The Devil's Boneyard Read online

  Properly flustered by now, Reuben apologized. “I’m sorry to bother you, ma’am, but your bartender called you before I had a chance to explain.” He hastily made up his story as he told it. “I just had a message to give Ben Savage from a friend of his. I was gonna tell him Robert Diamond is planning to be in town here next week and he hopes to see him.” Robert Diamond was the first name that popped into his mind. It was an alias he had once used.

  “Well, I can tell Ben that,” Rachel said. “I’m sorry you missed him, and it wasn’t by much, because he just left town this morning. But I’m afraid he won’t be back for three or four days. And with Ben, we’re never sure it’ll be that soon. I hope he’ll be back to see his friend, though. Robert Diamond, I’ll be sure to tell him.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” Reuben said politely while trying to settle with his disappointment in the failure of his planned showdown with Ben Savage. Undecided as to what he should now do, he asked, “What’s that you’re serving for dinner? It looks pretty good.”

  “That’s fresh venison,” Rachel said. “That’s today’s special, something we don’t have very often. Our cook’s husband killed a deer this morning. He’s butchered it for us, and we’re frying up a mess of it while it’s still fresh, and he’s gonna smoke the rest of it. Would you like to try some?”

  He couldn’t think of any reason not to, since his whole mission had failed, so he said, “Yessum, I think I would. Let me go outside and call my partner and I’ll be right back.” He turned and headed for the door, then stopped and came back to leave a coin on the bar for his whiskey before heading for the door again.

  “I thought he was a whiskey drummer or somethin’,” Tiny said, “else I wouldn’ta called you over here.”

  “I declare, Tiny,” Rachel replied. “How many drummers do you see coming in here dressed like that with a big ol’ six-gun strapped on? He coulda been somebody wanting to settle an old score with Ben.” She looked toward the door and wondered aloud, “You ever hear Ben talk about a friend named Robert Diamond?”

  “No, but I expect there’s a heck of a lot we don’t know about Ben’s past,” Tiny said. “And that gray-headed old man didn’t hardly seem like a gunslinger,” he said in his defense.

  Outside the saloon, Reuben walked out into the street and waved to Riley, signaling him to come. Riley promptly came to him at a lope. “He ain’t here,” Reuben said. “He’s outta town for three or four days. Tie the horses up and we’ll have us some dinner here. They’re servin’ deer meat today. Said the cook’s husband had better luck than you did.”

  Relieved to hear the news, Riley dismounted and said, “Now, that surely suits my taste. You sure they said three or four days, right?” It would be hard to pass up fresh venison, but it would be worse to get caught eating it, if Ben Savage walked in.

  CHAPTER 17

  Once again, Ben entered the town of Waco, Texas. On this occasion, he had already decided his first stop should be Bob Graham’s stable, where Walt Murphy kept his horse. Ever since Henry Barnes’s comment on the day of the ill-fated jailbreak, he knew he had to go to Waco. Henry noticed unusual markings on the lower legs of the buckskin the masked outlaw rode by his stable in his escape. He hated to admit it, but that was almost the only reason to take the trip to Waco. If Walt Murphy’s horse had similar markings, it wouldn’t prove anything, but it would be hard to accept it as coincidence in Ben’s mind. If he was lucky, he might get a chance to see Walt’s horse at Graham’s stable. If he was even luckier, he might see the buckskin tied out front of the sheriff’s office.

  When he rode past the sheriff’s office, however, there was only one horse tied out front and it was a flea-bitten gray, so Ben kept riding until he reached Graham’s. “Ranger Ben Savage, if I remember correctly,” Graham greeted him cordially. “Did you ever track down those two men you were lookin’ for?”

  “As a matter of fact, I did,” Ben answered. “I was just passin’ through on my way back home and saw you standin’ out here, so I thought I’d stop and say howdy.”

  “Well, that’s mighty neighborly of you,” Graham started, then paused when a thought struck him. “Too bad you weren’t here a couple of nights ago. You coulda gone with us on a vigilante raid. A bunch of us raided a nest of outlaws on the other side of the river and burned ’em out.” When that caused a raised eyebrow on Ben’s face, Graham went on. “It was all official, ordered by the town council and led by Sheriff Murphy. We went stormin’ over there and cleaned out a hangout for outlaws that’s been there for several years.”

  “The church?” Ben asked.

  “Right, the church,” Graham answered, remembering their earlier conversation. “Then you know we oughta done this a long time ago.”

  That was a big surprise to Ben, knowing the setup Walt Murphy enjoyed in partnership with Reuben Drum. “Was anybody arrested?” He wondered aloud.

  “No, there wasn’t anybody arrested. There wasn’t anybody there but a couple of women and they was killed by stray shots, I reckon, ’cause none of us was shootin’ to hit anybody. And that part of it was a shame. We never meant for somethin’ like that to happen. They just didn’t come outta there when they should have, right in the beginnin’ when the fire was first started.”

  There were a lot of different thoughts running through Ben’s mind after hearing Graham’s account of the raid. One thing for sure, that raid would never have taken place without Walt Murphy’s okay, no matter what the mayor and the council wanted. So Ben had to think that it was most likely Walt’s idea. The next question was, why wasn’t Reuben there? Did Walt warn Reuben of the raid in advance? Or was he not warned and the sheriff was surprised when he wasn’t there? While he thought about that, he steered Cousin over closer to the corral. After a moment, he said, “That’s a fine-lookin’ buckskin. He looks like that one the sheriff rides.” He wanted to say more when he saw the short black sock marking on the front left leg, but he waited for Graham to confirm it.

  “That is Walt’s buckskin,” Graham said.

  There was little doubt left in Ben’s mind now. Walt was in that bunch that attempted to take the money from Sheriff Mack Bragg’s office—at least that buckskin was there. After all the arrests and killings, there were few left to split the money. If Reuben Drum was killed there would be even fewer to divide the cash with. So, where was Reuben? And where was the money? Did Pete Russell bring it to the church? It was too complicated to try to descend on Walt Murphy alone. He had to have a little patience and see if there were more answers to his questions. He said so long to Bob Graham and turned Cousin toward the sheriff’s office.

  When he walked into the sheriff’s office, he was greeted by Wayne Price, who was sitting in the sheriff’s chair behind the desk. “Ben Savage!” Wayne exclaimed. “I didn’t know you were back in town.”

  “Howdy, Wayne,” Ben returned the greeting. “I just rode in a little while ago, and I thought I oughta stop by and see how you and Walt are doin’. Where is the sheriff?”

  “Walt’s where he is most every day about this time, Jake’s Rib House,” Wayne said with a grin.

  “I reckon I shoulda figured that out,” Ben chuckled. “How come you didn’t go with him?”

  Wayne shrugged. “I like them ribs Jake cooks, but I don’t want ’em every day, like Walt does. I reckon I like beef a little better’n pork.”

  “I heard you had a little barbecue at the church the other night,” Ben commented.

  “Yes, sir, we sure did,” Wayne replied, “burnt the place to the ground. Ain’t nothin’ left of that place no more.”

  “I remember Walt tellin’ me that first day I rode into Waco that those drifters out at the church didn’t cause the town any problems. Matter of fact, he said you didn’t bother ’em because it kept ’em from comin’ into town.”

  “That’s what we used to think, all right,” Wayne replied. “But Walt was talkin’ to the mayor and some of the council, and they decided we’d better put them outta business be
fore we started havin’ real trouble. Like that fellow, Pete Russell, that you arrested. Walt figured he might show up at the church after he killed those two deputy marshals and ran off with the money. Come to find out, he didn’t. We figure he went straight on up to Dallas. Like Walt says, we’ll never see that jasper or the money, either, here in Waco.”

  “I expect Walt’s right,” Ben agreed. “I heard there were no arrests durin’ that raid on the church. Was anybody killed?”

  “Well, none of the outlaws. There wasn’t anybody there but two whores, and we found one of them layin’ on the back steps and the other’n layin’ on the kitchen floor. They was shot. We figure it had to be by ricochets or stray shots ’cause nobody shot at either one of ’em. That was the only thing that went wrong that night. I was the one who got close enough to see the body on the floor between the back steps and the kitchen. Walt was worried about another woman that stays there. She’s the cook. Frances Wright’s her name, but she wasn’t there. Don’t know why she wasn’t there. Maybe she was with Reuben and whoever else was supposed to be there.”

  “You say you saw both bodies of the women,” Ben wondered. “The woman you saw lyin’ between the back steps and the kitchen, which way was she lyin’?” When Wayne looked as if he didn’t understand, Ben asked, “When she went down, did it look like she was runnin’ toward the back steps, or runnin’ away from the back steps?”

  Wayne paused to remember the scene as he had seen it. “I reckon she was runnin’ away from the steps, like she was runnin’ back in the church ’cause her head was toward the kitchen.”

  Ben let his mind create a picture of one woman being shot down on the steps and the other one seeing it happen and running for her life. No doubt they could have seen and heard everything that went on at that outlaw camp, but now there was no one to question Walt Murphy’s word but Reuben Drum and anyone who escaped with him. There was no doubt in his mind now that Walt had instigated the raid to quiet Reuben Drum about his partnership with him. Or maybe it was to make one less partner to share the bank’s money, if he gets his hands on it. “What about the cook?” he asked. “She ever show up anywhere?”

  “Not that we know of,” Wayne replied. “Trouble is, nobody knows anything about her, whether she’s got any kin around here or not. All we know is when that buildin’ burned down, there weren’t no trace of her a-tall. So she musta been gone before we got there. We figure she mighta come back the next day, saw what had happened, and took off for home, wherever that is.”

  * * *

  What the hell is he doing back here? Walt Murphy paused when he glanced toward the front door, his fork halfway to his mouth. The image of the big Ranger was one he hoped he’d never be bothered with again. Quickly recovering his wits then, he stuck the fork in his mouth and chewed the pork gristle thoughtfully as he watched Ben approach his table. “Ben Savage,” he greeted him, “what brings you back to our town? Are you on the trail of that feller Pete Russell?”

  “Howdy, Walt,” Ben replied. “No, I ain’t really on that job anymore. But I was just curious enough to take a little ride up this way to check with you in case he mighta had some tie-in with that bunch out at the church.”

  “Yeah, we heard Russell escaped, but we ain’t seen hide nor hair of him here,” Walt said. “Don’t know why he would come here, though. The last time he did, he got himself arrested and hauled back to Buzzard’s Bluff with you.” He made an effort to chuckle, as if amused by the fact that Ben had snatched Pete and Ormond right out from under his nose. “You gonna eat some ribs?” he asked then when Jake looked over at him from behind the counter.

  “Yeah, might as well,” Ben answered and nodded toward Jake. Then told him coffee when Jake asked what he wanted to drink.

  “Wouldn’ta done Pete Russell much good if he had gone to the church,” Walt went on when Ben pulled a chair back and sat down. “The church is burnt to the ground, and if he was there, he ain’t there now. Matter of fact, there ain’t nobody there anymore.”

  “That’s what I just found out,” Ben said. “I stopped by your office and Wayne told me about your vigilante raid over there. But he said there wasn’t anybody in the building when you burned it down except two women, and they didn’t make it outta there.”

  “That’s right,” Walt replied, “and that’s just a damn shame. But I’m sure I don’t have to tell you about the trouble you can have when you’re dealin’ with a bunch of half-drunk citizens on a vigilante raid. It’s a wonder they didn’t shoot some of their own raidin’ party.”

  “I wonder why Reuben Drum wasn’t there,” Ben commented. “It was my understandin’ that he was always there. Hell, he was the one runnin’ the place, wasn’t he?”

  “That’s right. I ain’t got no idea why he wasn’t there, myself. Maybe he decided he was gettin’ to be too much of a nuisance and it was time to move before I arrested him.” They were interrupted briefly when a tired-looking woman set a plate of food down before Ben. “Thank you, Grace,” Walt said, then made a quick introduction. “This is Grace Shaw. She’s Melvin’s wife. Melvin, that’s Jake’s brother.”

  “Ma’am,” Ben said and nodded. She made no response and turned away to return to the kitchen.

  “I’da told her who you are, but it wouldn’ta done no good. She’s deaf as a stump. She can figure out some things you’re sayin’, if she’s lookin’ right at you. Jake told Melvin she’s just playin’ like she’s deaf, so she won’t have to take any orders from him.” He paused to chuckle, then continued. “So, whaddaya aimin’ to do now, since Pete Russell ain’t here in town and he ain’t at the church? Dallas is my guess. Are you gonna ride up there to look for him?”

  “Nope,” Ben answered. “He ain’t my responsibility anymore. I was just curious about the church, since he and Ormond went there once before. I expect I’ll just start back to Buzzard’s Bluff in the mornin’.”

  Walt smiled, pleased to hear it. “Well, sorry you made the trip for nothin’. I wish that jasper hadda come back here with that money. The bank was offerin’ a nice reward for the return of it.”

  “It wasn’t really any trouble to ride up here,” Ben said between bites of grilled ribs. “I wasn’t doin’ much back there at Buzzard’s Bluff. Since our little attempted jailbreak, it’s been quiet as can be. We were just glad we didn’t lose both of those bank robbers while they were in our jail and we killed most of the party tryin’ to break ’em out.” He shook his head and swore. “One of ’em got away, though. He musta had a wide yellow streak down his back, ’cause when the shootin’ got hot and his partners got cut down, he turned rabbit and lit out.” Ben watched Walt carefully to see if he showed any sign of anger. “Henry Barnes owns the stable up at that end of town. He said he ain’t ever seen a man so scared, beatin’ on that poor horse for all he was worth. Henry said he felt sorry for the horse—said it was a fine-lookin’ horse—think he said it was a buckskin.” Walt’s gaze was steady and unblinking. Ben guessed that he was struggling to show no emotion. “You might wanna keep your eyes open for any stranger ridin’ a buckskin,” Ben suggested.

  A smile slowly broke out on Walt’s face and he responded. “Maybe I’d best keep an eye on myself while I’m at it. I ride a buckskin.”

  “You do? You weren’t down in Buzzard’s Bluff a few nights ago, were you?” Ben joked and laughed.

  “Well, if I was, I wouldn’t hardly tell it to a Texas Ranger,” Walt japed in return, no longer nervous. Their discussion was interrupted then when Jake came over to talk.

  “How were the ribs, boys?” Jake sang out. “Walt better like ’em, ’cause if he don’t, I’ll lose half my business.”

  Happy to change the subject, Walt said, “They were just as good as ever, Jake. Reckon you’ve still got my business. How ’bout you, Ben?”

  “As good as any I’ve ever eaten anywhere, maybe better,” Ben allowed.

  “Good, glad to hear it,” Jake said. “I was afraid for a little while last night I wasn’t gonna ha
ve enough. I get my meat from Billy Wells and he was late with my supply. Melvin had to ride over the river early this mornin’ to help him finish killin’ hogs. If he hadn’t, the sheriff’s dinner mighta been pretty late.”

  “What’s the matter with Billy?” Walt asked. “Is he sick or somethin’?”

  “Nah, Billy ain’t sick. Melvin said somethin’ about his wife’s aunt, or somebody, landed on his doorstep by surprise and he had to do some quick work to make a place for her. Said it wouldn’t happen again. I told Melvin he shoulda told Billy it better not, or we’ll start buyin’ hogs from somebody else.”

  Ben was not watching for any reaction by Walt from Jake’s hog supply problem, but he just happened to catch a sudden twitch in the sheriff’s eyebrows and his eyes seemed to freeze wide open. It was only for a few seconds, but Ben was convinced that something Jake had just said had somehow struck a nerve. As if to confirm it, Walt glanced at him, then quickly back at Jake. Only a couple of minutes passed after that before Walt announced that he had to get back to his office, so Wayne could go to dinner. “Hate to run off on you,” he said to Ben, “but I had a pretty good head start before you came in.”

  “No problem a-tall,” Ben said. “We don’t want that young deputy of yours to miss his feed. Matter of fact, you go along, I’ll pay for your dinner. I figure I owe you.”

  “That’s mighty neighborly of you, Ben, ’preciate it.” He got up and walked out the door.

  “Tell Wayne to come down here to eat,” Jake called after him, and Walt just waved his arm in reply without looking around. Jake looked back at Ben and said, “Wayne just comes in once in a while. I wish he liked ribs as much as Walt does. I could use the business.”

  “I expect I’ll finish this cup of coffee, and I’ll get goin’, myself,” Ben said to Jake. “It was mighty fine eatin’, and that’s a fact.” Something had lit afire under Walt having to do with Jake’s story about someone named Billy Wells, and Ben was interested in finding out a little more about him. “I’m glad you got your meat this mornin’,” he commented as he paid for Walt and himself. “I’da been disappointed to miss one of your dinners.”