Evil Never Sleeps Read online

  “Hey,” Elmo called out. “Ain’t you gonna feed us no breakfast?”

  “You’ll eat when I eat,” Will yelled back at him. “That’ll be when we stop to rest the horses, so just sit back and enjoy the ride.” He figured it to be about sixty miles due east to Atoka where Jim Little Eagle had a jail of sorts, good enough to park his two prisoners for a while. And he planned to make it in one day because he had not given up on running Preacher McCoy to ground. In fact, he was more determined to catch up with him than before. He could leave the extra horses with Jim also and arrange to feed the prisoners. As he had done on other occasions, he would make a deal with the Choctaw policeman to reimburse his expenses by sharing some of the weapons, ammunition, and a couple of good saddles he had confiscated. While in Atoka, he would wire Fort Smith to bring Dan Stone up to date on the Texas outlaws. Dan could decide whether to send a couple of deputies from Fort Smith to transport Lon and Elmo back for trial.

  Will drove his train pretty hard before stopping beside a creek to rest the horses. By the time he pulled each one of his prisoners out of their saddles, one by one, and tied them to a tree while he built a fire to cook some bacon, they were pretty much subdued. Elmo had quit scanning the hills and gullies they passed, searching for likely places where Preacher might be waiting. Reluctant as he was to admit it, he was beginning to believe that Preacher had, in fact, abandoned them.

  “Where the hell is Preacher?” Lon demanded when Will walked to the edge of the creek to fill his coffeepot. “On his way to Kansas to spend our money,” he said, answering his own question. “The son of a bitch. There’s been a hundred places where he coulda picked that deputy off with a rifle.” He shot an accusing glance in Elmo’s direction and added, “And don’t talk to me about how faithful a partner he is.”

  Elmo was hard-pressed to come up with any reasonable answer. He had been so sure Preacher would make an attempt to free them, but he could not argue with Lon. It was surely beginning to look like Preacher had taken the money and run. It was doubly hard to accept, since he had held Preacher in such high regard for so long. It was as soul-wrenching as when he was a small boy and was told there was no Santa Claus. “Maybe he ain’t figured out which way this feller is takin’ us. There ain’t no way he coulda got in front of us to set up an ambush. He might still be on the way.”

  “On the way to Kansas,” Lon scowled. “When I get loose from this bastard, I’ll damn sure find Preacher McCoy. I don’t need to count on Preacher to set me free. It’s a helluva long ride from here to Fort Smith. There’s gonna be a time when that deputy slips up and when he does, he’s a dead man.” He broke off the conversation when Will approached with two plates of bacon and set them down by each man. Then he untied their hands from the trees, but left their legs tied. “This ain’t much to feed a man,” Lon complained.

  “It’ll hold you till we get to Atoka,” Will said. “I’ll make arrangements to feed you a little better over there. Coffee will be done directly. That’ll help.”

  “What’s your name, Deputy?” Elmo suddenly asked.

  “Tanner,” Will answered.

  “I ain’t never heard of you,” Lon sneered.

  “Good,” Will replied, and continued with his instructions. “When you get through eatin’, I’ll leave your hands untied, so you can lay back on the ground if you feel like it. I know what you’re thinkin’. What’s to keep me from untyin’ my feet from this tree? Well, I’ll tell you. This Winchester 73 will do the trick, ’cause I won’t be lyin’ back restin’. I’ll be watchin’ you.”

  “What if I gotta take a leak?” Lon asked.

  “Your hands will be free. You can unbutton your trousers and just let it fly right up against the tree trunk. But don’t let me see those hands messin’ with that knot holdin’ your ankles together. Like I already told you, I’ll treat you right as long as you behave yourself, but it’s a lot less trouble for me if I shoot you.”

  “You’ve kinda got a hard bark on you, ain’t you?” Lon couldn’t resist asking, judging by the calm and unemotional manner of the deputy. “It’s a long ride from here to Fort Smith. You might get kinda tired if you ain’t plannin’ to sleep between now and then.”

  “I expect you might be right about that,” Will answered. “But you ain’t goin’ to Fort Smith right away. You’ll be sleepin’ tonight in Atoka.”

  Will’s announcement fairly jolted Lon. He had counted on a long ride to Fort Smith and a likely opportunity to catch the deputy in a careless moment. His brain began to swirl in a panic to escape. He had no intention of being hauled into Judge Parker’s court to be tried, or worse, shipped back to Texas where he would face murder charges on top of robbery. He was going to have to make his move before they made Atoka tonight. He looked up at Will and found the deputy studying him. It was almost as if they were each reading the other’s mind as their eyes met. There was a silent challenge that rose between them. Will had seen it before, in the eyes of other prisoners, and cautioned himself to be wary, knowing that he was going to be tested before he reached Atoka.

  When Will decided the horses were rested enough to continue, he put out his fire and went to the edge of the creek to rinse the plates and cups. Since he was about ten or twelve yards away from the two trees where his prisoners were tied, Lon decided to test Will’s order not to fiddle with the rope tying their feet. He whispered to Elmo, “He ain’t payin’ us much attention while he’s rinsin’ them plates and he left that rifle he’s always got in his hand propped up against a rock by the fire. I just might get this knot untied, if he keeps his back half-turned like he is right now, and I can beat him to that rifle.”

  Elmo didn’t say anything in response, just shook his head doubtfully, as Lon raised himself to a sitting position. Very slowly, he reached around the tree and felt the hard knot holding him to it. It was not a chain-lightning response from the deputy, yet it was smooth and efficient, and unhurried, as he turned and drew the .44 from his holster. The shot that came a split second later slammed into the water oak dead center of the trunk on a level with Lon’s eyes. Lon jerked backward so hard that Elmo thought he had been hit. Elmo, his eyes big as saucers, watched the solemn lawman return the weapon to its holster, showing no sign of concern, as he bent down to pick up the plates. Lon, on the other hand, was about to choke on his spit. “You coulda blowed my head off!” he blurted.

  “If that tree was just a wee tad smaller, I might have, for a fact,” Will said. “I ain’t ever fancied myself as much of a shot with a handgun, but I figured I oughta be able to hit a tree, seein’ as I was so close to it.”

  “Dead center,” Elmo couldn’t resist announcing. He was convinced the deputy was a lot better shot with a handgun than he admitted.

  “I was just tryin’ to scratch my foot,” Lon lied.

  “Best just let it itch next time,” Will said. When he finished packing up the cooking utensils, he picked up his rifle before coming back to untie Lon’s ankles. He stood back then, his rifle aimed at Lon. “Get on your horse,” he ordered, and watched while Lon tiptoed gingerly over to the horse. Since his prisoner’s hands and feet were untied, Will was especially alert for an attempt to escape. It was not long in coming. “Put your hands behind your back,” he ordered. Instead of complying, Lon suddenly gave his horse a sharp kick with his heels. The horse, confused because it was tied to a lead rope to another horse, began to buck and sidestep, since it couldn’t gallop. When Will tried to grab the horse’s bridle, Lon saw it as his opportunity, and threw himself at him, only to be stopped in midair by the butt of Will’s Winchester against his nose. Taking a step back, Will stood with the rifle aimed at Lon, who was struggling to regain his senses. “Are you done?” Will asked calmly. With blood streaming from his broken nose and busted lip, Lon could only nod weakly in response. With considerable effort, he managed to get up on all fours. Will gave him a minute or two to recover before ordering, “All right, let’s try it again, we’re wastin’ daylight.” Lon struggled to hi
s feet and lumbered to the horse again. This time, he managed to pull himself up into the saddle and dutifully place his hands behind his back to be tied. When he was settled, Will returned to Elmo. “How ’bout you?” Will asked. “Are you fixin’ to make your move?”

  “No, sir,” Elmo said with half a chuckle. “I druther just climb on the regular way, if it’s all the same to you.” When he was seated in the saddle with his hands tied behind his back, he couldn’t resist japing his partner. “I swear, Lon, that was the damnest fool thing I’ve ever seen a man try. Does your nose hurt?”

  “Go to hell,” Lon snapped.

  CHAPTER 6

  As Will led his two prisoners along Muddy Boggy Creek, the partnership of the Cotton and Treadwell families rode into the town of Durant, over thirty miles away. Spotting the tent with the wooden façade and the sign proclaiming it to be a saloon, they headed straight for it, passing up the general store and the Texas House Hotel. “I could use a drink right now,” Luther Treadwell declared.

  “That goes for me, too,” Liam, his eldest son, piped up.

  Riding beside Liam, Cecil Cotton commented, “I reckon we could all use one.” Then unable to resist teasing his brother, who was dark-complexioned with coal-black hair, he added, “All but Emmett, anyway. Don’t reckon they’ll serve him ’cause he looks like a damn Injun.”

  “You go to hell,” Emmett responded, to chuckles from the others. He was a frequent recipient of his older brother’s japing.

  After tying the horses, the six men went inside the huge tent to be greeted by Pete Watkins. “Howdy, what’s your pleasure, gents?” He made it as friendly as he could affect, seeing as how gangs this size in Indian Territory most often meant trouble for somebody. He hoped he was not that particular somebody. “You fellers passin’ through on your way north?”

  “Why do you wanna know that?” Jeb asked. “What makes you think we’re headin’ north?”

  “Why, no reason,” Pete replied, afraid he had said something to make him mad. “Just makin’ conversation, I reckon. We see a lotta folks comin’ outta Texas, headin’ north. I just hadn’t seen you boys around here before.”

  “Set up some glasses,” Luther ordered. He paused while he watched Pete pour six shots of whiskey. “It’s been a while since we rode through this little town and you weren’t here last time we came through. You figure if we came up from Texas, we must be on the run from the law, right?” He paused to hear his answer, but when Pete began to stutter, looking for a suitable reply, Luther continued. “As a matter of fact, we’re Texas lawmen and we’re lookin’ to meet up with Deputy Will Tanner. Has he been through here lately?”

  “Matter of fact, he has,” Pete answered, “two or three days ago.”

  “Did he say where he was headin’ when he left here?” Jeb asked immediately.

  Aware of the urgency in Jeb’s voice, Pete paused to think before answering. He didn’t believe for a moment that the gang of six men were really lawmen, and he really didn’t care what their reason for being in Indian Territory was as long as it didn’t include trouble for his tiny business. He hadn’t been in Durant long enough to know Will Tanner, anyway, so he didn’t know why he should care whether these men in his saloon right now were intent upon tracking the deputy down or not. Actually, he thought, there was another possibility. They just might like to know where Tanner was, with the notion of trying to avoid him. With that in mind, he decided there was no harm in telling them what they asked. “Well, sir,” he started. “I can’t say for sure where he was headin’ when he rode outta here. But if I had to guess, I’d say he most likely headed up toward Tishomingo. You see, we had a little trouble here last week.” He went on to relate the events that led to the murder of two men. “Tanner showed up a couple of days after the two that done the shootin’ hightailed it outta here. He went after ’em. Left here on the trail to Tishomingo.”

  Luther turned to smile at Jeb before turning his attention back to Pete. “On the trail to catch two outlaws, is he? Well, I guess we just missed him.” He cut Liam off when his son started to ask a question. “Drink up, boys, we gotta go cook up some breakfast,” Luther said, not willing to discuss any plans with Pete standing there listening.

  The discussion began as soon as they walked out of the saloon with Luther’s chuckling comment. “Well, now how’s that for luck? We were worryin’ about where to run up on the son of a bitch and he was right here a couple of days ago.” He winked at Jeb. “I’d say that’s a sure-’nough sign that we’re gonna run this coyote to ground.”

  “While he’s trailing them two gunmen, we’ll be trailin’ him,” Jeb said. “It won’t hurt to have him thinkin’ about them, but we need to catch up as quick as we can.”

  “When we catch up,” Cecil said, “I’m thinkin’ it oughta be my right to kill him.”

  “What the hell gave you that idea?” Emmett immediately challenged. “Billy was my brother, too. When you get right down to it, Billy would druther have me do it ’cause me and him was a lot closer. You always thought you could order him around, Mr. Big Shot.”

  Enjoying what promised to be an argument that might develop into a fight, Liam and Ethan Treadwell gathered close beside the two waiting to see the first blow land. In the event it developed into a fistfight, they had no doubt who would prevail. Cecil was a good two inches taller than his brother, and probably twenty pounds heavier. But Emmett would make a fight of it out of his relentless determination. Liam winked at Ethan when the Cotton brothers moved up to stand face-to-face. “You’d better step back away from me,” Cecil threatened, “before I flatten that little girl nose of yours.”

  “I’d like to see you try,” Emmett replied. “You might be older’n me, but I’ll kick your ass proper.” Before Cecil could reply, he was jolted by a foot in the seat of his pants when his father decided to put a stop to their childish behavior.

  “You two make me ashamed I ever fathered you,” Jeb sneered. “This is serious business we’re about right now and if you two can’t behave like grown men, I’ll send you home to stay with your mama. Now, git over there and start fixin’ that sowbelly. We need to be ready to ride as soon as the horses are ready.” They obeyed him immediately and when they went to the fire, Jeb said to Luther, “I’m sorry, Luther. They look like grown men, but so far, they ain’t growed a damn thing between their ears.”

  They took the time to eat some breakfast and as soon as they agreed the horses were ready to go again, they mounted up and started out toward Tishomingo, confident that the deputy’s trail would not be that hard to follow.

  * * *

  Mary Light Walker paused when she saw the riders leading extra horses approaching her cabin on Muddy Boggy Creek. She left her bucket by the edge of the creek and hurried into the cabin to alert her husband. “Come quick. Will Tanner’s coming with some men and a string of horses.” Jim Little Eagle got up from the table, where he had been finishing the last of his coffee after eating supper, and hurried outside.

  When the riders came a little closer, Jim could see that the two behind Will had their hands tied behind their backs. He also noticed the two empty saddles. “Hi-yo, Will,” he called out when they entered the yard. “Looks like you caught those two you were chasing.”

  “Howdy, Jim, Mary,” Will replied politely with a nod toward Jim’s wife. “Turned out there was four of ’em, robbed the bank down in Sherman, Texas. I’m takin’ these two back to Fort Smith, but the big one got away with the money. I’d like to park these two gentlemen in your jail while I go after him. Anybody in your jail now?” He asked the question because the log cabin Jim used for a jail was really little more than a smokehouse that had been converted to hold prisoners. And more than two or three prisoners made conditions a little crowded.

  “No, nobody in there now. I just cleaned it out good yesterday. I locked a drunk Chickasaw up in there Sunday and he got sick all over the place. Better now for your two guests.” He studied the two outlaws sitting grimly on their ho
rses, especially the one with dried blood all over his mouth and chin. “You say there were four, you have to shoot one?”

  “Nope. One of his friends did that job for me,” Will answered. “And I appreciate it, because two of ’em was enough to handle without a jail wagon. As usual, I’d like to make arrangements to feed ’em till I can transport ’em to Fort Smith. I’d like to leave the horses here till I can come after ’em, too. Is that all right with you? We can work out your bill for the job when I get back.” Jim nodded, always willing to take on these responsibilities for him because of his generosity. In fact, Jim was already admiring the bay gelding carrying one of the empty saddles. Will continued, “You still usin’ that little eating place, Lottie’s, in town?”

  “Yeah, they’ll be glad to get the business, but you might be too late to feed them tonight.”

  “I was afraid I might be,” Will said. “I reckon I’ll have to cook up something to feed ’em. We didn’t really eat much of anything all day.” He was actually betting on something he could usually count on, and was not surprised when Mary spoke up.

  “You better let me cook something for you,” she volunteered. “We already et supper, but I’ve got some more ham and potatoes I can fry. Won’t take long. Better than what you fix, I bet.” He made a weak show of not wanting to put her to that trouble, counting on her to insist, which she did. And in a short amount of time, Will and his two prisoners were fed under the watchful eye of Will and Jim Little Eagle. When they were finished eating, the two lawmen loaded the prisoners up for the short ride into Atoka.