The Devil's Boneyard

by William W. Johnstone; J. A. Johnstone

  “Yessir, I’ll do it. I might not like it, but I’ll do it.”

  “I figured you would, and I knew you could,” Ben said. “I’ll go along and get myself a room in the hotel. I’ll tell Mary Jane about Walt, although I expect she already knows. Then after I eat, I’ll come spell you. Maybe you’ll be ready to eat something by then.”

  * * *

  “Hey, Brady,” bartender Buddy Suggs yelled, “look who’s comin’ in the door.”

  Brady John, owner of the Hog’s Breath Saloon, looked toward the front door. “Well, I’ll be go to hell . . .” he drew out. “Reuben Drum.” He rose to his feet and walked to meet the gray-haired man, who at that moment, spotted him and returned the smile on his weathered face. “Reuben, you old sidewinder, you ain’t been here in the Hog’s Breath for two years, I bet.”

  “That’s a fact, I reckon,” Reuben responded. “I had me a hole that was just right. There weren’t no reason to leave it, not till they burned me out of it, that is.”

  “I heard about that,” Brady said. “I was wonderin’ if you came out of it all right, but here you are, lookin’ mean as ever.” He paused to look at Riley, who was standing there grinning at the reunion of the two old friends.

  Noticing, Reuben said, “This here’s Riley Best. Me and him’s all that’s left of the Reuben Drum gang.”

  “Howdy, Riley. I’m Brady John. Me and Reuben go back a long way. You two come on over and set down at my table.” He looked over toward the bar. “Buddy, bring us a couple more glasses.”

  Buddy, wearing a broad grin on his face, had anticipated the request and was already on his way to the table with the glasses. “How you doin’, Reuben?” Buddy asked when he set the glasses on the table. “This is a rare occasion, seein’ you in town.” He nodded to Riley. “Matter of fact, I ain’t seen you or any of the other boys from the church in a while. We used to call you boys the deacons, didn’t we Brady?”

  “I ain’t had no reason to leave the church, till Walt Murphy fixed me up with one,” Reuben declared. “So now, I expect it’s time I started settlin’ up my accounts while I’ve still got a steady hand.”

  “You know Walt’s locked up in jail, don’t you?” Brady said.

  “Yeah, I heard that,” Reuben replied. “I found Frances Wright where she was hidin’ out, and she told me that feller from Buzzard’s Bluff, Ben Savage, shot him and arrested him. Savage is the next one on my list. He killed Lester, and he’s gotta pay for that.”

  “That is sorrowful news,” Brady said. “I’m right sorry to hear that.”

  “Savage is pretty much the reason there ain’t none of us left but Reuben and me,” Riley commented. “I was with Lester when he got shot.” He reached up and placed his hand on the bandage showing at the back of his collar. “He ain’t nobody to get careless around,” he stated.

  “So, whaddaya gonna do?” Brady asked.

  “Well,” Reuben started patiently, “I’m needin’ a room for Riley and me.” He paused right away to assure Brady. “I ain’t broke. I can pay for the room.”

  “I wasn’t even thinkin’ about that,” Brady insisted. “Of course, I’ve got a room for you upstairs. If I didn’t, I’d kick somebody out. You know that.”

  “I told Riley we could count on you,” Reuben said. “Then, I’m gonna just keep my eyes open and bide my time. I’m bound to get a chance to catch Ben Savage sooner or later. I don’t know about Walt, but I’ll be waitin’ for a chance to save the judge the trouble of hangin’ him.”

  When Brady suggested they take a drink to that, he refilled the glasses, and they all tossed the fiery liquid down their throats. “Like I said, Walt’s in jail, but I think Ben Savage is still in town.” He was distracted then when the huge frame of Peewee Burns came in, nearly filling the front door. “Was Peewee workin’ for me last time you were here?” Brady asked Reuben, and Reuben shook his head, so Brady raised his hand and signaled Peewee to come over. In a few seconds, the simple giant was hovering over the table. “Peewee,” Brady said, “this is Reuben Drum, a fellow you’ve heard plenty about.” Peewee nodded obediently and Brady continued. “This fellow with him is Riley Best. They’ll be stayin’ upstairs for as long as they want. They’re my special guests.”

  “Yessir,” Peewee responded with a foolish grin that almost reached the bottom of a long gash, still in the process of healing.

  Noticing that their attention was attracted to the fresh injury, Brady chuckled and informed them that the injury was a result of Peewee’s first and only meeting with Ben Savage. “It still hurts him to breathe too deep,” he added. “Doc says his ribs got cracked.” His comment immediately caused the grin on Peewee’s face to fade away.

  “He’s back in town again,” Peewee said. “I just saw him goin’ into the hotel dinin’ room.” He was astonished by the reaction his simple statement caused the two men sitting at the table with his boss.

  Reuben’s whole body seemed to go rigid, and Riley exchanged a wide-eyed stare of alarm with him. Sensing the tension just created, Brady asked, “What are you thinkin’, Reuben?”

  “Like I said, a minute ago,” Reuben replied, seeming to calm his nerves a little, “I’m bound to get a chance sooner or later. I like sooner, so I reckon I’ve had my drink and now I’m goin’ to the hotel to see what’s for supper.”

  “Maybe Peewee better go along with you,” Brady suggested, but Reuben insisted he didn’t want anyone mixed up in it with him.

  “This is my debt to pay for Lester. I don’t want nobody to get in the way—just me and Mr. Ben Savage.”

  “The hell you say,” Riley interrupted. “You need me to go with you. You don’t even know what Ben Savage looks like. You ain’t ever seen him.”

  That caused Reuben to hesitate for a few moments when he realized Riley was right. Still he was not sure he could trust Riley to stay out of it after he spotted Savage for him. It had become more and more important to him that he should face this man who had taken his son’s life. It should be a direct challenge to face each other and settle it for the sake of his son. “I’ve had him described enough,” he said to Riley. “A big man, wearin’ a Ranger’s badge, there won’t be that many people in the dinin’ room to make it hard to pick him out.”

  “What if that deputy is in there, too, and they’re both wearin’ a badge?” Riley insisted. “How you gonna know which one to call out then?”

  “Wayne Price ain’t that big,” Peewee spoke up, eager to see anyone call Ben Savage out. “And he’s a lot younger feller than that big ranger.”

  “I don’t think I’ll have any trouble tellin’ ’em apart,” Reuben decided. “And there ain’t no use gettin’ anybody else in trouble over it.”

  “What if you call him out and he don’t answer your call?” Riley questioned. “He might just say, ‘You’re under arrest, Reuben Drum,’ and hauls you off to jail.”

  “If he don’t answer my call to face me, I’ll shoot him down, anyway,” Reuben insisted. “Besides, he don’t know I’m Reuben Drum. We ain’t ever met.”

  Riley gave up. “I reckon you’re gonna do what you wanna do.”

  “I always have,” Reuben replied with a smile on his face. “I can’t see any reason to change now.”

  Riley thought back on their trip to Buzzard’s Bluff. He had tried in vain to talk the old man out of going after Ben Savage. It looked like this time Reuben was going to push it to the edge. He offered only one additional word of caution. “Take any advantage you can, and don’t underestimate this man. Remember, I’ve seen him in action. He’s big, but he ain’t slow.”

  “I’ve been practicin’ a little bit, and neither am I,” Reuben boasted. “I’m wastin’ time here. I’ll see you after supper. If you wanna do somethin’ to help me, you can throw our stuff in our room. Then I reckon we’ll take the horses to the stable.” Without waiting for comment or complaint, he got up from the table and headed for the door, striding like a man who was confident in what he was about to do.


  CHAPTER 21

  Mary Jane Reynolds greeted Ben cordially, and at his request, seated him at a table by the outside door. Like so many hotel dining rooms and restaurants, there was a weapons table on the other side of the door from his table, and he felt he would like to be handy to his six-gun with the tense situation in town at present. She told him he could sit anywhere he wanted, since he was a lawman, and the rule didn’t apply to lawmen. He thanked her just the same, but since he was not wearing his badge, he thought to save her the trouble of having to explain to other guests why he was allowed to wear his weapon. She thanked him for his consideration. “You’ll be too busy explainin’ to the folks why the food doesn’t taste good,” he teased.

  “Is that so?” She came back at him. “Maybe you might not wanna ask me why yours tastes kinda funny when I bring it to you.” As he suspected, she already knew about Walt Murphy’s arrest. “Everybody in town knows about it,” she said with a light chuckle. “If you ask me, it was a long time coming.” She was interrupted then when a tall gray-haired man walked in the door and paused to read the sign on the little table by the door for sidearms. He seemed reluctant to remove the Colt .45 he wore on his hip.

  Mary Jane saw his indecision and went to the table to meet him. Thinking that possibly he was unable to read, she said, “We just ask it of everyone, to leave your firearm on the table until you’re ready to leave.”

  “I can read,” he said, but seemed to take no offense.

  “Oh, I didn’t mean to imply that you couldn’t,” she was quick to say. “It’s just the rule for everybody.” Still, he hesitated, making no move toward giving up his handgun.

  Taking notice of the impasse by then, Ben took a look at the tall, slender man and immediately recognized him. Without getting up out of his chair, he said, “He’s all right, Mary Jane, he’s a friend of mine.” To the man, he asked, “Did you and your partner ever get to eat that deer he was huntin’ north of Buzzard’s Bluff?”

  Reuben looked down at him then, taking a closer look and recognizing Ben as well. “Nope, we had to settle for sowbelly again that day.” He chuckled in spite of the serious mission he was undertaking. Even as he made the remark, he scanned the room from one side to the other, as if searching for someone.

  It was obvious to Ben that the man was uneasy about something. Maybe, he thought, he was fearful of someone, so he made a suggestion. “Why don’t you sit down here with me and you can keep your gun on the table with mine?”

  Patiently waiting for the man to make a decision, Mary Jane said, “I think that’s a very good idea. I’ll have Nancy bring you something to drink and you can both sit there and watch your guns.” Undecided what to do, since he didn’t see a likely prospect for his planned vengeance, Reuben reluctantly surrendered his gun and sat down at the table.

  “Looks to me like you’re lookin’ for somebody,” Ben commented. “Was somebody supposed to meet you here? Maybe your partner?”

  “No, I’m lookin’ for a feller that’s supposed to be in here eatin’ supper,” Reuben answered, “but I don’t see nobody.”

  “Who are you looking for?” Mary Jane asked. “I know just about everybody in this town. Maybe he’s come and gone already.”

  “Don’t know if you’d know this one or not. He ain’t from here,” Reuben said. “Ben Savage.”

  “Ben Savage?” Mary Jane exclaimed. “You’re sitting at the table with him.”

  Stunned, Reuben Drum’s nervous system seemed to shut down completely. Unable to move or speak, he simply sat there, eyes wide open and mouth agape.

  Seeing the man was in obvious distress, Ben asked, “Why were you lookin’ for me?”

  Still distraught and grappling with this totally unforeseen situation, Reuben could only blurt out his intended purpose. “To kill you,” he uttered with complete lack of emotion.

  “To kill me?” Ben echoed, astonished. When Reuben did not respond further, Ben said, “Most folks just come in here to eat. Why do you wanna kill me?”

  Gradually recovering from his initial shock, Reuben answered. “Because you killed my son.”

  “Who was your son?”

  “Lester Drum,” Reuben answered, obviously confused to find his intended challenge to a duel had resulted in nothing more than a calm discussion.

  “Well, I’ll be . . .” Ben started. “So you’re Reuben Drum.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “I’m sorry for you havin’ to lose your son. But I’ve gotta be honest with you, Lester didn’t give me any choice. He went for his gun while I was standin’ at the counter of Cletus Priest’s store. He didn’t give any warnin’, just decided to shoot me. You’da done the same as I did. When somebody’s fixin’ to kill you, you just try to kill him first, right? Well, that’s what happened, but maybe if we’d had a chance to talk it over, like you and I are doin’ right now, we mighta decided there wasn’t any sense in either one of us dyin’. I reckon we’ll never know about that, will we?” He paused to see if Reuben would respond with anything to say.

  He didn’t, but he couldn’t help remembering that Riley’s version of the shooting was pretty much the same as that just given by Savage. That don’t matter, he told himself, just as he had when Riley told him. Someone had to pay for Lester’s death.

  Ben continued, figuring the longer he could talk, the better his chance of avoiding gunplay. “So now you come in here lookin’ to kill me because I was faster than Lester was that day. That don’t hardly seem right to me. He came after me, and that’s the real reason your son is dead. I didn’t wanna kill your son, or anybody else’s son, and I’d rather not have a shoot-out with you.”

  When Ben finally finished talking, nothing more was said for a long moment. Fully as stunned as Reuben, Mary Jane stood staring at the two potential duelists, and Nancy seemed paralyzed while holding two cups of coffee over the table. Reuben obviously didn’t know what to do at this point. The challenge hadn’t gone at all as he had imagined, so Ben sought to defuse it further. “You wanna go ahead and set that coffee down, miss?” It was enough to shake her out of her trance. She put the cups on the table, then quickly stepped back in case six-guns started blazing, this in spite of the fact that the weapons of both men were on the weapons table. “Now, Reuben,” Ben went on, “you seemed to me to be a reasonable man when I talked to you back on that creek north of Buzzard’s Bluff. I don’t know about you, but I’m kinda hungry right now. Why don’t we have ourselves a good supper before we do anything else tonight? I’ll pay for it. Hell, there ain’t no reason we can’t enjoy some of that stew I see on those other tables, no matter what we decide to do after supper. Whaddaya say?”

  “Now, that’s a real civilized idea right there,” Mary Jane at once agreed. “A good supper can fix a lot of things. Nancy, go fetch a couple of plates of that stew, and don’t be stingy with it. And don’t forget the biscuits.” Nancy hurried away to do as she was instructed. Mary Jane turned back to the two men at the table. Neither man made a move toward the weapons table, but she was not at all confident that it meant sudden violence could not break out at any minute. She made another suggestion that she thought might help keep the peace. “Should I send someone to fetch Deputy Sheriff Price?” A flicker of alarm immediately registered in Reuben’s eye.

  “No,” Ben said, “I don’t think so. Wayne’s got a prisoner to watch. Besides, he’s new in his job as sheriff and he’s liable to wanna arrest somebody. And nobody’s done anything to get arrested for. Have they, Reuben?”

  “Well, not so far,” Reuben answered honestly. Talk was interrupted then by the arrival of Nancy with two plates heaping with beef stew. Reuben hesitated, as if there might be something hidden in the stew, but Ben attacked his with great enthusiasm. So Reuben followed his lead, and pretty soon, they were both concentrating on the food in front of them.

  Ben paused to give Reuben a grin and say, “It ain’t like fresh deer meat, but it’s pretty damn good eatin’, ain’t it?”

  “It sure is,” Reu
ben agreed before he could catch himself.

  Quick to respond, in an effort to help Ben prevent a shooting in her dining room, Mary Jane replied. “Why, thank you, sir. We’re always happy when we please our customers.” She stepped away then when Nancy motioned. “What is it, Nancy?” Mary Jane asked.

  “Nothing, really,” Nancy replied. “I just thought that while we’re not real busy, I could run down to the jail and take Walt Murphy’s supper to him, since Cal isn’t here right now.”

  Mary Jane answered her with a knowing smile. Cal Booker, her cook’s thirteen-year-old son, usually delivered the prisoners’ meals to the jail. “Cal should be back in just a little bit. Charlotte just sent him to the store for something.” When Nancy made a pouty face, Mary Jane laughed and said, “Well, all right, if you want to, you can take the prisoner’s supper to him.”

  Overhearing their conversation, Ben said it wasn’t necessary for Nancy to do it, because he was going back to the jail when he was finished eating and he would carry Walt’s supper to him. “No problem at all,” Mary Jane replied to Ben. “You go ahead and take the plate to him,” she said to Nancy. No use in making him wait.” Nancy went at once to the kitchen to fix a plate and Mary Jane said aside to Ben, “She’s got a tremendous crush on Wayne Price, and he doesn’t have a clue.” She turned her attention back to the gray-haired outlaw then who was still peacefully eating. “You need some more coffee?” Reuben shook his head and continued to work away at the generous plate of food before him. She left them briefly when a man and his wife came in, and she led them to a table as far as possible from the one where the outlaw and the ranger sat.

  When she returned to the table by the door, Ben had removed his napkin from his shirt collar and folded it on the table. Since Reuben was still polishing off the last biscuit, Mary Jane cheerfully announced, “I’m declaring Reuben Drum the winner of this contest. He’s still going strong.” She gave Reuben a big smile and said, “You can tell everybody you beat Ben Savage in a contest.”