Midnight Rider (Ralph Cotton Western Series)

by Ralph Cotton

  Ray saw his horse standing bareback. He sighed, knowing what that meant.

  “Of all the sumbitches I could have robbed…,” he said, and he lay back down on the ground and closed his eyes.

  Hearing the firing stop in the clearing below, Rock loaded the bodies over their horses’ backs and tied them wrists to boots under the horses’ bellies with rope he’d taken from Fackler’s saddle horn. He stepped back into his saddle with the three horses’ reins in hand, turned them to the trail and led them down.

  Chapter 12

  In front of the shack, the Stillwater Giant stood drinking water from a canteen, watching as Rochenbach approached, leading the three horses and their grisly loads behind him. On the ground beside the Giant, Pres Casings sat stooped over Latner Karr, holding a bottle of whiskey to the wounded old outlaw’s lips.

  “Dang,” said the Giant in his deep voice. “It looks like Rock kilt all three of them.”

  “I’m not surprised,” said Casings. He looked out at Rochenbach for a moment, then back to Karr, who lay sprawled in the dirt in his long johns, leaning back against the porch, his chest covered with blood.

  “Want me to take a look at it?” Casings asked, nodding at the blood-soaked, wadded bandanna Karr held against a gaping exit wound in his chest.

  “You never… seen one?” Karr asked in a strained voice.

  “I thought I might help you some way,” Casings said.

  “Just keep that whiskey bottle close… ’til I fade on out of here,” said Karr. Still, he raised the bandanna for a second and let Casings get a look at the bleeding fist-sized hole in his chest.

  Rochenbach stepped down from his saddle and stood over the downed outlaw. The Stillwater Giant took the reins to the three horses and tied them to a hitch rail. Rock caught a glimpse of the bullet hole in Karr’s chest before Karr closed the bandanna down over it.

  “He was shot by his own man, from behind,” Casings said up to Rochenbach.

  Rochenbach shook his head and looked all around the clearing. Ten yards away lay Parnell Hobbs, flat on his back, dead, his face missing, in its place an open bloody hull.

  “That one shot himself somehow,” said Pres. He turned back to Karr and gave him another drink from the whiskey bottle.

  Karr swallowed the fiery rye and let out a whiskey hiss.

  “He was running with a cocked shotgun… stumbled and blew his damned head off…,” he wheezed. “The poor bastard.…”

  Rock let out a breath and looked at the third man lying a few yards away beneath a big pine tree.

  “That one came running out of the shack shouting, shooting wild in every direction,” said Casings. “He’s the one who shot this one.” He gestured a nod at Karr.

  “You had to shoot him,” Rock said.

  “No, we didn’t shoot him,” said Casings. “He ran smack into that tree. Hasn’t moved an inch since. Giant unarmed him and left him lying there for the time being.”

  “I take it that’s Blind Simon Goss?” said Rochenbach, staring out at the downed man who looked to be peacefully sleeping.

  “How’d… you guess?” said Karr in a weak but sarcastic voice.

  “Want me to go tote him over here?” the Giant asked, holding the canteen out in his huge hand for Rochenbach to take.

  “Yes, bring him on over,” said Rock. Taking the canteen, he said, “Obliged,” and sipped while the Giant trotted away to where Blind Simon lay knocked out cold.

  “I… know you,” Latner Karr said, squinting up at Rochenbach. He raised a weak bloody finger toward him.

  “Do you, now?” Rock said flatly.

  “You’re that… detective who turned outlaw.”

  “That’s me all right,” Rochenbach said, knowing the old man wasn’t going to be talking much longer.

  “Some say… that’s a lie,” said Karr. “Some say you’re… still a lawman… working among us ol’ boys. Doing all… the damage you can.”

  “Do they, now?” said Rock, sounding disinterested. He noted the questioning look Casings gave him.

  “If you are… you should rot in hell,” Karr said, sounding weaker as he spoke. “Admit it.…”

  Rochenbach and Casings looked at each other, then back to the dying outlaw.

  “Go on… admit it,” Karr persisted, coughing, wheezing.

  “Yeah, you’re right,” said Rochenbach. “Looks like you’ve found me out, old-timer.”

  “I knew it,” said Karr. He settled back and closed his eyes.

  After a moment, Casings stood up, holding the whiskey bottle in his hand.

  “He’s gone,” he said. He looked at Rochenbach and said, “He was talking out of his head, what he said about you.”

  “I saw no point in arguing with him,” said Rock. “He’s probably not the first man to ever suggest I’m still a lawman.”

  “If you were, you sure fooled the hell out of all of us,” Casings said, seeing the Stillwater Giant walking up, carry the knocked-out blind man effortlessly in his arms.

  Dismissing the matter, Rochenbach said, “We’ve got a problem.”

  “What’s that?” Casings asked.

  “I checked the bags,” said Rochenbach. “There’s nowhere near ten thousand dollars in them.”

  “There was that much,” Casings said. “We both saw it. They didn’t spend nothing for the whiskey and cigars.”

  “I know,” said Rochenbach. He turned to his dun, pulled the saddlebags from across his saddle and pitched them to the Casings. “But it’s gone. See for yourself.”

  Casings caught the saddlebags, opened them and looked inside, shaking three stacks of money around.

  “Jesus, you’re right,” he said. He reached down into the bags and pulled up a handful of loose dirt and gravel. He let the dirt pour from his hand. “Whoever was carrying the bags was out to skin the others out of their share.”

  “That’s how I figured it,” said Rock. “But who did it? Was it Dirty Dave Atlo skinning Macon Ray and the others, or Ray doing the skinning after he got his hands on the money?”

  “Looks like we’ll never know,” said Casings. He pulled up the three stacks of money, looked at them in disgust, then dropped them back in the bag. “We’re down to three thousand, more or less. Grolin will throw a fit.”

  “How will he know it was ten or three?” Rochenbach asked, leading him toward something.

  “Spiller, Shaner and Penta will all three say it was ten thousand when they get back,” said Casings.

  “I see what you mean,” said Rochenbach, and he let it sit for a moment as the Giant walked up and settled the half-conscious Blind Simon in the chair on the porch.

  “Maybe we just tell Grolin what happened: We followed Macon Ray here, but the money was gone.”

  “Take a thousand each and keep our mouths shut about it?” asked Rochenbach.

  The Stillwater Giant stepped back off the porch and looked at them curiously.

  “We’re just talking about this money, Giant,” said Casings. “Ray Silverette has shorted it down to three thousand dollars. We’re saying split it three ways, to keep from having to explain things that wasn’t our fault. What do you say?”

  “I’m with you, Rock,” said the Giant. “What do you say we do?”

  “I’m with Pres,” said Rochenbach.

  “And I say we keep it,” Casings cut in. “Besides, if Grolin hadn’t cheated Dirty Dave out of his money last year, this wouldn’t have happened.”

  “I get a thousand dollars, here and now?” asked the Giant.

  “Yep, here and now,” said Casings.

  A broad grin came across the Giant’s face.

  “Give it to me, fellows,” he said with no further hesitation.

  “Rock, check your arm,” said Casings, seeing the blood on Rochenbach’s sleeve for the first time.

  “I’ve got it,” said Rock, loosening a bandanna from around his neck to shove down his coat sleeve onto his upper arm. “I took a graze a while ago,” he said.

&n
bsp; “Welcome to the fold,” Casings said wryly. “Now you’ve shed your blood for Andrew Grolin, like the rest of us.”

  “That’s right,” said Rock. “Now I want to ride back to the Lucky Nut, see how much he appreciates it.”

  By the time Blind Simon Goss awoke, the Giant and Pres Casings had dropped the bodies of the three outlaws into an iron ore bucket tied off atop a steep set of rails that ran deep down into the hillside. The other two bodies they’d sent speeding down the rails in a flat cart that sat in front of the ore bucket.

  “Adios, sons a’ bitches,” said the Giant, releasing the bucket’s hand brake. Casings reached out with a knife and cut the short safety rope.

  “It’s better than any of you deserve,” Casings said to the rumbling iron bucket. He dusted his hands together.

  The two watched the big ore bucket roll down the rails until it disappeared into the blackness. The rumble of the bucket on the rails still resounded as the two turned and walked away.

  At the porch of the shack, they stood back watching Rochenbach press a wet cloth to Blind Simon’s swollen face. Simon raised a hand and held the cloth in place.

  “You upwinded me, didn’t you?” Simon said to Rochenbach, who stooped beside the chair where the Giant had seated him.

  “Yes, I did,” said Rochenbach.

  “What made you think to do that?” Simon asked.

  “As soon as I heard that you’re blind, I knew I couldn’t slip up on you.”

  Simon chuffed and shook his head.

  “You sound more like a damned lawman than most road agents I’ve known,” Simon said.

  “I used to be a lawman,” said Rochenbach.

  “What? No, don’t tell me that!” Blind Simon said, sounding both amazed and disappointed. “I’ve been outthunk by a lousy lawman?”

  “Ex-lawman,” Casings said in a raised voice.

  “Who’s talking there? And why are you talking so damn loud?” Simon asked, turning his sightless eyes toward the sound of Casings’ voice.

  “It’s Pres Casings. I work for Grolin,” Casings said, still in a raised voice, stepping closer as if to make his presence more intimidating. “I was by here a long time ago. Remember?”

  “Yeah, I remember,” said Simon with a wince, holding the wet cloth to his face. “My brain works fine. “Who’s the stinking bastard beside you?” he asked. “The way he’s breathing, he’s taking up the air of three normal-sized men—sounds like a damn blacksmith’s bellows.”

  The Stillwater Giant and Casings looked at each other.

  “I’m Garth Oliver,” said the Giant, the sound of his deep, strong voice causing Simon to jerk back in a start. “Most folks call me the—”

  “The Stillwater Giant,” said Simon, cutting him off, finishing his words for him. “I’ve heard of you. You are one big sumbitch, aren’t you?”

  “Bigger than most,” said the Giant. “I can ride two horses side by side,” he added.

  “I bet either horse appreciates the other,” Simon said with a chuckle.

  The Giant looked puzzled for a second until he understood. He grinned.

  “Yeah, I suspect they do,” he said.

  Rochenbach watched and listened.

  “What do we need to do with you, Simon?” he asked.

  “Put a bullet in my head,” Simon said bluntly. “We lost here, fair and square. I beg no man’s mercy.”

  “But you weren’t with Macon Ray and his men when they robbed us,” Casings cut in, still in a raised voice.

  Blind Simon winced and lowered the wet cloth from his face.

  “Will you tell this loudmouthed son of a bitch that I’m blind, not deaf?” he said to Rochenbach.

  “He hears you,” said Rochenbach. “But Pres is right—you weren’t with Macon Ray. We don’t want to kill you.” He paused and looked at Casings and the Giant. “We might need to hide out here ourselves sometime. You never know.”

  “You killed my pals, Hobbs and Karr,” said Blind Simon. “They didn’t rob you either.”

  “They were shooting at us,” said Casings, his voice down to a normal volume.

  Rochenbach noted that Casings didn’t want to tell the man he’d killed one of his own pals.

  “So was I,” Blind Simon replied.

  Rochenbach cut in, saying, “One of your pals shot himself. He was running with a cocked shotgun.”

  “That would be Hobbs,” said Simon. As he spoke, he’d fished a pair of dark-lens wire-rim spectacles from his shirt pocket and put them on. “He was prone to that—a terrible practice.” He shook his head in regret. “Who shot Karr?” He fished one of the cigars Macon Ray had given him from his shirt pocket and stuck it in his mouth.

  Instead of answering, Rochenbach looked at Casings, judging how he would treat the matter.

  “That’s hard to call,” said Casings, “everybody shooting the way we were.”

  Simon read the tone and pitch of his words.

  “I hear you,” he said. “You’re telling me I killed him.”

  The three stood in silence while Simon sorted through it in his mind.

  “Well,” he said finally, taking a match from his shirt pocket, “if you’re not going to shoot me, get the hell on out of here. I’m going to search around, find any whiskey left inside. Get myself drunk enough to monkey-pound a she polecat if I feel like it.”

  “You can ride into Central City with us,” said Casings, “or on to Denver City, as far as that goes.”

  “Denver City, ha!” said Simon. “You know where they stick a blind man if they find one? The crazy house, is where.” He struck the match and ran a finger out the length of the cigar. Finding the end of the cigar, he stuck the flame to it and puffed.

  “We wouldn’t let them,” said Casings.

  “Huh…,” Simon chuffed dubiously. “I’ve heard that before.” He blew out a stream of smoke.

  “I’d give you my word,” said Casings.

  “Obliged,” said Simon, “but I’ll stick here. I’m alone here most times anyway. You just came by when Karr and Hobbs happened to be lying low with me. You want to do something kind for a poor old blind man, help me sort this shack into shape before you leave.”

  “We can do that,” said Casings, “but you ought to think about our offer.”

  “I ever want to mosey down to Denver City, I know my way,” said Simon. He gave a crooked smile, the cigar planted firmly between his teeth.

  Casings and the Stillwater Giant looked at Rochenbach, as if asking if they should persist on the matter. But Rochenbach shook his head and nodded toward the shack.

  “Come on, then, Simon, show us inside,” he said. “We’ll set this place up, but only if you’ll allow us to stay here, we ever need to lie low.”

  “You’ve got a deal, ex-lawman,” said Simon, leaning his chair forward and rising to his feet.

  Chapter 13

  On their way back to Denver City, the three avoided the trail they’d taken through Central City, lest someone recognize them and associate them with the bodies of Lonnie Bonham and Turley Batts left lying in the trail up at Apostle Camp. Instead, they rode wide of Central City and made camp outside the town of Idaho Springs.

  The following morning, they rose early and rode east. Without pushing their horses, they saw the outskirts of Denver City rise in the long shadows of evening.

  “Are we of one accord on everything, Giant?” Casings asked as the three rode abreast, watching the town grow up taller and wider atop the roll of the earth.

  “Yeah, we’re good,” came the Giant’s deep voice. “I’m not going to say anything I shouldn’t, if that’s something you’re worried about.”

  “I’m not worried,” Casings said. “But I am concerned.”

  “Ain’t that about the same thing, Rock?” the Giant asked.

  “It’s close,” Rochenbach said. “Pay attention, Giant. Hear him out.”

  “You got it,” said the Giant. “I’m with you fellows. Whatever you tell me to say is how
I’ll tell it.” He gave his wide, toothy grin. “Being big doesn’t make me stupid.”

  Casings looked at Rochenbach, then back at the Giant.

  “I know that, Giant,” said Casings. “But we’ve got to go over this thing again—make sure we’re all three telling Grolin the same thing. You’ve seen what he’ll do to a man to get the truth out of him.”

  “Yeah, I know,” said the Giant, his grin vanishing, replaced by a dead-serious expression.

  “So,” Casings continued, “we tell everything just like it happened, except we never knew exactly how much money was there… and it was on the trail behind Apostle Camp where we found the saddlebags. We all three found them with the money missing, instead of Rock finding them alone and taking all the suspicion on himself.”

  “I’ve been thinking about it, Casings,” Rock said. “I don’t mind telling Grolin that I found the bags on my own. He’s not going to do anything to me, leastwise not until I’ve opened the safe for him.”

  “No dice,” Casings said, shaking his head. “We all three took a cut, we all three put our necks on the same block. Right, Giant?”

  “Right,” Giant said. “Only, don’t use a chopping block as an example.” He gave a grin as he rubbed his thick neck.

  “Sorry,” Casings said with a short laugh.

  Rochenbach looked at the two of them, almost feeling guilty that they were willing to lie for him.

  “Obliged,” he said quietly, not wanting to push the matter any further.

  It was his job to gain their confidence. Still, deceiving men who had trusted him always left a bad feeling in his gut. He had to remind himself that in this case, it was not these two men he was after. In a sense, it wasn’t even Andrew Grolin he was out to get.

  He wanted to bring down the man who fed Grolin the information from inside the mint. That helped, he told himself. If there was any way for him to let these two off the hook when the time came, he would do so.

  “This pretty much cinches things,” he said. “It looks like we’re going off on our own now for certain.”

  “Suits me,” said Casings. “What about you, Giant?”

  “Whatever Rock wants to do, I’ll back him. You too,” said the Giant.