The Devil's Posse

by Charles G. West

  “That oughta about cover most places he might show up,” Quincy said when they left the store and headed for the Three Widows Inn.

  They had talked it over and decided that it was the best place for them to wait for him. Logan was soft on Hannah. He had rescued her from the mountains and brought her to live with Mae and Daisy. Maybe he had stronger ideas about the young widow; Quincy couldn’t be certain about that. But it figured that he would be more careful about any gunplay with her near harm’s way. Quincy was also interested in Hannah, but not in a charitable way. He would not hesitate to use her as bait if that would give him an advantage. And if she got in the way of a stray bullet, he would not grieve her loss.

  “Well, I see you’re back, Marshal,” Mae Davis said when the two outlaws walked into the parlor. Eager to hear their report on pursuing Logan Cross, she asked, “Is it all over? Did you capture Logan?”

  “No, ma’am,” Quincy answered. “I’m sorry to say he slipped away from us again.”

  Mae was not really disappointed to hear it, and she knew that Hannah would feel the same. “You’re not havin’ much luck arrestin’ that man, are you?” He didn’t bother to answer, only scowling in response, so she continued. “Well, we’ll have dinner ready in half an hour. Where’s your other two men?”

  “They won’t be comin’ to dinner,” Quincy said. “They were both killed in the line of duty by that back-shootin’ killer.”

  “Oh my!” Mae responded, horrified. “That’s a terrible thing.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Lonnie remarked humbly, “two good men, shot in the back.”

  “Why can’t you catch him?” Mae asked, finding it incredible that such a professional-looking group of gunmen could not capture one man. She began to think that maybe she and Hannah were both wrong about their feelings for Logan Cross.

  “We’ll get him,” Quincy said. “I’ll personally put him in the ground. Don’t you worry about that.”

  Daisy Welker, who had paused by the dining room door to listen to the conversation, offered a comment. “Well, I reckon it don’t make much sense to keep them two tables pushed together in the back corner, if there ain’t but two of you left.” When Mae frowned at her for her insensitive remark, Daisy responded with “Well, it don’t.”

  “We’re all sorry for the loss of your men,” Mae said.

  “I appreciate it, ma’am.” Quincy formed a kind smile for the two women. Looking at Daisy, he held the smile a little longer while thinking, If I catch you outside after dark, I’m going to break that sassy neck for you. Daisy smiled back at him, as if she had read his thoughts.

  “I suppose we’d best wash up a little before dinner,” Quincy said. “And I need to get somethin’ outta that other room before you clean it up.”

  When they had gone, Daisy walked over beside Mae and said, “Clean up that room—ha—might be easier to set it on fire, after those pigs have been sleepin’ there.”

  “I declare, Daisy, you don’t have an ounce of charity in your whole body. Those poor men died trying to uphold the law and protect helpless people like you and me.”

  “Ha!” Daisy snorted. “I reckon I don’t count myself as one of the helpless people. And lawmen or not, if a pussy cat’s got white stripes on his back, he’s a skunk, no matter how he purrs.”

  Mae raised her eyes to the ceiling and shook her head. “I’ll go tell Hannah the news about the lawmen.” She went to the kitchen.

  Busy rolling out biscuits to go into the oven, Hannah was as distressed as Mae had been to hear of the death of two more of the marshal’s men. Also like Mae’s, her distress was more for the disappointment she felt for Logan’s criminal behavior, and the tragedy of a good man who had chosen the wrong path in life. She found herself hoping that the marshal would finally be successful in capturing Logan before he killed anyone else.

  But why, she wondered, did Logan keep coming back when he should be running away? He should know that if he killed the marshal and his one surviving posse man, there would surely be another marshal sent to get him, maybe even a detachment of soldiers.

  “Maybe he knows something about that marshal that we don’t,” Daisy said, startling Hannah, who had been so deep in her thoughts that she didn’t hear the footsteps behind her.

  “Oh,” Hannah blurted. “I didn’t hear you come in. Maybe who knows something we don’t?”

  “The fellow you were thinkin’ about just then,” Daisy said. “You know, the one that saved your ass from starvin’ to death and brought you here safe and sound.”

  Immediately defensive, Hannah was quick to respond, “I’ll always be grateful to Logan for what he did for me. But things are different now. How can you condone what has happened since then?”

  “I don’t know,” Daisy answered stoically. “What does ‘condone’ mean?”

  Not certain if Daisy was japing her or not, Hannah said, “How can you ignore the fact that he’s killed all these men?”

  Daisy made a face while thinking that one over. “Well,” she finally answered, “that is something that I’m havin’ trouble wrappin’ my mind around. But if the Lord asked me which the world would be better off without, I’d still say get rid of that raunchy-lookin’ bunch ridin’ with the marshal and keep Logan Cross.”

  Hannah could only shake her head. There was no explaining Daisy’s way of thinking. One thing for sure, once the perplexing woman made up her mind about something, there was no changing it, even if Logan came in and shot everyone in town.

  “What is the marshal planning to do?” Hannah asked Mae. “Did he say?”

  “Nope, he didn’t say if he and that cousin of his were goin’ to go back lookin’ for Logan or not,” Mae said.

  “Probably just gonna sit around here and make puppy eyes at you,” Daisy said. “Twirl the ends of that pretty little mustache he’s so proud of and wait for you to swoon.”

  “Daisy!” Hannah scolded. “I don’t know where you come up with that nonsense. I’ll have you know I don’t swoon. Now, get busy and slice off some of that ham while I finish making these biscuits.”

  She was well aware of Quincy’s interest in her, but she was not sure she had any interest in him. She was flattered by his attention, at the same time cognizant of the fact that Mae was too old and Daisy, while as young as she, was by no means a beauty.

  I shouldn’t clutter my mind with such nonsense, she thought, scolding herself, and tried to turn her full concentration on the biscuit dough.

  * * *

  “I’ve been thinkin’ about what we’re doin’,” Lonnie said as he and Quincy searched every inch of the room Wormy and Stokes had occupied, hoping that they had not been carrying all their money in their saddlebags when they were shot. “Maybe this ain’t the smartest thing to do, sittin’ up here in town, waitin’ for that jasper to show up.”

  Quincy turned a canvas sack that had belonged to Wormy upside down, emptying the contents on the bed before responding to Lonnie’s remark. He threw the empty bag on the floor and glared at his cousin. “We done settled that. What’s the matter, Lonnie, are you gettin’ scared of that son of a bitch now?”

  “I reckon you know better’n that,” Lonnie answered patiently. “I just don’t think we oughta be takin’ him so lightly. He’s had a lot of good men goin’ after him, and somehow the bastard’s shaved us down to just you and me. I ain’t sure it’s luck, good for him, or bad for us. I’d just feel a lot more comfortable havin’ my rifle sighted on him out in the open when he ain’t lookin’ to get hit.”

  “What are you sayin’?” Quincy demanded. “You wanna take off and run?”

  “No, that ain’t what I’m sayin’. I’m sayin’ we ought not be holed up here in this house. We oughta ride back up the road above town and wait for the bastard to come along—find us a good spot to cut him down before he ever gets to town.”

  Quincy paused to think
about it. It did seem like a smart thing to do, but then he thought about lying up on a snowbank, shivering in the night wind.

  “There ain’t no tellin’ when he’s gonna show up, so we might as well wait right here where there’s a warm fire and hot coffee.” He lifted a corner of the mattress and peered under it. “Besides, we’re the law in town. We’ve got folks who’ll tip us off when he sets foot in Spearfish. Then we’ll just shoot him down, and it’ll be official business.” He flipped the mattress over on the floor. “You’re sayin’ he’ll be comin’ down the road to town. What if he don’t take the road? We’ll be settin’ out there freezin’ our asses off, and he’ll be in here by the fire.”

  “Well, I reckon there’s somethin’ to that, all right,” Lonnie said, reconsidering. “I was thinkin’ that if we were able to shoot him down on the road to town, we could just tell folks that he wouldn’t come peacefully, and we had to shoot him. If we just blast away at him when he comes through the door, we’ll have to explain why we didn’t give him a chance to give up. That might be what they would expect a marshal to do.” He shrugged. “Course, if we ain’t gonna try to keep them thinkin’ you’re a real marshal, it don’t make no difference how we kill him.”

  “I ain’t really worried about what the people of this town think. As many men as this bastard has killed, we’d be crazy not to shoot him on sight. And I think most every man in town would think the same thing.”

  “I s’pose you’re right,” Lonnie conceded.

  “I know I’m right. Now let’s go down and get some dinner.” They both checked to make sure their pistols were loaded. “Maybe we’ll have a guest show up to eat with us.”

  They paused at the dining room door to look the room over before entering and proceeding straight to the table in the back corner. Both men sat facing the door. Daisy could not help noticing their caution. “They look like they’re expectin’ trouble,” she said aside to Mae.

  “I hope to hell not,” Mae said, “not in my dinin’ room.” She walked over to the table then with the coffeepot. “I expect you’re wantin’ coffee. You usually do.” She turned two cups over and filled them.

  “Where’s Hannah?” Quincy asked.

  “In the kitchen,” Mae replied, “bakin’ biscuits.”

  “I like her to wait on us,” Quincy said, abandoning his usual charm that he customarily spread among all three of the women.

  “I’ll let her bring your plates out,” Mae said, and returned to the kitchen, where she told Hannah and Daisy of the marshal’s request.

  “You know, I’d kinda like to keep an eye on these biscuits,” Hannah said, mildly perturbed.

  “He requested you,” Mae said.

  “If they would sit at the big table with everybody else, it’d be a lot easier to serve them. And with just the two of them left, maybe they wouldn’t make the other customers nervous,” Hannah said, looking at Mae. “Will you watch my biscuits?” She was irritated because she would have to fix a plate for them, which was more trouble than walking the different bowls along the big table.

  “I’ll fix a couple of plates for you,” Daisy volunteered. “Then you can run out there with ’em.”

  “Thanks, Daisy,” Hannah said, and cracked the oven door to check the progress of the biscuits. “I want these to be perfect.”

  “No trouble a’tall,” Daisy said as she picked up two plates and went to the stove.

  She piled the plates high with food, the main course of which was cowboy stew. She picked out a little sliver of bone from the pot and started to discard it, then reconsidered and dropped it in the generous serving on one of the plates.

  We’ll see who the lucky winner is, she thought, depending upon who got the stew with the sharp piece of bone in it. When the plates were ready, she decided the beans needed a little thickening, so she glanced over her shoulder to make sure Mae and Hannah were too occupied to notice what she was doing. Satisfied, she cleared her throat and spat on both plates. There, that’s better, she thought, and stirred the beans thoroughly.

  “Here you go, honey,” she said, and held the plates out for Hannah to deliver.

  “I’ll bring out some fresh biscuits in just a minute of two,” Hannah told them when she set their plates down before the two outlaws.

  “You’re lookin’ as pretty as a prairie flower today,” Quincy said, causing her to blush.

  “Well, that’s nice of you to say, but I doubt I look very fresh,” she said. “I’ve been working in the kitchen all day.”

  “Maybe you oughta get outside in the cool air after dinner,” he said. “I’d be proud to escort you on a little walk.”

  Already attacking his plate of food, Lonnie paused to cast a critical eye at his cousin, wondering if Quincy had forgotten the little problem they had. “I reckon you’re forgettin’ that little piece of business we’ve got to tend to, Marshal.”

  “I ain’t forgot,” Quincy said, annoyed by Lonnie’s remark. “But I’ve always got time for the prettiest woman east of the Rockies.”

  He flashed his toothy smile at Hannah, who was undecided how she should respond to the compliment. So she smiled shyly and spun around to return to the kitchen.

  “I figure you’re just funnin’ with that woman,” Lonnie said as he stuffed another huge mouthful of stew in his mouth. “Leastways, I hope to hell you are.” A moment later, he cried out in pain, “Damn!” His outcry startled everyone in the dining room. “I’ve been stabbed!”

  In the kitchen, Daisy paused as she filled another bowl of beans for the long table. “We have a winner,” she announced softly.

  A wide smile of satisfaction spread across her face as Mae went out to apologize for the bone in the stew.

  * * *

  It was already late in the morning when the lone rider leading the buckskin horse rode slowly toward the stable at the edge of town. A light snowfall dropped softly on the street, rutted with the passing of oxen and mules. He thought about the first time he had ridden into the little settlement. It was a friendly town then, with friendly people, eager to help Hannah and him. But so much had changed since that first visit, and he was not certain what kind of reception he might receive this time around.

  He pulled up before reaching the door of the stable to consider the wisdom of this latest visit. Pepper was in dire need of grain, more so than the buckskin, which had been well taken care of by Ox. The decision to be made was whether or not to risk leaving his horses at the stable for the short time he intended to be there. He could not be sure that he would not need his horses in a hurry. He was not even sure that the two men he sought were in town. Sam should be able to tell him. He always had good relations with Sam Taylor the few times he had been to his stable. His mind made up, he decided that Sam would take care of his horses without spreading word that he was in town, so he stepped down and went in the stable.

  “Oh . . . ,” Sam started when he turned around and saw Logan walk in. “You kinda startled me,” he said. “I didn’t hear you ride up.”

  It was obvious that his sudden appearance had caused a considerable amount of nervousness on the part of the stable owner, so Logan sought to put him at ease. “I need to put my horses up for a little while, if it’s all right with you. I might be needin’ ’em in a hurry, so I’ll just leave Pepper’s saddle on him till I know for sure. All right?”

  “Sure, Logan, anything you say,” Sam replied.

  “Course, I expect to pay for a full day, even if I do wanna leave in a hurry. Tell you the truth, I’m more interested in feedin’ Pepper some grain. He don’t do too good, feedin’ on nothin’ but grass.”

  He could tell by Sam’s worried expression that he wasn’t comfortable talking to him. Too much had happened since Logan first came to town, and most of it was bad. He decided to get right to the point.

  “You need to know somethin’, you and everybody else in town. That ma
rshal ain’t no real marshal. He’s just a damn outlaw out to get me. He’s got all you folks fooled into thinkin’ he’s out to arrest me, but it’s killin’ he’s got in mind. He’s after me because I shot his brother, but his brother had it comin’. He murdered my brother. So now you know why I’ve got to finish this thing between him and me. I’m not wanted by the law anywhere.”

  He paused to study Sam’s reaction to what he had just been told. There was no visible clue that would tell him what Sam was thinking. His jaw was hanging slightly open, and his eyes seemed glazed and expressionless. Logan had expected a greater response. After a few moments when Sam failed to remark, Logan asked, “Are those two in town, Quincy and his cousin?”

  “I reckon,” Sam finally said. “They left their horses here.”

  “They still roomin’ at Mae’s house?” Logan asked. Sam didn’t speak but nodded slowly. “All right, well, good, then,” Logan said when it appeared that Sam was too stunned to speak intelligently. “I’ll be on my way. Don’t forget to feed Pepper some grain. Might as well give ’em both some grain.” He received another slow nod in response.

  He left Sam standing there holding Pepper’s reins and started walking the almost fifty yards from the stable to the Three Widows. He thought about Sam as he walked. The normally talkative stable owner seemed to have been struck dumb by Logan’s sudden appearance and the story he told. It was not surprising, since the town had bought Quincy Morgan’s story, lock, stock, and barrel.

  As he approached the boardinghouse, he became more careful. With his rifle ready, he stepped up onto the porch and stopped beside a front window to take a look at what he would be walking into. Through the sheer window curtain, he could see an empty parlor and the open door to the dining room.

  Dinnertime, he figured. Good, that’s better than having to go upstairs to search for them in their rooms.

  He turned away when a last-minute patron ran up the steps and went in, anxious to get a place at the table before the choice cuts were taken. The man seemed to pay no attention to Logan standing there, so Logan followed him inside, but stopped beside the dining room door before walking in. He scanned the room. The long table in the center was about half-full, so he shifted his gaze to the table in the back corner apart from the other customers. He had had no more than a glimpse of Quincy and Lonnie Morgan as they fled down the road to Spearfish the day before, but there was no doubt in his mind who they were. While he watched, Hannah came from the kitchen and carried a platter of some kind of meat to them. Logan waited until she returned to the kitchen. It was better that there were no other diners close to the corner table, for no one else should be injured in the actions he was about to take.