Bullets Don't Die (15 page)
Authors: J. A. Johnstone
Chapter 24
Herb Tuttle had been right about the other members of the gang being upset because Cantrell called off the train robbery in Abilene at the last minute, but there were enough old-timers in the group still loyal to him to offset the young firebrands who might have said the gang needed a new leader.
Cantrell had pushed them hard, not wanting Tate and Morgan to get past him. He would trail Tate all the way to Wichita to get his revenge if he had to, but it would be easier if the gang didn’t have to venture into the city.
They had skirted around the smaller settlements on their way south, but supplies were running low and Cantrell knew he ought to send a couple men into the next town they came to. As the riders, almost two dozen strong, approached the place called Chalk Butte, Cantrell signaled a halt and waved Tuttle up alongside him.
“Take one of the men and ride into town, Herb. The rest of us will swing west around that butte and wait on the far side of it.”
“What is it you want me to do?” Tuttle asked. “Pick up some provisions? I know we’re runnin’ a little low.”
“That’s right.” Cantrell gave him some money. “Get enough to last us several days.”
Tuttle frowned slightly. “The storekeeper’s liable to wonder why two men are buyin’ so many supplies.”
“Let him wonder,” Cantrell snapped. “When you put cash on the barrelhead, he’s not going to care too much.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right about that,” Tuttle said with a chuckle. “Never saw a storekeeper yet who cared about much of anything except makin’ money.”
Tuttle picked the outlaw named Rowden to go with him. They split off from the other men and rode toward the settlement while Cantrell led the rest of the gang toward the butte.
As they jogged along on their horses, Rowden said, “A lot of the boys still ain’t happy about this wild goose chase, Herb. I thought this would be a good chance to say something about that to you, since you and Cantrell are close. Maybe you can talk some sense into his head. We didn’t sign on to settle no personal grudge.”
Tuttle looked over at the other man and asked coolly, “Are you done?”
“Well . . . yeah, I reckon so.”
“Then let me tell you something. You’re one of the fellas who never rode with Brick before, so you don’t really know what you’re talkin’ about. He led the gang for several years, and he never steered us wrong.”
Rowden looked like he didn’t want to argue, but he said, “Then how come Cantrell wound up in prison and the rest of the gang got busted up?”
“That was just pure bad luck,” Tuttle snapped. “Bad luck, and that damned Marshal Tate bein’ more stubborn than any lawman had a right to be. Most star packers would’ve given up before they chased us down like that. I don’t blame Brick for hatin’ Tate and wantin’ to settle the score with him. Once that’s done, you’ll see what sort of gang this really is.”
“Well, if you say so, Herb. But I hope it don’t take too long to find this Tate. If it does, some of the boys might start thinkin’ they ought to go off on their own.”
“They’d be sorry if they ever did,” Tuttle said.
They left it at that, because they were getting close to the settlement. Chalk Butte wasn’t a very big town, but it was big enough to have a general store where they could buy the supplies they needed.
A few minutes later they reined to a halt in front of the mercantile and swung down from their saddles. Tuttle led the way as they went up the steps to the porch and then inside the building.
Because he was in front, he saw the girl first, and she was stunning enough to make him stop short. She was dressed like a man in high boots, whipcord trousers, and a buckskin shirt, but there was no doubt she was female. The curves displayed by the outfit were ample proof of that.
Rowden bumped into Tuttle’s back. “What the hell? Why you stop so sudden, Herb?”
Tuttle moved aside slightly so Rowden could see past him. That was all it took to answer the question.
The young woman was standing at the counter talking to the storekeeper. She glanced over her shoulder at the newcomers, but didn’t really pay any attention to them. It was enough for Tuttle to get a glimpse of her face past the thick, curly black hair. She was every bit as pretty as he expected her to be.
“Good Lord!” Rowden muttered. “I haven’t seen a girl who looks like that in, well, maybe ever!”
“Yeah, I know,” Tuttle said as he got control of his own reaction to the girl’s beauty. “But we’re here to buy supplies, not to go courtin’, so just forget about her.”
“Hell, what harm would it do just to talk to her a little?”
“If you were older, you’d understand. Don’t let yourself get distracted from the job you’re supposed to do, no matter how good-lookin’ the distraction might be. Come on, and keep your mouth shut. You let me do the talkin’.”
Rowden muttered some more, but didn’t say anything loud enough for Tuttle to understand him as they walked along the store’s center aisle toward the counter at the back.
The young woman moved aside when they got there so they could talk to the proprietor. She must have been shooting the breeze with the man and not buying anything, Tuttle thought.
The middle-aged storekeeper put his hands flat on the counter and asked, “Something I can do for you fellas?”
“Yeah, we need some supplies.” Tuttle started naming off the items and the amount he wanted to buy.
The storekeeper frowned. “That’s a lot of provisions for two men.”
“We’re travelin’ with a few pards who didn’t come into town,” Tuttle explained. “And we don’t like to stop for supplies that often.”
The storekeeper shrugged. “None of my business. You want these things crated or bagged?”
“Better bag ’em,” Tuttle said. “We don’t have a wagon, so we’ll have to pack ’em on our horses.”
“All right. Shouldn’t take me long to gather up what you need.”
“You’re not very busy today,” Tuttle commented. He and Rowden were the only customers in the store.
“It’s a slack time,” the proprietor said with a shrug. “Tomorrow’s Saturday. I’ll be doing a booming business all day.”
Tuttle nodded. Tomorrow at the end of the day would be the best time to rob the store, he thought, since the place would have taken in a lot of cash during the day. Of course, it was just habit that he considered such things, since he and the others would be long gone by then. Once a thief, always a thief, he supposed.
He suddenly became aware that Rowden wasn’t standing at his elbow anymore. Looking around in alarm, he saw the younger outlaw sidling up to the woman, who was looking at a display of dresses.
“Damn it, Rowden,” Tuttle said under his breath. “Why can’t you just listen—”
“Howdy,” Rowden said to the young woman. “One of those dresses would look mighty nice on you, ma’am.”
She turned her head to look at him and asked coolly, “Do I know you?”
Rowden took his hat off and shook his head. “No, ma’am, I’m just passin’ through here, but I have sort of a rule in my life that says never pass up the chance to get to know a beautiful woman, because you never know when you’ll run into another one.”
Tuttle came up behind him as Rowden was spouting that stuff. “Rowden, come on. Leave the lady alone.”
“He’s not bothering me,” the young woman said with a trace of amusement in her voice. “That would take more than some smooth-talking saddle tramp.”
Rowden’s forehead creased in a frown. “Now wait just a minute. I’m not exactly a saddle tramp, and I don’t like bein’ made sport of.”
“Then you should be more careful who you try to flirt with,” the young woman said.
Tuttle took hold of Rowden’s arm. “Come on.” He tried to tug Rowden back toward the counter.
“Damn it, Herb!” Rowden pulled away, violently enough so his arm swung around . . .
And hit the young woman across the face, knocking her right into the dress display.
“Son of a—Look what you did!” Tuttle exclaimed as the young woman caught her balance and righted herself.
“Ma’am, I’m sorry. I never meant to—” Rowden’s hurried apology stopped short as he stared at the young woman. She had turned toward them and dropped her hand to the butt of the revolver holstered at her hip. A deputy’s badge gleamed where it was pinned to the soft buckskin shirt.
“She’s the law!” Rowden said, and as Tuttle watched in horror, instinct sent the young outlaw’s hand flashing toward his gun.
The Kid, Jared Tate, and Marshal Porter were walking casually along the street when Porter nodded toward the two men who had just dismounted in front of the general store. “Strangers. Wonder if they’re just passing through.”
“You try to keep up with all the strangers who come into your town, Marshal?” The Kid asked.
Instead of letting Porter answer for himself, Tate said, “Of course he does. That’s part of a lawman’s job. Am I right, Marshal?”
“You are correct, Marshal,” Porter replied with a grin.
“Those two had the look of hardcases about them, too,” Tate went on.
“I was thinking the same thing,” Porter agreed. “Maybe we’ll mosey in that direction and have a talk with them.”
Tate nodded. “An excellent idea.”
It seemed more like an overreaction to The Kid. But he wasn’t a lawman, he reminded himself. Anyway, Tate seemed a little more animated than usual by the prospect, so he supposed it wouldn’t hurt anything.
Porter didn’t get in any hurry to reach the store, stopping to pass the time of day with several citizens along the way. The Kid half expected to see the two men come back out and go on about their business before he and Porter and Tate got there.
They hadn’t emerged from the store as The Kid and the two lawmen approached the door, however. Porter went in first, followed by Tate, and then The Kid bringing up the rear.
The Kid heard what sounded like angry voices, then somebody yelled, “She’s the law!”
Porter shouted, “Holly!” and lunged forward, clawing at the gun on his hip.
The Kid surged ahead and shouldered Tate out of the line of fire as he palmed out his Colt.
Holly was confronting the two strangers. The younger one had his gun out.
She struck with blinding speed, grabbing the wrist of the stranger’s gun hand and thrusting it upward. The gun roared, but the bullet went harmlessly into the ceiling, scattering plaster.
At the same time, the edge of Holly’s other hand slashed across the man’s throat. He staggered back a step, gasping for breath.
Before he could do anything else, Porter stepped in and slammed the barrel of his gun across the man’s head, dropping him senseless to the floor.
The troublemaker’s older companion had his hand on the butt of his gun, but he froze with it there as The Kid covered him and said quietly, “I wouldn’t do that, mister.”
Carefully, the man took his hand away from his gun and raised it along with his other hand. “Take it easy, friend. We’re not lookin’ for trouble.”
“You’ve got a funny way of doing it,” Porter snapped, “trying to take a shot at my deputy . . . and my daughter!”
“We didn’t know. Look, this is all just a misunderstanding. My friend here . . . well, I’ll admit he was flirtin’ the lady, but he didn’t mean any harm. It was just some harmless joshin’.”
“He hit me!” Holly had drawn her gun as well.
“That was an accident,” the older stranger said. “I had hold of my pard and was tryin’ to steer him away, and when he pulled loose he sort of bumped the lady.” He looked around at the proprietor of the store. “Tell them, mister. You saw the whole thing. You know it was just an accident.”
“It didn’t look like he did it on purpose, Marshal,” the storekeeper said. “I’ll admit that much. And before that these two gents hadn’t caused any problems.”
Holly asked sharply, “Why did he try to draw on me when he saw my badge?”
The older man sighed and shook his head. “I’ll admit, we’ve had our share of run-ins with the law. Reckon he just acted without thinking. But we’re not wanted, I swear, and we just needed to pick up some supplies and be on our way.”
Porter looked at the storekeeper. “How about that, Norman?”
“They were buying supplies, all right. A pretty good lot of them.”
Porter thought about it for a moment and then holstered his gun. He said to the older man, “You think you can get him on his feet and get him out of here once you’ve got your provisions?”
“I’m sure I can, Marshal,” the man replied.
“All right. We’ll let this go, then, providing both of you get out of town and don’t show your faces here again.” Porter glanced at Holly. “If that’s all right with you. You’re the one who got hit.”
“It didn’t amount to anything,” she said with a shrug. “I’ve had horses bump into me a lot harder. Sure, let ’em go.”
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