Desert Rage

by A. T. Butler

  “That’s a good tip,” Jacob said. “We’ll do that.”

  Santos took a drink of his coffee, made a face, then drank down several more gulps. “I’m gonna go wake the other boys,” he said, standing. “Payne, you stay here and talk to Fitz when he’s in, will you? The deputies and me’ll get to work on the perimeter around the bank.”

  “I can do that, Marshal,” Jacob said with a nod. “And don’t worry about Stone. He’s as good as yours.”

  Santos nodded shortly and strode away. They heard his boots clomp up the stairs. Ferguson winced, and Jacob wondered how much the other guests of the hotel would be able to hear that.

  “Do you really think you’ll get him?” the hotel proprietor asked quietly. “Stone hasn’t been caught yet, you know. By anyone.”

  “I think this is a good chance,” Jacob allowed. “We’ve got a head start on him and a good team assembled. And we’ll be sure to get more information. Tell me more about Fitz.”

  “He only started here a few months ago,” Ferguson said, sipping his coffee. “He’s the best cook we’ve had here in Olmos for a long while. I heard he was Stone’s personal cook before they got in a fight over a girl.”

  “What kind of man is he?”

  Ferguson took another sip; Jacob suspected he was stalling for time.

  “He’s… Well, he’s the kind of man you want to be careful with, I’d say.”

  The young man was spared making any further definite statements by the arrival of another man in the dining room. He entered through the front door, and as Jacob looked up he realized they must be getting close to time for the saloon to open.

  “Mr. Fitzgerald,” Ferguson said, standing to greet the newcomer. “I’ve got a man here who wants to talk to you.”

  Chapter Five

  Jacob stood to greet Mr. Fitzgerald—Fitz—as he entered the dining room. He had never seen a man like this. He was built like a buffalo: enormously broad across the shoulders, wide in the torso, but narrowed down to impossibly thin legs. And seemed to be covered all over in hair. His thick brown beard and hair both fell halfway down his abdomen.

  He scratched at his chest under his beard as he crossed the room to them.

  “I keep telling you,” he bellowed, “call me Fitz. The mister makes me itchy.”

  He offered his hand to Jacob, looking him up and down as they shook. Jacob had rare occasion to meet a man bigger than he was, but this Fitz character was a mountain.

  “Jacob Payne,” he said. “In town with the marshal from Tucson. I have some questions for you, if you have a minute.”

  “Well, I don’t,” the big man said matter-of-factly. “Unless you want to roll up your sleeves and start chopping onions. I got work that needs doing. You can do it with me and we’ll talk, or you can go about your business.”

  Jacob grinned at the man’s candidness. “I can chop onions. Put me to work, sir.”

  “Sir makes me itchy too,” Fitz said over his shoulder as he strode past Jacob into the kitchen. “It’s just Fitz.”

  “Thanks for the coffee,” Jacob said to Ferguson as he followed the cook into the kitchen.

  The moment they crossed into the small room, the other man seized two of the largest knives in sight, spun around and threatened the bounty hunter with impalement on one or both of the sharp tips.

  “What do you want?”

  Jacob instinctively put his hands up, and wracked his brain for any mention or hint of a known outlaw that matched Fitz’s description. He didn’t exactly fear for his life, but how cautious should he be right now?

  “I’m looking for some information and Mr. Ferguson suggested you might be able to help,” Jacob said slowly, soothingly as though trying to calm a wild animal. “That’s all I want. Just information.”

  “About what?” Fitz demanded.

  “What you might know about … Elliott Stone.”

  “Slippery?” Fitz asked, scornfully. He lowered the knives. “Yeah, I can tell you some about him. What do you want to know?”

  Jacob hesitated where to start.

  “Mr. Ferguson gave me the impression you were a cook for Stone for a time. Is that right? Do anything else for that man, or his gang?”

  “Yep it’s right. But, nope. Nothin’ else.”

  He turned one of the knives so the handle was toward Jacob. The bounty hunter looked from the knife to the man and back again.

  “Over there,” Fitz said, gesturing with a nod. “As long as you’re chopping, I’m talking.”

  Jacob glanced to where the big man indicated and saw a tall pile of yellow onions spilling over the workspace. “I can do that,” he said, taking the knife from Fitz.

  The cook followed him to the far table, and set a big pot down heavily. “Fill this. What else you want to know about Slippery?” He patted Jacob heartily on the shoulder before crossing to the other table crammed in the small space. He lit a fire and set a pot to warming.

  The bounty hunter thought about how to word his questions and sliced the first onion in half; the pungent stench stung his eyes. Jacob had always had a more sensitive nose than most people, but he pushed past it. “How long ago were you with the gang?”

  “I told you. I never was with the gang. Slippery just brought me on to cook for them. I always stayed back at the camp minding my own business while they went about theirs.” The big man started tossing flour, butter, eggs and Jacob couldn’t tell what else into a big bowl. He mixed vigorously as he answered questions.

  “How’d you find yourself in that position, then?” Jacob eyes continued to water as he chopped.

  Fitz shrugged. “Didn’t have nothing else to do. Hooked up with Slippery round about El Paso. I had been there for a few weeks, making my way cooking for a cathouse, when Slippery came in. He liked my onion soup and my rhubarb pie and made me an offer. That town was getting too hot for me to handle, as it happens, so I accepted.”

  “When was this?”

  “Oh, let’s see.” Fitz scratched at his neck under his beard. As he thought, he scooped of what looked like dough from a covered clay pot into the bowl he had been stirring. “Must be nine or ten months ago now. After El Paso we came farther west. Stoppin’ here and there as his business required, you understand.”

  Jacob wanted to ask more about Stone’s business. There was, of course, the delicate matter of not wanting to accuse this man of involvement unfairly.

  “And you were with him for six months or so?”

  “Right. Right about that, yeah. I left because one of— well, actually two of Slippery’s guys were getting out of hand. Brothers. They’d keep going off on their own, making more trouble for the gang.”

  “You included?”

  “Hell yes,” Fitz said emphatically. He sprinkled a handful of flour on the tabletop and upended the bowl he had been mixing. A mound of dough sat waiting to be handled. “Those goddamned Maloneys. Always thinking they were smarter than everyone else. So, a couple months ago, the brothers set to stealing a barnful of horses, and ended up killing the kid who got in their way. Couldn’ta been more than ten years old and just wanted to keep his gelding. Slippery made amends to the parents as much as he could, but I wasn’t having any more of it. I don’t want to be feeding men like that. They ain’t going to be roving around the countryside with my help. So I lit on out of there. Olmos wasn’t my first stop, but this is where I managed to find me a proper job. The owner here was more than happy to look the other way when I told him where I come from.”

  Jacob listened to this story with interest. He had never pegged Elliott “Slippery” Stone as the kind of man who would make amends for another fellow’s error, but if Fitz was to be believed, he did it without complaint. But Stone’s behavior wasn’t the only part of that story that grabbed his attention.

  “Did you say Maloney brothers? Two of them? Was one of them named Seamus by any chance?”

  “How’d you know that?” Fitz asked, narrowing his eyes at Jacob. “He get mixed up with the law aga
in?”

  Jacob dumped several handfuls of chopped onions into the pot before answering. “Were you very close to Seamus Maloney?” he asked, trying to be casual.

  “Seamus? No. Not particularly. He was a mean son-of-a but manageable. If Colin weren’t around Seamus might have been a better part of the gang.”

  “Hm,” said Jacob, noncommittally. “So it was these boys that drove you to leave the gang? Any hard feelings with Stone?”

  “Nah. He understood. Real understanding man, that one. He’s a real leader. Not what you’d expect of an outlaw but…” Fitz shrugged. “I suppose it ain’t strictly true to say he’s a ‘good’ man, but he certainly could have been worse. Why is it you need to know all of this stuff, eh?”

  Jacob weighed his next words carefully. Could he trust this man? He had, after all, been part of the Slippery Stone Gang hadn’t he?

  “Here,” Fitz said walking over to where Jacob was still chopping onions. “Try this for me. I think it needs more somethin’ … pepper, maybe.”

  He held out a small bowl with a few spoonfuls of soup in it. Jacob took it from him, raised the spoon to his lips and swallowed a mouthful. The mellow scent rounded out to a sharp, bright taste. The sweet onions Jacob had been chopping seemed destined for another batch of this.

  Impressed, he looked back up at Fitz. “Is this the onion soup Stone hired you for? I think it’s perfect. Where’d you learn to cook like that?”

  “Army,” he said shortly. “Confederates. Had to make do with practically nothing.”

  “You did God’s work then, my friend,” Jacob said with a grin, handing back the bowl. “I was a Confederate myself and if I had tasted anything this good I could have beaten the entire Union Army single-handedly.”

  Fitz laughed and returned to his soup pot over the fire. The two men worked in silence for another moment before Jacob spoke up again.

  “We got word that we should expect Stone and his gang to hit the bank across the street here. Sometime before tomorrow afternoon.”

  Jacob glanced over at Fitz, trying to gauge his reaction. The other man tasted his soup one last time before putting the lid on the pot and moving back to the dough that needed his attention.

  “Is tomorrow the last day before the stagecoach takes the money?” Fitz asked.

  Jacob chuckled. “It is.”

  “Yep, that sounds like Slippery. Efficient as ever. Where’d you hear about this alleged scheme?”

  “One of his girls got arrested in Phoenix and talked.”

  “And you believe her?”

  Jacob shrugged, putting another few handfuls of chopped onions into his pot. “Should we not?”

  “Couldn’t really say. Depends on which girl. Depends on what she knows.” He shrugged. “All’s I can tell you is it sounds like the kind of thing Slippery Stone would do, so you’re best to assume it will happen.”

  “Anything else we should worry about, like tricks he might use or distractions to look out for?”

  Fitz appeared to consider the question for a moment before answering, “I dunno. That’s why he’s slippery, ain’t it? Sure, he’s efficient. He’ll go where the cash is. But otherwise he’s completely unpredictable. Only thing I can offer you is to hope that the Maloney brothers aren’t on this particular job with him.”

  Jacob nodded. “Thanks.”

  “That’s plenty of onions,” Fitz said, nodding to the nearly full pot next to Jacob. “That’ll keep me for the rest of the day. I imagine you have a lot you need to go take care of.”

  He tossed Jacob a scrap of cloth to wipe his hands on. The scent of onion would follow him for a bit, but he had gotten information they could use to take down the Slippery Stone Gang.

  Chapter Six

  When he left Fitz to his cooking and exited the saloon, Jacob realized it was now fully morning. The warm dawn light cast shadows across the dusty street, mostly still empty at this time of day. He stepped off the boardwalk and looked in both directions. Olmos was a small town, with one main road running straight through and then into the open desert at both ends. Small homes and storefronts were built off the main road, but none more than half a mile or so away.

  Though it was a small town, the next closest was a days’ ride. All the miners and ranchers in the area used the First Bank of Olmos when they had cash needs. The building standing across from him must have held the life savings of hundreds of families.

  After looking around, Jacob realized that if they positioned themselves right they should be able to see any gang of outlaws coming in plenty of time. The First Bank of Olmos was in the center of town, easy to defend but also easy to access.

  Jacob found the U.S. Marshal in the street out front of the bank talking with another man. Younger than Jacob, but with the bearing and presence of a man used to being in charge, the stranger seemed to be leading the conversation.

  “Payne,” Santos greeted him as Jacob approached. “Didn’t think I’d be seeing you first.”

  “Fitz was easy to talk to. Thought you could use my help right about now. The deputies still aren’t awake?”

  Santos shook his head. “Guess we’re getting started without them. You and me and the sheriff will have to finalize our decisions and fill the others in later.”

  “Sheriff Gleason,” the other man said, offering his hand to Jacob. “I can’t thank you boys enough for helping us out like this.”

  “Just doing our job, Sheriff. I’m sure the marshal told you the same thing.”

  “He did,” the sheriff said with a chuckle. He nervously unhooked and then re-hooked the hammer loop holding his revolver in place. “Doesn’t mean I’m not grateful and won’t be buying you all a drink later tonight if this all works out.”

  “I think we can handle that,” Santos said. “The sheriff here has just been telling me about the layout here, what we can expect from the bank management. What we need to be wary of. A couple of the boys that work here are going to insist on helping, probably.” He rolled his eyes. “I think we’ve got this stunt pretty well handled. Did you learn anything useful from the cook?”

  Jacob nodded. “Yep, some. Mostly just confirmed that the plan sounded like something Stone would do. Fitz himself wasn’t in on any of the gang’s crimes directly, but heard enough.”

  “And you believe him?”

  “I think I do. I could be wrong, though,” Jacob allowed. “I’ve been wrong before.”

  “Well, you’ve been right enough that I’m glad you’re here,” Santos said. “In fact, Sheriff and I were just laying out where we need each man to be. We’ll set up in our positions all day today and tomorrow just in case we’re wrong about the timing.”

  “Seems reasonable.” Jacob was already thinking about what he needed to do before then. Maybe seeing the town’s doctor, just to make sure his wound was healing properly would be prudent. He ws so consumed with his future plans that he almost missed what Santos said next.

  “Payne, I need you to be the man inside.”

  Jacob blinked in surprise. “Marshal, you know I’m here to help. I’ll do whatever needs doing, but have you forgotten that I’m still healing from this shot to the gut?” Jacob gestured to his side where the bulk of the bandage was easily visible under his shirt. “If things go south, I don’t know that I can be the man to chase someone down or fight with my fists.”

  “I know,” Santos said, nodding glumly. “But the fact is, Jacob, you’re the only one of all of us that isn’t known to Stone. My face,” he gestured. “The deputies, Sheriff Gleason. All of us have almost certainly been seen by or known to Stone through our line of work.”

  “The man hates me,” Gleason said with a laugh. “He’s going to hate me even more after this job.”

  “You’re right.” Jacob readily agreed, in spite of his misgivings. “Of course. That’s why I’m here. You want me inside the bank? The last line of defense.”

  “Exactly,” Santos said. “The sheriff and I will be in our rooms across the way.” He ge
stured to the hotel. “I’ll put each of the deputies a block or so away, watching for the gang come into town.”

  “And the goal?” Jacob clarified.

  “The aim will be to stop the gang before they even get to you,” he said. “But in the event that they somehow get passed us and into the building, we need a man there capable of taking control of the situation. A man that they won’t suspect as the law when they enter. It will give you at least some modicum of surprise.”

  Jacob nodded. It made sense. All he had to do was be ready and trust the others to do their jobs. That he could handle, bullet wound or no.

  The lawmen hustled the rest of the morning to get everything in place for their ambush. But then once it was settled, all they could do was wait. The following afternoon, Jacob found himself behind the counter of the First Bank of Olmos again. As each minute passed the tension rose. The two bank employees, Thomas and Wyatt, that had volunteered to be on duty that day were restless and fidgety.

  The sheriff had sent word around the town for the residents to avoid the bank at all costs that week. The manager, Mr. DeWitt who was safe at home, had grumbled about losing business for two full days, but Marshal Santos had set him straight in no uncertain terms. And while that esteemed, powerful man remained safe, Jacob had waited inside the bank fully armed and as ready as an injured man could be to defend the cash from the outlaws reportedly on their way to steal it.

  And now, still waiting for something to happen, Jacob stood with is back to the wall, with a view of the entire space. From what he had seen, the bank was one of the only buildings in Olmos that could boast of large front windows. This allowed Jacob a clear view the moment the Slippery Stone Gang approached, but also put anyone near the front of the bank at risk. He rested his hand on the butt of his gun, hammer loop undone and ready.

  “It’ll be today, won’t it, Mr. Payne?” Thomas asked. The young man had been the first to volunteer for this post. “It has to be today, doesn’t if? If they’re gonna come at all? Right? That’s what Sheriff Gleason said. Tuesday. He told me Tuesday.”