Cotton's Devil (9781101618523) (22 page)

“He did this from where?”

“Just about fifteen feet from the well, towards the house.”

“What was his point? Why'd he think she'd be interested? Was he lookin' for a job?”

“Nope to all of that. Said he thought she'd want to tell you that you should keep an eye peeled 'cause you never know where the next bullet might be comin' from. Said you'd understand.”

“He mention his name?”

“Don't rightly recall that he did. But he was a rangy feller carryin' a Sharps that looked like he mighta slept with it. Shiny frame, polished stock, and one of them Creedmore rear sights that mounts back of the hammer on the stock.”

Cotton fell silent. He rubbed his chin for a moment before speaking.

“You hear any of that, Henry?”

“Hear all.”

“The description suggest anyone you know?”

“Not know of such a man.”

“Teddy, I appreciate what you've told me. We'll keep a lookout for such a man. Now, you better skedaddle back to the ranch. Tell Miz Emily I'll be on the alert, and she can stop worryin'.”

“Yessir. Uh, you don't suppose it would hurt to stop for just a tiny sip of whiskey, would it?”

Cotton almost laughed out loud but kept his composure.

“No, Teddy, I don't think it would hurt a thing.”

After Teddy scampered off, Henry rose and came into the office. “You want me to keep watch for man with fancy rifle?”

“Yes, I do. He doesn't seem like a man to take lightly. And if you run across Jack, tell him, too.”

Henry picked up his Spencer rifle and slipped out the door as silently as a wolf tracking its prey.

Jack sat on the edge of Melody's bed, sloshing brandy around in a glass. He stared at it so intently that Melody
was sufficiently incensed to inquire what could possibly be so important as to take his mind off her charms. She raised herself up on one elbow, reached over, and stabbed him playfully in the ribs with a long-nailed finger.

“Jack! Look at me! Don't you like what you see? Am I getting old and haggard?”

“Huh?” Jack suddenly realized he was being addressed. He came out of his fog trying to reconstruct whatever it was that Melody had been muttering. “I…”

“Don't toy with me, Jack. Do you think I'm pretty or not?”

“Not pretty, Melody, beautiful. And you always will be…to me.”

“Well said, sweetie, but I'm
concerned
about you.”

“Why?”

“You've been distant, lately, off in another place.” She sat up suddenly. “You're not thinking of another woman, are you?”

“Of course not. My head still hurts a mite, that's all.”

“If I find out you're lying to me, I'll shoot your…”

“Melody! Stop it! There's no other woman, and I've had enough of your jealous tantrums. I'm concerned about Cotton, that's all.”

“Cotton! Always Cotton! Damn! Sometimes I think you'd rather be with him than me.” She swung her legs off the bed, got up, and slipped into a pink robe with feathers all down the front. She stood in front of the full-length mirror she'd had sent from Chicago, twisting and turning, checking to make sure Jack wasn't lying about her losing her looks.

“Now, Melody, don't go gettin' all huffy on me. Cotton's my boss and whatever happens to him affects me, too. Don't you see that?”

“Uh-huh. But whatever happens to that rattler don't mean a hill of beans to me. When we're together, I expect your
full
attention. You got that?” Melody stormed out without waiting for an answer, slamming the door behind her.

Jack muttered one under his breath anyway.

“One of these days, my dear, you're goin' to push me too far.”

In a foul mood when he left the saloon, Memphis Jack had no more than stepped out the swinging doors than he came face-to-face with Henry Coyote. He stopped and started to say howdy, but Henry cut him off.

“Have message from sheriff. Come sit, we talk.”

“Where is he? Has something happened?”

“He concerned about Miz Emily. He get bad news.”

“Bad news? What—”

“I talk. You listen.”

T
he next morning, Cotton was cleaning his coffee cup in a bucket of water when someone burst into the jail. He finished wiping the cup dry, then poured some fresh coffee. He didn't bother to look around. He could tell by the way the door slammed it was Memphis Jack.

“Cotton, got some news, and it ain't good.”

“Yeah? Well, I already got some of my own.”

“Henry already told me all about the sharpshooter,” Jack said. “But that ain't all.”

“There's more bad news?” Cotton said, with a questioning squint.

“The stage from Socorro just got in. Couple of fellers got off that're bound to spell trouble.”

“How do you know that?”

“One was a scrawny old, balding man, bent over and lookin' disheveled. Had a glint in his eye that sent a chill up my spine, I'll tell you.”

“A chill, and that spells trouble?” Cotton raised one eyebrow.

“Indeed it does.”

“And the other one?”

“James Lee Hogg.”

“What! Are you certain?”

“Sure as water runs downhill, I'm that dead-on certain. Don't forget, I'm the one who put him in jail for rousting Emily. My eyesight ain't givin' out on me,” Jack said.

“Where'd they go?”

“Straight for the mayor's office. I 'spect that's where they are right this moment.”

“Tell me more about the old man. What'd he look like? How old? Fat, tall, short? Were his clothes store-bought or handmade? How'd he walk?”

“Hold on, Cotton, one question at a time.”

“Sorry.”

“For starters, he was, like I said, kinda bent over. He used a cane with a silver handle. He had white hair, or what was left of it. And he was frail, I'd say, bony and frail. But that look on his face, I'll tell you—”

“I know, chilling. What color was his suit? Or was he wearing a duster?”

“How'd you know about the duster?”

“Just a guess. Pretty dusty ridin' the stage, and some men don't want to get their clothes trail dirty. Especially if they think they're real important.”

“Yeah, well he
did
have on a duster.”

Cotton set his cup on the desk and walked to the door. He gazed at the town hall, where the mayor had his office. He leaned back against the doorframe and watched. Didn't say anything, just watched. Jack frowned as he squeezed by Cotton and went outside to sit on the bench. They both remained there keeping a vigil on the door to the town hall. After about twenty minutes, the mayor and two other men emerged, one old and stooped, the other the man who'd escaped jail after someone had cracked Jack's skull with the butt of a rifle. The identity of that someone remained a mystery.

“I say we go down there and arrest Hogg for breaking
out of jail,” Jack said. He spoke through gritted teeth. He looked up to see Cotton chewing his lip. “What do you think, Sheriff?”

“I think you're right about that trouble you spoke about.”

“If I am right, it looks like it's comin' sooner rather than later. They're headed this way.”

Mayor Orwell Plume led the way, with the old man following a step or two behind. The third man, James Lee Hogg, broke off and headed for the saloon. Jack kept his eyes on Hogg, then got up.

“Think I'll wander over to Melody's place and keep watch over things,” Jack said, not waiting for permission. Cotton just grunted his permission as his deputy stepped off the boardwalk.

When the mayor got close enough for him to hear, Cotton spoke up.

“Looks like you got company, Orwell.”

“Indeed, Sheriff. I'd like you to meet the new circuit judge for the district. He tells me that Territorial Governor Lew Wallace himself has appointed him to set up his court right here. It sounds like it'll be a good thing for the town. Should bring in lots of folks from all around to see the court in action. It also means not havin' to travel all the way down to Silver City for trials. Well, anyway, this here is Judge Arthur Sanborn, recently from—”

“Texas!” Cotton said, barely able to control his anger.

“How'd you know that, Cotton?”

“We've met.”

“Ah, well, I wanted you to be the first to know that Judge Sanborn will be starting his trials very soon. He hasn't set a date yet for the first one.” Plume turned to Sanborn, who looked as if he had bitten down on something very sour. His gaunt, wrinkled face was ashen gray. “Uh, exactly what
will
be your first case, Judge?”

“It'll be one that's bound to shake the community up quite nicely, Mayor. I'll give you the particulars in a day or two.” Sanborn slowly turned and shuffled away, headed for the hotel.

“Oh, one thing, Judge, who was that man with you?” Cotton's voice was unmistakably bitter.

“Oh, that's Deputy U.S. Marshal James Lee Hogg. I believe you've already met. A judge needs someone to enforce his rulings, you know.” Sanborn was chuckling as he stepped away and went on down the street alone.

“Is there something I should know, Sheriff, about the judge and all?” Plume asked. “You seem, er, upset.”

“I figure you'll find out soon enough, Mayor. Soon enough.” Cotton spun on his heel and went inside. He slammed the door behind him just in case the mayor took a notion to follow him.

Shaken by the experience of seeing his enemy face-to-face, Cotton sat morosely at his desk. He'd drawn his Colt and was cocking and uncocking it over and over. He was faced with a dilemma and he knew it.
How could that crooked, evil old man have gotten an appointment to the bench?
Is it even legitimate or just another of that wily old fool's tricks?
He was boiling inside when he heard a light knock at the door. At first he ignored it, but after the second
tap, tap, tap
, he hollered, “Come in! The damned thing ain't locked!”

Emily cautiously eased the door open and peered around the corner. When he saw her, he was ashamed that he'd let his anger spill over. He was, after all, the sheriff, and it was imperative for him to maintain a sense of civility toward the citizenry at all times. Over the past few minutes, civility had been the furthest thing from his mind.

“
Emily!
Uh, I'm sorry for shouting. You, er, caught me at a bad time, I reckon. Come in, please. Didn't know you were in town. I got your message from Teddy.”

“Good. But after he left, I got to thinking about all that's happened with Hogg and now that man with the rifle. I'm concerned. So I came on in myself.”

Having drifted into the room with an air of worried expectation, Emily Wagner stood in front of Cotton with a questioning look, head cocked.

“I wish there was something I could say to ease your fears, but…”

“I expected that's what you'd say, and I don't blame you one bit. I don't know what's going on, but I did see some old man and that awful James Lee Hogg coming out of the mayor's office. Hogg wasn't in chains, so I figured he wasn't under arrest. Why is that?”

“It's a long story and one that's proving tough to swallow.”

“That's what you said when I asked you about your past.”

“Uh-huh. I remember. And this time I expect it's goin' to get me in as much trouble.”

“It will if you can't see the advantage in being honest with me and not keeping all your secrets inside.”

“That old man is the father of the young hellion I shot, the one who raped and beat my sister, Juliet, to death. He's somehow found a way to follow me here and make my life pure hell.”

“Hell?”

“That's what the devil cooks up, isn't it?”

“How can he cause you any trouble here? Didn't that all occur in Texas?”

“He has somehow conned our governor into making him a circuit judge for this district and has given him Apache Springs as his court location. Looks like he somehow got Hogg made a marshal, too. At least that's his claim.”

“What're you going to do about it? You can't just let him chase you out!”

“He's not interested in chasing me anywhere. He wants to see me gunned down in the street.”

“Is there any possibility that the man who stopped by my ranch and entertained Teddy and me with his shooting ability could play into things?”

“Emily, I think it's far more than a possibility.”

Distress clouded Emily's face. She was visibly shaken by Cotton's words. Cotton took her by the shoulders and pulled her close. She buried her face in his shoulder. He could feel her shaking. Comforting a fear-stricken woman wasn't something that came naturally to him. But it was important that he try.

“It's goin' to work out, Emily. I'm sure of it.”

She pulled back enough to look him in the eye. “How can you know that?”