Will Tanner

by William W. Johnstone

  Unaware of the gradually growing gap between him and the two Tarbow brothers behind him, Blanton rode into the mouth of the narrow ravine. He pulled his horse to a complete stop when he looked toward the tree where Pride’s body was still hanging, but there was no sign of Jesse Becker. He wheeled his horse around to declare his concern, only then to find he was about forty yards ahead of them. “He’s gone!” he called back. “Jesse ain’t here!” The thought struck him at that moment that Max and Billy were hanging back for a reason, so he drew his rifle from the saddle scabbard and wheeled his horse back around to face whatever threat they anticipated. A single shot rang out from the ravine, knocking him from the saddle, mortally wounded.

  “I thought so!” Max bellowed. He and Billy both had their rifles drawn right after Tom first called out the warning, but they were not sure where the shot had come from. “The wagon!” he yelled then, thinking that the likely place, and the two of them started firing toward the wagon as fast as they could. Rapid return fire snapped like angry hornets all around them, first from a Winchester, then from a Spencer. “Run for it!” Max shouted as he wheeled his horse, not waiting to see if Billy did the same.

  “What about Tom?” Billy yelled.

  “To hell with him!” Max shouted back. “He’s dead! Save your own ass!” Flogging his horse relentlessly for more speed, he galloped back the way he had just come, with Billy following. He didn’t have to see a body to know that Jesse was dead, and now Tom. This demon lawman had killed all but Billy and him, and it was damn apparent that he wasn’t interested in arresting anybody—he was an assassin. As his horse began to falter, he looked back over his shoulder, expecting to see someone in pursuit. He could see no one behind Billy, whose horse was showing signs of fading as well. Reluctant to let up on them, but knowing they would be in worse shape if their horses failed, Max finally reined his back when they reached a particularly steep part of the trail. He and Billy stepped down, looking anxiously behind them.

  “I don’t see nobody yet,” Billy exclaimed breathlessly as they walked as fast as they could while leading the horses. “You reckon there’s more ’n just one man? Some of them shots came from a different rifle—like a Spencer.”

  “Maybe,” Max said. “Maybe just one man with two rifles. I don’t know.”

  “You think we oughta stop up the trail a ways, find us a good spot, and ambush him?” Billy asked. “Hell, there’s still two of us, and one of him.”

  “I still ain’t sure he ain’t got some help somewhere,” Max said, worried. “Might be one of those Injun policemen with him. We’d be better off gettin’ to the cabin, right now. Can’t nobody come up that trail without us seein’ ’em. Then we’ll decide what we’re gonna do.”

  * * *

  Behind the two outlaw brothers, Will admonished himself for springing the trap too soon, but he hadn’t seen that he had much choice. He had not counted on two of the outlaws lagging so far behind the other. And when they turned to run, he had to take the only good shot he had. With his horses back in the clearing so far behind him, he couldn’t get to Buster before the two men would have a considerable lead. He was not overly eager to chase recklessly up that narrow mountain trail, anyway, only to blunder into an ambush. His best bet to finish the task he was sworn to do was to wait until darkness, so he could move in close to that cabin and look for an opportunity to strike again.

  Since it was not even noon yet, he figured he could go up the backside of the ridge again and return to the ledge above the falls, where he could keep an eye on the cabin. Although he could not move directly on the cabin until he had the cover of darkness, he might get a chance to take a shot from up above them. But there was one obligation he had that he should satisfy now, while he had time to do it. He silently apologized to Pride for leaving him swinging at the end of a rope for so long. “I can at least put you and Charlie in the ground,” he said aloud. Before starting to dig, however, he brought the horses up to the wagon in case he was surprised before he completed the burial and had to make a run for it.

  It would be a hell of a job to pick the huge deputy up and lay him across the saddle. So Will decided to dig his grave right under the tree, instead of moving the body somewhere else. He untied the rope from the limb Tarbow’s men had secured the free end around. It was a hard knot, but he soon got it untied, and lowered the already stiffened body as gently as he could to the ground. Fortunately, Tarbow’s men had no use for Charlie’s shovel, for it was still in the wagon, so at least he had that. He would have to do without a pick. Aware of the time this grave digging would cost him, he nevertheless felt he owed Pride and Charlie a decent burial, and he figured now might be the only opportunity he had. He couldn’t predict what might happen on the next encounter with the notorious brothers. He was certain that the two remaining outlaws were, in fact, the Tarbow brothers, this based on a simple process of elimination. None of the men killed so far fit the description of Max, with the heavy beard and the eye patch. Likewise, none fit the description of Billy, the slighter of the two, with a total absence of hair on his face or head.

  He began digging the grave right beside Pride’s body, working away at the hard ground with his shovel. It was slow going without a pick to break up the heavier areas, but he did have the ax to cut away the roots he ran into. Halfway through his task, he was suddenly startled by a sound in the trees behind him, causing him to drop the shovel and snatch up his rifle. It was only Blanton’s horse returning after having bolted when the shooting started before. Will tied the horse with the others, then went back to his work, stopping often to look around him for uninvited visitors. When he was finished, he had a single grave, wide enough to accommodate both men. A thought struck him as he worked. You might be the only deputy to take your cook with you to hell, or wherever you end up. Then it occurred to him that Pride and Charlie were probably getting a helluva hoot watching him struggle with that hard ground.

  When he had finally finished digging a hole he felt suitable, he removed the badge from Pride’s underwear, where his killers had pinned it after ripping his shirt away. Then he rolled Pride’s body over the edge to drop to the bottom of the shallow grave. Charlie was not the challenge Pride had been. A man slight of built, Charlie’s stiffened body was easily propped up so Will could get a shoulder under him and carry him to the grave, where he took his place beside Pride. Will then went to work filling in the grave. “That’s about the best I can do for you, boys,” he said in parting. He was certain there was a hell of a lot more he could have learned had he been given more time to ride with the big deputy. But there was a good bit he had picked up in the short time he had known him. Anxious to be done with this bad-luck camp now, he gathered the extra weapons and ammunition from the two dead outlaws and loaded them on the roan and the sorrel that Tom Blanton had ridden. Stepping up into the saddle then, he turned Buster toward the trail he had ridden before, up the backside of the ridge.

  * * *

  “Whaddaya wanna do, Max?” Billy fretted as they finally led their spent horses into the clearing by the pond. “You reckon he’s comin’ after us? Whaddaya think we oughta do, hole up in the cabin and wait for him?” Max had always told Billy what to do, and he needed to be told what to do now. “He mighta got some of them Injun policemen to come help him, them Lighthorse Injuns. How’d them deputies know we was up here in the first place? You reckon that damn Lem Stark told them we was up here?”

  “Damn it, Billy, shut up a minute!” Max bellowed. “I can’t think with you runnin’ your mouth like that.”

  “Well, we need to be doin’ somethin’ before that deputy shows up here,” Billy persisted. “I thought when we killed that big ’un that’d be the end of them lawmen snoopin’ around. And we ain’t even laid eyes on the son of a bitch that’s killed off ever’body but me and you.”

  “Ain’t nothin’ special about him,” Max said. “He’s just like every other lawman that’s tried to run us to ground. He just had a little luck go his way
.” His statement was primarily for Billy’s benefit, to try to calm his brother down. But truthfully, he was a little worried about the unseen deputy, who had methodically reduced his gang down to Billy and him. He wasn’t sure he liked the idea of being holed up in the tiny cabin, afraid to venture outside in the daylight. He lifted the patch over his left eye and rubbed the empty socket while he thought about their situation. “Right now, let’s get these horses watered and put ’em in the corral.” He couldn’t escape the feeling that he was being watched by several sets of eyes around them in the trees, even though his common sense told him that they’d be shooting at them if that was the case. He had never been really spooked before, but there was something unnatural about this lawman tightening his noose around them. He wasn’t a lawman like the others. He was an assassin, plain and simple. And nobody but a damn fool would wait around here until he comes after you, he told himself.

  Too impatient to wait for his brother to think, Billy pressed for an answer. “What are we gonna do, Max?”

  “I’m thinkin’ Injun Territory ain’t a healthy place for us right now,” Max finally decided. “Them damn marshals and the Injun police have got to workin’ together too much, and now ever’ one of ’em knows about this hideout, so we ain’t safe here no more. So we’re gonna get outta here before they have a chance to trap us up here on this mountain.”

  That sounded good to Billy. “Yeah, Max, that’s what we’ll do. Let’s get outta here before they surround us.” He stopped to think then. “Where we gonna go, Max, farther west?”

  “There ain’t nothin’ west of here, unless you wanna live like an Injun,” Max said. “No, the best place for us is to go back to Texas where them marshals outta Fort Smith can’t touch us. We can ride straight south from here about fifty miles and strike the Red River. Cross that, and we’re in Texas, and good-bye, deputy marshals and Injun police.”

  “Yeah, but what about the Texas Rangers?” Billy asked. “They just chased us out of Texas.”

  “That’s the reason we’ll be better off in Texas,” Max said. “The Texas Rangers think they chased us on up into Injun Territory, and that would be the last they’d see of us. They’ll figure we’re the marshals’ problem now.” The more he thought about it, the more he convinced himself that it was the smart thing to do. “What we gotta do right now is load them packhorses and get the hell outta here before dark. We’ll go around this mountain till we find a good place to go down. Once we get to the valley, we’ll head south and be long gone while that deputy and his Injuns are sneakin’ around this cabin. I’m thinkin’ we oughta strike the Red not too far from Mendoza’s place,” he said, referring to a small trading post on the river that was a favorite outlaw hangout. “Mendoza will know if there’s any Ranger business goin’ on around there. We can lay up there for a while till we decide what we wanna do.” In an attempt to break the tenseness of their situation and appear confident, he gave Billy a wink and said, “Ol’ Mendoza will be glad to help us spend some of that bank money.”

  “I expect so,” Billy responded with a weak grin.

  They wasted no time in packing up, taking only what they thought they couldn’t do without from the ample supplies they had packed in on three horses. The first thing they did was switch their saddles from the two horses they had worn out in their forced escape up the mountain. In the event it came down to having to make a run for it, Max didn’t want to risk having to try it on two spent horses. Since they still had eight horses, counting Fletcher Pride’s dun, they loaded the fresh horses the heaviest, with light loads for the other two. As soon as they were loaded and ready to go, they led the horses up the ridge that formed one side of the gulch where the cabin was nestled. Over the top, they descended halfway around the mountain toward a deep ravine that looked as if it would lead all the way down to the valley. Once they reached the ravine with no shots fired at them, they felt they had successfully made their escape.

  CHAPTER 7

  There were many thoughts running through Will Tanner’s mind as he guided Buster up the narrow game trail beside the stream. Most of them were troubling. He had become little more than a government assassin, a role he wasn’t comfortable with, but he could not honestly say that he had been given a choice. There were now only two of the Tarbow gang left alive, and he had made a solemn commitment to Pride’s spirit that he would kill them all. Now he questioned his right to do so. When he had accepted his appointment to enforce the law, it was with the understanding that he would make every attempt to bring a criminal to justice. And that meant taking them in to stand trial for their transgressions. After all that had happened on this ill-fated assignment, he was not certain that he would not be requested to turn his badge in—if he ever did return to Fort Smith. As soon as he had that thought, he knew he was obligated to go back to tell Marshal Stone what had happened to Pride and Charlie. He also knew that he had to decide if he wanted to continue working as a deputy marshal if Stone gave him that option. Max and Billy Tarbow were the leaders of the Texas gang that had staged a series of bank robberies. Arresting them would serve to show other outlaws that their lawlessness would not be tolerated if the Tarbows were tried and sentenced to hang. Finally, he gave in to his conscience and told himself, I’ll arrest them if I can, and I hope Pride will understand.

  He continued up the backside of the ridge to the point where he had crossed over the night before, when he had shot Whip Doolin. The sun was already getting low in the sky. Soon it would drop below the mountaintops. It was unfortunate that he had taken so long to reach the cabin, but he had felt that he had to bury Pride and Charlie, because he was not sure when he would be able to return to do it. Now anxious to take advantage of what daylight he had left, he tied his horses in the trees as before, and made his way down close to the clearing where the cabin sat.

  When he reached the position where he had fired the fatal shot at Doolin, he paused to look the clearing over. He knew at once that they had fled. There were no horses in the corral and the cabin sat deserted. Even so, he had to make sure it was not a trap, waiting for him to spring it. They could have hidden the horses and were waiting in ambush in the trees beyond the pond. Only one way to find out, he thought, even though his gut told him they were gone. He cranked a cartridge into the chamber of his rifle and made a dash for the cabin, ready to answer any shots fired. As he expected, there were none.

  He pulled the door open and stepped inside the one room of the cabin. In the middle of the dirt floor, there was a quantity of various supplies, scattered haphazardly. Sacks of dried beans, even some coffee beans, salt pork, salt, sugar, flour, lard, molasses—all left behind by the outlaws in their hurry to flee. He even found a frying pan and a small pot, but no coffeepot, which was the thing he needed most. Feeling certain that the outlaws had deserted the cabin, he walked outside and stood in the clearing for a few minutes, looking around him, wondering in which direction to start looking for a trail. He considered the possibility that they would come back, maybe hoping to catch him there, but he discarded the idea. If they had planned to come back, they would not have loaded up their supplies and taken the packhorses with them. And he felt sure they had loaded the horses, because of the state of the supplies left behind. The sacks and boxes were strewn this way and that and scattered about, as they would be if someone was hurriedly searching through them. They had brought in supplies for five men, planning to stay for some time, so it was not that unlikely that some would be discarded. Well, I appreciate it, he thought, because I’ve got nothing but half a sack of beef jerky. In addition to the supplies, he also had a generous amount of money that he found in the saddlebags of the two men he had shot that morning. It was obviously money stolen from the Texas banks, but he didn’t know how much, because there had been no time to count it.

  While there was still ample light, he went to the corral to see if he could determine in which direction the two outlaws set out. It was an easy trail to find, tracks of eight horses, all carrying a loa
d, and it started up a ridge where there had been no trail before. On foot, he followed the obvious trail up through the brush and trees to the top of the ridge. He stood for a few minutes, looking at the tracks leading down through the trees, before turning around to return to the cabin. Glancing up at the sky, he knew that soon there would not be enough light to follow the trail down through the thick forest. He would have to wait for morning, but he was not discouraged. He had time, for no matter how long it took, he promised himself that he would catch up with Max and Billy Tarbow.

  With food to cook for a change, he built a small fire in the ashes of the one the outlaws had made. There wasn’t time to soak the dried beans, but he cut some slices of salt pork and mixed up some flour, lard, and water in an attempt to come up with some version of pan biscuits. He never fancied himself as much of a cook, but he ate the doughy balls that resulted. After crushing some coffee beans between two rocks, he used the small pot to boil his coffee. It wasn’t much of a supper, but it beat another meal of jerky. When it was time to bed down for the night, he decided not to take any chances on a return of the Tarbow brothers, so he spread his bedroll near the back of the corral, where he could keep an eye on his horses. While he waited for sleep, his thoughts returned to the money he now carried in the saddlebags, and what he should do with it. He supposed the right thing to do was to give it to Stone and let him take the proper steps to return the money to the banks that lost it. He still had not counted it, but it was only part of the money stolen. Max and Billy had the rest. I’m going to use any of it I need to pursue those two, he thought. Whatever I’ve got left, I’ll turn in. With that settled, he went to sleep.

  * * *

  He was up with the first rays of sunlight that found their way through the branches of the trees behind the corral. He saddled all three horses and rigged up some crude packs for the two extra horses he had picked up, using some rope and the saddles that came with them. There was no telling where the trail he was set to follow would lead, or how long it would take, but he hoped to trade the extra saddles for pack saddles somewhere along the way. Once he was loaded up and satisfied that his makeshift packs would ride all right, he led Buster up the ridge to follow the trail he had found the night before.