Torture Town

by William W. Johnstone

  The next morning, Matt stood at the window of his hotel room, looking out onto Central Street. The morning commerce of the town was under way, and as he watched he saw that there was definite separation, with men and women moving up and down the boardwalks on one side or the other. Not once did he see anyone cross the street.

  He heard the sound of the bed behind him and, looking back, saw that Lois, the woman who had walked him to his hotel room last night, had changed position. Her movement had caused the sheet to pull back from her shoulder, exposing a bare breast. He went over to pull the sheet back up.

  Without opening her eyes, Lois smiled. “It’s a little late to be worryin’ about my modesty now, isn’t it?”

  “I suppose it is,” Matt admitted. “But you were asleep, and I don’t like to take advantage of anyone who is vulnerable.”

  “Yes, I saw that yesterday when you let Mr. Carter go.”

  “Did you now?”

  “Oh, my goodness,” Lois said. “You should see your poor eye.”

  “Yeah? Well, if you think it looks bad from over there, you should see it from my side.”

  Lois laughed. “Does it hurt?”

  “It’s not the best feeling thing I’ve ever had,” Matt replied. “At least the swelling is gone and I can see out of it now.”

  “It sure is black.”

  “Don’t remind me. Listen, I’m hungry. What do you say we go downstairs and have breakfast?”

  “Oh, honey, I’m not sure I’d be welcome there,” Lois said. “In case you haven’t figured it out yet, I’m what they call a soiled dove.”

  Matt chuckled. “You mean it wasn’t my handsome looks and sparkling personality that attracted you?”

  “Well, yes, it was,” Lois said. “That and the five dollars,” she added with a chuckle.

  “Come on, you’ll be welcome. You’ll be with me.”

  “All right, if you say so,” Lois said a bit apprehensively.

  There were a few stares when Lois stepped into the dining room, but when Matt offered her his arm, no one progressed beyond what were obviously disapproving stares.

  Matt led Lois to a table, and even held the chair for her as she sat down.

  “Did you see that, Martha?” some man hissed. “That man held the chair out for that whore, just like she was a lady or something.”

  Matt heard the remark, and he looked at the speaker with an intimidating glare.

  “Let’s go, Martha,” the man said to his wife.

  “Go where? Marvin, I haven’t even finished my breakfast,” Martha said.

  “Let’s go,” Marvin repeated, more urgently this time. Taking his wife by the arm, he physically removed her from the dining room.

  When Marvin and Martha left the dining room, Marvin left back a copy of the newspaper, and excusing himself for the moment, Matt walked over to pick it up.

  Four Citizens Murdered in Cold Blood

  Bodies Found on the Road

  Keith Ziegenhorn, Dewey Gimlin, Walter Bizzel, and Tom Dunaway, all good and upstanding citizens of our fair city, were found murdered. Their bodies were discovered early this morning by Mitchell Phelps as he was driving his freight wagon to Valencia to pick up a load from the railroad terminal.

  It appeared as if they had been set upon by men so foul as to defy description, for all four had been shot many times, the pistol balls taking terrible effect.

  It is not believed that these murders are connected with the ongoing feud between the BR Ranch and the Tumbling P, as none of the men were employed by either ranch. Their deaths however, cannot but add to the melancholy that has settled upon our town with the previous demise of Seth Miller and Jimmy Patterson.

  As Matt was reading the newspaper, three men, Alan Blanton, Jack Martin, and Bob Dempster, were meeting in the newspaper office. They were meeting there because Alan Blanton, who was the mayor of the town, was also the editor of the newspaper. They were discussing the four bodies that had been found on the road.

  “Why were they killed?” Martin asked. “I know that none of them had anything to do with the BR or the Tumbling P.”

  “That’s the mystery of it,” Blanton said. “For some reason this feud seems to be expanding, and we need to find out why.”

  “We need to do more than that,” Dempster said. “We not only need to find out why, we need to find some way of dealing with it.”

  Blanton shook his head. “There’s no way Hunter can deal with it. Even if he could, he couldn’t, this happened outside of town.”

  “It’s going to spread into town, and it’s going to do that soon, if we don’t do something about it,” Dempster said.

  “Do what about it? Do you have any ideas?”

  “Yes,” Dempster answered. “I do have an idea.”

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Matt was enjoying his breakfast with Lois, and was now on his second cup of coffee and a second batch of pancakes when three men approached the table. All of them were wearing suits, none were wearing guns.

  “Do you know them?” Matt asked.

  “The short, baldheaded man is Alan Blanton. He is the editor of the newspaper, and the mayor of the town,” Lois whispered. “The tall, thin man is Jack Martin. He owns a hardware store. The fat man with a round face and glasses is Bob Dempster. He is a lawyer.”

  “Yes, I saw Dempster in the saloon yesterday. Do you think they are a committee come to talk to me about the company I keep?”

  “No, I don’t think so,” Lois said. “From time to time, the mayor has been . . .” Lois paused, looking for the word, before she finished her sentence. “A guest of mine,” she concluded.

  Matt smiled. “That’s good to know.”

  “Mr. Jensen, please excuse us for disturbing you at your breakfast, but I wonder if we might have a few words with you?” Blanton asked.

  “Go right ahead, Mayor,” Matt replied. “As long as the young lady and I don’t have to stop eating.”

  Matt carved off a large piece of ham and stuck it in his mouth.

  “I was just wondering . . . that is, we were wondering, how long you are planning on staying around our town?”

  Matt took a swallow of coffee to wash down the ham, and he studied the mayor and his delegation over the cup rim.

  “Are you telling me that you want me to leave your town?” he asked, calmly.

  “What? No!” the mayor barked. “Heavens, no, nothing like that. I hope you wouldn’t think that.”

  “Well, normally when a mayor and a delegation make a special visit to see me, then ask how long I’m planning to stay, their next comment is a suggestion that I leave. You asked me how long I was planning to stay—what did you expect me to think?”

  “I’m sorry. I meant in no way to infer that.”

  “All right. Then, just what is it you want?”

  “The way things are in this town, now, Marshal Hunter has more than he can handle, and that leaves us, virtually, a town without law. And no town can afford to be without law,” Dempster said.

  “Marshal Hunter is doing the best he can, under the circumstances,” Martin added. “But the problem with Hunter is the same problem that any local resident would have. You may not realize it, having just arrived in town, but we are a town divided.”

  “Yes, so I have noticed. You are divided by the north and south side of the street,” Matt said.

  “Yes, so you do know.”

  Matt shook his head. “No, I don’t, not really. I know there seems to be some significance as to whether someone is on the north or the south side of the street, but I don’t know what is so important about that.”

  “We are a town at war with itself,” Dempster explained. “Our two most substantial citizens are in the midst of a feud that goes back well over twenty years. And, in the last few weeks it has gotten worse. Much worse.”

  “Worse in what way?”

  “Well, as of last night, the total number of killings has risen to six,” Blanton said.

  “Six?
” Lois said, surprised by the information. “I know that one of Mr. Ross’s men, Seth Miller, was killed. And I know that young Jimmy Patterson, from the Tumbling P was killed. You’re saying four more were killed last night?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, which ranch were they from?”

  “That’s just it. None of them were riders for either Ross or Poindexter. In fact, all four of them worked in town. Ziegenhorn, Gimlin, Bizzel, and Dunaway.

  “Gimlin? Dewey Gimlin?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, he was such a nice man,” Lois said. “But I don’t understand. What did any of them have to do with the feud?”

  “That’s just it,” Blanton said. “They didn’t have anything to do with it at all. It’s now gone beyond the two ranches.”

  “How long has this feud been going on?” Matt asked.

  “Twenty years. But up until the last few weeks, it had just been that. A feud. Oh, there have been a few fistfights now and then, but nobody had ever been killed before.”

  “And you say this increase in activity has just happened?” Matt asked.

  “Yes, and that’s what’s so strange about it. I mean, why now, after all these years?”

  “There’s some skullduggery going on somewhere, that’s for sure,” Martin said. “And I’m not all that sure that Ross or Poindexter are even behind it.”

  “If you ask me, it’s Bodine and Strawn,” Dempster said.

  “Strawn? Would that be Sam Strawn?” Matt asked.

  “Yes, do you know him?”

  “I’ve met him,” Matt said.

  “Well, here’s the thing. Bodine and Strawn are bitter enemies. They are about as bitter as Ross and Poindexter,” Dempster said. “And as Bodine is working for Ross, and Strawn is working for Poindexter, I wouldn’t be in the least surprised if they weren’t carrying on their own personal battle, just using the feud between the BR and the Tumbling P as an excuse.”

  “What do you mean, working for them?” Matt asked. “You don’t mean they are cowboys, do you?”

  “Ha! No, sir, nothin’ like that,” Martin said. “They’re callin’ themselves cattle detectives. But the truth is, they ain’t nothin’ more’n hired guns.”

  “When did these cattle detectives begin? It can’t be too long ago, because it wasn’t more than a few weeks ago that I saw Strawn.”

  “It’s only been for a few weeks,” Blanton said. “Bodine started for Ross at the same time Strawn started for Poindexter.”

  “That’s a little strange, don’t you think? I mean that they have no history of using hired guns, then they both hire someone at about the same time.”

  “Well, yes, I suppose so,” Blanton said. “On the other hand, if one of them took on a hired gun, then I guess the other one would just about have to.”

  “Anyway,” Dempster said, “you can see where that leaves the county, and most of all, where that leaves Thirty Four Corners. If this thing breaks out into an all-out shooting war . . .”

  “And it spreads into the town . . . ,” Martin added.

  “A lot of innocent people could wind up getting killed,” Dempster concluded.

  “And that’s why we have come to you,” Blanton said.

  “Why have you come to me? What do you expect from me?” Matt asked. “Are you asking me to be a deputy to Marshal Hunter?”

  “No, sir, that wouldn’t give you any authority beyond the city limits, and you’d be as limited in what you can do as the marshal is now,” Dempster said.

  “So what we have done is, we have spoken to Sheriff Bill Ferrell, and he has agreed to appoint a deputy of our choosing,” Blanton said.

  “And we choose you,” Dempster said. “That is, if you will accept the position. And as a deputy sheriff, you will have authority throughout all of Valencia County. That takes in the BR, the Tumbling P, and Wedge Hill.”

  “Wedge Hill?”

  “It’s a much smaller ranch that is sort of tucked in between part of the two big ranches,” Martin said.

  “Which side is Wedge Hill on?” Matt said.

  “Neither side. So far, Kyle Stallings has managed to maintain a relationship with both ranchers.”

  Matt nodded. “That’s good information to know.”

  “So, what do you say, Mr. Jensen? We come to you in good faith. Will you accept our offer?”

  “When you say ‘we come to you in good faith,’ what ‘we’ are you talking about?” Matt asked.

  “We, meaning the three of us,” Blanton replied. “We are the town council. Mr. Dempster and Mr. Martin are two of the four members of the council.”

  “That’s only half. What about the other members? What do they say?”

  “I’ve spoken with the other members of the council, and they, too, support this,” Dempster said.

  “But it wouldn’t matter whether they did or not,” Blanton said. “Because if it actually came down to it, as mayor, I could break a tie vote.”

  “Let me ask you this. Which side of this feud are you three on? If I am perceived as allying myself with one side, how effective could I be?”

  “That is a very good question,” Blanton replied. “As the editor of the newspaper, I have tried to stay out it.”

  “My law office is on the north side of the street,” Dempster said.

  “And I own a store on the south side,” Martin added.

  Blanton smiled. “So you see, it is a bipartisan committee that has come to you.”

  “What can you tell me about Lucien Bodine?”

  “You mean you don’t know him?” Blanton asked.

  Matt shook his head. “I’ve never heard of him. I’ve heard of Strawn, I’ve seen Strawn. But I’ve never seen nor heard of anyone named Lucien Bodine.”

  “I wish I could tell you something about him, but I don’t know anything about him either,” Blanton said.

  “What about Marshal Hunter? Does the marshal know Bodine?”

  “No,” Blanton said. “I was with the marshal when we were trying to find out something about him. Whoever he is, and wherever he is from, he has managed to stay out of the newspapers, and off any wanted markers. There is absolutely no paper out on him at all.”

  Matt drummed his fingers on the table for a moment. The last thing he needed was to get involved in someone else’s feud. He was about to say no; then he thought about Rufus Draco.

  Matt had lost all track of Rufus Draco, though he had trailed him to within a few miles of this place. And, if there was some skullduggery going on, some means of using this feud to make a dishonest dollar, Matt was sure that Rufus Draco would be right in the middle of it.

  “Have any of you gentlemen ever heard of a man name Rufus Draco?” Matt asked.

  The three men looked at each other.

  “I’ve heard of him,” Blanton said. “I’ve even run a few articles in my paper about him. Why do you ask?”

  “I’ve been looking for Draco,” Matt said. “He murdered some friends of mine and I trailed him down here to New Mexico before I lost track of him. If there is skullduggery going on down here, I wouldn’t put it past Draco to be a part of it.”

  Blanton shook his head. “No, I don’t think he has anything to do with it.”

  “Would you recognize him if you saw him?” Matt asked.

  “Yes, I think I would,” Blanton said. “I remember his trial from a few years ago, when he killed that mill worker. I covered the trial and I saw him in court every day for a week. Yes, I would recognize him if I saw him again.”

  Matt had served as a lawman before, including as a deputy United States marshal. And if he had the cover of the law here, it might help him continue his search for Draco.

  “All right,” he said. “I’ll do it.”

  “Fine, great, wonderful!” the three men said, all speaking at once. Then, one by one, they extended their hands to shake hands with Matt.

  “The sheriff will be here about noon,” Blanton said. “Come on down to the newspaper office, and we’
ll swear you in.”

  “You haven’t even asked how much the job will pay,” Dempster said.

  “I don’t care what it pays,” Matt replied.

  Lois had been quiet during the entire meeting between Matt and the officials of the town. Not until after the three officials of the town left did she speak.

  “I hope you don’t take your job of being a deputy sheriff too seriously,” Lois said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “What I, and my friends, do, is against the law,” Lois reminded him.

  Matt chuckled. “Don’t worry, I have no intention of closing down bawdy houses. You and your friends are safe with me.”

  “Will you want the same arrangement that Marshal Hunter has?” Lois asked.

  “Arrangement? What sort of arrangement would that be?”

  “You know,” Lois answered with a coy smile. “An . . . arrangement.” She came down hard on the word arrangement.

  “Oh, yes, I think I do see,” Matt replied. “But that won’t be necessary.”

  Chapter Twenty-three

  It was after 9:00 P.M. and dark when Rex Ross crossed from BR Ranch property onto Wedge Hill land. It was fairly easy to do. There was no barbed-wire fence that separated the two ranches, and Kyle Stallings didn’t waste any man hours keeping an eye on the separation between his land and BR land.

  Rex rode as quietly as he could, staying also in the shadows so that if one of the Wedge Hill riders happened to pass by closer than he anticipated, there would be less chance they would actually see him. He crossed over the wedge, reaching the side that bordered onto the Tumbling P without incident.

  Now it was time for a decision. Did he stay mounted? If he was seen, he would have a better chance of escape by galloping away. On the other hand if he went the rest of the distance on foot, he would have a better chance of not being seen at all. Rex decided to go the rest of the way on foot, and he tied his horse to a shrub down in an arroyo so it wouldn’t be seen.

  It was about a two-mile walk from here to the big house, and there was always the possibility that he would be seen by some of the nighthawks. It would be bad enough to be seen by some of the regular cowboys, but if any of the new men Poindexter had hired were to see him, he knew that he would be shot.