Cotton's Devil (9781101618523) (28 page)

I
s Judge Sanborn in his room?” Cotton asked at the hotel's front desk.

“No, Sheriff, I believe I just saw him come down and go into the dining room. Shall I fetch him for you?”

“Nope. I'll just join him. He's, uh, waiting for me,” Cotton lied.

The sheriff located Sanborn reading a newspaper and sipping coffee at a table across the room, somewhat away from any table where other patrons were eating.
I reckon he likes his privacy
, Cotton thought.
He'll want it even more after he hears what I have to say.

Cotton walked up to Sanborn's table and sat. “Well, Judge, I hope you're enjoying our little town.”

“I
was
enjoying the solitude afforded me here, before your arrival, that is. What is it you have to say? I'm sure you're not here just to share pleasantries.”

“You are absolutely right. So I'll just have my say and leave you to your dinner.”

“That would be most appreciated. What is it, Sheriff?”

“It's about some trash you brought to town, your deputy marshal, James Lee Hogg. He beat up a whore over at the saloon late yesterday in a drunken fit. He's now a wanted man and on the run. I'm surprised you haven't heard by now. When I catch up to him, I expect you'll want to set a quick date for the trial. I'll inform you as soon as he's in my custody. Unless of course you'd rather not be bothered, in which case I'll handle the matter myself.”

The shock on Sanborn's face was the exact reaction Cotton had hoped for. Fear filled his cloudy gray eyes, telling the whole story. The old man acted as if he had suddenly realized he'd picked the wrong man to do his dirty work and he was now in a corner. And it was obvious he didn't like it one bit. He began chewing his lip nervously. His complexion seemed to turn paler as his expression darkened.

“Good day to you, sir,” Cotton said with a snide, contempt-filled smile, as he strode from the room, thinking,
If the old man is going to have one of those “accidents” Jack suggested, now would be a perfect time
. Leaving the hotel, Cotton broke into a wide grin, giving a group of ladies on the porch a cheery “Howdy.”

Arthur Sanborn saw his best chance to take his revenge on Sheriff Cotton Burke begin to go up in smoke. If the sheriff got a posse together and went on the hunt for James Lee, the chances were they'd find him. There weren't that many places to hide while staying near the town. Sanborn knew that Hogg wouldn't go far from the payout he expected for killing the sheriff. Therefore, Sanborn concluded that his only recourse was to enlist Lazarus Bellwood to find James Lee and smuggle him back to town. The plan wasn't complete as of yet, but if he could keep Hogg under wraps for only two more days, he figured to be ready to set the trap and have James Lee call the sheriff out. Only difference now was he'd have to get rid of James Lee, too. He dabbed at his mouth, pushed his plate away, and left the dining room.

When he got to the desk, he asked if the clerk had seen the man who had checked in carrying a rifle.

“No, sir, I haven't seen him since earlier this morning. Shall I run up to his room and see if he's there?”

“That won't be necessary. I'll do it myself if you can you tell me his room number.”

Sanborn took the three sets of stairs slowly and gingerly, holding tightly to the handrail all the way. He had an arthritic knee, and putting weight on it gave him severe pain. He stopped halfway up, pulled a silver flask from his inside coat pocket, unscrewed the cap, and took a long swig. Replacing the cap, he took a deep breath and continued up the stairs, each step bringing a reminder that choosing a first-floor room would have been more advisable. However, after hearing Lazarus's plan for shooting Burke, he was glad for the pain the second floor brought him. It seemed a small price to pay for such sweet revenge. And its perfect vantage point.

Cotton's gleeful revelation about James Lee Hogg almost drove Sanborn to buy a gun and do the job himself. He wouldn't, of course, not because he thought it might place a stain on him as a judge, but because the truth was he was a coward. Always had been. In fact, his son, Bill, had suffered from the same trait. That's why the judge had paid large sums to Lazarus Bellwood to shoot any unfortunate fellow who made the mistake of crossing “Lucky Bill's” path. The scheme had worked several times, and each time with great success. Until, that is, Bill made the fatal mistake of pushing himself on a deputy sheriff's sister and killing her when she rejected him.

Having to climb to the third floor to reach Lazarus's room, Sanborn was nearly out of breath by the time he reached the right number. He tapped lightly with the handle of his cane. He heard some shuffling coming from inside, and he stood back as Lazarus opened the door only slightly. The first thing Sanborn saw was the muzzle of the Sharps rifle, followed by one sleepy eye.

“Oh, it's you, Judge. Sorry. I was taking a siesta. Won't
you come in?” Lazarus stepped aside as Sanborn breezed by him, making his way for a chair. He slumped into it and sighed.

“Would you like a drink of whiskey, sir? You look plumb tuckered out.”

“No, thank you. I have my own right here,” he said as he again pulled the silver flask from his pocket.

“Is there something wrong, Judge? I sure didn't expect to see you at my door.” Lazarus seemed fidgety, more nervous than usual.

“Yes, there is. We have a very large problem on our hands. That jackass James Lee Hogg went and lost his mind while in a drunken rage. He beat up a whore at that bawdy-house saloon. Now he's on the run, and the sheriff's going after him.”

Lazarus stood silently, stunned by the news. He looked around almost as if he were looking for a way out of there. He shook his head.

“What do we do now?”

“It is imperative you find him before that damned sheriff does. I'm guessing you know where he'd go to stay out of sight.”

“Not for certain, but I have an idea.”

“Good. Go get that idiot and sneak him back into town in the middle of the night. Bring him to your room and make him stay here until I'm ready for him to confront Burke. If you have to tie his ass to the bed, so be it.”

“I'll do it. I'll leave right after the sun goes down.”

“Fine. And one more thing, I figure we'll have to change the plan a tad to get that deputy in a position to take James Lee down as soon as you shoot Burke. That way, there's no one left alive to connect you and me to the killings.”

“I understand, Judge. But how do we make sure the deputy is where we want him?”

“I've heard talk that the whore that owns the saloon has him wrapped up tighter than a pig for roasting. I'll have to drop a hint in her presence that there's a gunslinger looking to kill the sheriff. If she wants to make certain her lover is
out of harm's way, she should demand he stay off the street at a certain time and day.”

“Think she'll do what you suggest?”

“You bet she will.”

“Will
he
do
her
bidding?”

“Not if what I've heard about their relationship is true. He'll do just the opposite, which is just what I want.” Sanborn chuckled.

Lazarus walked to the window, parted the curtain, and said, “Judge, I think you've got yourself a mighty sound plan.”

C
otton! Bad news!” Jack was yelling at the top of his lungs as he burst into the sheriff's office. “That bastard Hogg is a dead man!”

“Wh-what the hell are you hollerin' about, Jack?”

“Lucy! She's dead. Hogg's beating ended up killin' her. Doc said she never regained consciousness. The son of a bitch crushed her skull.”

Cotton jumped up and went to the gun rack, grabbing a rifle.

“We better gather ourselves up a posse. Round up some fellows who might have an interest in catching Lucy's murderer and bring them over to the jail, pronto. Make sure they can ride and shoot,” Cotton said.

Jack turned on his heel and raced across the street to Melody's. What better place to find those who'd had a friendship of sorts with the young lady? Jack wasted no time at all. He came busting out of the saloon with half a dozen cowboys eager to take their revenge on James Lee Hogg.

Cotton stepped out and held up his hand. “Hang on,
fellas. I need to make certain you understand what we're settin' out to do.”

“Aww, hell, Sheriff, we know you don't want no hangin' on our way back. We can wait for it to be done all legal-like. So feel free to go ahead and deputize the lot of us,” said a grizzled cowboy who had likely had his share of friendly relations with the popular Lucy.

“All right, boys, as long as you understand the rules. Hold up your hands.”

Six arms shot into the air.

“Okay, that's good enough. You're all deputies. Get your horses and meet here in twenty minutes.” Cotton went back inside to retrieve some extra ammunition. Jack followed him through the door just in time to catch the box of cartridges Cotton tossed his way.

“We really goin' to bring him back for trial? Ain't that like leadin' the fox right to the hen house?” Jack said, with a tone of incredulity.

“You mean because the only judge we got is Sanborn? And of course everyone knows Hogg's in Sanborn's employ? And Hogg sure as hell ain't gonna get found guilty?”

“You know damned well that's what I mean,” Jack said.

Cotton ignored the question. He continued gathering whatever he figured to need for the mission. When he had tied a wide kerchief around his neck and put on his hat, he led Jack outside to the six anxious cowboys, mounted and ready and lined up in front of the jail.

Cotton and Jack swung into their saddles. Cotton took the lead, but he had gone no more than a hundred feet when Jack pulled alongside him with a quizzical look on his face.

“Far be it from me to question a sheriff as famous as Cotton Burke, but don't you think headin' in the direction Hogg most likely took would be more productive?” Jack had kept his voice down so as not to let the others know there might be a disagreement building in the ranks.

“No, I think we're headed in exactly the right direction. Do you figure differently?”

“Well, you know I do or I wouldn't have brought it up.
Hell, there's nothing for fifty miles goin' this way. Hogg ain't real smart, but he's smarter than to put himself on a run across a desert when he could be hiding safely in them piney forests to the north.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I take it you think I'm wrong.”

“Nope.”

“You agree?”

“Pretty much.”

“Then why don't we just turn around and pick up that owlhoot's trail in the right direction?”

“Because this is the right direction.”

“But you just said…Aww, hell, never mind. We'll just follow the wind and see where it takes us. That'll do as much good as what you're doin'.”

Jack's dissatisfaction over the way things were progressing was growing by the minute. He knew Melody would make his life miserable if he didn't come back with Lucy's murderer in tow. He also knew Cotton was the one in charge, and he couldn't change that, either.

Jack dropped back with the others, wearing a scowl as dark as the color the sky was turning over the distant mountains. Darkness would be on them in another hour or so. They weren't counting on camping overnight. The theory had been that the chase would be short. Hogg would be easy to find, and that would be that. They'd figured to grab him before he had a chance to get even farther away than he probably already had, and drag him back to Apache Springs; at least that was the way Cotton seemed to have figured it. Jack still hadn't climbed aboard that log wagon, though. That's when he made his move.

Jack reined his horse around and began heading back the way they'd come. He was a couple hundred feet behind the group when one of the other cowboys called out.

“Hey, Sheriff, where's Jack goin'?”

Cotton turned around and started after Jack like he was
a misbehaving child. He told the others to continue on and keep a sharp lookout for anything indicating they were on Hogg's trail. As he caught up to Jack, pulling alongside him, he reached over and took one of his deputy's reins.

“Hold up there, pardner, we haven't played this hand out just yet. I'll be needin' you when things start to get hot.”

“The only things hot around here are me and the weather. Goin' that direction won't ever find James Lee Hogg, and you damned well know it.”

“I do?”

“Yeah, you do. Why, only an idiot would try to evade a posse with nothing but scrub brush for cover. I could track someone across this sandy ground in the dark after havin' finished off a half bottle of brandy.”

“Uh-huh.”

“So why are you leadin' us nowhere? Don't you want to catch that no-good filth and see him get what's comin' to him?”