“You may be hanged in a few days. That’s punishment enough. Any other judgment you get before or after that won’t be done by me.”
“So…I might as well have a full stomach before I get dipped into the hellfire?”
Although she barely moved, a quiet giggle drifted through the jail before it was quickly stifled. “Something like that,” she said. “Although I wouldn’t have put it in such drastic terms.”
“A friend of mine used to say that.”
“One of those killers who got away?”
“No,” Eli replied with a faraway tone in his voice. “Not one of them. A real friend.”
He heard a slight rustle as he ate some more of his snack. It came from Lyssa as she eased herself down to sit with her back against the wall directly in front of his cell. That only put her about two paces from the bars, but she might as well have been a mile away.
“So, does the sheriff know you’re here?” he asked.
“Of course he does. You think I have my own key to the jailhouse?”
“Are you armed?”
“No.”
“Then you took an awful risk coming in here just to deliver food. What if I’d gotten the drop on you?”
“You did get the drop on me,” she reminded him.
“No, I mean what if…” Although he knew where that thought was headed, Eli didn’t want to make it a real thing by giving it words and a voice. Instead, he cleaned it up by asking, “What if things had turned out worse?”
“One of the sheriff’s men is right outside,” she said. “All I needed to do was scream or make any other sort of noise to attract his attention and he would have come in here to…” Apparently, she didn’t like where her thoughts were headed either and completed her statement with “I would have been fine.”
Eli took a moment to think back to their brief struggle over the keys. It had seemed like a chaotic mess of arms, bars, and straining muscles, but he had to admit it hadn’t been enough to draw much attention. He’d wanted to keep as quiet as possible and she had refrained from doing much more than pulling in her next breath. “Why didn’t you scream?” he asked.
“You sure ask a lot of questions. Most men would be grateful for something to eat apart from that horrible oatmeal we serve everyone else.”
“I’m curious. Also, a man tends to think about a lot of things when he’s locked up inside a box.”
She scooted a little closer, perhaps to get a better look at him or maybe to allow him to get a better look at her. Lyssa’s face was calm. Despite everything that had happened, she appeared as if she was simply serving him a late-night snack. “All right, then. I’ll answer your question if you answer mine. Agreed?”
“Depends on what the question is.”
Unafraid of venturing out first, she asked, “Why did you attack me?”
“I wouldn’t call that much of an attack. It was more of a surprise with a sharp twist.”
She let out an uneasy laugh. “If that’s not an attack, I’d hate to see what you would have done to fit the bill.”
Eli could tell she was joking, which meant she truly didn’t know how much worse it could have been. Jake bragged about the things he’d done to punish a deputy in Amarillo who’d strayed too close to the bars when he’d been making his rounds. Eli wasn’t the sort to visit that kind of torture upon someone, but he could have made things a whole lot more uncomfortable without much effort. Rather than get into all of that, he asked, “Did I hurt you?”
She shifted her weight and, from what he could see in the shadows, rubbed her wrists one at a time. “A little.”
“Sorry about that.”
“Instead of apologizing, why don’t you answer my question?”
“You seriously need an answer?”
“Yes!” she exclaimed, and then shot a quick glance toward the front door of the jailhouse. Suddenly she seemed more like a girl who’d snuck into a boy’s room instead of someone talking to a wanted outlaw.
“I need to get out of here,” he said. “Or have you already forgotten I’m to be hanged soon?”
“Guess I just wasn’t expecting something like that from you.”
“If you bring food to prisoners on a regular basis, you should be expecting that or worse.”
“Well, I don’t really bring food in like this to other prisoners. As far as I know, the sheriff doesn’t get many prisoners anyway. Certainly not many that are set to be hanged.” Even in the dark, Eli could tell she winced when saying that. There was a leaden pause, followed by a meek “I’m sorry to talk about it like that.”
“It’s all right. So I’m a special case?”
Lyssa must have been hanging her head low, because he couldn’t see any part of her face when she said, “That’s more than the question we agreed upon.”
“I suppose it is. You still owe me one, though.”
“Was that all of the answer I’m to get? You attacked me because you needed to get out? I don’t think that’s all there is.”
“It was instinct,” he said with a sigh. “I woke up in this cell. My head feels like it was split in two and nailed back together. Your sheriff won’t let me forget about the noose with my name on it. I hear someone come in carrying keys. I saw a chance to grab them and get out. I took it. When I saw you, though, I…I just couldn’t get myself to…”
“I know,” she whispered while standing up and dusting herself off. “That’s why I didn’t scream.”
Chapter 7
A few more days passed.
The ache in Eli’s head became a distant thump at the back of his mind. It wasn’t the first time he’d taken knocks to the head, which was probably why each new one hurt more and lingered longer than the last. Then there were the headaches that came and went for no reason. Those made everything above his neck feel as if it had been dipped into melted lead. Those could have come from another source that had been with him for a few years and wouldn’t go away any time soon. Whether these aches were the same as the ones that caused him to rot from the inside out or they were just lumps from the sheriff’s revolver, all he knew was that they got worse the more he tried to make them feel better.
Lyssa brought him his meals twice a day and sat to talk to him while he ate. For the most part, they discussed various kinds of nonsense. Since none of the discussions drifted in the vicinity of past crimes or the men who’d ridden with him, he welcomed them. Spending time on the trail with the likes of Jake and Hank meant Eli had gotten his fill of gruesome boasts and violent plans. He did his share of stealing because it was a way to put food on his plate. Bragging about it was akin to a blacksmith strutting around because he’d shoed another horse. He was a blacksmith. What else was he supposed to do with his time?
When he heard the jailhouse door open late one afternoon, he didn’t get his hopes up. Breakfast had already been served and it was too early for supper. That narrowed down the possibilities where his visitor was concerned. The heavier crunch of boots against a dirty floor confirmed his suspicions enough for him to wager an educated guess before anyone stepped into his line of sight.
“Hello, Sheriff,” Eli grunted.
Sure enough, Saunders approached the bars with his thumbs hooked over the top of his gun belt. “Hello, yourself. Feeling any better?”
“Fine and dandy.”
“Good to hear.”
“Why? Because I don’t have many days left and I should enjoy them while I’m still breathing?”
The lawman chuckled. “Them threats are wearin’ thin, are they?”
“Something like that.”
“So I’ll stop tossing ’em at you. How’s that?”
Eli sat up. “It’s a good start. It’d make my day even brighter if you opened that door and stepped aside.”
“Sorry, Eli. That ain’t about to happen.”
“I preferred it when you called me Mr. Barlow.”
“And I preferred it when I was in my bed this mornin’ with my boots off and my wife in my
arms. We can’t always live in the sweet spot, you know.”
“Yeah. I know. What brings you here?”
It always seemed as if Saunders plucked his chair from nowhere whenever he reached over to grab it. Like every other time he’d gone through the routine, he set the chair down directly in front of the cell and then lowered himself onto it with half a wheeze. “Well, since you asked, I’m here to make you an offer.”
“Unless it’s got to do with getting me out of here, I’m not interested.”
“Come to think of it, that’s exactly what’s involved.”
Eli reflexively scooted to perch upon the edge of the cot like a bird that was about to take flight. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
In the short time he’d known the lawman, there were already a few habits that had cropped up that grated on Eli’s nerves. One was the sheriff’s penchant for repeating certain phrases when he spoke. Another was his affinity for long pauses before getting down to whatever it was he wanted to say. Normally, Eli was content to let the sheriff dawdle as much as he liked. This time, however, wasn’t so easy. “Spit it out, already,” Eli snapped.
“Hank was spotted in Cheyenne again. This time, lurking outside a bank.”
No matter what Eli thought of Hank as a person, he had to respect him for the job he did. Hank prided himself on being able to sneak in and out of just about anywhere without raising an eyebrow and had earned every bit of that pride. If he’d been spotted and word had spread, Hank was either slipping or…
“You’re lying,” Eli said.
“You sure about that?”
“Whether you are or aren’t, what do you want me to do about it?”
“Help me track down Jake and the rest of his gang,” Saunders replied.
“You’re the one with all the hints and sightings coming to you from whatever sources you’re supposed to have. What do you need my help for?”
The sheriff adjusted his position in the chair so he was perched on it in a fashion similar to Eli’s on the edge of his cot. “Because,” he said, “that one-eyed fella was spotted after some of those men at the Lazy V followed him away from the ranch. They picked up the Welles Gang’s trail several times between here and Cheyenne. Caught sight of one man here and there, but it wasn’t more than a fleeting glimpse before those killers disappeared like smoke in the wind. I think they’re still there, even if those men who sent word to me gave up the hunt.”
That was more like it. The relief Eli felt wasn’t on account of his former partners being out and about, but because the lawmen on Jake’s tail had already lost him. Then a familiar suspicious jab took some of the wind from Eli’s sails. “Why would you tell me all of this?” he asked.
“Because, if we’re to work together, I thought we should start off on the right foot. All cards on the table and such.”
Eli laughed to himself and shook his head. “Only men who rarely play poker are such advocates of showing your cards.”
“You got me there.”
“I don’t trust men who don’t gamble.”
“Well, I’m taking the mother lode of all gambles right now,” Saunders told him. “There are men in this town who’ve been hounding me to not only string you up, but make a show of it. If they knew I was having a civilized conversation with you like this, they might reconsider my appointment as sheriff.”
“Aw, now, that would be a crying shame.”
Saunders was losing his patience, but did so with quiet reserve. He stood up with a grunt, removed the hat from his head, and ran his hand through hair that seemed incapable of being anything but tangled. Placing the hat on his head and putting it perfectly in line helped him settle his anxiety somewhat. “If you’d rather I leave you to rot, just say the word and I’ll leave. Them local men I mentioned before would be all too happy to string you up and cheer when your feet start to kick.”
Although Eli jumped up in a burst that sent a clatter through the jailhouse as his cot was knocked against the wall, Sheriff Saunders didn’t flinch. “You can parade all the folks you want in front of me who want to see me dead,” Eli roared. “And you can mention that noose all you want, because it don’t matter! I’m dead anyways, so I’d rather not be remembered as a man who stabbed his friends in the back before he was put down like a dog.”
“You’re no dog, Eli.”
“Whatever you want to call it, the story ends the same way.”
“Doesn’t have to.”
No matter how much Eli railed within that cell, Saunders stood his ground and calmly watched. Panting from the effort it had taken to shove his cot back, stomp his feet, and holler at the top of his lungs, Eli asked, “Why stand in the way of those men who want to hang me? In fact, why the hell haven’t you strung me up yet?”
“Because,” Saunders replied as if he was stating the world’s plainest fact, “you’re not a killer.”
“You were at the Lazy V. You saw us at work.”
“I was there and yes, I was watching as best I could from inside that dusty old barn. The man who commissioned that iron wagon to be built insisted on all the extra gun hands he could muster to be there to greet you, but I insisted on watching to see what developed before charging out with guns blazing. That way, I could get a look at who I was dealing with before sending them to meet their maker. I saw Jacob Welles live up to every unflattering word that’s ever been written about him. Not a lot’s known about that one-eyed fellow, but I learned more than enough to shoot him on sight if he ever got too close. That one with the big head, Cody, I believe his name was, he just seems to be wild and stupid. Even so, he fired at anyone the other two told him to. That makes him dangerous. You, on the other hand, just wanted to get at that money.”
“How do you know what I wanted?”
“Because I make my living off of being able to read a man based on what he does, how he carries himself, even how he holds a gun in his hand. Every one of those things will tell you plenty if you’re willing to look. I couldn’t see everything from that barn, but I did see you riding like a man on a mission. Surprised the living daylights out of me and everyone else at that ranch. Even though we were all expecting some kind of foolish charge, you still got close enough to give everyone a fright. Well done.”
Eli had felt a wide range of emotions in a short span of time. They’d ranged from boredom, aggravation, and rage. Now he felt genuinely confused.
Picking up on that like he seemed to pick up on everything else, Saunders said, “Even if that barn had been a mile away, I could’ve seen the joy written across your face when you rode in to scatter all of them guards. You and Jacob were in your element, that’s for certain. One big difference being that Welles wanted to spill blood and you were after something different.”
“So you can read a man’s mind?” Eli grunted. “See what’s on his soul?”
“Not hardly.”
“Then how do you know what I was thinking?”
“If you were just out for a ride, you wouldn’t have been anywhere near that ranch. You’re a member of a gang that don’t usually have many members. Do you know how many other men rode with Jacob Welles at any given time over the last seven years?”
“Three or four,” Eli said.
“That’s right, so you must have some talent as well as a propensity for breaking the law.”
“I’ve reached my limit,” Eli sighed as he turned his back to the bars and walked toward the back of the cell until he could place both hands flat upon a wall. “I’m sick of hearing you talk.”
“See now, this is where you being in there comes in real handy,” Saunders said while banging his knuckles against the front of Eli’s cell. “I get to talk all I want and you’ll listen. Mostly, I want you to hear the rest of what I have to say because it goes straight back to the offer I made earlier. You know…the one where you get to avoid being hanged?”
Eli sighed heavily, knowing there wasn’t anything he could say or do to make the lawman shut up.
“The men who wanted that wagon protected represent the interests of a few different shipping companies. They meant to pay a bunch of gunmen to do the job,” Saunders continued. “When I caught wind of it, I put my foot down. After all, protecting stages from being robbed is a lawman’s duty and having it happen so close to this town made it my duty. I allowed them to bring a few of their own in because it was their property being protected, but I insisted on being there with men of my own. Wasn’t a popular decision, but I suppose it was too late for them to do much about it.
“When your gang showed up, the idea was for all of you to be killed in such a way that would send a message to anyone else looking to steal from these gentlemen or their ridiculous iron wagons.”
“That wagon was as loud as she was slow,” Eli grumbled. “When we were moving it after stealing it, we had to fight just to keep the thing from tipping over.”
Saunders laughed and settled back onto his chair. “They do tend to flip over on their own. Heard as much from one of the men hired to guard it this far while we were holed up in that barn. And if them bindings holding the plates to those posts are cut or if the posts themselves are cracked, the iron shell drops quicker than a set of britches in a cathouse.”
As much as he wanted to hold back, Eli couldn’t help laughing at that. He chalked it up to being overly tired.
“Since them wagons look better than they drive,” Saunders went on to say, “those rich fellas needed to make certain outlaws thought twice about approaching them in the first place.”
“None of us cared much about the specifics of why those guards wanted to drop us,” Eli explained.
“Maybe not, but specifics are very important to a man in my line of work.”
Although he hadn’t been running on the wrong side of the law as long as Jake or Hank, Eli had seen enough to tell him that plenty of lawmen out there were only concerned with the specifics regarding how money would be put into their pockets. Judging by the sorry state of this sheriff’s clothes, hair, and boots, he couldn’t account for much more than the paltry sum allotted by any small town to compensate a sheriff for his time.
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