Outlaw Country

by A. T. Butler

  The hallway was short, too short for Jacob to be able to give much chase, but when the skinny stranger slowed at the top of the stairs, he saw his chance. Jacob took one last flying leap to tackle the other man, pushing him into the wall and pinning the target under his considerable bulk.

  “Hold it,” he said with a growl. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  The stringy haired man squirmed under Jacob’s weight, trying to kick him and gain leverage against the wall at the same time. The bounty hunter was now well accustomed to the tactics of men trying to escape him and shifted his weight accordingly. He pushed his meaty forearm against the man’s Adam’s apple, holding him firm against the wall and waited for the stranger to give up the struggle.

  “You gonna suffocate yourself?” Jacob taunted. “We just want to ask you a few questions.”

  When the man continued to twist and thresh, Jacob sighed and punched him in the ribs. An anguished gasp escaped him as his legs buckled.

  “I didn’t want to have to do that.” Jacob stepped away from the man, keeping a firm grip on his arm but leaving him space to catch his breath. “I did warn you. Come on.”

  Without waiting for the stranger to fully recover, Jacob dragged him back up the couple steps to the second floor landing where the deputy was watching with admiration.

  “Nice job, Payne.”

  “This is the guy.” Jacob shook the man’s arm. “One of the ones I noticed downstairs watching Timson earlier.”

  “Is he?” Lowry looked the dirty stranger up and down.

  “Looks like the man Bonnie described too, huh?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the man said snarling. “I don’t know nothin’ about Timson.”

  “Yeah. Sure. Let’s take him down to Randall’s office,” Lowry said. “I bet he has plenty to tell us.”

  The stranger was beginning to recover his breath, as well as his strength. Jacob twisted the man’s arm behind his back, holding him more securely for the march downstairs. Lowry crossed back to the dead man’s room, took one more look inside and closed the door securely behind him.

  “Here.” Jacob used a free hand to dig a single match out of his pocket. “Stick that between the door and the frame and then we’ll know if anyone goes in there before we get back.”

  Lowry started a bit; the idea took him by surprise. He nodded as he took it. “You’re right. Smart, Payne.”

  After securing the door, the deputy led the way down the stairs, Jacob and the intruder following closely. Every few steps, Lowry glanced behind him making sure that Jacob had not lost his grip or needed help. They descended into the main room of the saloon where the Saturday evening shenanigans were beginning to wind down.

  As they reached the foot of the stairs, the man tried again to shake of Jacob’s grip.

  “Let me go,” he hissed under his breath. “Get off. I’ll go with you, just let me walk.”

  Jacob smirked. Whoever this stranger was, he didn’t want to be associated with the law. This man appearing in the custody of the deputy would likely injure his reputation among the other men in Tucson. Especially if he was otherwise on the other side of the law. Jacob watched the reactions of the other men in the room as they passed through the crowd. Some avoided looking at him; some stared openly.

  About halfway through the room, Jacob spied the blond stranger he had noticed earlier that evening, but that man didn’t see him. He was deep in conversation with one of the girls. With the stranger’s attention thus diverted, Jacob was able to give him a long, hard look, examining him for any detail that could shed light on the mystery. Why had he been so focused on Timson earlier that evening? Who was he and where had he come from?

  In his lingering glance, Jacob noticed a dark stain on the man’s shirt, near his ribs and about the size of a man’s hand. In this light, through the crowd, he couldn’t be sure but it appeared to be a smear, as though the man had wiped something off his hand onto his side.

  He could be wrong, but Jacob’s immediate guess was that the man had blood on his clothes. Blood that maybe he picked up somewhere else, but that had certainly appeared in the time since Jacob very first entered the saloon.

  “Here we go,” Lowry said as they reached the doorway to the owner’s office.

  Jacob turned his attention back to the man in his grasp. Lowry knocked briefly and let himself in without waiting for a response from within. When he swung the door open, Jacob got a clear view of Randall sitting at his desk in the middle of the room. His face registered surprise and maybe even mild panic as he pushed something from the desk top into a nearby drawer. The man stood to greet his visitors.

  “Deputy— You … uh. What can I do for you?”

  “We need the private space, Randall. I’m sure you understand. We found this piece of trash,” he pointed to the man in Jacob’s grip, “trying to get into Timson’s room. Gotta question him.”

  “Oh. Yes. Alright.” Randall looked around the room nervously. “I think, well … You have enough room in here? I could open up one of the other rooms upstairs.”

  “We’re already here. Let’s get this over with,” Lowry said. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

  Randall nodded, seeming to acquiesce. “Sure. Yeah. I’ll just be outside, then.”

  Lowry nodded and took Randall’s seat behind the desk as the other man slunk out the door. Jacob dropped his captive in the single empty chair and leaned against the closed door, blocking any escape.

  “So. Mr … ” Lowry began.

  “Fu—”

  “Now, now. I’m sure that’s not your name, nor is that kind of language necessary. We have ways of finding out and you might as well tell us now instead of after you’ve spent a night in jail.” He shrugged. “But it doesn’t matter to me.”

  The bedraggled man glared at Lowry, turned to glare at Jacob and assess his chances of breaking out of the room, and then slumped back into his chair. “They call me Lenny,” he said sullenly, shaking his hair back off his face. “Lenny Duffin.”

  Jacob wondered how much of a chance it was that Lenny was an alias, but he didn’t press it. Instead he leaned over the man and asked, “And what are you doing in Tucson, Lenny?”

  “What were you doing in Timson’s room?”

  “Nothing,” he grumbled.

  “Must have been doing something,” Jacob said. “What were you doing upstairs, if not for that?”

  “You were all alone, so don’t give us any stories about any girls,” Lowry added.

  Lenny shrugged.

  Jacob nudged his chair from behind, startling the man.

  “What—?”

  “What were you doing upstairs?” Jacob repeated.

  Lenny glared at Lowry, who responded with a grin.

  “I’ve got all night,” the deputy said, leaning back in his chair and putting his feet on the desk.

  Lenny held the man’s glare for nearly a minute in silence before turning to glare at Jacob. Neither man gave an inch or any indication they would budge. This was simply a matter of waiting him out. Jacob could lean against that door forever, waiting for the man to spill what he knows.

  “Fine,” Lenny grumbled. “I was upstairs to check out that room. But I wasn’t looking for anything specific.”

  “Then why even bother?” Jacob asked. “Why risk it?”

  Lenny shrugged again. “I dunno. I had heard the guy was dead and I thought there might be something worth … liberating.”

  “Liberating?” Jacob repeated, incredulously.

  Lowry scoffed. “You expect us to believe that? Jacob here saw you watching the victim earlier in the evening.”

  “I didn’t do anything,” Lenny insisted. “I was just watching the fight. The little guy was making a big fuss, wasn’t he? Everyone was watching.”

  “How’d you hear he had died?”

  Lenny glared at Jacob.

  “How’d you hear he died?” he asked again.

  “People talk.
”

  “Goddamn it, Duffin,” Lowry exclaimed. “What are you hiding? Maybe I should just lock you up now for suspicion of murder.”

  “Wait, no.” Lenny raised his hands in surrender. “I swear. That’s all. I heard the saloon owner, what’s his name?”

  “Randall.”

  “Him.” Lenny nodded. “I overheard him tell one of the girls that one of his best paying customers had kicked the bucket. Thought I’d check it out.”

  “What else did he say?”

  “I didn’t hear it,” Lenny retorted. “I was already on my way upstairs.”

  “Did anyone else overhear?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know. I don’t pay attention.”

  “You expect us to believe that?” Jacob asked.

  “That’s it,” Lenny said. “That’s all I know. You’re wasting your time with me.”

  Jacob was inclined to believe the man. While it felt like there was certainly a few things he was hiding, it seemed that the murder of Bob Timson was one of them. Lowry caught his eye over Lenny’s head. Jacob shrugged, letting the deputy make the final call.

  “Alright, Duffin,” Lowry said. “I’m going to keep an eye on you, but for tonight, you’re free to go. If we need to ask you any more questions, I expect you to be cooperative, you hear?”

  Lenny was already to his feet and halfway to the door.

  “Yeah yeah,” he muttered.

  Jacob stepped aside and let the man exit the office. Lowry was on his feet and stood in the doorway watching the strange man push his way through the crowd to the door of the saloon.

  The crowd in the saloon was thinning out, men going home or to their girl’s room for the evening. The last of the revelers. Jacob spotted the stranger from earlier, blond with the green boots, still leaning over the bar and nursing his beer. From this angle the blood stain wasn’t visible, but Jacob was certain he had seen it earlier.

  “Know who that is?” Jacob asked, pointing out the man to the deputy.

  Lowry craned his neck to see around someone else. “Not right off. He looks familiar though.”

  “Wonder how long he’s been in town.”

  “Wonder why I know his face.”

  “Maybe check the stack of wanted posters,” Jacob suggested.

  “Yeah. I will. Good thinking. Damn, Payne. There are always so many outlaws come through this town. I don’t know how we’re expected to catch up.”

  “Yeah, well. That’s what bounty hunters are for,” he said with a grin. “I still don’t like that we haven’t had a word with Holly, though.”

  “You’re right. I’d like to know what she saw.”

  “First thing tomorrow,” Jacob said. “Let’s meet back here and see if we can’t get a word with the madam.”

  Chapter Seven

  The following morning, Jacob strode down the main street in Tucson to the sound of church bells. While other citizens were saving their souls and recovering from their late night, he was eager to make progress on this investigation. With the large number of suspects, any one of whom could leave town and escape justice at any moment, the pressure was on to solve the mystery and make an arrest.

  Jacob thanked God it was Sunday. None of the stagecoach drivers would want to set out on this day, so their suspects would—should—be stuck in town until at least the next morning. He and Deputy Lowry had time. Not a lot of time, but some.

  Even waiting overnight to question more witnesses had caused him no small anxiety. If this had been a bounty he was after, he would have pushed through, following leads, waking men up if necessary as he gathered the details he needed to make his capture. But here in town, both abiding within the law and working with the citizens of Tucson, he had to go at a slower pace. He hoped they could move fast enough to catch Timson’s killer.

  As he walked from his small rented room to the saloon where he was to meet Deputy Lowry, Jacob reviewed the information they had gathered the night before. The victim, Bob Timson, seemed to be a man that had no qualms about making enemies. Whether that was because of his own confidence in his status or because he was used to changing towns and evading conflict regularly, Jacob didn’t know. But the fact remained that so far they had discovered no fewer than three different people in town that had a reason to want to hurt Timson.

  If the murder weapon was the knife that had belonged to the victim, that meant that any one of the suspects would have had access to it, not to mention Holly. All they had needed to do was enter Timson’s room behind him and somehow take control of it.

  That meant that he and Lowry would need to figure out which of these possible suspects had the access. Which of them was so driven by their anger or greed or whatever their motive was to follow through on the impulse.

  Jacob was lost in thought and didn’t realize he was already on the boardwalk in front of the Golden Saddle Saloon until he heard someone call his name.

  “Payne! Wait a minute.”

  He turned to see Deputy Lowry walking quickly down the deserted dirt street toward him, waving a piece of paper. Immediately, Jacob’s stomach was in his throat. Some new piece of information had come to light. They could be one big step closer to solving this murder.

  “What did you find?”

  “Look at this.” Lowry reached his side and thrust the paper at him. “Just look. I told you his face was familiar.”

  Jacob took the proffered page and found himself staring into the dark, soulless eyes of the blond stranger he had seen the night before. The man Jacob had spotted with a wide smear of blood on his shirt was the same man that was wanted for murder in Albuquerque. Earl Pelling, just under six feet and near two hundred pounds, was under suspicion for murdering a family of five outside of the city, approximately two weeks ago. According to the bulletin Jacob held, Earl was also wanted for questioning about the disappearance of the family’s six horses, including one highly prized stallion.

  “Well, look at this,” Jacob said softly.

  “That’s him, right? That’s the man you saw last night?”

  “Sure looks like him.” Jacob read over the man’s charges again, disgusted at the horror another human being could cause.

  “Wanted for murder and you spotted blood on his clothes? We’re going to need to find this Earl Pelling fella.”

  Jacob nodded. “Maybe Randall knows about him, since every visitor to Tucson ends up coming through this saloon eventually.”

  “Seems like we got plenty to do this morning.” Lowry took the wanted poster back, folded it and stuffed it in an interior jacket pocket. He pushed the saloon door open and gestured Jacob to follow him.

  “We’re closed,” a thin voice called to them as they stepped through the door. “Come back at midday.”

  “Sheriff’s Deputy Lowry,” he said, flashing his badge. “We have some questions. Were you here last night?”

  The heavyset, balding man approached the end of the bar nearest the door where Jacob and Lowry had entered. He eyed the proffered badge before saying, “I’ll get Mr. Hall for you.”

  “Wait,” Jacob said. “What about you? Did you work last night?”

  “What’s your name, sir?” Lowry asked.

  “Benny.” He looked back to where Randall’s office door stood closed. “Benny Lanham. And I wasn’t here last night.”

  “Thanks, Benny,” Lowry said, leaning over the bar toward him. Benny took a step back. “Did you hear anything about what happened last night? Anything seem different this morning?”

  The man shrugged.

  “Mr. Hall didn’t tell you any news?” Jacob pressed. “Have you seen Ms. Merritt yet this morning?”

  Benny sucked at his front teeth. “Should I get Mr. Hall for you?”

  “Yeah,” Lowry said. “Get him. But we’re not done with you.”

  Jacob and the deputy made themselves comfortable on barstools while the taciturn man fetched his employer.

  “If it wasn’t him,” Jacob said, “we could find the bartender working last night
. He probably talked to Earl if nothing else.”

  “What can I help you gentlemen with?” they heard from across the room.

  When Jacob looked up, Randall was striding toward them quickly. His expression looked pained; his welcoming smile seemed forced. That was understandable. He had had a murder investigation going on in his place of business for the last twelve hours. It must be trying.

  “Randall,” Lowry said, offering his hand to shake. “Thank you for meeting with us again. We just have a few more questions. Should we go to your office?”

  The deputy moved to walk to the back of the saloon, but Randall stopped him.

  “Here is fine,” he said impatiently. “It’s fine. What are your questions?”

  “Has Ms. Merritt been down yet this morning?” Jacob began. “We still need to speak to her about what she saw last night.”

  “Not yet. Although … “ Randall trailed off and glanced at the foot of the stairs. Jacob saw his body stiffen a tiny bit. Something had shifted in the man’s mind, a decision reached or choice made. He lowered his voice. “I feel like I should warn you boys about her, while we have a moment.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She is … well. I guess I’ll just say to tread lightly. Be careful trusting what she says.”

  “Really? She always seemed so kind to me,” Jacob said. He knew a woman in Holly’s profession might be looked at askance by a lot of men, but he figured as a fellow business owner Randall must trust her at least enough. “What do you mean?”

  Randall’s eyes grew cold. “She’s poison.”

  “Holly?” Jacob had been surprised out of his normal politeness. “Holly Merritt?”

  Randall nodded. “Just be careful. She says she came across the body already stabbed, but how do we know that? She claims to have been so shaken up that she had to retire for the rest of the night, but then she just got out of talking to you fine gentleman.”

  “That’s true,” Lowry said.

  “I’m just saying,” Randall continued. “Be careful with her.”

  “Right. Thanks for the warning. We actually have a couple questions for you too.”