Cotton's Devil (9781101618523) (32 page)

“What're you doin' in the alley, Lazarus? Lost somethin'?”

The sound of Hogg's voice both scared and relieved him.

“Where the hell you been, you son of a bitch? You nearly took ten years off my life.”

“I had to visit the outhouse.”

“You already went out there once today.”

“So what? That was this mornin'. When a man has to
go, he has to go. Ya can't take it back. I a'ready done did it.” Hogg gave Lazarus a big grin. “What'd you need me for, anyway?”

“Sanborn needs to see you right away. C'mon.” Lazarus grabbed Hogg by the sleeve and started to tug him toward the back stairs. Hogg pulled away with a growl.

“Don't never lay a hand on me again, Lazarus; I don't like it one damned bit. Besides, what could be so important he can't wait till tomorrow?”

“Oh, quit your fussin'. Sanborn's awaitin', and he don't like to have to twiddle his thumbs for nobody. Neither those he likes or those he don't like. And right now, you ain't his favorite person.” Lazarus started to lead off, thought better of it, and waved Hogg in front of him. “And if I was you, I wouldn't bring up the whys or wherefores of Sanborn's thinkin'. He may not carry a gun, but that don't mean he ain't dangerous.”

“I appreciate your lookin' out for me, Lazarus, I truly do.” Hogg put his hand on his revolver, eased it from the holster, cocked it, and aimed it at Lazarus. “But I think it's time you quit treating me like your ignorant half brother. Understand? Or that fancy rifle of yours will be lookin' for a new owner. And I'm just the one to help it on its way.”

W
hen Jack walked in later in the evening, after checking the town for vagrants or break-ins, Cotton was busy drawing some sort of diagram on the back of a wanted dodger with barely more than a stub of a pencil. Jack walked up to the sheriff, leaned over, and said, “You're better at drawin' flies than you seem to be at drawin' pictures.”

Cotton ignored his sharp-tongued deputy.

Unfazed by his opinion's rejection, Jack took up a seat across from the desk and continued a steely-eyed perusal of Cotton's attempts at artistry. He didn't say anything, content to watch for several minutes before curiosity got the best of him.

“All right, you can't just ignore me forever! What the hell are you doin'?”

“Makin' a map.”

“Map? You goin' somewhere?”

“Nope. You are.”

“Whoa! What's that mean? I got no plans to leave here.”

Cotton leaned back, turned the paper around, and said, “Lean closer and learn your fate.”

Jack did just that. He frowned for a couple seconds, then, realizing what he was looking at, he smiled.

“Ahh, I understand now. You've mapped out your movements and where you plan to stand when James Lee Hogg calls you out, right? Right there where that ‘X' is?”

“Close. Except it won't be
me
facin' Hogg. What reason could you conjure up for me to draw a map of movements for myself? I think I can remember where the hotel is.”

“Well, who then?”

“Come on, Jack, you're not stupid. Think about it.”

“I'm thinkin' you've lost your mind. But I still don't get it.”

“All right. Listen up. We have to figure Sanborn will make Hogg appear in the street hollerin' somethin' or other about me bein' a murderer and that he's got to put me under arrest. Right?”

“Sounds right. But Hogg, himself, is wanted for murder. And he knows it.”

“Yep. And now Sanborn knows it, too. All the more reason to send Hogg out there to call me out. He knows I'll show up.”

“I see your reasonin'.”

“We also know Sanborn is a creature of habit. He makes plans and doesn't let anything stand in his way. He has had this confrontation planned down to the second, and you can bet he'll be right up there in his room watchin' every move. He'll take no chances on missin' the sight of his enemy gettin' plugged. His sharpshooter will be beside him taking a bead on my chest. You still with me on this?”

“Every step. So why the map?”

“If we're to beat this evil old man at his game, we have to be a step ahead and throw a brandin' iron into his spokes. And it's a game Sanborn has played many times before.”

“That's where you're losin' me. How do we do that?”

“We don't. You do.”

Jack's eyes shot open wide with surprise. He began to sputter.

“W-what d-d'you mean? Me? Do what?”

“How do you think you'll look wearin' one of my shirts, my Stetson, and my gun belt?”

“Like I'm swimmin' in someone else's castoffs, that's how I think I'd look.”

“Hmm, I might get Emily to do a little needlework. You'll look fine.”

“Let me get this straight. You're sendin' me out to brace that asshole Hogg, wearin' your clothes. Do I have this correct?”

“You do.”

“Are you suggestin' I have to beat Hogg to the draw or go down in the street? While you're doin'…what? And how am I supposed to be the brandin' iron in the spokes?”

“Jack, quit your bellyachin'.
Emily
could beat Hogg to the draw. While you're toyin' with that oaf, I'm goin' to be puttin' a halt to the
real
shooter in this devilish scheme.”

“You ain't figurin' that person to be Arthur Sanborn, are you?”

“Hell, no! You're forgetting about the man who's been hangin' back in the shadows all along, Lazarus Bellwood, a true sharpshooter and a cold-blooded murderer of the first degree.”

“I still don't understand why you made a map.”

“Because I want you to memorize the
exact
route and the
exact
place you are to stand in the street. It's very important for you not to be exposed to Bellwood's rifle before everything is ready. Can you do that?”

“Yeah, I suppose.”

“Good. Now, let's go over it and I'll explain why every detail must be followed
exactly
as I've laid it out.”

After changing shirts and buckling up the cartridge belt, Jack kept shifting around, changing positions, practicing
reaching across his stomach, trying to get used to wearing Cotton's cross-draw gun belt and holster. He wasn't finding the transition an easy one. Also, the Colt .45 felt more than a little awkward to a man used to a Remington. He hefted each as if to determine a difference in weight. Cotton could see his deputy's discomfort at the differences and decided to change his mind about the gun. Everything had to appear natural. Nothing to give away the switch before he was ready.

“It appears you don't seem that all-fired eager to try out my Colt. So while there isn't one chance in hell that James Lee Hogg could outdraw you even if you were buried in sand up to your chin, I'm goin' to let you use your Remington instead. I don't know how, but I suppose somethin'
could
happen to come along and muddy the water. Besides, Sanborn hasn't seen enough of either of us to notice we carry our guns differently.”

“Thanks, Cotton. I'll feel better with a smoke wagon I'm familiar with.” Jack removed Cotton's rig and grabbed his own off the desk.

“Hogg'll be so damned nervous about his big chance to get at me, he'll never notice what gun you got on anyway. Besides, by the time you get to within twenty feet of him, he'll realize you aren't me. That's when his tough-guy act will crumble like the walls of Jericho.”

“So just where do you figure to be while I'm savin' you from bein' cut down like a clump of ragweed?”

“Flickin' a pesky gnat off my food.”

Jack leaned over the map and at least acted as if he was studying it.

“Now, just to make sure we got the thing worked out, let's go over it once more. We can't afford a misstep. It makes sense that Hogg will show himself right in front of the hotel, standing where he's directly below Sanborn's window. If you walk down the middle of the street, you'd be a perfect target almost the whole way. That's why I want you stayin' under the porticoes over the boardwalk all the way to here,” Cotton stressed, pointing to the last storefront
on the block. “That way, you're not exposed to whatever Lazarus Bellwood has in mind. Sanborn will want him to hold off his shot until the person he thinks is me is where he can get a good view of the takedown. He'll want to savor the moment. He'll probably hold Lazarus off until the very last second, just before Hogg makes his move to put me under arrest. That's why I say, when he discovers it's you instead of me, he'll lose whatever nerve he started with.”

“I see where you're comin' from, but what if Hogg doesn't wait for Sanborn's signal or whatever it is—”

“Damn!”

“What?”

“I hadn't thought about that.”

“About what?”

“Sanborn's signal. He can't signal to Hogg or anyone else without givin' himself away. He can't let anyone know he's waitin' in a hotel room with a sharpshooter to blow my insides all over the street. What kind of judge would do that? He'd lose whatever credibility he has.”

“So how does Hogg pick his time to draw?”

“Only thing I can figure is it might not make any difference. Sanborn probably doesn't figure on Hogg livin' long enough to be of any further use to him. He's likely told Lazarus to shoot as soon as I, you, make a move to draw. If Hogg goes down before Lazarus shoots, so be it.”

“Then you're sayin' if I don't go for my gun, nothing will happen?”

“Sanborn's likely made Hogg understand that he has to keep pushing until I get so angry I'll lose control and pull on him. He's countin' on my drawin' on Hogg.”

“Knowin' you, I'd say he's got a right good plan.”

“Uh-huh.” Cotton screwed up his mouth in response. He looked at the floor, then the ceiling, then all around the room. He was pensive, lost in thought.

“When do you figure it's all goin' down?”

“Sanborn has to know we won't give up lookin' for Hogg for that girl's murder until we catch him. Sooner or later, that idiot will screw up and show himself. If that
happens, Sanborn's goose is cooked. Hogg'll spill his guts like a fresh-killed buffalo. It's comin', and comin' soon. I can smell it hangin' heavy in the air. Could even be tomorrow.”

“I guess I'd better get some shut-eye, then,” Jack said with toss of his hand.

O
ne more of your stupid moves, Hogg, and I'll make sure they hang you after Burke is lying in the dirt. Since there is no doubt you killed that poor whore, all I'd have to do is turn the town's men loose. I'm sure they would make short work of it,” Sanborn said, waving a bony finger in his face. “You'll have no defense. From now on, one misstep and you can count on being the second victim of a righteous shooting.”

Lazarus was leaning against the far wall, his Sharps cradled across his chest. Hogg couldn't help but notice that the hammer was cocked. He was trapped, and he knew it. His nerves couldn't take much more of being shut up in a tiny room with Lazarus Bellwood, but he had apparently run out of options. All he had really wanted when he took the deal in the first place was enough money to get far away from the dirty, blistering desert. He'd figured he'd find a way to get paid before he had to face Cotton Burke, a man he knew damned well he couldn't beat.

I wonder if that old fool has all my money in that leather valise he's got sittin' on the bed
, James Lee thought.

That's when his mind began conjuring a plan to grab the money and light a shuck for California or Canada. He'd have to get far away from both Sanborn and Bellwood. Ideas started floating around in his muddled brain like leaves in a whirlpool. He hadn't eaten for a while and he was in serious need of a drink, maybe a whole bottle of whiskey.
Maybe by the time Sanborn is ready for me, I'll be ready to make my escape.