“Your friend’s beyond help now. There’s nothing more you can do for him.” The lawman’s voice was calm and reassuring. There was a kindness in his eyes and his brow was furrowed with age. A gray mustache covered the upper lip of a small mouth.
Laredo stopped struggling, just staring into the lawman’s face and waiting for the inevitable recognition. He felt the hands behind him release his shoulders and his muscles relaxed.
The man with the sheriff’s star offered him his hands to help him up. Warily, The Kid acknowledged the offer and stretched his arms forward. The Kid’s hands were badly burned and blistered, so the lawman grasped Laredo’s forearms. His grip was strong and he pulled The Kid easily to his feet. This was the first time that the man known as The Laredo Kid had ever put his arms out for a lawman and didn’t have handcuffs placed on his wrists.
Laredo staggered in place for a moment, still a little unsteady on his feet. The sheriff retained his grasp until The Kid seemed to stand steady and was pulling his arms back and trying to release the lawman’s hold.
“Are you all right, mister?” the sheriff asked.
“Yeah. Sure. Fine,” Laredo stammered, checking himself over and trying to brush himself off, but winced and pulled his hands away from his body, palms up. He stared numbly at the burns.
“You’ve got some nasty burns there, mister,” the lawman said. “Here, let me take a look.” He regrasped Laredo’s forearms and examined the hands. “They look worse than they really are. You’re lucky it wasn’t worse. A little salve and some bandages ought to help.”
The lawman’s gaze passed over Laredo’s left shoulder. “Clyde,” he said to one of the men traveling with him. “I’ve got some first aid supplies in my saddle bag. Would you get them please?”
As the sheriff tended to Laredo’s burned hands, The Kid took inventory of the rest of his company.
There were six of them altogether. Besides, the sheriff, there was only one other man wearing a star. He was a tall man, probably, in his mid thirties. He had broad shoulders and the pistol and holster rig on his right thigh looked like it had grown there. The man moved like a cat on long legs and exuded an air of arrogant confidence.
The other four were older men who were dressed more like ranchers or farmers than lawmen.
“We heard the shooting from up the trail,” the sheriff said as he tied off the last bandage. “Can you tell us what happened here?”
“Well……..,” Laredo started, not quite sure whether or not to tell it like it happened. He was spared for the moment, when one of the farmers cut in.
“Are you Dillard?” He said striding forward with Dillard’s rifle in his hand. “This your rifle? It’s got Dillard carved into the stock.”
Laredo hadn’t noticed when he had used the rifle earlier. Laredo glanced from the man to the rifle. Then, back to the man, then the sheriff. Out of the corners of his eyes he could see the deputy and the others staring expectantly at him.
The Kid paused, trying to think. What to do? What to say?
“Yes,” he said quickly, hoping it didn’t sound blurted out. His pulse raced. He could feel excitement shooting through his veins. He reached out with a bandaged hand and took the rifle from the posse man. To his own surprise, his hand didn’t feel so bad as he hefted the weapon. He ran his hands across the stock and barrel, almost as if caressing it. “It is my rifle,” he continued examining it as if checking to see that it was still in good condition, but noting the word ‘Dillard’ on the stock. He ran his fingers into the grooves.
“Dillard?” the sheriff asked, a bit of surprise or doubt in his voice. “Henry Dillard?”
The Kid’s eyes darkened and he answered coldly, “Yes.”
The lawman stuck his hand out again, this time in a hand shaking gesture, then thinking better of the bandaged hands, he retracted it. He rubbed his nose nervously and said, “I’m Sheriff Fred Logan, from Plainview. We’ve been expecting you.”
The Kid failed to respond. He just waited for the sheriff to continue.
The sheriff seemed a bit flustered and then he said, “Uh.. you were about to tell us what happened here.”
“Oh. Yes,” Laredo said, placing the rifle in the crook of his left arm, to hold it more comfortably. “Three men rode in here and tried to steal my horse. We fought it out with them until they heard you coming. Then they lit out.”
The sheriff nodded, then cocked his head behind him, indicating Dillard’s body. “Who’s this man? One of the outlaws?’
“No just some man I met on the trail. His horse had gone lame and left him afoot. I was giving him a ride into Plainview.”
Since Dillard was expected in Plainview, The Kid figured it would be best to play it that way.
“What was his name?” Logan asked.
“Slim,” Laredo said, hoping it didn’t sound too fast. Then, on thinking better of it, he added, “That’s all I know. He never did give a last name and I didn’t ask. Figured if he wanted to give it, he would’ve.”
Sheriff Logan nodded his understanding. It was never polite to ask a man too many personal questions. It was just an unwritten rule of the trail.
“Poor bugger,” the sheriff said, looking down at the still smoldering, charred corpse. “Just in the wrong place at the wrong time.” He sighed. “We’re not going to be able to take the body back to town until it cools off and we should be getting back on the trail of those men.”
“You were after them, then?” Laredo asked in a subdued tone.
“Yeah. Them and their friends held up a bank in Llano last week. Two were shot during the getaway and we caught three others. They were tried and sent to Plainview for hanging. These other three rode into Plainview yesterday. Best guess is they were in town to try to bust their friends out of jail.
“Someone recognized them when they rode in. When I went out to confront them, they pulled irons and started filling the air with lead. They took off like a bat out of hell and rode out of town. I got up a posse and we been after them ever since. We been riding all night.”
“Don’t you think you ought to be getting after them, again, Sheriff?” Laredo offered, thinking about getting the lawmen away from him, so he could hightail it as far away from the posse and Comanche as possible.
“Yes we should,” Logan said wistfully, gazing up the trail where the outlaws had gone. “But, I can’t leave you behind to ride on to Plainview alone.”
“Sure, you can,” The Kid said jovially. “I’ve been on the trail by myself, mostly. Anyways, I reckon I can find my way into Plainview by myself.”
“Yeah. I know. It just doesn’t seem polite to leave you, that’s all.”
“Don’t worry about polite,” Laredo said. “You’ve got your job to do.”
“And, you’ve got yours,” the sheriff finished the sentence for him, although it wasn’t what Laredo would have said. Actually, The Kid thought he had finished saying all he wanted to, without coming right out and saying, “Get the hell away from me.”
“Tell you what I’m going to do,” Logan said. He turned to the man who had retrieved Dillard’s rifle. “Bill. Come here.”
The man shuffled forward. “This is Bill Hanley,” Logan said by way of introduction. “He’s got a farm north of Plainview. These other jaspers are Zeb Marlowe, Clyde Peters, and Seth Dolittle.” He indicated the other three men who were not wearing a star. “This other fellow is my chief deputy, or I should say my right hand. Name’s Clay Shaw.”
Laredo nodded to each of them with each introduction. He tried not to let his gaze linger too long on the deputy, but he was sizing him up as best he could with a quick glance. He could tell that this was a man to be careful of.
There was a hardness in Shaw’s dark brown eyes and he had been sizing The Kid up also. The stolid expression on his face and the set of his jaw made it clear that he didn’t like what he saw in Laredo.
“Bill,” Logan continued. “I want you to escort Mister Dillard back to Plainview while the rest of us go on after that
bunch. Send someone back for the body of this poor fella here.” He indicated the body at his feet.
“That’s really not necessary,” Laredo said, trying not to make it sound like a protest. “I’ll be all right.” He glanced quickly at Clay Shaw. Was the deputy looking at him with suspicion or was it just his imagination. My God! Laredo thought, “ I hope I’m not looking guilty.”
“I know. I know.” The sheriff patted empty air in front of him. “But, this is the way it’s going to be.” Again, he turned to Bill. “See that Mister Dillard gets to Plainview okay. Then take him to see the judge. You got that?”
“Sure thing, Fred. You can count on me.”
“All right then. Now that that’s settled, you other men saddle up and lets get after them jaspers.”
Laredo stood silently next to Bill, watching them ride away. When he could no longer see them on the trail and while their dust was still settling, he turned slightly. The old man next to him seemed to be staring at him as if in awe and admiration. Or was it recognition?
“Is there something wrong, Mister Hanley?” Laredo asked, sternly, steeling himself for an answer he might not want to hear.
“No. No.” Bill stammered. “It’s just that I never stood so close to such a famous man, is all.”
Famous? What the hell did the old man mean by that? Had he recognized him? If so, why didn’t he say so while the sheriff was there? Reward! That had to be it! Hanley wanted to get credit for capturing The Laredo Kid. But, that didn’t make sense either. Surely, this old man could not believe that he could go up against a gunman of his reputation.
“What do you mean, famous?” The Kid almost growled it out, his fingers drifting toward his pistol.
“Well, all the men you’ve hung. Everybody talks about you. Everyone in Plainview has been waiting for you to come to town. They say you put on one hell of a show.”
Hung? The word resonated throughout The Kid’s body. What the hell was this idiot babbling about?
“They do, huh?” The Kid ventured, waiting for more.
“Yes, sir,” Bill proudly stated. “And everybody will sure be surprised to see me riding into town alongside of The Hangman from Hell, himself.”
The Hangman from Hell? The Kid reflected in his mind. That’s who Dillard was? That’s who they think I am. I’ve got to get out of this! He’s an old man. I can shake him before we get to town. I’ve got to.
“Here, let me help you with your gear,” the old man said shuffling over to the blankets and other items strewn around the camp.
“That’s all right,” Laredo said. “I can manage. How about you bury what’s left of that fire while I saddle up.”
“Whatever you say, Mister Dillard.” He set to work kicking dirt into the fire while The Kid picked up the saddle blanket and placed it on the back of Dillard’s horse. As he swung the saddle into place, he noticed the word ‘Dillard’ was also burned into the saddle fenders. A vain cuss, Laredo thought to himself.
He was just tightening the cinch and was about to step up into the stirrup with every intention of riding off as fast as he could and leaving the old man there when he felt a finger tap him on the shoulder. He turned and the old man was standing there with Dillard’s black hat and black duster.
“I suppose you’ll be wanting to be wearing these when you ride into town. Everybody will want to see the man in black.”
Laredo shook his head. “Well, I don’t think so,” he said gazing at the articles in Bill’s hands. “Not today.”
“But everyone will be expecting you to be dressed this way. The whole town is set for the big show. All the men you’re gonna hang this week. It’s really going to be something. Especially since you’re going to be hanging The Laredo Kid.”
It hit The Kid like a ton of bricks. He felt like he had been kicked in the stomach by a mule. He fought hard to keep his chin from dropping and trying not to let his surprise show. “The Laredo Kid?” He managed to croak out warily.
“Sure. You knew that didn’t you? They did tell you? Why, Clay Shaw captured him, himself. He’s gonna collect a big reward for him. Ten thousand dollars. When you hang The Kid, hell, you’re going to be more famous than you are already.”
That tears it, Laredo thought. Now was the time to get out of there. Whoever that poor bastard was that everyone thought was The Laredo Kid, he could just go ahead and get himself hanged. Meanwhile he could just disappear and not have to worry about the law on his trail any more. More than ever, now, he knew this was the time to mount up and ride away.
Just as he was about to turn back to the horse, a clatter of hooves sounded from up the trail. The sheriff’s posse was returning already. Why? They had hardly had a chance to get started on the outlaws’ trail.
“Trail’s all rock up there,” the sheriff said as he and his riders pulled rein in front of Laredo. Logan folded his hands on the pommel and raised up a bit in the stirrups, clearing leather to soothe his bottom, then settled back down in the seat. “They seemed to have vanished into thin air already. Didn’t see much sense in keeping on. We could search all day and not pick up their trail again. Meanwhile, they’d be getting farther and farther ahead. Our horses are about played out anyhow and we still need them to get back home.”
Laredo was feeling small, watching the sheriff and posse members looking down at him from their perches on horseback. Clay Shaw seemed to be holding back a smirk and there was a hint of victory in his eyes, that sent a chill up and down The Kid’s spine.
“Figured we might as well come back and ride into town with you, after all,” Sheriff Logan continued.
“That would be great,” The Kid said trying to hide his disappointment and chagrin. “Sorry you lost track of those other fellows.”
And, he really was sorry, he told himself. He could have handled one lone old man, but now he had six men to contend with. To just ride off now, would be impossible. He would have to bide his time and wait for the right opportunity.
“So, are you going to put these on, Mister Dillard?” Bill Hanley pushed the bundle closer to him.
Laredo eyed the hat and duster. What if they didn’t fit? They’ll know for sure he wasn’t Dillard. And if he wasn’t Dillard, the lawmen would be very interested in who he really was. Even with someone already in jail, known as The Laredo Kid and facing a hangman’s noose, it was not beyond the realm of possibility that his identity could be discovered.
Laredo, once again glanced from the clothes to each of the men and then back to the clothes. He reached out and took the black hat from Bill. He placed it gingerly on his head. It fit! A little bit loose, but a good enough fit.
The coat wouldn’t be as easy, for Henry Dillard had been a tall man. The coat was bound to be too long.
Slowly, The Kid took the duster and shrugged into it. He had broad shoulders and Dillard had had a slight build with rounded shoulders. The duster fit fine around The Kid’s shoulders and the tails drooped well below his knees, almost ankle length. Laredo remembered that the duster had barely covered the knees of Dillard’s long legs.
The problem with the fit was the sleeves. They were too long, sliding halfway down The Kid’s palms. Laredo hiked the sleeves up quickly, hoping no one would notice. “Ready?” He said promptly turning and stepping into the stirrups.
“When you are, Mister Dillard,” Logan said, lifting the reins.
“Let’s go then,” Laredo said feigning a lilt to his voice, tapped his heels to his mount’s ribs and urged him forward.
The posse men rode forward, surrounding him, while old Bill fumbled with his stirrup and clumsily climbed into the saddle, following behind.
For sure there was no way he could just ride off, now, Laredo thought. He would just have to play this hand out and see where the cards fell. His luck had never been good. Now, he was surrounded by the law with only one option left open for him.
For as long as he had to, and for whatever he would have to do, one thing was certain. He would have to be The Hangman f
rom Hell.
*****
Chapter Six
Alias: The Hangman From Hell Page 5
