Dig Your Own Grave Read online

  “I’m just worried about you,” she said. She couldn’t help making the snide remark.

  When Eddie brought the horses up to the porch, he helped Ansel pack the supplies in sacks on the packhorse. When they were finished, Ansel asked him a question. “I know there’s a back way outta here, ain’t there?” He was thinking about the chance of meeting Will Tanner on his way up.

  “Yes, sir,” Eddie replied. “There’s a way out, but you can’t ride a horse that way. You have to climb up over a rock ledge where the water comes out of the ground before you come over the back of the hill and down through the trees to that game trail.”

  Ansel was not happy to hear that, but he decided he would have to take the boy’s word for it. He didn’t like the idea of losing a lot of time to find out that Eddie was right. That thought triggered a need to hurry now and not waste any more time than he already had. The sun was starting to find its way through the tree branches overhead. “Helluva thing,” he muttered, “some hideout with no back door.” He climbed up into the saddle and sneered at the two women standing on the porch. “I hope they burn this place to the ground,” he said in parting, wheeled the gray horse, and started down the creek to the river.

  Elmira and Darlene stood watching until he passed out of sight. “Well, if that ain’t good riddance, I don’t know what is,” Elmira commented.

  “That ol’ son of a bitch,” Eddie complained. “I laid awake out here on this porch all night and he wouldn’t pay me the money he promised me.”

  “Don’t fret over that, son,” Elmira said. “While he was peein’ on the corner of the house, I went in his saddlebags and got your twenty-five dollars for you. He had so much money in there, he’ll never miss it. I got a little extra for what he owes me, while I was at it.” Darlene released a howl of laughter and they all joined in. “Come on, let’s go inside and cook some breakfast,” Elmira said.

  * * *

  Will woke up to the sounds of Buster’s snuffling as the buckskin nibbled the grass close to his blanket. Thinking he had slept too late, he bolted upright, only then remembering the wound in his shoulder when he felt a stab of pain shoot through it. Cursing himself again for being careless enough to have let Curry get off the shot, he felt his arm and shoulder for stiffness. To test for mobility, he swung his arm up and down, and while it was uncomfortable, he decided it wouldn’t hinder his movements to a great extent. Already having made up his mind that he was going to finish the job he started, he decided he was going into Grassy Creek to get Ansel Beaudry. Riding straight up the creek to the cabin was akin to committing suicide, so he was going to have to go in the back way, and that meant going in on foot. It might not be easy, especially with a tender shoulder—might not be possible at all—but that was what he was going to try. With that settled, he got his horses ready and left the stream where he had spent the night.

  Back on the river trail, he followed it to the point where the game trail up from the Washita crossed it. Instead of taking the game trail down to that river, he went the opposite way, as he had on the first day, when he scouted Grassy Creek from above the hideout. His memory was sharp enough to remember the way he had gone to the cabin, even though it took him through a sizable forest of trees on the hillside. Once he reached the rock ledge, he had to leave the horses and proceed on foot. It was time to determine if he had been mistaken in thinking he could climb down the ledge to the back of the cabin. He decided he could, so he checked his rifle to make sure the magazine was fully loaded, then checked his Colt handgun as well. He took a glance up at the sky to judge the time, instead of checking the watch he carried in his pocket, and figured it was getting along to late morning. Then with a little grunt for the pain in his shoulder, he lowered himself over the ledge, hung by his arms for a few seconds, then dropped about three feet to a narrow path below. Before going any farther, he paused there to look and listen, even though he figured it impossible that anyone in the camp below could see him. He stayed where he was for a little longer while he looked for signs of activity around the cluster of outbuildings below. When he was satisfied that there was no one in the barn or the outhouse, he moved down through the trees and bushes to the back of the cabin, where the bedrooms were located. He knew how many people he had to account for because Moon had told him there was no one there except Elmira, her son, Darlene, and now Beaudry.

  When there was no sound from inside the bedrooms, he decided everyone was probably in the front somewhere, probably in a kitchen or dining room, wherever everyone met. If he was lucky, he might catch Beaudry sitting at the table eating or drinking, so he moved cautiously around the side of the cabin until he could peek around the corner at the front porch. There was no one there. He stepped up on the porch and moved quietly to the door to listen. He could hear conversation coming from inside, but all of it from women’s voices. He looked around him again to make sure Elmira’s son wasn’t in the yard somewhere before slowly opening the door to a small parlor. With the door only partially open, he could see through the parlor to a large room beyond, where the two women and the boy were sitting at a long table, drinking coffee.

  For a moment, he froze until he realized they were not aware of his presence, then when it was obvious they were engrossed in what almost appeared to be a party mood, he walked into the parlor, his rifle ready for Beaudry’s sudden appearance. There was no sign of the man. Maybe Will was wrong, maybe Beaudry had not returned to Grassy Creek. In the next moment, the talking stopped as the three at the table discovered the silent figure standing in the doorway. Darlene couldn’t suppress a squeal at the sight of the Winchester looking at them. Elmira blurted, “Mr. Walker!”

  It was Eddie who declared, “He ain’t here, Mr. Walker, I mean Mr. Tanner. He’s gone!”

  “That’s right, Deputy,” Elmira said. “You’re lookin’ for Ansel Beaudry and he ain’t here. He took off this mornin’ and we’re damn glad he did. I wish to hell you coulda caught him.”

  Will could have doubted her word, but both she and Eddie had not a hint of deceit in their statements, coming unprepared as they did. He eased the hammer back and lowered the Winchester. “Where did he go?”

  “He didn’t say,” Elmira answered, “and we didn’t care, just as long as he went.”

  “When?” Will asked.

  “About two hours ago.”

  He had missed him. Beaudry had a two-hour start, plus the time it would take Will to climb back up over that ledge where his horses were tied. He had been so certain that Beaudry would be set up in ambush at the top of the creek, never thinking he would leave the protection of the hideout. Now he knew that he could have simply waited for him to come down the creek in an attempt to get away. “Well, I can’t seem to keep from losin’ that man,” he muttered to himself.

  “I reckon we oughta be thankin’ you for cleanin’ out that bunch of snakes,” Elmira said, “after what they done to us and all.” She paused, waiting to find out how much trouble she was in, since he knew the primary purpose of the cabin built there. Finally she asked, “What are you gonna do about us? I mean, are you fixin’ to bring a bunch of lawmen in here to burn my house down and run me outta Oklahoma?”

  Lost in his thoughts of what he had to do now that Beaudry was on the run, he had not given her situation any concern at all. “What?” he suddenly blurted when he heard her question. “Oh . . .” He paused. “No, Elmira, I’ve got no interest in runnin’ you out. I’ve got nothin’ against you. I’m interested in one thing only, and that’s catchin’ Ansel Beaudry.” He gave her a faint grin. “Besides, you’re a customer of Oscar Moon’s, and Moon’s the reason I found Grassy Creek. I tracked him to your place, but I won’t be bringin’ a posse up here to bother you, and I’ve got no warrants for Moon.”

  “Moon’s dead,” Elmira stated solemnly. “Ansel Beaudry shot him down right out yonder by my front steps.”

  “For no reason at all,” Darlene said. “He’s crazy in the head. He just took a notion that Moon mighta told
the law where he was hidin’.” She shook her head at the memory of the shooting. “Just pulled his pistol out and shot him in the chest. Poor Moon didn’t have a chance to protect himself.”

  Will was stunned, hardly able to believe what he had just heard. Moon was the kind of man you expected to always be there. Moon was a friend of his. More than that, Oscar Moon had saved his life one night in a saloon in Kansas, and for that, he felt always indebted to him. Ansel Beaudry was a marked man from that moment on. No matter how long and how much it took, Will swore a silent oath to his dead friend that he would be avenged—no matter how far Beaudry ran.

  It puzzled those watching him that Moon’s death appeared to have struck him hard, for it was obvious that the deputy was taken aback. Eddie spoke up then. “We dug him a nice grave on the other side of the barn. Mama and Darlene helped dig it.”

  All thoughts that Will Tanner was a lawman were forgotten then. Elmira stepped forward and took a look at Will’s bloodstained sleeve. “Looks like you got shot,” she said. “Take your shirt off and let me see if I can take care of it.” When he started to balk, she insisted. “I’ve took care of a lotta gunshots in my time, so take your shirt off. You’ve got some fresh bleedin’ goin’ on.” He glanced at his shoulder to see she was right. He had evidently started it again when he dropped over that rock ledge. “Set yourself down at the table,” she ordered. “If you’re goin’ after him, you can’t have that bullet festerin’ in your shoulder.” He hesitated for only a couple of seconds before obeying her. When he did, it served to unite the four of them in a common cause, to bring Ansel Beaudry to justice.

  “I’ll get you a cup of coffee,” Darlene said to him when Elmira went to the kitchen to heat some water to clean his wound. “I’ll bring you a biscuit to go with it.”

  Had it not been for the sorrowful news of Oscar Moon’s death, Will might have found the situation amusing. Although never having committed an actual crime, Elmira Tate had always aligned herself and her business with the folks who broke the law. After cleaning the wound, she managed to get the bullet out and bandaged the wound. He knew that every minute he sat there was another minute behind Beaudry, but he thought she was right in saying the wound might give him trouble if it wasn’t tended. When she had finished, he thanked her and started out the door, followed by their wishes of good luck in running the murderer to ground. When Eddie offered to get his horses for him, they were surprised to learn that he had walked in from above the creek. “Don’t go openin’ that wound up when you climb over that ledge,” Elmira scolded.

  “I won’t,” Will responded, and started up the back path at a trot.

  The three residents of Grassy Creek watched him until he disappeared into the trees near the base of the ledge. “Ain’t that a helluva note?” Darlene muttered. “Looks like we crossed over to the other side of the law.”

  “Not hardly,” Elmira said.

  * * *

  As he climbed back up to his horses, Will’s brain was working hard to make the best guess as to where Beaudry would run. Finally, he had to assume that he would probably head to Brinker’s first, likely on his way to Kansas. The trading post was in cahoots with the Grassy Creek hideout, and he might be in need of supplies. It was strictly a guess, but if it was the correct one, he would cut into Beaudry’s lead a little, since his horses were in the trees above the river trail that led to Brinker’s. There were other things on his mind as he rode toward the trading post. When would the posse from Wichita arrive at Camp Supply? He couldn’t contact them if he was trying to trail Beaudry. As things stood now, there were only the three prisoners at Camp Supply to escort back for trial. He needed to let his boss, Dan Stone, know what was going on and that he was going to go after Beaudry no matter where he ran. Then another thought entered his mind. Sophie must think I’m dead.

  The farther he rode, the more concerned he became because he could not see any tracks on the trail that he could say for sure were as recent as that morning, and there should have been. The most recent were some unshod hoofprints. These he could tell for sure, but they were mixed in with tracks left by shod horses, coming and going, over the last few days. Still, he continued on, thinking Brinker’s to be the most likely place to start looking for Beaudry.

  When he saw the trees that lined the Canadian River, he reined Buster back to a slow walk while he peered ahead to catch first sight of the buildings that were Brinker’s. When still at a distance, he stopped and scanned the barnyard and outbuildings carefully. There were no horses tied at the rail in front of the store, but he was looking for something else, too, and in a few minutes, he saw it. He nudged Buster and started again, guiding the horse toward the barn when Brinker’s young son, Thomas, walked out. Will figured he was more likely to get truthful answers to his questions from the nine-year-old than he would from his parents.

  Thomas looked up when he heard Buster approaching. “Howdy, Thomas,” Will greeted him. “I see you’re still busy, helpin’ your pa take care of the place.” Thomas didn’t say anything, but continued to stare at him. Will decided that the boy’s expression was one of curiosity and not an unfriendly one. That by itself was enough to tell Will what he needed to know, but he decided to ask the question, anyway. “I’m tryin’ to catch up with a fellow named Beaudry, who shoulda come by here this mornin’. Did you see him?”

  Thomas shook his head. “Ain’t been nobody stopped at the store this mornin’,” he said, confirming Will’s guess. It was disappointing news to hear, and he never doubted the truthfulness of the boy’s answer.

  Maybe there was the possibility that Beaudry passed by, but didn’t stop at the store, so he asked. “He mighta just passed on by without stoppin’. Did you see him pass by?” Again, Thomas shook his head with the same puzzled look on his face. “Much obliged, Thomas,” Will said, and turned Buster’s head back toward the trail. There was no need to question Tyler Brinker—Will already knew what he needed to know. He had guessed totally wrong in his efforts to catch up with Ansel Beaudry, and now he was faced with some difficult decisions. It was important that the Wichita posse know the status of the Beaudry gang, how many were dead, and that there was one, Beaudry himself, still on the loose. To carry that information to Camp Supply would take a day and a half’s ride, in effect, giving Beaudry more than a three-day head start. And that was if Will had a trail to follow, which he didn’t. It was not a good position he found himself in, and he could see only two options: report to Camp Supply that Beaudry had gotten away or go back to Grassy Creek and try to pick up a trail. Thinking of Oscar Moon then, he said, “Well, I reckon I know which one it’s gonna be.” He turned Buster’s head back toward Grassy Creek.

  * * *

  While his horses grazed in the small patches of grass between the cottonwoods beside the Washita River, Will scouted the riverbank on each side of the mouth of Grassy Creek. His job was made difficult by the fact that the creek bed was thick with grass that was covered with about eight inches of water, which made for no tracks coming down the creek. There should have been some tracks, either upstream or down when Beaudry rode out on the bank of the river. After searching carefully, with no success, for some evidence that would show in which direction Beaudry had fled, Will was about to believe the outlaw had taken wings and flown off the hill. It occurred to him then that maybe Beaudry rode straight across the river when he came down from the cabin that morning, so as to not leave tracks on the riverbank. So he climbed on Buster and drove his horses across to the opposite side, and there on the other bank, he found the tracks he was looking for.

  Beaudry had come out of the river on the opposite bank, then followed the river east. Will could plainly see the fresh tracks left by two horses on the narrow trail and he had to wonder if Beaudry had a definite destination in mind, or if he was just running. According to what he had learned about the gang, none of them except Tom Daly really knew the territory they had fled to. As long as Beaudry left tracks to follow, Will figured it was just a question
of how long before he could overtake him. If he continued to follow the Washita, he was going to end up in the Cheyenne-Arapaho reservation and Will figured that was not where Beaudry wanted to go. Still, the tracks of the two horses were easy to follow until he came to a sharp bend in the river and saw definite signs that Beaudry had stopped there to rest his horses. “I reckon you could use a little rest right now, too,” he said to Buster, and turned the buckskin down toward the water’s edge and a grassy bank. Seeing the remains of a recent fire, he stirred the ashes solely by habit to guess how old they were. Cold, he thought, not really expecting otherwise, since Beaudry’s lead was more than a day at this point. He had wasted a day when he went to Brinker’s first, but he had felt sure Beaudry would be heading in that direction, even if he didn’t stop at the trading post. It was his impression that Ansel’s natural territory was Kansas and Missouri. If he continued in the direction he had started in, he’d end up in Osage territory, or farther on into the Five Nations. That ain’t all bad, Will thought, because if he kept going, he’d end up in Fort Smith, and that’s where I’m planning to take him, anyway. “Maybe he’ll turn himself in,” he japed to Buster as he gathered some small limbs to build a fire.

  When his horses were rested, he set out again, following the river trail, but had only ridden about five miles before reaching a heavily traveled Indian trail running north and south. Again, to his surprise, Beaudry fooled him, turning south instead of north, which would have led him toward Kansas. He’s going to Texas, he thought. He had not traveled far when he felt a definite familiar feeling for the trail and it suddenly struck him why. It had been a good while now, but he remembered it well. This road he followed was tracing the route of the Western Cattle Trail. The last time he had ridden this trail, he was helping to drive a herd of cattle to Dodge City. For the first time since picking up the trail back at Grassy Creek, he wondered if he might be following a trail somebody other than Beaudry had left, but that didn’t make any sense. He continued on for another couple of miles when he saw a man on a horse coming toward him, leading a milk cow.