Will Tanner

by William W. Johnstone

  “That’s all the money we have,” Winona pleaded. “We don’t have a safe.”

  Tarbow suddenly reached out and grabbed the collar of Winona’s dress with one hand and pulled her halfway across the counter. His other hand still held the pistol aimed at Wiley’s face. “Now you’re lyin’ to me,” he blurted in her face. “You think I’m that dumb? I’d just as soon rip your gizzard out as look atcha.”

  Wiley came out of his frightened stupor then. “Let her go!” he exclaimed. “Don’t hurt her! I’ll show you where the money is!”

  “That’s more like it,” Tarbow huffed. “You give me any more trouble and I swear I’ll kill the both of you.”

  “Don’t give him anything,” Winona cried, almost choking from his grip on her collar. “We’ve worked too hard for that money. We can’t stay in business without it.” Tarbow gave her a sharp crack across the side of her face for her protests, knocking her to the floor.

  “Don’t hurt her anymore,” Wiley cried out. “I’ll get you the money!”

  “Well, get it, then!” Tarbow demanded. “I ain’t gonna wait no longer.”

  “It’s in the house,” Wiley said, “in the bedroom. I’ll get it.”

  “We’ll all get it,” Tarbow said. “You lead the way.” He reached down and grasped the back of Winona’s dress and pulled her to her feet. “Come on, darlin’, we’re wastin’ daylight.” He herded the two of them into the bedroom, where he gave Wiley a shove that almost knocked him down. “Get it,” he commanded. Wiley went directly to the bed and pulled the sheets and blankets loose at one of the bottom corners. He reached between the mattress and the bedsprings and pulled out a bundle of money wrapped in a pillowcase. Tarbow’s eye lit up when he saw it. “Gimme it,” he said. “How much is in there? I ain’t got time to count it.”

  “Three hundred dollars,” Wiley said.

  Tarbow snatched the bundle from him and dropped it in the sack with the money from the cash drawer. “Now, what am I gonna do with you two? It’ll be a helluva lot easier if I put a bullet in both of you.”

  “Please,” Wiley pleaded. “You don’t have to do that. There ain’t nothing we can do to stop you. There ain’t any sheriff to go to. Just let us be and go on your way.”

  Tarbow studied the frantic couple for a few long moments before deciding. His decision was swayed heavily by the fact that a couple of gunshots might cause the blacksmith, or possibly the postmaster, to break out their weapons. “Come on,” he said, and herded them back into the store. “Fetch that spool of rope there under the shelf.” Wiley did as he was told. “Now, both of ya, set down there on the floor back to back.” When they did, he handed Wiley one end of the rope. “Hold on to that,” he said, then kicked the heavy spool over and started pulling rope from it, causing the spool to roll across the room until bumping into the wall. Then he started winding the rope he had pulled off around and around them, pinning their arms and hands tightly to their bodies. When he was satisfied that they were bound, helplessly unable to move, he took out the knife he had cut John Carver’s throat with and sawed the rope in two. He tied the one loose end around Winona’s ankles, so they could not loosen it to unwind their rope cocoon.

  When he was finished, he took a moment to admire his handiwork. “Well, it don’t look like you folks are goin’ anywhere anytime soon. I reckon I oughta tell you what a good time I had visitin’ with the folks of this fine little town, but I’d best be gettin’ along now.” Pleased with himself, he threw his head back and laughed. “Yessir, I had a fine time.” With that, he headed for the door, his bag of money in his hand.

  Out the door he strode, never seeing the backside of the shovel that caught him full in the face, leveling his nose and landing him flat on his back. Dazed, but not unconscious, he struggled to come to his senses, only to be driven back flat again with another blow with the shovel, this one with enough force to split the wooden handle and leave him out cold on the floor. Wasting no time, Will Tanner relieved the unconscious man of his gun belt. Then, while keeping an eye on the prone outlaw, he untied Winona’s ankles and began unwinding the rope. “You folks all right?” he asked as he unwound it.

  “I reckon we are now,” Wiley blurted gratefully, then concerned for his wife, he asked, “You all right, Winona?”

  “Yes,” she said. Looking wild-eyed at her rescuer then, she asked, “Who are you?”

  “My name’s Will Tanner, ma’am. I’m a U.S. Deputy Marshal out of Fort Smith, Arkansas. That man lyin’ over there is Max Tarbow. I’ve been chasin’ him from Indian Territory. He’s a robber and a murderer, and I’m just glad to find you folks alive.” He drew his knife then and proceeded to cut the rope he had unwound to that point. “I’m gonna need this rope to make sure Mr. Tarbow doesn’t jump up and run off. I’ll be right back to get you outta that mess.”

  He tied Tarbow hand and foot while the huge man was helpless to resist. Thinking it might be handy to have a lead rope on Tarbow’s bound wrists as well, he tied a fifteen-foot length securely to them. Once the outlaw was secure, Will finished unwinding the rope from around the trussed-up couple. “Mister,” Winona declared, “you’re the most welcome sight I’ve ever seen. That man is a monster.”

  “Yes, ma’am, he’s as bad as they come,” Will said. “I’m sorry I didn’t get here a little bit sooner, though. I stopped at the stable first.”

  The expression on his face caused Wiley to react. “Is John Carver all right?”

  “No, sir, I’m afraid not. Like I said, I wish I’da got here sooner. That feller at the stable, John Carver did you say? He’s dead. Tarbow done for him.” He refrained from describing the condition he found Carver in, with his throat cut and a hole in his gut.

  “John dead,” Wiley muttered, scarcely able to believe it. He continued to stare at the belligerent bully just now showing signs of life. “Whaddaya gonna do with him?” he asked.

  “Well, I’m aimin’ to take him back to Fort Smith to stand trial for murder and robbery, unless he gives me too much trouble and I have to shoot him.” That last part was for Tarbow’s benefit, since he appeared to be recovering his senses. Will could see him struggling against his bonds.

  “Why don’t you go ahead and shoot him now,” Winona suggested, to her husband’s surprise. “It wouldn’t be any different than shooting a mad dog,” she added.

  “I’ve thought about it,” Will answered truthfully. “But I reckon I’ll try to give Mr. Tarbow his day in court. If you had a sheriff or a judge here, I’d turn him over to ’em, but you ain’t, so I reckon he’s my problem to deal with.”

  Seth Polzer walked in then, having become aware of something going on at the store and noticing a couple more horses at the rail. He came to an abrupt stop when he saw the menacing Tarbow tied up in the middle of the doorway, his nose flattened and bleeding. “My word . . .” he gasped. “What happened?”

  “He tried to rob us,” Wiley said, clutching the bag of cash he had retrieved. “But he ran into Mr. . . .” He paused, looking at Will. “Who’d you say?”

  “Will Tanner.”

  “Right,” Wiley continued. “He ran into U.S. Deputy Marshal Will Tanner, here, and that’s as far as he got.”

  “Not before he killed John Carver, though,” Winona reminded her husband.

  “John?” Seth exclaimed. “My Lord . . . My Lord,” he whispered, finding it hard to believe. “John dead?” He shook his head slowly as he let it sink in. “And all of us sittin’ at the breakfast table with his killer.”

  Seth’s lament caused Wiley and Winona to reflect on the loss of their friend as well until Will decided he had lingered long enough. “It’s a long way from here to Fort Smith,” he said, “so I’d best get my prisoner on his horse and get a move on.”

  “That horse he’s ridin’ don’t belong to him,” Seth spoke up then. “That’s Lester Coble’s chestnut. I don’t know how that son of a bitch come by it. Scuse me, Winona.”

  “I hope Lester’s all right,” Winona said, ig
noring Seth’s loose tongue.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Will said. “He’s all right. His boy got shot in the shoulder, but he’s gonna be all right, too.” He had been thinking so hard on the problem of transporting Tarbow back to Fort Smith that it had slipped his mind that the outlaw had stolen Coble’s horse. He hadn’t been a deputy marshal long enough to know what the proper procedure was for problems like the ones he was facing here. I reckon I’ll make them up as I go, he decided. “You’re right about the horse,” he said to Seth. “So I’ll leave the horse here and Coble can pick him up next time he’s in town. You reckon you can take care of the stable?” Seth said he could. Will continued to work out the details. “There’s another horse in the stable. I’ll let my prisoner ride that one.”

  Wiley spoke up then. “Your prisoner bought all that stuff out there on that packhorse and didn’t pay the first penny for it, and I can’t stand the loss of all that.”

  “I was just comin’ to that,” Will lied, for he hadn’t thought about that, either. He was beginning to wish he had just shot Tarbow when he started out the door, then got on Buster and ridden away. He walked to the door and looked at the packhorse, then he looked back at the hulking outlaw still lying silent on the floor. He decided he would likely need the extra supplies. “Have you got the bill for all that?”

  “Right here on the counter,” Wiley answered. He picked it up and handed it to Will.

  “Mr. Tarbow will be glad to pay you what he owes,” Will said. He walked out the door and went directly to the chestnut sorrel at the rail. He searched through the saddlebags until he found a huge roll of money and counted out the amount owed Wiley. It’s a Texas bank’s money, he thought, but what the hell? Back inside he went, and handed the money to Wiley. “There you go, paid in full. Now I’ll go swap those horses.” He handed Tarbow’s .44 to Seth. “I don’t think he’s goin’ anywhere, but if he tries to, shoot him.”

  “I sure will,” Seth said, taking the pistol eagerly.

  Will climbed on the chestnut and rode it down to the stable, where he pulled the saddle off and put it on a blue roan that reminded him a lot of the one that had killed his old boss, Jim Hightower. This one seemed not to possess the evil streak, however. Before returning for his prisoner, he went in the room beyond the tack room and rolled John Carver’s body out from under the bed. He picked it up and laid it on the bed, just so the deceased would have a little more dignity when his friends came to take care of him.

  By the time he returned to the store, Tarbow had managed to come to his senses and was growling at Seth and Wiley as he strained against the ropes that held him, trying to break free, even though he knew he couldn’t. Seth appeared to enjoy the miscreant’s frustration, remembering the bullying suffered at his expense. “Strain a little harder,” Seth goaded him. ’Cause the deputy said I could shoot your sorry ass if you broke loose.”

  “All right,” Will said when he walked in the door. “I reckon I’d best get started.” He ignored the scathing gaze aimed squarely at him from the man on the floor as he talked to Seth and Wiley. “You men oughta go down to the stable and take care of your friend. Might be better if your wife doesn’t see the body. Tarbow messed him up pretty good.” They both nodded their understanding. He turned his attention to the prisoner then. “I’m gonna untie your ankles and get you up on your feet, so you can walk to your horse. I’ll make it as easy on you as you’ll let me.” Tarbow didn’t say anything, but continued to glare with dark intensity at the man responsible for the death of his brother and three of his gang. His nose was broken and bloody, his thick, black beard streaked with blood, his eye patch skewed to one side so that part of his empty socket could be seen. This was the first time he had really seen the relentless deputy up close, and he was trying to gauge the mettle of his enemy. He could not help but note the apparent ease with which Will pulled him to his feet. But he was sure he would win the battle of wills before it was over. He had cowed every man who had ever ridden with him, and he had ridden with the cruelest of outlaws. He felt smug in the knowledge that it was a long way to Fort Smith. Somewhere over that rough country he would get his chance.

  Finally he spoke as he walked out to the horses at gunpoint with only his hands tied. “That’s a mighty long ride. I ain’t sure I wanna go.” He figured he might as well test the deputy’s steel right from the start.

  “Well, I ain’t lookin’ forward to the trip with you, either,” Will said. “Grab the saddle horn and step up on that horse.”

  “I need my hands untied,” Tarbow said.

  “Like hell you do. Step up in that stirrup.”

  “Why don’t you put me up there?” Tarbow challenged.

  Once again, Will wished he had just shot him. So it looked like Tarbow was gambling on winning a battle of wills, thinking that somewhere along the line he could frustrate the deputy into making a mistake. Will gave him a patient look. “Like you said, it’s a long way from here to Fort Smith. It’d be a sight easier on you, and quicker, too, if you were to ride that horse. But hell, if you’d rather walk, that’s fine with me.” He tied the fifteen-foot lead rope he had attached to Tarbow’s bound wrists to the saddle horn of the blue roan. Then he tied the roan to the second packhorse, forming a string of the four horses, with Tarbow walking at the rear. “I reckon we can get started now,” Will announced.

  Grinning smugly through the whole complicated procedure, Tarbow declared, “I still ain’t walkin’. If you’re arrestin’ me, you gotta transport me in a jail wagon. I ain’t walkin’.”

  “I’m surprised you know that, Tarbow, and that’s exactly what I’m gonna do. But my wagon is settin’ over in the Arbuckle Mountains, where you shot the team of horses that pulled it. So we’re gonna have to go get the wagon, either ridin’ or walkin’, your choice, but it’s a pretty good walk from here, a good fifty miles.”

  “I ain’t walkin’,” Tarbow insisted.

  “We’ll see,” Will said, then directed a question at Seth. “How far is the river from here?”

  “Six miles,” Seth said. “Follow that trail beside the stable. It’ll take you straight north, across the river and on up into Injun Territory. You’ll be back in Oklahoma Territory then.”

  “Much obliged,” Will said, and stepped up into the saddle. He looked back at Tarbow then and said, “We’ll get started now.” He nudged Buster with his heels and his string of horses got under way, one by one as the slack was lost between each horse, until the rope became taut between the roan and the stubborn prisoner. With his feet planted defiantly, Tarbow pulled against the rope, but was forced to stagger forward, overpowered by the horses. Passing the stable, Will nudged Buster to a faster pace that pressed Tarbow to the limit of his ability to keep up, and soon he was running to keep from falling. Being a stout man with a huge upper body, but short legs, Tarbow was not built for running. He soon came to the point past his limit to remain on his feet, and went stumbling to the ground, flat on his belly. Will pressed Buster to lope, dragging the foolish protester up the rough trail toward the Red River. It didn’t take much of this treatment before he heard cries of surrender from his resistant prisoner. Feeling no compassion for the cold-blooded murderer, Will continued dragging him for another hundred yards to make sure Tarbow never forgot it. By the time he got the bruised and bleeding outlaw settled in the saddle, Tarbow had learned that it was painful to challenge the somber deputy.

  Behind them, Wiley, Winona, and Seth watched in silent amazement until the deputy and his prisoner were out of sight. Wiley broke the silence then. “If that don’t beat all . . .”

  “That sure as shootin’ oughta take some of the meanness out of him,” Seth commented. “I’ve heared of saddle-breakin’ a horse, but that’s the first time I’ve ever seen anybody saddle-break a man.” He walked out to the center of the street, still staring after them.

  With Seth out of earshot, Wiley looked at his wife and grinned. “We sure made the biggest sale of merchandise we’ll ever see again anytime
soon. I’ll go put the money back in the cash drawer.” He handed her the bundle of money they had removed from under the mattress. “I was thinking that we had better put this money in the safe under the porch with the rest of the money, but now I don’t know. Maybe we’d best put it back under the mattress, in case we have another robbery sometime.”

  “You might be right,” she said. “You and Seth better go down to the stable now to see about poor John. I guess the least we can do for him is to give him a decent burial.”

  “What’s gonna happen to his stable?” Wiley wondered, then the thought struck him. “Seth, why don’t you take it over? It’ll go hand in hand with your business.”

  Seth paused to consider the suggestion. “I reckon I could run the stable. Tell you the truth, I’ve been thinkin’ about movin’ on, ’cause I wasn’t makin’ a livin’ with my smithin’. But with both of ’em, I might be able to make it.”

  “Good,” Winona said. “We don’t need to lose anyone else, or we’re never really going to be a town.”

  CHAPTER 10

  Will did not spare the horses, or the bruised and battered body of Max Tarbow. It was fully fifty miles to the valley in the foothills of the Arbuckle Mountains, and he intended to make the trip in one day. With one stop halfway to rest the horses, he hoped to reach the ravine where the wagon was parked before dark, even with the late start. He soon found out, however, that he was not going to be able to cover that distance in one day. His chain was as strong as its weakest link, and the two horses picked up at John Carver’s stable turned out to be that weakest link. They proved not to be as stout as Will’s buckskin or his packhorse, showing signs of tiring after a distance he estimated at a little short of twenty miles. He was disappointed that he would not reach the mountains until the next day, because he knew it would be much easier to transport Tarbow chained in the wagon. And he couldn’t be sure that the wagon would still be there, even though he figured the odds were slim that anyone else would happen along to find it. In the meantime, Tarbow was content to rock along in the saddle after his treatment at the end of a rope. Will figured it would take a few days for him to recover from the beating he took.