, pour him a cup of that coffee. He’s still got some cobwebs in his head.” Back to Elwood, she said, “You get back on that horse, and the fresh air will straighten you out by the time you get back to the Double-D.” She stayed with him until he downed a cup of coffee, then she walked him to the door. “You come back to see me, darlin’, when you save up some more money.” She remained there in the doorway, watching him as he struggled to climb up on his horse. Her only real sympathy was for the poor horse that had stood there at the hitching rail, saddled, all night long.

  When he had gone, she turned around and went back inside to meet a grinning bartender. “That is one messed-up cowboy,” Mickey said. “He don’t remember nothin’ past ten o’clock last night. I ain’t ever seen anybody that whiskey hits harder than ol’ Elwood.”

  Charlene laughed with him. “Every time he’d start to wake up, I’d pour him a little more outta the bottle of whiskey he bought. And I’d tell him he’d just had another ride, and he’d best try to get a little sleep. He thinks he had about four rides last night.” That brought another spell of laughing.

  * * *

  “You better have one helluva good reason why you’re just now draggin’ your behind up here to the barn this mornin’,” Spade Gunter barked as he walked out to meet Elwood. “Where the hell have you been?” He walked around the weary horse, taking note of the condition of the animal.

  “I got good reason, Spade,” Elwood implored. “I was tryin’ to help Ed and Marty. They ran into trouble with that feller that shot Bob.”

  “What kind of trouble?” Spade asked. He was well aware of the two men’s ride into town to settle up with Ben Savage. Mr. Dalton had okayed it, himself. “Did they get that damn gunslinger?”

  “No, they didn’t,” Elwood answered. “That feller turned the table on ’em and Mack Bragg locked ’em up in the jailhouse.” He shook his head sadly. “And I couldn’t find no way to help ’em, but I figured I could at least stay there till I found out they were all right in the jail.” He went on to tell Spade all the details about their capture as Mickey had related them to him. “I feel bad I couldn’t figure out a way to try to help ’em, but there was too many people helpin’ to take them into the jail. Then I got back here as quick as I could, so you’d know what happened.” When he finished his piece, he watched Spade to see how he was going to react.

  “Well, I reckon there wasn’t much you coulda done about it,” Spade said, his mind already working on how best to give Dalton the news. The boss wasn’t going to like it very much. No longer concerned by Elwood’s failure to show up for work this morning, he said, “Put your saddle on a fresh horse and get out to Crawfish Crick. Deacon’s got a crew out there gettin’ ready to move that bunch of cows over closer to the river with the main herd.”

  “Right, Spade,” Elwood responded smartly. “I’ll get right on it.” He turned the weary horse toward the horse herd, grazing south of the ranch headquarters, rode into the middle of it, and dismounted. He pulled his saddle and bridle off the horse, then shook out a loop in the rope he carried. With his head still feeling as if it had been packed with sawdust, he suffered several attempts before he succeeded in cutting out a fresh horse.

  Having been in the process of preparing to saddle a horse, himself, Spade decided he’d best go tell Mr. Dalton about the turn of events that happened in town. He could check on the men later. Dalton would want to know that some of his men were being held, so Spade walked up to the back door of the ranch house and rapped on it. He waited only a few seconds before the door opened. “I need to talk to Mr. Dalton,” he said to Maria Gomez. “Has he finished his breakfast?” Spade had met with Dalton before breakfast that morning when Ed Hatcher wanted to go into town right away to settle with the new owner of the Lost Coyote for the killing of Bob Wills.

  “Sí, Señor Gunter,” Maria answered. “He eat long time ago. He in study now. I go tell him you want to speak.” She held the door open for him, and he stepped inside to wait in the kitchen. In a few minutes, she returned to tell Spade to go into the study.

  “What is it, Spade?” Dalton asked. He was sitting at his desk, an open ledger before him. “Have you heard back from Hatcher, already?”

  “No, sir,” Spade answered. “Elwood just got back from town. He said Ed and Marty are both in jail. He said that fellow, Ben Savage, got the jump on Hatcher, and Sheriff Bragg threw Ed and Marty in jail for attempted murder.”

  “What?” Dalton exclaimed. “Attempted murder?”

  “That’s what Elwood said,” Spade answered, “or maybe it was for threatenin’ to kill Savage. Elwood said Savage dragged Ed down the middle of the street to the jailhouse.”

  “How in hell did they come up with that?” Dalton wanted to know. “Hatcher was supposed to ca
ll Savage out, man to man. Bragg can’t put him in jail for that! He wasn’t supposed to bushwhack him.”

  “I ain’t sure he tried to,” Spade said. “I think Elwood’s got the story mixed up. Maybe I oughta go into town and see if I can get the straight of it.”

  “No,” Dalton said, “I’ll go into town and talk to the sheriff. I can’t have him holding my men in jail on some cockamamie charge. I wanna know more about this new owner of the Lost Coyote, anyway. That damn woman that runs that saloon is up to something. We finally get rid of Jim Vickers and suddenly this stranger shows up.” He paused and sat there fuming for a few moments. His interest in the competition between the Golden Rail and the Lost Coyote ran deeper than the harassment of his cowhands when they were in town. Daniel Dalton was the money behind the building of that saloon, so he was protective of his investment. He had thought the competition between his saloon and the Lost Coyote was finally coming to an end when Jim Vickers’s health started to deteriorate. With a woman left to run the saloon, he figured it a matter of days before their doors would close. But the bitch held on, somehow, and then this mysterious stranger showed up. He glared at Spade and demanded, “Why wasn’t Ben Savage put in jail when he killed Bob Wills? And they throw my men in jail for challenging Savage to a duel?”

  “You want me to ride into town with you?” Spade asked. “Wouldn’t hurt to have somebody along to watch your back.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” Dalton said. “Saddle the black Morgan, and I’ll be out as soon as I change into some riding clothes.” He walked Spade to the study door and yelled, “Maria!” When the gentle Mexican woman appeared in the hallway, Dalton said, “Lay out my riding clothes, I’m going into town.”

  “Sí, señor, you want I tell the señora?”

  “No, you go ahead and lay out my clothes. I’ll tell Estelle.” He walked down the hall, past his bedroom, to his wife’s room, and went in. His wife sat in a large stuffed chair by the window, still dressed in her nightgown. “Aren’t you going to get dressed at all today?” he asked.

  “I didn’t think there was any hurry,” she answered. “So I thought I’d work on this shawl I’ve been knitting while the morning light is still coming in the window.”

  “Morning light?” he replied, impatiently. “It’s damn-near noon.” He was thinking that her ass was going to take root in that chair before long, but he didn’t express it. “I’m going into town. Don’t know how long I’ll be. Just tell Maria if you need something. She’ll take care of you.” He paused a moment, then added, “Wouldn’t hurt you if you got outside for a little while and get some fresh air.”

  “I’m fine here,” she replied. “I’ll tell Maria to make me some tea. She’s good about taking care of me.” She sure as hell takes care of you, she thought. It aggravated her that Daniel thought she didn’t know. He always blamed her for not being able to provide him with any sons. But he didn’t move out of their bedroom, and into one of his own, until she began to dry up inside. “Will you be back tonight?” Sometimes he stayed overnight in the hotel when he went into town.

  “Yeah, I’ll be back, probably for supper. I’ve just got some business to take care of, and I don’t know how long it’ll take.” He went out and closed the door behind him, then went into his room and changed into the outfit Maria had laid out on the bed for him. She was in the kitchen when he walked out the back door. “I’ll be back for supper,” he told her, as well.

  She watched him from the back window as he strode briskly across the yard toward the barn where Spade was saddling the big Morgan gelding he preferred to ride. Thinking then of the frail woman who spent so much of her life sitting in her bedroom, moving about the rest of the house only when her husband was away. He never had a kind word for her. Maria decided to make her a pot of the tea she seemed to enjoy. Maybe I can make her some of those little tea cakes she likes, Maria thought. She wished she could do more to brighten up the poor woman’s life.

  It was an hour’s ride from the Double-D headquarters to the town of Buzzard’s Bluff without pushing the horses too hard, so they arrived at the jail soon after the noon hour to find a padlock on the front door. “I reckon the sheriff ’s gone to dinner,” Spade commented.

  “I expect so,” Dalton said. “It’s time to eat something, anyway, so let’s go to the hotel to see if he’s there. I doubt if he eats at either one of the saloons.”

  “I’m pretty sure he don’t eat at the Golden Rail,” Spade said. He didn’t express it, but he was feeling fortunate to get an opportunity to eat at the hotel dining room.

  Their speculation turned out to be accurate, for they saw the sheriff sitting at a table by himself when they walked in. When Dalton started to pass the weapons table, Spade pointed it out. “Have to get rid of your shootin’ irons, or they won’t feed you, boss.” He unbuckled his gun belt and left it on the table.

  “I’m not wearing a gun belt,” Dalton said. “That doesn’t apply to me.” He straightened his coat to make sure the pocket pistol he carried was not obvious.

  Lacy James came forth to meet them. “Well, guests from the Double-D,” she greeted them with a wide smile for Dalton. “We don’t see you in town as much as we used to. Quite a coincidence, though, ’cause we’re feeding a couple of your men down at the jail.” She couldn’t resist.

  Dalton returned her smile with a smirk of his own. “We’ll ask the sheriff if we can join him,” he told Lacy.

  Having seen them come in, Bragg watched them carefully from the moment they left the weapons table and started in his direction. Damn it, he thought, why couldn’t they wait till after I’d finished? He had warned Ben Savage that there was going to be hell to pay when Dalton found out about his two men in jail, but he didn’t expect to see him show up this soon. Too bad Savage wasn’t here to meet with them, so he could do the explaining. Since Bragg remained silent, even though he had heard Dalton’s remark to Lacy, Dalton addressed him directly.

  “Mind if we sit down with you, Sheriff?” Dalton asked, but didn’t wait for Bragg’s answer before pulling a chair out and seating himself directly across from him. Spade couldn’t help grinning as he pulled a chair and sat down, too.

  “Why, no, Mr. Dalton,” Bragg answered him, “make yourself at home.”

  “Thank you,” Dalton said. “I was telling Spade, here, that as a servant of the people of Buzzard’s Bluff, the sheriff is always willing to talk about any issues that involve the citizens.” He was interrupted then when Cindy Moore came up to ask what they wanted to drink. “We’ll have coffee and what’s that the sheriff’s eating?” When she said it was roast pork, he promptly ordered the same for him and Spade. “Don’t get a chance to eat pork very often,” he commented before getting down to business. “I understand you have two of my most valuable men in your jailhouse.”

  “I got two of your men in a cell, all right,” Bragg said. “I didn’t know if they were two of your most valuable men or not. That didn’t make no difference in the matter of why they was arrested.”

  “I see,” Dalton responded calmly. “And why, exactly, were they arrested? Did they shoot anyone? Destroy any property? Attack any women?”

  “They were arrested for makin’ death threats,” Bragg answered.

  “Don’t men drinking in a saloon often make threats they don’t intend to follow through with?” Dalton insisted. “Just the liquor talking, nobody pays any attention to it.”

  “Your men weren’t drinkin’ when they made the threats,” Bragg replied. “Ed Hatcher came to town with one purpose, to kill Ben Savage. He called Savage out, but Savage wouldn’t do it, so Hatcher told him, as sober as you can get, that he was goin’ to kill him, anyway.”

  Dalton saw right away that Bragg wasn’t going to budge on his stance. He paused for a moment when Cindy brought their plates, then tried another approach. “I agree with you, Sheriff, the boys mighta shot their mouths off a little too much. So I’m suggesting you let me deal with them. How about if I take them off your h
ands and discipline them back at the ranch? Save you some trouble and save the town some money for feeding them. Whaddaya say, Sheriff?”

  Spade could readily see that Dalton’s reasonable approach was not working with Mack Bragg, so he concentrated on the plate before him, eating the pork roast as fast as he could get it down. He was only halfway through the beans and cornbread that came with the roast when Bragg answered Dalton’s request.

  “I can understand you wantin’ to get your men outta jail,” Bragg calmly answered. “But I think it’d be a good idea to let those two set and think about it for a while. I was plannin’ to keep ’em locked up only till day after tomorrow, then let ’em go with a warnin’. I don’t want no killin’ in this town.”

  “Looks to me like it’s all right to kill Double-D men and not even get arrested,” Dalton charged. “Else, Ben Savage would be locked up right now.”

  “Like I done told you,” Bragg insisted, “that was a case of pure self-defense. Your man, Bob Wills, didn’t give no warnin’ or nothin’. He just tried to shoot Savage in the back. There weren’t no question about it, and plenty of witnesses saw it.”

  Straining to control his frustration with the sheriff’s bullheaded determination, Dalton said nothing more on the release of his men. After a few long moments, he asked if he could talk to the two prisoners. Bragg agreed to that. “Sure,” he said. “you’re welcome to visit your men, as long as it’s a short visit. I’m about done here. You eat your dinner and come on down to the jail when you’re finished.” He got up from the table and walked over to a sideboard where Myrtle was filling two army mess kits with his prisoners’ dinner.

  When Lacy walked out of the kitchen, carrying a cloth-covered plate of cornbread for his prisoners, she commented, “I hope your dinner wasn’t spoiled by your eating companions.” He answered with no more than a wry smile and a shake of his head.