Will Tanner Page 4

  “Well”—she beamed as she said it—“we should be honored to compete with the Morning Glory.” Will was certain he saw the big man flush slightly.

  “We’ve got some things to do to get ready to leave in the mornin’,” Pride said. “So I reckon we’ll see you back here at suppertime.”

  * * *

  The rest of that day was spent getting everything ready to roll in the morning. They visited three saloons before they found Charlie Tate to accompany them the next day to buy the supplies they would need for the trip. Along with the flour, coffee, salt, sugar, dried beans, potatoes, bacon, beef, and grain for the horses, Pride loaded a long chain on the wagon they picked up at the wagon sheds behind the stable. When Will asked about the purpose of the chain, Pride explained that it was to shackle prisoners. Charlie assured them he and the wagon would be right on time to meet them at eight in the morning. Will wondered why the late start, since his days normally started at sunup. Pride explained that he wanted to eat breakfast at the boardinghouse before starting out. “After you try some of Charlie’s cookin’, you’ll understand why,” he said.

  A little before noon, they joined almost all the other citizens of Fort Smith who had gathered at the gallows, located in a small courtyard behind the jail. Close to the stroke of noon, two guards walked Troy Gamble up the twelve steps to the platform, his hands tied behind his back, and a defiant sneer on his face. His guards led him to a bench at the back of the platform and sat him down to await the reading of his sentence. Standing alone at the side of the platform, the hangman stood patiently waiting. Pride informed Will that his name was George Maledon and he had earned a reputation as the Prince of Hangmen. Seeming disinterested then, Pride left them and began to casually make his way through the crowd of spectators, leaving Will and Charlie still watching the execution. He stopped behind a woman wearing a black bonnet when the court clerk finished reading the sentence and stepped aside for the guards to bring Troy to stand on the trap. The hangman stepped forward to adjust the noose. Unnoticed by all but a few people standing close by, Pride caught the arm of the lady in the bonnet when she pulled the revolver from her skirt and tried to raise it. “Now, Mrs. Gamble,” he calmly said, “you don’t wanna do somethin’ like that. It ain’t gonna bring your boy back, and it’d just bring you a barrelful of trouble.”

  Caught up in her grief, Effie Gamble collapsed as Maledon sprang the trap, sending her youngest to join the rest of the men in her family to the accompaniment of a chorus of gasps from the fascinated spectators. She would have fallen had not the massive deputy locked her in his arms. Completely defeated, she made no effort to resist when Pride took the revolver from her hand and stuck it in his belt. With tears streaming down her face, she could stand only with Pride’s support, so he stood with her for a while until she seemed to regain some strength. Will and Charlie watched, astonished by the big deputy’s actions, still unaware of what had taken place. They followed when he walked the grieving widow away from the gallows and back toward the front of the courthouse, catching up in time to hear his quiet conversation. “I know it’s hard,” he told her, “but this chapter’s done and gone. You’ve got to get on with the rest of your life. Now, if you’ll promise me you’ll go straight back to Kansas, or wherever you came here from, I won’t arrest you and I won’t tell nobody about this. All right?” She didn’t answer right away, so he pressed. “All right? I gotta have your promise.” Finally, she nodded, but he insisted. “I gotta hear you promise.”

  “I promise,” she finally muttered, barely above a whisper.

  “All right, then,” Pride said. “You got a place to stay in town?” She said she had a room in the hotel. “All right,” he repeated, “I’ll stand right here and watch you go. I’m sorry ’bout your loss. You go along now, and you won’t be in no trouble.”

  “What in tarnation was that all about?” Charlie asked.

  Pride pulled the revolver from his belt and held it up for them to see. “That was Troy Gamble’s mama,” he said. “She was fixin’ to shoot somebody with this here pistol. The clerk, the hangman—I don’t know if she knew. She most likely couldn’ta hit what she was aimin’ at, even if she pulled the trigger.” He cocked an eye in Will’s direction. “She didn’t know it, but it was me or you she shoulda been aimin’ at.”

  “How the hell did you know who she was?” Charlie asked.

  “Well, I warn’t sure,” Pride admitted. “But she was the only woman in the crowd wearin’ a black dress and a black hat and veil, so I figured I’d just stand by her to see if she might be thinkin’ about doin’ somethin’ crazy.”

  “You think she knew about what happened to her husband and her other two sons last night?” Will asked.

  “I don’t know,” Pride said. “I don’t know for sure if she even knew they were in town, but she most likely knew they were comin’ after me.” He shook his head, thinking about her. “I hope she did, ’cause if she didn’t, it’s liable to kill her when she finds out.”

  “Did you tell her you was the one that brought Troy in?” Charlie asked.

  “Hell, no,” Pride blurted.

  There was no doubt in Will’s mind that the veteran deputy marshal had been anticipating the possibility of a grief-stricken member of the Gamble family showing up at the hanging, with an intent to take revenge on the authorities. It was something he would keep in mind after this. He decided there was much to learn about his new job, beyond shoot-outs with bank robbers, murderers, and horse thieves.

  * * *

  With the excitement of the hanging over, the three men returned to their preparations to leave town the following morning. Since the wagon was stocked, Charlie prepared to drive it to his cabin east of town to park it overnight. “Don’t make me come lookin’ for you in the mornin’,” Pride warned him, fully aware of Charlie’s weakness for whiskey.

  “Don’t worry ’bout me,” Charlie retorted. “Just be sure you’re ready to go when I get here.” They parted then, and Will and Pride headed back to Ruth’s.

  They arrived back at the house with a little time left before Ruth rang the supper bell. So Will decided he’d take advantage of the washroom facilities. Pride said to go right ahead; he had just taken a dip in the Poteau River a week ago and hadn’t sweated all that much since. “Don’t be late for supper,” he advised. “You don’t wanna be the last one to get to the pork chop platter.” Will laughed, said he’d be quick, and went upstairs to his room. He put away in the bureau the few possessions he didn’t need to take with him, taking up less than half of one drawer. He pulled off his boots, socks, and shirt; threw the towel provided around his neck; picked up the washcloth, his bar of soap, and his razor; then headed down the back stairs to the porch. He walked across the porch to the small washroom, only to find the door locked. He gave it another firm tug, in case it was just stuck and not locked.

  “I’ll just be a minute,” a feminine voice sang out cheerfully from inside.

  “Sorry,” he quickly apologized, and stepped back from the door.

  After a few minutes, the door opened and a young girl came out. Astonished, for he was under the impression that all Ruth’s guests were older people, he jumped back a couple more steps, sliding his bare foot on the porch floor and picking up a splinter in the process. “Ow!” he blurted while he fumbled with his towel in an effort to cover his bare torso.

  She couldn’t help laughing at his reaction. “I’m sorry I startled you,” she said, still smiling broadly. “I was just cleaning up the room a little.” She paused while he limped aside to give her room to pass. “You must be our new guest,” she said. He nodded, wishing she’d just go, so he could pull the splinter out of his foot. “My name’s Sophie,” she said. “My mother owns the house.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” he said. “Will Tanner.”

  “Welcome to our home, Mr. Tanner. May I call you Will?”

  “Yes, ma’am, please do.” You can call me jackass if you want, pretty as you are, he thought
.

  “Well, let me get out of your way. I’d best go help Mama get supper on the table. Don’t be late—we’re having pork chops tonight.”

  “No, ma’am, I won’t,” he assured her, then hurried inside, closed the door, and immediately sat down on the floor and went after the splinter that had halfway imbedded itself in the pad of his foot.

  After a basin bath and a quick shave, he returned to his room, where he put on his clean shirt and pulled his boots back on. It was only a few minutes after that he heard the cheerful ring of Ruth’s little dinner bell. Halfway expecting to hear a stampede of running feet and slamming bedroom doors, he was surprised by the casual response by the other guests. There were only three, all male, and he almost bumped into one of them when he came out of his room. The man, a short, frail, little gray-haired gentleman, paused and politely signaled Will to precede him. Will couldn’t help thinking that it was strange surroundings for two unrefined lawmen like him and Pride. He could hear Pride’s booming voice from downstairs already.

  “I met your friend on the back porch,” Sophie said to Pride, who was already seated at the table. “Mama said he’s a deputy marshal like you.”

  “That’s right,” Pride replied.

  “I noticed that he walks with a limp,” Sophie said. “Is that from a wound he received in the line of duty?”

  “Huh?” Pride blurted. “I never noticed him walkin’ with a limp. And he just signed on this mornin’, so he ain’t been wounded in the line of duty.” Hearing someone coming through the parlor into the dining room, they both turned to see Will and the old gentleman he had met in the hall. Will wondered why the two seemed to stare extra hard at either him or the old man. Sophie returned to the kitchen to help with the serving.

  The meal lived up to Pride’s promise of excellence, and Will could understand why Pride wanted to have one more shot at Ruth’s table in the morning. Ruth introduced her new boarder to the other guests and they welcomed him warmly. He already felt at home by the time the meal was finished. Afterward, he and Pride retired to the front porch with two of the other boarders to let the pork chops and potatoes digest. Pride rolled a cigarette, and they rode the rocking chairs while he explained some of the obligations of a deputy’s job, and the various ways he could be paid additional fees while apprehending criminals. This was all interesting to Will, so he was disappointed when the discussion was interrupted by the arrival of a young man driving a buggy. He pulled up before the front gate of the house and stepped down. When he walked up the steps to the porch, he wished them all a good evening. “Garth Pearson, ain’t it?” Pride asked.

  “Yes, sir, that’s right,” the young man said, surprised that the deputy remembered his name. “I work for Judge Parker.”

  “I remember,” Pride said. “If you’ve come for supper, you’re too late. I think the women are already cleanin’ up the table.”

  “Oh no, sir,” Garth said. “I didn’t come for supper. It’s such a nice evening, I just thought I’d stop by to see if Miss Sophie might enjoy a ride in the buggy.”

  “She might at that,” Pride said. “Go on in and ask her.”

  Leonard Dickens, one of the two other boarders on the porch, got up from his chair. “I’m goin’ in. I’ll tell Sophie you’re here,” he said. The old man he had been talking to decided to go inside, too.

  “Have a seat, young feller,” Pride said. “They’ll find Sophie for you.”

  “I’ll just stand here,” Garth replied.

  “Suit yourself,” Pride said. “If I was a young feller like you, I’d sure be callin’ on Sophie, myself. She’s a fine-lookin’ little filly, and that’s a fact.” Garth forced a faint smile, obviously not wishing to discuss the young lady with the coarse deputy marshal. A silent witness to the conversation, Will had already decided he didn’t like Garth Pearson, although he was not sure why.

  In a few minutes, Sophie came to the front door. “Hello, Garth,” she greeted her caller, her voice almost musical.

  “Good evening, Sophie,” Garth responded politely, then seemed hesitant to explain his purpose, obviously uncomfortable with an audience of the two deputies.

  Amused by the young man’s awkwardness, Pride got up from his chair. “Come on, Will, let’s give ’em the porch.” Will reluctantly followed him inside.

  * * *

  Will lay awake for some time after he crawled into the bed. His first day as a deputy marshal was quite a day. He thought about the days to come and wondered if the job of a lawman suited him. He had decided on it pretty quickly, without a great deal of thought. It occurred to him that he should have sent word to Shorty and the boys. I guess after a while they’ll figure it out, he thought. Before he drifted off to sleep, his mind went back to the incident on the front porch, and he realized that he envied Garth Pearson. He seemed so groomed and proper in his high collar and necktie and his evening coat. He was the kind of man who would impress someone as pretty and sweet as Sophie. It doesn’t matter to me, he thought. I sure as hell ain’t in her class. But it took him a while to go to sleep.

  Always a light sleeper, he was awakened sometime later in the night by a squeaking sound from someone walking on the floorboards. It struck him as odd in the otherwise silent house. The sound seemed close by, maybe from Pride’s room next door. He started to turn over and go back to sleep, but then the thought struck him of the possibility that someone up to no good might be stalking the big deputy. In the dead of the night, his imagination needed little inspiration to come up with the possibility that Troy Gamble’s mother might still be looking to avenge her dead. She might have hired someone to seek out the deputy who brought her son to the gallows. Nah, he thought, go back to sleep. But he was already wide-awake, so he decided to have a look to be sure.

  As quietly as he could, he got out of bed, drew his. 44 from his holster on the chair, and moved silently to the door. Very slowly, he turned the knob and eased the door open just far enough to permit him to look down the darkened hallway. In the glow of a single candle, he recognized Ruth Bennett tiptoeing out of Pride’s room. She closed his door quietly behind her and tiptoed down the hall to the back stairs. Well, I’ll be . . . he thought, and eased the door shut again.

  CHAPTER 4

  Ruth served breakfast from six o’clock until eight, because some of her guests were not early risers. Will was sitting, drinking coffee before the first platters of scrambled eggs were delivered to the table. Sophie had greeted him with a good-morning smile and brought him a cup before the bacon was finished frying. “You’re an early riser,” she said cheerfully. “It won’t be long, though.” She turned to look at the clock. “It’s not even six yet.”

  “I reckon I’ve been gettin’ up at daybreak for so long I can’t break the habit,” he said. He glanced toward the door then, hearing the heavy tread of his partner coming in. “Mornin’,” he said to Pride.

  “Mornin’,” Pride returned. “And good mornin’ to you, missy,” he said to Sophie. “How ’bout gettin’ me a cup of that coffee?” She picked up his cup and went to the kitchen to fill it. “Ain’t she a right pretty little filly?” he asked.

  “She sure is,” Will agreed. “You act like you’re in a good mood this mornin’. You musta slept good.”

  “I reckon,” Pride said. “I tossed and turned a little at first, but I finally went to sleep about eleven or eleven thirty.”

  “That’s funny. I woke up about that time, thought I heard some little squeakin’ noises,” Will said.

  “Mice,” Pride replied at once. “House is full of ’em. Ruth oughta do somethin’ about all them mice.”

  After breakfast, Pride told Ruth they would probably be gone for three or four weeks, depending on how their luck ran. She wished them a safe trip and asked them to be careful. Pride said they would, then he and Will went to the stable to get their horses. They found Charlie waiting for them. “It’s about time,” Charlie complained. “I thought I was gonna have to go to that fancy boardin’house you sta
y at and root you out.”

  Pride didn’t answer him; he looked at Vern Tuttle instead. “How long’s he been here, Vern?”

  “He rolled in about a minute before you got here,” Vern said.

  “What I figured,” Pride said. “That’s your first lie of the day, Charlie.” He smiled at Will and informed him, “He’ll tell about a hundred a day.” Changing the subject, he commented, “That’s a fine-lookin’ buckskin you’re ridin’ there, Will.”

  “Yep,” Will replied. “He’s the best one I’ve ever owned. Good stamina and determination, good hard feet, and he don’t like to come in second.”

  “What’s his name?” Charlie asked.

  “Buster,” Will said.

  “Buster?” Charlie responded. “What’d you name him that for?”

  “No reason.” Will shrugged. “I just called him that one day right after I got him, and he didn’t seem to mind, so it stuck.”

  “I believe like the Injuns do,” Pride declared. “I think a man’s horse oughta be named to honor his bloodline and the spiritual part he plays as the man’s partner.”

  “Is that a fact?” Will replied. “What’d you name that dun you’re ridin’?”

  “Goat,” Pride said. They all laughed.

  So that’s the way it seemed on Will’s first official assignment as a U.S. Deputy Marshal, as if they were setting out on a Sunday picnic. In fact, they were starting on a journey that would take them seven and a half days, just to reach a starting point in their search.

  * * *

  Following a trail between the Sans Bois Mountains and the Winding Stair Mountains, they rode southwest until striking the Missouri-Kansas-Texas Railroad, locally known as the Katy. The Deadline, Charlie called it. When Will asked why, Charlie explained that the Katy marked the fringe of civilization. And when a lawman crossed the Deadline, he took his life in his hands. “You can ride on almost any trail leadin’ into that country on the other side of the railroad,” Charlie said, “and you’ll find little cards stuck on trees with a lawman’s name on it. That’s a promise that he’ll get shot if he keeps comin’.”