The stoic woman replied with nothing more than a grunt. It was Will’s opinion that Lyla’s decision to take a shot at him was not an act of devotion toward Ike. It was more an attempt to avoid growing old in her father’s cabin. In view of her past indiscretions and unfortunate physical appearance, she was desperate to go with any male who would have her. In spite of what she had done, he felt sorry for her.
* * *
The sun was already about to drop below the far hills west of Atoka when Will and his prisoners entered the clearing on Muddy Boggy Creek where Jim Little Eagle had built his cabin. Will called out and identified himself before approaching the cabin. A moment later, Jim, carrying a lantern and his rifle, walked out of the barn. “That you, Will? I wondered who was coming to call this late in the day. Who’s that with you?”
Will rode on in and reined Buster to a halt beside the Choctaw policeman. “I’ve got a couple of prisoners I’m transportin’ to jail. Sorry to be ridin’ in on you so late, but if you don’t mind, I’ll camp here on the creek tonight.”
Jim walked back, holding his lantern up to get a better look at the prisoners. When he got to Lyla, he held the lantern up a little longer. Walking back beside Will’s horse, he commented, “One of them is a woman. One of our people?”
“Chickasaw,” Will replied. “I was thinkin’ about turnin’ her over to you, her being an Indian. Figured it was more under your jurisdiction. I’ll take Ike back to Fort Smith for trial.”
“What did she do?” Jim asked, and took a second look at the sullen woman.
“Not much, really,” Will said. “Took a shot at me and that’s really the only reason I arrested her.” He went on then to tell Jim the whole story.
Jim turned his gaze back on Ike then. “So this is the man that stuck a .44 in Sam Barnet’s face and rode off with twenty-two dollars.”
“That’s the man,” Will replied. “Twenty-two dollars, huh? Is that all he got?”
They both looked at Ike then, and Jim said, “Yeah, Sam just gave him the little bit in the cash drawer. He said the safe was sitting there with the door open and about twenty-five hundred dollars in it, but your man was in a hurry to run.” Ike hung his head, embarrassed upon hearing of his folly. Back to the other issue, Jim said he could put Lyla in jail, since there was no one presently occupying the small building that passed for the Atoka jail. She would be held there until the council could meet to decide her sentence. “Are you charging her with attempted murder?” Jim asked Will.
Lowering his voice to keep Ike and Lyla from hearing, Will said, “I really don’t wanna charge her with anything. I’d just like you to keep her till I can get away from here in the mornin’ and not worry about her maybe taking another shot at me. Keep her a day, then turn her loose and tell her to go on home.”
Jim nodded slowly. “I can do that.” He smiled and said, “You’re getting a little softhearted. Maybe you’ve been in this business too long.” That reminded him of another subject. “Ed Pine was over here a week ago. He said you were going to get married. Any truth to that?”
“That’s a fact,” Will answered. “I finally got up the nerve to ask her and damned if she didn’t say she would.”
“Good for you,” Jim said, beaming at Will’s sudden blush. “Mary will want to know this. She said you’d never get married. You’re gone all the time. Not many women like that.” When Will shrugged, Jim went on, “Maybe you hang up your guns and settle down on that ranch you own in Texas.”
“Maybe. At least I’m thinkin’ about it. I ain’t even sure she’d like it there in Texas.”
“When’s the wedding?” Jim asked.
“To tell you the truth, I don’t know. She and her mama are makin’ a lotta fuss about planning a big weddin’. Her mama wants to have it around Christmas. I don’t care, myself. I’d just as soon jump a broom and be done with it.”
“Christmas?” Jim responded. “That’s almost five months away.”
“Yeah,” Will acknowledged with a chuckle. “I think her mama’s hopin’ Sophie will change her mind before Christmas.” He shrugged and said, “I’d best get my prisoners camped and comfortable. I’ll bed ’em down in that same spot I used before.”
“Who are you talking to out here?” The voice came from the cabin, followed a few seconds later by the appearance of Mary Light Walker. Seeing Will, she answered her own question. “I thought it must be you, Will, so I mixed up some more biscuits. I just put them in the oven. They oughta be ready by the time you set up your camp.”
“Howdy, Mary,” Will greeted her. “I apologize for showin’ up so late in the evenin’. I didn’t expect to bother you with fixin’ any food for me and my prisoners.”
“You never were a good liar, Will Tanner,” Mary replied. “Go ahead and take care of your prisoners. Hurry up, or those biscuits will be cold.” As her husband had done, she took a second look at Lyla, but made no comment.
“We can lock the woman up in the smokehouse,” Jim volunteered. Will had hoped he would. It would not be the first time they had used the smokehouse this way, and it would make it a lot easier on Will. It was a great deal more trouble to take care of a female prisoner, and even greater trouble to have to tend to a male and female. As they had done before, a blanket and a pallet were placed in the smokehouse for Lyla’s comfort, as well as a bucket for her convenience. After she was locked inside the smokehouse, Will made his camp by the creek, secured Ike to a tree, and took care of the horses. Even though Will insisted he would take care of feeding his prisoners, Mary fixed extra ham and biscuits for them. She was happy to do it because, during the time she and Jim had known Will, they had always been the recipients of his generous sharing of any spoils confiscated as a result of arrests and captures.
After everyone had finished supper, Will said good night to his friends and returned to his camp and his prisoner. “I’m damn glad you showed up again,” Ike greeted him when he returned. “I gotta get rid of that coffee I drank, and I can’t do nothin’ with my hands locked around this tree.” After that was taken care of, Will sat him down at the tree again, locked his hands, and tied his feet around the tree as well.
When Jim Little Eagle got up the next morning, Will had already gone. He checked on his prisoner in the smokehouse and decided the Chickasaw woman had passed the night peacefully, for she was fast asleep. She was awake when he returned with Mary and her breakfast. “What will you do with me?” Lyla asked.
“Will said he wouldn’t make any charges if you promise to go back home and behave yourself,” Jim told her. She promptly agreed to do so, but Jim kept her in the smokehouse until afternoon before releasing her.
Chapter 2
As he had figured, it took three days to ride from Atoka to Fort Smith and Will rode straight to the courthouse with his prisoner. Ron Horner, the night jailer, met him at the jail under the courthouse. “Whatcha got there, Will?” Ron greeted him.
“Got another guest for your hotel,” Will answered. “This is Mr. Ike Skinner. He’s stayed here before. I hope he ain’t too late for supper.”
“He’s just in time,” Ron said. “They’re just gettin’ ready to serve it. I’ll go ahead and check him in. What’s he in for?”
“Robbery,” Will answered. “He won’t cause you any trouble. He ain’t mean, he just makes some bad decisions.” He stood there until Ron led Ike inside and closed the door behind him. He shook his head and sighed. He couldn’t help feeling a measure of compassion for the simple soul who was Ike Skinner. He’s probably better off locked up, he thought. Then he rode down to Vern Tuttle’s stable to leave the horses, and he left his saddle and packsaddle there as well. After a short conversation with Vern, he took his rifle and saddlebags and headed back to the courthouse to see if he could catch his boss before he went home for supper.
* * *
“You’re just the man I want to see right now,” U.S. Marshal Daniel Stone declared when Will walked into his office. “When did you get in?”
&
nbsp; “About a half hour ago,” Will said. “I brought Ike Skinner in.”
“Good,” Stone said, then quickly changed the subject, obviously not interested in details of the arrest of Ike. “I might need to send you out again right away, but I won’t be sure till I hear something more from the marshal’s office in Missouri. How soon can you be ready to ride? I know you just got in and you’d probably like to catch a few days in town.”
“Well, I’d like to rest my horse,” Will said. “In the mornin’, I reckon.”
Stone couldn’t help but laugh. “That long, huh? Tell you what, come back tomorrow morning and maybe I’ll know if we’re gonna be called on to help the Missouri office out.”
* * *
There were a lot of thoughts running through Will’s mind as he walked toward Bennett House, as Ruth liked to call her boardinghouse. Most of these thoughts circled around Ruth’s daughter, Sophie, and the fact that he never seemed to be in town for any length of time. He had not been around for any of the wedding plans, a fact that made him just as happy, but it seemed to irritate Sophie more and more. He had always thought that planning a wedding was usually the bride’s job, with little or no help from the groom. He figured he was like most men, preferring to just have a preacher tie the knot and be done with it.
Walking past the Morning Glory Saloon, he paused and looked at his watch. They would most likely be finished with supper at the boardinghouse by now and probably cleaning up the dishes. If he went home now, he was sure Sophie would insist that he should eat, and he didn’t want to cause her the trouble of fixing anything. He hesitated a moment longer, then decided to get something in the Morning Glory.
“Well, howdy, Will,” Gus Johnson greeted him from behind the bar. “I see you’re back in town.”
“You don’t miss a trick, do ya, Gus?” Will japed. “You think Mammy might have anything left for supper?”
“She usually does when she knows it’s you that’s wantin’ it,” a voice declared over his shoulder.
Recognizing the husky tone of Lucy Tyler, Will turned to say hello. “How you doin’, Lucy?”
“I’ve been better,” the prostitute replied. “Ain’t seen you in a while. You been outta town, or have you just given up associatin’ with the common folk?”
“I’ve been outta town,” he answered.
“Will’s wantin’ some supper,” Gus said, and winked at Lucy. “I’ll go see.” He walked over to the kitchen door and stood just outside it. “Hey, Mammy, somebody’s wantin’ some supper. Is it too late to get a plate?” He turned back toward Will and Lucy, a wide grin plastered across his face, and waited for the expected response.
“Hell, yes, it’s too damn late!” the scrawny little woman screamed back. “I’m already cleanin’ up my kitchen.” Gus remained by the door and waited, still grinning. After a long moment, another screech came from the kitchen. “Who is it wantin’ to eat?”
“Will Tanner,” Gus answered, trying to keep from chuckling. “I’ll tell him it’s too late.” He walked back to the bar.
In a moment, Mammy appeared in the doorway and craned her skinny neck toward them to make sure it was Will. When she saw him, she stuck her lower lip out and blew a thin strand of gray hair from in front of her eyes. “I’ve still got some soup beans and a chunk of ham. There’s a couple of biscuits to go with it. It’ll keep you from starvin’, I reckon.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Will said. “I surely would appreciate it.”
When Mammy went back inside, Gus shook his head and marveled, “Ain’t nobody else in this town Mammy would do that for. Beats all I’ve ever seen.”
“Maybe that’s the reason you don’t ever wanna go upstairs with me,” Lucy joked. “Maybe it ain’t that little gal at the boardin’house who’s got you buffaloed. Maybe all this time it was Mammy.”
“Could be, at that,” Will pretended to admit. “Most likely I remind her of her son, if she ever had one.” He hesitated to continue with what he started to admit, but decided they would know sooner or later. “You might as well know, I’m supposed to get married around Christmastime.”
They were both surprised, Lucy more so than Gus. “Well, I’ll be damned . . .” she drew out. “That little gal at the boardin’house, right?” She didn’t wait for Will to answer. “I knew that was bound to happen. Did you ask her, or was it her idea?”
“Of course I asked her,” Will replied. “At least, I think I did.” When confronted with the question, he wasn’t sure now.
Lucy continued to stare at him in surprise, finding it hard to believe. She somehow never expected Will Tanner to get married. He seemed to have been bred a loner. Finally, she congratulated him and wished him a long and happy marriage. Then she returned to her teasing. “Christmas, huh? Well, I reckon me and Gus are gonna be invited to the wedding.”
“Right now, I ain’t sure I’m on the invitation list,” Will said. The japing was cut short when Mammy came from the kitchen and placed a plate of food on one of the tables. Already sorry he had confessed to his impending trip to the altar, he quickly retreated to eat his supper. It failed to save him further embarrassment, however, for Lucy followed him to the table.
When she saw him place his saddlebags on a chair and prop his rifle against the wall before sitting down, it occurred to her that he was on his way home. It prompted her to ask to be sure. “Are you on your way home?” He nodded. “And you stopped here first?”
“I didn’t wanna put her to any trouble,” he explained.
“Well, she ain’t likely to be very happy if she finds out you stopped at a saloon before you came home to her. I swear, Will, I’m tellin’ you as a friend, you’d better eat that food quick and get your ass home. You gonna be in town for a while now?”
“I don’t know for sure till I see my boss again in the mornin’,” he answered, choking his food down as fast as he could chew it.
Gus laughed when he heard Will’s answer, and Lucy remarked, “Damn! You might be one helluva lawman, but you don’t know the first thing about women.”
“Well, it ain’t like I’ve got a choice,” Will said in his defense.
* * *
He paused at the gate in front of the rambling two-story house Ruth Bennett’s late husband had built shortly before he died of consumption some twenty years ago. Two of Ruth’s longtime borders were sitting on the porch, enjoying their usual after-supper smoke. “How do, Will?” Leonard Dickens greeted him. “Glad to see you got back all right again.”
“You were gone for a good while,” Ron Sample said. “You’d best hurry inside before the women clean up the kitchen.”
“No hurry,” Will replied. “I figured I was a little late, so I grabbed a bite at the Mornin’ Glory on my way back.”
“Just as well,” Leonard said. “Margaret fixed her special chicken and dumplin’s. I swear, that woman sure ruined a good chicken. She’s a pretty good cook with most things, but she don’t know a real dumplin’ from a lump of clabber dough. My late wife made the best dumplin’s I ever et.”
Will opened the front door when Ron took his cue from Leonard and began a testimonial on his late grandmother’s dumplings. Will found Sophie standing in the parlor, talking to her mother. “Will!” Sophie exclaimed, and moved quickly to greet him. He dropped his saddlebags and rifle when she stepped into his arms, ignoring his embarrassment when her mother witnessed her embrace. When she stepped back, she held him by his shoulders at arm’s length as if to examine a wayward child. “No new wounds,” she declared. “Thank goodness for that. You must be starving. I wish you could have gotten here when we had supper on the table, but I’ll fix you something.”
He took a moment to say hello to Ruth before telling Sophie it wasn’t necessary. “I knew I was too late for supper, so I got somethin’ at the Morning Glory on my way home.”
“You stopped at a saloon before you came home?” Sophie responded. He realized then that it would have been best left unsaid. He should have listened to Lucy Tyler’
s comment. “Gone as long as you were, I would have thought you’d want to come to see me before anything else,” Sophie started, then reconsidered. “But never mind, at least you’re finally home. For a good while, I hope, because we’ve got a lot to discuss, a lot of planning for our wedding.” She glanced at her mother, and Ruth nodded to confirm it.
That was not particularly good news to him, but he supposed he was going to have to get involved with the wedding plans, so he tried to put on a good face for his bride-to-be. “Let me take a few minutes to clean up a little bit, and we’ll talk about it,” he said.
* * *
“Well, I must say you look a little better,” Sophie commented when Will walked into the kitchen to join her. “You were a little scruffy-looking when you came in the door. I wasn’t sure that was you under all those whiskers and dirt.”
He smiled and rubbed his clean-shaven chin thoughtfully before responding. “I reckon I did, at that, but a man doesn’t get a chance to take a bath when he’s transportin’ a prisoner across Indian Territory.” He pulled a chair back and sat down at the table, prompting her to get up and go quickly to get a cup of coffee for him.
“If you had come straight home to supper, instead of stopping at that broken-down saloon, you could have had a piece of apple pie with this coffee,” she chided, “but it’s all gone now.”
“I know,” he interrupted, “but I told you I didn’t want to cause you any extra work.” He had already been scolded for his stop in the saloon before coming home—he didn’t need more chiding.
She was about to continue, but Ron Sample came into the kitchen at that moment. “Excuse me for interruptin’, Will, but Jimmy Bradley’s out there on the porch lookin’ for you—says it’s important.”
Surprised, Will asked, “Did he say what it’s about?” Jimmy was Clyde Bradley’s son. Clyde was the owner of the Morning Glory Saloon, and Jimmy liked to hang around the saloon doing odd jobs for Gus Johnson. Will had just seen Jimmy sweeping the floor behind the bar when he had stopped in earlier.
Dig Your Own Grave Page 2
