Cotton's Devil (9781101618523) (16 page)

John Burdsall had been Apache Springs' one and only undertaker since the town grew out of the rocky soil in order to serve the needs of the many cattle ranchers and a few small mines. The gangly, long-faced man had few friends, although he always maintained an air of dignity about him, never smiling or joining in any levity that some saw as acceptable but he did not. He never found humor in death. Folks seemed to shy away from him, nevertheless. Cotton knocked on his door.

“Greetings, Sheriff. In what way may I be of service?”

“Sorry to be droppin' in so late, but something's been puzzlin' me for a spell. If I remember correctly, you keep bullets taken from the bodies of men who have been shot. Do you still keep such things?”

“I do, indeed, sir. Would you care to view my collection?”

“I'm interested in one particular bullet. The one taken from the body of Bart Havens.”

“Ahh, yes. I have it right here.” Cotton followed John to a back room. The man reached for a small jar at the end of a shelf lined with others just like it. He handed it to Cotton. The sheriff held it up to what little light dared enter the room of the dead. Dark drapes hung at the only window, and what illumination could be discerned came from the door left open at the entrance.

“What is your guess as to the caliber of this piece of lead?” Cotton handed the jar back.

“In my experience, while it
is
rather mangled by its encounter with bone, the size and weight suggest a smaller caliber, perhaps a thirty-eight or at most a forty-one.”

“No chance it could be a forty-five?”

“Too small. Considerably too small.”

“Thanks, John. Your knowledge of such things is a great help.”

“What's this all about?”

“I'm tyin' up a loose end. Need to see if I've been told the truth by a couple people.”

“Who'd that be?”

“Thorn McCann's lady friend, Delilah Jones, claimed she shot Havens in self-defense. If that's true, she'd have done it with that little derringer she carries.”

“I weighed the bullet, and it looks to be a forty- or forty-one-caliber.”

“Sounds like she was tellin' the truth.”

“You gonna arrest her?”

“Hell, no. Too many folks saw the damage Havens had done to her. He beat her up fairly regular. Her sayin' it was self-defense makes sense. Reckon it's time to let the whole thing drop,” Cotton said, as he left the undertaker's establishment. “Sorry to bother you, but this thing has been gnawing at me and I just had to get it cleared up.”

This time, Cotton's steps
did
take him to his own house and the awaiting Emily. Before tapping on the door to let her know he was back, he looked around warily. He had a strange feeling he was being watched. It would be just like Hogg to be hiding in an alleyway or in a second-story window, taking a bead on his back with a rifle.

As soon as she had heard about Jack, Melody rushed to the doctor's office to get all the details. She was, of course, her usual snippy self when told Jack was still asleep from the laudanum and wouldn't be able to converse with her. She demanded she be allowed to be by his side anyway. Doc Winters acquiesced by throwing up his hands in frustration and stepping aside as she all but pushed him out of her way. When the doctor attempted to usher her into a plush high-backed chair to wait for Jack to wake up, she became belligerent at seeing he had been laid out on the floor with only a rolled blanket to protect his bandaged head from the hard wood. Another man was lying on the table. It was Thorn McCann. Doc Winters had laid Jack on
the floor with plenty of padding under him to keep him comfortable while he attended to Thorn. The situation wasn't satisfactory to Melody, who was used to getting what she wanted, when she wanted it. Her expectations preceded all others.

“Why don't you have him on that table of yours? Why is he relegated to the drafts and discomfort of the floor?”

“I have another wounded patient on the table right now. There simply is no other room. I already attended to him and he's going to be fine. Just needs some rest now.”

Melody stood up and stormed out, yelling back that she would return in a few minutes with several men to carry Jack to the comfort of her own quarters. All the doctor could do was shrug and give a giant sigh.

True to her word, Melody did return promptly, knocking at the door mere minutes later with four burly men, each of whom appeared able to lift three times his own weight, to spirit Jack off. They lifted him easily enough, although without much regard for his injuries, and stumbled out of the room, onto the porch, then into the street. All the while, Melody Wakefield made it known that she was clearly in charge, barking out directions and orders like a battlefield general. They carried him through the batwings, across the barroom, up the staircase, and straight into Melody's bedroom. When they had placed him on the wide featherbed, she shooed them off with a thanks and a promise of a free drink as soon as they returned to the bar downstairs.

“Just tell Arlo to set them up for you, gents. Thank you,” were her last words before shutting the door immediately at their exit.

“Bossy bitch, ain't she?” said one of the four.

“Yeah, but if I had a woman that looked that good, hell, I'd let her yell at me all day long,” said another.

“Crap! If you had
any
woman, you'd let her tell you where to go,” said the first, and he let out a belly laugh. “Set 'em up, Arlo, on the house for a change.”

*  *  *

“Is everything all right?” Emily asked as Cotton took off his Stetson and dropped onto the love seat.

“Well, Jack's going to be fine as soon as that nasty gash in his head heals up, and Thorn McCann will likely live if Delilah Jones can shove enough food down his gullet, or so the doc says.”

“I'm thankful they're both going to be all right. What'll you do now?”

“Same as always, keep the rabble from taking the town apart board by board,” Cotton said with a silly grin.

“But you're all alone—the town's only protection. What if that awful James Lee Hogg comes back?”

“Oh, he'll be back, of that I'm damned sure. It's a couple of other things that are bothering me more than that, though.” Cotton again grew very serious.

“Like what?”

“Like who hit Jack in the first place?”

“And why did he do it?” Emily added.

“Seems likely he did it to keep Jack away while he freed Hogg. Have you noticed anybody hangin' around town with Hogg or lookin' like someone who might be of the same low-down character?”

“Most everyone fits that description. This town isn't known for its society types, you know. Would you like some coffee?”

“I would, indeed. I'll be right back after I put away the horses and get them fed.”

“When did you last eat something?”

“Can't rightly say. But now that you've brought it up, it's somethin' I should probably attend to.”

“You go ahead and take care of the horses, and I'll worry about your empty stomach.” Emily seemed to have gotten over her snit and gave him a “glad you're back” smile.

D
amned good thing you come along when you did. Probably saved my bacon,” James Lee Hogg said, tossing a small piece of deadwood on the campfire. “That damned sheriff will be none too pleased about my threatenin' his woman. He'll be lookin' hard to find me. That ought to make the judge happy,” he added.

The man looking across the flickering flames at James Lee was Lazarus Bellwood, a scrawny piece of bone and weathered flesh, an aging mountain man who could always be seen carrying a Sharps carbine in a deerskin scabbard, with Indian beadwork and fringe down the side. He was a man with a unique skill as a sharpshooter and a deadly streak a mile long. A man who left a trail of blood from here to yonder.

“Sure appreciate your help. By the way, just who are you?”

“Name's Lazarus Bellwood.”

“How come I ain't never seen you before? How'd you happen to break me out?”

“Keepin' outta sight and layin' low is part of my job.”

“Job for who?”

“The man who hired you.”

“So, Judge Sanborn sent you?”

“That he did.”

“I'm obliged to you.
Whatever
your connection is to the crazy old judge. He told me there'd be someone to watch my back.”

Lazarus remained silent, eyeing James Lee like he would a target that needed a hole punched through it.

“You look like you got somethin' more to say, Mr. Bellwood. Spit it out,” James Lee said.

“I come out here to bring you a message; it's from Sanborn. A fella came to the hotel this mornin' with a telegram,” Lazarus said, motioning for Hogg to add another log to the fire.

“Well, what does that paper say?”

“Says he's a-comin'. Soon.”

“When?”

“Like I said, real soon. Says he's gotta wrap up a, uh, minor detail about his, er, new appointment to the bench. That's all.”

“Boy, is that damned Sheriff Burke gonna be surprised when he finds out a circuit judge is on the way, and he's lookin' to settle a score.”

Lazarus chuckled.

“Don't know whether you knew this or not, Hogg, but Sanborn's gonna have an
extra
surprise in his black satchel. Our elusive sheriff's soon gonna be faced with a deputy U.S. marshal to contend with, too,” Lazarus said.

“Yeah? Who's that?” Hogg asked.

“You!”

They both roared at that revelation.

“How's he gonna do that?” Hogg said, suddenly puzzled.

“Didn't say how. But he plans to pin a badge on you, one way or another.”

“Even that dumb sheriff wouldn't try to arrest a deputy marshal,” Hogg said with a grin that stretched almost from ear to ear.

“Reckon you're right about that,” Lazarus responded, without much conviction.

“Sanborn's a clever old fart, ain't he? Wouldn't surprise me none if he turned this town into dust before he's through,” Hogg said.

“How's that?”

“First, he plans to make life miserable for any of them that's sided with Cotton Burke in any way…ever! Then he'll get even for the killin' of his son, Billy. Didn't he tell you? That's what he brought me here for.”

“Of
course
he told me; I'm here to make sure it happens accordin' to his plan.” Lazarus squinched up his face and narrowed one eye. “And his plan is to give Burke a death sentence.”

“That old devil's got ways of makin' a person look guilty when he ain't done one thing wrong.”

“Just you remember that,” Lazarus said.

“He, uh, didn't go into detail about you and what you'd be doin' whilst I'm causin' the sheriff pain,” Hogg said.

“Once he gives me the go-ahead, I'm to tack up some notices all over town tellin' of the court's opening. It'll give a few particulars about the cases he intends to make judgments concerning.”

“Uh, but there ain't no cases pending, are there?”

“No, at least no real ones. The first thing he'll do is mention some cases he's made up, and then he'll dismiss them all. That's to make him look like he's the forgivin' type,” Lazarus snickered.

“But he ain't?”

“Hell, no!”

“And then…?”

“He's gonna announce to the mayor that the sheriff is a wanted man, and he'll order you to put Burke in jail for murder, and then announce a trial date. Probably let the fool sit and worry about his fate for a day or two.”

“What makes him think Burke will jus' hand over his gun to me?”

“Well, the judge don't think for one minute that he will.
The aim is to get the sheriff so angry and flustered by all your dastardly doings, he'll be eager to pull on you.”

“Then I'm gonna shoot 'im?”

“You can bet on him gettin' shot down. And I guarantee you'll be in the middle of it all. Remember, that bastard sheriff's the one that shot off your big toe.”

They were both engulfed in laughter. Hogg was holding his stomach and quaking uproariously when he lost his balance and nearly fell into the fire. When things settled down, Lazarus once again got serious. Hogg leaned forward to catch every word, lest he miss something and find himself in trouble with the new judge.

“Sounds like you're givin' the orders until Sanborn gets here. That right?” Hogg asked.

“You can bet on it.”

“So, what do I do next?” Hogg raised one questioning eyebrow.

“First thing is, you got to lay low. Don't draw no attention to yourself. It'd likely be a good idea for you to stay out here. Looks like it's a darned fine place to hide one's self. I'll be makin' myself scarce, too, in case anyone happened to see me club that deputy. When things are ready, then you can come back into town. Not before I let you know, though. Understand?”