Evil Never Sleeps

by William W. Johnstone

  “You mean make me into the world’s biggest fool?” Dolly asked, hanging her head in shame. “I believed every lie he told me. It’s gonna take me a long time to get over this.”

  “No such a thing,” Rena was quick to reply. “You just gave a stranger a double load of buckshot. It ain’t like it was anything serious.”

  Dolly laughed in spite of herself. “How can you joke about what I did?”

  “Listen, honey, I got a feeling about this fellow, just like I had a feeling about our Mr. Gaylord Pressley, or Preacher McCoy, or whatever his name is. Only the feeling I got with this deputy is a good one. He’s tough. I think he’ll heal up faster than you think and thank you for giving him a chance to rest for a while.”

  “What if he wants to arrest me for shooting him?”

  “Well, then, we’ll shoot him again.”

  * * *

  Rena’s feelings proved to be accurate in regard to Will Tanner. The morning after he was bushwhacked by Dolly, he was able to sit up in bed and drink the coffee Rena brought him, even though he could not get out of the bed for a couple more days. When he could move a little better, Rena transferred him to Preacher’s room, so she could return to hers. During that time, and the days that followed, he was treated royally by the women of the Palace and Dolly bought him a new shirt to replace the one ruined by the buckshot. He was healing fairly rapidly although it would take some time before he became unaware of the pieces of shot lodged deep in the muscles in his back. While he could not deny the frustration of having walked into an ambush, even though it was not a planned one, he understood the reason it had happened. He blamed himself for being careless when he walked into the Palace. There was one other who was disappointed in the confrontation that revealed the outlaw, Preacher McCoy. Frank Welch headed back to Wichita the morning after, minus the big job he thought he had, but at least he had his life—and three hundred dollars Preacher had given him to buy some materials. The three hundred was worth making the trip for, he decided, and he could use the supplies he had loaded in his wagon in Wichita.

  In a short time, Will came to know the people at the Prairie Palace as decent folks who had simply been victims of Preacher McCoy’s charade as a moneyed gentleman. Dolly, of course, was the most remorseful for having been taken in so completely that she was inspired to protect the vicious outlaw. And she, even more than Rena, was there to fulfill his every request. As far as Will himself, he was healing rapidly physically, but knowing he had come so close to arresting Preacher, only to lose him again, created a frustration bigger than he had ever experienced before. He had no idea where to start looking for him, and it served no purpose for him to stay on in Kansas without a lead of some kind. With no other choice, he concentrated on getting well enough to ride, with the intention of going back to Fort Smith to report to Dan Stone that he had failed to deliver Preacher McCoy once again. It was a ride he didn’t look forward to.

  * * *

  “You must be feeling fit as a fiddle,” Rena commented when Will walked into the kitchen to get his morning coffee. He was wearing his cartridge belt and holster. “You thinking about going somewhere?”

  “I’m thinkin’ it’s time I got on a horse again,” he replied. “I feel ready to ride. Most of those smaller wounds have healed. I expect my back’s healin’ over those deep wounds and maybe before too much longer they’ll quit achin’.”

  “Ain’t nobody knows better’n you,” Rena said. “But if I was you, I’d be darn sure I was well enough before I started out anywhere. You’ve still got a lot of lead in your back and you go bouncing around on a horse, you’re liable to start that bleeding again.”

  “And you need more iron in your blood,” Dolly said, having heard Rena’s comment as she walked in carrying a large cut of fresh meat. She placed the meat on the table next to the stove. “So you’re not going anywhere till you eat a good portion of this. We finally got some fresh butchered beef and that’s what you need to build your blood back up.”

  “Dolly’s right,” Rena said. “We waited long enough for him to show up with some beef. Is he about finished butchering that cow?”

  “Already finished,” another voice from the hall boomed out, one that had a familiar twang Will thought he recognized. In a moment, he walked in. “Will Tanner! What the hell are you doin’ here?”

  “Oscar Moon!” Will blurted at almost the same time. They were both speechless for a moment.

  “I’ll be damned . . .” Moon sputtered. “Dolly said she was wantin’ to cook up some of this beef for a wounded man, but she didn’t say it was you.”

  Will had to laugh. “I’ve been laid up in the bed so long, I reckon I don’t pay attention to what’s goin’ on around here. Dolly said she was expectin’ a fellow to bring her some beef, but she never called your name. I heard her go out in the yard when you showed up.” He chuckled again. “If I’d known that was you out there, I’da got my rifle and shot you, ’cause I know that cow was stolen.”

  Moon pretended he was insulted by the remark. “That poor cow wandered off from the herd. It had a lame foot and I was just lucky enough to save it from gettin’ et by some wolves.”

  Rena and Dolly watched the exchange between the two men, amazed that they knew each other. It was Dolly who spoke first in Moon’s defense. “Oscar’s right, Will, I’m sure he didn’t steal that cow and he is lucky that he finds a stray like that from time to time.” Her plea caused both men to laugh all the more.

  “Don’t worry,” Will told her. “We’ll be able to tell for sure after you cook some of it up. Stolen beef has a strong flavor that other beef don’t have.”

  “Now I know you two are just japing me,” Dolly said, realizing then that they were friends.

  “That’s a fact,” Moon said. “And it looks like things didn’t go the way you wanted ’em to after you left me down on that creek below the Kansas line. How bad are you hurt? It don’t look like it slowed you down none, settin’ up here at the table, drinkin’ coffee. Dolly said you got shot in the back with a shotgun.”

  “She did?” Will responded, trying to shoot a playful smirk in her direction. “Did she tell you who shot me?”

  “No, she didn’t. Was it that feller you were trailin’, that McCoy feller?”

  “Nope,” Will said, smiling when he saw Dolly scrunching her face up, embarrassed. “It was some gunslinger called Shotgun Plover that got the jump on me,” he said, unable to resist teasing Dolly. He went on then to tell Moon about tracking Preacher to Wichita and from there to this brothel-saloon here in El Dorado. When he reached the part where he got shot, Moon looked at Dolly as if unable to believe she did it. “When you shake it all out,” Will said when he had finished, “Preacher got away again and I’ve been holed up here tryin’ to get well enough to ride.”

  “I’ll swear . . .” Moon started, then only shook his head. “Whaddaya gonna do?” he finally asked.

  “I don’t know,” Will said. “I didn’t ride all the way up here from Fort Smith just to ride all the way back by myself. But I don’t know where to start lookin’. I don’t even know if he took off north, south, east, or west. When he rode outta the stable, I was flat on my belly, lookin’ at the parlor floor.”

  “Reckon he went back to Wichita?” Moon asked.

  “I don’t think he’d go back there, ’cause that’s where we picked up his trail before and found out what name he was usin’. No, I think he’ll light out for someplace where he can start all over and nobody knows him. So I figure that rules out Texas, where the Rangers are lookin’ for him, and Oklahoma, where I’m lookin’ for him. If I just knew what direction he started in, maybe I’d have half a chance to pick up his trail. So I reckon I’ll go talk to the fellow that owns the stable. What’s his name, again?” He aimed his question at Dolly.

  “Paul Perry,” Dolly answered.

  “Right,” Will continued. “I’ll go talk to him. Maybe he saw which way he rode outta town.”

  * * *

  Wi
ll left Moon and Rena to finish the preparations to dry the major portion of the cow he had delivered, while he walked down the street to the stable. He found Paul Perry mucking out one of the stalls. “Howdy,” Perry greeted him. “I reckon you’re the owner of that buckskin and the bay. I figured you’d show up pretty soon.” He propped his pitchfork against the side of the stall and walked out to meet him. “Looks like you’re recoverin’ pretty well after Dolly shot you.” He shook his head slowly. “That was a helluva thing about that feller, Pressley. He had us all fooled—thought he was gonna put El Dorado on the map.”

  “He’s fooled a lotta folks everywhere he’s been, I reckon,” Will said. “Maybe you can help me a little. Is he still ridin’ that black horse?” Perry said that he was and that he had a sorrel he was using as a packhorse. Knowing there wasn’t much in the packs, that left a possibility that Preacher might seek out a place to buy the supplies he would need, if he was planning to travel far. “What’s the closest place where he could buy supplies?”

  “Right here,” Paul said. “I expect he could get anything he needs at the general store.” Then he thought about what he had just said. “I reckon he was in too big a hurry to get outta town to do that.” He paused to recollect. “I reckon the closest place would be back at Wichita, thirty miles, and he rode out that way when he left here.” That was going to be Will’s next question. Preacher appeared to be heading back to Wichita, but Will still didn’t think Preacher would return to that town and expressed that opinion. Perry thought a moment longer, then suggested, “He coulda gone to a little tradin’ post about three miles north of Wichita on the Arkansas River. Feller by the name of Calvin Green owns it.”

  Well, that’s something, Will thought, immediately discarding any notions of returning to Fort Smith without Preacher. It’s a long shot, but it’s somewhere to start. If Preacher was concerned about being followed, he would change directions as soon as he was out of sight of the town and he would try to disguise his trail after that. But Will believed Preacher was not in fear of that. According to Rena and Dolly, Preacher believed that Will was dead. “I ’preciate your help, Mr. Perry. I reckon I’ll get my horses in the mornin’ and I’ll settle up with you then.” He knew Rena would strongly insist that he was not recovered enough to leave, but he felt he couldn’t wait any longer. And if push had come to shove, he figured he could have started today, so he would surely be ready tomorrow.

  Back at the Palace, he found Dolly and Moon, with help from Angel, laying out the cuts of meat to be smoked. When he told them he planned to leave in the morning, Moon was quick to volunteer to ride along with him. “Suit yourself,” Will said to him. “Are you sure you can tear yourself away from your busy schedule?”

  Moon grinned in response. “I’ll check my calendar, but I don’t think I’ve got any important appointments in the next few days. I’ll go along with you for a couple of drinks of corn likker. Whaddaya say? Ain’t nobody better’n me at trackin’ . . . Couple of shots of corn likker,” he repeated, “that’s my price.”

  “All right,” Will said. He figured he might need his help with the trackin’ before he caught up with Preacher again.

  “Where are we headin’?” Moon asked. Will told him about the trading post Perry mentioned and Moon nodded. “Calvin Green’s store, I know him. He’s an honest man.” Will wondered again if there was anyone in the whole of western Kansas and Oklahoma who knew more people than Oscar Moon, or the territory itself. He was glad he wanted to ride with him.

  As he had expected, Rena thought it a bad idea to start out on what could be a long trek at this stage of his recovery. She made one attempt to reason with him to allow at least two more days before leaving. But she quit trying when she was met with the same stone face encountered by Sophie Bennett when she had complained about his leaving town again so soon after having been away so long. “Well, if you find out you need a place to heal up after all, you can always come back here. I think we owe you that. Ain’t that right, Dolly?”

  “Sure is,” Dolly was quick to reply. “We owe you that, at least I do.”

  “’Preciate it,” Will said, “but I think I’m ready to go.” He looked at Moon. “Sunup tomorrow, right?”

  Moon shrugged. “How ’bout in the mornin’ after breakfast? You don’t get many chances to eat like you do at Rena Peters’s table.”

  “I reckon you’re right,” Will conceded, “tomorrow after breakfast then.”

  Rena nodded her approval. “At least, I can get a little more of that good beef in your system.”

  CHAPTER 14

  The good-byes the next morning were brief with an invitation to Will to make sure to stop in to see them, if he was ever back that way. One final time, Dolly asked and received Will’s forgiveness for shooting him in the back. Then Will and Moon went down the street to the stable to get Will’s horses.

  There was little information to be gotten from Paul Perry regarding Preacher’s destination when he had left town on the night of his escape. Perry pointed in the direction he remembered Preacher had ridden from his stable. Even though it was dark by that time, he felt sure Preacher had headed to the left of the single oak tree standing on a knoll about fifty yards behind the stable. Will settled his bill with Perry, then he and Moon rode to the tree pointed out to look for tracks, knowing they would be pretty old by now. They figured it highly unlikely there would be tracks left by anyone else on the same spot, so they might at least determine the direction Preacher started out in. “Looks like Paul was right,” Moon said after a brief look around the tree. “He rode out this way.” They followed what tracks they could find and all of them were consistently in the same direction, leading Moon to speculate, “Looks to me like he sure as hell headed back toward Wichita. Maybe we can track him enough to see if he changes his direction.”

  “I reckon so,” Will agreed, still thinking that Preacher would avoid the town. “I’m thinkin’ about that place you talked about outside of town. I think Preacher might need supplies if he’s plannin’ to put a lotta distance between him and Wichita. If he knows about that store north of town, that might be where he’d go to get what he needs. So far, it looks that way because he’s headin’ straight west and if he stays on this line, it’s hard to say exactly where he’d most likely strike the Arkansas River. That’s about thirty miles from here, but he might strike it somewhere within a few miles north of Wichita.”

  “I can’t disagree,” Moon said. “You’re thinkin’ don’t waste time tryin’ to follow his trail, just ride on to Green’s Store?”

  “That’s what I’m thinkin’,” Will replied, thinking that would be the logical thing to do.

  * * *

  “Well, I’ll be damned . . . Oscar Moon,” Calvin Green blurted when he saw the two men tying their horses at the hitching rail in front of his store. He walked out to greet them. “Howdy, Moon, ain’t seen you in I don’t know when. Who’s this you got with you?” he asked as he looked over the rangy younger man riding the buckskin horse.

  “Calvin,” Moon returned the greeting. “This here’s U.S. Deputy Marshal Will Tanner,” he announced.

  “Deputy marshal?” Green questioned. “Are you under arrest?” He was not joking. As Green was well aware of Moon’s tendency to walk a line between what was lawful and what was not, it seemed a natural assumption.

  “Hell, no,” Moon quickly responded, pretending to be offended. “Me and Will’s friends. I’m helpin’ him track down an outlaw and we figure he mighta stopped here a while back.”

  Green stepped forward and offered Will his hand. “Welcome to my store . . . Deputy. Tanner, was it?”

  “That’s right,” Will said. “I’m hopin’ you can help us out a little. I’m lookin’ for a big fellow ridin’ a black horse and leadin’ a sorrel packhorse. I’m thinkin’ he mighta needed some supplies.”

  “Yes, sir, he was here, all right, bought a right smart load for that packhorse, and didn’t fuss about the price of anything,” Green sa
id, and gave a little appreciative shake of his head as he recalled the order. “Now, are you sayin’ that fellow was an outlaw?”

  “That’s a fact,” Will answered. “His name’s Preacher McCoy. He’s wanted for murder and robbin’ a bank in Sherman, Texas, and anything you can tell us about him, where he’s goin’, or anything else, I’d appreciate it.”

  “Dang,” Green responded, stroking his chin as he tried to recall. “There ain’t much I can tell you about him. He showed up one day, bought a load of supplies, and left, said he had a long ride ahead of him. That was all. He didn’t seem to be in a talkative mood.”

  Will was not surprised. He hadn’t expected to get much information from the store owner, but at least he was glad to know his impulse to ride straight to Green’s Store had been a time-saver. “Which way was he headin’ when he left here?”

  “He crossed the river, headin’ west,” Green replied.

  “I reckon we’ll be headin’ that way, too, as soon as we rest the horses,” Will said.

  “You got any of that corn likker you used to sell?” Moon asked Green. He cut his eyes over at Will. “That ride over here this mornin’ musta riled up my rheumatiz. It’s painin’ me some. A couple of shots of that whiskey always eases it a little, so I reckon I’ll have that drink you promised me now.”

  “I never thought about how hard a ride like that can be on a man your age,” Will japed. “Maybe I’d best leave you here in Wichita while I ride on alone. How ’bout it, Mr. Green, have you got any of that corn whiskey?”

  “I sure do,” Green said.

  “Well, give us a couple of drinks before we go take care of our horses and I need a sack of oats. Buster’s most likely gonna need some before we’re done,” Will said.