Pete graced him with that slow smile that Walt had seen a lot earlier in the morning. “You know, Walt, I ain’t known you for very long, but it seems like I’ve known you for a long, long time. I think it’s because I’ve run into so many liars in my line of work. There ain’t no money in those packs you’re lookin’ so hard at right now. Why don’t you step down and go look in ’em to see for yourself? I ain’t got that bank money. You’re doggin’ me for nothin.”
“Well, I believe I will step down,” Walt said. “You see, in my line of work, I’ve most likely run into more liars than you have.” He threw his leg over and dropped to the ground, the buckskin’s big body effectively blocking Pete’s view of Walt’s hand drawing the Colt Peacemaker from his holster by the time his feet touched down. As he walked around the horse to face Pete, he fired the first shot while his arm was underneath the buckskin’s neck. When the startled horse reared back, Walt placed the second shot a couple of inches below the first one. Pete dropped to his knees without any attempt to draw his weapon. “And that’s my way of dealin’ with liars,” he said and shoved Pete over on his side. “Then I’ll take a look at them packs.”
Before searching for the money, he took hold of Pete’s wrists and dragged him back up in the trees with his horses. Then he tore the packs open only to find no sign of the money. He searched the saddlebags next with the same result. Frantic for a moment, he then calmed himself by reminding himself that he had just followed Pete here when Pete left the church. He had not had time to get his treasure from its hiding place. “Of course,” he told himself. “He hid it. He didn’t have it at the church, and the reason he stopped here was to make sure I went on by before he went to get it.” He turned to look upstream again. “And I’m bettin’ you hid it up that way somewhere,” he said to Pete’s corpse. “Then I’m gonna put you in the ground where nobody can find you.” He thought again of a possible reward offered for Pete, dead or alive, but it wouldn’t be as much as that bank money. And it wouldn’t be worth the cloud of suspicion he would forever be under.
Satisfied that no one would likely see the body, he rode up the stream, leading Pete’s two horses. As he walked the horses, he scanned the banks carefully to pick up any signs of tracks that would tell him where Pete had left the water. He found what he was looking for just short of a low rock ledge that formed a small waterfall. Climbing out of the creek then, he dismounted and left the horses to graze near a fallen tree. There were tracks there but no sign of any continuing on past the waterfall, or reentering the water above it. He stopped and looked at hoofprints reentering the creek below the little ledge, then it occurred to him that something didn’t look right. It was as if a couple of the bigger rocks had been moved. It’s under the rocks! He thought at once and immediately waded into the water. They were heavy, so he could only lift one of them at a time. After he had dislodged them, he could see they were definitely out of place, but he found himself staring at a hard, sandy creek bed with no sign of any digging. It only served to infuriate him, especially when his common sense belatedly told him, if it was gold, maybe he would hide it in the creek. But it was paper money, so he wouldn’t have hidden it in the water.
Where then? He felt as if Pete’s ghost was laughing at him. Frustrated, he walked over to the fallen tree and sat down to empty the water from his boots. Then he took his socks off, cursing Pete Russell as he did, and wrung them out. As he stared at the stream of water he wrung from his socks, he noticed the water seeped right into the ground between his legs. Curious, he took his boot and raked it across the ground. It was loose dirt, like dirt that had been spread on the ground. He threw his head back and roared with laughter. “Hell, I’m settin’ right on top of it!” It took no more than a few minutes to brush away Pete’s attempt to disguise his hiding place.
Once he had uncovered the buried canvas sack, and with trembling hands, untied the knotted drawstring, all the aggravation over the rocks in the creek vanished, replaced by the giddy childish delight of Christmas morning. He knew he had been right about the money, and Pete had made it easy for him to claim the money all for himself. That had been his plan all along. He had never intended to share with any of the others. It was only right that he should claim it all for himself, for he had taken the greatest risk to obtain it. He had risked his whole career as sheriff in addition to his life, had he been discovered. As he sat on the log, counting his treasure, a comical thought came to mind. “Maybe I oughta split it with Ben Savage. He gunned down damn-near everybody that I woulda had to kill to claim it all. Too bad I can’t at least send him a thank-you letter for takin’ out my partners.” Of the original conspirators in the plan to take the bank money, only two others remained, Reuben Drum and Riley Best. It wasn’t necessary to kill them, since they would think Pete had disappeared and taken the money with him. The same applied to Frances, Dora, and Paulene, so he was now in the clear as long as he didn’t start spending money like a newly rich man. And he planned to be extra careful about that, allowing himself simple pleasures until he decided to leave Waco for good.
After he dug a shallow grave for Pete, he led his newly acquired horses back to his cabin on the Brazos River. In the game he was playing for the stolen bank money, he now found himself on the other side. For he was now in possession of the prize, and his worries were all toward how to protect it from others. Since most of his time was spent in town, there was the problem of leaving his cabin unguarded during the day. He was there at night, leaving his deputy, Wayne Price, to sleep in the sheriff’s office and keep his eye on the town at night. Now, with his new role as possessor, he had to be concerned for his money during the day, while he was in town.
He had made provision for his valuables in the form of a large square hole, three feet deep in the floor of his small barn, where he kept his horse. He lined sides and bottom of the hole with pieces of tin roofing he got from the contractor who built the bank in town two years ago. The hole was covered with four-inch planks and a door with a heavy padlock and hidden by a covering of dirt and hay. At the present, there was a small amount of cash in the hiding place, his part of a stage robbery by a couple of Reuben’s guests, and several handguns he had confiscated during arrests.
He couldn’t help worrying about the safety of his hiding place as he cleared away the dirt and hay, thinking how easily he had discovered the hiding place that Pete had fashioned. His was much more disguised, he told himself. It would be much harder to break into even if you did happen to find it and he also had the plus factor of everyone knowing it was the sheriff’s cabin. That alone was enough to make a robber stop and think, he figured. When the money was dropped into his safe-box, except for a sizeable roll for his pocket, he covered it all up again. With his money safely secured, he hoped, he then rode into town and took all three horses to Graham’s stable. He didn’t want to leave them at the cabin while he was away, and Graham’s was where he always kept the buckskin when he was in town.
“Hey-yo, Sheriff,” Bob Graham sang out. “Looks like you got yourself some new horses. You wantin’ me to take care of ’em?”
“That’s right, Bob,” Walt answered. “I’ll leave the buckskin here as usual, but I’ll wait till I find Wayne to see if I’m gonna need to keep my horse saddled. These other two, I’m fixin’ to leave with you now and I’ll decide what I’m gonna do with ’em.”
“Wayne was just in here a little while ago, lookin’ for you,” Bob said. “You been horse-tradin’ this mornin’?”
“That’s right,” Walt answered. “That’s why Wayne couldn’t find me. I thought I told him I was gonna see this fellow about sellin’ me these horses this mornin’. I knew he was lookin’ to sell ’em and I wanted to get to him before somebody else found out. Did Wayne say there was anything urgent he needed me for?”
“Nah. He said there weren’t no trouble, he just wondered why you hadn’t come into the office yet.”
“He’s a good man,” Walt declared, “just young, that’s all. He’s
gonna make you folks a fine sheriff if the time comes when I decide I’ve had all of it I want.” He paused a moment to watch Graham take the reins of the two extra horses and lead them toward the corral. Then he wheeled the buckskin back toward the street.
Deputy Wayne Price looked up from the desk when the door opened. Upon seeing Walt, he jumped up from the desk immediately, feeling uncomfortable about having been caught sitting in the sheriff’s chair. “Walt!” He exclaimed, “I was just lookin’ through the latest Wanted papers.”
“Don’t get up,” Walt said. “You look like that chair fits you pretty good. I swear, I think I forgot to tell you I’d be gone a little later than usual this mornin’. Everything all right?”
“Quiet as can be,” Wayne answered. “I had to go over to the Reservation and run Clem Grady outta the Hog’s Breath before somebody shot him. He musta slept on the front porch last night after Peewee had to throw him out. This mornin’ he was back in there as soon as they opened the door, threatenin’ to kill Brady John. He’s in the back cell. And we got a wire that said that fellow that shot those two deputy marshals in Madisonville got away with that stolen money from the bank. The bank’s offered a two-hundred-dollar reward for recovery of all or part of the money.”
“Is that a fact?” Walt replied. “I knew that jasper got away with that money. I don’t expect we’ll hear much about him or that money again.” He shook his head and commented, “Two hundred dollars, that would make it worthwhile to keep your eyes open for that jasper, wouldn’t it?”
“You know, Walt, I was thinkin’ about that fellow. You suppose he might show up over there at that church ol’ Reuben Drum runs?”
“Nah, he won’t show up over there,” Walt replied. “Every outlaw in Texas knows we keep an eye on Reuben. Nobody but the down-and-out drifters show up over at the church, hopin’ to get a free meal. That’s why I let him stay there—keeps some of the drifters outta town.” He winked at Wayne and added, “Besides, I rode by there this mornin’, just to make sure.”
Wayne chuckled. “I shoulda known you’d check that out—thought maybe that’s where you were this mornin’ when you didn’t come in when you usually do.”
“I’ll tell you something else I’m been thinkin’ over,” Walt said. “Maybe we’ve let that bunch of drifters lay around that old church buildin’ long enough. What you just wondered about might just happen one day in spite of what I think of the old man. He might start attractin’ some bad characters over there just four miles from this town. There ain’t but two or three people there now, and it might be the time to do something about that place once and for all. I expect we could get a posse of our citizens together to go over there and hit ’em one night before they knew what was comin’—burn the damn buildin’ down and shoot any of ’em that tries to put up a fight.” He was lying when he said he had been thinking it over. In fact, it had just occurred to him that at this point it might be best to get rid of Reuben and anyone who could ever testify against him. And that included the two women in residence there.
“Doggone, Walt,” Wayne responded. “I think that’s the very thing we oughta do. I’ve been worried about that place, and I know I ain’t the only one in town who thinks it’s a bad mark against the town. We could round up some vigilantes and close that place for good.”
The more they talked about it, the more Walt felt inspired to act. “I suspect it wouldn’t have to be a vigilante raid. I think, if I talked to the mayor and the city council about the dangerous situation out there, they might authorize an official posse to do the job. I’ll talk to the mayor today.”
* * *
In contrast to Walt Murphy’s description of Reuben Drum, the old man had not lost all the fire in his gizzard at all. He had lost his only son and none of the outlaws he had given shelter to would take up the cause to avenge his loss. Instead, they hatched daring raids with the sole purpose of getting their hands on that stolen bank money. This morning had been the final straw. Pete Russell had shown up there after his escape, no doubt bringing federal marshals on his tail. Then Walt Murphy showed up and it was obvious to Reuben that Walt suspected that Pete had gotten away with the money. When Pete packed up and left, Riley Best stood on the church steps watching him until he rode out of sight. Not three minutes later, Riley reported that he saw Walt ride down from the ridge behind the church and set in behind Pete. Reuben walked outside to join Riley, and a short time later, they both heard two shots that couldn’t have been more than a mile or so away. He told Riley at the time that it might be the last they saw of Walt, if those shots meant what he suspected. And he was concerned about the future of his church. The more he thought about it, the heavier the lack of vengeance for his slain son weighed on his mind. So he made a decision. If nothing else, he swore he would take his vengeance on Ben Savage himself. It was his responsibility as Lester’s father.
* * *
There was nothing further from the mind of Ben Savage than the possibility of Lester Drum’s father seeking to take his life in payment for that of his son. He was doing his best to readjust his life to that of a saloon owner, now that the gunfights were over in Buzzard’s Bluff and the action taking place was far from his town. There were still things that bothered him and people he thought were getting away free and clear who definitely shouldn’t. Walt Murphy always came to mind to top that list. He was still of the opinion that it was Walt who rode away on that buckskin horse. And that didn’t sit well in his craw. But he had decided to let the law agencies take the responsibility and do their jobs—this after countless lectures by his business partner.
There had been no more news about Pete Russell there in the little town of Buzzard’s Bluff. Whether he had been caught or not was of no concern now to Sheriff Mack Bragg. He was more concerned about drunks causing problems on the streets of the town. And Ben guessed that was good. Annie Grey still came in early every morning to have coffee with him, and her husband and Rachel still joined them a little later. He should have been content with the way things were, but he was not. The job with Walt Murphy had not been completed. Murphy had not been arrested for his part in all the killing and attempted jailbreaks. And in Ben’s mind Walt Murphy was the biggest crook of all. Ben had no use for any man who wore the badge of an officer of the law and took the oath to honor it, then operated on the other side of the law.
“Whatcha thinking about, Mr. Savage?” He turned to see Rachel coming from the kitchen, a cup of coffee in her hand.
“I was wonderin’ if you were gonna come outta the kitchen with some coffee for me,” Ben answered, “but I don’t see but one cup in your hand.”
“Liar,” Rachel replied, “you’re still thinking about that bunch that tried to break Pete Russell outta jail and the one that was wearing the mask who got away.”
“Now, why would you think that?” he responded, pretending a little indignation.
“’Cause you haven’t been thinking about anything else ever since we heard about that fellow getting away from those deputies,” she answered. “Here, you can have my cup, and I’ll go get another one.”
“No, thanks,” he said. “You probably put about two spoonsful of sugar in yours. I’ll get my own.” He got up from his chair. “You need to drink your coffee like a man,” he teased.
“Do I look like a man?” She came back at him.
“Only when you wear your hair up in a knot,” he countered, then quickly skipped out of her reach when she threatened to throw her coffee at him. He got no farther than the kitchen door, where Annie was waiting with a cup of coffee for him. “How’d you know I was comin’ to get a cup of coffee?” He asked, immediately thinking about Rachel’s insistence that Annie possessed special forewarnings of things about to happen.
“Everybody knew it, as loud as you two were yakking about it,” Annie answered and extended the cup toward him. “No sugar, right?”
“Right. Thank you very much,” he replied and took the cup.
“You’re welcome,”
Annie said. “Maybe it’ll take your mind off Walt Murphy.” She spun around and went back to her kitchen. “I heard her say that, too,” she said as she walked away.
“Wait a minute,” he mumbled as he walked away. I was thinking about Walt Murphy, but neither one of us mentioned his name. He didn’t say anything about it to Rachel when he went back to join her at the table. It would only get her started on the subject. They sat there a while watching the customers that came and went. As they did, it caused him to wonder why he didn’t take the opportunity given him to enjoy a peaceful life, now that the dangerous situation had been settled. You’re a fool if you don’t, he told himself. It’s time to put the Walt Murphys of this world out of your mind and enjoy the situation you’ve got now.
Tuck Tucker came striding in the front door then, looking as if he’d come to take charge, as was his usual custom. Seeing Ben and Rachel sitting at the table near the kitchen, he strode back to engage them. “You seen Ham Greeley? It’s time for his daily whuppin’ at the card table.” Things were back to normal in the little town of Buzzard’s Bluff . . . but for how long?
Tuck went over to sit down at his usual table and pulled a deck of cards out of his pocket. “Whaddaya drinkin’, Tuck?” Tiny called out from the bar. “The usual?” When Tuck said he was thinking about a glass of beer, Tiny asked, “Beer? That ain’t your usual drink.
“I know, but I’m a little bit off my feed, so I’m gonna take it slow and ease into the hard stuff later.”
Back at the table near the kitchen door, Rachel laughed and commented. “I never knew Tuck was ever off his feed.” She laughed again, then stopped when she looked at Ben when he didn’t laugh at Tuck as well. His mind was far away, she realized when she looked at him and he seemed to be looking out in space. “Doggone you, Ben Savage, you’re going to Waco.”
The Devil's Boneyard Page 17
