The Devil's Boneyard Read online

  “You sure you counted ’em right?” Drum responded, since Slim wasn’t noted for his carefulness.

  “Yeah, I’m sure,” Slim answered. “Me and Riley rounded ’em up and put ’em in the corral and there’s two that ain’t there.” He looked at Riley for confirmation.

  “That’s a fact,” Riley reported, then looked at Ormond. “All our horses was there, but the two you boys rode in on are missin’. Your packhorse didn’t run off with’em, though.”

  Sitting at the table, working on a bottle of whiskey with Dora and Pauline helping out, Pete Russell and Ormond Hazzard immediately snapped out of a lazy haze when they realized he was talking about their horses. “What are you talkin’ about?” Ormond demanded. “Our horses better not be missin’. They was grazin’ right there with the rest of the horses.” He looked around frantically as if looking for someone to blame. “What the hell, Reuben? I thought we was safe here.”

  “Ain’t no use to get excited, Ormond,” Reuben said. “They musta just wandered off somewhere. They ain’t been here long enough to get used to stayin’ with our little herd. Don’t you expect, Lester?”

  “I expect you might be right,” Reuben’s son, Lester, answered. “They’ll most likely wander back to the rest of the horses before dark.”

  “You sure that crooked sheriff that was in here is on the up-and-up with you?” Pete asked.”

  “Walt Murphy’s been workin’ with me for a long time,” Reuben assured him. “He may be a lotta things that ain’t all good, but he ain’t a horse thief. Just give them horses a little time. They’ll wander back to the corral.”

  “I don’t know, maybe you’re right,” Ormond said. It was obvious that nobody else was the least bit concerned about the two missing horses. And while it stood to reason that he and Pete would be the only ones motivated to go and look for them, he was not that enthusiastic about leaving the whiskey and the company of the two women. He looked at Pete and shrugged. “I reckon it ain’t nothin’ to worry about.”

  After a while, Pete began to worry a little when the light coming in the windows began to fade rapidly. He looked at Ormond and he could tell right away that Ormond was thinking the same thing he was, so he got up from the table and said he was going to check the corral to see if their horses had wandered back. In a very short time, he returned and reported that there was still no sign of the two horses. “I ain’t plannin’ to set around this table drinkin’ whiskey while my horse is wanderin’ up that creek somewhere.” He turned to look at his partner. “What about you, Ormond?”

  “I’ll go with you,” Ormond said at once. He was not under any illusion that those stolen horses felt any affinity for either one of them, so they wouldn’t be prone to come looking for Pete and him. “We’ll borrow a couple of your horses. You can’t round up no horses on foot. There ain’t no tellin’ how far they wandered.” He looked directly at Pete when he said it and Pete nodded, for he was thinking along the same lines his partner was. They were both carrying about seventy-five hundred dollars in their saddlebags, their share of the bank money they had split three ways. They needed their horses, but they didn’t want to go looking for them while their saddlebags were left there in the church for Reuben and his son to go through.

  “Sure,” Reuben said, “take any of ’em.”

  “Any of ’em, but that gray,” Lester informed them. “That gray’s my horse and don’t nobody ride him but me.”

  “Come on, Pete, let’s saddle up a couple of horses and see if we can’t find ours,” Ormond said.

  “Whaddaya need a saddle for?” Riley Best asked. “If it was me, I’d just ride bareback for no farther than you’ll be ridin’.”

  “I don’t cotton to ridin’ bareback,” Ormond said. “I ain’t no damn Injun.”

  “Me, neither,” Pete remarked. “You got better control settin’ in a saddle. Besides, your horses ain’t used to us on their backs. Let’s go, Ormond.” They walked out of the room that was partitioned off for the saloon, to the back room where they were sleeping. This was where they also had their saddles and saddlebags.

  “We’ll give you a hand,” Lester said and followed them into the back room. Slim and Riley came along as well. The rest of the men remained to work on the whiskey. When they picked up their saddles, Lester was prompted to ask. “Whaddaya takin’ your saddlebags for?”

  “Oh,” Ormond responded and shrugged as if he did it without thinking. “Old habit, I reckon. Pete’s the same way. Anyway, a horse don’t feel like he’s been saddled without the saddlebags. At least, that’s the way I was always told.”

  “Hell,” Slim couldn’t help remarking, “a horse don’t know the difference.” He grinned at Riley and asked, “How ’bout all that stuff you had on your packhorse? All that campin’ equipment, ain’t you gonna take that with you, too?”

  “Different folks got different ways, I reckon,” Ormond said. “’Stead of wastin’ time talkin’ about it, lets go find our horses.” He picked up his saddle and saddlebags and walked out the back door, heading for the corral. Pete hurried after him before there was any further debate on the subject of saddlebags. There had already been enough discussion to create a strong desire for Reuben’s son to see what they might be carrying in them.

  The two outlaws picked out a couple of horses, both of which were the property of Reuben Drum. They assured Lester that they would be careful with them as it was beginning to get dark. After talking about the best place to look for the horses, they decided on riding up the creek a short distance, then following it back. Their thinking was that the two horses might have found a place next to the water to wait for morning. Once they were away from the church, they stopped to discuss further options. Still with suspicions about Sheriff Walt Murphy, they thought he might very well have something to do with their missing horses. So they decided, if they didn’t find the horses pretty quick, they would just keep on going. They had their money with them and horses and saddles, too. So there was nothing to force them to return to the church.

  CHAPTER 7

  “We shouldn’ta waited so long before we went after ’em,” Ormond complained. “It’s gettin’ darker every minute. We’ll be lucky if we find them horses before daylight.”

  “Maybe not,” Pete replied. “I can’t see no reason those horses would wander off like that and not come back. That blame sheriff looked like a horse thief to me. I think that’s what happened to our horses. Don’t it strike you kinda strange that the two best horses in the bunch was the ones that ain’t come home? I’m thinkin’ we sure did the right thing when we took our saddlebags with us. If we don’t find our horses up this crick pretty soon, I think we’d best keep right on goin’. We got horses. They ain’t as good as the ones we lost, but they’ll get us to where we can buy better ones—or steal ’em if we run up on somebody’s herd.”

  “That makes sense to me,” Ormond responded. “I ain’t never felt like I could turn my back on any of that bunch at the church, especially that son of his, and they’re all in this business with that sheriff.”

  They continued following the creek for a few minutes more before Pete said, “We ain’t gonna find them horses on this dark creek. We’re just wastin’ time before Reuben gets suspicious and they come after us. Let’s head on away from here.”

  “Hold on,” Ormond said. “I see ’em.” When Pete started craning his head in an effort to see where Ormond was looking, Ormond pointed. “Look yonder on the other side of the crick, back in them trees. They’re up in there.”

  “I don’t see nothin’,” Pete insisted. “Where?” Ormond kept pointing at a spot where two large trees overhung the creek. Pete stared at the darkness between the two trees for a long moment before he exclaimed, “I see ’em! Least, I saw somethin’ move on the other side of those trees. Come on, let’s go get ’em.”

  “Take it slow,” Ormond cautioned. “We don’t wanna spook ’em and have to chase ’em all over the county.”

  “Right,” Pete repli
ed, “we’ll just walk up to ’em nice and easy.” They did just that, guiding their horses into the shallow creek to come up downstream of the ones they had spotted. They found the two missing horses standing together and they showed no signs of bolting as Pete and Ormond slowly dismounted and began to walk toward them.

  “Easy . . . Easy,” Ormond murmured calmly as he and Pete approached the dun and the Morgan. “What tha. . .” He started then. “They ain’t runnin’ ’cause they’re tied to the tree. What tha . . .” He started again.

  “One of ’em’s saddled!” Pete blurted. “Somethin’s goin’ on here,” he said and started to reach for the. 44 at his side.

  “Do it and you’re dead,” Ben warned him. “Get your hands up where I can see ’em, or I’ll cut you down where you stand.” Then he raised his voice. “Keep your shotgun on ’em, Tuck. If they make a move toward those guns, blast ’em.” He took a few steps away from the bushes he had been hiding in to position himself directly behind them, his six-gun in hand. “All right, one at a time, you first, big’un. Very slowly, take your left hand and unbuckle that gun belt and let it drop. Tuck, keep that shotgun on the skinny one. If he makes a move, blow a hole in him.” Feeling helplessly trapped, Ormond hesitated before moving to unbuckle his belt. “You’re makin’ it hard to keep my finger still on this trigger and it’s a little touchy as it is,” Ben warned.

  “I figured you for a yellow-bellied back-shooter when you was here before,” Ormond challenged. “Why didn’t you call me out face to face when you was here this mornin’?” he asked, trying to stall as long as he could.

  Realizing Ormond thought he was Walt Murphy, Ben said, “I thought you might be too fast for me, so I waited till I could bring a little help. “Tuck, if he doesn’t drop that belt by the time I count to three, give him a taste of that buckshot. One, two . . .” That was as far as he got before the belt dropped to the ground. “Put your hands behind your back,” Ben ordered. Ormond reluctantly obeyed, convinced he would be shot if he didn’t. “Watch the other one, Tuck,” Ben said as he quickly clamped one of the two pairs of handcuffs he brought with him on Ormond. With thoughts of resistance useless, Pete didn’t wait to be told. He unbuckled his gun belt and let it drop to the ground while he strained to peer into the dark bushes on the other side of the horses, trying to make out the man with the shotgun. He flinched slightly when Ben pulled his wounded arm back to handcuff him. With Pete cuffed and on his knees, Ben turned his attention to the bigger man.

  He took the coil of rope he always carried on his saddle, fashioned a loop at one end, and threw it over Ormond’s head, drawing it tight around his arms. With his arms bound tight against his sides, Ormond could do little to resist being pulled close to a tree and tied there while Ben helped Pete back up on his feet. “You!” Pete gasped when Ben turned him around and he was able to get a look at his captor. “Savage!” He blurted again. “Ormond, it ain’t the sheriff! It’s that gunslinger that shot Malcolm! Ormond!” He exclaimed again when he didn’t answer right away.

  “I know it,” Ormond answered him. “I can see him.” He strained against the rope restraining him as he stared at Ben. “Why are you tailin’ us? Ain’t you done enough harm to us? You killed my brother. Ain’t that enough for you?”

  “You stole my horse,” Ben answered. “You shouldn’t have run off with that dun yonder.”

  Ben Savage was the last person he expected to see at this particular time. Later on, he had told himself when he and Pete had to run from Buzzard’s Bluff, he would return to take his vengeance against the big saloon owner when everything had cooled down. “You’re makin’ the biggest mistake you ever made in your life, Savage,” he warned. “Whaddaya think you’re gonna do with us? Take us to the jailhouse?” He hoped that was what Ben intended, since if was unlikely Ben knew of Walt Murphy’s partnership with Reuben Drum. “How you gonna take both of us to jail by yourself?”

  “What about the jasper with the shotgun, Ormond?” Pete reminded him.

  “Pete, you damn idiot, there ain’t nobody in the bushes with a shotgun,” Ormond said. “He played us for a couple of fools. Ain’t that right, Savage? But you’ve still gotta take us to the jail and that might take some doin’. To start with, you got Pete up on that horse, but I ain’t gonna get on my horse. I’m as big as you are, and I ain’t gonna get on no horse. You gonna shoot me? ’Cause if you do, you’re gonna have half a dozen men comin’ outta that church after you. You think about that.” He paused briefly to let that soak in, then said, “I’ll tell you what. You untie me and get these handcuffs off me and Pete, and we’ll let you get on your damn horse and ride outta here and no hard feelins.”

  “I swear, Ormond,” knowing his name now, since Pete called him by it, “that’s a mighty considerate offer. Just set you free and you’ll just watch me ride away. It’d be even better if I was to set you free and shoot myself, wouldn’t it—save you the trouble. Now I was figurin’ on helpin’ you up on your horse, like I did with your partner. Figured you’d rather sit up on a horse instead of walkin’ all the way.”

  “I ain’t walkin’ nowhere,” Ormond stated flatly, “and that’s all there is to it.”

  “I’m a reasonable man, so if that’s your choice, I’m here to accommodate you. You ain’t the first man I’ve arrested that decided he’d rather be dragged by a horse. Tell you the truth, though, I ain’t ever had one that didn’t change his mind after about half a mile. Draggin’ is a little bit harder on the horses, too, but we’ve got a couple extra, so we can trade off.”

  Ormond was not sure if Ben was bluffing or not. “Why do you keep talkin’ about arrestin’ us? You ain’t no lawman. You can’t arrest nobody.”

  “Well, that’s where you’re wrong,” Ben told him. He pulled his coat aside and said, “If it ain’t too dark for you to see, this is a Texas Ranger badge, and you are under arrest. There ain’t no doubt about that, for horse stealin’, bank robbery, and murder of a bank teller in Giddings. There’s also a little matter of attempted murder of the sheriff in Buzzard’s Bluff. I’m sure you’ll be glad to know he ain’t dead. You just nicked him in the arm. I expect we’d best get started. We’ve got a long way to go.”

  “It’s four miles to Waco,” Pete protested. “You ain’t really thinkin’ about draggin’ him all the way to town, are you?”

  “No,” Ben answered. “We ain’t goin’ to Waco. I’m plannin’ to drag him about seventy miles, back to Buzzard’s Bluff. And that’s where you’ll wait for the marshals to transport you to Austin for trial.” Pete stared at him in disbelief. “I’m sorry Ormond is gonna slow us up, but he says he’d rather get dragged that far instead of sittin’ in the saddle.” The subject of their conversation stood gaping at the two of them discussing his method of transport, as Pete and Ormond were still unable to believe what they were hearing. “Well, we’re just wastin’ time standin’ here jawin’,” Ben announced. “Let’s get you offa that tree.”

  He loosened the end of the rope from the limb where he had tied it off, then walked round and round the tree to free Ormond from the trunk. Thinking this was his opportunity to escape and feeling sure Ben didn’t want to shoot, because that would bring Reuben and the others, Ormond got set to run. He stood tensed, as each turn of the rope disappeared from around him until, finally, he was free of the tree. With his hands cuffed behind his back, he couldn’t remove the one loop still around his arms, but he could run. So, when the last turn of the rope fell away and he was held only by the loop, he didn’t hesitate. He took off as fast as he could run toward the berry bushes straight ahead. Ben, expecting just such an attempt, took another quick turn around the tree with the very end of the rope and braced himself. Running for all he was worth, Ormond quickly took all the slack out of the long length of rope. The result was a sudden stop for his upper body while his feet proceeded ahead of him to land him flat on his back. While he tried to recover his breath, Ben was already binding his feet together and tying them securely to his hands. Wi
th the length of rope he had left, he tied it to Ormond’s saddle.

  When he was satisfied that Ormond was securely bound, he said, “Well, boys, I reckon we’re ready to start back to Buzzard’s Bluff. I’m gonna borrow that rope on your saddle, Pete. I think that’s what I heard him call you.”

  Pete watched him while he rigged up a lead rope that he tied all the reins of the other horses to, then prepared to climb up on Cousin. “I swear,” Pete asked, “you ain’t really gonna drag him all the way to Buzzard’s Bluff, are you?”

  “You heard him say that’s the way he preferred to travel,” Ben answered. “And one thing I learned ridin’ with the Rangers, was to make your prisoner as comfortable as possible. How ’bout you? You comfortable in that saddle?”

  Pete didn’t answer the question. Instead, he asked, “Who’s Tuck, that feller you was talkin’ too in the bushes?”

  “Tuck?” Ben responded. “He’s a fellow who likes to give me a hand whenever he can.” It was too dark for Pete to see the smile on Ben’s face when he thought about the bandy-legged little keg of dynamite. He’d have to be sure to thank Tuck for his help in capturing the two of them. Up in the saddle then, he looked back at the furious man tied hand and foot on the ground behind him. “It’s liable to be a little rough till we get outta these woods, but it’ll go a little bit smoother when we get out on the road.” With that warning, he gave Cousin a firm nudge, which the horse knew as a signal to jump to a smart pace. Ormond couldn’t prevent the bellow that escaped his mouth when his horse followed and jerked him across a tree root.

  That was all the sound that came out of the stubborn outlaw’s mouth for a few minutes, although the pounding his body was taking could be heard as he was dragged across the rough ground. Ben took a wide circle around the little rise the church was on in case Ormond couldn’t keep from yelling. It was Ormand’s foolish attempt to show his toughness and determination. Ben was hoping to break his stubborn resistance before riding very far. He had no intention of brutally dragging a man for very long, even a man like Ormond, who disrespected human life. So he was relieved when Ormond finally called it quits. “All right. All right,” he yelled shortly after they reached the road below the church. “I’ll ride, damn it!”