Ralph Compton Death Rides a Chestnut Mare (29 page)

“Unfortunately, he found me,” Danielle said, “but I refused to talk to him. I'm still here only because I decided to rest a couple of days before riding on.”

“I don't usually give advice unless it's asked for,” said Devlin, “but it might have been better if you had talked to DeVero. There's certain gossipy folks in town that are likely to give you a reputation you won't like.”

“Then they lie,” Danielle said. “I did what was right.”

“I believe you,” said Sheriff Devlin, “but don't be surprised if DeVero hints at some funny business between you and this woman, Ann Willard.”

“My God,” Danielle said, “Ann's old enough to be my mother. If that yellow-bellied, two-legged coyote prints anything close to that, I'll kill him.”

“Then I'd have to arrest you,” said Devlin. “It's kind of a Mexican standoff. While he can't prove there was anything goin' on, you can't prove there wasn't. Writers have a way of hinting at things without actually accusing anybody, and this Ann Willard is an almighty handsome woman.”

Sheriff Devlin departed, leaving Danielle alone with her thoughts. No longer hungry, she forced herself to eat, knowing her body had to gain strength. As she thought of DeVero and the lies he might tell, she decided to remain in Wichita long enough to read what he had to say. While she couldn't stop him from making her look bad in the press, she had no intention for it to appear she was running away.

 

 

When the story appeared in the Kansas City newspaper, it was even worse than Sheriff Devlin had suggested it might be. Danielle was furious, and one particular paragraph made her killing mad. It said:

There was much more, but Danielle refused to read it. A companion piece exploited the killing of Elmo and Ebeau Winters in Kansas City, suggesting that their father, Jubal, was also dead, since he had apparently disappeared. The only redeeming feature was a few lines quoting Sheriff Barnes, in which he stated flatly that Danielle had fired in self-defense. Grinding her teeth in frustration, Danielle went to supper. Tomorrow she would ride out, but the day wasn't over, and she expected the worst. It wasn't long in coming. There were half a dozen men in the cafe, and they grinned openly at her. Ordering her supper, she sat down to wait. In the distance there was a locomotive whistle, as the train neared Wichita on its way to the end-of-track. She had just begun to eat when the door opened and she was confronted by Herb Sellers and Jesse Burris.

“We put our horses in a boxcar and come here on the train,” Jesse said. “We didn't know if you'd still be here or not.” Uninvited, the two pulled out chairs and sat down.

“You read about me in the paper, I reckon,” said Danielle bitterly. “Believe it if you like. I don't give a damn anymore.”

“We'll believe it like
you
tell it,” Herb said, “and we'll stomp hell out of anybody that makes anything more of it.”

“I'm obliged,” said Danielle, “but I don't want either of you in trouble with the law because of me. The sheriff's already told me I can't shoot the no-account bastard that wrote the story, and that's the only thing that would give me any real satisfaction.”

“We'll hit 'em where it hurts,” Jesse Burris said. “When we've had supper, we'll make the rounds of all the saloons and win a pile of their money.”

“You and Herb go ahead,” said Danielle. “I'm going back to the hotel and rest. I aim to ride out early tomorrow.”

After supper, Danielle parted company with the two genial bounty hunters. Her wound seemed to have healed, but there was still some weakness in her right arm. The wound in her left thigh had healed to the extent that she no longer limped. Locking her door and placing a ladder-back chair under the doorknob, she stripped off her clothes and got into bed. It was a blessed relief, being rid of the hated binder, and she suspected the pressure of it had slowed the healing of the wound in her right side. But there was no help for that. She thought fondly of Ann and Anita Willard, and the secret that they kept.

 

 

Danielle was awakened by a knock on her door.

“Who is it, and what do you want?” she asked.

“Jesse and me,” said Herb Sellers. “We was big winners last night, and we'll buy your breakfast.”

“I'll eat with you,” Danielle said, “but I'm barely awake. Wait for me in the lobby.”

Danielle got up, feeling stronger. With the binder back in place, she was soon ready. She tipped her hat low over her eyes, buckled on her gun belts, and removed the back of the chair from beneath the doorknob. It was later than Danielle had believed, for the sun was already several hours high, its rays beaming through the lobby's open door.

“Herb and me slept late,” Jesse said. “We won a pile last night, and we had to give the varmints a chance to win their money back.”

Herb laughed. “They didn't win none of it back. Fact is, they lost some more, and we didn't run out. We stayed until the saloon closed.”

The trio had breakfast at one of the cafes alongside the Kansas-Pacific tracks. There was little talk until they finished eating, and it was Herb who spoke.

“Would you take kindly to Jesse and me ridin' with you? We got nothing to hold us here, and I think we'd better avoid that saloon tonight.”

“I reckon you're welcome to ride with me,” said Danielle, “but I want one thing understood. Bounty or not, when I find these yellow coyotes I'm looking for, they'll belong to me. Then you're welcome to any bounty. All I want is their scurvy hides.”

“When you find 'em, Herb and me will stand aside and let you get your satisfaction,” Jesse said.

The bank was across the railroad tracks from the hotel, and as Danielle, Herb, and Jesse neared the hotel entrance, Herb stopped.

“What is it?” Jesse asked.

“Them three
hombres
that's headin' for the bank's front door just left their horses behind the building, and the hitch rail's out front,” said Herb.

“No law against that,” Jesse said.

“No,” said Herb, “but somethin' about this don't look right. Let's wait a minute.”

Across the tracks, the three men entered the bank. Facing the tellers, they drew their guns.

“Don't nobody try nothin' foolish,” yelled one of the thieves, “and nobody gets hurt. We want them cash drawers opened, and we want only the big bills.”

But one of the tellers had a Colt in his cash drawer. When he drew it, one of the outlaws shot him. The teller's slug went wild, shattering the bank's front window with a tinkling crash. Fearfully, the other two tellers had emptied their cash drawers of large bills, and the outlaws scooped them up.

“The varmints are robbin' the bank!” Herb shouted as the echo of the shots faded.

Of a single mind, Herb, Jesse, and Danielle drew their Colts. Seconds later, the three robbers swung the bank's front door open, but before they could make a break for their horses, Herb challenged them.

“Halt, you varmints. You're covered.”

But the three went for their guns. Danielle's Colt was roaring, and when Herb and Jesse began firing a second later, it sounded like rolling thunder. The three bank robbers went down as men poured from nearby saloons and businesses. A man stepped through the bank's front door with a shotgun under his arm, just as Sheriff Bart Devlin arrived. Devlin paid no attention to anybody except the three men who had been gunned down after leaving the bank. He found the trio dead, with the bills they had taken scattered about. The sheriff then turned his attention to the trio in front of the hotel. They were calmly reloading their Colts. The banker who had stepped out the door with the shotgun was the first to speak.

“Jenkins, one of my tellers, is hard-hit, Sheriff. But for those three young men before the hotel, these thieves would have escaped.”

The sheriff said nothing, then crossing the street, he spoke to Danielle.

“I know you, but who are your friends?”

“Herb Sellers and Jesse Burris,” Danielle said. “We just had breakfast, and it was Herb who thought there was something unusual about those three men leaving their horses behind the bank. When we heard the shots, we knew they were robbing the bank.”

“A fine piece of work you gents have done,” said Sheriff Devlin. “You just gunned down the Fenner gang. Three brothers gone bad, wanted for robbery and murder. I want to talk to all of you in my office, after these dead men are removed.”

Some of the same men who had laughed at the cruel story in the Kansas City paper no longer laughed at Danielle. They moved aside respectfully, allowing Danielle, Herb, and Jesse to proceed along the boardwalk to Sheriff Devlin's office.

“There's a reward for them three
hombres,
” Sheriff Devlin said, when he returned to his office, “but I don't know how much. I'll have to look it up, and it'll take a few days to collect the money.”

“I aim to ride out this morning,” said Danielle. “See that Herb and Jesse get the reward. If Herb hadn't been suspicious, all of us would have been in the hotel when the robbery took place.”

Sheriff Devlin sat down at his desk and began going through wanted dodgers. He found the one he was seeking and spread it out on the desk. The trio had been wanted for murder and robbery in Kansas, Missouri, and Texas. The combined rewards were more than six thousand dollars.

“Daniel, it ain't fair, Jesse and me takin' all that,” said Herb. “Part of it's yours.”

“No,” Danielle said. “There's only one thing I want. If this Casper DeVero comes asking questions, don't tell him anything about me. I don't like him or his habits.”

“There'll likely be no avoiding him,” said Sheriff Devlin, “but I'll see that nothing is said to him that will be damaging to you. Anything he says about you in print is goin' to leave him looking like a fool, after that last piece he wrote. These varmints the three of you gunned down took twenty thousand dollars from that same bank last year. Morrison, the bank president, is grateful to you. He saw the whole thing as it happened. I'll see that Morrison gives DeVero a firsthand account.”

Danielle, Herb, and Jesse left the sheriff's office and started back toward the hotel.

“I reckon the two of you made a pretty good start at bounty hunting,” said Danielle.

“It's still not fair, us taking all the bounty,” Jesse said.

“It is as far as I'm concerned,” said Danielle. “I'm not of a mind to stay here longer than it takes to saddle my horse. That bounty will be enough eating money until you can track down some more outlaws with a price on their heads.”

“I have a problem I never expected,” Herb said. “I feel . . . well . . . guilty, gunning down a man for money.”

“You shouldn't,” said Danielle. “None of us
knew
there was a reward when we bought into that fight. We did the right thing, and if we hadn't taken those thieves by surprise, it might be one or all of us lying dead.”

“That's right,” Jesse said. “This same bunch robbed the same bank last year, but they won't ever do it again. Maybe it'll send a message to the rest of the thieves and killers holed up in Indian Territory.”

The trio reached the hotel. Herb and Jesse waited in the hall while Danielle went into her room for her few belongings and saddlebags. It was time for parting, and Danielle was anxious to be gone. She genuinely liked these two cowboys, and while she didn't condemn them for bounty hunting, their motivation was entirely different from her own. How often had she read of men like Bill Hickok, John Wesley Hardin, and Ben Thompson, who had become legends as a result of their speed and accuracy with a gun? It was just such a name she didn't want, and yet the more often she had to use her guns, the more likely she was to find herself with the very same unwanted reputation. Reaching the livery, she paid her bill and saddled Sundown. She rode out quietly, glad to be escaping any further contact with the newspaperman, Casper DeVero. St. Joe wasn't that far from Kansas City, and for the first time, she wondered what her mother and brothers would think of the ridiculous story DeVero had written.

 

 

Danielle chose not to light a fire. Finding a source of water, she ate jerked beef for her supper. She then fed the chestnut mare a measure of grain. She had no illusions about finding any of the men she sought in Indian Territory, for it was a gloomy, dreary place. A man could remain there only so long, for thieves who had money would be eager to get to a town with saloons and whorehouses. Danielle spread her blankets near where Sundown was picketed, depending on the horse to warn her of any impending danger. But the night passed peacefully, and Danielle then rode south. Despite the difficulties she had experienced in Waco, she still believed some of the outlaws she was hunting were in Texas, and it was there she intended to go. She now regretted having left south Texas so quickly, for there was a good chance some of the fugitives from her list might be there. With only the river between Texas and old Mexico—despite her riding into an ambush while with Joel Votaw's outfit—she still believed that horse rustling flourished along the border. Done properly, there was little risk from authorities on either side of the river. Suddenly a distant horse nickered, and the chestnut mare answered. It was all the warning Danielle had. A rifle roared, and she rolled out of the saddle, going belly-down. One of the slugs had grazed Sundown, and the animal galloped away.