by Cameron Judd
“What’s your name, man?” Luke demanded of the scarred man.
The prisoner struggled and ignored the question. Luke drew closer and spoke louder, repeating his query.
The man stopped trying to fight his way free. He panted, relaxing, glanced down at Luke’s badge, then stared at Luke. “Howdy, Marshal.”
“I asked your name.”
“Wesson. Ed Wesson.” The man began to struggle with his holders again.
“Fairly believable alias, friend,” Luke said. “Most just come up with something like Joe Jones or Bill Smith.”
John Bailey said, “You’re right about it being an alias, Luke. You know who this man really is?”
“Why don’t you just tell me, John?”
“Because you’re the lawman. You should be able to figure it out yourself. Take a look at him!”
Unsure what Bailey was trying to make him see, Luke eyed the struggling prisoner. The burly man was a stranger, yet that earlier sense of something recognizable about him lingered.
The man turned his head and the scar on the right side of his ruddy face throbbed lividly. And at that moment Luke knew, or at least strongly suspected. An image from a year-old wanted poster flickered in his memory.
“‘Scar’ Nolan?” he said.
Bailey nodded vigorously. “You should’ve figured that out right off, being law. If I was marshal, I’d not have to have been told who it was.”
“Yeah, you’re a treasure, John. A real treasure.”
“Well, here’s some advice you can treasure, lawman. You’d best deputize me and these boys right now, or else I doubt you’ll get this old boy to the jail without him getting away from you. Scar Nolan didn’t get famous for escaping the law by being easy to hold.”
“I ain’t no Scar Nolan!” the prisoner growled, struggling. “Honest to God, lawman! My name is Ed Wesson.”
“Shut up, you!” Bailey ordered.
“Bailey, it’s you who should shut up,” Luke said. “As much as you don’t like it, I’m the marshal here.”
“Acting marshal,” Bailey corrected. “Acting like a marshal without being one.”
“Bailey, I don’t know why you hold as deep a grudge against me as you do, but it’s nothing but a nuisance to you and me both. I’m officially appointed to fill in for Ben during his absence, and if the town had wanted you in that position, they’d have put you there. But they didn’t, and you being jealous over it don’t change that.”
“Oh, listen at him preaching from his speaking stump!” Bailey mocked. “Ain’t you proud to be took in by such a fine man of the law as this one, Scar? Not that he had nothing to do with it. It was me and these other boys who got you!”
“I’m telling you, this is a damned mistake!” the prisoner declared, struggling harder. “I’m no criminal!”
And suddenly he was free. A wrench and a twist, and by seeming luck he found a way to get out of the grip of the men holding him. He lunged away from them and toward the door, sending him directly past Luke.
He didn’t get far. Luke had his pistol out and swinging before the fellow had completed his first step. The heavy Colt caught the scarred man on the left temple and drove him down to the floor. He crumpled and quivered and passed out, groaning a curse as he did so.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Bailey continued his gibes, and Luke continued to ignore them, as they carried the unconscious prisoner to the jail, drawing a lot of attention from the citizenry as they went. But all the way there, Luke increasingly suspected that Bailey was right about the identity of the prisoner. Scar Nolan, one of only two surviving members of what had been a group of four train- and bank-robbing brothers from Missouri, was famed for his lethal hatred of peace officers and for his ability to escape custody, sometimes by sheer luck, more often by magician-like skill. And if this really was Nolan, it might explain why Sheriff Crowe had approached the man to begin with, and why things had turned violent.
Luke caught himself wondering if Dewitt would be up to the task of keeping watch over a clever man such as Scar Nolan was reputed to be. He’d escaped jail, according to one story, by knocking out and changing garments with a preacher who had come to visit prisoners.
When they reached the jail, Dewitt was not in the front office, and the front door was locked. Luke opened it, calling for Dewitt and getting no answer.
“Where’s your jailer?” Bailey asked.
“Can’t say,” Luke replied. “Outhouse, I guess.”
“Or out drunk somewhere.”
“Dewitt don’t drink no more.”
“Ha! Yeah. I reckon.”
Luke eyed Bailey and wondered why the man was so determined to dislike him. Sometimes, it seemed, there were situations in which two particular people just couldn’t mix together without something dramatic happening. Vinegar and soda.
Just then they heard Dewitt’s voice, calling from behind the door that divided the front office area from the block of cells in the rear.
“Dewitt?” Luke called back, putting his hand to the door and pushing it open.
Dewitt was indeed in the cell block, in fact in one of the cells, barred door closed and locked, imprisoning him. He was seated on the cot that served as the cell’s bed, leaning back against the stone wall. He looked up glumly at Luke, then past him and through the door, where Bailey was visible, holding fast to the scar-faced prisoner. The other men who had helped transfer the prisoner had already quietly vanished, apparently seeing their volunteer duties as completed. The prisoner was Luke Cable’s problem now.
Luke let the door close and went over to the cell to face the glum-looking Dewitt.
“Dewitt, what the devil?”
“It…it was an accident, Luke. But I think God caused it for my own sake.”
“God locked you up in your own jail. Yeah.”
At that moment the sky opened up, driving rain and even more lightning and thunder, and Luke wondered if there was some kind of divine message in the timing of it. If so, he couldn’t decipher it.
“I’d come back here to pray, Luke. Had to do it. I was feeling tempted, tempted bad.”
“Liquor?”
“I’m ashamed of it, but yes. Hardest temptation I’ve had since I put the bottle aside. It was all I could think about…I nigh went out the door and out to get liquor, and all I could do to keep myself from it was come back here and pray. But when I threw open the door to the cell and came in, I slung it too hard, and it bounced back closed behind me. And locked itself. And I’d left the key out on the desk. But being locked in kept me from having a chance to give in to the temptation. And I believe I would have give in if I’d been able to get out of here. It scares me how close I was to letting the demon grab me again, Luke.”
“We can talk about that later, Dewitt. Right now we have a prisoner to deal with.”
Out in the office, Bailey cursed loudly as his prisoner made another lunge for freedom, which Luke turned just in time to see. Bailey responded quickly to the effort, fist coming up in a blur and pounding the scar-face man on the left side of his head. The man fell straight down, as if his legs had gone soft, and clumped heavily on the floor. For a moment Luke thought the man was dead, but then he groaned loudly.
Luke went out and knelt by the man to reassure himself further that he’d not just witnessed a violent death in his own office. Sure enough, the man was breathing, but with eyes limply closed, showing their white undersides through slitted lids.
Bailey was cursing and shaking the hand he’d just hit the man with. “Did you break it, Bailey?” Luke asked.
“Don’t…think so. But it feels like lightning-fire running through it.” Another violent shake of writhing fingers.
From his desk, Luke picked up the key to the cell that held Dewitt. He went back and freed his deputy. In the front office he said, “Dewitt, help me get this man on the floor back into that same cell you just left.”
“What’s wrong with him?” Dewitt asked.
“Bail
ey just busted him in the head for trying to escape.”
“You a deputy now, too, Bailey?” Dewitt asked.
“Just helping out,” Bailey replied. He wasn’t shaking his hand anymore, just massaging it gently with the other hand.
“Is this the man who shot Sheriff Crowe?” Dewitt asked.
“It’s him.”
“I think I know who that is, Luke. I seen his picture on a notice. I think that man might be Scar Nolan.”
“I think so, too. So does Deputy Bailey.”
“‘Deputy Bailey’?”
“Well…by that I mean, he’s acted as a deputy by helping bring in this outlaw.”
“Helping?” Bailey said. “Hell, seems to me I was the one who done the whole job! I was the one who brought him down after he did the crime, and held him, and kept him from getting loose. I did a hell of a lot more than just ‘help’ you get him down the street to the jail, Marshal! And if there’s a reward due on this fellow, I’ll not let you cheat me out of it!”
Luke, feeling the annoyance that Bailey always roused in him, held his tongue long enough to let him, Bailey, and Dewitt get the unconscious man into the cell. By the time Luke locked him in, he was groaning more loudly and beginning to come to. Lightning turned the glass-and-bar cell window into a flashing light.
“You reckon he is Scar Nolan?” Dewitt asked.
“He could be. Right now we don’t really know. But in a way it doesn’t matter. Whoever he is, Nolan or Wesson or anything in between, this is the man who killed our sheriff, so he’s here to stay for a good while.”
Dewitt looked very somber. “Something wrong?” Luke asked him.
“I’m…I…” Dewitt clearly had something to say, but could not get it out. He flicked his eyes in the direction of Bailey, and Luke got the message.
“We’ll talk in a minute,” Luke said to his jailer.
With the prisoner now securely locked in a cell, Luke turned to Bailey. “How’s the hand?” he asked.
Bailey was gently massaging his fingers. “Hurts. But I don’t think it’s broke.”
“You don’t need a doctor, then?”
“Nah. Nah. I’m fine.” Bailey looked through the bars at the slowly recovering, wakening prisoner. “He might, though. I jarred him pretty damn hard.”
Nolan/Wesson gave a well-timed groan.
“Could I ask you a favor, then, Bailey? Not that you ain’t already done more than most.”
“What?”
“Would you go to Doc Artemus’s place and fetch him back here?”
“Why don’t you send your jailer there? Why make me your errand boy?”
“Dewitt and me have some talking we need to do. This is the most serious case we’ve encountered since he became jailer. I need to make sure he understands how important it is to keep this prisoner secure at all times. Especially if he does prove out to be Scar Nolan. Nolan, they say, has escaped more jails than a fox has fleas.”
“All righty. I’ll go fetch the doc. And, Luke…I know you and me ain’t been the best for getting along, but the fact is I’m not working right now, and if you need to hire on some help here to make sure this prisoner stays a prisoner, I’d be proud to work for you.”
“I’m going to think hard about that, Bailey. And I thank you for the offer.”
During the time that Dr. Artemus evaluated the state of the prisoner in his cell, Luke walked with Dewitt outside the jailhouse. Inside, Bailey was still there, helping oversee the situation.
“Why’s he doing that, Luke?” Dewitt asked. “I don’t trust him.”
“I can’t say I do, either,” Luke replied. “Bailey and me have never got on well, and it’s always seemed to me that he had some personal motive for anything he does.”
“I bet I know what it is, Luke. I bet he’s hoping the county will name him sheriff to replace poor old Sheriff Crowe.”
“You think so? Because he’s got no experience at all as a professional peace officer. You think they’d put somebody in like that?”
“That’s the point, Luke. He’s acting like a good citizen volunteer to make himself look good in their eyes. He’s hoping they’ll say, ‘That Bailey might never have been a peace officer, but by gum he sure showed his stripes the way he jumped in and helped out old Luke Cable when Sheriff Crowe got gunned down. We ought to make him sheriff!’ That’s what Bailey is hoping they’ll say. Betcha anything.”
“You may be right. And if you are, my days as marshal are numbered. Even though he’d be county-hired and I’m town-hired, my office works too close with the sheriff for us not to get along well. He’d find ways to undercut me and try to get me out of the job. Don’t you figure?”
“I do.”
“But at the same time, Dewitt, I might take Bailey up on an offer he made me. He’s willing to step in and be a temporary deputy for me while we’ve got Nolan locked up. And it is Nolan. I had a notice about him in the file, and there was a picture. It’s him, hardly any doubt about it.”
Dewitt reacted with an expression Luke couldn’t interpret. “So Bailey’s taking my job?”
“No. You’d still be jailer. Bailey would just help out on the side for a while.”
“What about Hank McAdams? Why not just get Hank to help more?”
“Hank stuck a letter under the jail door, Dewitt. He’s quit as deputy. His mother’s nigh dead, and he’s going to spend all his time for now seeing to her. Once she’s gone, he’s going to put cattle on the family land and do some ranching.”
“So Bailey is replacing Hank.”
“Sort of. Just temporary for now.”
“Luke, I’m sorry to speak so forward, but this ain’t a good idea. You and Bailey working together…that’s cat and dog.”
“I know. But can I speak just as ‘forward’ as you?”
“’Course you can, Luke.”
“Don’t take offense, Dewitt, but I’d feel better having somebody like Bailey here at the jail some as long as we’ve got such a notable prisoner. Especially one with a reputation for being able to get out of jailhouses.”
“You figure he’d get past me, huh?”
“He’s a tough old bird. Cool and slick as a dog’s nose. And you’re still a new jailer. Yeah, I figure he might get past me or you, either one.”
“But not Bailey.”
“Can’t say that. Maybe he could wrangle Bailey, too. But you got to admit that Bailey handled him pretty well today. As much as I don’t like Bailey, he’s a capable fellow. And not many private citizens would have stepped in like he did to bring down a hoss like Nolan right after he gunned down the county sheriff.”
“That’s true.”
“Here’s the way it all adds up, Dewitt. We’ve got a prisoner that’s going to require some close care and attention. With Hank quitting we’re shorthanded as it is. You’re a new jailer and I’m just an acting marshal. Bailey has offered to help and he’s already proven he’s got some natural capability in this kind of work, just by what he did today. We need his help right now, like it or not. I’m inclined to take him up on his offer. But I want you to be with me on this, Dewitt.”
Dewitt took a long, slow breath. “I don’t like Bailey. I don’t feel good about him coming in and strutting around the place with his smart mouth flapping like it always does. I don’t like the way he disrespects you, Luke, because you’ve been mighty good to me and I won’t hear nobody talk you down.”
“Well, that means a lot to me, Dewitt. But I’m used to Bailey’s attitude. And it all evens out. If he don’t like me, well, I don’t much like him, either.”
“But you still want to make him deputy?”
“It’s not a matter of ‘want.’ For the moment, we need him.” Luke grinned. “Dewitt, you locked yourself in your own jail cell.”
Dewitt grinned sheepishly, thought about it a couple of moments, and nodded. “I guess we do need him.”
“I’ll talk to him, then. Right now. I’ll have to hope the town will go along with giving
me a little more money to pay for the extra help.”
“What if they say no?”
“They won’t. I’m only asking for a short-term hire, for one thing, and I know this town’s leaders well enough to be sure they aren’t going to take any chances with the likes of Scar Nolan locked up in our jail.”
Bailey accepted Luke’s offer, with the understanding that the temporary appointment was dependent upon approval by the town fathers. Later, as Luke met over beer with District Attorney James Crandall to discuss the murder of Sheriff Crowe, Crandall, who also had always disliked Bailey, questioned Luke closely about the move and let it be known that he thought it doubtful at best.
Luke answered those doubts with a candor that surprised even himself. “It all came down to the fact that Scar Nolan is a more clever fellow than most of his ilk, if his reputation is valid. Certainly more clever than Dewitt. I’ve got the strongest feeling, Jim, that if I left Dewitt alone to tend the jail with Scar locked up, Scar would wrangle himself a way out of there before Dewitt knew it was happening.”
“Sounds like you’re questioning your own wisdom in having put Dewitt into that job, then, Luke. Maybe he wasn’t up to the task.”
“I believe in Dewitt. In normal circumstances, that is. But this ain’t a normal circumstance. Our jail has mostly been occupied by drunks and brawlers and the like. It ain’t common at all to have a murderer locked up in our jail. Especially not the murderer of a lawman. And a murderer with a famous name at that.”
