Cotton's Devil (9781101618523) (14 page)

C
otton patted the mound of dirt over the final grave. He wiped sweat from his forehead on the sleeve of his shirt. Jimmy blew out the breath he'd been trying to hold as long as possible as he removed his hat and sank to the ground.

“I hope to never have to do that again, Sheriff. Buryin' folks must take a strong constitution,” Jimmy said, “and I ain't got one.”

Cotton said nothing as he leaned his shovel against the barn and walked slowly to the house. He knew he would be faced with a struggle to get Mrs. Hardin to leave the place she'd called home for years. The couple had no children, only each other. And while they had sniped back and forth on occasion, it was clear they had been very close and very dependent on each other.

As he came around the corner of the house, Cotton saw Delilah on the porch, holding herself up by clinging to one of the posts, crying her eyes out. Thorn was sitting on the
step at an angle that suggested he could barely hold himself erect.

“What is it, Delilah?” Cotton asked. “What's happened?”

“It's Mrs. Hardin. Sh-she's passed away.”

“What? You sayin' she died, too?”

“Yes. Looks like her poor old heart just gave out. She was taking Jeremiah's death harder than anyone I'd ever seen before. But, I didn't think…”

Cotton turned to Jimmy, who had yet to catch up to him. “Son, gather up those shovels. Looks like we're not quite finished here.” Jimmy did an about-face and shuffled off, with a dejected look and a slump in his shoulders.

“When bad news comes, it seems to gather momentum like a rock rollin' down a steep hill,” Cotton said, shaking his head.

“I'll get things together so we can start back, Sheriff,” Delilah said. “All right?”

“Yep. If Thorn can travel.”

“I'll gather up some food and some blankets,” she said.

“Might as well. It's clear we can't stay here with Thorn needin' a real doc to care for him. And I can't leave Jimmy here alone to watch the place. One man out here with the chance of Indians comin' back at any time would be a death sentence for him.”

Delilah said nothing as Cotton walked out into the barren yard and paced, kicking the occasional clod of dirt and raising dust with every footfall. After a few minutes, he turned back to them.

“Thorn, you figure you can handle the trip back to Apache Springs in the back of that buckboard?”

“One way or t'other, I'm goin'
with
you. No matter what.”

Delilah dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. “We'll be ready, Sheriff. Just say when.”

When Jimmy was on his way back, toting the two shovels, Cotton met him halfway.

“Jimmy, we have to carry the old lady out and bury her. Sorry to put you through this much death, but it has to be done. Also, when we're through, gather up the Hardins'
horses and we'll tie them on back and take 'em into town with us. If we leave 'em here, the Indians will just steal 'em and eat 'em.”

Cotton put Jimmy in charge of the extra horses. The boy carried his shotgun across the saddle. Cotton drove the buckboard, with Delilah sitting next to him on the seat. Since there wouldn't be anyone left to use it, Cotton had loaded a featherbed into the back to allow Thorn a more gentle ride.

“Delilah, there are some things I've been wanting to ask you. I hope you don't mind my gettin' a tad personal.”

“I was wondering when you'd want to learn more about me and Havens. That
is
what you're wanting to know about, isn't it?”

“Well, yes, in a manner of speakin', I reckon it is. Although, I'm not lookin' for any private details about your relationship; there's other things that have me puzzled.”

“Like what?”

“Like: I know we've talked about this before, but I still can't figure how you failed to notice Havens was passin' around counterfeit money like candy. Especially since you were handling it every day. And what about that young teller Havens hired? Didn't he ever act the least bit suspicious?”

“If he thought it was phony, he never said a word. It looked like the genuine article to me. I'd never even seen a counterfeit dollar before. I sure wouldn't have spent it if I'd known. Anyway, I was almost arrested for passing some of it myself. Remember?”

“Yeah. Between you and Thorn spending it, you had a passel of folks near up in arms down in Silver City. Of course, when they thought it was good currency, they were happy to take it.” He gave her a raised eyebrow.

“And I feel real bad about how it all turned out, too. Why, we neither one would have wanted those nice folks to come to no harm from something we did. You believe that, don't you?”

“For now, I reckon I'll have to.”

“So, what else is bothering you?”

“You have any idea where he could have gotten that money?”

“I met up with Havens in a dirty little Texas town. Like I told you before, the man I had been with was strung up by vigilantes for taking, uh, some liberties with a couple of their cattle. So I was in bad shape financially. That's when Havens came along, asked if I'd be interested in helping him with a plan he had, and I fell into his trap. As far as the money, I know he had it at that time. He always kept real close watch on those two valises of his.”

“Any idea how long he'd been in town before you hooked up with him?”

“No, but he must have been there awhile. He knew people because he spent a lot of time with a man he kept calling ‘cousin something or other.' ”

“Any idea what this ‘cousin' did for a livin'?”

“From what Bart said, I figured he was a printer.”

“What was the name of that town?”

“It was a dismal little town outside Fort Stockton called St. Gaul.”

Cotton thought that over for a minute before changing the subject.

“Since you claimed that it was you, and not Thorn, that shot Havens, I wonder if you'd mind lettin' me take a look at the piece you plugged him with.”

“No, I don't mind.” She opened her handbag, which was gathered at the top with a thin velvet cord. She pulled out the Remington .41-caliber derringer and handed it to the sheriff.

“This is the same gun you shot Havens with?”

“Uh, yeah, that's it. Why do you ask?”

“Curious, that's all.”

“Am I in trouble for what I did?”

“No. At least not from me. He deserved killin', and I don't rightly care who did it. Knowin' what kind of a man he was, your claim of self-defense squares up, too.”

*  *  *

They rode on in silence for the next hour, before stopping to rest in the shade of some trees not far off the road. Cotton got down to check on Thorn. Delilah did the same, rushing around to the wounded man's side like a mother hen. Cotton pulled the stopper out of one of the canteens and held it to Thorn's lips. He sipped, then gulped some of the water. Jimmy had tied his horse to a low-hanging limb on one of the trees, under which there was grass enough to feed on. He pulled his canteen from the saddle horn and drank.

Cotton looked over the landscape for any signs of trouble and, seeing none, told the others it was time to get on their way. He didn't like the way Thorn looked. He was pale and seemed weaker than he had when they started out. Cotton hoped his condition wasn't getting worse.

As the buckboard rattled on down the road, Cotton was constantly reminded of all the things about the conveyance that he'd never paid attention to before. Things like wheels needing grease on a regular basis. The squeaks and squeals of tortured wood on metal were getting on his nerves. The sound of rusty springs that had no give when the wheels dropped into one of the many ruts wasn't making the trip any easier, either. His concerns over whether Thorn McCann would survive the rough treatment he had to be experiencing kept nagging at him, too. Then, a sight to bring him out of his misery: as they crested a rise, Apache Springs came into view. What a sight it was, too. Dusty, dirty, and noisy—all the things to give a sheriff a feeling of home.

J
ack was taking no chances with James Lee Hogg. He kept his distance behind the killer as they marched down the center of the street toward the jail. When they reached the front door, Jack shoved the barrel of the shotgun into Hogg's back and growled, “Open the damned thing, James Lee, or I'll open it with a blast from this scattergun. Using your body as a batterin' ram, of course.” Jack snickered.

“All right, all right! Don't need to go gettin' pushy, you miserable law dog.” James Lee pushed open the door, and Jack shoved him inside.

Keeping his distance once they were inside, Jack motioned with the shotgun for James Lee to walk into the first cell. He followed up by slamming the cell door shut and locking it with a key from the ring he'd pulled from a knob on the rifle rack.

James Lee dropped onto the hard bunk. He scowled at Jack, who now busied himself with unloading the shotgun and placing it back in its place on the rack. He went over to the desk and sat, leaning back against the wall with his
fingers interlaced behind his head and looking quite pleased with himself. He began to whistle, thinking a brandy would taste real fine about now. James Lee broke his reverie.

“Hey! Law dog! When's some food comin' my way? Ya can't let a prisoner starve, you know.” James Lee's tone was nasty as well as demanding. “It's against the law.”

“I can if he's a pig who'll likely hang anyway.”

James Lee leapt to his feet, grabbing the bars of his cell and shaking them.

“Ain't nobody gonna hang James Lee Hogg, no sir. Soon as Judge Sanborn finds out what you've done, why, he'll be on the first stage here. Then you hicks will find out what's what. I'll be outta here in ten seconds flat. Count on it. Matter of fact, he's on his way right now.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And you ain't gonna like it when he gets here.”

“I'm shakin' in my boots.”

“Yeah, go ahead and scoff at my words. But when I'm free of this dung heap of a town, you'll be the first one I gun down. You hear me, you—”

“I
hear
you! You've had your say, now shut the hell up!”

Jack got up and walked outside. He looked across the street to see Melody push through the batwing doors to her bawdy house and saloon. She crossed the street with a teasing look on her face, swinging her hips even more than usual. Jack had always been a sucker for her come-ons, and now was no exception. Even living with her had not dampened his enjoyment of her sexual provocations. She walked straight up to him, planted a kiss on his mouth, and took his arm.

“C'mon, honey, I'm getting real lonely.”

That's when he remembered James Lee Hogg inside.

“Uh, I-I can't leave the jail right this minute, uh, because—”

“Because what? Jack, you know damned well there's nothing happening in Apache Springs that demands your immediate attention. Now, let's go to our room and—”

“No, really, Melody, I can't go right this minute.”

“Why? You got some boogeyman locked up inside?”

“Uh-huh.”

Melody looked at him like he'd lost his mind.

“You got another woman inside, Jack? Is that it? If you do, I swear I'll blow off your—”

Jack took her by both arms, spun her around, and looked her straight in the eye.

“Don't be stupid, Melody. I…”

She broke free from his grip, took one agile step around him, and rushed inside. She stopped abruptly as she took an inventory of her surroundings. Her eyes grew wide with fear at the sight of James Lee Hogg, grinning ear to ear, holding on to the cell bars and staring at her as if she were something good to eat.

“Well, hello, missy. Remember me? My, don't you look fine? Did you bring my dinner? I'm near to starvin'.”

Melody put her hand to her mouth, spun around, and stormed out of the room.

“What's that pig in jail for?”

“He tried to kill Emily Wagner. You remember tellin' him where he could find Cotton, don't you? Well, that stupid comment of yours got one of her cowboys shot. Better hope when Cotton gets back he don't take it outta your hide.”

She stomped across the porch and kept right on moving, making a beeline for Melody's Golden Palace of Pleasure. She didn't look back. Jack merely sighed.

As promised, Jack returned to check on Emily. When he went inside, she was sitting on the love seat, her hands in her lap, looking worried and perplexed. She looked up when he entered.

“He's behind bars, Miss Emily. He can't hurt you now.”

“He already has, with his words. All those awful things he said about Cotton. They can't be true, they just can't.”

“I'd wait until Cotton gets back before you make any judgments about him,” Jack said. “James Lee Hogg is a killer
and a liar. Don't you go puttin' stock in whatever filth he's been spewin'.”