Ralph Compton Death Along the Cimarron Read online

  “All right, listen to me,” Eddie Ray said, raising a hand, his voice sounding a little anxious. “I knew this fellow was new at being a lawman—he said so himself. I also figured it had been a while since they’d seen one another, the way they talked about it. But, Buck, Duggin here was talking about getting together with this man later on ... catching up on old times, they was saying.” Now Eddie Ray turned an accusing gaze on Danielle.

  “Is that true, Duggin?” asked Buck Hite. “You plan on riding with us and at the same time being good friends with the law?”

  “Yep, you’re damn right I do,” said Danielle. She paused for just a second to make sure her words sank in. “I’d make friends with every lawman in this country if I could. The more information I can learn from lawmen, the better it is for me and anybody I ride with, the way I look at it.”

  Staring at her intently, Buck Hite finally offered a slight smile. “Pretty damn smart, Duggin,” he said. He shot Eddie Ray Moon a glance. Clifford Reed and Fat Cyrus backed their horses a cautious step away from Eddie Ray’s.

  “Buck, I did what I thought was best for all of us!” Eddie Ray said quickly.

  “You’ve been on a slow bum against this man ever since he beat the shit out’n you. Now whatever you think you got to settle with him, you do it now and get it done.”

  “Buck, I—”

  Buck cut him off. “Because we’ve got serious business to take care of in Cimarron I can’t have this kind of schoolkid bickering going on between grown men!” His voice grew more angry as he spoke.

  “Buck, if you’ll just let me explain,” said Eddie Ray, growing more worried, especially now that he saw the mare take a step closer to him. Danielle had let her hand relax for a moment, but now she poised it again. “I felt like everybody here ought to know that Duggin—”

  “There ain’t nothing to explain, Eddie Ray,” Buck shouted. He turned his stare at Danielle. “Duggin, do you think you can get close enough to that lawman tonight to find out how much silver and cash is laying in that bank?”

  Danielle shrugged. “If Eddie Ray didn’t put him on guard about what he tells me, yeah, I can get that close.... He trusts me.”

  A tense silence passed as Buck looked from one man to the next, then said, “See? That’s called using our heads. Cherokee Earl is the one who’s supposed to know how much money there is in there. But, boys, what if he’s wrong? Or what if he’s dead by now and ain’t even showed up?” Buck raised an eyebrow, a gesture of wisdom. “It never hurts to know what a lawman’s got to say.” He turned back to Danielle. “Any chance this lawman could be cut in with us?”

  “That’s a thought,” said Danielle, knowing better. “The thing is, what if I bring it up and he turns it down?”

  “Yeah, good thinking,” said Buck. He nodded toward a clearing ahead alongside the trail. “Let’s camp out up there. We’ll ride into town tonight. While Clifford and Fat Cyrus and me look for Earl and his boys, you keep Eddie Ray with you, find out what you can from the deputy. Does that sound all right to you, Duggin?”

  “That sounds fine to me, Buck,” Danielle said.

  From beneath the shelter of her broad hat brim, she saw a faint smile of satisfaction come to Eddie Ray Moon’s face. Danielle understood why. Even though Danny Duggin had just gained some important respect from Buck Hite, it was still clear to her that Buck didn’t trust Danny Duggin completely. He was leaving Duggin and Eddie Ray Moon together, knowing that Moon still had enough of a grudge to keep a close eye on every move Duggin made. So be it, Danielle said to herself. Once in Cimarron she’d just have to find a way to shake loose from Eddie Ray.

  All of this had happened earlier in the day. Now, after thinking about it for a few moments, Danielle stood up from lying back against her saddle in the thin shade of a cottonwood tree and dusted the seat of her trousers. After spending the afternoon resting the horses and themselves, Buck Hite and his gang were ready to ride the rest of the way to town. Eddie Ray seemed to have forgotten the near altercation between himself and Danny Duggin as they stood side by side, saddling their mounts and making ready for the trail. When the men gathered at the edge of the clearing, Buck Hite sat chewing a mouthful of tobacco. He spat and ran a hand across his lips.

  “Boys, when we get into Cimarron, remember why you’re there. We want to find Cherokee Earl and his men, nothing else. If you need to wet your whistles a little, that’s fine by me. But remember this well.” He raised a gloved finger for emphasis. “You’re not there to chase whores, play poker, or get blind staggering drunk. If you do, just expect that I’m going to put a bullet in you once we’re out of town. We’re there on business.” He spat another stream, then turned his horse to the trail, the others falling in behind him single file. “Don’t nobody make me say it again.”

  The men all nodded silently among themselves.

  The last few miles into Cimarron went quickly, but by the time their horses gathered on the edge of town, darkness had fallen across a starlit sky. The sound of a tinny piano danced along the street from the direction of Lambert’s Tavern, a building attached to the right side of the St. James Hotel. The tavern’s front doors were wide open, lantern light spilling out onto a dozen or more horses standing at hitchrails and hitchposts out front. A woman’s shrill laugh resounded playfully along the street.

  “I’m glad you said it was all right to wet our whistles, Buck,” said Fat Cyrus. He licked his lips. “But suppose if I went out back with a whore only wasn’t gone for longer than say ... three or four minutes? Would that be okay?”

  “Good God, Cyrus,” said Clifford Reed, shaking his head. “You ought not admit something like that.”

  “Like what?” Fat Cyrus looked confused. “I’m quick at most everything. A man ought to be proud how fast he can—”

  “Shut up, Cyrus!” Buck Hite barked, cutting him off. He turned his gaze to Clifford Reed. “Clifford, keep his mind on what he’s here for, or so help me...”

  “I’ll try, Buck,” said Clifford. “That’s all I can do.”

  “Duggin,” said Buck, turning to Danielle, “since you’re going to meet this deputy at the tavern, you and Eddie Ray get on over there. Clifford, you and Cyrus start making some rounds—restaurants, billiard halls, faro tables, wherever you might run into Earl and his boys. I’ll be laying back out of sight, keeping an eye on things.”

  Danielle and Eddie Ray Moon broke off from the others and rode their horses to Lambert’s Tavern. They stepped down from their saddles and tied their horses to one of the crowded hitchrails. At the open front doors of the tavern, they both stopped dead still when two pistol shots exploded from the long, crowded bar inside.

  “Don’t turn your back on me, Mr. Deputy, you cowardly polecat!” shouted a raging young man with his pistol smoking in his hand. Danielle stood transfixed, seeing drinkers clear away from the bar, leaving only Tuck Carlyle facing the young gunman, who had three more gunmen standing behind him. The three spread out slowly, taking a fighting position.

  “Oops!” Eddie Ray chuckled beside Danielle. “Well, Duggin, looks like your lawdog friend is about to become your ex-lawdog friend.”

  Without answering, Danielle took a step inside the open doors and spread her duster back behind her pistol butt. The piano had fallen abruptly silent; the tavern customers stood tense and expectant. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything, Deputy Carlyle,” Danielle said, using her strongest man’s voice.

  Behind her, Eddie Ray Moon whispered, “If you’ll just excuse me, Duggin. He’s your friend, not mine.”

  Danielle heard Moon’s boots hurry away. At the bar, Tuck Carlyle said, without taking his eyes off the gunmen facing him, “Not at all, Danny. In fact, I was just wishing you’d pop by here, spread a little laughter my way.” His voice was dead serious in spite of his dark irony.

  “That’s what I do best,” said Danielle. She stepped farther into the tavern, then stopped fifteen feet from the gunmen and plated her boots shoulder-width apart, her hat l
ow across her forehead, hiding her face.

  “This ain’t your concern,” said the young gunman, his hand seeming to get a little nervous now that someone had tipped the odds a little. The three men behind him looked at Danielle. They too seemed suddenly put off by having the deputy in front of them and now a lone gunman taking off his right glove slowly, one finger at a time, behind them. They noted how the big tied-down Colt on the lone gunman’s hip glinted in the light of the many lanterns flickering around the tavern.

  “Now that makes me feel unwelcome,” said Danielle.

  “You ain’t welcome!” the young gunman raged. “Now get out, or die here!” He half-turned to face Danielle, something that even his friends behind him knew was a bad mistake: standing that close to a man he’d just challenged and then turning to face another gun halfway across the floor.

  “I won’t be doing either tonight,” said Danielle, her voice strong, as if tempered by iron. She saw the slightest move among the three gunmen. Two of them reached for their guns at once. At the same time, she saw the gunman in front of Tuck start to cock his smoking pistol. But she paid him no mind. Instead, when her pistol streaked up from her holster, she threw her shots at the other two. Her shots fired almost as one, the first snapping the gun from the man’s hand in a spray of blood and broken metal. Her second shot nailed the other man in his right shoulder and slammed him back against the bar.

  “Jesus!” The third man bolted across the floor and burst through the rear door, his boots pounding loudly until they faded into the night. On the floor at Tuck Carlyle’s feet, the first gunman lay in a crumpled heap, his hat gone from the top of his head, replaced by a bloody knot the size of a duck egg. Tuck stood over the man with his pistol in his hand, having knocked the young man cold with the barrel.

  Danielle walked to the bar with her pistol still cocked and ready. She looked at the other two gunmen as she spoke to Tuck Carlyle. “What about these two? Do you want them in jail or out of town?”

  “Out of town will have to do,” said Tuck. “The sheriff’s gone for a few days. I haven’t jailed anybody yet, and I’m not sure what to do.” He gave Danielle a bemused look. “Sounds foolish, don’t it?”

  “Yep, a little,” said Danielle. “But I suppose everybody has a first time for everything.” She and Tuck looked at the two men.

  “Get Rance up from here and get him out of town,” said Tuck. “If I see any of you again tonight, you’ll all go to jail.”

  “What about my shot hand?” The gunman held up his wounded hand, blood running down between his thumb and finger, dripping onto the floor.

  “What about it?” Danielle said coldly.

  His eyes were wide with fear, anger, and pain. “I need a doctor or something! Damn! You can’t just shoot a man and run him out of town with no medical attention! I could bleed to death!”

  As he spoke, Danielle reached out, untied his bandanna, and yanked it from around his neck, stirring up dust. She flicked it once to get the rest of the dust off, then laid it across his wounded hand. “Wrap it tight until the bleeding stops.”

  “That ain’t no way to treat a wound!” the young man bellowed.

  “Keep running your mouth, and I’ll see to it that you do bleed to death,” Danielle said. She turned to the other gunman, who stood with his back against the bar for support, a hand pressed to his bleeding shoulder. His face was stark white.

  “What about you?” Danielle asked. “Are you able to ride, or are you going to need a doctor too?”

  “I’m able to ride,” he said defiantly. “Just let me out of here. I don’t want your help.”

  “Good,” said Danielle. “You can help get this one out of here.” She and Tuck lifted the knocked-out gunman, who was now reviving, from the floor and stood him between his two wounded friends. He wobbled back and forth on spindly legs, looking unsure of himself, of who he was or where he’d been.

  “If you come back here threatening me, boy,” said Tuck, “I’m going to forget how stupid you are and go ahead and put a bullet in you.” He looked closely at the young man, then gave up, realizing it was useless talking to him right then. “Get him out of here,” Tuck said to the other two.

  As the wounded, crestfallen gunman was dragged out through the front doors, Tuck turned to Danielle and said, “Much obliged, Danny. If you hadn’t showed up when you did, I’d have sure had my hands full.”

  “Glad I could help, Tuck,” said Danielle. Looking around to make sure Eddie Ray or none of the others were present, Danielle added in a lowered voice, “Let me tell you while I can. These men I’m riding with are here to rob the bank.” Seeing Tuck’s expression turn concerned, Danielle went on. “Just listen for now while they’re not around. The men I’m hunting are Cherokee Earl Muir and his gang. They have a hostage, a woman they took from her home near Haley Springs. Her name is Ellen Waddell—”

  “Does she have red hair?” Tuck asked.

  “Yes, she does,” said Danielle. “Have you seen her?”

  “I believe so,” said Tuck. “She’s traveling with a man who calls himself Fred Bartlett. There’s two men riding with them, but I didn’t get a good look at their faces.”

  “Fred Bartlett, my eye,” said Danielle. “I bet that’s Cherokee Earl. Do you know where they went?”

  “No,” said Tuck. “I even went searching for them, but I never came up with a trace of them. It seems like they’ve dropped off the face of the earth.”

  “They’ll be back, Tuck—you can count on it. They’ve been leaving towns in ruins from here to Haley Springs ... and they mean to rob the bank here. They know there’s a big silver exchange going on.”

  “Then we’ve got to stop them,” said Tuck.

  “Yes, but we’ve also got to save Ellen Waddell,” said Danielle. “If we jump too soon and tip our hands to the men I’m riding with, that poor woman will likely end up dead.”

  “All right, Danny, I’m backing you,” said Tuck. “You call the play.”

  “We wait until the day they come in here all together. Then we take them all down at once. Meanwhile, I’ll keep an eye on things, find out where the woman is so we can free her once they’re all taken care of.”

  “Then that’s how we’ll do it, Danny,” said Tuck. “I’ll wait for your call.”

  “Thanks, Tuck, I knew I could count on you.” Danielle hesitated, then said in a gentler tone, “And, Tuck ... I hate telling you this, but two of these men killed our old friend Stick.”

  “Oh, no, Danny, not Stick,” Tuck said, his grief showing instantly. “That man was like a daddy to me, Danny.”

  “I know he was, Tuck.” Danielle hung her head for a moment. “Stick was on the trail with me, searching for these men after they stole the Waddell woman. But he and I started off looking for you. He told me what happened to your wife—I’m sorry, Tuck—and he told me you were somewhere drinking your brains out. We were coming to get you, see to it you straightened out. I’m glad to see that you’ve apparently already taken care of that.”

  Tuck looked pained and ashamed. “Yes, I’ve gotten over drinking my brains out.... But the other part, losing my wife, is something I doubt I’ll ever get over. It hurts just as bad today as it did the day I lost her.” He struggled silently for a second to keep from breaking down. “Something’s missing inside me, Danny. I’m managing to get by without the whiskey, but that’s just pure stubborn pride that keeps me going. I couldn’t stand thinking that whiskey was going to kill me. So I’m fighting hard.” He took on a determined expression and let out a tight breath. “But listen to me going on about my misfortune ... while some poor woman is being held by outlaws.”

  “Don’t worry, Tuck. We’ll get her freed,” said Danielle. “And once all this is over, you and I are going to have a long talk.”

  “About what, Danny?” Tuck asked.

  “About me,” said Danielle, aching to throw off her hat, shake out her hair, and tell him everything. “There’s something I’ve needed to tell you
for the longest time .. just seems like there’s always something else going on to prevent it.”

  “Danny? Are you all right?” Tuck asked.

  “Yeah, Tuck, I’m all right. Now that I’m here, I’m fine. The rest will have to wait till later.” Danielle had caught herself and settled her mind to the task at hand. “We’ll be talking about it real soon, I promise.”

  Chapter 18

  Out of consideration for Tuck Carlyle and his battle with the bottle, Danielle did not drink any whiskey or beer. Instead, she drank the same thing Tuck drank: a cup of coffee from a fresh pot the bartender kept behind the bar. No sooner had the tinny piano started again and the smoke from Danielle’s Colt drifted away than Eddie Ray Moon came through the front door of the tavern, a sheepish look on his face. “I heard the shooting,” he said, sidling up to her. “Thought I better come see how things turned out ”

  “As you can see,” said Danielle, “we managed to get by without you.” Tuck Carlyle had stepped out the rear door to relieve himself. Offering a wry smile, and to show there were no hard feelings, Danielle asked, “Can I buy you a drink, Eddie Ray?”

  Eddie Ray rubbed his lips, looking at the long row of bottles standing against the wall behind the bar. “I could sure enough stand one.”

  Danielle gestured the bartender to pour Eddie Ray a shot of whiskey. As they stood watching the glass being filled, Eddie Ray looked at Danielle’s coffee cup. “I see you ain’t drinking nothing yourself.”

  “That’s right,” said Danielle, not wanting to even try to explain why to the likes of Eddie Ray Moon. “While you were gone, did you see Cherokee Earl or any of his men?”

  “Not a hair,” said Eddie Ray. He raised the shot glass to his lips and drained it in a single gulp. He released a deep whiskey hiss. “But they’ll show, if they ain’t been killed or caught.”