The Devil's Boneyard

by William W. Johnstone; J. A. Johnstone

  “Who are his two bodyguards?”

  “Now that wouldn’t be too sportin’ of me to give out the names of our customers, would it? I mean, even if I did know.”

  “Much obliged,” Ben said and walked out the door, heading for the hotel. He trusted what little information he had gotten from the bartender because he knew Cal just well enough to believe he owed allegiance to the owner of the Silver Dollar and no one else. To Cal, it was much like a game of checkers between the lawmen and the outlaws and whoever won was of no consequence to him. So now, he was confident that Walt had hired two men to help with his ambush and was planning to hole up in the hotel until they did the job for him.

  When he started down the street, he noticed a man seemingly loitering around the front entrance to the hotel. He stepped inside a store doorway to take a longer look at the man and decided he could be one of the two men Walt hired. On a hunch, he left the doorway and walked down the side of the store to the alley behind the buildings. When he approached the back of the hotel, he hugged the rear wall of the barbershop next to the hotel while he watched the back entrance. After a few seconds, he spotted him, a second man generally fitting the description of the man by the front entrance. He had been sitting on the other side of the back steps and got up, evidently to stretch before sitting down again.

  The bodyguards, Ben thought, for what other reason would the two men have for standing at the front and back doors? To get by them without tipping anybody off was not going to be easy. The thought had no time to age before he saw the way. There, actually on the side of the building, was another back door. This one led to the kitchen. That would be his entrance.

  Still hugging the barbershop wall, he slid along it to the corner of the building where he could quickly slip around it and be out of the view of the backdoor guard. As soon as he slipped around the corner, he waited, his rifle trained on the back corner of the main hotel building. When no one appeared to challenge him, he walked across the narrow alley, up three steps, and went in the kitchen door. “Don’t mind me, ladies,” he said to the cook and one of the waitresses, both of whom were stopped in their tracks to gape, surprised. He walked on through the kitchen and stopped at the dining room door to see if Walt was there.

  As he scanned the room, his gaze stopped on a woman near the inside door that led into the hotel. She was staring openly at him with an authoritative look about her, obviously wondering what he was doing in the kitchen. Ben figured she was likely the dining room manager. He decided it best to approach her in his capacity as a lawman, so he walked straight to her. “Afternoon, ma’am, I’m Texas Ranger Ben Savage,” he said. “Are you the manager?”

  “Yes, I’m the manager,” she replied, “Mildred Deaton. What can I do for you?” She eyed the rifle in his hand openly.

  “I’m concerned about the safety of one of the hotel guests. There have been some threats against his life. Walt Murphy, he checked in this mornin’, and I thought I was supposed to meet him here for dinner.”

  “Oh, my goodness,” Mildred reacted, somewhat distressed that some form of violence might be threatening her dining room. “There must be some mistake. There’s only been one new guest that’s checked in this morning and that was Mr. Thompson.”

  “Thompson,” Ben echoed. “That’s right, we were goin’ to use that name this time. He hasn’t been in to eat yet, has he? I’m supposed to meet him here.”

  “He’s not coming here for dinner,” Mildred said. “Mr. Thompson made special arrangements to eat in his room. Blanche should be about ready to take it up to him now.”

  “I don’t know why he didn’t think to tell me about it,” Ben said, with a frustrated shake of his head. I reckon I’ll have to sit and watch him eat in his room. If it’s about ready, I’ll just wait and go up with Blanche.” He gave her a smile then and said, “I think your other guests will be more comfortable without me and my guns sittin’ down here.”

  “I think so,” she replied. “I’m glad you appreciate that. I’ll see if Mr. Thompson’s dinner is ready.” She went to the kitchen and had no sooner gone through the door when she came right back out with Blanche following her.

  Blanche took another look at the big man who had surprised them when he came in the kitchen door and signaled him to follow her with a nod of her head. He stepped quickly in front and opened the door for her. “Thank you, sir,” she said sweetly and led him down a hallway to the back stairs. “Mr. Thompson’s in the best room in the hotel,” she commented as they climbed the stairs. “He must be somebody important to have so many men guarding him.”

  “Oh, he is,” Ben replied.

  “He must have plenty of money, too, to take that room.”

  “Oh, he does,” Ben responded. Only, it ain’t his, he thought.

  When they reached the second floor, Blanche led him all the way back to the front of the hotel where the rooms overlooked the street. “Here we are,” she said, “room number one. I’ll bet he’ll be surprised to see you.”

  “I expect he will,” Ben said. And so will I, if his name’s really Thompson.

  Blanche rapped on the door and promptly received a reply from inside. “Who is it?”

  “It’s Blanche, Mr. Thompson. I brought you your dinner.” They heard the sound of the key turning in the lock. Then, before Ben could stop her, Blanche said, “One of your guards came up with me.”

  Immediately irritated to think one of the men had left his post by the door, Walt jerked the door open, ready to berate the guilty party. When he found the doorway filled with Ben Savage, he was too startled to react quickly enough to avoid the butt of the rifle that knocked him flat on his back. Although he was still holding the pistol he had drawn as a precaution, his hand was pinned to the floor by Ben’s boot, while the muzzle of the rifle barrel was only inches from his face. “Hello, Walt, I believe you ran off without askin’ me if you could borrow my horse.” Walt could only stare up at him, his eyes glazed, unable to speak as yet.

  Equally startled, although uninjured, Blanche was also unable to speak for a few long moments. When she could, she asked, “Should I leave the tray, or bring it back later?”

  “Just set it down on that table over there,” Ben instructed. “And you just sit down beside it.” At this point, he didn’t want her to run all over the hotel yelling about what she just saw. “There ain’t no reason for you to be scared. I’m a Texas Ranger and this man is a wanted criminal. I’m placin’ him under arrest.” With his free hand, he freed the pistol from Walt’s hand, then rolled him over and cuffed his hands together. As an added precaution, he pulled a sheet off the bed and used it to bind Walt’s feet together, then left him there while he searched the room for the stolen money. It wasn’t hard to find. Two canvas bags were sitting beside the bed with a pair of saddlebags on top of them. Each bag had an article of clothing on top of the money to disguise it. When he was checking the saddlebags, he heard Blanche speak.

  “Mr. Stephens and Mildred were talking about the bags of clothes he brought with him,” she commented. “They said he musta been one helluva clotheshorse. Mr. Stephens said he acted like he had a lotta money and he reckoned rich folks could afford all the clothes they wanted.”

  Pleased to see that Blanche seemed to be calm now, Ben asked, “Who’s Mr. Stephens?” When told he was the owner of the hotel, Ben asked. “Is he here now?” She said he was. “Can you go get him for me and not say anything to anybody else about what’s goin’ on up here?” She nodded and went immediately to do his bidding. He thought it best to let her keep thinking the sacks held nothing more than clothes.

  When Blanche returned with John Stephens, Ben identified himself as a Ranger and told him who Walt really was. “I’m tryin’ to arrest this man without upsettin’ your hotel guests, but he’s got two more outlaws with him. You mighta noticed ’em—one at your front door, one at the back. They were supposed to keep any lawmen like me from gettin’ to him. I can take care of the other two men, but I could use a lit
tle help from you.” When Stephens immediately reacted as if he wanted no part in it, Ben assured him. “The only thing I want you to do is to go down to the jail and get Sheriff Harper to come back to take the other two men to jail.”

  “Just tell Harper to come get them?” Stephens wanted to be sure.

  “That’s all—and tell him he’ll need two pairs of handcuffs.”

  When Stephens left the room, Blanche took a look at the trussed-up prisoner, then asked, “Anything else I can do for you?”

  He had been trying to decide how he was going to handle the two guards, and she seemed almost excited to be involved at this point. So he asked, “Would you be afraid to go to the back door and tell the man sittin’ outside that Mr. Thompson said come up to the room?”

  “No, I can do that. He ain’t hardly going to do anything to me for that. I’ll do it!” She started for the door at once.

  “There’s one standin’ by the front door, too,” Ben said.

  “I’ll tell him, too,” she said and was off, excited to be part of the arrest.

  “Don’t you come back after you tell ’em,” he called after her. “I don’t want you to get in the way of any shootin’.” He heard her acknowledge as she hurried down the stairs.

  Around two minutes later, Rafer Black came up the front stairs to the second floor to find Luke Davis in the hallway, coming from the back stairs. “He send for you, too?” Rafer asked. “Did that little gal say what he wanted?”

  “Nope, just that he said he wanted to see me,” Luke answered.

  “Well, if he’s decided he don’t need us to take care of that jasper, it’s too late to get his money back ’cause we’re doin’ our part of the deal,” Rafer said. “Come on, we’ll see what he’s got in mind. That’s the room there with the door wide open.”

  They walked on up to the room and walked inside to be stopped by the sight of Walt Murphy lying against the front wall, his hands locked behind his back, and his feet bound together. “What tha . . . ?” was as far as Rafer got before the door slammed behind them.

  Both men jumped as if hearing a gunshot and started to react with gun hands reaching for their weapons. “I wouldn’t,” Ben warned. “First gun outta the holster gets shot. I’m Texas Ranger Ben Savage, and I wanna see your hands up in the air. Now!” He added when there was a show of reluctance from Rafer. When they did as he ordered, he pulled their guns out of their holsters. “Now, sit down over there against that wall. Cross your legs, Indian style, and sit down.”

  “Whaddaya arrestin’ us for?” Luke asked. “We ain’t done nothin’.”

  “Attempted murder,” Ben answered, “aidin’ Walt over there with tryin’ to ambush an officer of the law. I will have to admit it, though, you ain’t any good at it.”

  They didn’t sit there very long before they heard footsteps in the hall outside the door, followed seconds later by a loud knock. “This is Sheriff Harper! Open up in there!”

  “It ain’t locked, Sheriff, come on in,” Ben called back. The door opened slowly as if the sheriff was afraid it might be a trap. “Looks like you took care of that cattle rustlin’ problem,” Ben said.

  “What cattle rustlin’ problem?” Harper started, then quickly replied, “Oh, right, yeah, that got took care of. What’s goin’ on here, Savage? What do I need two pair of cuffs for?”

  “For those two gentlemen sittin’ on the floor over there. They’re yours. By my authority as a Texas Ranger, I’m leavin’ those two in your custody and recommendin’ they spend two or three days in your jail for planning to kill an officer of the law. That one’s mine.” He pointed to Walt. “I’m takin’ him straight back to Waco for trial. He’s the only one I came after. He broke jail in Waco. I’ll be startin’ back with him tonight.”

  Harper stood for a few moments looking down at the two men sitting against the wall. “Rafer Black and Luke Davis,” he pronounced with unhidden contempt. “If you two ain’t a pair of jokers. I knew, if you hung around town long enough, you’d find a way to cause me trouble.” He nodded toward Walt. “You don’t want me to hold that one, too?”

  “Nope, I know he’s anxious to get back to Waco as fast as he can, so we’ll head out that way just as soon as I pack up the horses.”

  “Suit yourself,” Harper said. “I’ll take care of these two—always like to help the Rangers when I can.” As he said it, he was thinking he’d most likely hold Rafer and Luke overnight and let them go tomorrow and to hell with Ben’s recommendations. He didn’t want the bother of two prisoners. Had he known the big Ranger better, he might have known that Ben suspected as much. And that was the reason he planned to ride straight west to Austin with Walt, instead of north to Waco. There was no use taking a chance on the two small-time outlaws deciding to come after him.

  Ben thanked Harper for his cooperation and waited for him to take his prisoners out of the hotel before he got Walt ready to go. John Stephens was standing by the front desk when Ben marched Walt to the front door. He stopped Walt there while he asked Stephens if he had Walt’s bill ready. Surprised, Stephens opened the register and quickly came up with a total for the time Walt was there. “Mark it paid for me and sign it,” Ben said. Then, while Walt stood there sneering, Ben fished in his pockets for a roll of money and paid Stephens. When he had his receipt, he placed the saddlebags on Walt’s shoulders and wedged the largest of the canvas sacks between his locked arms behind his back. Carrying the other sack, himself, he herded Walt out the door and up the street to the stable.

  CHAPTER 24

  “Damned if he didn’t do it,” Lem Wooten muttered to himself when he looked out toward the street and saw Ben marching Walt toward the stable. Of special interest to him now were the saddlebags on Walt’s shoulders and the canvas bags both he and Ben carried. The remark Savage had made about possession of stolen money came to mind. He must have robbed a bank, he thought. “You fixin’ to leave?” Lem called out.

  “Just as fast as I can load up,” Ben answered.

  Lem didn’t go at once to get the horses. Instead he stood by the entrance to the stable and gawked at the prisoner and the canvas bags. “What’s in the sacks?”

  “Nothin’ that would interest you,” Ben replied. “Let’s get the horses.”

  “Right,” Lem responded, but he continued to stare at Walt, whose face was half-covered with drying blood from the cut across his forehead, the result of Ben’s rifle butt. Almost as if reading Lem’s thoughts, Walt glanced down at one of the sacks, now on the floor at his feet. He glanced back up to meet Lem’s gaze and slowly nodded. “Right,” Lem said again when Ben turned toward him, about to tell him again. “I’ll bring that dun up and let you saddle him. Which one do you wanna put your prisoner on?” Ben told him the buckskin. “Looks like you opened up his head pretty good,” Lem went on. “You want me to get a pan of water, so he can wash some of that blood outta his eyes?” He gave Walt a hard, unblinking stare.

  “No, he’s all right,” Ben said, “just bring up the horses.”

  Aware now that Lem was offering a proposition of help, conveyed solely by the exchanges of glances, in exchange for part of the money in the bags, Walt immediately complained. “How ’bout it, Savage? You’re holdin’ all the cards. What’s it gonna hurt to let me clean some of this blood outta my eyes? You can unlock my hands long enough to do that. Hell, I can’t hardly move my shoulder, and you’ll have your gun on me. If you don’t wanna do that, you can wash my face for me.”

  Ben hesitated, wondering what Walt might be up to. He decided, however, that there wasn’t much Walt could do. If he made a move to escape, he would shoot him. “All right, if that will make you more comfortable.” He looked at Lem then and said, “Get him a pan of water and a rag.”

  “Right,” Lem said again. “I’ll be right back.” In a few minutes, he returned with a large pan. “I got a big’un. This is one I use when I’m doctorin’ a horse.” He didn’t exaggerate. The pan was large enough to hide the pistol he was holding on the sid
e away from Ben. “I’ll set it down on that shelf by the side of that stall there. He can wash up there.” He laid the pan down carefully, keeping the loaded revolver hidden behind it. Then he stepped away from it.

  “All right, Walt,” Ben said and turned him to face the pan on the shelf. “I shouldn’t have to warn you. Any funny moves and I’ll shoot you down.” He unlocked the handcuffs and drew his six-gun. “Walk straight to that shelf and wash up.”

  Walt did as Ben instructed, although confused by Lem Wooten’s actions. He had been sure he and Lem had communicated a deal and he had expected Lem to simply shoot Ben without warning. As soon as he reached the pan of water, however, he understood Lem’s thinking. He would provide the weapon, but he didn’t have the guts to shoot the Ranger. The yellow dog, he thought. He might have paid him a couple of hundred dollars for shooting Savage, but now, he would give him about twenty dollars for the use of the gun. Maybe more, he reconsidered when he thought of the pleasure he was about to receive when Ben Savage was shot down by his hand. He felt the shiver of a thrill race through his veins when he anticipated the moment when Ben realized he had been outfoxed. With his back toward Ben, he splashed some water on his face with his left hand while his right hand held the pistol behind the pan. “You know, Savage, I figured me and you was meant to stand and face each other and find out for sure who’s the best man.” Ben didn’t comment. “That would be the kinda shoot-out folks would talk about for years.”

  “Hurry up and get finished with that,” Ben replied. “I don’t wanna spend all night gettin’ you on your way to prison, or a hangin’, whatever the judge decides.” He glanced over at Lem again. The stable owner, seemed extremely fidgety, biting his lower lip nervously, and continued to edge backward as if expecting something to happen. Ben wasn’t sure why, but something prompted him to take a couple of steps to the side as Walt appeared to finish.