Lovell's Prize Page 15

  Lovell had never known Nix to ask such a personal question. He reacted with some surprise. "Fine, I guess. What's up?"

  Nix looked down at his papers uncomfortably. "Is she the only gal you're seeing?"

  "What the hell kind of question is that?" Lovell watched him for a reaction he could read.

  Nix smiled. "Something that ain't none of my damned business."

  "Then why did you ask?"

  "There's a rumor around that you might be dallying with a married woman. Judge Parker asked me to check it out."

  Lovell was incensed but decided to play along for a spell. "Even if I was, I hardly think it is Parker's business."

  Nix gave Lovell a hard look. "Parker dictates who gets deputy marshal assignments. If you buck him on this it could mean your job. You know how he is."

  Lovell hesitated. "Alright, I can buy into that. You're going to have to give me more information, Evett. You owe me that."

  Nix thought for a moment. "Yes, I think you're right. Alright, here's the story. Judge Parker has heard rumors that you've been bedding Bonny Black on the side. He doesn't think it looks good for a representative of his court to be dallying with the wife of one of the leading merchants in Fort Smith."

  "Where did he hear this?"

  "I can't say."

  "Bull shit. Even Parker allows a man to face his accuser."

  "Not this time. All he wants to know is whether there's any truth to it and if there is…well, he wants it settled."

  Lovell considered his response. He reasoned that John Black was probably behind the whole thing. He hobnobbed with Parker on occasion and something might have been said in an argument with Bonny to make him suspicious. He took a chair in front of Nix's desk. He decided to feed Nix just enough information to clear the matter but he had no intention of revealing the scope of their relationship to anyone. "I helped Bonny Black when her buggy broke down in the Territory about eight months back. She was in the process of leaving Black at the time. I escorted her back and met Black on the Cherokee Trace. We were together with her daughters for a couple of days. I liked the woman and we became friends. She came over to talk about her problems with John a couple of times after I bought my house. I haven't seen Bonny since I started going out with Amelia."

  Nix seemed pacified. "Good, that's what I'll tell the judge."

  "No, that's not all you'll tell the judge. I'm pretty sure I know where this rumor came from. If John Black can't manage his woman, he doesn't need to stir the shit and get my job laid on the line. I've been riding for this district for eight years. If my work is not good enough then let me go. But this has nothing to do with my work. I won't be the target of every John Henry in town who can't keep his woman bedded and happy at home. If Bonny Black isn't happy it's John Black's fault and not mine…and it damn sure ain't Parker's problem."

  Nix gave a slight smile. "You sure you want it worded just like that?"

  "Wasn't it plain enough? Do you tell him or do I?"

  "Oh, I'll tell him. With your temper and Parker's I don't believe a face to face confrontation is in order just now." He hesitated. "And then there's this business with Amelia. I've seen you and Amelia together. It looks good and it feels right. I don't want this rumor to be a part of messing that up for you. She's good for you, Don. You're more settled since you've been seeing her. I think you're a better marshal because of it."

  Lovell leaned forward. "My relationship with Amelia is none of your damned business, either. If you can't deal with that then you need to get yourself another deputy marshal."

  "Settle down, settle down. I'm not trying to run your private life. I consider myself your friend. I could tell that you were never entirely satisfied with Sadie Crawford but I kept my mouth shut. I had heard rumors about you and Bonny Black long before Parker brought it up and I kept my mouth shut. Amelia is a different story. I know her. I knew her when C. W. was still alive. She's a good woman and she's good for you…and damn it, you're good for her."

  Lovell leaned back in his chair and spoke sarcastically. "Why, Evett, I didn't know you were such an expert in the gentle affairs of the heart. You're really a very emotional fellow, aren't you?"

  Nix smiled meekly. "You don't let anybody in, do you? You can be a damned difficult man to like sometimes, Don."

  Lovell stood and went to the door without looking back. "It ain't none of your business. Don't pry into my private life." He closed the door behind him.

  Nix stared in silence, shaking his head. He looked back down at his papers. "Damned hard head," he muttered.

  Chapter 21

  Jim Flood drew up his mount and pointed toward a dead steer at the base of the wash. "There's your sign, boys. Them cattle are starting to fall apart. They're going to have to slow down or give up on this bunch or there won't be any cattle left to sell."

  Arch Blue and Cauly Pic nodded as they pulled their horses up beside his.

  Flood shook his head. "We'll be on them by tonight. Damn, I wish I had a marshal along. There ain't never one around when you need him."

  "The hell you say," Lovell said in a clear voice as he rode his gelding from behind a cluster of rocks along the edge of the wash.

  Flood smiled when he recognized Lovell. "I guess I spoke out of turn. How the hell did you find us?"

  "I found your camp. Shorty White told me the story and I've been trailing you for the last day. I figured I'd catch you somewhere around here. How many head did they get?"

  "About sixty, I reckon. Don't know for sure. They cut them out just after we crossed the Red with half my crew scattered along and in the river. They're brazen scallywags, that's for sure."

  "And trail bosses leave their herds to track rustlers nowadays?"

  "This one does. Shorty can keep the men and the herd in line. I want these gents and those cattle back."

  Lovell closed his gelding next to Flood's. "You can go back if you want to. I'll take care of it from now on if you need to be back with the herd."

  "We'll be on them by tonight. I figure they're making for the Washita River, to turn southeast and sell the herd at Tishomingo. They'll have to cross Caddo Creek and rest the herd before crossing the river. I'll stick for now. If it takes longer than a day I'll need to go back. I'll leave Cauly and Arch with you. I appreciate the help, Marshal."

  "It's my job. I'm glad to be of help. It's about time I managed more when we meet than just skimming your crew."

  Flood sighed. "I'll go along with that. We figure there's at least seven of them. Five are riding unshod ponies so we're probably after Chickasaws and a couple of dodgers."

  "Figures. Let's ride." Lovell started his gelding down the narrow trail leading across the wash.

  Cauly Pic leaned close to Flood. "Ain't that the marshal that gunned ole' Cud last spring?"

  "Sure is," Flood smiled.

  "And you want Arch and me to ride with him?"

  Flood stiffened. "You ride for the brand. If you can't, say so and I'll pay you off now."

  Cauly slumped in the saddle. "I'll ride. I ain't got no problem with it…I guess."

  Flood turned quickly toward Arch Blue. "What about you?"

  "I didn't say nothing, Jim. I got no problem with it."

  Flood turned back and spurred his mount to the trail. "Let's ride. Daylight's burning."

  They rode hard toward the Caddo, following an easy trail through brush and thicket. The low brush country was working against the rustlers as the tiring cattle balked in the heavy undergrowth. As they neared the Caddo, they found the herd abandoned and the trail of the rustlers leading north.

  "Never figured we'd push them this hard," Flood said with a smile.

  "Most outfits wouldn't have. You've ridden nearly seventy miles in two days. No cattle living can maintain such a pace."

  "These sure as hell couldn't. They like to run them to death. It'll be three days before we can drive them to the herd," Flood said.

  "I'm going on while I still have a trail. I figure these gents won
't be expecting someone to keep pressing them. They figured you'd have your hands full with the herd and give up on them."

  "I'm going with you," Flood said as he looked toward Cauly and Arch. "You boys keep them rested right here until they're fit to travel then push for the Chisholm. I should be back before you're ready to ride out."

  "And if you're not?" Cauly asked.

  "Then go without me. I should be along directly."

  "You don't need to do that, Jim," Lovell said. "You need to be with your herd."

  "I know I don't but I ain't about to let you face down seven men alone. I figure they'll head for Dresden or Woodford to whisky down. They'll be drunk, mad and full of fight. I'll ride along, I reckon."

  "Suit yourself," Lovell said. "I'll be glad for the company."

  It was nearing midnight when Lovell and Flood rode into Dresden, a four store settlement along the banks of the Washita. Seven tired horses were tied down in front of the Lotta Whis-Key saloon. A lone Indian was standing in front of the door watching the traffic. When Lovell and Flood rode into the light of the saloon window, the Indian stepped through the swinging door.

  "Figure he was a lookout?" Flood asked as he dismounted and pulled his Winchester.

  Lovell pulled Pete Syle's Greener from his right front scabbard and checked his loads. "Uh-huh, but there ain't no back door to this place and the horses are out here."

  "You got a plan?"

  "You stop at the door and cover my back with your Winchester. Meanwhile keep your eye on these horses and be attentive to anyone moving in the dark. I'll go in with the shotgun and make the arrest." He placed four heavy buckshot rounds in his vest pocket.

  "And if they make a fight of it?"

  "They'll scatter after I open up on them with this shotgun. Shoot anyone who's moving too fast. I figure if I don't get too close to them I can get a piece of most of them with one or the other barrel. I figure they'll play dumb and allow the arrest rather than make a fight of it. It's a hard thing to go up against a ten-gauge in close quarters."

  Flood lowered his lever and checked for a cartridge in the chamber of his Winchester. Seeing a cartridge rim in place he closed the lever and finished cocking the Winchester with his thumb.

  They stepped to the boardwalk and paused by the swinging doors.

  Lovell peered inside. "Good, they are all standing at the bar, trying to look innocent." He took a deep breath and cocked his shotgun. He realized that Flood was staring at him. "What is it?" he asked.

  Flood shook his head slowly. "You are really going in there with nothing more than a double-barreled shotgun in your hand and a revolver in your holster."

  Lovell smiled grimly. "It's my job."

  "I'd just shoot them from the doorway," Flood said.

  "No, I got to try the arrest. These boys are rustlers, not murderers. It's too hard to justify such a killing to Parker for a suspected rustling charge."

  Flood nodded slowly. "You got a shitty job, Lovell."

  Lovell smiled again, took another deep breath and stepped through the door. "You boys at the bar raise your hands and turn around."

  The men hesitated then slowly complied. As they turned, Lovell recognized Indian Joe Slowheels and Ace Beeman standing together. The others seemed to be little more than teenage Indian boys. "You boys Chickasaw?" Lovell asked.

  One of them nodded.

  "Place your guns and knives on the bar, boys, and step away from Slowheels and Beeman. Barkeep, you do the same."

  Jim Flood stepped through the swinging doors. "I'm behind you, Marshal," he said softly.

  Lovell nodded without taking his eyes off the rustlers. He recognized the Ivory grip of his Model 1860 Colt in Indian Joe's holster as the boys moved away from him. "Where's Lightfoot?" he asked Joe.

  Joe Slowheels shrugged without lowering his hands. "Quien sabe?"

  Lovell stepped forward and knocked a blow across Joe's head with his shotgun butt. Joe collapsed to the floor.

  "Damn," Jim Flood said under his breath.

  Lovell pulled his Colt from Joe's holster and tucked it into his gunbelt. "This gent was with Chauncy last summer when they beat hell out of me at Black Fork. Ain't that right, Joe?"

  Joe tried to clear his head and nodded slowly as blood trickled down his left temple.

  "What about you, Ace? Were you with them?" Lovell asked, just before he struck Beeman to the floor with the shotgun butt.

  Beeman rolled on his side and cringed. "What the hell was that for? I weren't with them. It was just Chauncy and Joe in on the deal."

  Lovell smiled. "Everyone remember hearing that?" he said in a loud voice.

  They all nodded.

  "Good. Joe, you're under arrest for cattle rustling and attempted murder of a federal officer."

  "If we'd a wanted to murder you, you'd be dead," Joe snapped.

  "That's why you're still kicking, Joe," Lovell grinned. "Remember that."

  Joe nodded sullenly.

  "Are there any Indian police around here?" Lovell asked the barkeep as he pulled Beeman's revolver and shoved it into his belt.

  He shook his head slowly. "Ain't been any around for several days."

  "You know these boys?"

  "No, I've never seen them before. They ain't from around here."

  Lovell looked to the boy who had answered first. "What's your name?"

  "O-Ga-Way," he answered softly.

  "Where you from?"

  "I live near Fort Arbuckle."

  "What about the rest of you?"

  They nodded.

  He turned back to O-Ga-Way. "How'd you boys get into this mess?"

  "For the money. Joe said we would get rich on the white man's cattle."

  "You know where Chauncy Lightfoot is?"

  "I do not know this man," O-Ga-Way answered.

  Lovell nodded and pointed his shotgun toward Slowheels and Beeman. "Get up, you're under arrest." He spoke to the Chickasaws without taking his eyes off Slowheels and Beeman. "I'm taking you boys to Tishomingo and turn you over to the Indian police."

  Beeman crawled to his feet and whined. "That ain't right. They're as guilty as we are."

  "I doubt that. Besides I ain't about to try to take seven of you all the way to Fort Smith without no deputies." He turned to the Chickasaws. "I want each of your names. I'll be satisfied with whatever the tribe decides to do with you."

  They nodded.

  "Alright, give your names to this gent with me." He tossed his vest pocket diary to Flood. "Write down their names, Jim."

  Flood lowered his Winchester and picked up the book. He carefully wrote down each boy's name and had them line up against the wall. "How do you know they're telling the truth?" he asked.

  "They're telling the truth. It would be a dishonor to give another name," Lovell said. He motioned to Beeman and Slowheels with the barrels of his shotgun. "You two turn around and put your hands behind your back." He motioned toward the barkeep. "You're under arrest, too. You know it's illegal to serve whisky to Indians."

  The barkeep shook his head and cursed. "Gott damn it! I knew you'd nail me for that. Listen, I got me a wife and kids to take care of. I can't afford to go to Fort Smith on those charges."

  "What's your name?" Lovell asked.

  "George Cassidy. I live here in Dresden."

  "I'm willing let the matter be settled in Tishomingo, if you can remember the law in the future."

  "I'll remember."

  "You know Chauncy Lightfoot?"

  Cassidy hesitated before nodding. "Yes, he was in here two days ago, looking for these two."

  "Stool pigeon!" Beeman yelled. "I'll remember you for that."

  Lovell struck Beeman across the back of the head, sending him to the floor. "Think about what you just said. If anything happens to this man or his family, you're a dead man."

  Beeman rose to his knees and nodded slowly.

  Lovell handcuffed both men and told them to sit at the table. "Where's Lightfoot?" he asked again.

/>   They shook their heads.

  "You can beat me to death but I won't squeal," Beeman said.

  Indian Joe stared at Lovell in silence.

  Lovell nodded acceptance. "I need you to write everything down, Jim. You'll probably have to testify in court. I'll send a notice to Caldwell or Dodge. Which will it be?"

  "Probably Dodge City. The market is better there," Flood said as he wrote down what he saw. "You want me to include the Indian boys' names?"

  "Write down everything you saw and heard as best you can remember it. Don't leave nothing out." He motioned toward the other tables. "You boys have a seat. We'll wait here until first light."

  They sat sullenly as Flood wrote in the diary. "I'll hand one thing to you, Lovell. I ain't seen anything like that since I was a boy and the old Rangers were running Texas. The only difference is that the Rangers would have shot or hung them all."

  Lovell nodded. "Times pass. We have to walk a strict line nowadays. I don't know what the world in coming to."

  "Do you need me to ride with you to Tishomingo?"

  "No, I can handle it from here on. You need to get back to your herd."

  "It's at least thirty miles to Tishomingo. That's a long ride for one marshal with eight prisoners."

  Lovell smiled coldly. "Two dollars an arrest, thirty miles times eight prisoners times six cents a mile. That comes to…let me see…that comes to $30.40. Heck, Jim, for big money like that I can afford the ride."

  Flood sighed, nodded and finished writing his report.

  Chapter 22

  Three Chickasaw policemen stepped to the front step of the Tishomingo jail to see the evening procession slowly riding down the street. The Indian boys rode in front, Slowheels and Beeman side by side following, and Lovell trailing with a cocked, double-barreled ten-gauge across the pommel of his saddle. The policemen stepped to the street and escorted the prisoners from their horses into the jail.

  Lovell did not dismount until all the prisoners were in the building. He sighed and uncocked the shotgun before stiffly dismounting.

  Levi Lonetree, the Chickasaw police chief, stepped from the station and watched Lovell gather his things. "What are the charges, Marshal?" he asked.