Author: William W. Johnstone
Category: Western
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“Where is he buried?”
Dalton pointed to a lone tree about fifty yards from the cabin. “Right over there, under that tree. It turns out that he had a bad heart, and he knew he was dying. The last time he saw the doc, he told him exactly where he wanted to be buried, so that’s what we did.”
“He picked a good spot,” Smoke said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Live Oaks Ranch
Tamara was in the library with Billy Lewis, viewing pictures through the stereoscope. Julia was looking on as she crocheted a scarf for Tamara.
“Look at this one,” Billy invited, passing the viewer to Tamara. “This is Castle Garden, in New York.”
“My, it’s as if we could walk right up to it and go inside,” Tamara said. “What makes it look so real? I’ve never seen photographs like this, before.”
“It is a special type of photography that produces something called a ‘three-dimensional’ photograph,” Julia explained. “It gives the pictures depth. I don’t quite know how it works, but it is perfectly marvelous.”
“Ha!” Billy said. “Here is a picture of a woman looking at pictures through the same device we are using. I wonder if she is looking at herself,” he added with a chuckle.
Tamara took the viewer from her and saw a woman, sitting in a parlor between a fireplace and a bookshelf, looking, as Billy had pointed out, at pictures through a viewer.
“Why, we are right there in the room with her,” Tamara said. “Yes, thank you Mrs. Saddler, I believe I would like some tea. I’ll just take a seat on this sofa, until your servant brings it to me.”
Billy laughed out loud.
Big Ben came into the library then. “Hello, ladies,” he greeted. “Hello, Billy.”
“Hello, Colonel,” Billy replied.
Conyers held up an envelope. “Look here, my dear. We got a letter from Dalton, today.”
“Oh, I hope the sheriff is all right,” Julia said. “Dalton’s last letter said that Tom had managed to get the bullet out. Has Sheriff Peabody taken a turn for the worse?”
“No, the sergeant major is doing quite well.”
Julia laughed. “He may have been your sergeant major, but he is a sheriff now, and he is Dalton’s boss.”
“So he is. Anyway, he was just letting us know that Tom and Becca are still in Audubon. Smoke and Sally too.”
“How far is Audubon from here?” Tamara asked. “Is there any chance they might come here?”
“I don’t know, but I doubt that they will,” Big Ben replied. “Remember, they stopped here on the way to Audubon.”
“Oh,” Tamara said, her response showing her obvious disappointment.
“You would like to see them again, wouldn’t you?” Julia asked.
“Yes, ma’am, I would,” Tamara said. “Oh, please don’t think me ungrateful about living here with you and Colonel Conyers,” she added quickly. “You have been wonderful, and there is no place I would rather be. But after Cutter MacMurtry killed my parents, Mr. Smoke and Miz Sally were so nice to me.”
“I understand perfectly,” Julia said. She smiled, and looked over at Ben. “Ben, I would like to see Dalton, Becca, and Tom. Why don’t we go up to Audubon for a visit? We can take Tamara with us.”
“Oh, can we?” Tamara asked, enthusiastically.
“I can’t get away from the ranch right now,” Ben replied. “But, I see no reason why the two of you couldn’t go.”
“Oh, can we?” Tamara asked.
“Yes, my dear, we can,” Julia said. “Tomorrow we’ll take the train to Weatherford then the stagecoach on up to Audubon.”
* * *
At the outlaw hideout, Hatchett MacMurtry was outside the cabin, sitting on the front porch with his legs hanging over the edge, when Slater walked up to him.
“When are you plannin’ on killin’ Jensen?” Slater asked.
“I ain’t in no rush,” MacMurtry said. “That’s why I didn’t get the job done last time I tried it. I’m goin’ to take my time ’til I can come up with a plan that will work.”
“I’ve got a suggestion” Slater said.
“What is that?”
“I think me ’n you should team up. Iffen we kill all three of ’em, why, that’d be a thousand dollars apiece. Then, with them three gone, there’s no way that one deputy that’s left will be able to stop us. That means we’ll also be able to hold up the bank, oncet the hunnert thousand dollars is there, so it’ll be even more money.”
“Yeah, but there ain’t really no need for us to be a-teamin’ up,” MacMurtry said. “You kill Pearlie ’n Cal, ’n I’ll kill Jensen, ’n that’ll be a thousand dollars apiece.”
“It would be easier if you help me kill them other two, Pearlie and Cal, ’n then I’ll help you kill Jensen.”
“No, I don’t want no help in killin’ Jensen, I want to kill ’im myself,” MacMurtry said. “And it ain’t just ’cause of the money Lanagan said he would pay for the killin’. Like I said, I’d be a-wantin’ to kill the son of a bitch whether I was goin’ to get paid for it or not. This here is personal.”
“Yeah, I know, ’cause he killed your brother,” Slater said. “All right, you kill Jensen, ’n I’ll kill them other two.”
“I’d just as soon me ’n you not go into town at the same time, on account of if I go in by myself, I won’t draw as much attention,” MacMurtry said.
“Yeah, all right. I wasn’t plannin’ on waitin’ around no more, nohow. I’m figurin’ on goin’ in tonight.”
“Leave Jensen for me,” MacMurtry said.
“I ain’t goin’ to exactly try ’n kill ’im, but if I see some chance to do it easy, well, I’m a-goin’ to do it,’ Slater replied.
MacMurtry chuckled. “I don’t have to worry none, then, ’cause you ain’t goin’ to see no way to kill ’im that’s easy.”
* * *
Tom and Becca Whitman were staying on the same floor in the Del Rey Hotel as were Smoke and Sally, and Pearlie and Cal. The restaurant that was adjacent to the Del Rey hotel was the Palace Café and that evening all but Cal and Dalton were sharing a table with Marjane Peabody. At the moment, Cal was making the rounds with Dalton.
“Hold two places open for Dalton and Cal,” Marjane told the waiter. “They’ll be joining us here before too long.”
“Yes, ma’am, Miss Marjane,” the waiter replied.
“I was so happy when you and Dr. Whitman came to Audubon,” Marjane said to Becca. “Dalton has spoken so lovingly of his sister, and I’ve been wanting to meet you, I just wish it could have been in happier circumstances.”
“It looks to me like your father is going to make a complete recovery,” Sally said, smiling at the young woman. “So how happy does the occasion have to be?”
Marjane laughed. “I suppose you do have a point.”
“You and Dalton seem to be getting along very well,” Becca said.
“Oh, yes!” Marjane’s response was very enthusiastic.
“Dalton is the most wonderful man. He’s smart, he is very nice to everyone, and my father just thinks the world of him. He says he is the finest deputy he has ever had.”
“I know that he feels the same about you and your father. I’m just glad that you are here for him.”
“I’ll always be here for him,” Marjane said, then she paused for a moment, and the expression on her face, and in her voice, grew pensive. “But I know he won’t always be here. After all, the Colonel is a big rancher, and Dalton is his only son. I know that Dalton plans to go back some day, and he really should. After all, he does have a responsibility to his father.”
“You can go with him,” Becca suggested. “After all, I left home to go with my husband,” she added, looking toward Tom who, at the moment, was engrossed in conversation with Smoke and Pearlie.”
“Yes, but he was your husband, after all. There is a difference, if you are going to leave with your husband.”
Becca smiled, and put her hand on Marjane’s shoulder. “Who
is to say that Dalton wouldn’t be your husband, when you leave?”
Sally chuckled. “Watching this is like déjà vu.”
“Déjà vu?” Marjane said. She shook her head in confusion. “I don’t know what that means.”
“It means that you feel like you have seen all this before. I recall a scene with Becca and Tom. You might even say it was the pivotal scene in their relationship.”
“Tell me about it,” Marjane said.
Sally looked toward Rebecca. “It’s a private scene, I’ll have to have Becca’s permission to share it with you. It is something that happened during the cattle drive down from Dodge City, when the Indians thought that the Angus cattle were buffalo.”
“Oh, I know what you are talking about,” Becca said. “It was when Tom went to see them, alone, to show that we weren’t taking buffalo from them.”
“Yes,” Sally said. “But what I am specifically talking about is what went on between you and Tom, just before he left.”
Becca smiled, and nodded. “I remember that as well. Yes, Aunt Sally, you can tell her.”
Sally told the story with such detail and intensity that it was as if Rebecca were actually reliving the moment, and Marjane, as Sally had done, was an actual witness.
“Tom?” Rebecca called.
“Rebecca, I’m going to see if I can pacify the Indians. You aren’t going to be able to talk me out of this,” Tom said.
“I know,” she said. “So I won’t even try.”
“Good.”
“Do you love me, Tom?”
“Rebecca, this hardly seems the time or place for us to discuss something like this.”
“I will ask you again, very slowly, and very distinctly. Do—you—love—me—Tom? It’s not a hard question.”
“Yes,” Tom said. “I do love you.”
“Oh!” Marjane said, when Sally finished the story. “Oh, how wonderful that was! Why, it is like reading the most wonderful tale of love.”
“What did you learn from it?” Sally asked.
Both Sally and Rebecca stared at the younger woman, waiting to see her response.
Marjane smiled.
“I learned that sometimes men need to be given a little push,” she said.
Rebecca opened her arms, pulling Marjane into an embrace. “I have a feeling that the time will come, and soon, when I’ll have a sister-in-law,” she said. “And I can’t think of anyone I would rather have.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Since MacMurtry didn’t particularly want to work as a team, and didn’t even want to go into town with him, Slater decided to go into town by himself. It was just coming on dusk as he rode into Audubon, and he saw the lamplighter at the top of his ladder at one of the lamp poles. Three of the ten city street lamps had already been lit.
Slater had come into town to kill Pearlie and Cal, but he had no idea who they were, and wouldn’t recognize them on sight. His best bet, he realized, would be to sort of stay quiet and just watch and listen.
Slater learned long ago that the best place to find out about anything that was going on in town, would be in a saloon. There were four saloons in town and it just so happened that Slater, as a result of his “visit” with the Dolans, had some money to spend. His first stop was at the Watering Hole Saloon. As the evening progressed, Slater moved from the Watering Hole, to the Ace High, and the Brown Dirt Cowboy. He had not heard anything helpful in any of them, so he headed toward the Blanket and Saddle Saloon. He had purposely saved this one for last, because it was the most popular, and it was here that he had gotten the information about Jensen.
* * *
As Slater was conducting his tour of the saloons, Dalton and Cal were making their rounds of the town.
“Mostly all you have to do is make a presence,” Dalton said. “If someone has it in mind that they are going to sneak into a store or a home to commit a burglary, seeing a lawman moving about might well discourage them. That’s because most burglars are cowards at heart. They don’t risk armed confrontations, they are sneak thieves.”
Cal had done this exact thing for Sheriff Carson on a few occasions, so he didn’t really need instruction from Dalton, but he let the young man go through his spiel anyway.
“Also,” Dalton said as he continued with his orientation, “check all the doors and make sure they’re locked, and take a look through the windows to see if there’s anyone in there who isn’t supposed to be.”
“What about a safety check?” Cal asked.
“Good question. A couple of weeks ago I saw a candle burning in the front of Fahlkoff’s clothing store. I figure Mr. Fahlkoff must have been looking for something, and forgot about the candle. It could have caused a fire.”
With the rounds having been made, Dalton smiled. “Now, here comes the best part. Our final stop is the Blanket and Saddle Saloon, and the best way to check it is to go inside, have a beer, and see who is there, and if any trouble is brewing.”
Dalton pushed through the batwing doors with Cal right behind him.
“Hello, Deputy,” the bartender said, greeting Dalton as he and Cal stepped up to the bar. “You must be through with your rounds, seein’ as this is always your last stop.”
“Hello, George. Yep, we’ve completed our rounds.”
“How are the new deputies working out for you?” George asked as, without being told, he drew two beers and set them in front of Dalton and Cal. “This is one of them, isn’t it?”
“Yes, though you might say that he is a temporary deputy,” Dalton replied. “You’ve probably already heard that my Uncle Kirby has come to town to help out while Sheriff Peabody is recovering. When he came, he brought two of his friends with him, Pearlie and Cal. This is Cal . . .” Dalton paused in midsentence and looked over at Cal, “You know what, Cal? As long as I’ve known you, I don’t think I’ve ever heard your last name.”
“It’s Wood, Calvin Wood, but I never use it,” Cal said. “I’m afraid that if I started using it, why, the next thing you know folks would be calling me Mister Wood, ’n that just wouldn’t set well with me.”
“Your uncle is a fella by the name of Kirby?” George asked.
“Actually, he isn’t really my uncle, he’s my half-sister’s uncle,” Dalton said.
“Hmm, I heard you had an uncle that came to help you out, but I was given to believe that it was a feller by the name of Smoke Jensen.”
Dalton laughed. “That’s him. His real name is Kirby Jensen, but everyone calls him Smoke.”
“So,” George said to Cal, “if you come to town with Smoke Jensen, then that means you’re one of the fellas that prevented the stagecoach robbery.”
“He sure is!” Dalton said, answering for Cal. “He, Smoke, and Pearlie stopped the stagecoach robbers in their tracks.”
George pushed the money Dalton had given him for the two beers back across the bar. “In that case your money is no good in here. Your beer is on the house.”
“Why, I thank you, sir,” Cal said, lifting his beer in salute.
“Ha!” one of the other patrons said. “Cal here, ’n them other two did more than stop ’em in their tracks. They’s six outlaws that’s all stretched out down at Ponder’s undertakin’ shop right now. It seems they bit off a mite more’n they could chew.”
“You got that right,” another said. He lifted his beer mug. “Here’s to you, Deputy Conyers, ’n to them three men you brought here to help keep the peace.”
“Hear, hear,” another patron added, and all in the saloon lifted their mugs.
* * *
There was a saloon patron standing midway down the bar from Dalton and Cal, and he did not join the others in lifting his mug in salute. Instead, Ed Slater was looking at Cal in the mirror. He wasn’t just looking at him, he was studying him. He knew he had never met this man before, and yet, as he continued to study him there was something familiar about him. The problem was, he just couldn’t quite place it.
Then he remembered.
As if reliving the moment, he saw himself stepping onto the train in Ft. Worth for the two-hour trip to Weatherford, a trip he didn’t complete by train. He remembered, now, that he had seen three men and a woman sitting together in that car, and this man, Cal, was one of the three men. And if there were three of them, and Cal was one of them, the other two had to be Smoke Jensen and the one called Pearlie.
Slater had not gotten a good look at the man who threw him off the train, but he was certain that it was either this man or one of the other two who had been with him. There were only two other men in that car, and both of those men had long white beards. The man who had tossed him from the train was clean-shaven.
Was it this man?
Slater studied him as closely as he could in the mirror, but he simply had not gotten a good enough look at the man who tossed him to know if this was the one who did it.
The truth is, at this point it didn’t matter whether Cal was the one who threw him off or not. It had to be one of the three, and as far as Slater was concerned, it wouldn’t make any difference to him, whether he killed the man who had actually thrown him off, or his friend. He would derive just as much personal satisfaction from it, no matter who it was.
Son of a bitch! He thought. The man who threw him off the train had to be one of the three that Lanagan wanted killed! That meant that there would be more than personal satisfaction involved in killing him, it also meant that Lanagan would pay five hundred dollars to whoever killed him.
And right now it looked as if he was the one best situated to collect the money.
What if Cal recognized him? Slater could remember making such a thing with the young woman that all the others in the car, including Cal, must have seen him.
He turned so that he was presenting three quarters of his back to Cal, enough to avoid being seen, but not so much as to make it obvious.
* * *
“Would you gentlemen like something from the kitchen?” George asked Dalton and Cal. “Like the beer, for you two, the food will be on the house.”