* * *
Ben knew how big a head start Walt Murphy had on him, but there was nothing he could do to shorten it. Wayne was still obviously shaken over what had happened to him. And Ben felt he had to be sure the young deputy was going to be all right, if left solely in charge of his new prisoner, Reuben Drum. So, by the time he was satisfied that Wayne was going to be confident again, he had already wasted too much time before starting after Walt. At this point, he could only assume that Walt had headed straight for his cabin, since Bob Graham said he rode out the north road after leaving the stable. When he was ready, he left the jail and headed for the stable where he found Bob Graham’s gray gelding standing in front, wearing his saddle and bridle, waiting for him. As he approached, Bob came out of the stable leading his packhorse. “I didn’t know how long you figured on bein’ gone,” Bob said. “So I saddled your packhorse, too. There ain’t nothin’ much in the packs, though. You’ve got your little coffeepot in there, but there ain’t no coffee.”
“I don’t know, myself,” Ben replied. “But I reckon it’d be a good idea to take him just in case.” He checked the cinch on the gray, then stepped up into the saddle. Pulling his Winchester out of the saddle sling, he checked to make sure it was fully loaded. Satisfied, he touched his forefinger to the brim of his hat and said, “’Preciate the loan of your horse. I’ll bring him back soon as I can.”
“Good luck,” was all Bob could think to say, thinking there was to be one helluva contest between too strong men. He wished he could witness the meeting, but at a safe distance.
* * *
To add to his problems, it was already getting dark by the time Ben rode away from the stable. So, he was forced to take caution as he followed the road north, especially when passing large clumps of trees near the riverbank. In his mind, he saw several good spots for an ambush well before reaching Walt’s cabin. A couple were suspect enough to cause him to leave the road and come into the trees from behind to make sure no one was there. He came to the conclusion that Walt’s first priority had been to get to his money, so he continued on along the road until he passed the Stewart farm before resuming his cautious approach.
He pulled the gray to a stop when he saw a glimmer of light shining through the thick growth of trees that hid the cabin. Leaving the horses there, he worked his way closer on foot, his rifle in hand. When he had approached close enough to see the entire cabin, he was puzzled to discover the light he had seen was evidently from a lantern inside. His immediate thought was of a trap set up for him to walk in to be shot down. It was a little too obvious, so he suspected some other plan of ambush. It occurred to him then that there had been no sound from the horses, his or Walt’s. They were close enough to have whinnied their acknowledgment of each other. So he continued moving around the cabin until he could see the small barn behind it. He realized then that there were no horses there. The purpose of the lantern had been solely to delay him even more. And it had worked well, he thought. But to be sure, he moved up to the back window and looked in to see the lantern sitting on the table of an empty cabin.
He wondered then if the stolen money had ever been hidden there at the cabin. So he went inside and took the lantern from the table and went out to take another look in the barn. His question was answered as soon as he entered the rough structure. Damn, I was standing right on top of it, he thought, as he stared at the open box in the middle of the floor that had been so well hidden beneath the four-inch planks and the dirt and hay. Knowing with certainty that Walt had not stayed to wait for him, he went back to get his horses. Then, using the light of the lantern, he looked around the cabin and the barn for tracks that might tell him which way Walt had gone. It was not difficult to pick out the most recent tracks leading away from the barn. He suspected they were intentionally made obvious, but he followed them north into the river’s edge, picking the trail up at intervals where it came out of the water, only to return. Finally, there were no more places where the tracks left the water and he was convinced that Walt had stayed in the water, turned around, and gone the other way. The time had come to trust his gut feeling, because it was now too dark to try to pick up signs on the banks, even with the lantern. I don’t know where he’s heading, he thought, but it ain’t north. I’m betting my horse on it. He threw the lantern in the river and climbed out of the water, determined to follow the Brazos south, watching for signs of tracks or a camp.
For the next two days, he followed the trail along the river with only an occasional discovery of tracks that could or could not be those left by Walt. His chase soon became one based on nothing more than the hope that his hunch had been on the mark. On the morning of the third day, he found himself only ten miles north of Wilfred Tuttle’s store. He decided that, if Walt had not stopped at Wilfred’s, it would be enough to convince him he had made a mistake with his hunch. He would have to search elsewhere, and he didn’t know where to start. “Come on, horse,” he said to the gray. “Let’s go find out if our little trip together has been for nothin’.”
* * *
Rosa Cruz sat in a rocking chair on the porch of the old trading post known as Tuttle’s Store peeling apples for a pie. A movement through the trees on the river road caught her attention, and she paused to see if someone was approaching the path to the store. In a few seconds, she saw a lone rider leading a pack horse. She continued to watch, thinking there was something familiar about the large man on the horse. A moment later, she cried out, “Ben!” She jumped up from the chair, still holding her pan of apples, and ran to the door of the store. “Ben!” she cried again. “It’s Ben!”
Wilfred Tuttle came running out to the porch. “You sure? Where?” Rosa pointed to the path leading down from the road. “Yep, ain’t nobody else sets a horse like that.” He walked down the steps to greet their friend. Rosa put her pan down in the chair and followed him. “Well, if you ain’t a sight for sore eyes,” Wilfred declared. “What are you doin’ down here in this neck of the woods?”
“I had to get down here to make sure you’re still kickin’,” Ben joked. He stepped down from the gray to receive Rosa’s hug.
“I thought you were settled in Buzzard’s Bluff for good,” Wilfred said. “How’s the saloon business goin’?”
“It’s doin’ just fine, no thanks to me. I’m lucky to have a level-headed partner to run it, because it seems like I can’t get away from bein’ a Ranger.”
“Well, what you need is to have Rosa fix you up a good breakfast and later on eat a slice of that apple pie she’s fixin’ to make.” He winked at Ben and said, “I bet you ain’t had no breakfast this mornin’.”
“You’d win that bet, because I don’t have anything left to cook,” Ben confessed. “I was figurin’ on buyin’ some supplies from you. I didn’t have time before I left Waco.”
“Waco?” Wilfred asked. “What was you doin’ in Waco?”
“That’s a long story I’ll tell you over a cup of coffee, all right?” As soon as he said it, Rosa turned and ran back inside to make some. “I’m sorry I don’t have a lot of time to visit, but I’m tryin’ to catch up with a fellow I think headed this way. Kind of a heavyset fellow, ridin’ a buckskin and leadin’ a dun.” He saw Wilfred’s eyes light up immediately.
“A dun like that one you used to ride,” Wilfred said. “Late last evenin’, he was here, bought a lotta goods from me, more’n I’ve sold in a while, and he had plenty of money to spend. He seemed like a friendly enough feller. What did he do, rob a bank?”
“Lee County Bank in Giddings,” Ben answered. “He didn’t actually rob the bank, he ended up with the money when he killed the last of the three that did the robbery. He’s done a lot of bad things, but the worst was stealin’ that dun you saw him leadin’, and that’s the reason I’m chasin’ him. Did he say where he was headin’?”
“Said he was on his way to Navasota,” Wilfred said. “I declare, I thought that horse looked familiar.”
“That’s why I’ve gotta catch up w
ith him as soon as I can. Cousin can’t stand but so much of bein’ treated like a packhorse.” Rosa came back out to announce that there was a fresh pot of coffee on the stove and she was making up some corn cakes. She was disappointed to hear that Ben was in a hurry to leave, but he explained. “I’ll surely stay long enough to get some of that coffee and eat some corn cakes. When I take care of this business I’m on, I’ll make a longer visit on the way back, all right?”
“Promise?”
“Promise,” he said. He ended up spending an hour there, which he hated to lose. But Rosa fixed him a good breakfast, he stocked up on some basic supplies he had been out of, and the horses got some extra rest, plus a portion of oats.
“You take care of yourself, Ben Savage,” Rosa instructed as he climbed on the gray gelding and started out again.
CHAPTER 23
“Well, I’ll swear,” Rafer Black sang out when he saw him walk in the door of the Silver Dollar Saloon. “Walt Murphy, what the hell are you doin’ in Navasota?”
Walt grinned when he spotted Rafer sitting at a table with another man. He walked over and pulled a chair back. “I figured I’d just stop by and have a drink with my old partner,” he said.
“It’s been a good while since you took that sheriff’s job in Waco,” Rafer said. “What happened? Did they find out what you really did for a livin’ before you started sheriffin’?” He interrupted himself to nod toward his companion. “This here’s Luke Davis.” To Luke, he said, “Me and Walt go way back.” Walt nodded to Luke, and Rafer shifted his attention back to him. “You still workin’ that business at the church with ol’ Reuben Drum?”
“Up till a couple of days ago,” Walt answered. “The church got burnt to the ground and Reuben’s in jail, all on account of one damn Ranger. So it was time for me to leave for greener pastures. I figured I’d head on down to Houston to see what I could get into down there. The only problem is that Ranger ain’t satisfied with me just leavin’ town. He’s wantin’ to tie me to some killin’s that happened at the church, so he might be on my trail. I figure I’m about ready to light here for a spell to wait for him.”
“One Ranger, huh?” Rafer asked. “Don’t sound like much of a problem to take care of. What’s his name?”
“Ben Savage,” Walt answered.
There was an immediate reaction from both Rafer and Luke at the mention of the name. “Ben Savage?” Rafer exclaimed. “I thought he dropped out of the Rangers. I know we ain’t seen hide nor hair of him around here anymore. He ain’t been too welcome ever since him and another Ranger arrested two men right here in this saloon, then shot ’em before they got ’em back to Austin for trial.”
“I reckon you know why I need to do somethin’ permanent about him, then,” Walt commented. “He wrecked everything I had goin’ for me, and I had to run, so I intend to do the same for him.”
“You might need a little help,” Luke suggested, “if he’s as ornery a stud as I’ve heard people say.”
“I could use some help, I reckon,” Walt allowed, as if considering the idea. “Tell you the truth, I’m a little bit hampered right now.” He unbuttoned a couple of buttons and showed them the bandage on his shoulder. Actually, he had already planned to enlist their help, but he wanted them to think it was their idea. He figured that would hold the price down to something more reasonable. “’Course, I would expect to pay for somebody to take a chance on gettin’ shot. I managed to get away with a little bit of money I had saved up for a while.” He paused as if adding it up in his head. “I reckon I could come up with a hundred dollars apiece, if you help me stop him.”
Rafer looked at Luke and made a face. Back to Walt, he said, “A hundred dollars each would come in handy right now. I’d say you’ve got a deal, wouldn’t you, Luke?” Luke readily agreed.
“Good,” Walt said. “Let’s have a drink to seal the deal.” He turned to give the bartender a signal. “Now, I reckon we’ll have to decide how we’re gonna set up an ambush for him.”
Cal Devine, the bartender, brought a bottle of whiskey over to the table. “I was wonderin’ if anybody was gonna buy any whiskey, or if all three of you was just gonna set around polishin’ the seats of my chairs.”
“Go to hell, Cal, we got business to talk over,” Rafer responded.
They sat discussing different approaches to eliminating Walt’s problem without landing in jail. The law was almost nonexistent in the town, but the sheriff didn’t stand for outright assassinations on the streets without some sign of a duel. So it was a question of one of them calling Ben out, or just shooting him down in a crossfire as soon as he rode into town and then running for it. Rafer and Luke seemed to favor the latter, reasoning that the sheriff wasn’t going to chase them if they left town. Walt preferred to have them closer. He had checked into the hotel before he found his two partners in the Silver Dollar, and he wanted them to keep an eye on the entrances to the hotel when he was in his room. It was not an easy setup because they didn’t know what time of night or day Ben might show up.
* * *
“Ben Savage,” Lem Wooten pronounced slowly. “What brings you to town? Word got around that you weren’t a Ranger no more.” The owner of the stable had never been especially cordial to Ben.
“That’s only partially true,” Ben replied. “I’m still a Ranger, I just don’t work out of the Ranger company in Austin anymore. I’m followin’ the man who rode in on that buckskin in your corral, yonder, leadin’ that dun in the corner.”
“That a fact?” Lem asked. “What did he do?”
“Well, for one thing, he stole that dun. He’s wanted for murder and possession of stolen money and for breakin’ out of jail. It’s my job to return him to Waco for trial. When did he leave the horses?”
“This mornin’,” Lem said. “Left ’em here after he checked in the hotel. I reckon you’re gonna cost me a customer, like you always do when you show up in town.” Among the charges Ben had said Walt was wanted for, the one that kindled an interest was the one about being in possession of stolen money.
“The last time I came in here, I was ridin’ that dun in your corral right now and that’s the main reason I’m here today. I’ll tell you what, I’ll leave my horses with you while I’m in town and I’ll pay you for what’s owed for his and mine. Fair enough?”
“Fair enough,” Lem agreed.
“Eugene Harper still the sheriff?” Ben asked. Lem said that he was, so Ben pulled his rifle from his saddle and started toward the sheriff’s office on foot.
Lem stood watching him as he walked down the street. “He’s outta luck if he’s hopin’ to get much help outta the sheriff,” he predicted.
“You’re Ben Savage, ain’tcha?” A boy of about fourteen asked Ben when he walked into the sheriff’s office. He was sitting behind the desk and seemed not at all surprised to see him.
“That’s right,” Ben answered, wondering how the boy could know. He glanced toward the cells to notice they were all empty.
“Sheriff ain’t here,” the boy said before Ben asked. “He had to ride out east of town to see ’bout some missin’ cows.”
“I didn’t think he worked outside of town,” Ben said. “Well, when he comes back, tell him I tried to check in with him before I made an arrest.”
“I’ll tell him,” the boy said, then got up and followed Ben to the door to stand and watch as he walked toward the Silver Dollar Saloon. He turned around when he heard the sheriff come in from the storeroom. “He said to tell you he wanted to check in with you.”
“Yeah, I heard him,” Harper said. “I shoulda told you to ask him who he came to arrest. I bet it might be Walt Murphy. He just rode into town. It’s a good thing I saw Savage comin’. He’da wanted me to help him arrest Murphy, or whoever he’s chasin’, and I ain’t even had my dinner yet.”
Ben decided it a good idea to check the saloon before looking for Walt in the hotel, and the saloon most likely to attract him would be the Silver Dollar. It was close to dinner
time, but Walt might be inclined to have a drink before he ate. He stepped inside the door, holding his rifle in his right hand, and paused by the door to survey the room. There was no sign of Walt Murphy. He made one more sweep across the broad barroom, and when his gaze swept back, it came to rest on the eyes of Cal Devine. The bartender graced him with a wide smile. “Well, Mr. Ben Savage, welcome back to Navasota. If you’re lookin’ for Sheriff Walt Murphy, he ain’t here right now. You didn’t miss him by much, though. Him and his two bodyguards left here to go to the hotel. I expect he’ll be right glad to see you.”
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