High Wild Desert (13 page)

“I want you to ride out and tell Coyle the Ranger's here,” Teague said. He grinned. “It's time we start getting under the Ranger's skin a little. Soften him up some, make sure he'll step out on the street with Coyle when the time comes.”

“I'm on my way,” said Sonny, making his way to where his horse stood at a hitch rail.

•   •   •

Inside the jail, a town councilman turned from the front window toward the Ranger as Dankett stopped the line of prisoners and closed the door behind them.

“Councilman Childers,” said Dankett, “here's Ranger Burrack, just like he said he would be.” He turned to Sam and said, “Ranger, meet Town Councilman Felix Childers.”

“Ranger, we are glad you could make it,” said Childers, extending a hand to the Ranger.

Shaking hands, Sam nodded and looked around as Dankett motioned the prisoners over behind the chalk line on the floor.

“Ranger, as you can see, we're in the process of building a dandy jail and sheriff's office here. We hope to have it finished in due time.” He smiled with an air of patience toward the project.

“By tomorrow morning,” Sam said quietly but firmly.

“Pardon me?” said Childers. He looked taken aback.

“You heard me right, Councilman,” Sam said. “Get a carpenter crew over here
now
and have a holding wall finished and in use by morning.”

“But, Ranger,” said the stunned councilman, “we can't possibly have it completed that soon. These things take time. Sheriff Rattler was a patient man. We're all hoping that you would be the same—”

“By morning,” Sam repeated. “That gives them today and tonight if they need it. If it's not finished by morning I'll give these men their guns back and set them loose on your streets. I'll take
my
deputy and ride out of here.”

Childers looked at Dankett, then back at Sam.

“Dankett is going to be your deputy?” he said, still sounding shocked.

“Yes, he is,” Sam said. “If that's a problem, you and him walk out back and discuss it between yourselves. Otherwise, let my deputy and me get to work while you rustle us up some carpenters and make this place a jail instead of a
joke.
” He saw a slight grin show on Dankett's pale face. He continued, saying, “If the jail was finished the way it should have been, Dankett could have handled this town by himself instead of sitting here warming a chair bottom, waiting for some prisoner to make a move on him.”

“Ranger, I—” Childers managed to say before Sam cut him short.

“If you want the law to work, Councilman,” Sam said, “you've got to give the lawmen what they need to
make
it work.” He looked at Dankett. “Do you agree, Deputy?”

“Chapter and verse,” Dankett said. He took a step toward the councilman and said, “Or are we going to talk out back about me staying on as deputy?”

“No! No indeed, Deputy,” said Childers. “If the Ranger wants you, it's fine with me. I mean with
the council
. I mean with the
town
,
that is,” he corrected himself nervously. He backed toward the front door, his derby hat in hand. “I best get going if I'm to get this holding cell completed by morning.” He started to leave, then caught himself and said in afterthought, “Oh, and I'll have them bring lanterns, in case they have to work throughout the night.”

“Good thinking, Councilman,” Sam said as the man hurried on out the door.

“What do you want me to do, Ranger?” Dankett asked, looking excited at the prospect of getting a real and complete jail.

“For now, string everybody together with handcuffs and cuff them to the iron ball, Deputy,” Sam said. “Then get us a doctor or whoever you've got here to take a look at their wounds.”

“You've got it, Ranger,” Dankett said. He turned to the prisoners and said, “All right, everybody close together. Let's get you cuffed until the doctor gets here.”

Toy Johnson struggled to his feet and called out to Sam, “You've got no reason to hold me and Carnes. What's your charge? We didn't shoot you. You shot us.”

“Believe it or not, Johnson, some call it a crime, trying to kill a lawman,” Sam said. “But that aside, I am setting you both free as soon as the doctor says you can ride.”

Johnson and Carnes looked at the Ranger in disbelief.

“With our guns?” Carnes asked.

The Ranger just stared at him.

“Shut up, Randall. That's pushing our luck,” Johnson said.

“You're letting them go?” Dankett asked just between him and the Ranger.

“Don't worry, Deputy,” Sam replied. “They're not leaving before we get this jail finished.”

Chapter 13

At a campsite outside New Delmar, Little Deak Holder and Blind Simon Goss had managed to scavenge a large, ragged canvas and make an overhead lean-to of it to shield them from the harsh sun. Between the lean-to and a large line of wind-sculpted sandstone rock, Sieg had built a campfire and set a pot of coffee to boil. Beside the coffeepot, he'd stood a kettle of water to boil for evening stew.

As Sieg fed more broken-up brush into the fire, he looked up and saw Dave Coyle riding the trail back from town with a one-horse buggy rolling along beside him.

“It looks like your brother found us a doctor, Oldham,” Sieg called out to where Oldham Coyle sat on a blanket beneath the overhang, cleaning his big Colt.

Oldham looked up from his broken-down Colt and out along the trail. But it was Chic Reye who replied from his seat atop a low rock.

“About damn time,” he said in a weak, strained voice. “I wouldn't have made it another hour, bad as I'm shot.”

Oldham gave him a dubious look and blew through his gun barrel. He looked through the clean, shining barrel and snapped it back to the frame of the Colt.

“Stop your bellyaching, Chic,” he said.

“
Bellyaching?
Jesus, Oldham, I'm shot! Look at me here,” said Reye in a thick, pained voice. A bloody bandana circled his face, a knot tied atop his head holding it in place. His left hand clutched a large circle of blood on his navel.

“Yeah, we all saw it,” said Oldham, sounding unconcerned. “If we hadn't seen it, we all would have heard about it a hundred times since this morning.”

“Not shot just once . . . but
twice
,”
Reye went on, “by that sneaking, murdering little son of a bitch
.”

“It's hard for us to draw up much sympathy when we've all watched you bully and gripe so much about Little Deak that he finally had to shoot you to shut you up.”

Reye looked over to where Little Deak and Blind Simon stood picking through some cookware and eating utensils left by some former campsite inhabitants. The two turned toward Dave and the arriving buggy, then started walking to the lean-to.

“I'll shut up for now,” Reye said as Dave and the buggy drew closer to camp. “But soon as I'm able to draw and cock a hammer, I'm going to set things straight—”

“Listen to you,” said Oldham. “You're still bleeding from the last time the little fellow had to clean your clock. You're already getting set for him to do it again.”

“I'll clean
his
clock next time,” Reye grumbled. “Not only clean it, I'll stop it altogether—”

“Shut up, Chic,” Oldham said in a dark warning tone punctuated by the sound of his newly assembled Colt being cocked in his hand. “I just cleaned this gun. Don't make me dirty it on you.”

Reye took the warning seriously and sat in silence as Dave Coyle and the one-horse buggy reined in close to the lean-to overhang and stopped. Dust bellowed in their wake. Finally Reye managed to take a deep breath as Dave stepped down from his saddle. A thin, short man wearing an eye patch hopped off the buggy carrying a black leather doctor's bag.

“I don't know what gets me so upset like this,” Reye said, his fingers getting bloody pressed to his navel.

“Are you apologizing?” Oldham asked.

“Yeah, more or less,” Reye said humbly.

“Then save it for Deak and Simon,” Oldham said dryly, standing up as Dave and the doctor walked under the overhang.

“I take it this is my patient?” the doctor said, his patched eye slightly cocked to one side to give him a better view. He stooped beside Reye as he spoke and set the bag in the dirt.

Reye gave him a sour look up and down. The doctor snapped the bag open.

“Are you going to be able to
see
how to patch me up?” Reye said gruffly. “I've had my fill of blind fools and sawed-off little sons a' bitches.”

The doctor snapped the bag shut.

“Well . . . all through here,” he said, standing. He started to turn toward his buggy, but Dave stepped in and blocked his way.

“Whoa, Doctor, hold on,” Dave said. “We know he's a damn fool. But if you won't treat him, we'll prop him against a rock and leave him for the night feeders.”

“Suits me,” the doctor said. “Night feeders have to eat too. I have too many sick people to have to waste time being insulted.” He started to step around Dave, but the big gunman continued to block him.

“Dr. Starr, we're paying cash,” he said, but it was the sinister look on Dave's face that stopped him more so than the promise of money.

“All right, then,” said the thin doctor, turning back to Reye. “But he'll keep his mouth shut unless spoken to.
Agreed?
”
he asked Reye pointedly.

“Agreed . . . ,” Reye said. He bowed his head a little. “I don't know what makes me say things like that.”

“
You
don't know, and
I
don't care,” Dr. Starr said curtly. He set the bag back on the ground, pulled Reye's hand away from his bleeding belly and peeled off the blood-sodden bandana. “This is most rare,” he murmured. “A perfectly centered hole in the navel—has to hurt like the dickens, I'll wager.” He glanced around. “But well aimed nevertheless.”

“Wait until you see his face,” Little Deak said with a slight smile. He stood watching from the edge of an overhang, Simon standing right beside him.

The doctor looked at the dwarf, who stood not a lot shorter than he did, and at the blind man, who had only one less eye than himself. He nodded, connecting these two to Reye's prickly attitude.

“I dread looking . . . ,” he said almost under his breath, spreading Reye's bloody shirt open. “But first things first. Whoever shot you here most fully intended to kill you, fellow,” he said to Reye.

“Don't I know it?” Reye said, staring past the doctor's shoulder at Little Deak, who gave him a thin smile and clicked his short thumb up and down toward the wounded disgruntled gunman.

Dave stepped around the doctor and his patient and stooped down beside Oldham's blanket.

“I expect I might just as well tell you, I saw the Ranger heading into town while the doc and I were leaving,” he said.

Oldham looked surprised that Dave had shared the information with him, yet he nodded and let it go, glad that his brother was starting to accept his idea, if not warm to it.

“Did he see you?” he asked.

“Would it matter if he did?” Dave asked.

“No,” said Oldham. “Just wondering.”

“I doubt he saw me,” Dave replied anyway. “We were well out one end of town. I looked back and saw him guiding a string of riders in off the desert floor. He had one strapped over his saddle. Two more looked shot up some.” He paused, then added, “The two upright looked like Toy Johnson and Randall Carnes.”

“Johnson and Carnes . . . ,” Oldham mused. “He does stay busy, that Ranger.”

“Yes, he does,” said Dave somberly. “And he's not a man to treat lightly.”

“I know that, brother Dave,” Oldham said more seriously. “That's why I need you and Deak, both with your bark on, watching my back until I get this thing done.”

Dave shook his head and let out a tense breath.

“I'm there,” he said. “Let's just get it done quick and get it over with.”

“We will, brother,” Oldham said. He gave him a grin. “But not so quick that we can't have some fun with it.”

“
Fun . . . ?
Damn the fun,” Dave said angrily. “There's nothing going to be fun about it.”

“We'll see, brother Dave,” Oldham said. He was still grinning, hefting the shiny, clean Colt he still held in his hand.

•   •   •

Sam sat watching the prisoners when Deputy Dankett returned from Dr. Starr's office alone and closed the front door behind him. Adele Simpson had left earlier, leading her black barb and the roan and all of her belongings to a weathered half-pine-board, half-adobe hotel named the Desert Rose at the end of the block.

“Dr. Starr's gone on a visit, Ranger,” Dankett said, his long-barreled shotgun cradled in his left arm. “He left a note on his door. Didn't say when he'd be back. I stopped by the Number Five and asked a dove named Lila to come give a hand. She's good at birthing, cutting hair, treating fever and whatnot. Said she'd be right along, soon as she finishes trimming a miner.”

Sam stood and took a breath, staring at the three sweaty, wounded prisoners who gazed back at him. They sat leaning against the plank wall, the big iron ball on one end of the chain, the men strung wrist to wrist by handcuffs on the other end.

“There you have it, men,” Sam said to the three prisoners. “Help is coming, soon as a miner gets his hair trimmed.”

The three groaned as one. Johnson sat with his leg stiff and covered with dark dried blood beneath the wound in his hip.

“Damn it,” he said. He struggled to his feet, jerking Lang's cuffed hand up with him. “Can I at least get out back to the jakes before I spring a leak here?”

Dankett and the Ranger looked at each other.

“What about you two? I suppose you both have to go also,” he said to Cisco Lang and Randall Carnes.

“I've been needing to,” Carnes said. “I just didn't want to say so, especially while the lady was here.”

“That's well mannered of you, Carnes,” Lang said with a bitter tone. “But that woman couldn't care less if you'd pissed on the wall.”

“That's enough of that, Cisco,” Sam said, glancing around as if to make sure Adele wasn't still there. He looked at Dankett. “Let's lead them out back before the dove gets here.”

Dankett turned toward the three prisoners quickly enough to startle them.

“All right, you heard the Ranger!” he shouted. “On your feet. We're going to the jakes. Anybody makes a false move, it'll be their last.” He looked back at the Ranger as the three hurriedly stood up along the wall. “There they are, Ranger, ready and waiting for orders.”

“Good work, Deputy,” Sam said, liking the way Dankett's fiery unsettled nature kept the prisoners a little off balance.

He watched as Dankett loosened the chain from the large ball and marched the three in a tight line to the side door—Johnson limping badly—that led outside to a new pine-plank privy.

Walking a few feet behind, his Winchester in hand, Sam noted that the privy was wide enough to accommodate two patrons at a time, but for safety's sake, he wouldn't allow that.

“Loosen them one at a time, Deputy,” he said to Dankett.

“You heard the Ranger,” Dankett said, “one at a time.”

As Sam stood watching, he heard a faint cry in the distance, like the soft meowing of a weak or injured cat. He waited, listening, as the first prisoner entered the privy and came back out. As the second man entered, he heard the sound again, and this time it piqued his interest enough to cause him to stare off in its direction.

“What is it, Ranger Burrack?” Dankett asked, seeing Sam look toward a stretch of rocky ground lying behind the main street of New Delmar.

“What's over there?” Sam asked, gesturing a nod, without taking his eyes off the direction of the faint sound.

“Nothing,” said the deputy. “Just the makings of a new town dump. It was the town public ditch before these jakes got built and stuck here and there. Now nobody goes there except to dump garbage and the like. Why?”

“I heard something,” Sam said. “Couldn't tell if it's a cat or a person. But I heard it from back behind the Number Five.”

“Yep, that'd be the public ditch all right,” Dankett said. “You'd best hope it's a cat. If it's a person, he's neck deep in stuff back there too ugly to mention by name.”

“Shhh—there it is again,” Sam said. He listened intently as Johnson limped out the door of the jakes and stepped back into line. Dankett snapped a cuff on his wrist and turned Lang loose. Lang stepped into the privy and closed the door.

Sam stood listening closely, staring toward the rocky ground behind the saloon until Lang walked out of the privy buttoning his fly and got in line. Sam watched Dankett snap Lang's cuff back around his wrist.

As the three prisoners walked to the side door and stepped inside the jail, Sam stood to the side and waited until Dankett got them seated along the wall. When the three were secured once again to the large iron ball, he motioned Dankett over to him.

“Get them settled,” Sam said. “I'm going to see where that sound is coming from.”

“You got it, Ranger,” said Dankett. “Fire a shot if you need help.”

“Don't leave these prisoners alone, Deputy,” Sam told him pointedly. “Shot or no shot.”

“I won't,” said Dankett. “If I hear you shooting, I'll bring them with me.”

“All right, just bring Lang,” Sam said. “Leave the other two cuffed to the ball. I just want them here to get the jail cell finished. If they break out before they get medical treatment, that'll be their problem.”