There was a moment of hesitation on the part of both men, but Luther dropped his rifle, then Ansel reluctantly dropped his, his hands trembling with rage, and they stood there, their backs still toward him. “You gonna shoot us down, like you did with Whip Dawson?” Luther spat defiantly.
“He made a choice,” Will answered. “It was the wrong choice. If you decide to make the wrong choice, I’ll shoot you down. You don’t give me any trouble and you won’t get shot. Now, ease those pistols outta your holsters with your left hands and drop them on the ground, one at a time, you first, Beaudry.” His arrest was hindered by the fact that he had no handcuffs with him and no rope, either. He was going to have to march them back to his packhorse to get them. “All right, start walkin’, same direction you were walkin’ in.” They did as he ordered and when he came to their weapons on the ground, he started to reach down and gather them up. He decided against it, thinking it not wise to have his arms full of weapons, so he left them for later.
When they reached the spot where he had entered the trees, he directed them toward his fallen packhorse. The horse was fatally wounded, though still alive when they got to it. Will did not want the horse to suffer any longer, so he pulled his Colt .44 and put a bullet in the suffering animal’s head. Still facing away from him, both men jumped when the gun suddenly went off behind them, with Ansel releasing a little yelp of surprise. Will quickly covered him with his Colt. Luther, thinking Will at a disadvantage managing a gun in one hand and a rifle in the other saw it as his chance. He spun around, pulling the extra handgun he had shoved under his belt, the gun the deputy had been too careless to notice, and fired. His shot was wide of the mark, catching Will in the shoulder, and before he could cock it again, he doubled over when the .44 slug from Will’s rifle ripped into his gut. Will turned to cover Ansel, who was already running in between the trees. He started to take a shot at him, but turned back quickly when he heard the sound of a hammer cocking. Seeing Luther struggling to raise his pistol, he fired. Luther dropped to the ground immediately, unable to get off another round before Will’s fatal shot stopped him.
With no time to curse himself for failing to check both of them for weapons they might have hidden, he had no choice but to chase through the woods after Beaudry. He considered riding his horse after the fleeing outlaw, but decided he’d be too much a target on horseback, and Beaudry would reach the spot where he dropped his guns before he would. He took a brief look at the wound in his shoulder and decided it wasn’t as bad as it was painful, so he started running after Beaudry.
Aware only of a stinging in his shoulder, he made his way through the laurel bushes that crowded the banks of the stream, moving as fast as he could while trying not to walk into an ambush. The light was quickly fading now and he was not certain he was back to the spot where he had left the weapons until he nearly tripped on one of the rifles. He paused to take a closer look on the bank and discovered the rifle, but nothing else. Beaudry must not have seen it in his haste. Will looked all around him before he continued along the creek, moving even more carefully now that he was sure Beaudry was armed. He was still about twenty-five yards from reaching the river trail when he heard the sounds of hooves on the hard dirt track. Beaudry was running! He had figured the outlaw would surely try to ambush him. Discarding all thoughts of caution at this point, he pushed through the bushes as fast as he could, but was only able to reach the trail in time to see Beaudry already galloping out of range. He fired a couple of shots after him in desperation, knowing it was wasted ammunition.
Feeling frustrated for having missed the chance to capture the last two of the six wanted men, he looked again at his shoulder and the large amount of blood that had soaked his shirtsleeve. Luther Curry was dead, but he should have captured him and Beaudry as well, if he had not been careless. He could have excused his carelessness, since he had not been prepared for the ambush, thinking it unlikely this far from Grassy Creek. “But, damn it, you shouldn’t have been thinkin’ about Sophie Bennett. You shoulda had your mind on your business,” he scolded. At this point, he gave no thought of immediate chase, for his horse was about a hundred yards back upstream. And to make matters worse, Buster was already exhausted. He couldn’t ask the horse to run itself to death. Catching Ansel Beaudry was important, but not as important as saving his horse. It was at that moment he heard the rustle of laurel branches behind him.
Acting on pure instinct, he spun around and dropped to one knee, his rifle ready to fire as a horse pushed through the bushes on the other side of the trail. Will released the hammer already cocked when he saw the empty saddle. It had to be Curry’s horse wandering back after having strayed before. He was not surprised that Beaudry hadn’t taken the time to try to find the horse. The thought occurred to him that this was a fresh horse and he could go after Beaudry right away. He only gave it a moment’s consideration, however, for the same reason he wouldn’t try to force Buster to chase Beaudry: he wasn’t going to ride off and leave his horse. Besides this, he knew where Beaudry was going. He was going to hole up in that cabin and dare him to come get him—no easy accomplishment—and there was little chance of catching him before he reached Grassy Creek. There was no thought of leaving Grassy Creek without Ansel Beaudry. It would just have to wait until tomorrow. For now, his horse was tired, his packhorse was dead, his shoulder needed cleaning up, he was hungry, and he needed a cup of coffee. On the positive side, every member of the Ansel Beaudry gang was down but one, either captured or dead. And he had a replacement for his packhorse. “Come on, boy,” he said calmly as he took the dark sorrel’s reins, then stepped up into the saddle. My orders from Dan Stone were to find ’em, but don’t try to engage them, wait for the posse, he thought as he turned the sorrel’s head upstream. Maybe I should learn to follow orders.
* * *
Although Ansel Beaudry’s horse was well rested when he jumped into the saddle and fled the site of the ambush, it was close to exhaustion by the time it climbed up the final rise of Grassy Creek. Elmira’s son, Eddie, stood at the edge of the porch, squinting into the dark passage when he heard the splashing of hooves in the water. Eddie was always the first to spot anyone coming up the creek from the river below the cabin, and in a few minutes, he identified the rider. “It’s Ansel comin’ back,” he yelled, then waited there, figuring Ansel would tell him to take care of his horse. “Howdy, Ansel,” Eddie greeted him. “Where’s Luther?”
Ansel stepped down and said, “Take care of him,” ignoring Eddie’s question. He pulled his saddlebags off the horse and hurried directly into the house, leaving the boy to wonder about the lathered-up horse.
Elmira and Darlene stared wide-eyed at the obviously agitated man when he stormed into the kitchen and went directly to the shelf where the last of their whiskey supply sat. “Damn,” Darlene blurted, “you look like you saw a ghost.” Both women looked toward the door, expecting Luther to follow him.
“Where’s Luther?” Elmira asked.
Ansel didn’t answer until after he poured himself a stiff shot of whiskey, and then a second one. “Luther’s dead,” he finally told them.
“Uh-oh!” Elmira exclaimed. “Will Tanner?”
“Yeah, Will Tanner,” Ansel responded, “and he damn near got me.”
Immediately concerned, Elmira asked, “Is he chasin’ after you? Is he comin’ up here?” She was not sure how much hell Ansel had brought down upon them. From the first day he had arrived, she had regretted the fact that Tom Daly had led his gang to her cabin. Rough and demanding, he had forced her to give up her room, so he could have a private room. Then he cold-bloodedly shot down her friend Oscar Moon right in her front yard. She cursed the day when Ansel Beaudry entered her door. She feared she might lose everything she had gambled to build this place on Grassy Creek if Will Tanner led a posse of lawmen up here to clean her out.
“I don’t know!” Ansel railed at her. “I don’t know what he’s gonna do.” He snarled, “I hope he does try to come up here afte
r me. I want that boy of yours to take his blanket out on the porch and sleep there tonight. Only, he’d damn sure better sleep with one eye open. I wanna know if anything comes up that creek tonight.” He looked around him then as if just remembering where he was. “What the hell are you two standin’ around gapin’ at me for? I’m hungry. I pay you good money to cook supper and I need something to eat right now.” The mention of money only served to infuriate him and he silently cursed Luther Curry for not tying his horse securely. When he got to his horse, Luther’s horse had strayed. He didn’t care about the horse, but Luther’s share of the bank robberies was in his saddlebags. Now Tanner likely had it. Ansel was certain that explained Will Tanner’s real reason for dogging them so hard—taking the bank money for himself. He got Whip Dawson’s share and likely Tom’s and Bo’s—Cecil’s, for sure, and now he had Luther’s. He might be wearin’ a deputy marshal’s badge, but Ansel was sure he was as big an outlaw as he was, like a lot of lawmen. He stood there, scowling like an angry wolf before suddenly realizing the two women were glaring fearfully at him. “Get some supper on the table!” he roared.
“It woulda already been on the table if you hadn’ta come in here raising all that fuss,” Elmira responded. “Go set down at the table and we’ll bring it in. We can’t do nothin’ with you standin’ in the way.”
Ansel’s eyes narrowed in a deep, angry frown as he focused his gaze upon her. “You keep up with that sharp tongue of yours and I’ll rip it outta your mouth for you,” he threatened. She was about to reply in kind, but decided not to push her luck. He had an insane look in his eyes, and she remembered the casual coolness he exercised when he shot Oscar Moon. He stood there, staring at her for a long moment as if hoping she’d say one more sassy word. When she didn’t, he finally turned and walked out of the kitchen and sat down at the table.
“For Pete’s sake,” Elmira whispered to Darlene, “go take him some coffee. He’s actin’ like he’s gone plum loco.”
“I thought you were gonna get us both killed there for a minute,” Darlene said, “talkin’ back to him like that.”
Elmira didn’t answer right away, thinking about the insane way Ansel was talking. “He’s scared,” she finally declared, “scared outta his mind. Will Tanner’s got him so buffaloed he don’t know what to do.”
Darlene paused, Ansel’s coffee cup in hand. “Will Tanner’s got me buffaloed, too. What’s gonna happen to us if he comes up here after Ansel?”
“I don’t know, honey. I don’t know.” She dipped out a plate of stew from the large pot on her stove, picked up a plate of biscuits, and followed Darlene into the dining room.
Ansel dived into the food as soon as it was placed before him. He had chosen a chair that faced the front door and nervously watched it while he ate. Elmira couldn’t stop herself from commenting. “I made that stew with some of that beef Oscar Moon brought me. Reckon I’ll have to find me a new source to get fresh beef.” If Ansel heard her sarcastic remark, he showed no sign of it, his focus still on the door. Elmira looked at Darlene and shook her head, then walked to the door. “Supper’s on!” she yelled out the open door. In a few minutes, Eddie appeared in the doorway and started to sit down.
“Fill your plate and take it out on the porch,” Ansel said to him. “You can eat out there as good as you can sittin’ at this table.”
Puzzled, Eddie asked, “Why would I wanna set out there?”
“Because I’m payin’ you twenty-five dollars to sit out there and keep watch tonight,” Ansel replied. “I wanna know if anybody rides up that creek tonight, and I wanna know right away.”
“Twenty-five dollars!” Eddie exclaimed. “Yes, sir, I’ll keep watch.” He picked up a plate and piled stew on it. “What about Luther? Is he comin’ behind you?” Elmira told him that Luther was dead, shot by Will Tanner. “Dang,” Eddie huffed. “I reckon there’s plenty of stew, then.” He helped himself to another spoonful.
“You just make sure you keep your eyes open,” Ansel said, “and I’ll pay you in the mornin’.”
Elmira got a quilt for Eddie to take out to the porch, since he was bound to get a little chilly during the night. Eddie took it, but insisted that he wasn’t going to go to sleep, he was determined to earn that twenty-five dollars. When Ansel finished eating, he went straight to his room, instead of sitting by the fireplace in the dining room, as he had usually done. Darlene looked at Elmira and raised her eyebrows when they heard the door slam shut and the bolt being thrown.
* * *
Ansel stood in the middle of the bedroom surveying his situation as far as his self-protection was concerned. He was not completely satisfied that Elmira’s young son could give him warning enough in the event Will Tanner showed up that night. Consequently, he decided to shove Elmira’s bed over closer to the wall, away from the one small window. When that didn’t seem to be protection enough, he decided to pull the quilts off onto the floor between the bed and the wall, using the bed for protection. All the while, he kept telling himself he was not afraid of the persistent lawman, he was just being smart. He could lay his rifle and pistol on the bed just above his head, so they would be readily at hand, should the need arise during the night. He could not say for sure that Tanner knew where this hideout was actually located. He and Luther had speculated that he might know, but was not willing to risk his neck coming up that creek. I guess we’ll see, he told himself. I hope to hell he does.
The feeling he had experienced, when he was just able to escape after Tanner shot Luther, kept coming back to him as he sat in his bedroom fortress. He did not want to admit that it was fear, he had never felt fear of anyone, but it was a different feeling, and he was having trouble forgetting it. The recent talk between himself and Luther came back to him, when Luther had tried to persuade him that they should run while Tanner was evidently taking Cecil somewhere to be locked up. Maybe Luther had been right. Maybe it would have been smarter to leave the cursed lawman’s territory and make a new start. Maybe the smart thing to do would be for him to do that now, instead of trying to hold out up here. Treed, the term came back to him, and he felt more treed by the moment, and never more alone than now with no one to back him.
* * *
He sat there between the bed and the wall long after there were no more sounds from the kitchen and the dining room. Then the sounds of the women’s voices as they prepared for bed faded away until they, too, were gone, until there were no sounds at all. That was when it was the worst, for that was when he strained to listen for sounds that weren’t there. As the night crawled slowly by, he nodded off in spite of his determination not to, only to awaken a few minutes later in near panic for having left himself vulnerable for that time. He decided that Luther had been right and he made up his mind to leave Grassy Creek in the morning as soon as it was light enough to see.
Chapter 12
With the first rays of light that shone through the small window, a stiff and bleary-eyed Ansel Beaudry eased himself up from his tiny fortress, creeped to the door, and listened for any sounds that might indicate anything out of the ordinary. When he decided there were none, he drew his pistol, then slowly slid the bolt back and opened the door. Relieved to find no one in the short hall, he started toward the front door, passing through the dining room, when he heard a sudden noise to his right. He spun around, his .44 cocked, and drew down on a startled Elmira in the kitchen doorway, holding the coffeepot. “Damn you!” he spat. “I almost shot you!” Frightened by the insane look in his eyes, she made no response and just stood there while he went to the front door. Wake up, Eddie, she pleaded silently as Ansel slowly opened the door. Seconds later, she heard the commotion on the front porch.
“You lazy little bastard!” Ansel roared when he found Eddie nodding off. “I told you to keep your eyes open! A whole posse of lawmen coulda rode up that creek while you were sleepin’.”
“I wasn’t sleepin’,” Eddie pleaded. “I stayed awake all night, just like you said. I didn’t close my ey
es till just a few minutes ago when Ma came out and said she was makin’ some coffee for me.”
“That’s your story,” Ansel charged. “I ain’t payin’ you for sleepin’. Get up from there and go saddle my horse. Bring him and one of the packhorses up here to the porch.” Eddie scrambled to his feet and ran to do Beaudry’s bidding. Ansel stood watching him until he disappeared into the barn. Then he turned to go back inside, but stopped and turned back around, stepped off the porch, and went to the corner of the cabin to answer nature’s call. When he was finished, he went back in the kitchen to get some coffee. When Elmira brought him a cup, he said, “I’m leavin’ this rat’s nest you call a hideout and I’m gonna need some things to take with me. Then he started calling off items of supplies as he could think of them.
“That’s gonna put a helluva hole in my supplies,” Elmira said when he had finished. “You ain’t hardly paid me for that much stuff.” Judging by his crazy actions during the last two days, she was a little cautious in her complaining to him, even now uncertain if he was really going to leave. At this point, however, she was happy to hear he planned to go, whether he paid her all he owed or not.
“I’ve already paid you more money than you deserve,” he claimed. “You ain’t gettin’ no more. I’m leavin’ two extra packhorses. That’ll make up the difference.”
“All right,” she said, not willing to rile him up again, “if you think that’s fair.” Ready for an argument from her, he paused for a moment, then went into the bedroom to get his things and bring them out by the front door. She couldn’t resist asking then, “You expectin’ him to come ridin’ up here this mornin’?”
“Maybe,” he said, calmer now. “But I ain’t gonna be here when he does.” He cocked a suspicious eye at her. “What are you worried about? He ain’t after you.”
Dig Your Own Grave Page 15
