Black Ransom (16 page)

Ward took the clothing from the pack roll and went off into the bush to change. He folded his prison wear into a tight bundle and buried it deep within the thick foliage. When he walked back out, he was wearing a black flannel shirt and brown trousers, along with a pair of old loose-fitting boots, which he just barely managed to slide over the leg cuffs—and brandishing the six-shooter that also had been included in the package, courtesy of his friends. He set himself against a tree and looked relaxed as he indulged himself to some comfort and soaked in the abundance of nature surrounding him.

“Never realized how different the morning air feels,” he said contentedly. “Or how it tastes. You ever taste the air, Burrows? Don't taste quite the same when you're sweatin' in it all day.”

Ehron Lee walked over to the horse and gently led it away from the stream. The animal was thirsty after its long ride, and Ehron Lee didn't want it to drink too much too quick.

“Hungry?” Ehron Lee asked. “Et most of the grub on the trail with the others, but got some jerked beef in the saddlebag.”

“It'll do. Et the so-called breakfast,” Ward said with a cynical intonation.

Ward checked over his gun. He opened the cylinder and saw that all six chambers had been cartridge fed.

“Reckon Jess and Randy are on their way back to the ranch,” he said, snapping the cylinder closed. “Well, we'll be seein' 'em soon.”

Ehron Lee whipped Ward a questioning look.

“Sure,” Ward drawled, amused at his companion's expression. “Where d'yuh think we're headed?”

Ehron Lee stepped over to Ward and sat next to him on the grass. Ward grinned, though he kept his focus on the distant mountain crests.

“You been there, Burrows,” he said. “It's a perfect hideout. Couldn't find no better place. 'Sides, don't hurt to have some extra hands for what we're plannin'.”

“That include Cora?” Ehron Lee asked subtly.

Ward's expression hardly altered at the mention of her name.

“Cora,” Ward said dryly. “Hell, ain't thought 'bout her for a long time. So she
is
still with the boys, huh?”

Ehron Lee nodded. “You know she was, Ward. Yuh said someone would be waitin' at the cabin, and I reckon you was meanin' her.”

“Yeah, guess I was,” Ward said with a self-conscious grin.

“She kinda shamed the others into givin' us some cash,” Ehron Lee added. “'Bout six hundred dollars.”

“She's a right handy gal,” Ward said. He pondered. “Could be useful, too.”

“Reckon she could be,” Ehron Lee agreed. Then he jerked his head toward the quarter horse.

“And just so's you should be knowin', that's Cora's pony we're ridin',” he said further.

“Well, I'm mighty obliged to her for the loan of her mule,” Ward said.

Ehron Lee squinted. “Ain't hardly a mule.”

Ward didn't reply. Ehron Lee shrugged, accepting Ward's term as just one of the man's peculiarities.

Ehron Lee plucked a long string of grass and slid it between his teeth.

He said, “Y'know, in all the time that we was together, you never said nothin' 'bout yuh havin' a girl.”

“Didn't I?” Ward exclaimed with mock surprise.

Ehron Lee saw through his feigned ignorance.

Ward smirked and eyed his companion sideways. “Reason for that. Never considered Cora my girl.”

“From what I gathered, ain't quite the way she saw it.”

“Get to know her some, amigo?” Ward asked leisurely, without any real interest.

“Some,” Ehron Lee replied, just as casually.

“I ain't sayin' we didn't have some good times together,” Ward said, straightening his posture against the tree. “But it never went no further than that. Hell, with the kinda life I been leadin', I wasn't gonna burden no woman . . . that is, if I was ever gonna let myself get tempted. Which I wouldn't.”

“Seems to me she woulda stuck by yuh no matter what,” Ehron Lee commented, a tinge of repressed hurt evident in his words.

Ward detected the slight change in inflection in his companion, and understood. He shifted the topic.

“We'll rest up for another hour or so,” he said, pulling back his arms and stretching, displaying solid muscle under the tight fabric of the shirt. “There's s'posed to be a hill trail into Allensfield. No need to rush. Best if we ride into town come nightfall.”

“Think it's safe to head there so soon?” Ehron Lee asked with some doubt.

“'Less I'm missin' my guess, last place they'll look for us, Burrows,” Ward said with assurance. “Once they get enough men together, they'll start by combin' these hills. Wouldn't think us fools 'nuff to go ridin' into town. 'Sides, I gotta get these damn irons offa my legs . . .” He winked. “And we both got us some business in Allensfield.”

Ehron Lee looked at him.

“We gotta act fast,” Ward told him. “Can't overstay. We stick to carryin' through with our plan, we grab Watson's wife tonight.”

TWELVE

EHRON LEE AND
Ward proceeded toward Allensfield after darkness had descended upon the town. Once they neared the town limits, Ward dismounted and walked alongside Ehron Lee as he slowly rode the horse forward. Maintaining caution, they chose to avoid the main street and instead traveled along the dust through the back routes. Allensfield was a small town and quiet at this hour. It prided itself on being a Christian community and didn't offer a saloon or other forms of “entertainment”—anyone so inclined would have to travel about seven miles west to the somewhat rowdier town of Jasper. And many of the churchgoing, God-fearing folks of Allensfield did just that—often.

“Know this town. Fulla Bible thumpers, righteous hypocrites,” Ward remarked disdainfully.

“No different from other places I been,” Ehron Lee muttered in agreement.

A drink would have gone down good for both men, but there wasn't time as they had other priorities.

“Got a lawman in town, so we best keep on guard,” Ward advised as they moved through the shadows of the alley toward the locksmith shop. “Likely he's joined the hunt, but yuh can't never be too careful.”

The locksmith was an elderly widower who also lived on the premises, setting up cooking and sleeping arrangements in the back of his shop. The establishment was closed and so Ward banged on the rear door, which was the entrance to the man's living quarters, while Ehron Lee stood watch for any passersby.

When the old man finally opened the door, he found himself staring into the barrel of a gun.

“Open up, pops,” Ward said to him, grinning.

The old man hastily obliged. Ward and Ehron Lee pushed their way inside and followed him into the kitchen, where he had been preparing a pot of stew for his supper.

“Anyone else here?” Ward asked brusquely.

The proprietor could scarcely get out a nervous “No.”

“Fine,” Ward said. He turned to Ehron Lee. “Keep him covered while he works his magic.”

Ward placed his own gun into his holster then removed his boots and rolled up the legs of his trousers, revealing the iron cuffed around both ankles.

“You got exactly five minutes to get 'em off,” he instructed.

“F-Five?” the old man stammered. “D-Don't know if—”

“I'll be countin',” Ward told him steadily. Just to make sure his point was not misinterpreted, he swiveled toward Ehron Lee and said with an almost indifferent attitude, “Yeah, don't think I killed a man since noontime.”

Removing the cuffs took a bit longer than the allotted time, owing to the locksmith's unsteady hands. Ward, still covered by Ehron Lee, then tied and gagged the old man and locked him inside a closet in the main room. Ward figured that should keep him until morning, by which time they'd be far from town.

Before leaving, Ward spotted a large knife sitting on the counter. He wore an enigmatic smile as he grabbed the knife to take with him.

“What's that for?” Ehron Lee asked.

“You got the note?” Ward said.

“Both of 'em,” Ehron Lee replied with a nod of his head. “Had 'em in my pocket for over a week.”

Ward hefted the knife, admiring the blade. “Well, this is just a little somethin' extra. To show Watson we mean business.”

Ward also lifted a kerosene lantern from the table. “Better take this along, as well, so's we can see where we're goin' in this godawful dark.”

The men quietly stepped out the rear door, back into almost pitch blackness.

“Gotta get me a horse,” Ward said in a whisper to his partner. “And gotta do it quietly. Can't afford to start up no ruckus.”

“Good chance we'll find one at the superintendent's house,” Ehron Lee said, speaking hushed as well. “His missus always rides out in a buggy.”

A slow smile crept across Ward's lips as he gave an approving nod. “Yeah, that's right.”

Ehron Lee remembered the directions he had been given by the Allensfield tailor after he'd first come to town following his release from Rockmound, when he'd inquired about Superintendent George Watson. That would be their next stop . . . and the first part of their plan.

Ward climbed up behind Ehron Lee on the horse, and once again they used the back routes as much as possible to get to the house, which, fortunately for them, was on the outskirts of town.

The two-story wood-framed house equipped with a wide front patio stood alone on a small, fenced-in plot of land about a quarter mile from the main road leading into Allensfield. The house would have been difficult to find but for a light coming from one of the upstairs front windows.

“The missus must be gettin' ready for bed,” Ward said. “Shame we have to disturb her.”

“Any chance Watson might be home?” Ehron Lee said.

Although Ward kept it to himself, his initial thought, spurred on by Ehron Lee's question, was a vision of Watson being the one to answer that door. Ward could then enjoy the opportunity to release every ounce of hatred and hostility he'd chewed up and digested during his years at Rockmound with one swift plunge of the blade of his knife into the sonofabitch's gut. But
no
, he determined, it wouldn't stop there. That blade had a lot of tearing to do . . . and would go on with its work long after Watson was dead.

The answer that Ward gave Ehron Lee, however, was less violent, more to the point.

“Wouldn't be pleasant for him if'n he was,” he replied. “But doubtful that he is. He's gotta deal with what happened at the prison today. That's why we gotta get this done quick tonight. Never get a better opportunity.”

There was an open path next to the fenced enclosure that led to a small barn in back, which the men assumed housed the horse and buggy the superintendent's wife used for her trips to the prison.

“Whyn't you ready the horse, Burrows,” Ward suggested. “I'll tend to the missus. And hand me one of them notes you wrote.”

After Ehron Lee passed him the paper, he went toward the barn, keeping the lantern upraised to guide him through the dark. Ward made his way up the walkway to the front porch of the house. He walked up the steps slowly, quietly, preparing himself for what he was going to say. He knew the words, just had to present them convincingly.

He knocked on the door, scuffed his boot heel against the hardwood, and waited.

After several minutes he heard hurried footsteps approaching from within. Then the door opened a crack, and Ward finally saw close up the face that for many years he had only seen from afar and in a photograph in the superintendent's office. The funny thing was the woman looked older than Ward imagined she had to be. But there was no question that she was a lady prim and respectable.

He spoke to her in a kindly voice. “Mrs. Watson?”

“Yes,” the woman, Janette Watson, said uncertainly. She responded to this caller from behind the door.

“Mrs. Watson, I apologize for the lateness. My name's Runyon, Joe Runyon. I was sent out from Rockmound by your husband,” Ward went on, delivering his words with as much sincerity as he could fake. “There was some trouble at the prison today.”

“Trouble? W-What sort of trouble?” Janette Watson said, anxiety starting to creep into her voice. She obviously hadn't heard about the breakout that morning, which was to their advantage.

“Well, your husband asked me to send for you, ma'am,” Ward said, bowing his head. “There was an escape today. Don't want to frighten you, but Superintendent Watson is a-feared these prisoners that broke out might be somewhere in this vicinity. Might even . . . well, might even be headed your way. They're a right mean bunch and . . . Anyways, he'd like it if you could be with him 'til these men are apprehended.”

Janette looked only momentarily doubtful.

“You say you're from Rockmound?”

“Yes, ma'am. Started there only recently. Do some relief work for the guards. Just came in to start my shift when your husband asked me to ride out and fetch yuh. He was quite insistent.”

Janette stood quietly, studying the stranger's features from behind the protection of the partially opened door, trying to determine if she could trust what he was saying.

Ward spoke up. “Just followin' the superintendent's orders.”

She hesitated briefly but soon her expression shifted into one of acceptance. She was concerned and Ward had convinced her. She opened the door all the way and told him to come and wait inside while she went upstairs to get dressed, as she had been preparing for bed and was clad in her night robe.

When she came back downstairs, now attired in a patterned pale blue housedress and wool sweater, and walked with Ward to the open door, she noticed Ehron Lee out front on the pathway—sitting on her horse. This puzzled the woman and she turned to face Ward.

But before she could utter a word, she froze. All the sincerity was gone from the face of the man who called himself “Joe Runyon.” In its place was a cold, dreadful mask, the thin lips widened into a malevolent grin. The face of Ward Crawford—prison escapee, vengeful outlaw.

Janette Watson felt her legs weaken as she stared at the gun he had drawn on her.

Her voice faltered. “W-What do you want?”

“Just step outside, Mrs. Watson,” Ward told her smoothly. “Don't wanta have to hurt you, so you'd do best to stay quiet and cooperate.”

Janette had no choice but to obey. Followed by Ward, she walked out onto the porch, her steps measured and tentative. Ehron Lee was silent but gestured for her to climb up behind him on the horse.

Ward closed the door behind them. Then he pulled out the folded paper from his trousers pocket and added his personal touch: withdrawing the knife he had taken from the Allensfield locksmith and thrusting the sharp-edged blade through the note, pinning it solidly into the door.

Janette spun around abruptly at hearing the blunt impact.

Ward responded to her apprehension with a cold, chilling smile and urged her forward toward Ehron Lee. Then he mounted the other horse.

Turning to his companion, Ward said, “Simple as pie, huh? When it comes to their man, women is so trustin'.”