Buzzard's Bluff

by William W. Johnstone; J. A. Johnstone

  “I never carry more than one hundred dollars with me when I come to town,” Dalton said. “I didn’t know I was going to strike a deal with you, obviously, or I would have brought more. A hundred should show you that I’m acting in good faith and I’ll have the rest for you right here in the Golden Rail when the job is done.”

  Ramsey saw no need to haggle over an advance payment, so he didn’t hesitate to accept Dalton’s terms. “Well, Mr. Dalton,” he said with a little smile, “looks like you’re fixin’ to lose some business here. I’ll be doin’ most of my drinkin’ up at the Lost Coyote.”

  CHAPTER 22

  With absolutely no thoughts that he might now have a price on his head, Ben guided Cousin onto the south end of the main street of Buzzard’s Bluff. He had made good on his estimate that he would reach the town in the middle of the afternoon. He was tempted to see if the hotel dining room was still open, but he knew Annie would have fixed something for the noon meal back at the Coyote. So he would grab something there to hold him until suppertime when he had already promised himself a big supper that night.

  As Cousin plodded slowly up the street, Ben couldn’t help experiencing a peaceful feeling about the little town he now called home. Approaching the sheriff’s office, he felt thankful that he was not responsible for keeping law and order in Buzzard’s Bluff. He was satisfied that the town had an honest and reliable sheriff in Mack Bragg. With recent signs that Daniel Dalton had backed off his aggressive approach toward ruling the town, it appeared Buzzard’s Bluff still had the potential to grow into a thriving city. Thinking of the sheriff and his warning to him about how dangerous Billy Turner was, Ben decided he should stop in and tell Mack that the package had been delivered and locked up in the Austin jail.

  An interested party in the Golden Rail Saloon, located diagonally across the street from the sheriff’s office, stopped to stare out the window when he caught sight of the rider. “I’ll be damned,” Wilson Bishop uttered, “there’s that devil now. He’s back in town.” His immediate thought was to bring Pitt Ramsey to the window so he could get a look at the man he was being paid to kill. He turned around at once and looked back and forth across the room. Not seeing Ramsey, he yelled at Mickey. “Where the hell’s Pitt?”

  “You mean Mr. Pete Wood?” Mickey came back, using the name Pitt had given them to call him by. “I’m afraid he’s busy at the moment, upstairs with Bonnie, sowin’ some oats.” He chuckled in appreciation of his humor.

  “Damn it,” Wilson swore. “Ben Savage is back in town, and Pitt could get a look at him if he would come down here right now.” He turned to take a look at the stairs, trying to decide.

  Guessing what Wilson was thinking, Mickey informed him, “I ain’t goin’ up there to get him. You can, if you want to, but I ain’t about to disturb him right now.”

  Wilson understood Mickey’s thinking, and he was aware of a definite risk in disturbing Pitt at this particular time. Still, he thought Pitt would like to take a look at Savage. After giving it a little more thought, he decided it not worth the risk and just stood there watching as Ben guided his horse up to the jail.

  Seeing the big man on the dun gelding through the window of his office, Mack Bragg walked out to meet him. “Well, I see you got back all right,” the sheriff greeted him. “You made good time. You didn’t have to shoot him before you got there, did you?”

  “Nope,” Will replied. “We made it all the way to Austin and I turned him over to the sheriff. So I reckon that’s the last we’ll hear outta Ranger Billy Turner. How is everything goin’ back here in Buzzard’s Bluff?”

  “It’s been so quiet, it’s beginnin’ to worry me,” Bragg said and laughed. “Even the Golden Rail ain’t made much noise.” He turned serious for a moment and asked, “You reckon ol’ Daniel Dalton has finally given up on the idea of takin’ over the town? I saw him this mornin’. He was over there at his saloon—wasn’t there long before he rode on out of town.”

  “I don’t know, Mack,” Ben answered. “It doesn’t seem likely. He’s just that breed of cat, I reckon, but stranger things have happened.”

  “It could be that he’s just waitin’ till he hires more men,” Bragg speculated. “Before you came to town, there was really only three or four of his men that caused most of the trouble in town. It was always Hatcher, Wills, or Deacon that got into it with somebody here in town, or some of the ranch hands from one of the smaller spreads. But those three are gone.” He paused to give Ben a little grin. “You might know something about that. I expect he’s havin’ trouble findin’ any men right now, gunslingers or just honest ranch hands. It bein’ roundup time of year, most of those ridin’ the grub line all summer have probably signed on with somebody.”

  “You could be right,” Ben allowed. “Reckon we’ll just have to wait and see. Hell, you never know, ol’ Dalton might turn around and wanna join the city council—maybe run for mayor.”

  “That’ll be the day,” Bragg commented.

  Ben touched his finger to the brim of his hat and turned Cousin back toward the stable. He looked at the Lost Coyote as he rode slowly by, but there was no one occupying the two chairs out front. Hope there’s somebody inside buying whiskey, he thought, in fitting with his role as an owner.

  “Howdy, Ben,” Henry Barnes called out from the corner of the corral where he was pumping water into the watering trough. “Glad to see you got back all right. Have any trouble?”

  “Nothin’ to speak of,” Ben replied. “Everything all right with you?”

  “Ain’t had nothin’ to complain about all week,” Henry confessed. “Somethin’ terrible must be gettin’ ready to happen.”

  Ben pulled Cousin’s saddle and bridle off and released the dun gelding into the corral while Henry relieved the packhorse of its burden. “They haven’t had anything but grass for a couple of days,” Ben said, “so they’d most likely appreciate some oats.”

  “I’ll take care of ’em,” Henry said. He helped Ben carry the remaining supplies from the Austin trip into the barn. Since the packs and the horse, too, had been the property of Billy Turner, Ben told Henry to look through the packs, and he was welcome to anything he wanted. Telling him he’d see him later, Ben took his rifle and saddlebags and walked to the Lost Coyote.

  * * *

  “Well, welcome home, partner,” Rachel greeted him when he walked in the door of the saloon. “There’s a fresh pot of coffee on the stove, and Annie’s got some ham biscuits and beans still warm in the oven. She made a second batch of biscuits because she said you’d be here, but you’d most likely be a little after everybody else ate. So you’d better not tell her you ate before you came here, if you did.”

  “No, I didn’t eat.” He laughed. “I thought Annie might have something left, so I came straight here after I took care of the horses. How’d she know I’d show up today?”

  “Beats me,” Rachael said. “Annie just knows things like that. I’ve quit trying to figure her out. She walked in here a little while ago and said she just put a fresh pot of coffee on because you’d probably show up pretty quick. It wasn’t five minutes later when Clarice looked out the window and saw you taking your horse to the stable.” When Ben reacted with a look of disbelief, Rachel asked, “Am I lying, Tiny?”

  “She’s tellin’ the truth,” Tiny said. “That ain’t no lie.” The oversized bartender grinned and nodded. Ben looked from Tiny to Clarice, who nodded, as well.

  Ben decided to let the subject lay. Annie was kind of spooky, anyway. “Well, I’m ready to help her get rid of some of that food and coffee,” he said, “just as soon as I dump this stuff in my room.” He went out the back door to the hallway and would have bumped into Annie if she had not backed away from the door. She was carrying a tray with his food on it. “Oh, sorry, Annie, I almost lost my dinner, didn’t I?”

  “That’s all right,” she replied, “I knew you were comin’ in the hall.”

  Astonished by her reply, after just hearing Rachel say Annie jus
t knew when things were going to happen, he had to ask, “How did you know I was coming into the hall?”

  Matching his look of astonishment with one of her own, she said, “When I saw the door opening.”

  “Right,” he said, feeling a little foolish, “that would give it away, all right. I’ll be right back to eat that,” he said then, holding the door for her.

  * * *

  Before he had finished his dinner, Tuck Tucker and Ham Greeley came into the saloon. As expected, Tuck was quick to sit down at the table with Ben, seeking a full report on the transport of Billy Turner. “Did he give you any trouble?” Tuck wanted to know. “I shoulda gone with you,” he said. “You’re lucky that sidewinder didn’t get the jump on you.”

  “Yeah, I reckon I was,” Ben replied, satisfied to let it go at that.

  “Well, here’s a piece of news, you’ll be interested to hear,” Tuck announced. “I know where we can find Marty Jackson and Shorty Dove.” That seemed to spark Ben’s interest, so Tuck told him about the visit Ruby had just had with Jimmy Whitley. When he had finished, he asked, “Whaddaya thinkin’ we oughta be doin’ about it?”

  “I don’t plan on doin’ anything about it,” Ben answered. “They’ve both run from here. If they show up here again, then I’ll do something about it. I’m satisfied they’re gone.”

  Completely surprised by Ben’s reaction, Tuck stammered, “But one of ’em shot me!”

  “I know, Tuck, but look at it this way, he was tryin’ to shoot me. He didn’t mean you no harm. I’m willin’ to let him get by with takin’ a shot at me. I expect you’re man enough to forget about it, too.”

  They were interrupted then when Annie came back in to announce she was going home. “The kitchen’s pretty much cleaned up. There’s coffee still in the pot, if you want some and I put what’s left of the biscuits in the oven. Anything else you want me to do before I go?”

  “No, Annie,” Rachel answered. “You’ve already done more than we would expect, just so Ben would have something to eat when he got here.”

  “That’s right, Annie,” Ben quickly spoke up. “I surely did enjoy those biscuits. I appreciate it.” He looked past her then to see if Johnny Grey was there, but when he didn’t see him, he asked, “Is Johnny comin’ to pick you up?”

  “No, sir,” Annie answered. “Everything’s been so peaceful for a while now, that I told Johnny not to bother quittin’ work just to take me home. It ain’t but a mile and a half, and I enjoy the walk.”

  “I’m not doin’ anything right now,” Ben volunteered. “I’d be glad to walk you home. A little walk might do me some good.” It wasn’t even close to dark yet, but he still felt like she should have some kind of escort.

  “Oh, no, sir, I wouldn’t make you do that. It ain’t that far, and it’s broad daylight right now.”

  Then he had an idea. “Can you ride a horse?”

  Annie laughed. “Yes, sir, I can ride a horse, but I ain’t got one. That is, we’ve got two horses, but Johnny uses both of ’em on the farm.”

  Ben thought about Billy Turner’s packhorse. “I’ll tell you what, I find myself with an extra horse on my hands, and I’ve been wonderin’ what I was gonna do with him. He’s a gentle little sorrel geldin’ that I used for a packhorse when I went to Austin last week. That little horse would be just right for you.” He looked over at Tuck then. “I’ll bet Tuck’s got a saddle in his shop that’d be the right size for a lady like you. Is that right, Tuck?” He gave his dwarflike friend a stern eye.

  Understanding his message, Tuck said, “Why, I sure do. I know just the one and a bridle to go with it.”

  Dumbfounded, for it was coming at her too fast, Annie didn’t know what to say. She looked at Rachel for help, then back at Ben before she managed to speak. “I ain’t got no money to pay for a bridle and saddle.”

  “Who said anything about money?” Tuck asked, fully in accord with the gesture now. He glanced at Ben, who was grinning back at him. “It’ll take me a little while to dig it outta my storeroom. What about if I have ’em ready for you tomorrow by the time you’re ready to head for home?”

  Completely astonished by then, Annie found it impossible to respond, so Ben spoke for her. “That oughta work out all right, don’tcha think, Annie?” She still could find no words. “Then you’ll be ready this time tomorrow to ride home, and today I’ll walk you home,” Ben continued. They were all caught up in the generous contribution to Annie’s transportation needs, and Ben was telling Annie how she could keep her horse out back of the saloon where it could graze as they walked out the door. “There’s a lot of grass out back, and we can tie him on a long-enough rope so he can reach the creek.”

  * * *

  By the time Ben returned, the usual regular customers were beginning to wander into the saloon. Among them was a tall slender stranger wearing a black derby hat tilted slightly forward on his forehead. He stood at the bar and watched the other patrons while he tossed a drink of whiskey back. He tapped the empty glass on the bar a couple of times to get Tiny’s attention. “You ready for another’n?” Tiny asked. Ramsey nodded. “First time in here,” Tiny said as he poured his drink. “First time in Buzzard’s Bluff?”

  “That’s right,” Ramsey replied, “first time.”

  One look at the vest and morning coat the stranger wore told Tiny that the man was not a settler or a cowhand. The Colt six-gun resting in the quick-draw holster told him even more, and he wondered if the man had intended to visit the Golden Rail and not the Lost Coyote. “Well, welcome to Buzzard’s Bluff,” Tiny said. “You gonna be with us a while, or are you just passin’ through?”

  “Ain’t decided yet,” Ramsey answered. “Depends on what I find here and whether or not I can strike a good card game.”

  Tiny noticed the stranger was eyeing a table in the back where Tuck, Ham, and Jim Bowden were playing cards. And it occurred to him that the man was most likely a professional gambler. “Those three fellers back there playin’ cards,” he felt the need to say, “ain’t big-money gamblers. They just have a little friendly game to pass the time.”

  Ramsey smiled at him. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that,” he said. “I might join ’em.” He stuck out his hand. “My name’s Pete Wood.”

  “Tiny Davis,” he returned. “If you’re really thinkin’ about playin’ with those fellers, I’ll introduce you, if you want me to.”

  “That would be a right friendly thing to do. I’ll take you up on that. Might as well get off to a good start.” He picked up the drink Tiny had just poured and followed him back to the table.

  “Got a feller here who’s new in town,” Tiny said in introduction. “He’d like to join in the game, if you don’t mind.”

  “Sure,” Tuck said at once without waiting for Ham or Jim to comment, “long as you know we set a bet limit. Ain’t none of us millionaires.”

  “Don’t matter to me if it’s penny-ante,” Ramsey said. “Poker’s poker, whatever the stakes are. I’d be pleased to take some of you fellers’ pocket money.”

  “Uh-oh!” Ham said, “we better watch out. Have a seat, stranger.” Ramsey sat down and introduced himself as Pete Wood. Tuck identified each of them and the game was on.

  It was not long after that when Ben returned from his walk with Annie. Seeing the usual card game at the back table, he figured he had some explaining to do to Tuck, so he went back to the game. He couldn’t help being curious about the fellow in the black derby hat, but he thought he’d ask Tiny about him later. “I don’t want to interrupt the game, but I need to tell you something, Tuck. Just wanted to let you know, I don’t expect you to give away a saddle and bridle for nothin’. I’ll pay you for her tack.”

  “I figured you’d tell me that,” Tuck said. “We’ll talk about it after ’while. I’m busy takin’ these fellers’ money right now.”

  After Ben walked away, Ramsey asked, “Who’s the big feller?”

  “That’s Ben Savage,” Jim answered him. “He’s one of the
co-owners of the saloon.”

  Ramsey turned in his chair and took a good look at him as he walked back to the bar. His initial thought was what a big target he was. He liked what he saw, because a big man was ordinarily slower in his reflexes. And he was wearing a six-gun, which would indicate he wouldn’t hesitate to use it. Perfect, he thought. He turned his attention back to the card game and thoughts about how he was going to stage the shooting, so it wouldn’t appear to be planned. “You boys play here every day?”

  “Usually five days a week,” Ham replied. “I expect we’ll play tomorrow, won’t we, Tuck?” Tuck said he planned on it.

  Good, Ramsey thought. He stayed there until close to suppertime, playing the cards that were dealt, and when they decided it time to be thinking about supper, they quit with all four committing to resume the game the next day at the same time. Ramsey thanked them for inviting him back, saying he was going to recover the small loss he had suffered.

  “I was just takin’ it easy on you today,” Tuck boasted. “Tomorrow, I’m gonna clean you all out.”

  “I reckon we’ll just have to see about that,” Ramsey came back in kind. You’re gonna be my trigger, he thought as he grinned at the little red-haired gnome. He took a closer look at Ben when he walked by the bar on his way to the door and gave Tiny a nod of his head.

  “Who’s the stranger?” Ben asked Tiny after Ramsey had left.

  “Fellow by the name of Pete Wood,” Tiny replied. “Looks like a big-time gambler or somethin’, don’t he? But he just got in that little poker game with Tuck and the boys. No trouble, seemed to have a good time.”

  He had that look, all right, Ben was thinking. But he also had the look of a gunslinger. “Is he just passin’ through town?” Tiny said that he was. “Where’s he stayin’?” He wondered if it might be at the Golden Rail.

  “I don’t know,” Tiny answered. “Maybe at the hotel?”

  “Maybe,” Ben replied. After twelve years as a lawman, he thought he saw signs of a dangerous breed of outlaw. He wondered if Mack Bragg might have paper on somebody by that name, even considering odds that Pete Wood was an alias.