Reuben's Revenge Page 10

  Reuben dismounted and knocked on the sheriff’s door.

  There was no reply.

  He tried the door-knob, but it was locked.

  ‘Ain’t no sheriff today, fella,’ a passer-by said.

  ‘How come?’ Reuben asked.

  ‘Cos it’s Tuesday,’ the man replied as if that explained everything.

  ‘So?’ Reuben looked puzzled.

  ‘Tuesday’s fishin’ day, he won’t be back ’til Thursday, unless the fish are bitin’, then it could be Friday. Mind you, if they ain’t bitin’, he might be back today, got no patience that man.’

  ‘Is there a deputy?’ Reuben asked.

  ‘Nope. Never had the need for one.’

  ‘You ever hear about Bloody Bill Anderson?’ Reuben asked.

  ‘Sure have, ’sposed to be the meanest critter around,’ the man replied.

  ‘Well, that’s him,’ Reuben pointed at his prisoner.

  ‘Son of a gun,’ the townsman said, his mouth agape. ‘Hey!’ the man shouted, ‘Look who we—’

  ‘Keep your voice down and don’t let anyone know who we got here; there ain’t gonna be no lynching here. When’s the circuit judge due?’ Reuben asked.

  ‘Hell, you better ask the mayor that one. I jus’ run the General Store.’

  ‘OK. So where do I find the mayor?’ Reuben asked, his patience wearing thin.

  ‘Oh. He’ll be with the sheriff,’ the man replied nonchalantly.

  Reuben drew his Colt and pointed it at the man’s head.

  ‘Mister, I’m gonna ask you one more question,’ Reuben said, his eyes as cold as the metal of his gun.

  The man visibly shrank and began to shake.

  ‘Who’s in charge of this shit-hole?’

  ‘W-w-well. I guess I am,’ the man stammered.

  Reuben was almost at the end of his tether. He felt like shooting the man just for the hell of it.

  Another townsman approached the men. ‘Don’t take no notice of ol’ Jake here. He ain’t quite right in the head. You need help here, Doc, sir?’

  ‘I need to get my prisoner locked up and wait for the circuit judge,’ Reuben said.

  ‘An’ who is this prisoner?’ the man asked. ‘My name is Chuck, by the way.’

  ‘It’s Bloody Bill Anderson,’ Jake said with a big grin on his face.

  Reuben just stared at the man.

  ‘I’ll get the keys to the sheriff’s office an’ we’ll get him in a cell, pronto.’

  ‘Thanks, Chuck,’ Reuben said.

  ‘Good to see you back, Doc,’ Chuck grinned.

  ‘Believe me, Chuck, it’s good to be back.’

  ‘I’ll get the keys, it won’t take a moment,’ Chuck said, ‘an’ then we can get a drink and some grub.’

  ‘Sounds good to me,’ Mackay smiled.

  ‘OK, Jake. On your way,’ Reuben said to the man, less harshly this time, now that he knew the man was a bit ‘simple’.

  Chuck returned with a bunch of keys and started trying to unlock the sheriff’s office. At the fifth attempt, he found the right key and opened the door.

  It was dark in the office, the shutters were drawn and there was a musty smell.

  ‘I take it the sheriff doesn’t spend much time in here,’ Reuben remarked as the undid the shutters.

  ‘We get the occasional drunk, but little else,’ Chuck responded. ‘I’ll get the stove lit an’ coffee on. Here’s the keys to the cells, let’s get that critter locked up.’

  ‘I’ll see to his leg and get that sewn up, then let us get some decent grub.’ The doc and Ely went outside and helped Anderson off his horse.

  Anderson laughed out loud as they walked him through the sheriff’s office and into the cell block.

  ‘You think you can keep me in here?’ he laughed again. ‘I’ll be out afore nightfall,’ he bragged.

  ‘See that cot, Anderson? You’ll be handcuffed to it, and the cot is anchored in concrete. Still think you’ll escape?’ Reuben said smugly.

  Anderson didn’t utter another word as he was placed on the hard cot. Then his wrists were handcuffed to metal bars on either side of it.

  Reuben went back to the front office and gave Ely a hand getting the stove lit and the coffee brewing. They both winced as the yells came from the cells as Doc Mackay went to work on Anderson’s leg.

  No whiskey or laudanum this time.

  The doc came through to the front office and his mouth watered as he smelled the aroma of the Arbuckle’s that filled the room.

  ‘I guess we’ll have to take shifts in keeping an eye on Anderson. I wouldn’t put anything past him,’ Reuben said. ‘I’ll take first watch. Chuck, are you with us?’

  ‘Sure thing,’ Chuck replied.

  ‘Could you sort out some grub for us?’ Ely asked.

  ‘Yeah, I’ll go over to Sally’s Eatery; she’s a damn fine cook.’

  Chuck downed his coffee and left the sheriff’s office.

  ‘Well, seems to me I’m not needed any more, so I’ll mosey on home, get cleaned up and see what messages I’ve missed.’

  ‘Thanks for all your help, Doc,’ Reuben said.

  ‘Yeah, thanks Doc, see you in the morning.’

  Chapter Twenty-One

  ‘Hold up,’ Adams said.

  ‘What’s up now?’ Clarke asked.

  ‘They left the trail here,’ Adams pointed to the tracks.

  ‘Maybe it’s a short cut. How far’s Cannon Falls from here?’ Clarke asked.

  ‘How the hell would I know? I ain’t ever heard of it afore and certainly never bin there,’ Adams said.

  ‘We better keep our eyes peeled,’ Clarke said. ‘It gets rocky up yonder, so the trail will be hard to follow.’

  ‘OK, lead on.’

  The two men rode in silence, glancing at the ground and then left and right, making sure they weren’t about to ride into an ambush.

  They reached a flat, rock plateau which gave them a better view of what lay ahead.

  ‘There’s grassland down there,’ Clarke said. ‘We’ll soon pick up their trail.’

  ‘You know what?’ Adams said. ‘I reckon they camped down yonder, that’s why they left the trail.’

  ‘We’ll soon find out,’ Clarke said, and led his horse gingerly down the slope until they hit the flatter grassland, where the animals stopped of their own accord and started to munch on the rich, green grass.

  Moving on, they’d covered only fifty yards when Clarke reined in and raised his Stetson.

  ‘Holy shit!’ he exclaimed. ‘Look at that!’

  ‘Sure is one big cat,’ Adams said, and dismounted, drawing his Colt.

  He approached the cougar cautiously, not sure if the animal was dead or alive.

  He hoped the former.

  Tapping the animal with his foot, nothing happened. He kicked harder, but the animal didn’t move.

  ‘It’s dead. But there’s blood here on the ground and on the animal’s claws. He sure did someone some damage.’

  ‘Who’d you think it was?’ asked Clarke.

  ‘You ask some damn fool questions! How the hell would I know?’

  ‘That pelt would fetch a few dollars,’ Clarke said.

  ‘Oh, so you know how to skin a cat?’ Adams said derisively.

  ‘Well, not exactly, but it can’t be that difficult,’ Clarke said defensively.

  ‘Yeah, sure.’ Adams snorted.

  ‘OK, OK, it was just an idea.’ Clarke looked peeved.

  ‘Let’s get moving. The tracks lead this way.’ He pointed north-west. ‘There’s still four riders, and one of them knows this terrain well,’ Adams said.

  Taking a final look at the cougar, Clarke reluctantly dug his heels into his mount and followed Adams.

  Within fifteen minutes, they emerged back onto the trail to Cannon Falls.

  ‘Can’t be much further now,’ Clarke said.

  ‘Can’t be that close, otherwise they wouldn’t have bedded down for the night,’ Adams said.

&nb
sp; ‘There’s their tracks, still four of ’em.’ Clarke pointed out. ‘They don’t seem to be in much of a hurry.’

  Suddenly a shot broke the peaceful silence. It wasn’t that far away. Then another. Both shots told Clarke and Adams they were rifles, probably Sharps.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Adams took out his army issue telescope and scanned the area ahead. ‘There’s two fellas about two hundred yards down the trail. There’s no tracks here, so they must have come from town,’ Adams said.

  ‘Can you see what they were shootin’ at?’ Clarke asked.

  ‘Well, it sure as hell wasn’t us. As I guessed, they’re both holding Sharps,’ Adams replied, and he peered at the area where the two riders were looking.

  ‘Well, I’ll be,’ Adams said. ‘If it ain’t a small herd of buffalo! Must be a half mile away at least, and they got one.’

  ‘They headin’ for it yet?’ Clarke asked.

  ‘They sure are,’ Adams replied. ‘Let’s get going, they ain’t interested in us.’

  Adams and Clarke walked their animals slowly and silently along the trail, not wanting to attract any attention.

  But the stampeding herd forced them to change tactics, for they had veered west, heading towards the trail – and them!

  Immediately, the two buffalo hunters turned and chased the terrified animals, their Sharps firing as they galloped full pelt after their prey.

  ‘Let’s turn back a-ways, with any luck the herd will pass us by. I just hope those two fellas don’t start shooting at us!’ They both reined their horses around and galloped back the way they had come.

  The herd was closing in on them, thick dust filled the air as the heavy animals’ hoofs pounded the arid ground.

  The noise made was like thunder. Although there were only twenty or thirty animals, they made the ground tremble as they galloped towards the track.

  Then it seemed that luck was on their side. The herd changed track once more, heading north at a furious pace, still followed by the hunters.

  Clarke and Adams reined in and watched the chase. The dust was choking, but lessened as the herd got further away.

  Breathing in the dust made both men cough and spit into the sand before pulling up their bandannas. They took deep breaths, mainly of relief.

  ‘That was too close for comfort,’ Clarke said and, lowering his bandanna, took a long drink from his canteen. Adams reached into his saddlebag and took out a bottle of bourbon. Taking out the cork with his teeth and holding it in his left hand, he lifted the bottle to his lips, taking three or four deep gulps before passing it to Clarke who, still coughing, shook his head.

  Adams replaced the cork and put the bottle back in his saddlebag.

  ‘Well, let’s get moving. I can’t even see or hear them damn buffalo, so they’ll be well gone, but we need to keep our eyes open. OK?’

  The sun was at its highest, and the heat was building up as the two men rode towards Cannon Falls. Their animals were coated in a sheen of sweat – as were both men. Mirages ahead showed lakes of cool, clear water, only to disappear the nearer they got and then reappear further ahead. The more water they thought they’d seen, the thirstier they became.

  ‘Damn, I hope this town ain’t much further. How much water you got?’ Clarke asked.

  ‘ ’Bout half a canteen, as well as half a bottle of bourbon,’ Adams said.

  ‘I got about the same. But I’m resistin’ takin’ a drink as long as I can,’ Clarke said.

  They slowed their galloping animals down to a trot; the last thing they needed was for them to die of exhaustion.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Adams sounded confident. ‘I’m sure Cannon Falls is no more than half an hour away. We’ll be OK.’

  ‘Yeah, but we can’t just ride in in broad daylight. We’ve no idea who might already be there,’ Clarke replied.

  Suddenly their mounts’ ears pricked up and they neighed softly.

  ‘I gotta feeling they smell something,’ Adams said. They rounded a sharp bend in the trail, passing huge rocks and there, to their right, was a stream.

  Adams patted his horse’s neck. ‘Good boy. Good boy.’

  Without being led, the animals headed straight for the small stream, which was obviously, during the winter months, a raging torrent of water, turning this small stream into a dangerous river.

  Both men dismounted, emptied their canteens and refilled them with the cool water and hung them back on the pommels of their saddles. Cupping their hands, they scooped water into their parched mouths, splashing the water over their heads. The feeling was one of relief as well as refreshing.

  Clarke removed his boots and sank his feet into the water, then filled his Stetson with water and poured it over his head.

  ‘Boy, that sure feels good.’ He grinned.

  ‘You look like a drowned rat,’ Adams smirked. Nevertheless, he followed suit and breathed out a sigh of contentment.

  ‘Seeing as how we gotta wait for nightfall before we enter Cannon Falls, why don’t we take a rest here for a while? It’s too hot to ride,’ Adams said.

  ‘Makes sense to me. I ain’t felt this cool for a long time.’ Clarke grinned.

  The two men lay back on the ground and pulled their Stetsons over their faces and within minutes were asleep.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chuck, accompanied by Sally, returned to the sheriff’s office with plates of food and two pots of coffee.

  ‘That smells mighty fine,’ Reuben said, suddenly feeling really hungry.

  ‘Take a plate through to Anderson,’ Reuben said, ‘don’t want him dying on us.’ He grinned.

  ‘ ’Bout time, too,’ Anderson grumbled.

  ‘You’re lucky to get anything,’ Chuck said, and slid the plate below the bars of the cell.

  ‘No coffee?’ Anderson muttered.

  ‘There’s water there, drink that,’ Chuck replied and left the cell room.

  After they’d finished eating, Reuben spoke up.

  ‘We need to guard Anderson until the sheriff returns. I reckon we take shifts. I don’t trust that man any more than I could spit him, sorry ma’am,’ Reuben said.

  ‘It’s Sally, and I agree with you. The whole town could be in danger if any of the gang find out where he is.’ She stopped speaking and looked sheepishly at the floor.

  ‘I don’t think there are many – if any – of the gang left. Except of course, Frank and Jesse James, and I doubt they’d give a damn about Anderson. It would be too risky for them.’

  ‘I agree,’ Ely piped up. ‘Last report I had was that Frank and Jesse were heading for the Dakotas; they ain’t likely to return.’

  ‘Nevertheless, we still need to be vigilant,’ Reuben said. ‘I’ll take first watch, two hours apiece. That OK with you fellas?’

  ‘OK,’ said Chuck. ‘I’ll check out the hotel for you, Ely.’

  ‘No need,’ Sally said. ‘I have rooms above the Eatery. It’s close by and you’re welcome to stay. I’ll charge the town,’ she smiled.

  ‘Thank you kindly, ma’am – sorry – Sally,’ Reuben said, and he was sure he was blushing.

  Adams and Clarke woke up in the late afternoon. It was stifling hot. The heat from the sun was now rising from the parched ground. Even the small stream felt warm on their feet.

  Both men splashed water on their sweaty faces, then dunked their Stetsons in the stream and put them on.

  Both horses were quite content, grazing on the grass that grew beside the stream, occasionally taking a drink.

  ‘What time you reckon it is?’ Clarke asked.

  Adams squinted as he looked up at the sky. The sun’s position had moved to the west. ‘I’d say around four o’clock,’ Adams replied.

  ‘Jeez! That means at least another two hours before the sun sets,’ Clarke grumbled.

  ‘Let’s get a fire going, and have some coffee. I still got beans and bacon and what’s left of the bread. That’ll take up an hour or so, then we can get closer to Cannon Falls. An
d wait.’

  ‘Let’s hope some of the gang are there,’ Clarke said.

  ‘Well, if they ain’t, we’ll ride on. Maybe hold up a stage or a train. You never know, we might be better off on our own anyways.’ Adams didn’t sound convinced as he said those words, but Clarke seemed to take that as a positive sign.

  ‘Grab some kindling and let’s get this fire going,’ Adams said. ‘I’ll get the gear together.’

  It didn’t take long to get the fire started. Adams placed the coffee pot over the flames and waited for the water to boil before adding the Arbuckles. When the coffee was steaming hot, he got the frying pan out, layered it with bacon and it began to sizzle, the aroma making both men hungry.

  Adams turned the bacon, then added the beans. They sat back and sipped at the coffee until the food was ready, then both ate from the frying pan.

  Finally, they scraped out the fat with bread and drank more coffee.

  ‘That’s better,’ Adams said. ‘Let’s break camp and ride on aways.’

  ‘OK, at least we’ve only got a couple of hours to wait now,’ Clarke almost beamed with anticipation.

  They saddled up and set off, following the trail of the four horsemen ahead of them, hoping they were heading for Cannon Falls.

  They broke into a canter, as the land becoming flatter and greener. Cottonwoods and Joshua trees seemed to thrive here, but there was still the odd cactus and scrub to avoid.

  After a few more minutes, they slowed to a trot and Adams called out ‘Woah! I see smoke ahead.’ Taking out his army ’scope, he soon saw a small shack with smoke billowing from the chimney.

  ‘That Cannon Falls?’ Clarke asked.

  ‘Nope, just a shack.’

  ‘You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?’ Clarke said.

  ‘Oh, yeah. Time we had ourselves a little fun.’ Adams gave an evil grin.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  It took Clarke and Adams only 10 minutes to reach the shack.

  ‘Now let me do the talking,’ Adams said. ‘You just keep shtum.’