Evil Never Sleeps

by William W. Johnstone

  “I’ll have to sell you ajar of whiskey,” Green said. “I ain’t got a saloon inside. I don’t sell it by the drink.”

  Will did not miss the smile on Moon’s face. “I got a feelin’ you knew that,” he said to him. He paid Green for the whiskey and the oats and added a sack of coffee beans to the order, since there would have to be enough for two now that he had a partner.

  After leaving Green, they crossed the river before resting the horses. Will wanted to scout the other side for evidence of Preacher’s tracks and he figured he could do that while the horses were watered. Moon was quick to open the jar Will had bought and sample its contents. After a couple of snorts, he offered it to Will. After Will declined, he put it away and started gathering wood for a fire to roast some of the ample quantity of smoked beef he had supplied. When the fire had caught up enough to let him put on larger pieces of wood, he added some, then went over to the bank where Will had found hoofprints. “I can’t say for sure,” Will said. “These tracks have been here for a while, but I’d bet they’re Preacher’s. It looks to me like two horses came outta the river right here and they’re in about the right spot to be on a line to Green’s Store.”

  Moon agreed and turned to line up the direction the tracks started in when they left the river. “If he keeps up in that direction, he’ll be headin’ back toward Oklahoma.”

  “I didn’t think he’d go back there,” Will said. “Maybe they ain’t Preacher’s tracks.” They had to be, however, they were the only tracks they found on that side of the river. “Who else could it be? We’ll just follow those tracks and see where they go.” With that settled, they went back by the fire and ate some of their smoked beef, and washed it down with some strong coffee. When the horses were rested, they climbed back into the saddle and started out after Preacher again.

  They had not ridden far when they realized the trail continued to turn toward the south as if Preacher had just planned to ride around Wichita. Late afternoon found them about twenty miles from Green’s Store when they struck what appeared to be a well-used wagon road, running east and west. The tracks they had followed disappeared on the other side of the road. “He’s headin’ to Dodge City,” Moon suddenly realized. “This here’s the road to Dodge!” Since there were no tracks across the road to dispute it, Will had to agree that Preacher had turned onto the road. To be sure, they rode on opposite sides of the road for about five miles in case Preacher turned off again. “He’s goin’ to Dodge City,” Moon declared for certain. “Hell, that’s about a hundred and fifty miles from here.”

  “Looks that way,” Will agreed. “You sure you wanna keep goin’?”

  “Hell, I ain’t got nothin’ else to do,” Moon replied.

  “All right,” Will said. “So I reckon we’d best find a place to camp before we wear the horses out. That little creek up ahead looks like it might do.” When they reached the creek, they turned the horses upstream and rode along the bank until they found a spot that pleased them.

  Starting before breakfast the next morning, they set their horses at an easy, but steady pace, no longer concerning themselves with trying to follow Preacher’s tracks. The road had been traveled enough to make it hard to determine one horse’s tracks from another. They were going with what seemed to be the most likely gamble. Preacher probably figured he could blend in with the lawless crowd in Dodge City, so it made sense that he might go there. They didn’t stop to rest the horses and cook their breakfast until reaching the South Fork of the Ninnescah River. On the hope he might be lucky, Will scouted the area they stopped in to see if he could find any signs that Preacher had stopped there, too. But there were no tracks except those left by some deer. In the saddle again, they went back on the road, which followed the river for approximately thirty miles before it veered slightly away from it. By then, the horses were showing signs of fatigue again, so when they came to a small creek, they decided to make camp there. Moon figured they were still a day and a half from Dodge City.

  Once the horses were taken care of and a healthy campfire was blazing, they cooked their supper and relaxed while they ate. Moon complained about his rheumatiz again and sought some corn medicine to soothe it. Feeling a stinging stiffness in his back from the shotgun wounds he was still recovering from, Will took a couple of drinks from the jar when Moon offered it. “I reckon I could have telegraphed Dan Stone before we left Wichita,” he thought aloud. “He’s already put out with me for not lettin’ him know what I’m up to.”

  “I reckon you can wire him when we get to Dodge City,” Moon said.

  “Yeah, I reckon,” Will said, but his mind was already working on things unrelated to the job at hand. He had already been gone from Fort Smith a long time and he was thinking about Sophie’s last words before he left. If you don’t come back, I’ll know why. She had said it in the form of an ultimatum and he interpreted it to mean just that. If he changed his mind about wanting to marry her, don’t come back. Remembering her kiss, he knew there was no question. He would be back, no matter what. “What?” he said, just then realizing that Moon was talking to him.

  “Damn, I thought you’d gone to sleep with your eyes open,” Moon said. “I asked you if you wanted another snort of this whiskey.”

  “No, thanks,” Will replied. “I think I’ll take a look around while there’s still a little light left, ease my back from sittin’ in the saddle all day.” He got up and began to scout their campsite as he had done when they had stopped before. And, as before, there was no evidence of anyone else having stopped there. For no reason, other than trying to free his mind of thoughts of Sophie, he walked back to the wagon road. Crossing the creek, he walked on for a few yards before coming to what he figured to be a game trail, leaving the road to the south. He turned about, preparing to return to the camp, since the light was now rapidly fading, but something caught his eye. He paused, then decided to satisfy his curiosity with a closer look. Two steps onto the game trail, he discovered the faint mark on the ground that had attracted his attention was, in fact, a clear imprint of a horse’s hoof. He considered the possibility that this might be an old Indian trail, as he pushed through the bushes on either side of the trail to come to a low spot where water no doubt seeped from the creek. In the soft dirt there, he found more tracks, clearly from shod horses, and not Indian ponies. “Moon!” he yelled, knowing that as soon as the sun dropped below the horizon, it would be totally dark. “Bring a light!”

  Moon sat up straight, looking all around him, startled by Will’s call. His first reaction was to grab his rifle until he heard Will say to bring a light. He knew what he meant then, so he took a stick of wood that was flaming brightly from the fire. “Where the hell are you?” he called back and Will told him where he was. In a couple of minutes, he saw him standing at the head of the game trail. “What’d you find?” Moon asked, blowing on his torch to keep it from dying out.

  “Take a look,” Will said, “tracks, shod horses.”

  “Damned if they ain’t,” Moon exclaimed. He knelt down to take a closer look, having only moments before the flame on the limb he had chosen for a torch died out, leaving only a streamer of smoke behind. “Might be the tracks we’ve been followin’—hard to say. We can take a better look in the mornin’ when we got some light. Could be that feller we’re followin’ mighta camped here, too, and just rode down this trail to find him a good spot.”

  Those were the same thoughts going through Will’s mind. “If they are Preacher’s tracks, and they keep followin’ this trail, then he’s sure as hell not goin’ to Dodge City. This trail is headin’ straight south.”

  “Don’t make much sense, does it?” Moon replied. “I’da thought he was headin’ for Dodge. If he keeps on in this direction, he’ll wind up back in Injun Territory.”

  “Well, I reckon we’ll see what’s what in the mornin’,” Will said. “We can’t see much standin’ out here in the dark.” They returned to the campfire and the coffeepot.

  After finishing
the coffee, both men lay propped up on one elbow, each in deep thought, with no more than an occasional word of conversation between them. After a while, it was Will who spoke first. “I’m beginnin’ to wonder if we ain’t off on a wild goose chase, and find out when we get there, we’ve been followin’ some cowhand ridin’ the grub line, lookin’ for work.”

  “Might be,” Moon said. He had been doing some heavy thinking, figuring out about exactly where they were between Wichita and Dodge City. Unlike Will, he had traveled this part of the country more times than he could remember and feeling sure he knew where they were now, he expressed his conclusion. “That trail is an old Injun trail that heads straight south into Injun Territory. I have an idea those tracks belong to Preacher and I know where he’s headin’.” His statement captured Will’s attention, causing him to sit up to listen. “If I’m right, that feller is headin’ to a cabin about twenty miles below the Kansas line, settin’ in a pocket of oak trees on the Cimarron River. It ain’t far from a hilly place that’s full of caves and tunnels with colored rocks on the inside. Some outlaws from Texas built it a few years back and there’s somebody there from time to time. I never stopped by when there was somebody there, but the last time I was over that way it was empty. I don’t think any lawmen on either side of the line know about that place.” He paused to ask, “Did you know about it?” Will shook his head. “Like I said,” he went on. “Too many people has found out about Sartain’s—this’un’s still a good place to go, if you’re hidin’ out.”

  * * *

  Up at sunup the next morning, they saddled the horses and loaded their packhorses, waiting for the sun to get up high enough to afford a little light. When it was enough, they returned to examine the tracks Will had found the night before. It was not difficult to determine the tracks were left by more than one horse, with two being the best estimate. After there were no indications that the rider had been looking for a place to camp, but continued following the narrow trail straight south, Will and Moon paused to talk it over. “I think it’s your man,” Moon stated. “It makes sense to me now. He wants to hide out to give the law a chance to get tired of lookin’ for him. Then he can go wherever he wants. If I was in his shoes, and I knew you were comin’ after me, that’s what I’d do.”

  “Accordin’ to what Rena told me,” Will replied, “Preacher thinks I’m dead.”

  “Yeah, but the Kansas marshals and the Oklahoma marshals ain’t dead, so he’s worried about them now.”

  “You’re probably right,” Will said, but he had to think it over for a few minutes before he could decide for sure. It made sense, but the night before, it made sense that Preacher would head for Dodge City. It was a gamble either way, but Oscar seemed convinced they were on Preacher’s trail. “All right,” he decided, “let’s follow this trail to the Cimarron and see what we find in that cabin.” He figured that at least these tracks were something to bet on, whereas going to Dodge City would just be wagering on a hunch, since there were too many tracks to identify any one particular horse. The tracks were old, but it had been some time since Preacher had fled, so his tracks would be about as old as these. And in some parts of the trail they disappeared altogether, but always reappeared farther along, leading them straight south. According to Moon, the distance to the Cimarron was about the same as it would have been to Dodge City, one long day, or one and a half, if they didn’t want to push the horses too much. They agreed that it was about fifty miles to the Oklahoma line, so Will decided it would be better to ride that distance on this day. That would leave them no more than twenty miles to the Cimarron, if Moon remembered correctly. Will preferred to reach the cabin early in the day to get a chance to look the situation over.

  “You’re the boss,” Moon responded. “That’ll put the Medicine Lodge River at the halfway point between here and the line.”

  As Moon had predicted, they arrived at the Medicine Lodge River after what Will estimated to be close to twenty-five miles. They rested the horses there, then crossed the shallow river to find there were no longer any tracks to follow. Some time was spent searching for Preacher’s point of exit from the water, but to no avail. “Looks like he finally decided it’d be a good idea to hide his trail,” Moon commented. “And he done a pretty good job of it.” They talked it over for only a few seconds, but Will decided they were so close they might as well continue on to the cabin. Moon agreed, convinced it was no coincidence Preacher had ridden almost straight to the cabin. So they pushed on south until striking the Salt Fork of the Arkansas at a point Moon knew to be only a few miles north of the boundary between Kansas and Oklahoma. “I ain’t dead sure exactly where the line is,” he said. “Ain’t nobody put up a sign, or built a fence.” He chuckled in appreciation of his remark.

  Will made no response to Moon’s attempt to be humorous, his immediate attention having been captured by the remains of a campfire hidden behind a hedge of laurel bushes. “Take a look at this,” he called to Moon. “Somebody went to a lot of trouble to hide their camp.”

  Moon came over to inspect it with him. After a brief search, he discovered tracks leading to the ashes. “There’s tracks here,” he said. “But they’re headin’ north. Must not be our man. Wait a minute,” he bellowed then. “I found some more tracks and they’re headin’ south.”

  “Comin’ and goin’,” Will remarked. “Most likely not our man, since we lost his tracks back at the Medicine Lodge River. How far you figure it is from here to that cabin?”

  “Half a day’s ride,” Moon answered.

  “Well, let’s get started then.”

  The country they rode through for the last half day of their journey was rugged and harsh, with many small ridges and draws. And as they approached the Cimarron River, Moon pulled up to get his bearings. After a few moments, he pointed to his left. “That way,” he said, and led out along the bank of the river.

  * * *

  It was close to midday when Moon reined his horse to a stop, raised his hand, and signaled to Will to come up beside him. “You see that place up ahead, where the river takes a turn?” He pointed to a sharp bend with a thick stand of trees on both banks. “About fifty yards around that bend is where that cabin sets. And the best way to get a look at what’s what there is for us to swing out around those trees till we ride past the cabin and tie our horses in the trees. Then to get a close look, we’d best go on foot to see if there’s anybody there.” Will didn’t question it, just nodded and motioned for Moon to lead out.

  As Moon had suggested, they rode a wide circle around the river bend, keeping the screen of oak trees between them and the river. By the time they turned to enter the oaks, they found themselves about one hundred and fifty yards below the cabin, which they could see through the trees when the breeze moved the branches aside. They tied the horses where they were not likely to be seen, then worked their way in closer to the cabin until they were close enough to see it. Will understood then why it was so hard to see from any distance. Built of logs with a sod roof, the back of it was jammed right up against the almost vertical slope of a rugged draw and sat on a low rock ledge. The front of the cabin required three steps up to the porch to make the floor level. A stone chimney rose at the back of the cabin and there was a stone fire pit outside for use when the weather permitted. There was no sign of anyone outside, but there was smoke coming from the chimney.

  Will felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see Moon pointing to the far side of the cabin. Looking in that direction, he saw what had caught Moon’s eye. A horse came from the trees behind the cabin and walked down to the edge of the river. In a few minutes, another horse appeared and was soon followed by several others. This was not good news, for it meant that Preacher, if he was here, was not alone. Suddenly, Will grew tense when a dark black horse followed the others to the water. There could only be one horse like that. “Lookee yonder!” Moon whispered, and pointed. “Right there! Is that that blue roan you been chasin’?”

  “Looks like it to
me,” Will said. There was little doubt in his mind. Now it was a question of who else was in the cabin, so he thought it only fair to discuss his intentions with Moon. While they watched, a few more horses came down to the water’s edge. “I count ten horses,” he said. “You see any more?” Moon said that was the same number he came up with. “I need to see how many there are in that cabin,” Will said. “I know Preacher was leadin’ one packhorse, so that still leaves eight horses and could mean eight riders, or one or two riders with a string of horses. And I can’t do much about arrestin’ Preacher till I find out how many I’ve got to deal with. The way I figure it is I can’t do anything until I wait ’em out a little while and get a chance to see just what I’m up against. And that might take a while.”

  “Looks to me like two, maybe three saddles stacked on that little porch,” Moon said. “It must be pretty crowded inside that cabin. Might be more saddles inside, though.”

  “Might be,” Will said.

  “You figure to just set on ’em awhile then, right?” Moon asked, repeating what Will had just said.

  “Reckon so,” Will replied. “And I reckon you’ve done your part in this party. You led me to ol’ Preacher, so now you might wanna back on outta here before any shootin’ gets started.”

  “Well, if that ain’t a helluva note,” Moon replied at once. “You think I’d take off and leave you to take on however many outlaws there are in that cabin?”

  “I’m just sayin’ it ain’t your responsibility to fight ’em and I didn’t bring you along to get yourself shot tryin’ to help me. I ain’t gonna take any chances if there’s too many for me to handle. I might just have to wait till I can catch Preacher by himself sometime.” He was certain that he saw a genuine hurt in Moon’s eyes. “You saved my bacon once already in that saloon in Delano,” he went on. “I don’t wanna put you in the way of a bunch of gun-slingin’ outlaws.”