Will got the hint, and since he wanted to give the impression that he was flush, he reached in his pocket and pulled out a roll of bills. “I’ll buy the coffee,” he said, and peeled off a couple of dollars. “Is that enough?”
“Why, that’s mighty generous,” Elmira said, her smile almost constant now. “You might as well meet everybody in our little family. You already know me—I’m Elmira—and Darlene, and my son, Eddie. These two outstandin’ gentlemen that met you with loaded rifles are Coy and Slim. This here’s Pop,” she said, referring to the man Will had seen standing in the doorway.
“No hard feelin’s,” Coy said.
“None taken,” Will answered. “It pays to know who’s comin’ to call in this territory.”
“So whadda we call you?” Darlene asked.
“Walker,” Will replied. It was the first name that popped into his head.
“Well, Mr. Walker, welcome to Sartain’s,” Darlene said grandly.
“What part of the country did you come from?” Pop Strawbridge asked.
“Colorado,” Will replied.
“What line of business are you in, Walker?” Pop inquired. “Me and my partners, here, are in the cattle business. Maybe we’ve worked in some of the same parts of Colorado.”
Will paused to study the older man. Judging by his worn-out clothes and boots, he didn’t doubt that the old man had chased along behind a good many cattle in his life. But he would bet that the three of them had never stolen more than a handful of stray cows at any one time. He thought of Eddie’s remark earlier, that if they didn’t come up with some more money, Elmira was going to cut off their rations. The slab of beef he was now chewing was no doubt how Pop and his partners paid for their time at Sartain’s. “I don’t think so,” Will responded to Pop’s question. “I’m in the minin’ business. I don’t know anything about cows, except the best place for ’em is in a biscuit.” He looked at Elmira and smiled.
“Minin’ business, huh?” Pop asked. “There’s a heap of mines up near Denver City. Was you workin’ up that way?”
“Old man, you ask a lot of questions,” Will said. “Whaddaya say we just all drink our coffee now?”
“That sounds like a good idea to me,” Elmira said, thinking she detected a little irritation in Will’s tone. “That’s one of the rules around here: nobody asks a lot of questions.”
“Hell, I was just makin’ conversation,” Pop said. “It ain’t none of my business what he does. I didn’t mean to get too nosy.”
“No problem a-tall,” Will said. “Yeah, I worked some up near Denver, all over as a matter of fact. Whatever it takes to make a livin’.”
“Amen to that,” Pop replied. “We’re all in the same boat for sure.” He formed a quick opinion of the stranger at that point. He had an idea this Walker, or whatever his name was, might be more than a small-time cattle rustler like he and his two partners. The three of them had been the only visitors at Sartain’s for a good many months, that is, until the other day when those two who moved in with Darlene showed up. Ben and Brock Brown they said their names were. They said they were brothers, and they made a lot of big talk about how they weren’t worried about any lawmen following them into Indian Territory. Pop had a pretty good idea that the horses and spare saddle they talked about trading might have something to do with that. They claimed they had known Sartain and had been at the camp before, several years ago, but Elmira didn’t remember them. Bringing his thoughts back to the latest stranger to show up at Sartain’s, he decided this fellow, Walker, might be more dangerous than the brothers. For one thing, he didn’t talk much, and it was always the quiet ones a fellow ought to watch.
After they killed the pot of coffee, there was plenty of time left before supper, so Elmira ordered them to clear out of her kitchen, so she and Darlene would have room to work. “I reckon you can throw your stuff in with Pop and the boys,” she said to Will. “You might decide to stay on awhile, and there’s plenty of room in that cabin.”
“I might at that,” Will said, confident now that he had found the fugitives, not at all misled by their claim to be brothers. They had not even bothered to use false first names. It did seem curious that they thought it necessary to use fake names at all, since most all guests at Sartain’s were outlaws. He supposed they did it so the other residents in the cabins wouldn’t start thinking about the large sum of money they were carrying from the train robbery.
“We’ve got a teeny bit of time before we’ve got to get started with fixin’ supper,” Darlene suggested. “Maybe you’ve got a hankerin’ to see the inside of my cabin.” She favored him with a warm smile that easily conveyed her intent.
Will answered her with a faint smile of his own and said, “Maybe later on, if I stay a few days. I need to go take a look at my horses now. They’ve been rode hard the last couple of days, and I think that bay might have a loose shoe.”
Darlene looked disappointed, displaying a playful pout for his benefit. “I guarantee you it would be more fun visitin’ with me than it would be with your horses.”
“I don’t doubt that for a minute,” Will said. “And it’s a mighty tempting offer, but a man in my line of business never knows when he might have to leave someplace in a hurry. So I expect I’d better make sure that what I’m plannin’ to ride is ready to take me where I need to go.” Her obvious disappointment caused him to try to soften his rejection. “Tell you what, though. Why don’t I give you a little advance payment to reserve a visit with you when I’m ready?” His suggestion confused her, but she brightened a moment later when he peeled off five dollar bills and handed them to her.
“You just let me know,” she said cheerfully, having been paid more than she had planned to charge.
“I’ll do that,” Will said. He had no interest in coupling with the coarse woman at any time, at any price, giving the money with the sole purpose of further conveying the notion that he was flush with cash. He could see from the expressions of the others and the way that the older man’s eyes lit up, that his ruse was working. He picked up his rifle and his saddlebags and started toward the door. “Well, I’d best go take a look at my horses.”
“You need any help?” Pop asked, and gave Slim a wink. “I expect you’re gonna wanna put some of them packs inside the cabin.”
“I reckon not,” Will replied. “It ain’t that much to carry.”
“Suit yourself,” Pop said, then turned to Slim. “I expect we’d best split some more firewood and build up the fire in our cabin. Maybe we’ll get up a little card game before supper.”
Overhearing his remark, Elmira said, “If you’re lookin’ to have anything to eat after tonight’s supper, I expect you’re gonna have to go ahead and butcher another one of those cows.”
“Yessum, Miss Elmira,” Pop replied with a hint of sarcasm. “We’ll butcher another one. Sure seems like we et up that last one mighty quick.”
“You’re the ones doin’ the eatin’,” she returned. “If I had some more payin’ customers like those two boys that showed up a couple of days ago, I’d go buy some pigs and raise my own bacon. If you’ll go ahead and kill a cow, we might as well have some fresh meat for supper. I reckon the weather’s cool enough now so the rest of the meat will keep for a few days. I’ll smoke what we don’t cook right away.”
Accustomed to hearing Elmira complain about the lack of money from the three of them, Pop sighed and said to Coy, “Come on, you and Slim give me a hand. We’ll go butcher a steer.” After Will left them to tend to his packs, Pop remarked, “He sure is particular about them packs, ain’t he?”
“I noticed that myself,” Slim replied. “I wonder what he’s got on that packhorse.”
“I wonder what he’s packin’ in those saddlebags,” Coy said. “He don’t never take his eyes off ’em.”
“He’s in a helluva hurry to get on up in Kansas,” Pop mused aloud, then looked at Eddie. “You said he told you he had to get up that way pretty quick. Did he say why, or where up
that way he was headin’?”
Eddie shrugged. “Nah, he just said he had to move on pretty quick before winter sets in.” His answer did little to curb the three petty outlaws’ curiosity.
Outside, out of Elmira’s son’s hearing, Pop was quick to comment. “That feller’s got somethin’ he don’t wanna talk about, and I sure would like to find out what it is.”
“Yep,” Coy agreed. “And he’s in a mighty big hurry to get outta the Nations, like somebody’s after him. Maybe he’s got the law on his tail.”
“That, or maybe he’s run off with more’n his share of a mine holdup or somethin’, and it ain’t the law that’s after him,” Slim speculated.
* * *
“Look, comin’ yonder,” Slim said. He stood upright and stepped away from the fire he was in the process of laying out portions of the half-butchered carcass over. Since there was only speculation that the weather may or may not get cold enough to keep the meat from spoiling, a good bit of the carcass had to be smoked over the flames. Pop and Coy looked in the direction he indicated to see the two riders passing through the horses grazing near the creek.
“The packhorse is gone, but they still got that sorrel. It ain’t got the fancy saddle on it no more, though,” Coy commented. “They musta done some tradin’ with ol’ Scully. Reckon Scully didn’t want the sorrel.”
“Looks that way, don’t it?” Pop observed. “I’ll bet Scully give ’em about half what everythin’ was worth.” Both Slim and Coy grunted in agreement, having dealt with the hard-bargaining owner of the trading post on the Arkansas River. The three of them paused in their butchering to watch the two men ride up.
“Howdy, boys,” Ben Trout said as he and Larsen pulled up before them. “Looks like we’re gonna have some fresh beef for supper.”
“That’s a fact,” Pop replied. “Looks like you been doin’ some tradin’. Did ol’ Scully treat you right?” He smiled in anticipation of hearing that Scully had got the better end of the deal.
Ben smirked. “He didn’t want to at first, did he, Brock? But we had him take a closer look, and he decided it was all worth more’n he thought.”
Brock chuckled mischievously. “Yeah, he got a little more generous when we explained who he was tryin’ to cheat.” He nodded back toward the horses. “Where’d that buckskin come from?”
“Some stranger rode in this afternoon,” Pop answered. “That bay’s his’n, too.”
“A stranger?” Ben was immediately cautious. “You know who he is?” he asked, in spite of the fact that Pop had called him a stranger.
“Nope,” Pop replied. “Said his name is Walker, rode in from Colorado Territory.”
Ben looked at Brock and repeated the name. “Walker. You ever hear of anybody named Walker?” Brock shook his head. “Where is he?” Ben asked.
Pop shrugged, so Coy answered. “He’s puttin’ his possibles in the cabin. At least that’s what he said he was gonna do.” He grinned and added, “We offered to help him tote his stuff inside the cabin, but he said he didn’t need no help. I don’t think he wants anybody messin’ around with his packs.”
“You sure he ain’t a lawman?” Brock asked.
“I ain’t sure of nothin’,” Pop replied. “But if he is, he’ll be the first lawman to come to supper at Sartain’s.”
“He ain’t a damn lawman,” Ben informed his partner. “What would a lawman be doin’ showin’ up here at Sartain’s by hisself?” He looked quickly back at Pop. “You did say he was alone, right?” When Pop said he did, Ben continued. “He’d be a damn fool. Besides, we know for a fact that the last deputy marshal that come up this way ain’t likely to be showin’ up nowhere no more.” When Brock responded with a grin, Ben suggested, “Let’s go say howdy to Mr. Walker.”
* * *
Will stood by the lone window in the front of the cabin, watching the five men talking around the beef carcass some fifty yards away. Even though he had never seen them and really had no description of them, there was little doubt in his mind that the two on horseback were the men he sought, Ben Trout and Brock Larsen. It was difficult at this moment not to think of Ed Pine, lying back in Walking Bird’s tipi with two bullet holes in his body. The odds that Ed was still alive were not good. And the temptation to rest the forearm of the Winchester on the windowsill and squeeze off two quick rounds was almost overpowering. Justice could be served in a matter of moments. He picked the rifle up and held it, testing its weight, knowing that at fifty yards, he couldn’t miss. After a moment, he propped the rifle against the wall again. What if the two were not the men he thought they were? Damn it, he cursed silently, I’ve got to make sure. The sorrel one of them led looked like the horse Ed Pine rode, but a lot of sorrels looked like that. He reminded himself of the plan he had decided upon, to lure the two murderers away from the camp to arrest them. That way, no one at Sartain’s would know that the cabins had been discovered by the law. It would make it easier to find other fugitives who sought to hide out in this part of the Nations, now that he knew where the cabins were. He glanced at his rifle again and cursed softly, knowing he had to attempt to place the two outlaws under arrest. And he was going to have to draw them away from the camp to do it. The two riders started toward the cabin then, so he tested the Colt on his hip to make sure it was riding free and easy in the holster, in case he was given no option to carry out his plan. Then he went over to the door.
Brock and Ben rode up to face the door of the cabin and remained in the saddle when Will opened the door. Not a word was spoken for a brief moment while the two outlaws exchanged intense stares with the stranger in the doorway. “Something I can do for you boys?” Will finally asked.
“Pop back there said your name was Walker,” Ben said. “Is that your real name?”
“Does it make any difference to you?” Will came back.
“Huh,” Ben scoffed. “It don’t make a gnat’s worth of difference to me what your name is. I just like to know who I’m talkin’ to. I ain’t never heard nothin’ ’bout anybody named Walker.”
“Is that so?” Will responded. “Well, I reckon that’s a good thing for me, ain’t it?” He shifted his gaze from the powerfully built man doing all the talking to the more rangy man on the horse beside him. He decided the one doing the talking was probably the stud horse. The other one had not said a word, but was obviously enjoying the confrontation, judging by the grin on his face. Will nodded toward Coy and Pop, who had walked over to join them by then. “They said you told ’em your name was Brown,” Will said. “Is that your real name, Brown? That’s the color of shit, ain’t it?” His intention was to get them riled up to the point where they might respond in anger. He was successful.
“Why you smart-mouth son of a bitch!” Ben bellowed. “You lookin’ to get your back broke? You ain’t got no idea who you’re talkin’ to. If you’d spent any time in Texas, or Kansas, you’d know it don’t pay to cross Ben Trout.”
There it was! There was no longer any need to worry about going after the wrong two men. He had been 99 percent certain before Ben’s angry confession, but now all doubt was eliminated. The next step in his plan might be a hell of a lot harder to pull off. “So you’re Ben Trout. Then I reckon you’re Brock Larsen,” he said, nodding toward his partner. “You’re the two men that held up the train in Muskogee and killed the train guard.”
“That’s right, smart-mouth,” Brock boasted, “and shot the damn deputy marshal that didn’t have no better sense than to try to arrest us!”
Ben aimed a heavy frown in Brock’s direction, but it was already too late. The stunned expressions on Coy’s and Pop’s faces were evidence enough of the folly in revealing their true identity. Sartain’s was supposed to be a haven for those operating outside the law, but there was no guarantee that the two-bit outlaws holed up there would not sell them out, looking for reward money. He had a fair idea of the character of the three cattle rustlers. He and Brock could take care of them easily enough, but now he had to find out if
Walker was dangerous. Something else occurred to him then. “They said you rode in from Colorado Territory. How the hell did you know about the train job in Muskogee?”
Will realized that he might have slipped up there, so he had no choice other than bluffing. “Word gets around,” he said. “They were talkin’ about that holdup in Wichita a couple of days ago—said you boys got away with a helluva lot of money.”
“Maybe we did and maybe we didn’t,” Ben said. “That ain’t nobody’s business but me and Brock’s.”
“Maybe you’re thinkin’ about makin’ it some of yourn,” Brock snarled, and dropped his hand to rest on the handle of the .44 he wore.
“No, sir,” Will quickly replied. “You’re right, that ain’t nobody’s business but yours. I got my own business to tend to, and I sure ain’t lookin’ for no trouble. We got off on the wrong foot. I didn’t know who you were till you told me, so I’ll just mind my own business.”
Satisfied that Walker was showing a proper streak of fear now that he knew who he was dealing with, Ben was curious to find out what the stranger’s game was. Pop Strawbridge had said that Walker was mighty secretive about what he was carrying in his packs, and he seemed damned anxious to get up to Kansas with it. “Mister, I’m wantin’ to know what your business is. I heard you’re mighty particular about keepin’ an eye on your packs.”
“Oh? Who told you that? Well, that ain’t anything that would interest a man like you,” Will said, giving his best impression of an overly cautious man.
“Is that so?” Ben replied, and gave Brock a knowing glance. “Well, I reckon we’ll all just tend to our own business then, won’t we?” I’ll have a look in those packs before I’m done with you, he thought.
A Stranger in Town Page 7
