Authors: William W. Johnstone

Blood Valley (5 page)

BOOK: Blood Valley

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“You be careful, Cotton,” an older cowboy told me. “That kid's bricks ain't stacked jist right.”

“I know you?” I looked him up and down.

“I know you. I was ridin' for the Twisted River brand down on the Big Sandy when you braced them rustlers that nightâ'member?”

“Oh, yeah!” Rusty was all ears, leanin' close. “They run off part of that herd we was pushin' north and stole one of my horses. Sure.”

“What happened?” the barkeep asked.

“We planted the two rustlers that braced Cotton,” the cowboy said quietly.

I noticed a puncher leavin' out just then, turnin' in the direction of the Wolf's Den. But then, maybe he was just headin' for the privy.

The older puncher said, “He's a sneak and a snitch for Big Mike. Thinks we don't know it.”

I chuckled. “Good way to feed wrong information.”

The puncher just grinned.

Me and Rusty could both feel the hostility when we pushed open the batwings and stepped into the Wolf's Den.

Place got real quiet. Big Mike Romain was standin' belly up to the bar, nursin' a beer. Johnny Bull was on his right and Little Jack Bagwell to his left. Man enjoyed some fine company, to be sure.

Rusty stood at the end of the bar closest to the door while I ambled around the place. I met every eye that would meet mine. And I was thinkin' that to my knowledge, this many top gunslicks had never been gathered in one place at the same time.

Other than a cemetery.

And neither of them thoughts was real comfortin', to my way of thinkin'.

I nodded at the gunfighters that I knew personal well. They returned the unsmilin' nod and that was the extent of our happy fellowship.

I'll admit, I was some relieved to be out of that place and walkin' up toward the schoolhouse.

Rusty must have read my mind. “You got anyone in mind for additional deputies, Sheriff?”

“I don't know no one to even mull over. You got any ideas?”

“Matter of fact, I do. 'Member I tole you about them two punchers I rode with, Burtell and De Graff?”

“Yeah.”

“They're livin' in an old line shack north of town. They're good boys, both of 'em.”

“Tell me why they got fired.”

“They didn't. They quit. They didn't like what was happenin'. Big Mike said he was gonna run 'em both out of the county. That was tried a couple of times, but they're still here.”

“Gunhands?”

“No. Just punchers. They pro'bly better than average with a short gun, but they ain't real fast. They will make their first shot count, though.”

“Hell, that's half the fight. Some of the fastest guns I ever seen usually put their first shot in the dirt. You ride out in the mornin', fetch them boys into town. Lemme talk to them.”

At the schoolyard, it was all lantern-lit, the lanterns hung from ropes, with fancy streamers a-danglin' ever' which-a-way. The adults were sippin' punch and the kids was playin' and runnin' around and havin' fun. The boys was pullin' the girls' pigtails and the girls was pretendin' they was all upset about it.

And it made me kinda sad. This type of gatherin' sometimes does that to me. Here I was, twenty-eight years old, I think, give or take a year, and I'd never had nothin' much to speak of. I'd been driftin' for a good many years. Oh, I'd seen the country, all of it west of the Big Muddy, but the feelin' of belongin' to someone . . . that was something I'd never known. Don't get me wrong; I love the high lonesome. I like the smell of a wood fire and the cool mornings and the feelin' that there ain't another human person within a hundred miles of you.

But . . . well, you can't think about that too much or too often. Tends to get a body down.

These folks now, all happy and gay, they had that feelin' of belongin'. And it showed. Oh, many of them didn't have all that much, cash-wise, but they had somebody.

Well, hell! You know what I mean.

And then I seen Pepper. That brightened me up real quick . . . in one way. And yet, in another, it produced a feelin' that I never recollected havin' before. Kind of a warm, gooey sort of feelin'.

I shuddered like a big shaggy buffalo and walked around the yard. Rich gal like Pepper Baker wasn't gonna have nothin' to do with a two-bit cowboy turned sheriff like me.

But she did send me that note.

There was three guys with a fiddle and guitar and squeeze box, and they cranked it up for dancin' . That left me out in the hog-waller, 'cause when it comes to fancy footwork with a female, I got two left feet. So I just stood around lookin' like a lonesome hound dog while Pepper danced every dance. And I couldn't help but wonder how Big Mike felt about that . . . him havin' her all staked out, at least in his mind.

Pepper took a break from her dancin', leavin' a lot of disappointed men standin' around lookin' glum. Damned if she didn't walk straight up to me. I took off my hat when she come up.

“Put your hat back on, Sheriff. You might catch a chill out here.”

She stood lookin' at me with them blue eyes, and that syrupy feelin' sort of oozed over me again. I really didn't know what to make of it. Least that's what I kept tellin' myself.

“Enjoyin' yourself, Miss Pepper?” I managed to ask. Least I hadn't tripped over my feet yet again.

“I'd enjoy it more if I knew why you haven't ask me to dance.”

“I never learnt how! You get me out there on that flat and you'd have sore feet for a month.”

“Well, at least you're honest about it. I better warn you, Sheriff . . . what is your name? I'm not going to call you Sheriff forever.”

“Cotton.”

“Just . . . Cotton?”

“Just Cotton.”

She smiled, a mischievous look creeping into her eyes. “You wanted by the law, Cotton?”

“Oh, no, ma'am!”

“Well, if I leaned rreeaall close,” she said softly, “would you whisper it in my ear?”

With a sigh, I agreed.

She leaned close, Rreeaall close. I could smell the flowery perfume she was wearing and the clean scent of her hair. I whispered in her ear.

I knew what she was gonna do. Ever'body does the same thing.

She started gigglin'. Really had to struggle to keep from bustin' out laughin' and drawin' a lot of attention to us. She put her little hand on my arm and kind of guided me along, out of the lamplight. I got a little edgy about that.

“That really your last name, Cotton?”

“Sure is.”

“But Cotton is not your real first name? Surely not!”

“Yes, ma'am, it sure is. My daddy had a funny sense of humor.”

We stopped under a tree. The lights and the whoopin' and hollerin' kids and the music and the gaiety seemed to be far away. It was kind of a nice feelin'.

She leaned against the trunk of the tree and fanned herself with a little hanky. “I declare,” she whispered. “I do believe I've gotten too warm dancing.”

I was gettin' a little warm myself.

I got a hell of a lot warmer when she undone the top three buttons of her dress and fanned her pale skin with that little hanky. It was just a damn good thing I didn't have no chaw of tobacco in my mouth. I'd have swallowed it for sure.

I looked in ever' direction there was except the . . . upper part of her. “You, ah, was gonna warn me about something, Miss Pepper?”

She laughed softly. “So you can be trusted, too, Sheriff,” she said. Kind of a strange thing to say, I thought. “Mike Romain would have had me raped by now.” She buttoned herself back up. “Forgive me?”

“Sure. I, ah, kind of enjoyed it, tell you the truth.”

“That's good. I was beginning to think that you were made of stone.”

“Far from it, ma'am.”

“Would you please stop calling me ma'am!”

“Yes, ma'am.”

She laughed and took my arm. “Come on, let's walk back. Tongues are wagging now. Cotton, I . . . may have set you up for trouble. If so, I'm sorry. I simply cannot abide sharing my box with that Mike Romain another time.”

There was two ways to take that, but since I figured her for a nice lady, I elected for the fried-chicken side of it.

“Big Mike has made up his mind that I'm the woman for him. No one else will bid against him.”

“Why?”

“They're afraid of him. He's crazy.”

“I didn't figure his wagon was loaded full. And you want me to bid agin' him, right?”

“Yes.” I could feel her eyes on me in the darkness. “For more than one reason, Cotton.”

I could see my ranch fadin' away into the distance, 'cause if it took all that was in that hat, I was gonna have a taste of Pepper's box. “I'll go as high as the traffic will bear, Pepper.”

Her eyes had kind of a frightened look in them. “No one has ever gone over ten dollars.”

“I got a hunch this one will.”

She reached into a pocket of her dress, a real pretty gingham dress; not fancy like the gowns on Joy and Wanda. She reached down and took my hand, pressing something into it.

Several double eagles.

“Now, ma'am . . . !”

“No,” she said, a final tone in her voice. She gave her pretty head a toss. “If you're brave enough to bid against Big Mike, on my behalf, the least I can do is pay for it. Don't worry, my mother came from a very wealthy family back east. Old money. And I have money of my own. Besides, we're doing this with Father's permission and blessing.”

“Figurin' anybody else might get stomped or killed, but Big Mike should have more sense than to brace the sheriff?”

“You're quick, Cotton.”

I wasn't really sure what she meant by “old money.” I guessed that meant she was rich.

All kinds of suspicions jumped into my head.

She looked up at me in the dim light from the lanterns. “You don't trust me, do you?”

Before I could reply, and if I had done it, I'd a probably stuck my foot in my mouth, she said, “You're different, Cotton.” She smiled. “And kind of cute, too, in a range-rough way. And you're not afraid of Big Mike, or . . . anyone, so it seems. Cotton, you're either a very brave man, or a fool. Time will tell where that takes the both of us. Now please walk me back. The bidding will start in a few minutes.”

Big Mike and some of his boys was all lumped up together, and they give me some hard looks when they spotted me and Pepper. I just smiled at them all and tipped my hat to Big Mike.

That made him so mad he looked like he was fixin' to swell up and explode.

The little band had stopped playin' and some fellow that I didn't know stepped up on the raised platform and announced that the biddin' was about to get underway, and it was all for a good cause and all that.

I was very conscious of Big Mike's eyes on me as the biddin' got underway. Pepper had joined up with her pa and ma and brother. I didn't know where Rusty had gotten hisself off to, but I figured he was close by.

Like most of these socials I'd been to, and that wasn't all that many, all the gents pretty well knew in advance how to identify what box they wanted to bid on, and it was almighty easy to tell who was sweet on who.

I'd spotted Pepper's box right off, and it was comin' up next.

I let Big Mike open the biddin' with a two-dollar call. Then I upped the ante to five.

He looked at me, and the expression on his face was anything but nice to look at.

Big Mike went to ten and I went to fifteen. Rusty come up beside me and said, “Pepper's daddy tole me to stand by with these in case you needed them.” He shook his fist and I heard some coins rattle.

“I can't figure this, Rusty.”

“I can. You're an honorable man. You ain't got no sense, but I reckon Pepper can't see that.” He grinned hugely.

“Fifty dollars!” Big Mike squalled.

“Sixty.” Man, that crowd was some kind of dead quiet.

I chanced a look down and Rusty opened his fist. Close to a hundred dollars in coin.

I shook my head.

“Seventy-five!” Big Mike yelled, anger plain in his voice.

I looked at him. Even across the yard I could tell his face was flushed.

BOOK: Blood Valley

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