Cotton's Devil (9781101618523) (21 page)

E
arly in the morning, two days later, Lazarus Bellwood rode into Apache Springs, being careful not to attract undue attention, twenty-four hours ahead of the Butterfield stage from Socorro. He arrived to a town awakening. James Lee had briefed him of the old judge's plans, and he'd been pondering just what he could do to help things along. After all, James Lee had fouled things up, twice, so Lazarus figured he'd take a shot at an idea that had come to him in the middle of the night while he rocked back and forth in his saddle just trying to stay awake. His idea was not to make the sheriff angrier, but to put a scare into him, make him fear for his very life. He wanted the sheriff to be looking into every dark corner every time he stepped outside. His plan involved something less drastic than shooting a woman.
James Lee Hogg is a fool. I'll not make the same dumb mistakes.
Before I'm through, Cotton Burke will be shooting at shadows.

Since he hadn't eaten for a whole day, the first thing he did was to order breakfast at a small diner near the livery.
From a seat near the one and only window, he could see the comings and goings of half the town's inhabitants. For instance, he saw Emily emerge from the sheriff's house, the location of which he'd learned from the hotel desk clerk. He watched her climb onto the seat of her buckboard and drive away, heading straight out of town.
Must be the sheriff's lady
, Lazarus thought.
Perfect. I'll just follow and see where she goes.
He hurried to gobble up his eggs and beans, shoved a biscuit into his mouth, and dropped some coins on the table before rushing out the door.

Lazarus pulled the reins loose from the hitching rail and climbed into the saddle. It was a calm day, and he could still see the trail of dust left by Emily's wagon. He'd stay a decent distance behind so he wasn't spotted. Considering the heat, he was just as happy his roan mare wasn't exhibiting any need to increase her gait anyway. He leaned over and patted the horse on the neck. Lazarus stayed well out of sight as Emily Wagner drove her two-horse team toward her ranch. Lazarus steered his roan into a copse of cottonwoods at the bottom of a lane when the ranch house came into view and it was obvious that's where the comely lady was headed. He sat with his hands stacked on the pommel, well back in the shadows as he watched her climb down and go inside. He took off his floppy hat and scratched his head. His loosely formed plan could use some more thought, but time was of the essence. He wanted to put his idea in play before the Judge and James Lee Hogg arrived back in town the next day.

The last time he'd been in Apache Springs, no one had caught even a glimpse of his shadowy movements as he stalked the town's deputy sheriff to the hotel, then clubbed him into unconsciousness with the butt of his Sharps rifle, in order to free Hogg from jail. That had been his plan, too, carefully considered and executed. No evidence left behind, no one the wiser as to his clandestine presence. He was not only one of the best rifle shots west of the Mississippi River, but also a cold and calculating killer. And, notably, one without any record of his despicable deeds to follow him
around as so many gunmen's did. Buoyed by a sudden flash of confidence, Lazarus clucked his tongue. The roan stepped forward, out of the shadowy overhang of the leafy canopy, her hooves clicking a rhythm on the rocky path to the ranch house.

Emily spotted the lone rider as he came up the path to the porch. She called out to one of the cowboys, Teddy Olander, to come quickly and be armed. She stepped through the door, the scattergun from over the fireplace gripped firmly in her hands.
This time
, she thought,
I'll not hesitate to pull the trigger if it looks like this fellow is as unsavory as he appears
.

Lazarus reined the horse in front of the porch steps and leaned on the pommel, making certain to keep his hands well away from his rifle, so as not to signal a threat. He carried no sidearm.

“Howdy, ma'am. I was passin' by and wondered if you could spare a traveler a spot of water. Mighty hot out here, today,” Lazarus said, tipping his dusty hat.

Emily pointed to a well off to the side of the house. “Well's over there. You're welcome to a drink for yourself and your horse, and then move on.” She kept the shotgun pointed in his direction.

“Obliged, ma'am,” Lazarus said as he dismounted and led the horse to the well. Beside the round stone well there stood a wooden trough filled with water and a slight scum of green algae around the edge. Lazarus swished the algae aside so the horse could drink. He then pulled up the bucket from the well and dipped a long-handled tin cup into it. He drank deeply. He hadn't really realized just how thirsty he had been until that cool water touched his lips. “Mighty kind of you.”

“Something else I can do for you?” Emily asked, taking notice of Lazarus's lack of enthusiasm for leaving. Lazarus looked over at Teddy standing by the porch, his rifle in his hand, hat pulled low, and looking more than a bit uneasy with the man's presence.

“Uh, oh, no, ma'am.” He hesitated. “Well, maybe one
thing. In addition to needin' a drink, I also dropped by to show you a little bit of what I do best. Never know when you might need a man with my expertise. If that'd be all right.”

“Your expertise?”

“Yep. I'm a champion rifle shot. Won all sorts of prizes from here to Kansas City and beyond. Hell, that's how I got my horse and my saddle. Of course, my pride and joy is the Sharps rifle that's restin' in the saddle scabbard. Won that in Fort Worth. Turkey shoot.”

“I don't reckon I'll be needing any demonstrations today. Thank you, anyway.” Emily had taken a few steps backward to let him know she was through talking, when Lazarus made his final plea.

“Only take a moment of your time. Besides, I figure you'll be wantin' to pass on what you've seen to the sheriff.”

“Just what do you mean?” Her eyes narrowed at the man's barely concealed message.

“As I rode in, I set an unopened can of peaches on the gatepost at the end of your lane. I propose to take one shot. You'll surely get the point of my little demonstration.” Without waiting for a response from her, Lazarus slipped the Sharps from the scabbard and brought it cleanly to his cheek. He flipped up the adjustable Creedmore sight mounted on the tang, made one slight change, cocked the rifle, and slowly squeezed the trigger. The gun bucked as it roared to life in a smoky cloud. Almost a hundred yards away, the can of peaches exploded in a spray of juice, peach parts, and tin shrapnel, spreading the contents for twenty feet. He was all grins as he replaced the rifle in its scabbard.

“All right, I'll grant you that you've just made a formidable shot. But I fail to see your objective in doing so.” Emily's trigger finger was twitching.

“Just thought you'd want to let that lawman friend of yours know that not every bullet comes from ten feet away. He should keep his eyes peeled. A careful sheriff is a live sheriff,” Lazarus said, as he gave her a wry grin, swung into his saddle, and spurred the roan to a run toward the gate.

Emily was frowning as she turned to Teddy. He appeared as puzzled as she was.

“What the devil did we just witness?” she said.

“Damned if I know, er, pardon my language, ma'am.”

“One thing's for sure, you better ride to town and tell Sheriff Cotton about our visitor,” Emily said, “Oh, and if you see Henry, fill him in, too.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Teddy said, as he trotted off to the corral to saddle a horse.

Cotton looked pleased as Delilah and Thorn McCann came strolling into the jail, arm in arm and all smiles. The sheriff leaned back in his chair, interlacing his fingers behind his head.

“Good to see you up and around, McCann.”

“Thanks to you, I'm still able to walk about with this beautiful lady.”

Delilah blushed and tried to avoid direct eye contact with Cotton.

“If you hadn't come along when you did, I fear we'd all be coyote bait,” Thorn said.

“Luck of the draw, McCann, luck of the draw.”

“Well, I like your kind of luck. But I am somewhat confused by what the hell you were doing out there in the first place.”

“Didn't you send a telegram to me askin' me to come save your worthless hide from a rope necktie?”

“Reckon I did, at that.”

“Then, when I got there, you were gone. Escaped with the help of some unknown individual, likely that same beautiful lady clingin' to your arm. Am I guessin' right?”

“Depends. She gonna face charges if she
did
happen to come for a visit at just the right time?”

“Nope. Marshal in Silver City said he's just as happy to have you gone. Wasn't all that certain how he was goin' to prove you knew it was counterfeit money you were spreadin' all around, and he didn't favor a vigilante hangin'.”

“Yeah, well, I think I can explain. As I now see it, all that money Bart Havens was flashin' around turned out to be phony. I didn't know until I got wind that some folks in Silver City were questioning whether it was good or not. When I mentioned it to Delilah, she was as surprised as I was. Hell, I never saw no fake bills before, well, other than Confederate, that is.”

“That's when you two decided to break out of their jail?”

“That's right. See, it was all just an innocent mistake,” Thorn said with a shrug.

“I will say the Apache Springs banks' depositors were right pleased that you brought
their
money back safe and sound. Nobody hereabouts got stung too bad. However, by what you've just told me, you've pretty much convicted yourself by admitting you knew it was fake when you broke out of the Silver City jail instead of hangin' around and tryin' to make things right to a judge. Did I miss anything?”

“It's like you said, some of them folks was bein' a bit unreasonable about things. Seemed the best option to skedaddle.”

Cotton just grunted.

T
eddy Olander spurred his horse to a dead run. Dust swirled behind him as he left the dusty road to cut across country and save time in his rush to get the message out to Sheriff Burke that there had been some strange doin's at the Wagner ranch. Teddy had been raised not far from Apache Springs, and he knew the country like the back of his hand. He was a good horseman and an eager worker, both virtues in Emily Wagner's sight. When he splashed across the last of the many small creeks that wandered down from the hills and nearby mountains, pulling up just at the edge of town, he smiled to himself. He pulled out his pocket watch and grinned big. One half hour better than the time it would have taken had he stayed on the trail.

Teddy reined in at the hitching rail in front of the jail, jumped to the ground, and rushed inside. Fortunately, the sheriff was at his desk and Henry Coyote was lying on a bunk in one of the cells. Teddy's eyes grew wide at the sight.

“Sheriff, h-how's come Henry's in jail? He didn't do nothin', did he? Why, I've never knowed…”

“Calm down, Teddy. Henry is taking his leisure in there because he wants to, not because of anything he's done.”

Teddy took off his hat and wiped the sweat from his brow. “Whew. That's a relief. Miz Wagner wouldn't like it none if Henry was in some sort of trouble.”

“Well, he's not, so you can stop frettin'. Now, what're you doin' in town?”

“Miz Wagner has had an unsettlin' experience out at the ranch. Wanted me to hurry in and tell you about it.”

Cotton stared at the boy, not saying a word. He waited a full minute. Then he waited some more. He sighed.

“Teddy, I swear I could die of old age before you spit out what it was that brought you here. Get on with it.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry. Well, there was this feller come ridin' in pretty as you please, got down off his horse—without no invitation mind you—and asked Miz Wagner for some water for him and his mount.”

“Yeah?”

“Miz Wagner, bein' the generous soul she is, said he could have all he wanted at the well. The man led his horse around to the well and proceeded to let the horse drink from the trough. He ladled himself a cup or two, spillin' half of it down his shirt and…”

“Teddy! How about we get to the good part? The unsettlin' part you mentioned.”

“Uh, sorry to be so long-winded, but I just don't want to leave nothin' important out.”

“I understand. Go on. But be kinda quick about it, if you could.”

“Yessir. Well, this feller said he wanted to show her somethin' she would find interestin'. She didn't act like she wanted to be bothered, but he proceeded to pull a Sharps rifle from his saddle scabbard, cocked it, and aimed down the sights. Said he'd placed a can of peaches on the fence post at the gate as he rode in. He pulled that trigger and let fly. And whooee! That can of peaches exploded like it had dynamite in it. I checked the can when he left. Hit the darned thing dead center.”