by Ralph Cotton
“Oh . . .” Billy looked disappointed. His eyes lowered. “Well, you can see, I’m still here.”
“Yes, and we’re all glad of it, Billy,” said Sam. He leaned down to talk to Billy at face level. “Now, I want you to come back to the sheriff’s office with us for a while. You can come back and see your ma at supper time.”
“But why? You said yourself, Willie John got what he came here for . . . He’s gone now.”
“Just in case, Billy,” said Sam. “If he would happen to pull something before leaving town, we want to be able to say where you were. We wouldn’t want anybody pointing a finger at you, saying you was a part of anything, would we?”
“No, we wouldn’t,” said Billy Odle, but Sam could see the excitement return to the boy’s eyes at just the suggestion.
“Come on,” said Sam. “Go along with Collins and Yates, help them keep an eye on things for a spell, all right?”
“All right,” Billy nodded.
Sam straightened up and said to Collins, “Why don’t you and Billy go on. Yates will be right along.”
“Sure,” said Collins, seeing the Ranger wanted to talk without the boy hearing him. “Come along, Billy.”
As soon as the two were headed down the stairs, Sam turned to Carl Yates, asking, “Does anybody else know about this yet?”
“No, just Andrews, Collins and me—now you and Billy, of course.”
“Good,” said Sam. “We’ll keep it that way for now. We’ll have time to warn everybody if my hunch is right. I don’t want to cause anybody to go running out thinking they’re going to track down Willie John and leave this town unguarded.”
“I don’t understand,” said Carl Yates, cocking his head in curiosity. “You’re expecting trouble? You figure there was more to it than him coming here to get his horse?”
“Yep, I think so,” said Sam.
Yates looked puzzled.
“Think about it, Yates,” said Sam. “If he caught Andrews off guard enough to knock him in the head, he could have gone on and killed him. He could have dragged him into a stall, covered him with straw . . . it could be tomorrow before anybody knew about it, even longer before they realized Willie John had anything to do with it.” Sam shook his head. “Nope, Willie John knew what he was doing. He might have come to get his horse, but there was other things at work, you can bet on it.”
“I see,” said Yates, getting the picture. “Think it’s the bank again? Think there’s some of the Ganstons’ men left, they’re going to take another run at it? They sent Willie John to get you out of town first?”
“That might be part of it,” said Sam. “I think Willie John needs to let me know he’s still around. Needs to make sure he gets me back on his trail.”
“He does?” Again Carl Yates looked puzzled. “That makes no sense to me at all. Why would he want to get you on his trail?”
“I didn’t say he wants me back on his trail,” said Sam. “I said he needs me back on his trail.”
Yates considered it, then said, “Hell, that still makes no sense to me, unless he’s trying to get himself killed.”
Sam Burrack didn’t answer. He walked over to the stairs and headed down. Carl Yates followed until they got to the front door of the hotel. Then Sam turned and said, “I’m going to ride out of here to the north, just far enough to be seen, then I’m coming back. You and Collins get the townsmen ready.”
Carl Yates hesitated for a moment then said, “Would you do us a favor, Ranger?”
Sam looked at him. “What’s that?”
“Will you let us handle this on our own? The town needs to do something right, to make up for all that’s gone wrong.”
Sam thought about it, then said, “All right, I’ll ride out like I said. I’ll listen for the shooting. If none of the outlaws come riding out, I’ll figure you and your townsmen got all of them and I’ll go on after Willie John. Fair enough?”
“Yes,” said Yates. “I sure appreciate it, Ranger.”
Sam nodded. “Just be sure you get every one of them. If one rides out of here, I’ll have no choice but to take him down and haul back here.”
“Don’t worry, Ranger, we’ll take care of them,” said Yates.
“And no matter what happens, keep a close eye on the boy,” Sam said.
“Want us to jail him for his own good till you get back?” asked Yates.
“No,” Sam said adamantly, speaking over his shoulder as he walked out the door. “I could be gone a long time. Keep him at the sheriff’s office, but don’t jail him. Besides, I’m afraid we’ll get him too used to looking at the world through iron bars. All we can do for Billy Odle is make sure he’s getting a fair shake. We can be his friends. But from now on, the rest is up to him.”
***
Once Morgan Aglo and his partners had swung wide of Hubbler Wells, they stopped to rest their horses before riding in. From the cover of a short rise in the land, Joe Shine stepped his horse up carefully and looked out across the snow. After a moment he called back to Morgan Aglo and motioned him forward. “You’ve got to see this, boss! That Injun was right. There goes the Ranger headed out after him!”
“How the hell do you know it’s the Ranger?” Aglo asked in a gruff tone, punching his horse forward, then jerking it to a stop beside Joe Shine. He looked out across the snow, squinting against the dim glow of sunlight through the gray sky.
Shine said, “I just figure it is, boss. Willie said the Ranger would be riding out, tracking him. It sure looks like that rider is dead on Willie’s trail to me.”
Morgan Aglo studied the rider’s bearing from afar, the way the man sat his saddle, the way he rode tall and smoothly even in the foot-deep snow. A rifle was across his lap. “I reckon you’re right for once, Joe. I’d make him for a lawman, sure enough, whether Willie had tipped us off or not.” Morgan Aglo thought things over for a second, then said, “Of course, if he hears shooting from town he’ll come back.”
“Yep,” said Joe Shine, “and we’ll be long gone by then, if we know what the hell we’re doing.”
“Uh-hmm,” Morgan Aglo nodded, seeming to only half hear Joe Shine. “I wonder why that Injun didn’t go ahead and ask us to ambush that lawdog? It would’ve been easy enough.”
“I don’t try to figure out how that Injun’s mind works,” said Joe Shine. “I have a hard enough time figuring out what I’m thinking.”
“That sounds like a terrible affliction,” said Morgan Aglo, giving a sly grin, putting aside what Willie John might or might not have been thinking. “Suppose having a bunch of money in your pocket would cure it?” He backed his horse as he spoke.
Joe Shine returned the grin, jerking his horse back with him and saying, “Hell, I’m convinced it would.”
The four riders gathered into a loose formation and rode forward at an easy gait, saving their horses’ strength for the ride back out of town. Nearing Hubbler Wells from the south, Morgan Aglo took note of the many fresh hoofprints headed in the opposite direction. “Willie John was right again,” he said to the others beside him. “Looks like that bounty posse decided to find themselves a warmer spot to lay up in.” He looked back and forth at the faces of Joe Shine, Tack Beechum and Texas Bob Mackay, steam swirling in their breath. “Boys, it’s our lucky day!”
A half mile away, Sam Burrack turned his horse around and headed back, careful to keep himself from being seen on the rolling flatland. He’d caught only a fleeting glimpse of fine powder drifting upward like dust across the top of a low rise, but that was all he needed. He circled southward on his way back until he came upon the fresh tracks left by Morgan Aglo and the others. Then he heeled the horse forward, the rifle coming up from his lap. He levered it with the snap of one hand and kept his thumb across the cocked hammer for safety.
In Hubbler Wells, after checking on Ronald Andrews, Selectman Collins and Carl Yates left Billy Odle with him and hurried to the saloon, waving down as many townsmen as they could on their way. As the townsmen gathered near
the bar, Collins stepped up onto a chair and called out to them, his voice charged with fear and excitement, “Everybody listen up . . . We’ve got more outlaws heading this way!” His eyes went to Darton Vittitow who pressed a palm to his forehead in disbelief. “That’s right, Mr. Vittitow, the Ranger says they’ll be here to try and rob your bank again.”
“Poor Timothy,” said Vittitow. “I don’t think his nerves will be able to stand this. Why in the name of God do they keep doing this?”
“I don’t know, sir,” said Collins. “The Ranger says they’re doing it simply because they know they can. I believe him. The word is out on us—we’re a losing town that’s about to go under. We’ve still got a bank, but we won’t for long. They figure to rob it now while the pickings are still good.” His voice took a fury. “It’s like getting a lousy pack of hungry dogs on your trail—they can’t stop until either they’ve ate you up, or you’ve put them out of their misery. The important thing is that we need to be ready when they get here. Show them we’ve got some fight in us, with or without the posse, with or without the Ranger. Maybe if we handle things right for ourselves this time, it will be the last we see of them.”
“What, are you asking us for help, Collins?” Asa Dahl called out in a sarcastic tone. “Now that you and that Ranger are scratching each other’s backs, maybe you ought to rely on him and leave us alone. You refused to cooperate with us when we needed your support. Where’s your Ranger now that you need him?”
“He’ll be here if he can,” said Collins. “He rode out to throw these men off, make them think he was leaving town.”
“What the hell’s that supposed to do for us?” Asa Dahl growled.
Collins gave a him a cold hard stare, the first he’d ever given anyone that he could recall. “Look, Dahl, I’m not going to explain this to you. I’m sheriff until somebody’s elected to take the job. You can either back my play on this or not. I’m not out to convince you whether or not you should.” His eyes went across the others as he continued. “This town belongs to all of us. If we want to keep it we better be ready to join together and fight for it. If not, we might just as well turn tail and clear out of here, leave this place standing empty in the wind. Right now, we’ve got men coming to take what’s ours. Are you going to help me stop them or not?”
The townsmen looked at one another and nodded their support. “Give us a couple of minutes to arm ourselves,” said a voice from within their midst. “We’ll be right behind you!”
“Good,” said Collins. “Get any horse away from the hitch rails and leave no wagons on the street for them to use for cover. It’s bad enough we’ve got so much snow piled up . . . they’ll use it if they can.”
“Ha!” said Asa Dahl, listening to Collins shout orders. “You men must be out of your mind. This man is no lawman.” He looked at Darton Vittitow. “If you’re smart, you’ll take your money out of the vault and hide it someplace until these men have come and gone. Everybody lay up until they’ve left here.” He swung a pointed finger at Collins. “But whatever you do, don’t listen to this fool! He’s a two-bit lackey I brought here when I came to Hubbler Wells—a tinhorn I figured would make a good politician, to help me run my business! Look at him close, boys. Is this the kind of man you want to follow?”
The men turned their questioning gazes to Collins who stepped down from the wooden chair and slid it away from himself. He took a deep breath and said in a level tone, “It’s true what he’s saying. I’ve been nothing but a sold-out fool ever since I first ran for office here. But by God, this is my home! I’m not asking you to stand up to these men for me . . . I’m asking you to stand up to them with me. That’s the only difference you’ll see in me today.” His eyes went from man to man in turn, then stopped on Asa Dahl. “I hope that difference is enough. If not, I’ll go out there alone. Live or die, from now on I’m not looking at what’s best for me. I’m doing what’s best for my home.”
“And we’re with you!” cried a voice above the roar of approving townsmen. They hurried away to get their weapons, spilling out through the doors onto the snowy street.
Asa Dahl chuckled under his breath, picked up a shotglass full of whiskey and raised it toward Selectman Collins in a mock salute. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” he said.
“No,” said Collins. “To be honest I’m not sure I know exactly what I’m doing. I just know I’m doing what I think’s right for a change . . . what these people hired me to do, not what best suits your needs.”
“Then you’ve let that piece of tin on your chest go straight to your head,” said Dahl. “Be careful it doesn’t end up getting you killed.”
Chapter 20
Morgan Aglo stopped his horse at the beginning of the main street into Hubbler Wells. He looked all around at the high mounds of snow where the townsmen had cleared a wide path the length of the town. With a broad grin, Aglo raised his pistol from his holster and said, “Now, boys, this is what I call a hospitable bunch. They’ve cleared the way out of town to keep our horses from breaking a leg.”
“Thank you kindly, Hubbler Wells,” said Joe Shine in a lowered voice, raising his hat toward the empty boardwalk. Tack Beechum and Morgan Aglo muffled a laugh. Texas Bob Mackay only looked back and forth without a trace of humor, wondering why no one looked out from the windows or doorways, why not even one horse stood at the hitch rail out front of the saloon.
“I’ve seen empty towns before,” he murmured to himself, “but this one takes the all-time prize.”
“What’s that?” Morgan asked, turning in his saddle toward Texas Bob Mackay, barely hearing his words. “Did you say something, Texas Bob?”
“I said maybe I best stay back here and keep guard, make sure nobody’s up to something.”
Morgan Aglo looked him up and down, then flagged him forward with his pistol barrel. “Naw, we need you up here in front, Texas Bob, just in case your old bounty-hunting habits turn too powerful for you to resist.”
“What?” Texas Bob’s face turned red with rage.
“You heard me,” said Morgan Aglo. “Don’t go thinking about reaching for that pistol.”
Texas Bob let his hand move away from his pistol butt. “That’s a hell of a way for you to talk to me, Aglo,” Bob responded, “after all I went through to come up here and join you boys.”
“All the same, get on up in front here,” said Morgan Aglo, angling his horse away from Texas Bob and keeping his eyes on him. “Boys, keep ole Texas Bob in front of yas at all times. He could get amnesia on us, forget who he’s riding with.”
Texas Bob Mackay had all the insults he could take. Again he started to reach for his pistol, but Tack Beechum and Joe Shine already had theirs out, cocked and pointed. “You heard him, Texas Bob,” said Joe Shine. “Just do what you’re supposed to do and everybody’ll get along fine. You didn’t think you could hook right up with us after riding with a bounty posse and expect to be treated like a long-lost brother, did you?”
“You son of a bitch,” Texas Bob snarled.
Inside the saloon, Selectman Collins held an arm out to his side as if keeping the men behind him quiet. “Here they come, men,” he whispered. “Everybody get ready . . . It’s not going to be like the last time. We’re not going to lose a man, and none of them are getting away.”
Beside him, Darton Vittitow leaned forward and peeped out around the corner of the door, gripping a shotgun tightly in his thick hands. “What in the world are they doing out there? It looks more like they’re getting ready to fight one another!”
“Everybody just hold on tight,” said Selectman Collins. “Let them get closer to the bank. We’ll catch them in a cross fire.” He looked over at the alley beside the bank building and saw Carl Yates and a half-dozen townsmen crouched back out of sight from the street. In the dusty window of the sheriff’s office, Ronald Andrews stood watching with apprehension as the four horsemen moved their horses along the cleared street. Speaking under his breath through the window pane and t
oward the saloon, he whispered, “Come on, Collins, make your move! Don’t wait around!”
Billy Odle slipped in beside Ronald Andrews and looked out, cutting his gaze toward the four horsemen.
“Who is it out there? It’s not Willie John, is it?” Billy asked, sounding hopeful.
“Stay back, Billy.” Ronald Andrews drew him back from the window. “Willie John’s not out there. I already checked. Willie’s gone for good, if you want my opinion.”
“No he’s not,” said Billy, stuffing his hands down tight into his trouser pockets, giving a sullen look toward Bootlip Thomas as if looking for an ally.
But Bootlip Thomas only shook his head. “He’s telling you right, Billy. This town has seen the last of that Indian for a while. If he’s smart he’s headed for the border right now.”
“I don’t believe he came here just for the horse,” said Billy. “He came here thinking I was in trouble. He was going to bust me out of jail if I was under arrest. Lucky for everybody I wasn’t.”
“Kid,” said Ronald Andrews, “there’s so much you don’t know, it’s hard to know where to start.”
“There’s nothing you can tell me,” said Billy. “What do you know about people like Willie John and me? You’re nothing but a blacksmith—not even a real blacksmith at that. You’re just a blacksmith’s helper.”
Ronald Andrews shot Bootlip Thomas a guarded look, then picked up a rifle from atop the desk and levered a round into the chamber. “I guess you’re right, kid. I’m only a blacksmith’s helper—what do I know about outlaws?” He walked back to the window and looked out. “Yates asked me to stay put here with you, Billy. So I’m going to try. But from the looks of what’s getting ready to happen out there, I’m going to have to leave you here on your own and go help them. Will you be all right if I have to do that?”
“I can take care of myself,” said Billy.
Bootlip Thomas cut in, saying, “Billy, he ain’t asking if you can take care of yourself. He’s asking if he can trust you, you hardheaded little peckerwood. Don’t you have enough sense to see everybody here is doing their best to help you? All you’re doing is acting like an—”
