Die with the Outlaws Read online

  “Yes, sir, that is the name he gave me,” Matt said. “Come have a beer with me, Sheriff.”

  “Who killed Shardeen? Did you do it, Jensen?”

  “I did.”

  Sheriff Clark stood there for a moment longer, looking down at the body. “I don’t need to ask why you killed him. The gun in his hand is all the evidence I need, though I suppose most of you saw it.”

  “We all seen it, Sheriff,” one of the patrons said. “’N I tell you the truth. It was the damndest thing any of us has ever saw.”

  “Clyde’s tellin’ you the truth, Sheriff. Shardeen there drawed on Jensen, ’n then, from nowhere it seems like, Jensen just kind of flung this knife . . . ’n, well, you can see what happened.”

  “Is that right, Cheatum?”

  “It’s just like Clyde and Frank is tellin’, Sheriff,” Cheatum replied.

  Half a dozen others backed the bartender up.

  Sheriff Clark shook his head slowly as he stood there staring at the body. “Angus Shardeen. I never thought anyone could beat him in a fair draw.”

  “Hell, there warn’t nothin’ fair about it,” Cheatum said. “Shardeen drawed on Jensen first, ’n not only that, he done it while Jensen was still a-holdin’ onto his beer mug.”

  “Sheriff, the invitation to have a beer with me is still open,” Matt said.

  “Yeah,” Sheriff Clark said as he stepped up to the bar. “Lonnie, give me a beer. I’m going to have a drink with my deputy.”

  Circle Dot Ranch

  Bob Guthrie dipped a scoop of water from Jim Andrews’s water bucket, took a drink, then continued with the reason for his visit. “How many head of cattle do you have?”

  “Five hundred and three head,” Jim replied.

  “I’m runnin’ just over three hunnert head, ’n Frank has another two hunnert ’n fifty. Poindexter has near a thousand. I was thinkin’ we could maybe make us a gather ’n run ’em all down to Bitter Creek. It’d be easier runnin’ ’em together now, than it would for us each to try ’n do it by our ownself.”

  “You may be right,” Jim replied.

  “He’s dead! He’s dead! Jensen kilt ’im! He’s dead!”

  At first the words shouted by Frank Edmonston from the back of a galloping horse were too indistinct to be heard. But he repeated it as he dismounted in front of the two men.

  “Have you heard? Shardeen is dead. Matt Jensen kilt ’im.”

  “I’ll be damned,” Jim said. “Shardeen’s dead, is he? Well, I don’t think anyone will be mourning over that no-account little varmint.”

  “Was it a shoot-out?” Ernest Dean asked. “I sure woulda liked to seen that.”

  “Well, it warn’t exactly a shoot-out,” Edmonston said as he explained the details.

  “I don’t care if Shardeen got hit in the head with a shovel full of it,” Jim said. “We’re all a lot better off with him dead.”

  Straight Arrow Ranch

  Sean O’Neil pulled the cork on a bottle of Glenlivet Scotch and poured a glass for Garrett Kennedy and himself. “According to everything we’ve been told, Shardeen was supposed to be the most deadly of all of DuPont’s men. And yet this Jensen person made rather quick work of him.”

  “Yes, but apparently he tricked him,” Kennedy replied. “He had a knife hidden, and he used it when Shardeen was expecting him to draw his gun.”

  “The result is the same,” O’Neil said. “Shardeen is dead, and Jensen is alive.”

  “If this man Jensen was able to get the better of a killer like Shardeen, he may become quite a thorn in our side,” Kennedy said.

  “I think we are in no danger from him at the moment,” O’Neil replied. “I’m sure he is more concerned with the Regulators than he is with us.”

  “But we use the Regulators.”

  “Yes, we use the Regulators, but we don’t identify ourselves with them, and I think it is better if we keep as much separation between us and DuPont as we can. And as far as Shardeen is concerned, he did exactly what he was supposed to do.”

  “What do you mean, he did just what he was supposed to do? He tried to kill Jensen, but wound up getting killed himself.”

  O’Neil smiled. “That is exactly my point. One of the reasons we accepted the offer of DuPont and the men of the Regulators to become our allies was so that that any actual confrontation that resulted in someone dying, the someone who died would be a Regulator instead of us. Shardeen is dead. We’re not.” He lifted his glass of scotch. “To Angus Shardeen.”

  Kennedy laughed out loud and lifted his own glass. “To Shardeen.”

  “You know, Garrett, it might not be a bad idea for us to find a replacement for Shardeen,” O’Neil said.

  “Oh, I’m sure DuPont will find one.”

  O’Neil shook his head. “No, I don’t want DuPont to find one. I mean we should find Shardeen’s replacement—not for DuPont, for us. I want someone who is as skilled with a gun, or perhaps even more so, and I want him answerable only to us. When the time comes for us to separate our interests from the Regulators, it will be easier to do so if we have such a man in our employ.”

  “Yes,” Kennedy said. “Yes, I see what you mean. Do you have anyone in mind?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do. The last time I was in Cheyenne I heard of someone called the Undertaker. He might just be our man.”

  “Wait, are you saying you want to hire an undertaker?” Kennedy asked.

  O’Neil chuckled. “Not an undertaker, the Undertaker. His real name is Merlin Boggs, but he is a gunman and so proficient at his profession that many of his opponents wind up needing an undertaker, so people have taken to calling Boggs the Undertaker.”

  “Do you think we can get him to join us?” Kennedy asked.

  “Yes, everyone has his price. But I’ll have to go to Cheyenne to find him and find out just what his price might be.”

  “All right. You go see what you can do about getting him to come work for us. I’ll take care of things here while you’re gone.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Papa, you’re going to Cheyenne?” Colleen asked.

  “Yes.”

  She smiled. “Please take me with you. It would be nice to get away for a few days.”

  O’Neil was packing his grip. “It’s going to be business and you would just be in the way.”

  “I’m a grown woman, Papa. I won’t be at your heels all the time. Please take me with you.”

  “No.”

  The disappointment showed on Colleen’s face as she turned away from her father. Then she thought of Cooter. Without her father there to show his disapproval, she and Cooter could go riding together.

  * * *

  Two days after his confrontation with Shardeen, Matt returned to the Spur and Latigo Ranch. He was just dismounting when Lisa stepped out onto the porch to greet him.

  “Hello, Matt, you’re just in time for lunch,” she invited.

  “Is Hugh here?”

  “No, he and the others are out on the South Range.”

  “Oh, uh, then I’d better not come in.”

  “Are you afraid of me, Matt?”

  “What? No, I—Why would you ask that?”

  Lisa laughed, and with a toss of her head and a brush of her hand, moved a fall of hair back from her face. “I’m teasing you. I have lunch ready to take out to the South Range for Hugh and the others. I thought you might like to come along and join us.”

  It was Matt’s time to smile. “Well, if you put it that way, yes, I would like to ride out to the range with you.”

  “You could help if you would like, by hitching up the buckboard and bringing it around. By then I’ll have my bread out of the oven.”

  Matt took the saddle off Spirit then turned him out into the corral. By the time he brought the buckboard back up to the main house, Lisa had stepped onto the porch, carrying two large baskets.

  “Well, that was good timing,” she said as she passed the baskets down to Matt, who put them in the back of
the buckboard.

  It was just under a mile from the house to where the men were working, and though there were no roads, the ground was flat and without obstructions so the buckboard rolled easily, making the trip in under ten minutes.

  Matt was very aware of Lisa’s close proximity to him. What is wrong with me? Why am I reacting like this around Lisa? She’s married, for crying out loud!

  “How long have you known my sister?” she asked.

  It was an innocent question, but her voice was low, and though Matt wasn’t familiar with the term sensual, he was certainly aware of the results that were generated by a sensual voice. Was she purposely using that tone of voice?

  No, if Matt was honest with himself, he would say that this was no different from the way she always spoke. It was just that intimacy of their sharing the seat of the buckboard that made him much more aware. And he couldn’t help but recall the other day when, just before he left, she had said, “You feel it too, don’t you, Matt?”

  He had not answered her question that day, but he was aware that his silence in response to her current question was getting uncomfortably long.

  “Well, I met your sister very soon after I met Duff, and he and I have been friends for quite a while.”

  “How did you meet Duff?”

  “I met Duff through Smoke.”

  “Smoke?”

  “His real name is Kirby Jensen, but everyone calls him Smoke.”

  “Ahh, his name is Jensen. So you are related then.”

  “Not really. Smoke is a friend. My best friend, actually. He took me in when I was a young orphan, and he taught me everything I know. When I went out on my own, I took the name Jensen as my own name. I did it as a way of honoring him.”

  “Oh, what a wonderful thing for you to do,” Lisa said, putting her hand on his arm.

  The tips of her fingers burned him through his shirtsleeve.

  “There they are,” he said, glad to be able at that moment to point out Hugh and the others.

  Ed Sanders was the first one to see them coming, and even as they were driving up, they heard him call out, “Grub on the way!”

  He, Hugh, Haverkost, and Patterson walked toward them.

  “Look who showed up,” Lisa said as she hopped down from the buckboard. “He was just in time for lunch, so I invited him to join us.”

  “Ha. If you ask me, he was just looking for a free meal,” Haverkost teased.

  As the men exchanged jocular comments, Lisa took a bedsheet from the back of the buckboard, unfolded it, and spread it out on the ground. A moment later, she had fried chicken, sliced bread, German potato salad, and a chocolate cake laid out for everyone.

  “Have you heard anything from any of the Regulators about what happened between you and Shardeen?” Hugh asked as he took a piece of chicken. Because he was the boss, the others had waited patiently for him to get the first pick.

  “No, nothing since the incident,” Matt said.

  “Well, I’ll tell you what I’ve heard. I was in the mercantile yesterday ’n ever’one was talkin’ about it.” Sanders chuckled. “’N ever’one of’ em, to a man, was a-sayin’ that Shardeen gettin’ hisself kilt is ’bout the best thing to happen around here in a long time. ’Bout the only one upset about it is DuPont.”

  “Hugh, have you ever met Tyrone DuPont?” Matt asked.

  “Yes, I’ve met him.” Hugh tore off a piece of bread “I met him long before either one of us moved here.”

  “Really?” Matt said, surprised to hear that. “You mean you knew him from somewhere else?”

  “I didn’t say I knew him. I said I met him. It was three years ago on board the Mississippi riverboat Delta Mist. I had been hired to play the piano from St. Louis to New Orleans. Tyrone DuPont was a passenger on the boat, but he wasn’t just a passenger. He was a gambler, making his living by fleecing the other passengers. He called it a game of chance, but there was very little chance involved. As it turned out, he was a notorious cheat and had already been banned from just about every boat on the river. I don’t know how he came to be aboard the Delta Mist.

  “At the time, though, we didn’t know anything about him, and I say we because one of the people who played cards with him was Jason Stone, my manager. Jason got caught up in the game, and he wound up losing every cent we had been paid on the contract for me to play the piano.” Hugh was quiet for a moment as if gathering his thoughts.

  “Jason came to my stateroom to apologize,” Hugh continued, “and he swore that he had been cheated. I believed him but I also—” Hugh stopped in the middle of his sentence and was quiet for a long moment. “I, uh, chastised him for it and pretty severely, too. After all, his intemperate actions had left us totally without funds.

  “Oh, he was overcome with guilt, of course, and he apologized again, and I met this apology with absolute silence. When he saw that I couldn’t be placated by anything he said, he quit trying, then he went to his own room.”

  Again, there was a long period of silence before Hugh resumed his story.

  “The purser found him the next morning with a pistol in his hand and a bullet hole in his head. He had committed suicide in remorse, a remorse that his best friend had only intensified.”

  “Oh, Hugh,” Lisa said, her face reflecting compassion for what he was sharing with them. She laid her hand on his arm. “Oh, Hugh, I’m so sorry. You’ve never told me that story.”

  “This is the first time I’ve ever told anyone the story. I’ve never had the courage to speak of it before. If I had been more sympathetic, if I had accepted his apology, I am convinced that he wouldn’t have killed himself. He felt guilty for betraying my trust and yet, by far, the biggest betrayal was of my doing.”

  There was another long period of absolute silence as they all looked at Hugh, aware of the pain he was reliving in the telling of the story.

  “Matt, the other day you asked me why I left the concert tour,” Hugh said. “From the day I left that boat, I have never played professionally again.”

  “Hugh, I know that had to be hard on you. But it wasn’t your fault,” Matt replied.

  “Yes, I know that Jason was responsible for his own fate, both the gambling and committing suicide. But I can’t put the feeling of guilt aside.”

  Lisa lifted Hugh’s hand and kissed it. “I’m so sorry.”

  There was a long moment before anyone spoke again.

  It was Patterson who broke the extended silence with a question. “Do you think DuPont will get someone to replace Shardeen?”

  “It looks to me like he’s going to have to,” Sanders said.

  “I’m not all that sure that he will,” Matt said.

  “Why not?”

  “A big part of DuPont’s plan is to make everyone think that he and the Regulators are upholding the law. Shardeen was the total opposite of that. He was known far and wide as someone who sold his gun. That was the total opposite of how DuPont is trying to portray himself.”

  “But ain’t you sold your gun to us?” Haverkost asked.

  “Jake!” Patterson remanded him sharply.

  “Well I don’t mean nothin’ bad by it, Leroy. I was just asking is all. I don’t mean no offense, Mr. Jensen,” Haverkost said quickly.

  “No offense taken, Jake. Yes, I suppose some may call me a gunfighter, and I have often put my gun to use. But in every case, I have made certain that I chose the right side. You’ve been here for a while. You know what’s going on around here. If you had to choose which side is in the right, and which side is in the wrong, which side would you choose?”

  Jake smiled before he answered. “There ain’t no need for me havin’ to make a choice like that. I’ve done made that choice, ’n you have, too. ’N we both chose the right side.”

  Sanders laughed. “Haverkost, when I was in the army I seen privates try ’n get themselves out of situations that they let their big mouths got ’em into, but damn me if you didn’t get yourself out of this ’n just about as slick as any p
rivate I’ve ever seen.”

  “What do you think is the most likely reaction DuPont will have over the loss of his gunfighter?” Hugh asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Matt replied. “But if I had to guess, I would say that he is going to try and do something to prove that he is still in control, even if he doesn’t have Shardeen around anymore.

  * * *

  “This is the prettiest part of the whole ranch,” Colleen said as she spread out the picnic lunch on a precipice that overlooked the twisting river.

  “Nah, it isn’t the prettiest,” Cooter said.

  “Really? Well, I would like to know what part of the ranch is prettier.”

  A broad smile preceded Cooter’s reply. “That’s easy. Anyplace you are is the prettiest place on the ranch.”

  Colleen’s laughter reminded Cooter of tinkling wind chimes. “Now, Cooter Gregory, just what do you expect to get from such flattery?”

  “A piece of that apple pie you brought?” Cooter said.

  “Oh? Well, I must say that I’m disappointed.”

  “Why are you disappointed?”

  “I thought maybe you might want a kiss.”

  “Oh, Miss O’Neil . . .”

  “Cooter, if you are going to kiss me, don’t you think it’s about time you started calling me Colleen?”

  “Colleen,” Cooter said, though the word was smothered by the kiss.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Morning Star Saloon, Cheyenne, Wyoming

  “Boggs!” The name exploded in a loud shout, and with enough provocation to get the attention of everyone in the saloon. The piano player turned away from his keys, and not only did the music stop, but so too did all conversation. The bartender who had just taken down a bottle to pour a drink stood still.

  Boggs, who was the target of the shout, was standing at the bar, and he made no reaction to the challenge.

  “I’m what you might call a bounty hunter, Boggs, ’n there’s paper out on you. A thousand dollars it is, for anyone that brings in the feller they call the Undertaker. That’s you, ain’t it Boggs? You’re the Undertaker, ’n I aim to collect on it. Take out your gun real slow ’n let it drop to the floor, ’n I’ll let you live. Try anythin’, ’n I’ll kill you right there where you stand.”