No Justice in Hell

by Charles G. West

  CHAPTER 11

  “Mornin’, Zach,” Loafer Smith said when he turned to discover Dubose coming in the door of his stable. “You comin’ to get your horse?”

  “Yeah,” Dubose replied. “I reckon I’ve had about enough of that damn saloon. I need to head for somewhere to hell away from Nevada City. My shoulder feels damn near as good as new. Ain’t no need for me to lay around here no more.” He unconsciously reached up to feel the healed-up wound behind his shoulder. “Besides, damned if every lawman in the country don’t know this is the place to look for an outlaw.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” Loafer said, then chuckled. “I know one lawman that’s headed west across the mountains, lookin’ for that old Montana Trail and headin’ for Salt Lake City.” He laughed again. “At least I think he’s a lawman. He said he wasn’t.”

  Dubose had to laugh at the thought as well. “I ain’t forgot what you done,” he said. “So I’m payin’ you a little extra for your trouble.” That brought a wide grin to Loafer’s face. Dubose paused to think about Hawk. It seemed to him one hell of a coincidence that he showed up here, looking for those two small-time outlaws, at the same time asking about him. He had to agree with Loafer, the man had to be a lawman—or maybe a bounty hunter—to even know about him. But then there was the way the relentless tracker took care of the problem of Bevo and Slim, shot them down with little regard for taking them in to collect a reward. He wondered then if Hog or Red had crossed paths with Hawk, and if so, did they end up the way these two did? He couldn’t rule out the possibility that maybe it was one of them that told Hawk to look for him here. When he left Big Timber, he didn’t tell them where he was heading, but they had hidden out here before. They might have guessed he would head for Nevada City. The double-dealing bastards, he thought.

  How can this one man keep showing up everywhere I go? Dubose asked himself. He ran after he killed Bevo and Slim, but he would have been a fool not to. Nevada City was now considered outlaw territory, and any lawman coming here to make an arrest was dead meat. He might have found himself in a standoff with at least a dozen outlaws, all of them out to kill him. If Loafer did as good a job as he bragged about, then Hawk was riding south on the Montana Trail, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t come back. Whoever he was, it was plain to see that Zach Dubose was the next one on his list. So he planned to be long gone in case Hawk decided to come back to Nevada City, instead of going to Utah, chasing air. So far, there was no sign of him this morning, so maybe Loafer was right. “You sure it was the same man askin’ about me that killed those two last night?”

  “I’m sure, all right,” Loafer answered. “I was standin’ right behind him on the porch there at Belle’s when he killed ’em. That’s the reason I’m sure he’s a lawman, ’cause he tried to arrest ’em and take ’em to trial, but they drew on him. And I’m here to tell you, he didn’t waste no time takin’ care of ’em—cut ’em down like winter wheat—didn’t even think about woundin’ ’em. I tried to warn them two, just like I did you. But instead of layin’ low, like you did, they decided to go after him.” He chuckled again, unable to resist joking. “Hell, he ate some of Belle’s cookin’, and if that wasn’t enough to kill him, nothin’ can.”

  Dubose forced a grin. “You might be right about that. That’s another favor I reckon I owe you for, warnin’ me about Belle’s Diner.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a roll of bills. “How much do I owe you for takin’ care of my horse?” When Loafer told him his board bill had added up to four dollars, Dubose started peeling off several bills, and Loafer went to fetch the Palouse gelding.

  “I saddled him for you,” Loafer said when he led the horse out of the stable. “You can check your cinch to see if it’s the way you like it.”

  “It’s fine,” Dubose said after giving it a tug. He handed Loafer the money and stepped up into the saddle. “I ’preciate your help. There’s a little extra there for tippin’ me off about that lawman.” He gave the Palouse a nudge with his heels and headed toward the street.

  “Much obliged,” Loafer called after him, then hurriedly counted the bills Dubose had handed him. In a second, his grin turned into a disappointed frown. “Four, five, six, seven,” he counted. “Seven dollars,” he snarled. “You cheap son of a bitch, I saved your ass from gettin’ shot and you pay me three dollars for that! I hope to hell that lawman catches up with you.”

  * * *

  It had been two days since Zach Dubose had departed Nevada City, and Loafer was still complaining to everyone who came in the stable about his meager reward for his part in saving his life. Some he complained to said that perhaps Dubose didn’t have any more than those few dollars. But a couple of those who had rooms over the saloon where Dubose was hiding out were sure that he was carrying a sizable sum of money. “I know damn well he was,” Loafer whined. “I saw the size of that roll of money he was carryin’ in his pocket.” He was still mumbling to himself about it that night when he climbed up in the loft to throw some hay down. Descending the ladder again, he reached for his lantern and struck a match to light it.

  “I don’t see that spotted horse of yours anywhere.”

  The voice came out of the dark like a shaft of steel through Loafer’s heart, freezing the blood in his veins, just at the moment he struck the match. Then he saw him in the flare of the match, standing next to a corner post, his rifle cradled, ready to fire. He feared he was looking into the face of death. “Hey, wait a minute,” Loafer stuttered. “I didn’t know Dubose was here when you asked me about him!”

  “Loafer,” Hawk started impatiently, “why do you wanna start lyin’ to me again? That damn horse is gone, so that means Dubose is gone, too. Right?” Loafer nodded, then let out a little yelp when the match burned down to his fingers and he dropped it. “Stomp it out,” Hawk ordered, his tone soft and patient now, as if addressing a child. Loafer did as he was told, stamping out the small flames that had already caught in the hay. “Now, how long has he been gone?”

  “Two days come this mornin’,” Loafer dutifully reported.

  “Where was he headed?”

  “I don’t know,” Loafer replied. “I swear to God,” he quickly added when Hawk cranked a cartridge into the chamber of the Winchester. “I’m done lyin’ to you, mister. He didn’t say where he was goin’, just said that since you were headed west, he was goin’ in the opposite direction.” When Hawk paused to consider that for a moment, Loafer pleaded, “There ain’t no reason for me to lie to you. I swear, he’s gone and he didn’t tell me nothin’ else.” Remembering then how mad he had been at Dubose for the skimpy reward he got for saving him before, he became suddenly more talkative. “No, sir, the son of a bitch wouldn’t say where he was goin’, but when he left here he took that trail headin’ out between the blacksmith shop and that old empty store next to it. My guess is that he’ll follow the Madison River north when he gets to the valley, ’cause I doubt he’ll wanna keep ridin’ straight through those mountains on the other side.”

  Hawk was not yet ready to trust Loafer, but he felt he was probably right about the direction Dubose was headed. And he agreed that Dubose would not likely head up into the mountains on the other side of the Madison. Men like Dubose needed the saloons and the whorehouses to satisfy their needs. So it was reasonable to assume he would likely show up in one of the towns along the Yellowstone on his way to wherever he thought was his safe haven. It was Hawk’s hope that he would pick up his trail in one of those towns. At any rate, he was finished with Nevada City, so his next priority was to get out of town without alerting anyone else. He felt he could safely assume that Loafer had informed every outlaw in town about the presence of a “lawman” before, and would inform them again as soon as he got the chance. He wasn’t ready to discount the possibility that one of them might take a shot at him if they had the opportunity. And that included Loafer. “All right, Loafer,” Hawk said. “I was thinkin’ about puttin’ a hole in you for wastin’ my time with that tale that sent m
e off on a wild-goose chase. But I’m gonna let you live to lie another day. I’m gonna relieve you of that six-gun you’re wearin’, then I’m gonna make you comfortable while I ride outta here.”

  Loafer made no effort to resist while Hawk disarmed him and tossed the weapon over into a stall. Then he marched Loafer over to the side of another stall where he had seen a rope coiled. After tying Loafer’s hands together, then tying them to the rail of the stall, he stuck the knife Loafer had carried firmly into the rail. When he was satisfied with the situation, he said, “Now, if you’re as handy with your hands as you are with your mouth, you can just reach that knife. And if you’re careful, you oughta be able to saw through that rope before too long.”

  Making no comment during all this, Loafer felt compelled to ask one question. “I’d just like to know, are you a lawman?”

  “No, for a fact, I’m not,” Hawk answered. “I’m just doin’ somethin’ that needs doin’.”

  His answer made it a little easier on Loafer’s conscience to say what was on his mind. “I hope to hell you catch up with that no-good son of a bitch. And you ain’t gonna hear a peep outta me till you’re long gone.”

  “I ’preciate that, Loafer,” Hawk said, and walked out of the stable. A few seconds later, Loafer heard the sound of his horse’s hooves as Hawk rode away.

  * * *

  Taking the trail that Loafer had indicated, Hawk rode out of Nevada City without being seen by any of the few drunks lolling on the steps of the saloon, making his way along under a three-quarter moon that made it easy to follow the narrow track. Rascal and his packhorse had worked a full day already and Hawk knew they needed rest. So when he crossed a lively stream a few miles away from the town, he decided he’d risk the possibility of any pursuit. In his opinion, it wasn’t much of a risk, anyway. He didn’t expect the gaggle of lawbreakers hiding out there to possess the zeal to organize a posse. But just in case, he followed the stream back until he found a place that offered some cover, and where a small fire would not be seen from the trail. The night passed peacefully and he was on his way early the next morning.

  It was still early morning when he approached the trading post beside the Madison River where he had boarded his packhorse before. He had no reason to stop there again other than the possibility that Dubose might have. And if so, maybe he could confirm his assumption that the outlaw had headed north and not into the Madison Mountains. He spotted Rufus Tubbs standing on the porch of his store at almost the same time Rufus turned to watch him. As he narrowed the distance, he could see the smile on Rufus’s face.

  “Well, howdy, Mr. Hawk,” Rufus called out when Hawk reined Rascal to a stop. “Didn’t expect to see you back this way. I thought you’d be halfway to Eagle Rock by now.”

  “Rufus,” Hawk returned in greeting. “No, I changed my mind about findin’ that trail. I’m headin’ back the way I came before.”

  “Well, step down and light awhile. I was just fixin’ to go inside and have myself a cup of coffee. I believe summer’s about run its course. The air’s already gettin’ a little nippy. Whaddaya say? You could use a cup, couldn’t you? Won’t cost you nothin’.”

  “Well, now, that sounds to my likin’,” Hawk replied, and stepped down. He was in a hurry to catch up with Dubose, but he knew the chase would be measured in days and not in minutes. When he rolled out of his blanket that morning, he chewed on a strip of jerky, but that was all the breakfast he’d had. He hadn’t even built a fire for coffee because he had an idea he might buy that at Rufus’s store. Wrapping Rascal’s reins loosely around the rail, he followed Rufus inside.

  The little iron stove in the middle of the store was glowing cherry red and the gray coffeepot was sitting as close to the edge of the top as it could get without falling off. Otherwise, it would be hard to keep the coffee from boiling away. “Leanne,” Rufus called. In a moment, a young girl came into the room. “Leanne, honey, pour us a cup of coffee.” He looked at Hawk. “You had your breakfast?” He didn’t wait for Hawk’s answer, instead looking back at the girl. “Have you got any more of them corn cakes you and your mama made this mornin’?” The girl nodded. “Bring us a couple of ’em.” She turned immediately to do his bidding.

  “She doesn’t talk much, does she?” Hawk commented.

  “No, she’s good about that. It don’t come natural, though, ’cause her mama can’t seem to shut up for more’n two or three minutes a day.”

  “Bannock?” Hawk asked.

  “Nez Perce,” Rufus answered. “I took her and her mama in after that big fight at the Big Hole. Her daddy was killed in that battle with the soldiers. So many of the survivors scattered and Leanne and her mama ended up over in this valley. I took ’em in and I reckon her mama was just satisfied to stay.”

  “Leanne,” Hawk said. “Is that her real name?” It didn’t sound like a Nez Perce name to him.

  “Nah, her mama told me her Injun name, but I never could say it right. I don’t know what it means, but it sounded like Leanne to me, so that’s what we call her.”

  In a few moments, the girl returned with the corn cakes, her mother following close behind her. Rufus had not exaggerated, the round little woman chattered away from the moment she walked in the room. Still talking, she went to the stove, wrapped a heavy cloth around the handle of the coffeepot, then brought it to the table and poured into the cups Leanne had placed there. She never stopped talking during the entire procedure. It sounded to Hawk like scolding, so he asked Rufus what she was saying. “Damned if I know,” Rufus replied. “I don’t speak no Nez Perce.”

  Hawk nodded to the woman, who was eyeing him openly. “Thank you, ma’am.” She paused for a moment, then smiled at him. But it was only for a moment, then she directed more of what sounded like scolding at Rufus.

  It seemed to tickle Rufus. “Ain’t she somethin’?” He took a bite of the corn cake. “She can sure cook, though. So can her daughter. It beats what I’d been cookin’ for myself before she moved in with me. You get used to the talkin’—kinda like hearin’ the wind blow—don’t pay no attention to it till it stops. Then you sit up real sudden and snort, What was that? It’s what you get used to, I reckon.” He chuckled at the thought. “That’s a damn good corn cake, ain’t it?” Hawk said that it surely was. Rufus went on. “Leanne mighta made ’em. I can’t tell the cookin’ apart—don’t know which one does it sometimes. She’s gettin’ past the time when a young girl oughta be matin’ up with a young man. I expect if they was still with their village, she’d already been married, as pretty a gal as she is.”

  Hawk was beginning to suspect an ulterior motive for the invitation to have coffee and corn cakes. He cast a suspicious eye in Rufus’s direction. “Listenin’ to you, a man might think you’ve got one too many women in your house. You ain’t tryin’ to get rid of Leanne, are you?”

  Rufus almost blushed. “It mighta sounded like that, I reckon, but it wouldn’t be no trouble to get rid of Leanne if I didn’t care who got her. I read you as an honest man, so I just thought I’d mention her in case you didn’t have a woman somewhere and you were lookin’ for a good one.”

  With all that was going on in his hunt for outlaws, it was almost inconceivable to think that he was being offered a woman—and without the woman’s say-so in the matter. Leanne was an attractive girl, he guessed. He had really not paid that much attention to her, and looking at her now, he felt sorry for her. He was reminded anew of JoJo, although their situations were not the same. “No,” he finally responded, “I don’t have a wife. I ’preciate you thinkin’ I was good enough for Leanne, but I wouldn’t ask a woman to put up with the life I lead. I’d never be home, so she’d likely be a widow, or just the same as one with no husband there. You know why I came here already, and now I’m huntin’ for another man who’s gonna lead me God knows where.”

  “’Preciate your honesty,” Rufus said, then dropped the subject as if it had never been brought up. “Have another cup of coffee.” He turned to the girl.
“Leanne.” She brought the pot and looked at Hawk as if to say thank you for not taking her from her mother. Hawk decided she might be younger than Rufus let on. “You say you’re after another feller?” Rufus continued. Hawk nodded. “Wouldn’t by any chance be a man ridin’ one of them spotted horses the Nez Perce breed, would it?”

  “It would,” Hawk replied. “He was here?”

  “Two, no, three days ago,” Rufus said. “Stopped in here wantin’ to know if I had any chewin’ tobacco—heavyset fellow, had a mean look about him—bought every last plug I had and a slab of bacon. From the look of him when he walked in, I was halfway afraid he was fixin’ to rob me. I stayed close to the shotgun I keep under the counter, but he paid. He pulled out a roll of money big enough to choke a hog.”

  “Did he head up the valley?” Hawk asked.

  “When he left here, he did, as far as I could see, anyway. I told Mama to keep Leanne in the back room till he was gone. What are you chasin’ him for?”

  “He killed a young girl, about the same age as Leanne.”

  Hawk’s answer sobered Rufus for a moment. “My Lord,” he exclaimed, then he pressed Hawk again. “I know you’re a lawman. I ain’t ever heard of any army scout goin’ after outlaws before and that’s all you’ve been doin’. If you ain’t a lawman, you’re a bounty hunter. Now, tell me if I’m wrong.”

  “Like I told you before, I ride scout for the army outta Fort Ellis. Things just happened to put me on this path, things I didn’t want to happen. I’ll be goin’ back to my job with the army as soon as I get finished with the fellow ridin’ that Palouse horse.” Once again, he felt the discomfort of filling the role of a lawman. The only living things he wanted to hunt were things fit to cook over a campfire. He had already been away from Fort Ellis too long, but he couldn’t give up on the hunt for Zach Dubose now that he was finally on his trail. He had made a solemn commitment to the memory of the young girl called JoJo, and he took that promise as seriously as any he had ever made. And now that he had a trail to follow, no matter how slim it was, he would not let himself quit the chase. With those thoughts weighing heavily on his mind, he bid Rufus farewell and started out to follow the Madison River north.