Will Tanner

by William W. Johnstone

  He stepped down to talk to the two elders. “I apologize for disturbin’ your meeting,” Will said. “My name’s Will Tanner. I’m a deputy marshal from Fort Smith, and I just need to talk to Jim Little Eagle.”

  “Jim Little Eagle has been seriously wounded,” one of the old men said. “A young man from our village found him near the Blue River. He had been shot in the chest by a man he went to arrest.”

  Will was too shocked to speak for a moment. He knew, without having to be told, that the shooter was Eli Stark. If he was found near the Blue River, then it meant that Jim had gone to Lem Stark’s store to arrest Eli. He should have waited for me, Will thought. “I’m awful sorry to hear this terrible news. How bad is he hurt? Can I see him?”

  Hearing the conversation outside the house, Mary Light Walker walked out to greet him. “Jim will want to see you,” she said. “Please come in.”

  Will followed her inside to find Jim Little Eagle lying in bed, his chest bandaged heavily. Evidently there had been massive blood loss, for he looked pale and drained of strength. He opened his eyes halfway and gave Will a weak nod. “How ya doin’, partner?” Will asked. “You gonna make it?”

  “I’ll make it,” he vowed weakly. “I’ll not let that son of a bitch put me in the ground.” He shook his head slowly. “I made a big mistake. I got careless.” He went on to tell Will how Eli had gotten the jump on him.

  “Hell, he winged me, too,” Will said, trying to console him. “But we’ll get him. I’m on my way to find him now. You just rest up and get on your feet again.”

  They didn’t talk long, since it appeared to Will that it was tiring Jim out. So when Mary came back in with a look of concern on her face, Will decided it best that he took his leave. “You get well,” he said. “I’m lookin’ forward to workin’ with you.” He said good-bye to Mary and stepped up into the saddle, planning to use what daylight was left to shorten the distance between him and Tishomingo before he made his camp that night.

  CHAPTER 16

  “What the hell is he doin’ back here?” Lem demanded when he looked out the door of his store and saw the big Morgan heading for the corral behind the house. He had heard about Jim Little Eagle and knew Eli was the one who shot him because it happened so close to his store. He rushed out to head Eli off and repeated the question when he caught his son at the corral gate.

  “I need some doctorin’,” Eli replied, “and there ain’t no place else to go. I reckon I musta tore somethin’ loose in my shoulder when I shot that Injun policeman. It’s been bleedin’ ever since.”

  “I shoulda figured you’d do somethin’ stupid like that,” Lem fumed. “But damn it, if you had to shoot the son of a bitch, why the hell didn’t you at least make sure he was dead—then hide the body somewhere? I swear, it don’t seem right. I had two sons and all the brains went into Jeb’s head and you didn’t get a lick of sense.” He paused to take a breath. “And there ain’t no doctor here, you oughta know that. You killed the Injun doctor. Ain’t nobody left but the horse doctor, and he messed that wound up the first time.”

  “Maybe Minnie can doctor it,” Eli said. “All them Injun women know about makin’ medicine outta roots and leaves and stuff.”

  Exasperated by his son’s total lack of common sense, Lem was tempted to shoot him, himself, to keep the law from coming down on him. He used to take great pride in Eli, but lately it seemed like Eli just made one stupid move after another, and each mistake gave the law reason to focus on his little store. Eli’s latest blunder was the wounding of the Choctaw policeman, Jim Little Eagle. Lem supposed Eli had no choice, since Jim was trying to arrest him. But instead of making sure he was dead, Eli left him alive, right on the bluffs close to the store, where somebody was bound to find him. “Minnie don’t know nothin’ ’bout makin’ medicine,” Lem said. “You shoulda stayed up there in the mountains and let it heal. All you’re gonna do by comin’ home is lead the marshal right to my doorstep.”

  Eli thought about that for a moment, then said, “Well, ain’t that what we’re wantin’? I chased him all the way to the Poteau. Now maybe he’ll come to us, and when he does, I’ll settle with him for killin’ Jeb.”

  Lem had to think a moment then. He was still tormented by the need for vengeance for the killing of his youngest son, and he was convinced that Will Tanner was the man who shot Jeb. As appealing as the thought of shooting the deputy marshal down at his front door was, Lem had to listen to his common sense. If Tanner was shot, trying to make an arrest at the store, that would bring a whole posse of marshals down on him. “Use that little brain of yours,” Lem finally said. “I don’t want you anywhere around here if that marshal shows up.”

  “Why, Pa?” Eli exclaimed. “I winged him before. I’m gonna finish it if he shows up here lookin’ for me. And I guarantee, this time, won’t nobody find the body.”

  “Listen, you dang fool,” Lem lashed out, his patience exhausted. “Do you think when you shoot that lawman, that that’ll be the end of it—that there won’t be no more showin’ up on my front step? I don’t want you here. That marshal needs killin’, and it’s your responsibility to do it, but not on my doorstep. So don’t even unsaddle your horse—you’ve got to put some distance between you and my store.”

  “But my shoulder ain’t healin’ like it oughta,” Eli protested, childlike.

  Lem relented briefly. “I’ll tell Minnie to look at it and see if there’s anythin’ she can do for it. But she ain’t gonna take long. Maybe we can give you some food to take with you. Then you get back up to that hideout in the Sans Bois. That’s the best place to wait for Tanner to show up, and he most likely will. And when he does, dammit, kill him.”

  Finally seeing the sense in what his father was telling him, Eli abandoned the idea of lying around Lem’s house while Minnie Three Toes waited on him. His father was right about one thing, a man could keep a posse at bay from that stone cave on top of the mountain. Leaving the saddle on his horse, he followed Lem to the house, where his father told Minnie to tend to Eli’s shoulder.

  Alarmed to see the evil son’s return, the mistreated Indian woman did as she was ordered. Lem seemed to always treat her even more roughly whenever Eli was there. Perhaps it was to demonstrate his dominance over her, as if she were a problematic horse or dog. If she was lucky, and responded quickly to his orders, maybe she would get by with nothing more than verbal abuse. With that in mind, she removed the crude bandage that Eli had stuffed over the wound and cleaned it as best she could. “I put clean bandage on wound,” she said. “I don’t know more to do. Maybe you go see Walking Crow. He give you medicine.” She was surprised when they both laughed.

  “Yeah, that’d be the thing to do,” Lem said, chuckling. “Go see ol’ Walking Crow and see what kinda medicine he’s got.” He had not told Minnie that the old Choctaw medicine man had met with a violent death. When she continued to seem confused by his remark, he decided to inform her. “Ol’ Walkin’ Crow’s dead.” He grinned at her, amused by her look of horrible surprise.

  “Walking Crow is dead?” she asked.

  “That’s a fact,” Lem said. “Got his throat cut, is what I heard.” She looked at once toward Eli, who was grinning in response to his father’s remarks, and knew who killed him. It was disturbing news, for the old medicine man was held in high respect among his people. A wave of hopeless disgust swept over her entire body for the blatant disregard for human life. As for Lem, his angry reaction when Eli first boasted of Walking Crow’s murder was now forgotten. “Get busy and get some grub for Eli. He’s got to get on his way before dark,” Lem said.

  Relieved to learn that Eli was not going to stay, she gathered some food for him to take with him, hoping to hurry him on his way. Still grumbling about his wound and the pain it was causing him, Eli nevertheless climbed back into the saddle and walked the Morgan back toward the river trace. Peeking from the kitchen door, Minnie watched Lem as he stood by the corner of the corral after seeing his son off. When he turned
to come back to the house, she went quickly to the stove to make sure the coffee was still hot. He would want it as soon as he came through the door. And to avoid a beating, she would have it waiting for him.

  There had been very few customers coming to the store over the last couple of days. This, on top of all the recent trouble with Jeb and Eli, was enough to keep Lem in a foul mood. Even the usual Loafer Indians who came to buy illegal whiskey had not been in to trade for the firewater that made them crazy. Minnie knew the reason they had not come was because word had gotten around that Eli was back. In Lem’s twisted brain, however, he somehow convinced himself that it was because this lawman, Will Tanner, was out to kill all his customers. Once again, a thought came to her that she had entertained often over the summer months, and that was to escape from this hell she was forced to endure. If she was going to make another attempt to run away, she was going to have to do it soon. Summer was rapidly drawing to a close now. Bad weather was not far away, and she did not want to repeat the mistake that led to an almost crippling beating once before. She had foolishly run down the river during a snowstorm. Lem had drunk himself into an unconscious stupor, so she ran, thinking the snow would continue falling and cover her tracks. To her horror, however, the storm abated when she was no more than two miles from the store, failing to cover her footprints. Shuddering with the memory of it, she unconsciously reached up to feel the long scar beside her ear, a constant reminder of the folly in running from the cruel man obsessed with owning her. She had made up her mind, however, that if he caught her again and beat her to death, as he had promised, it would ultimately be a fate preferable to continuing to live as his slave. She turned from the stove to gaze at him, seated at the kitchen table, drinking his coffee. Soon, she told herself, soon. The next time he drank himself to sleep, she was determined to make her break for freedom.

  * * *

  It was close to midday when Will reined Buster to a halt on the low bluffs above the Blue River. From where he sat, he could see the store and the attached house slightly below the level of the bluffs. He could see the barn and corral from there, as well as a wagon shed, a smokehouse, and an outhouse. There were three horses in the corral, but no dark Morgan. That was disappointing, but he couldn’t rule out the possibility that Eli’s horse was somewhere else, somewhere out of sight, maybe inside the barn. With thoughts of someone drawing a bead on him with a rifle, which he remembered as Eli’s style, he decided to ride on down quickly before he was spotted.

  * * *

  Cursing a barrel of molasses that was reluctant to be moved from under the counter, Lem Stark was not aware of the rider pulling up to the hitching post outside his store. He continued to struggle with the stubborn barrel, jammed in behind two barrels of lard, until in exasperation, he stood up to call for Minnie Three Toes. Startled to discover the formidable figure of the deputy marshal standing in front of the counter, Lem staggered back a step before recovering from the shock. He quickly fumbled for words to cover his surprise. “I didn’t hear you come in, Tanner. What are you doin’ out this way again? I done told you I don’t know where Eli is, if that’s what you come to ask me.”

  “Is that a fact?” Will replied. “Then you won’t mind me takin’ a look around the place, will you?”

  “And look for what?” Lem demanded. “Somebody else to kill? Ain’t nobody else to shoot, but me and my woman. You done killed my boy Jeb, and he didn’t break no laws.”

  Will glanced toward the door to the house to see the frightened Chickasaw woman peeking into the store, having heard Lem talking to someone. He was not sure what part she played in Lem’s family, so he did not dismiss her as harmless. Responding to Lem’s question, he said, “Your son was killed because he was ridin’ with Max Tarbow. He was killed by one of Tarbow’s men when he drew down on him in a gunfight.”

  “Well, ain’t that interestin’?” Lem replied sarcastically. Course there warn’t nobody left standin’ to talk about it, was there?”

  “No, there wasn’t,” Will said. “And that included Deputy Fletcher Pride and Charlie Tate.”

  “Damn you,” Lem spat. “You shot my boy, just as sure as you shot all the rest of those men up there. And now you come here, lookin’ to shoot Eli.”

  “I came here lookin’ to arrest Eli,” Will said. “Whether he gets shot or not depends on him. I’m tired of jawin’ with you, so I’m gonna take a look around that barn now.” He started toward the door. When he did, Minnie disappeared from the door to the house, causing him to cock his Winchester, in case she was up to something. Wary of getting shot in the back, he kept an eye on Lem as he went outside and walked toward the barn, ready to react to whatever he found. It was a bold move he was making, and maybe a foolish one, walking alone into what had the ideal makings of a trap. But he was determined to know if Eli was here, or hiding close by.

  He quickly brought his rifle up when the kitchen door suddenly opened and the Indian woman reappeared. Instead of a weapon, however, she carried a small tub with a washboard in it, which she promptly placed on the ground and began washing some cloth items that looked like towels. He was distracted for a moment by her odd behavior and would have looked away had she not pulled some short strips of cloth up to inspect. He noticed then that the strips looked to have bloodstains on them, and he glanced up to lock eyes with her. She responded with one slight nod, and he realized that she was telling him that Eli was there, or that he had recently been there. He acknowledged her signal with a nod as well, aware that Lem had followed him out the door, but unaware of the .44 pistol he had stuck in his belt. Will failed to interpret her heavy frown as a signal that Lem was armed. He continued to the barn to cautiously push the door open, and went inside.

  Behind the deputy, Lem rested his hand on the handle of his pistol as he quietly stepped up to the barn door. His mind was racing with conflicting thoughts, stirred by his overpowering hatred for the tenacious lawman. Now he was presented with an opportunity to extract the vengeance he so desperately craved, with no one to witness the execution. All evidence of the killing, the body and his horse, would have to be disposed of far away from his store. There must be no possible connection to him, for he was barely tolerated by the law in Fort Smith as it was. He thought of Minnie then. She would have to be silenced as well. There was no use in taking a chance.

  The question now was did he have the nerve to do it? His blood seemed to be draining from his brain as he quietly stepped inside the barn to find the deputy kneeling before one of the stalls, examining the tracks on the dirt floor, his back toward him. It was now or never, he thought as he drew the .44 from his belt. He almost panicked when the front sight of the weapon caught momentarily on his belt, fearing that Will would turn to discover him at any moment. When the pistol came free, he hurriedly aimed it at the unsuspecting deputy’s back, but still he hesitated. He could not miss. The range was point-blank. His hand trembled as he held his arm straight out before him, the front sight aimed at a point squarely in the center of Will’s back. Do it, he told himself.

  The stillness of the small barn was suddenly shattered by the explosion of the shot. Will rolled over on his back, his rifle set to fire, startled to see Lem suddenly drop to his knees, a ragged hole blown in his side. He remained on his knees for only a few seconds, his eyes staring in horror, before he slowly keeled over to lie dead. Totally confused until he saw the solemn Indian woman standing by the barn door, holding the double-barreled shotgun loosely in her hands, Will only then realized what had happened. His first thought was to reprimand himself for having been so careless. He had not thought Lem possessed the nerve to take action. The next thought was one of amazement that the woman had killed her husband to save him. He got to his feet then and went to her. She obediently handed him the shotgun and continued staring at the corpse lying on the floor of the barn. “You just saved my life,” he said simply, stating the obvious.

  “He is very bad man,” she replied. “He was gonna shoot you. I shoot him.”r />
  The faraway expression in the weary woman’s eyes told him a great deal more than the simple explanation she had offered. “He was a very bad man,” he repeated. “I think maybe he treated you pretty bad. Is that right?” She nodded and unconsciously felt the scar beside her ear. “Well, I reckon you’re free now,” he said.

  She responded with a single word: “Eli.”

  “Are you afraid of Eli?” She nodded again. “Is he hidin’ near here somewhere?”

  “Eli leave yesterday,” she said. “He go to mountains, to cave they talk about. He wants to kill you.”

  “Well, I’m already aware of that,” he said, thinking of the ride to Fort Smith with Max Tarbow’s body. “What about you? Are you stayin’ here, or do you have some place to go? Where are your people?”

  “I don’t know. When the white men stole me, my village was on the Wichita River in the Chickasaw Nation. They brought me here, four days on horses, and sold me to Lem. I try to run away, but he caught me and say he will kill me if I try again. I think now maybe I go to Choctaw village on Switchback Creek. Maybe they will take me in.”

  He paused for a minute to think the situation over. He felt sorry for the woman, left alone as she was, even though it was better than being owned by the likes of Lem Stark. She was certainly too old to entertain thoughts of marriage, if anyone would even want her after her time with Lem. But she was right—the Choctaws would most likely accept her. He wanted to help her, and the perfect solution suddenly occurred to him. “You’re a rich woman now. Since Stark’s dead, you’ve got a store full of goods that all belong to you.” He saw her eyes brighten at that. It had clearly never occurred to her. “I’ll bet ol’ Lem’s got some money hid around here, too,” Will said. “You don’t have to go to that Choctaw village lookin’ for charity. You can pay your way. I’ll take you there. We’ll load that wagon in the shed back there with everything it’ll hold. Everything belongs to you. What we can’t get in the wagon we’ll hide it away somewhere and come back to get it.”