The Devil's Boneyard Read online

  “I warned you,” Ben said as he dropped the buckskin’s reins to the ground, then quickly reached up and pulled Walt’s left hand away from his shoulder and handcuffed his hands behind his back.

  Only then recovering from the sudden shock of having been shot, Walt bellowed, “Free my hands! You damn maniac, I’ll bleed to death if you don’t do somethin’ to stop this bleedin’.”

  “I expect you’re right,” Ben replied, “so we’d best quit wastin’ time and get you back to town where we can get you some help.” He picked up the sheriff’s handgun and stuck it in his saddlebag.

  “Are you crazy?” Walt roared. “You can’t take me back to town like this. I’m the sheriff!”

  “You ain’t no more,” Ben said, realizing Walt was having trouble believing he could be arrested. “That’s the only place I can take you where you can get a doctor to fix you up. The only other place woulda been the church, but you burnt that to the ground and killed everybody there. Remember?” He took up the reins to Walt’s horse and climbed back into the saddle. “Just relax and enjoy the ride back to town,” he advised as he led the buckskin out to the road and turned toward town.

  * * *

  Finding it hard to believe what he had just witnessed, Billy Wells backed slowly out of the patch of bushes he had hidden behind. His rifle in hand, he made his way back through the trees to the house, where his wife and her aunt waited to hear the cause of the shot they had heard. Fully expecting Billy to report that Ben had been shot as he rode back to the road, they were astonished by his report. “It was the sheriff and Savage, all right,” he blurted excitedly. “Ben Savage shot Walt and arrested him, and he’s takin’ him back to town—to jail, I reckon.”

  “Are you sure?” Frances responded.

  “I’m sure, all right. I heard the whole thing,” Billy assured her. “It looked like Walt was shot in the shoulder. He was still on his horse, though.”

  “Walt Murphy arrested,” Frances marveled. “I can’t hardly believe it.” To Reuben Drum and all the occupants at the old church hideout, Walt was the ultimate authority and would never be challenged.

  “Maybe this will bring a new day to Waco,” Betty speculated hopefully.

  CHAPTER 19

  News of the arrest swept rapidly along the main street of town, leaving an astonished collection of shopkeepers and customers in its wake, as Sheriff Walt Murphy was led slowly up the middle of the street. His hands in irons behind his back and one sleeve of his shirt soaked with blood, he sat stiffly in the saddle, looking neither right nor left. Not certain how fanatic the sheriff’s supporters might be, the formidable Ranger leading him rode with his rifle in one hand, the butt resting on his thigh, with the barrel pointing straight up. When they came to the sheriff’s office, the Ranger and his prisoner stopped and tied up at the hitching rail. But the wave of amazing news continued on past to the end of the street.

  Deputy Sheriff Wayne Price was at Bob Graham’s stable when the news reached that far. Stunned, he was not sure he could believe the rumor, so he hurried back to the jail as quickly as he could. Charging in the door, he found, to his amazement, Sheriff Walt Murphy standing in front of one of the cells, stripped of his gun belt, his hands cuffed behind him, his shirt bloodied, and Ben Savage holding a ring of keys in one hand, a six-gun in the other. “Walt?” Wayne exclaimed “What . . . ?” That was as far as he got before Ben interrupted him.

  “Deputy, glad you’re back,” he said and tossed the keys to the startled young man. “Here, see if you can find a key to this cell. We’ll get him inside and send for the doctor to come take a look at that wound. Who do you fetch to doctor your prisoners?”

  Wayne stood speechless for a few moments, staring at Walt. When Ben started to repeat the question, he blurted, “Doctor Griffin, that’s who we usually send for.”

  “Well, send somebody for him,” Ben said. “Walt’s gonna need to have him take a look at that shoulder.”

  Finally recovering from his shock upon first seeing his boss in this condition, Wayne responded. “I’ll send for him, but do you mind tellin’ me what’s goin’ on?”

  “Right,” Ben replied. “Sorry, I shoulda told you that to begin with. He’s under arrest for the murder of Dora Somebody and Paulene Somebody on the night you fellows set fire to the church.”

  “But those deaths were accidental,” Wayne protested.

  “That’s right,” Walt interrupted. “Tell this fool. You was there. You saw how everybody was shootin’. Ain’t no tellin’ whose shots hit those women.”

  “Did you see those women get shot?” Ben asked, ignoring Walt’s outburst, and Wayne said that he, himself, didn’t actually see the women get hit. He said there was a lot of shooting going on just for effect, and a lot of it may have been a little careless. Ben continued, “Well, I’ve got a witness who did see them get shot, both of ’em by your sheriff, here. Ain’t that right, Walt? Shot one of ’em down when she walked out on the back steps and the other one in the back when she tried to run back inside. My witness was still in the church when that happened, and she saw it all.” He paused a moment to let Wayne digest that, before going on.

  “Nobody’s gonna believe that old woman,” Walt charged. “Everybody knows she’s half crazy. If she wasn’t, she wouldn’t be livin’ with a gang of outlaws. And every one of them outlaws at that church would lie to try to stop me from roundin’ ’em all up.”

  Wayne was still standing there, wearing his confusion on his face, so Ben continued. “I’m also chargin’ him with attemptin’ to break two prisoners out of the Buzzard’s Bluff jail. His buckskin horse was identified when he escaped after the jailbreak was prevented, and I’m bettin’ we’ll find a mask made out of a sack in his saddlebags when we check ’em. On top of that, there’s a little thing about drawin’ his weapon on a peace officer.” He nodded toward a sulking Walt Murphy and said, “That’s how he got the wound in his shoulder.” When Wayne remained dumbfounded by what he had just heard, Ben asked, “So, now, how ’bout that doctor?”

  “Right,” he replied, but still stood there as if waiting for Walt to say something. When he failed to, Wayne unlocked the cell door and left the key in the door, then walked outside to send someone for Dr. Griffin. He was right back within a few minutes to report that the blacksmith’s son volunteered to fetch the doctor. It was in time to see Ben removing Walt’s handcuffs.

  “Good,” Ben replied. “While we wait for the doctor, let’s go in the office and talk about a few things.” Wayne dutifully followed him into the office, and Ben closed the cell room door behind them. “First, I know this is kind of a surprise to spring on you, so I’d like to tell you everything I’ve got on Walt, so far. I know he hired you, so you most likely don’t like turnin’ on him like this, but Walt’s been takin’ advantage of the town of Waco for a long time. He’s gone too far now, when he starts killin’ innocent people just because he thinks they know too much.” He went on to tell Wayne about the stolen bank money he was sure Walt had in his possession. When he was finished, there were very few questions left for Wayne to ask.

  “So, what are you plannin’ to do with him now?” Wayne asked.

  “As far as I’m concerned, you’re the sheriff here now,” Ben answered. “So, I’m leavin’ him here in your custody until the Federal Marshals pick him up and take him to trial. It’s a tough way for you to start off as sheriff, with him right under your nose, but if you’re made of the kind of steel I think you are, you’ll handle it. And right now is the time when you’ve got to stake your claim for the job of sheriff and show your city council you’re ready to do it. So, whaddaya say, do you wanna be sheriff?”

  “I reckon I do,” he said at once. “I’ll sure as hell try to impress Mayor McNeal and the rest of the council.”

  “Good man,” Ben told him. “There’s also the question of over twenty thousand dollars of stolen money that belongs to the Bank of Lee County. Walt’s got it hidden somewhere. If we can find it, it needs to go bac
k to the bank. You got any idea where he might have taken that to hide?”

  “I ain’t got any notion,” Wayne replied. “He’s got a cabin up the river a mile or so. Maybe he hid it there somewhere.”

  “If you tell me how to find that cabin, I’ll go see if I can find where he hid the money,” Ben said. “If I find it, I’ll turn that over to you, too, and you can collect the reward money the bank’s offerin’.”

  “Why would you do that?” Wayne asked.

  “Just a little spendin’ money to get you started off right in your new job,” Ben said.

  They were interrupted then by the arrival of Dr. Fred Griffin. He looked surprised to see Ben and Wayne standing there talking. “The blacksmith’s boy said you sent for me to tend the sheriff’s bullet wound,” Griffin said to Wayne. He seemed a little unsure of the message.

  “That’s right, Doc,” Wayne replied. “He’s in the cell room. I’ll go with you.” Before leading the doctor into the cell room, Wayne glanced at Ben for approval and got a nod to let him know he should be guarding the prisoner while he was with the doctor.

  The door between the office and the cell room had been closed for no longer than a couple of minutes when the front door opened and a slightly built man, wearing a frock coat and a derby hat, walked in. He stopped in the doorway for a long moment to gawk at the big broad-shouldered stranger standing by the desk before he entered the room. “I’m Mayor John McNeal,” he stated, before asking, “Where’s Sheriff Murphy?”

  “He’s in there with the doctor and Deputy Price,” Ben said, nodding toward the cell room door.

  “Who are you?” McNeal asked and Ben identified himself as a Texas Ranger. “I heard that Sheriff Murphy was led up the street with his hands cuffed behind him. Was that you?”

  Ben nodded and said that it was. He realized that he was just getting the first of a great many reactions of shock from the citizens of the town. Walt had obviously established himself as an invincible guardian of the town and its laws. “Yes, sir, Mr. Mayor, that was me. Ben Savage, Texas Ranger,” he said, showing McNeal his badge. “We’ve been on to Sheriff Murphy for quite some time now and I think we’ve finally got enough evidence to convict him.” He was lying about the Rangers investigating Walt before, but he thought that made it sound more official. “I have to tell you, sir, you’ve got yourself an honest, outstandin’ deputy in Wayne Price. You’re lucky he’s qualified to take over the job of sheriff when the marshals come to pick Murphy up.” He went on to tell the mayor about Walt’s involvement with the outlaw element and the extent to which he was willing to go to satisfy his greed.

  McNeal shook his head while he thought about it. “You mean that little raiding party he organized against those outlaws in that old church building—a raid that I gave my okay to—was really just an attempt to kill some witnesses to his deceit?”

  “I’m afraid so,” Ben replied, which caused the mayor to shake his head again. “You ain’t the only one he’s fooled, so I wouldn’t be too hard on myself, if I was you.” He went on to tell the mayor about the stolen bank money. “Walt’s got it hid somewhere, so we’ll try to find it. In the desk drawer, there’s a sizeable roll of money I took off him when I arrested him. I suspect it’s part of that bank money, unless you folks pay your sheriff a helluva lot more than other towns do.”

  It was obvious that the explosion of facts presented to the mayor were almost too much for the slight man to believe about a man who had held his trust. Ben feared that McNeal’s knees were going to fail him before they finished talking. “Can I see Sheriff Murphy?” McNeal finally asked, as if he needed to see Walt to believe all he had just heard.

  “I don’t see why not,” Ben said. “He’s right in there where the doctor’s workin’ on him.” He went over and opened the cell room door for him. McNeal walked in to find Walt sitting on a bunk facing him while Dr. Griffin fashioned a sling to support his arm.

  “It’s all a bunch of hogwash, John!” Walt blurted when he saw the mayor. “I didn’t do none of that stuff that saloon ranger said I did. They’re just tryin’ to get rid of me. You need to tell ’em to let me outta here, or the whole town’s gonna go to hell.”

  “Be still!” Dr. Griffin barked, “unless you wanna put this damn sling on yourself.”

  Walt ignored him. “John, you know I’m the only reason we’ve kept the peace in this town, and ain’t nobody can do it but me. Who you gonna believe, me or this damn saloon ranger that just drifted into town?”

  “Finish the damn thing yourself!” Dr. Griffin said, when Walt wouldn’t hold still. He got up from the stool he had been sitting on, wrapped his instruments in a towel, and dropped them in his bag. He looked at Wayne, who was in the cell with him, his gun drawn. “Let me out. He’s gonna be all right. I got the bullet out, and if he doesn’t do anything to stress it, it’ll heal just fine.” When he walked past McNeal, he said, “I’ll send you my bill for fixin’ him, just like I always do. I don’t care if he is the damn sheriff.” McNeal turned around and followed him out, still finding it difficult to believe the sudden turn of events.

  Ben remained in the cell room until Wayne had locked Walt’s cell, then he came out to the office with him. Both the doctor and the mayor were waiting for them. “Why does Walt keep calling you a saloon ranger?” McNeal asked Ben, thinking that maybe Walt knew about a drinking problem Ben had.

  Suspecting as much, Ben smiled and answered. “Because I’m half-owner of a saloon in Buzzard’s Bluff. If you’re ever down that way, drop in for a drink at the Lost Coyote. If you’re worried about my authority to arrest Walt Murphy, it’s easy enough to check. Go to the telegraph office and wire Ranger Headquarters in Austin and ask about my status.”

  * * *

  “What tha . . .?” Riley Best started and pulled his horse to a stop in the middle of the road. “Reuben! Lookee yonder!”

  Reuben Drum reined his horse to a stop beside Riley’s and strained to see what Riley was looking at. “Where?” He asked. “I don’t see nothin’.”

  “That’s just what I’m talkin’ about,” Riley replied. “You don’t see nothin’ and we’re supposed to see the church from this spot on the road.”

  “I swear, you’re right,” Reuben said. “What the hell happened?” They both kicked their horses and set off for the path to the church at a gallop. As soon as they reached it and followed it around the grove of trees near the wagon road, they saw the reason they hadn’t seen it from the road. “Oh, me. Oh, me.” Reuben could only repeat over and over as he gazed at the blackened ruins of what had been his domain, his little kingdom. “What happened?” He asked, then his next thought was, “What have them three women done?” For whatever it was, they were successful in destroying everything he had acquired since finding the old church building. He looked at Riley, who could only shake his head in wonder. They rode on up to the ruins and dismounted.

  “What the hell?” Riley blurted when he saw the outhouse lying on its side. The little barn was unharmed, but when he began looking around back of it, he discovered what appeared to be a fresh grave. “Look here, Reuben!” he called out, and when the old man joined him, he asked, “Don’t that look like a grave to you?”

  “It sure does,” Reuben agreed, “and I think I got a pretty good idea who’s in it.” While Riley had been looking around the barn and the outhouse, he had been taking a closer look at the church building. “I think them three women are in that grave. You look at the church buildin’. There’s a helluva lotta tracks around the whole buildin’, like a bunch of horses ridin’ round and round it, and there’s somethin’ that looks like bloodstains on the back steps.” He gave Riley a solemn look. “There’s bad business here, and I think whoever burnt this place down was after me and you.”

  “Ben Savage?” Riley asked.

  “No, hell no,” Reuben responded. “If it’da been him, he’da been tryin’ to arrest us. It was Walt Murphy. There ain’t no doubt about it, we know for sure now he killed Pete Russe
ll and he’s got that money. You saw him ride after Pete that day. And now he came out here to make sure he didn’t have to split it with me and you. It can’t be anybody else.”

  “I reckon you’re right,” Riley said. “And I bet he weren’t too happy when he found out me and you was gone.” He turned to look again at the grave. “I swear, that’s just a damn shame about them three women. They didn’t deserve to be treated like that.”

  Reuben was thinking the same thing. “I reckon I owe Walt Murphy for this little piece of business.”

  “Whaddaya think we oughta do?” Riley asked. “He’s kinda put us outta business here.”

  “He’s wiped us out here,” Reuben answered, “so I reckon we’ll just have to go set up in his territory till we decide what we’re gonna do. If we can get our hands on that money, we can do whatever we want.” When Riley immediately asked if he was talking about going to Waco, Reuben explained what he meant. “We can go to the part of town we’ve always gone to, the Reservation. Me and you can go to the Hog’s Breath. Brady John will give us a room and he can tell us what Walt is up to. It oughta be easy enough to lure him down to that part of town to take care of a little trouble. Then he’d be in our territory again.” He took another long look at the new grave. “I swear, it’d be a lotta work, but I’d like to dig that grave up just to be sure it’s who I think it is in there.”

  Riley shrugged. “Maybe not so hard as you think. It’s fresh-dug dirt, and it ain’t been dug that long. I’d like to see, myself. If there’s somebody else buried here, it might tell a whole different story. I’ll get the shovel outta the barn.”