Reuben's Revenge Page 11

  ‘What the hell does shtum mean?’ Clarke asked.

  ‘Jesus H! It means keep your mouth shut. OK?’

  ‘Then why didn’t you just say that, ’stead of usin’ them there fancy words all the time,’ Clarke said sulkily.

  ‘OK, OK. Just let me do the talking, all right?’ Adams said, hiding a grin. There was nothing Adams liked more than winding his partner up.

  Adams dismounted and knocked on the front door. ‘Hello, the house,’ he called.

  He heard footsteps as the door was opened.

  Adams removed his Stetson, and apologized for calling at so late an hour, but then added, ‘We’re looking for Cannon Falls, ma’am, and wondered if you could give us directions?’

  The woman, he guessed, was in her thirties, with auburn-coloured hair tied back in a pony tail. She had a trim body and dark-brown eyes. Dressed in a simple, plain dress, she wore no ring or make-up.

  Nevertheless, she was an attractive woman, not a beauty, but Adams thought, dressed and made up, she’d be quite a catch.

  ‘Just follow the trail, mister. Cannon Falls is three miles due west. You can’t miss it.’ She went to close the door, but Adams stopped her and asked if they might water their animals.

  The woman hesitated before replying. She knew the unwritten law of allowing strangers to water their animals. After all, without a horse you were a dead man.

  ‘The trough’s over by the barn,’ she eventually replied.

  Adams replaced his Stetson and tipped it to the woman just as a man entered the hallway brandishing a Winchester.

  Without hesitating, Clarke drew his pistol and fired, hitting the man in the chest, sending him flying six feet through the air before he landed with a thump against a table.

  The woman screamed and ran to the fallen man.

  ‘What in hell did you do that for?’ Adams demanded.

  ‘I thought he was gonna shoot you.’

  ‘You idiot. I was standing in front of the woman. How could he shoot me?’

  ‘I was only tryin’ to help,’ Clarke said, crestfallen.

  ‘You killed my brother. You killed him.’ The woman screamed again.

  Adams’ face hardened as he approached the woman. He grabbed her and dragged her towards where he thought the bedroom was.

  She struggled violently against the taller, stronger man, but his grip held. She realized her left arm was free and felt his holster. She stopped struggling.

  ‘That’s better,’ Adams said.

  As he said that, she grabbed the grip of his Colt, pulled back the hammer and fired off a shot through his holster.

  The bullet seared Adams’ leg and went through his right foot.

  It was his turn to scream. Before he fell to the floor, he caught the woman’s face hard with an iron fist which knocked her unconscious.

  Clarke immediately dismounted and ran into the house to find his partner lying on the floor, gripping his leg, blood seeping through his jeans and right boot.

  ‘What the hell. . . ?’

  ‘She shot me, what d’you think. With my own damn gun. We need to torch this place and vamoose. Can’t leave any witnesses. Find me something I can use as a crutch,’ Adams said through gritted teeth.

  ‘You’re in luck,’ Clarke said. ‘There’s a walkin’ stick hangin’ on the door. Shall I fetch it?’

  ‘No, I’ll hop over there, shall I? Course you should fetch it.’ Idiot, Adams said to himself.

  ‘There you go,’ Clarke said, handing the stick to Adams.

  ‘Give me a hand here to stand,’ Adams demanded.

  Once on his good foot, Adams made for his horse. He mounted up with some difficulty, but found his right foot and leg felt slightly better. Getting his boot off was painful, but he had to see the damage. Luckily, Adams thought, if you could call it luck, the bullet had gone straight through, right between his big toe and the one next to it.

  ‘Smash those oil-lamps and then get the hell outta there,’ Adams shouted.

  ‘What about the woman?’ Clarke asked.

  ‘What about her? She shot me. She dies.’

  Clarke did as he was told, spreading the oil around the front room, leaving a trail to the front door. He struck a Lucifer and tossed it on the oil-soaked wooden veranda.

  Rushing to his horse, he mounted up and pulled back to a safer distance. Both men watched as the flames crept forwards until the whole house was engulfed in flame.

  They heard the screams of the woman, and shots as the dead man’s Winchester exploded in the heat. Slugs were flying around until the gun was empty.

  The screams got louder until the woman emerged from the house. Fire had enveloped her and she took no more than three steps before she fell to the ground.

  Dead.

  The two men were momentarily horrified at the sight they were witnessing, but Adams wheeled his horse around and yelled, ‘Let’s get outta here.’

  Reuben had spent his time looking through the Wanted posters in the sheriff’s desk, as well as those pinned to the wall when the door burst open. A man dressed in a black frock coat, white shirt with a bootlace tie, and black trousers, entered. Reuben thought he looked around sixty, but his ruddy complexion showed he spent a lot of time outside.

  ‘Who the hell are you? And where’s the sheriff?’ the man barked.

  ‘Fishing with the mayor,’ Reuben replied calmly.

  ‘I’m the mayor and I ain’t seen hide nor hair of the sheriff today,’ the man said.

  ‘Well, where the hell can he be?’ Reuben asked as he stared at the mayor.

  At that point, a bellow came from the cells at the back of the office. ‘I need water!’

  ‘Who you got locked up back there?’ the mayor asked.

  ‘Bloody Bill Anderson,’ Reuben replied. ‘Waiting for the sheriff and the circuit judge.’

  The mayor’s jaw dropped at the mention of Anderson’s name. ‘I’m Burt Douglas,’ he held his hand out.

  Reuben took it and they shook. ‘Name’s Reuben Chisholm.’

  ‘What’s your interest in Anderson?’ the mayor asked.

  ‘You mean apart from the fact that he’s an ex-Quantrill raider, murderer and rapist?’ Reuben didn’t have to say anything else.

  Ely Watson rushed into the office. ‘There’s a fire!’ he almost shouted.

  ‘In town?’ Reuben asked.

  ‘Nope, I reckon two or three miles east of town,’ Ely said.

  ‘Sounds like the Turners’ place. That’s the only homestead east of here,’ the mayor said.

  ‘I’ll get Doc Mackay,’ Ely said.

  ‘I’ll round up some men and we’ll ride out there,’ the mayor said, and both men rushed out.

  ‘You coming, Reuben?’ Ely asked as he came back into the office.

  ‘No. I ain’t leaving Anderson. It could be a diversion to break him out – again.’

  Ely nodded and ran to the doc’s place.

  Reuben grabbed hold of a Winchester, making sure it was loaded, and laid it across his lap, behind the desk. Ten minutes later the sound of pounding hoofs passed the office as a small group of men made their way east to the Turner residence.

  Clarke was the first to hear the hoof sounds approaching them. ‘Riders comin’,’ he said quietly to Adams. ‘Better get off the trail. Lucky there ain’t no moon, they won’t see us in the pitch black. I guess they saw the flames.’

  Both men turned right and rode about a hundred yards off the trail, making sure their animals didn’t panic or make a noise.

  The riders quickly passed their position, and Adams and Clarke waited for five minutes, then re-joined the trail to Cannon Falls.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The flames had died down to about two or three feet high by the time the riders reached the burned-out house.

  The brick chimney collapsed into the scorched remains, sending sparks high into the air and the flames rose higher as it found new things to burn.

  Doc Mackay dismounted and walked as clo
se as he could to the body he saw on the steps of the veranda. The heat was too intense to get nearer than ten feet, but he looked at the charred remains of Beth Turner. He almost vomited and backed away.

  ‘That’s Beth,’ he said. ‘I guess Sam is still inside.’

  ‘Well,’ the mayor said, ‘there’s nothing we can do here until the heat dies down a bit, then we’ll cover Beth with a tarp, and tomorrow take her body into town.’

  ‘Maybe we’ll find, what’s his name again?’ Ely asked.

  ‘Sam,’ the mayor replied. ‘Sam Turner.’

  ‘I’ll stay here for a while,’ Ely said, ‘it’s still too hot to get a tarp over her, so I’ll wait and join you fellas in town later on.’

  The men agreed with Ely and rode back to town at a leisurely pace, each man silent with his own thoughts.

  Clarke and Adams reached the outskirts of Cannon Falls, but had no intention of riding in just yet.

  They rode around the town and waited on the northern edge where they had a good view of the layout of the place. The main street, which ran right through the centre of town, was brightly lit by kerosene lanterns, only the smaller streets and alleyways were in darkness.

  Adams was peering through his ’scope along Main Street.

  ‘What d’you see, Alex?’ asked Clarke.

  ‘What I don’t see is any people. Seems the whole town is deserted.’

  ‘Well,’ Clarke said, peering at his Hunter, ‘it is after ten o’clock. I reckon most folk are in bed by now, this being a farmin’ area.’

  ‘True,’ Adams agreed. ‘But it seems strange that no one is about. Even the saloon is closed.’

  ‘Well, that does seem a bit strange,’ Clarke agreed.

  ‘Hang on,’ Adams said. ‘Riders approaching, there’s six of them at least. They just dismounted and hitched up outside the sheriff’s office.’

  ‘One of the men has just left the office. He’s carrying a doc’s bag. That’s who I gotta see. My foot is damn painful.’

  ‘You see where he’s headed?’ Clarke asked.

  ‘Sure do. Almost opposite the sheriff’s office. There must be a back way. Come on, let’s find out.’ Adams pulled on the reins to turn his horse to the left. Clarke followed.

  ‘They’re both dead, Reuben,’ the mayor said. ‘Burned alive by the looks of things. Ely has stayed behind so he can put a tarp over Beth’s body, so the night critters don’t get what’s left of her. It was too hot to get near her.’

  ‘Sounds strangely familiar to me,’ Reuben said. ‘The two men I’m after are ex-Quantrill men. William Clarke and Alexander Adams. They burned down my neighbour’s property – and then mine. My wife was at home, alone. I was too late to save her.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that, Reuben. I truly am,’ the mayor said, and removed his bowler hat in a sign of respect.

  ‘I think they were following us, thinking we were part of the James-Younger gang. They must have tracked us here,’ Reuben said. ‘I had a feeling we were being followed.’

  ‘We better get some more men ready,’ the mayor said. ‘There ain’t no way they’re gonna ruin this township.’

  ‘We got six Winchesters and two scatter guns here, plus our own weapons. If it is Adams and Clarke,’ Reuben said, ‘we can expect them at any time, now it’s dark.’

  Reuben stood and checked the cell. Anderson was sound asleep.

  The mayor ran off to wake up some more men, and while he was gone, Ely returned.

  ‘I got her covered up, and used the rocks from the chimney to make sure she’d be safe,’ Ely said.

  Reuben brought Ely up to date.

  ‘You better warn the doc. His services may well be needed,’ Reuben added.

  ‘He at home?’ Ely asked.

  ‘Yeah, he left about forty-five minutes ago,’ Reuben said.

  ‘I’ll go get him,’ Ely said, and left the office.

  Clarke and Adams entered Cannon Falls from the west. The alleyway they chose ran behind the doctor’s house.

  ‘Perfect!’ Adams said.

  They hitched their horses to the rear fence and fed them with the oats and barley they had left. ‘That should keep them quiet,’ Clarke remarked.

  As they reached the rear door, they heard a loud banging coming from the front of the house.

  The two men stood stock still. Waiting.

  The doc, unused as he was to horseback riding, had gone straight to bed and heard absolutely nothing. The banging on the front door stopped, and Adams wondered if whoever it was would try the back door. So again, they waited.

  After five minutes, they realized whoever had been banging on the front door, wasn’t coming around the back. Clarke forced the back door open. There was a splintering of wood, but it wasn’t loud enough to attract any attention.

  Once inside the dark house it was easy to find the doctor. His snoring would wake the dead!

  Clarke cocked his handgun and rested the barrel on the doctor’s head.

  ‘Time to wake up, old man. You got some doctoring to do here,’ Clarke grated.

  Doc Mackay’s eyes snapped open and he stared at the bearded figure leaning over him, gun in hand.

  ‘You pull that trigger and you’ll get no doctorin’,’ he said calmly.

  Clarke released the hammer and put the gun back in its holster.

  ‘OK? My pal here done shot hisself in the foot; damn fool forgot to put the safety on,’ Clarke said, surprising Adams that he had the sense to make up a good story.

  ‘Pass me my dressin’ gown,’ the doc said, as he sat up.

  ‘Strange,’ Ely said as he entered the sheriff’s office. ‘Can’t get any reply from the doc.’

  ‘He’s probably sound asleep,’ Reuben said as he walked to the front door. ‘He’s more used to his buggy than. . . .’ Reuben stopped in mid-sentence.

  ‘His light in the surgery has just been lit,’ Reuben said. ‘I could’ve sworn I saw two bearded men standing behind him as he closed the drapes.’

  ‘You think it’s Adams and Clarke?’ Ely asked.

  ‘I don’t think it is, I know it’s them! They must have sneaked round the back. Go find the mayor and get those men together. I’ll see if there are horses behind the doc’s place. If there are, I’ll lead them away so there’s no escape. Make sure two or three men get on the rooftops opposite and the rest take cover. I want no shooting until I say so. OK?’

  Ely left the office once more, and Reuben filled his Colt. Like most cowboys, he only loaded five bullets in his gun, leaving an empty chamber under the hammer. Satisfied, he grabbed a Winchester, cocked it, already having filled it with .45s, the same as his handgun.

  He moved towards the door and took a surreptitious look at the doctor’s house, making sure the drapes were still closed; then stealthily crossed Main Street and headed down an unlit alleyway, took a right-hand turn and saw two horses tied to the back fence. He unhooked both animals and mounted one, leading the other horse behind him.

  He walked the beasts to the end of the alleyway and across Main Street to the rear of the sheriff’s office, where he dismounted and tied the animals to a hitch rail.

  Reuben returned to the office and waited for Ely and however many men he and the mayor could round up. It was ten minute’s later when eight men crowded into the sheriff’s office and Reuben outlined his plan.

  They had to be careful and patient as the doc was involved, so there was to be no random shooting at the house. Reuben scanned the faces of the men and noted their weapons. He picked three men with Winchesters and told them to get on the roof of the jailhouse. One of them to stay there, and the other two to fan out onto other buildings left and right, with a good view of the doctor’s house.

  ‘I can’t stress enough how important it is that no one starts shooting until I give the order. These two men are ruthless killers and rapists, and they’ll think nothing of using the doc as a shield, or killing as many of you as they can.’ Reuben paused: ‘I’ve corralled their horses, so they can
’t escape. I’ll stand at the corner of the alleyway behind the doc’s house, and when I see them coming out, I’ll start shooting. That’s your signal to wait to see if they turn tail and use the front of the house. Is that clear?’

  All the men nodded, one or two had apprehension etched on their faces, but Reuben thought that natural for townsfolk who’d never been involved in such a situation.

  ‘The rest of you take cover on the boardwalk and keep your heads down, and whatever happens, don’t panic. OK, let’s move out.’

  Reuben then made his way back to the rear of the doctor’s house and waited in the shadows.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  ‘I’m gonna have to cut that boot off,’ the doctor said.

  ‘Hell no!’ Adams said. ‘Pull it off.’

  ‘That’ll hurt like hell,’ the doc replied, ‘but OK, if that’s what you want.’

  Doc Mackay reached into his big black bag and took out a bottle of laudanum. ‘Take a coupla swigs of this, it’ll ease the pain.’

  Adams gulped the liquid as if it were water.

  ‘Woah! Hold up there,’ the doc said. ‘That stuff is dangerous.’ He took the bottle back, and took out his whiskey bottle. Taking a swig himself, he then allowed Adams two quick gulps, before pouring some in the hole in Adams’ right boot.

  Adams gritted his teeth, but couldn’t stop a loud groan as the whiskey burned his wound.

  ‘You,’ the doc pointed at Clarke, ‘hold his shoulders down,’ and he handed Adams a length of leather. ‘Put this between your teeth. This is gonna sting a tad!’

  The medico grabbed the heel and toe of the boot and pulled. He pulled hard, and slowly the boot slid off the groaning man’s foot. Next came the sock. This was just as painful, as the dried blood had stuck the sock to his toes. The doctor poured some water over the sock to soften the blood. Then, in one swift move, pulled the sock free, and Clarke found it difficult to keep Adams still.

  ‘Well, that’s the worst part over. You’re lucky, young man,’ the doc said. ‘The bullet passed between your toes. No bones broken, or missin’ toes. Just flesh wounds. Soon have those bound and your foot bandaged up. You won’t be wearin’ a boot for a few weeks but if you’ve a spare sock, you can wear it.’