It
was early morning, mild and cool, but no rain. Marie noticed the Marshal’s
horse tied to the hitch rail in from of her store, but didn’t really think about
it as she unlocked the door to her general store. She and Sally Duffield
entered, only to stop short at the sight of the Marshal taking money from the
store register.
“Jack!
What are you doing?” asked Marie. She didn’t think she had ever been so
surprised at something her friend did. Jack had never taken anything from the
store. He had always paid for it or put it on his bill. Never had she ever
imagined he would take money from her cash drawer.
“Marshal?”
questioned Sally, just as surprised as Marie.
Jack
Craddock almost looked embarrassed at having been caught with his hand in the
till by Marie and Sally. With a sigh of exasperation, he causally drew the
revolver at his waist and waved it at them. “Now, Marie, you and Sally just
stay put and I won’ t have to shoot either of you.” Craddock’s gun was pointed
more at the floor than at the two women.
“S-s-shoot
us,” stuttered Sally in an exasperated way. The fact that the Marshal was
raiding the register still hadn’t sunk in.
Marie
could only stare in astonishment and disgust at the sight of her friend as he
robbed her store. She didn’t know what to do or say. Silently she watched as
Craddock stuffed the money into the pocket of his yellow slicker then ran out
the door.
“Get
back, he ordered curtly at several early morning customers crowding around the
door, trying to see what was going on. The Marshal jerked loose the reins
wrapped around the hitchrail and mounted his palomino. The horse pranced into
the middle of the street, eager and ready to run.
Wearing
a heavy black coat, the Canadian Mountie ran out from the office he and the
Marshal shared. “Craddock! I can’t let you do this,” he yelled.
Craddock
yelled back. “I won’t let you stop me, redbelly.” He raised his gun and fired.
Clive Bennett stopped in mid-stride and crumpled to the ground.
“No!”
screamed Marie as she ran to the Mountie, horrified at the sight of the blood
showing on the lawman’s shirt, under his coat. How could this be happening she
wondered? First Jack had robbed her, and now he had shot his friend Clive. Why,
oh why was Jack doing this. It was all she could do to keep from screaming as
she stared at first the unconscious Clive and then at the Marshal on his horse.
What else could go wrong? How much worse could it get?
Craddock
rammed his heals into the palomino’s sides causing the horse to leap into a
full gallop, heading south out of Bordertown.
***************
As
soon as Craddock rode out of the town, the Mountie regained consciousness
quickly. With Marie’s help, Bennett got to his feet, one hand clutching his
side, and stumbled back into the office. He slumped down onto the wooden bench.
He gritted his teeth against the pain. “The son-of-a-bitch actually shot me.”
Marie
tugged at the Mountie’s shirt trying to reveal the wound. Bennett was wearing a
checked flannel shirt rather than his red Mountie coat. It was soaked in blood,
but he didn’t seem to be that badly hurt. At least if his cussing was any
indication.
Some
of the townspeople pushed into the room, all asking questions and making
suggestions about what should be done.
The
banker, Wendell MacWherter, was the loudest. “Corporal Bennett, you have to do
something. You have to go after Craddock and arrest him. Bring him back to
stand trial”
“Yeah,”
agreed Zac Denny. “Craddock’s gone crazy; he should be caught, jailed, and
tried for robbery. I always knew he wasn’t as civic minded as he seemed to be.”
Others
echoed the saloonkeeper, some muttering about a lawman gone bad being the worse
kind of outlaw. No one seemed too concerned about how bad Clive might be hurt.
Marie
noticed the dejected boy standing beside her and Bennett. Turning to the crowd,
she demanded, “Get out of here. Give me some room to take care of the
Corporal.” Something about the lady doctor’s determined look and the sight of
the again almost unconscious Mountie caused the crowd to disperse. All accept
the boy.
“Why
did the Marshal do it?” he asked. “Why, Marie,”
“I
do not know, Willie. Help me get Clive into his room and in bed.”
With
the crowd gone, Clive was suddenly on his feet and stomping into his quarters
next to the office. He stripped of his coat, and popped buttons off his shirt,
as he ripped it off.
“He
shot me. Craddock actually shot me. He wasn’t supposed to do that.” Bennett
pulled open his undershirt and looked at the slight scrape across his ribs. It
was more of a burn, and barely bleeding, certainly not enough to account for
how bloody his shirt was.
Marie
turned to Willie. “Willie, go to my home and get my bag.” The boy hesitated.
“Please, Willie. Do as I ask and after I have taken care of Clive’s wound, we
will discuss what has happened. And try to make some sense of it.” The last
seemed to be directed more at the Mountie than at Willie. With a disheartened
sigh, the boy did as instructed. Marie poured water into a basin, picked up a
towel off the table and began to clean the wound while Clive was still
standing.
“Ouch!”
“I’m
sure it is painful, but not as much as it should be considering the blood on
your shirt. Blood that smells like ketchup.” Marie dropped the towel back onto
the table and stood, hands on her hips. “Now, Clive Bennett, I demand that you
tell me what is going on. Why did Jack rob my store, and shoot you?”
Clive
felt gingerly along the scrape, testing his ribs. They didn’t seem to be
broken. “I don’t know, Marie. Why should I?”
Marie
waved a hand in the air. “Clive, there is something wrong here. You are not
telling me everything you know.”
Bennett
didn’t say anything. The silence stretched between them. Finally he spoke.
“Marie, please don’t ask any questions.”
Willie
returned with the doctor’s bag, and Marie dabbed iodine on the bullet graze,
then wrapped a piece of gauze around Clive’s middle. “There, you are fine.” Her
touch had been none too gentle, causing Clive to winch and groan several times.
“Corporal
Bennett, do you want a posse to go after the Marshal.” Dom Bartinili and
Craddock had been good friends but the grim look on Dom’s face said that
friendship was now finished.
Bennett
groaned again, and sank onto his bed. He lay there breathing heavily, eyes half
closed. “Yeah, Dom, I guess so. Have the men get ready and I’ll be out in a few
minutes. I’m still feeling sort of weak. Give me time for a little rest. Then
we’ll go after him.”
“Are
you sure you’re up to it, Corporal?”
“I’ll
make it. I have to catch him.”
“I’ll
get your horse ready.”
“Thanks,
Dom.”
When
Dom left, Bennett looked up to see Marie and Willie staring at him. Willie held
out his hand. On it was a silver star. “The Marshal left his badge on his desk.
Does that mean he quit being the marshal?”
Clive
looked at the floor. He wanted so badly to tell Marie and Willie the truth. But
he couldn’t. Not yet anyway. “Yes, Willie, I guess it does.
Marie
didn’t say anything. She couldn’t. Tears threatened to spill from her blue
eyes. She grabbed her medical bag and ran from the room.
********************
Hours
later, as the shadows lengthened, and the sun began dipping to the west, the
Corporal sagged in his saddle. He was tired, and his side burned and ached, as
did his head. Thankfully, several would-be posse members had backed out when
they found out there was no reward and not even pay for riding with the posse.
But that was where the good luck stopped. Gabriel Couteau had ridden with them,
and seemingly with no trouble, had found Craddock’s trail, even though Bennett
had tried to lead them a different way. He had managed to slow the posse down
by pretending that his wound was bothering him. Finally he had convinced them
it was time to head back to Bordertown. Officially it was out of his
jurisdiction, since he was a Canadian Mountie, and Craddock was still in Montana . Officially he
couldn’t arrest the now ex-lawman unless Craddock crossed over into Canada .
Officially it was a job for an American Marshal. Officially. He had used the
word so many times that day he hated it. Officially it was his job. He and
Craddock were both under orders. Now it had begun. Where would it end?
When
the posse had turned back toward Bordertown, one man had remained behind. It
was Couteau. The Mati had left the posse without a word to anyone, and
unnoticed by the Corporal. He would track down Jack Craddock with or without
Bennett’s approval.
**********************
Seven
days had passed. Jack Craddock was tired, hungry, dirty, disgusted, and ready
to throw in the towel and give up. In the past week, he had been to every town,
wide-spot in the road, trading post, saloon or bar that he knew of within fifty
miles of Bordertown, on both the American side and the Canadian side.
Yesterday, at a stage station, he had heard that Dell Stoner had been seen at a
trading post and saloon on Goose Creek .
Goose Creek , he
thought, more like goose chase.
He
had ridden hard yesterday, last night, and this morning, and spent most of the
last hour watching the big, barn-like store and saloon through his binoculars.
There were differently more people around, but he had seen no one he suspected
might be part of the Stoner gang.
Jack
scratched at his beard. He had purposely not shaved for about a week before he had
left Bordertown and now his beard was getting fairly long. He had remembered to
leave his favorite hat, the brown one with the silver conchos on it in
Bordertown, and was wearing an old black one. With no badge to draw attention
to himself, and now with the beard, and as dirty as he was, on one seemed to be
noticing him. He was just another drifter.
Several
days before robbing the store, he had left a black mare at old Toby Thunder’s
place in anticipation of the need for her. In a round-about way, it was the
first place he had gone to, when he ran from robbing the store, so he could
trade his easily recognized palomino for the mare. He knew Toby wouldn’t ask
any questions, or give any information, and would take care of the palomino
until he returned for it.
Two
men rode up to the saloon, tied their horses, and went inside. Craddock
couldn’t make out their features in the evening dusk. Two more rode in. Then
one man rode in by himself. Mounting the mare, Jack rode down to the trading
post. Dismounting at the hitch rail, he tied his horse. Entering the saloon, he
stepped to right of the doorway to let his eyes adjust to the large, dim room.
There
were no windows, and only a couple of lamps were lit over the bar. The bar
consisted of several wood planks laid on some barrels. In one corner were
three, rough-cut tables accompanied by several chairs. The rest of the store
was taken up with a few shelves of canned goods, a table piled with various
pieces of men’s clothing, a few leather goods, sacks of beans, flour, sugar,
coffee and piles and piles of fur pews.
Craddock
moved to the bar. “Whiskey.”
The
owner, a tall, thin man, had on a once-white apron, and his cloths were as
dirty, if not worse than the ones Craddock wore. He slowly poured a swallow of
bad liquor into a dirty, tin cup.
Picking
up the cup, Craddock took a ship, or pretended to. “Got anything to eat?”
“Stew.”
“I’ll
take some. And some coffee.”
Sauntering
over to a table in a dark corner, Craddock made sure to put his back to the wall
and face the rest of the room, especially the door. The bartender returned with
a steaming bowl of stew, a cup, and a coffee pot. Thunking the bowl down, he
poured the cup full of coffee.
“Anything
else?”
“No,”
answered Craddock, taking up the spoon from the bowl.
“Then
that’ll be four bits.” The man stared at his customer.
Craddock
shifted on the chair to where he could reach into his pants pocket and flipped
two quarters onto the table. The bartender grabbed them and turned to go.
“Leave
the coffee pot.”
Taking
another look at the man, the bartender set the enamel pot on the table and
left. Although the drifter looked tired and wore out, the bartender had seen
the brief flash of fire in the man’s dark brown eyes. This wasn’t a man he
wanted to tangle with.
As
Craddock ate, he watched the others in the bar. Four men sat around another
table playing a half-hearted game of poker. He decided none of them were real
card players, nor did they look like the man he was after. They were just passing
the evening.
Another
man sat by himself near the bar, drinking a beer. Craddock noticed the man was
watching him, as much as he was watching the other man. Jack decided this
fellow fit the description he had been given. He was a big, muscular man; about
six foot two, around two hundred pounds, light brown hair, and gray eyes. The
Marshal guessed the man was about thirty years old, maybe thirty-five.
Jack
finished the bowl of stew, refilled his coffee cup and leaned back in his
chair. Now he watched the man openly. The man returned his stare. Deciding the
time wouldn’t get any better, Jack spoke to him. “Howdy.”
“Do
I know you?” asked the man.
“Don’t
think so,” Jack answered. “But I think I might know who you are.”
“That
so.”
Craddock
picked up his coffee cup, walked to the other table, flipped a chair around and
straddled it, arms crossed on the back of the chair. He took a swallow of the
hot coffee. Finally he said, “I expect you might be Dell Stoner.”
A
hard look crossed the man’s face, and Jack saw his hand drop to the butt of the
pistol he wore. “You’re wrong, mister.”
“I
hope not. I been lookin’ for Stoner for some time now.”
“Why
so?” asked the other man.
“Well,
I’d like to join up with him. Uh -- work with him,” explained Jack. “Yeah,
work with him.” He grinned at the man, raised an eyebrow and winked. “You know
what I mean.”
“You
got a name?” asked the man.
“Well,
if you ain’t Stoner, --- well ---- I guess I done talked too much.” Craddock
stood up and walked slowly toward the door. The short hairs prickled on the
back of his neck. He couldn’t stop himself from looking back, so he grinned and
winked again. Then went on out the door.
Even
though the night air was cool, sweat broke out and dripped down his face, and
between his shoulder blades. Craddock knew he had courted death tonight, and
won. He wiped a sleeve across his forehead, untied the black mare, mounted and
rode away from the saloon. He’d find a place away from here to camp for the
night, but he doubted very much if he’d sleep.
*******************
“Marie,
you have to file charges against Marshal Craddock,” said Sally. “Only I guess
he’s not the Marshal anymore, since he stole your money.”
Marie
looked up from the ledger she was writing in and frowned. She repeated what she
had told Sally several times already. “Jack did not steal the money. It is a
loan.”
“You
know no one believes that, Marie.” Sally stopped stocking the shelves with
canned goods and turned to her friend. “I just don’t know what to think. I
always liked Jack, but I saw him take that money, he held a gun on you and me,
and then he shot the Corporal. Now he’s been gone over a week and it doesn’t
seem like the Corporal isn even trying to find him. Just keeps telling
everybody it isn’t his job. It’s for the American authorities. It just isn’t
like either one of them. I just don’t know what to think.”
Marie
sighed and stood up. “I do not either, Sally.”
The
door opened with a jangle of the bell, and Willie came into the store, and up
to the counter. He took of his hat and turned it round and round in his hands.
“Ah – Marie –ah.”
“Yes,
Willie, what is it.”
“Ah
– can I talk to you.
“Well,
certainly.”
“Well
– ah – it’s about the Marshal. I just can’t understand why he did what he did.
I always liked him – and looked up to him, and now he’s gone and done all those
bad things, and now he’s wanted by the law.”
All
everyone seemed to want to do was talk about Jack, thought Marie. Personally
she didn’t want to. She looked at the grim-faced, young man. She realized just
how distraught he was. She wondered if Jack had thought about the consequences
of his actions before he had robbed her store. Had he thought of how she and
Clive and the rest of the town would react? And especially, had he thought of
how it would affect Willie? He was a hero to the boy.
She
had tried not to let it bother her so much, because she suspected there was
more to the whole situation than she knew about. She was sure that Clive
Bennett knew more that he was telling. Marie untied her apron. Rolled down the
sleeves of her white blouse, and smoothed the front of her navy blue shirt. “I
think I will go talk to Clive. Maybe he has heard something. Would you like to
come with me, Willie?”
“Yes,
Ma’am.” He jammed his hat on his head.
Sally
went to help a customer who had just come in. “Well, if you find out anything,
let me know.”
Marie
and Willie hurried across the narrow street of the small town, stepping around
several water puddles, and entered the office that had, until recently, been
shared by the Corporal and the Marshal. Even with most of his things still
there, the American half of the room seemed empty and deserted with Craddock
gone. It seemed odd that Clive hadn’t removed Jacks things and requested
another Marshal from Fort
Benton .
“Clive---,”
began Marie but cut off her question at the sight of Couteau pacing back and
forth in the room, while Clive sat at his desk.
“Why
do you not want to find Craddock?” Couteau asked. “He broke the law.” He waved
a hand at the Mountie. “He shot you. I saw him.”
The
Mountie shrugged his shoulders. “I’m all well now, Couteau. Don’t worry about
it. He’s an American. You and I are Canadian. There’s nothing we can do. It’s a
matter for the Montana
authorities to handle.” He stood up and spoke to his other visitors. “Yes,
Marie.”
The
Mati throw up his hands in disgust and muttered an oath.
“I
think I agree with Couteau,” said Marie. “I think you know more than you’re
telling us.”
Willie
and Couteau looked expectantly between Marie and Clive.
Clive
felt like he was being overwhelmed by the three people waiting for his answer.
“I can’t tell you anything else. It’s for the authorities to handle.”
“Can’t
or won’t?” asked Marie.
Hands
on hips, Willie spoke, “What’s the difference?”
The
door opened again to admit Dom Bartinili who held the door for Sally.
“Who
is watching the store?” asked Marie.
Sally
answered brusquely. “The store can take care of its self for a few minutes. Dom
and I have been talking and we want to know more about this problem with Jack
Craddock.”
“That’s
right,” said Dom. “The Marshal is my friend. He’s been a friend to all of us.
The rest of the town may not care, but I do, and I think everyone here does,
too. I think we need to find him and help him, if we can.”
“That’s
right,” echoed Sally.
Marie
crossed her arms. “Clive, we want answers.”
The
Mountie sat on the edge of his desk. “All right, all right. Jack was supposed
to have contacted me before now, anyway.” With his friends listening eagerly,
he filled them in on the undercover assignment Jack had gone on.
********************
After
getting more sleep than he had expected, Jack was up early and headed back
toward the trading post. He never got there. A half-mile from the saloon, he
was intercepted by the man he had talked to the evening before, the man that he
thought was Stoner. As the big man nudged a bay horse across the road in front
of him, Craddock went back into his role of outlaw.
He
pulled up his mare. “Howdy, Stoner.”
“I
like your style, mister. You ready to tell me who you are?” said Stoner.
The
Marshal let a big smile cross his face. “Name’s Craddock,” he said. “Jack
Craddock.”
Stoner
sucked in his breath in surprise, and pulled his handgun, bringing it to bear
on the marshal. For a moment Jack was sure he was going to start throwing lead.
Slowly both men relaxed a might, Jack making sure to keep his hands in plain
sight and away from his pistol.
“Marshal
Jack Craddock?” asked Stoner.
“Used
to be marshal. Not no more.” Jack dropped his head as if embarrassed. “Got
caught with my hand in the money box at the general store.”
“Seems
like I heard some ‘bout that,” said Stoner. He still kept his gun aimed at
Craddock. “Shot some lawman, too, way I heard it.”
“Yeah,
that damn Mountie. I took his guff to long as it was. I weren’t about to let
him arrest me for them few dollars.”
“Rumor
has it he wasn’t hit all that hard.”
“I
aimed to kill him, but he moved just as I fired.” Jack ducked his head again.
“He and that posse pushed me pretty hard for a few days. That’s one reason I
want to join up with you, Stoner. Thought bein’ in your gang would be a good
place to hide out. Reckon your makin’ a good bit on all them horses you been
stealin’. Bound to be more than them few piddlin’ dollars I been able to sneak
out of the different business in Bordertown.”
“You
been doin’ that?”
“Ever
since I got there,” bragged Craddock. “Bein’ Marshal, it was easy to find ever
door or window that wasn’t locked, or could be jimmied open. They was easy
pickin’s, and I never took it all at once. Just a few dollars here and there.
No one ever caught on.”
“But
you almost got caught that last time,” stated Stoner.
Craddock’s
smile disappeared, and he didn’t say anything to defend himself for a few
moments. “It won’t happen again.”
“All
right, Craddock. I’m probably makin’ a mistake, but come on. Best you
remember one thing, though ----- you turn on me, ----- you try to take me in,
----- I’ll kill you. ----- You understand.”
Jack
nodded “I understand. “ ‘Sides, if I was to try to take you in, I’d wind up in
jail, too.”
Stoner
put his gun back in its holster, and both men turned their horses to head on
down the road. “By the way, Craddock. Good thing you told me the truth. I
thought I recognized you last night, too. You hadn’t a told the truth, well,
you’d be dead by now.”
Jack
suppressed a shudder and followed the horse thief, wondering again if he was
getting himself into more than he could handle. He decided this undercover
stuff wasn’t all it was cut out to be.
********************
Couteau
had watched the rustlers’ camp for two days. It hadn’t been hard to find, once
he had set his mine to it. He was determined to figure out where Craddock might
be and remembered a few words he had overheard once when the lawmen were
talking about finding Dell Stoner, but neither Bennett nor Craddock had asked
him to find the camp for them. He had wondered a bit about that. He shook his
head slightly in wonder at the ways of the white men. They always seemed to do
things the hard way.
The
half Indian, half French scout moved closer to the edge of rock he was laying
on. His leather cloths blended into the dirt and trees, making him almost
invisible. From the ledge he could look straight down into the camp. There was
a lookout posted, but he never seemed to look up this way. Couteau had seen six
different men in the camp, Jack Craddock being one of them. That meant there
were five of the horse thieves, and there were two women, also. One seemed to
be a young girl, about eighteen or nineteen. The other was probably in her late
twenties. Couteau hadn’t yet figured out where they fit into the gang.
Wanting
to get closer, the scout slipped off the rock ledge and disappeared into the thick
underbrush. This was the type of work he enjoyed. At a young age Couteau had
realized that the old Indian way of life was over, and that of the mountain men
and trappers would soon be over, as well. So he had learned to live like a
white man, but he still wanted adventure in his life. He had found he could
have it, and use his Indian skills by scouting and helping lawmen hunt down
outlaws and criminals. He liked best to work for Corporal Bennett.
*****************
Whittling
on a stick, Jack Craddock sat on a stump used for chopping firewood. He was
watching everything around him. The cabin, ten feet or so to his left. The
large corral full of horses to his right, with more horses scattered out along
the creek that meandered down the small valley. The rock ledge, rising a good
fifty feet above the corral and over looking the canyon the hideout was in. He
had thought he had seen the glint of something shiny up on the cliff. Maybe,
maybe not.
A
woman came out of the cabin, hips swinging provocatively; she walked past him
to the creek, and bent to fill the two buckets she carried. She was tall, with
blond hair, a blond that didn’t look natural. No blouse covered the sleeveless
chemise she had on, and a ragged skirt revealed a lot of leg, as well as her
dusty, bare feet. Coming back with the two dripping buckets she stopped and set
them down near Craddock. “A gentleman would help a lady with these heavy
buckets,” she hinted.
Jack
took a quick look around, and shrugged. “Don’t see none. No gentleman, nor
any,” he hesitated, “ladies.” He went back to his whittling. There was some
advantage to playing outlaw, he thought and a smile played at the corners of
his mouth.
The
woman spit out several swear words, took up the buckets and returned to the
cabin. It wasn’t the first time the ex-lawman had ignored her since he had
arrived with Stoner several days before. She wondered what it took to make him
look at a woman.
Jack
had made it a point to stay away from the two women in the camp. He had no idea
there would be women at the hideout. It was quickly obvious that this one,
Cora, was Stoner’s woman and the other, Molly, was Stoner’s sister. Then one of
the thieves had made it quite plain that Molly was his girl. Tom Blake had
informed Jack that if he so much as looked cross-eyed at either woman that he’d
get his face smashed in just before he got his throat cut.
The
last thing Craddock wanted was to get involved with Cora or Molly, especially
if it included getting his face smashed or throat cut. All he wanted was to
capture Stoner and his gang. If the women were part of it, well --- they would
have to go to jail, too. But right now, he had to find some way to contact
Bennett.
Something
flashed in his eyes again. Casually Craddock dropped the stick he had been
whittling on, closed his knife and slid it into its sheath. He stood, put his
hands on the small of his back and stretched. He ambled slowly over to the
corral. On the way, he took a look up on the cliff. He saw the glint again, and
for a half a second, he saw a man. Couteau? If it was Couteau, he hoped Bennett
was with him.
At
the corral, he propped his booted foot on the bottom rung. He nodded at Watts and Paddy, two of the other men, who where brushing
a couple of horses. Jack pulled out an old, red bandana, removed his hat, wiped
at the sweat on his forehead, then at the sweat on the inside of the hat. He
waved the hat a couple of times to air it out then replaced it on his head.
“Hot, ain’t it?” he commented to the two outlaws.
Paddy
leaned against the fence and watched the Marshal. “Sure is.” He was an older
man, small and wiry, with almost white hair. He always seemed to be rolling and
lighting a cigarette. He did it now. “Gon’na rain tho’. Kin feel it in ma
bones.”
“You
might be right,” said Jack. “Especially considerin’ them clouds to the north.”
Paddy
looked north. “Yeah, it is cloudin’ up. Been better if it had waited ‘nother
few days. I like a good hard rain after we pull a job. Helps wash out tracks,
an’ discourages posses.”
Craddock
chuckled. “It sure does,” he agreed. Paddy had been the friendliest of the five
horse thieves. Watts had seldom said anything,
just glaring at every one and working with the horses most of the time. Kenner , the last of the
five, a half breed, seemed to be a mean and vicious killer. Right now he was on
watch.
Two
horses cantered up to the corral. Molly pulled up her pinto, dismounted and
began unsaddling. She didn’t look happy. Tom Blake sat on the other horse for a
moment then spoke. “Watts, you go relieve Kenner .
Tell him I want to see him.”
“Somethin’
the matter, Tom?” asked Paddy, as he took the reins of Molly’s pinto, removed
the bridle and turned it loose.
“Nothin’,”
Blake replied angrily as he stomped to the cabin.
Paddy
tried again. “What is it, Molly girl?”
“Just
that Tom is still steamed because Dell don’t want to go on another raid yet.”
Molly tapped a quirt against her boot. She wore pants and a flannel shirt that
only accented her feminine features. Her long, dark brown hair was braided and
covered by her hat. She pointed the short whip at Craddock. “And he don’t like
him bein’ here, either.” She followed Blake to the house.
Still
leaning against the fence, arms folded, Craddock had watched the exchange
without saying anything or showing he cared one way or another. He had already
realized that Molly, Blake, and Kenner
didn’t like him. Paddy and Watts didn’t seem
to care. He wasn’t sure how Cora felt.
Paddy
slapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry none ‘bout the girl, Jack. She don’t
never take to any of the new men right off, an’ you should a seen the fit she
throwed when Stoner brought Cora here. Was a sight to behold.” The older man
giggled at the thought then gathered up Molly’s saddle from where she had
dropped it and lugged it to a small lean-to where gear was stored.
The
Marshal’s black mare pushed her nose against his arm, looking for a treat. He
petted her a moment. It wasn’t Molly he was worried about. It was Blake. The
man was violent, and cruel. He seemed ready to explode at a moments notice.
Craddock didn’t want to be the one to set him off. Not yet anyway. He took a
look up the side of the cliff, but didn’t see anything.
*******************
The
dark clouds dropped lower until it seemed they surrounded the hideout, and rain
dripped from them, as evening closed in. Five men and two women, in one small,
three-room cabin, made for close quarters, and tension filled the room thick as
the clouds outside. Stoner and Cora shared one bedroom and Molly claimed the
other. The big front room had bunks for the men on one end, and a cooking area
on the other, with a table in the middle. Cora finished washing the dishes, while
Paddy sat at the table playing a game of solitaire, with Craddock watching.
Blake, Stoner and Molly held a whispered conversation in a corner. Only a word
or two reached the Marshal’s ear. Not enough to make since.
A
gust of wind swept the room when Kenner
opened the door. As he entered, he shook rain off his slicker and hat then hung
them on a hook, causing a puddle to form on the floor.
“Hey,”
said Cora pointing at the puddle. “Why didn’t you hang them wet thing out on
the porch? What do you think this is, a barn? Don’t expect me to clean that up”
Cora
slapped a wet rag down on the cabinet, then did the same as Kenner , poured coffee and whiskey into a tin
cup and plopped down into an old rocking chair. As she rocked it creaked.
“Horses
all right?” as Paddy, as he rolled and lit a cigarette.
“Uh
huh, just wet,” answered Kenner .
Cora
continued to rock the creaking chair. It wasn’t but a few minutes before Blake
commanded gruffly. “Stop that, Cora. That noise is gettin’ on my nerves.”
“I
like it,” said Cora, and rocked harder.
It
took all the Marshal’s tolerance not to do or say anything. After a week of
being here and putting up with Stoner and his gang, it was all he could do to
keep from saying ‘adios’ and riding out. The next time someone asked him to go
in undercover to catch a law breaker, he was sure he’d just turn in his badge.
Paddy
shuffled the cards and laid out another hand. “Boss, you make a decision on
what we’re gon’na do, yet?”
Before
replying Stoner sat down at the table. He motioned for Blake and Molly to do
the same. “Yeah, we’re gon’na take what we got and go north and sell ‘em.”
Blake
pounded a fist on the table. “No, damn it. I say we make one more raid. That
Metzler fella’s got some damn good horses and I want some of them.”
“Dell,
I have to agree with Tom,” said Molly, to her brother. “If we’re going to hit
Metzler, we need to do it now, before he sells any stock. He’s got a lot right
now.”
Stoner
frowned at her. “Paddy, how do you say?” he asked.
The
older man laid a three of clubs on a four of hearts. “Me. I’m gettin’ tired of
this game. Like to lay up in a town for the winter, if I can get enough money.
Maybe with a nice, cuddly woman.” He looked up at the half-breed, before
returning to his cards. “Your vote, Kenner .”
He dropped his smoke on the floor and stubbed it out with his boot, then rolled
another.
“I
go with Blake.” Kenner
hadn’t hesitated, and no one was surprised by his answer. He never seemed to
care about the money. His enjoyment was the actual stealing, of the horses. The
thrill of getting away with something that belonged to someone else, and was
against the law. Craddock had decided that was the way Blake and Molly felt,
too.
Cora
stood and sundered to the table, hanging an arm around Stoner’s shoulder.
“Since Molly got a vote, I should have one, too.”
Molly
smiled a big, fake grin. “Sure Cora, why not. You can have a vote; it just
won’t count.”
Blake
spoke up “Watts is with me. I already asked
him. If Craddock sides with you, Dell, we’ll be tied up. Four to four. What
then?”
Molly
had another question. “Dell, if we don’t go for Metzler’s and just sell what we
got, does Craddock get a share of the cut? I say no. He didn’t help us get none
of this bunch of horses.”
“Molly’s
right,” agreed Blake, and the others agreed with him.
“Well,”
said Craddock, breaking his long silence, “I have to admit I ain’t got no right
to what you already got. So I got to vote with Blake. I’ve seen Metzler’s stock,
and I like their looks.” He paused to sip at his coffee. “Should be easy, too.
He don’t seem to watch ‘em real close, either.” Jack was glad things had come
to a head and was working this way. If the Stoner gang came to a decision on
when they’d make the raid, and if that had been Couteau, and if he could get
word back to Bennett. If, if, if. Way too many if’s.
“Then
it’s settled.” Blake stood up. “We leave day after tomorrow. Hit Metzler’s
spread the next day. Oh, and that chestnut stallion of his, is mine. Is that
understood?” He looked around the room, but no one objected.
Stoner
poured whiskey in his cup and downed it. “Paddy, I want you to stay and help
Cora keep an eye out here. Craddock, time you stood watch. Go relieve Watts . Kenner I want you and
Watts to leave tomorrow and scout out
Metzler’s ranch.” He poured another drink, and gulped down the swallow of fiery
liquor. “Now I’m goin’ to bed. Come on, Cora.”
“Sure,
honey, what ever you say.” She winked at Craddock then followed Stoner into the
bedroom.
Out
loud Jack groaned an objection to going out in the rain, but to himself he
sighed in relief. He hadn’t known if he would take the heat and tension in the
cabin much longer. He realized his luck was holding. He had only been sent on
watch once before, and that had been with Paddy. Maybe Stoner was beginning to
trust him more. Maybe this would give him a chance to find Couteau. He opened
the door onto the pouch, causing the wind to whirl though the cabin again.
Shutting the door, he grabbed his slicker from a hook and stepped out into the
rain.
Jack
had barely relieved the man called Watts
when a voice whispered behind him, and Couteau appeared out of the rain
and fog. Craddock wasn't surprised that the half-breed had been able to find
him. In fact he was very glad and quickly told him what the Stoner gang was
planning. As quickly and quietly as he had appeared Couteau was gone. He would
take Craddock's message back to Corporal Bennett.
*******************
Slipping
a bridle onto his bay horse, Clive led him out of the stall. He dropped a
blanket and then his saddle onto the back of the animal. He swiftly pulled the
cinch tight and fastened it. Then tied a bedroll and saddlebags behind the
cantle. “Are you sure Craddock said the raid was for tomorrow?”
“Yes,
that is what he said. At the Metzler ranch. Tomorrow.” Couteau already had a
fresh horse saddled for himself. Now he mounted.
Dressed
in riding cloths and carrying her medical bag, Marie ran into the barn.
“Couteau, please saddle my horse, too.”
“No,
Marie. You’re not going,” said the Mountie. “It could be dangerous.”
“That
is exactly why I am going. If someone gets hurt, I want to be there so I can
take care of them. I do not like it that Jack is out there pretending to be a
horse thief, so he can catch the real horse thieves. As you said, it is
dangerous.”
Clive
stood facing the doctor, one hand on the saddle. Now he spoke in a low, earnest
voice to her. “Marie, it is very dangerous. And that’s why I don’t want you to
go. If your there, and I’m having to think about you, too, I can’t do my job as
well and neither can Jack or Couteau. If you’re here, I don’t have to worry
about you. Please, Marie, stay here.” He put his left foot in the stirrup and
swung his right leg over to settle himself into the saddle.
Couteau’s
horse sidestepped with impatience. “Stay here, Doctor. No one is going to be
hurt. Unless it is one of the Stoner gang.” He let out the reins and the horse
left the barn.
Clive
and Marie stared at each other a moment. Neither wanted to back down. “Stay
here, Marie. Please,” he repeated his plea.
Her
shoulders sagged, but she tried to smile, knowing Clive was right. “Very well,
Clive. I will stay. But do be careful, and bring Jack back with you.”
“I
will,” promised the Mountie, as he followed Couteau.
Doctor
Dumont watched her friends ride out of town, saying a silent prayer that they
would return without being harmed. Sometimes she hated the fact that both Clive
and Jack had such dangerous jobs, but she promised herself she would never let
them know how much it frightened her.
*************************
Jack
lay in the jumbled pile of rocks between Dell Stoner and Tom Blake. Molly lay
next to Blake. They had been there for several hours, through the chill of the
night, waiting for the barest light of dawn to make their move on the Metzler
ranch. They were waiting for the time when men slept the most soundly, and they
would be able to see just enough to be sure of what they were doing. They
wanted to be able to take the best horses with the least risk, and Blake was
determined to have Metzler’s stallion, and they knew the stallion was in the
barn.
“It’s
time,” whispered Molly, as the slightest tinge of red lay on the eastern
horizon.
“All
right,” said Stoner. “You and Tom go down this hill, on the right. Craddock and
I will ease down through that pasture. Watts and Kenner will meet us at the barn.”
Molly
and Blake mounted their horses and disappeared. Craddock followed Stoner
through a small stand of trees, their mounts at a slow walk. A group of horses
in the pasture woke up, and moved restlessly at their approach. Stoner detoured
around them causing the animals to start moving toward the corral.
Jack
was uneasy, watching, listening, waiting, expecting the Mountie and Metzler’s
crew to appear at any moment. He had never stolen a horse in his life and
didn’t want to now, but knew he had to go along with Stoner’s gang, if Couteau
hadn’t been able to get word to Bennett. He knew Clive would not have been able
to get any reinforcements from Fort Benton or Fort
McCloud , as the army and
Mountie posts were too far. But the Mountie might have come on his own to try
and stop the raid.
Taking
time to herd in the stock in the field made them the last to reach the corrals
and barn. Kenner was opening gates, while Watts and Molly eased the horses out into the open. Blake
came out of the barn leading a big, chestnut stallion. Skittish at what was
going on the stallion trumpeted a challenge, and pulling hard on his lead rope,
causing Blake to jerk on the rope and swear at the horse.
“Halt!”
yelled Corporal Bennett. “Put your hands up.” He stood at the corner of the
barn, gun drawn. Couteau, Metzler, and several others appeared at various
places around the ranch yard and near the bunkhouse.
“Give
it up, Stoner,” said Craddock in a loud voice, as he drew his revolver,
pointing it at the outlaw leader.
“You
son-of-a-bitch,” yelled Watts , grabbing for
his own weapon and firing at the lawman. Metzler and his men shot back. The
outlaw fell from his horse.
Loose
animals were everywhere, whinnying and plunging in fright and running in all
directions. Gunshots filled the air. As one mare went down, Metzler began
yelling, “Hold your fire. You’ll hit the horses.”
Stoner
stared in dismay at the Marshal. “I trusted you.” He reached for his gun and
Craddock fired. Stoner jerked then spurred his horse into the plunging,
scattering herd. Two more shots rang out and then a semblance of quiet returned
to the ranch.
Craddock
dismounted and was bending over another fallen outlaw. As the Marshal turned
the rustler over, Metzler and Bennett joined him. “It’s a woman,” Metzler
hissed through his teeth at the sight of Molly’s long hair and shapely curves.
Her
eyes flickered, opened, and she whimpered in pain. Her hand clutched at her
side, blood leaking through her fingers to drip onto the ground. Her lips moved
as she tried to talk, but the men couldn’t make out the words. Mrs. Metzler had
come from the house and at her direction the Marshal slipped an arm under
Molly’s shoulders and knees, carried her into the house, where he laid her on a
bed.
“Ma’am,
can you take care of her, ‘till Doctor Dumont can get here?” he asked.
“Certainly,
Marshal,” answered Letty Metzler. “Do you know her name?”
“Molly
Stoner. She’s Dell Stoner’s sister.”
“Well,”
said the older woman. “What is the world comin’ to, that young women turn to
stealing’ horses. But whatever she’s done, she needs my help right now, and
she’ll get it.”
Through
clenched teeth Molly whispered. “Don’t want your help, you ole’ witch.”
Letty
was unfazed my Molly’s words. “Don’t matter whether you want it or not, girl.
You’ll get it anyway.” She turned to leave the room. “I’ll get some hot water
and bandages.” She was a rancher’s wife and used to all kinds of emergencies.
“I
don’t need anyone’s help,” said Molly.
“Yeah,
you do.” Sitting on the edge of the bed, Jack took her hand and tired to
comfort her. She tried to pull away, put was to week. “Molly, someone rode for
the Doctor. She’ll be here soon. You just keep hangin’ on.”
“You
set us up. Why would you or anyone here want to help me now?” She moaned and
cried softy against the torment of her wound.
“Yeah,
I set you up. It was my job. You shouldn’t have stole them horses in the first
place. But I didn’t mean for you to get shot.”
Clive
appeared at the door. “Craddock, we should go. Couteau went after Stoner, and
the other man. We can’t afford to miss a chance to catch them.”
“They’ll
get away, you know. You won’t catch them,” said Molly with certainty.
“I’m
comin’,” Jack said to the Mountie. “Molly, I am sorry you got hurt. You keep
hangin’ on, you hear.” The girl clutched at the hand that still held hers, and
then was still. Craddock sighed deeply and laid her hand gently onto the bed,
then wiped his own hand across his face as if to make the scene before him go
away. He hadn’t really liked Molly Stoner, but he hadn’t meant for her to end
up this way.
Letty
Metzler returned and set a basin of water on a small table by the bed. She
spoke in a soft, voice with a touch of sorrow in it. “Well, I don’t believe I
can help her after all,” She placed a hand on the Jack’s shoulder. “She’s gone,
Marshal. You need to finish your job. The Corporal is waiting for you. I’ll
take care of things here.”
With
a last look of regret at Molly’s now peaceful face, the lawman left the
room.
*********************
Stoner
slumped in the saddle of the running horse, finally pulling it to a halt. Tom
Blake reined in, too, still fighting to control Metzler’s stallion. “Come on,
Dell,” he said impatiently.
Stoner
removed his bandana stuffing it into his shirt, trying to plug his wound.
“Where’s Molly and Kenner .”
“Craddock
and them others got Watts and Kenner .”
“But
what about Molly?” Stoner was worried about his sister.
“I
ain’t sure, but she’ll catch up soon.”
Stoner
turned his horse to stare back the way they had come. “We can’t leave her back
there.”
“Come
on, Stoner. She got away. She knows how to keep hid.”
“Yeah,
maybe she did. She’ll meet us back at the hideout.” He hoped it was true. He
couldn’t bear to think of Molly in a jail somewhere or, worse, hung for horse
stealing.
Blake
was getting more irritated at Stoner. “Craddock knows where it is. We can’t go back there. Molly will know that. She’ll meet us on down the
trail somewhere.”
“We
have to. Have to warn Cora and Paddy. Don’t look like you cared as much for
Molly as you said. You don’t care ‘bout nobody but yourself, do you, Blake? You
do want you want, I’m goin’ to the hideout and wait for Molly. I ain’t sure I
can make it much farther, anyway.” Stoner kicked his horse into a lope.
Blake
didn’t follow. With the stallion in tow, he headed west. What did he care about
Molly, or Stoner? He had his skin and this damn stallion.
********************
Paddy
gazed across the Montana
landscape. He wiped his sweaty palms down his leather pants leg then pulled a
pouch of tobacco, and a paper out of his vest pocket. He rolled a cigarette and
lit it. Something wasn’t right, he could feel it. Returning to the cabin he
stuffed his few positions in a burlap bag, and rolled his bedroll.
Cora
eyed him suspiciously. “Where you goin’?” she asked.
“Leavin’,”
answered Paddy shortly.
“You
can’t leave. We got a wait for Dell.”
“Woman,
I can leave anytime I damn well please. ‘Sides somethin’s wrong.”
Cora
placed one hand on her hip. “Well, now, just how do you know that?”
Paddy
put some jerky, coffee and a coffee pot, some left over biscuits, and a few
other supplies in another bag. “Gut feelin’. An’ I learned long time ago never
to ignore my gut feelin’s. I’m takin’ my share of them nags, an’ leavin’.” He
picked up the bedroll. “You can come with me or wait here for Stoner. Don’t
make no never mind to me.” The old rustler went out the door, and got his
saddle from the shed. He saddled his riding horse then used a rope to tie a
dozen of the stolen animals together, nose to tail. He turned the rest loose,
so they could graze in the canyon. They wouldn’t go far before Stoner got back,
if he came back.
Cora
came up behind him. “Would you saddle a horse for me, too?” she asked. She had
changed into a man’s shirt and pants and a pair of boots. She carried a small
satchel with her cloths in it, an armload of blankets, and a flour sack of
food.
“Right
smart move,” said Paddy, as he caught up another horse for her to ride. “If
Stoner an’ the others get back here, they’ll round up this bunch an’ head on
fer Canada ,
like we talked ‘bout. Place I know of where we ken sell ‘em. No questions
asked.”
Within
minutes, they rode out of the canyon and headed north.
*******************
From
a thick stand of oak and brush, Couteau watched Blake make his way through the
trees, along a narrow trail. The outlaw had no idea the Mati had managed to get
ahead of him. When Couteau suddenly rode out onto the path, Blake pulled up
sharply and grabbed for his gun.
“Uh
un un! Do not make me shoot you,” Couteau pointed his rifle at the horse thief.
“Drop your pistol. You are under arrest.”
Unable
to see anyway out of the situation, Tom Blake did as told and dropped his gun.
Couteau tied Blake’s hands to his saddle horn, checking to be sure the rope was
good and tight. Taking his time, the Mati calmed the stallion, making sure he
was unharmed. He grinned at
his prisoner, “I think that rancher Metzler will pay a reward for your capture,
as well as for the horse.”
Remounting
his own horse Couteau took up the reins of Blake’s animal and the lead rope of
the stallion. They would take the trip back slowly. He didn’t want any harm to
come to the big chestnut. As for Blake, well he didn’t think the rustler would
try to escape. He couldn’t the way he was tied up. Besides he had been easy to
catch once. Couteau knew he could do it again, if need be.
********************
Gritting
his teeth Dell Stoner rode into the hideout. Paddy had not been at the lookout
post and no one was in sight near the corrals or cabin. The stock was spread
out through the small meadows of the canyon. He cussed at Paddy. The old man
should have had the horses held in the pens ready to be driven on to Canada .
Something was wrong.
“Paddy.
Cora.” There was no answer.
Stoner
almost fell from his horse then staggered into the cabin. It was empty and
quiet, as if it had been abandoned for a long time. “Cora. Where are you?”
He
checked the bedrooms finding no one. Then Stoner noticed Cora’s dresses were
missing from the pegs they had hung on. Most of the bedding was gone. Back in
the main room he found no sign of Paddy’s things, either. As he realized the
two had deserted him, he slumped onto a bunk, head down, shoulder throbbing
unmercifully.
When
he could he started a small fire, heated water and made some coffee. There was
a pan with some left-over stew in it. He ate it, regardless of how old it was,
it was food, and right now he needed to get his strength back. Somehow Paddy
had known the raid had gone wrong. He had left taking Cora with him. Stoner
would go on as soon as he could. He knew where to find them. He hoped Molly was
all right.
*****************
The
Marshal and the Mountie sneaked through the brush, trees, and boulders toward
the hideout. They hadn’t found anyone posted on lookout, but horses were
everywhere. It didn’t make since. If Stoner and Blake had made it back and left
with Paddy and Cora, why hadn’t they taken the stolen animals with them? If
they were still here, where were they? Hiding in a jumble of large rocks, and
pine trees, the lawmen were close enough to see a very tired horse tired to the
pouch rail at the cabin.
“That’s
Stoner’s horse. Somethin’ ain’t right,” whispered Craddock.
“But
what?” asked Bennett. “I’d like to know how many we’re up against before we go
busting in there.”
“Yeah,
me, too.”
They
waited and watched for a long hour. Smoke drifted up from the stovepipe and
with it the smell of fresh coffee. The sun showed it was mid-afternoon but it
got dark early in the canyon. If they were to make a move, they had to do it
soon.
Jack
rubbed his eyes and blinked. He was tired and wore to a frazzle. “Clive, I
ain’t had no sleep in so long, I ‘bout forgot what it is, and a cup of that
coffee sure would taste good. I say we get this over with, how ‘bout you?”
“All
right, it’s your call,” agreed Bennett.
“Stoner!”
yelled Craddock. “You in there.” he waited for an answer. “Stoner!”
A
rifle barrel appeared on the windowsill. “Yeah, Craddock, I hear you.”
“Come
on out, Stoner. You and anyone else in there.”
Stoner
didn’t answer. Jack tried again. “Stoner, give it up. Cora’s in there. You want
her to get hurt, too.”
Stoner
peaked out the window. He was tired. His arm felt like it was on fire. He
wondered what the Marshal meant about Cora getting hurt, too. He had been hit,
and he had seen Watts go down, but who else.
Surely not his sister, not Molly.
“Ain’t
nobody here but me, lawman. I sent Cora and Paddy on ahead. Can’t say where
Blake and Molly got off to. You best go after them. They still got the
stallion. You get sloppy and I get a chance, I’ll blow your head off. Thought we
might be friends once, Craddock. But not now.” Stoner hoped the lawmen wanted
the stolen animals worse than they wanted him. He watched as the sun dropped
lower and lower. A cool wind kicked up, swirling the dust in front of the
cabin. Maybe he would have a chance to escape when it got dark.
“Think
he’s telling the truth? That he’s the only one here?” asked Clive.
Jack
shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not.”
“Stoner,
time to end this,” called the Corporal. “We got Kenner ,
and Watts . The girl is dead. You will be soon
without some medical attention. Throw out your weapon and come out.”
“No,”
whispered Stoner. “No, not Molly.” He may as well have killed her himself. He
should have made her quit and go back east a long time ago, but Molly had refused.
She had enjoyed the thrill of living the outlaw life more than he had.
“Cover
me,” said Craddock. “I’m goin’ in.” He sprinted to tree, then to a
boulder, another large, old fir tree, and then there was no more cover
between him and the cabin. As he watched, the door opened slowly.
“Is
that true, Craddock? Is Molly dead?”
“Yeah,
Stoner. She’s dead.”
“Who
killed her, Craddock? Was it you?”
“Can’t
say who’s bullet it was, but it wasn’t mine. I only fired that one time. At
you, Stoner. You’re hurt. Give it up.”
The
lawmen and the outlaw waited, wondering who would give up first. Just as Jack
was convinced a shoot-out was inevitable, Stoner gave in. “All right. You win,”
he called out, and tossed out first, a pistol, and then a rifle. “I’m comin’
out.”
“Do
it slow, with your hands up,” said Craddock.
With
his right hand shoulder high and the left hanging limply at his side, Stoner
took one step out the door. Then another, and then down the porch steps. Gun
drawn, Jack stepped out from behind the fir tree and Clive came out of the nest
of boulders. Seeing the bad shape the outlaw was in, Jack relaxed slightly,
replacing his Colt 45 in its holster, and pulled his handcuffs from his pants
pocket. He knew Bennett was covering him. He reached for Stoner’s right wrist
and the outlaw drew back and hit the Marshal on his jaw with a hard fist.
His
head buzzing, Jack went down on one knee, but came back up swinging his own
fist and connected with Stoner’s belly. The man doubled over and Jack hit him
again, causing the horse thief to go all the way to the ground.
“Stay
down,” growled the Marshal, but Stoner rolled in the dirt and came to his feet,
his hand going behind his back and pulling another pistol, where it had been
hid from sight. Stoner fired, as did Bennett. The outlaw’s shot kicked up dirt
at Jack’s feet, but Clive’s bullet found its mark. Dell Stoner, like Molly
wouldn’t steal any more horses.
********************
With
a fresh shave, haircut and bath, Marshal Jack Craddock sat behind his desk,
chair tipped back, feet propped up on the desk. A chunk of dried mud fell off
the sole of one boot onto a stack of wanted posters. It was good to be back in
Bordertown. He had Kenner , Watts
and Blake locked in a cell in the back. They would stand trial, and go to jail.
Blake was still making threats about what he would do to all lawmen when he
escaped. Metzler had given Couteau a substantial reward for returning the
stallion. He and Bennett had sent notices to various law offices about Paddy
and Cora. Something would turn up. Letty Metzler had insisted on seeing to it
that Dell and Molly Stoner were given decent burials on the ranch where they
had made their last raid. He felt that he had finished his undercover
assignment to everyone’s satisfaction, including his own. But he sure didn’t
want to have to go undercover ever again.
As
Bennett and Marie entered the office together. Jack’s feet fit the floor and he
stood up. “Evenin’, Marie, Clive.”
“Thought
you might like to join us for supper over at the saloon,” said Clive. “As long
as you promise not to start shooting at me,” he teased.
“Honest,
Clive,” Jack hesitated, “I didn’t mean to shoot you. You know it’s all your
fault. You moved just as I fired.”
Clive
had to harass the Marshal just a little bit more. “Admit it, Craddock; you’re
just a bad shot.”
“I
can shoot better than you any day, Clive.” Jack would never let the Mountie
know how embarrassed he was, that he had accidentally hit his friend,
especially when Clive had come to his rescue when he had been with the Stoner
gang. He still couldn’t figure out exactly how he had managed to hit his
friend.
“That
is enough from both of you,” said Marie, knowing they could go on badgering
each other forever. “I am hungry. Will you join us, Jack.”?
Are
you sure you want me to?” He still wasn’t clear how Marie felt about his
robbing her store, to make it seem like he had turned outlaw.
“Why
certainly, Jack. I would like you to come with us.”
“Marie,
I want to apologize again for robbin’ your store. I’m – I’m real sorry.”
“You
and Clive could have told me. I would have understood.”
Jack
turned to Clive. “Yeah, Clive, why didn’t you tell her?”
“Me?”
said the Mountie, pointing a finger at himself. “You said not to. You said it
needed to look as real as possible.”
“Well,
it certainly did. I was differently convinced, as was the whole town.” She
turned to leave the office and then turned back. “By the way, Jack, you owe me
forty-two dollars.” She held out her hand.
“Yes,
ma’am,” Jack jerked open a desk draw, reached under some papers and took out a
long leather wallet. He was only more than glad to get rid of the money he had
taken that fateful morning. He extracted several bills and laid them in Marie’s
hand then he offered her his arm and the three friends stepped out of the
office. Supper was waiting.
******End*****