Arkansas Smith Page 9

‘I told you to go straight to Bowen’s place.’ Lance said, his voice dripping with menace, but on a sonic scale barely more than a whisper. ‘Not go off looking for the doctor.’

  Jim nodded. He decided against telling him that the doc was already dead before they had been ordered to go to the old Bowen place. ‘We thought you’d want to know. We didn’t mean to kill him.’

  ‘What happened to Clay?’

  Jim looked his boss firm in the eye and started to speak, but his words tripped over his tongue, which felt like a dry rag in his mouth.

  ‘Well?’ Lance prompted.

  ‘He’s dead.’

  ‘I know that,’ Lance said. ‘Arkansas implied you shot him.’

  ‘I weren’t aiming for him,’ Jim said, as if that explained everything. ‘I was looking to take that Arkansas fella down but Clay came into my line of fire at the last moment. I couldn’t do anything about it.’

  ‘I see.’ Lance placed the cigar in an ashtray and steepled his fingers to his lips. ‘You weren’t aiming for him! You killed the doc by accident and you weren’t aiming for Clay! Seems you have a lot of accidents.’

  Jim shrugged his shoulders and had to tense to stop his trembling knees from knocking together. His mouth was as dry as the hinges of hell and he just couldn’t work up any spit. He had to keep telling himself that he was safe, that they wouldn’t do anything with Rebecca asleep upstairs.

  They wouldn’t hurt him – not here, not now.

  ‘You’ve caused me some problems.’

  ‘I’m sorry, boss.’ Jim’s voice broke and he lost control. ‘Let me go get this Arkansas now,’ he pleaded, ‘I’ll kill him for you.’

  ‘Yes,’ Lance said, and then nodded at Jake.

  Before Jim could react, Jake’s powerful hands grabbed his throat and started to squeeze. The pressure would allow nothing more than a muted gurgle to escape rom Jim’s lips and he kicked and scrambled wildly. He dug his nails into Jake’s hands, tearing the flesh, but the big man didn’t seem to feel a thing. He pulled at the man’s grip as he felt himself being lifted from his feet. His eyes pushed at their sockets and felt as if they would burst free in a splash of optic fluid. The pressure on his throat increased and he started to feel light-headed as the last of the oxygen in his body was used up. It was at that last moment of life that Jim locked eyes with John Lance and he saw only a demonic coldness.

  It was a slow and painful way to die, but it was the way Jim went and it was some time before Jake released his grip and the cowboy’s lifeless body fell to the floor with the hollow thud that only a dead body could make.

  Lance shook his head, but before he could say a single word the door opened and Rebecca stood in the doorway. She looked first at her father and then at Jake and then her eyes fell onto Jim’s lifeless body.

  Rebecca opened her mouth and screamed.

  ‘I knew you was law,’ Rycot said, and smiled so widely that the only teeth he had were visible. ‘I knew it from the start. A man on the willow don’t strut around like no damned rooster.’

  ‘You calling me a chicken again?’ Arkansas said, and smiled.

  He had just finished telling Will and Rycot of the day and of what he’d learned. The only thing he had left out was that Rebecca was Lance’s daughter; that bit of knowledge was still gnawing away at his insides. He was angrier with her than he had any right to be. The fact that she had been around on the pretence of helping Will recover while secretly getting information for her father made him madder than a drunken Indian. His feeling made him feel foolish and dented his pride somewhat; he hadn’t thought he was the type to let a woman get to him like this.

  He had concluded his story by showing Will and Rycot – though he doubted the livery stable man was lettered – the telegram from the Justice O’Keefe which outlined the legal standing of Arkansas Smith as a special government marshal.

  ‘And another man has died today,’ Will said, in a cold, matter-of-fact way.

  ‘Yeah,’ Arkansas said and thought of Clay. ‘And there’ll likely be more before all this is over.’

  ‘So what happens next?’ Will asked.

  ‘I think Lance will be here with his so-called legal papers in the morning,’ Arkansas said. ‘He’ll have the sheriff and a few hastily sworn in deputies with him, no doubt. But what they don’t realize is I can overrule the sheriff.’

  Will smiled. ‘They’re going to be spitting teeth over this.’

  Arkansas smiled. ‘I expect so,’ he said. ‘And even more so when I order the sheriff to jail Lance to await trial by Justice O’Keefe.’

  ‘Lance won’t stand for that,’ Rycot said.

  ‘He’ll have no choice,’ Arkansas said firmly. ‘My evidence is flimsy and it’ll come down to my word against his, but I think the law will take my side. I’ve already started the ball rolling and Justice O’Keefe is looking into all the land deals Lance has made over the last few years.’

  ‘I know a few people Lance has cheated out of their spreads,’ Rycot pointed out and lit himself a cigarette. ‘He’s an empire builder is what he is. And he doesn’t care who he hurts to get what he wants.’

  ‘That’s true,’ Will said. ‘The land around here is thin soiled. Only suitable for grazing and to make serious money in the cattle business you need thousands of acres. Guess that’s what Lance is trying to do.’

  Arkansas took the water from the stove and poured three cups of coffee. He handed one to both Will and Rycot and took his own and went and stood over by the window.

  Was that the reasoning behind all this? He wondered. Was Lance merely empire building? Was it sheer greed that drove him to try and buy up every spread around the area? And what if folk refused, if his money couldn’t entice them to move? Would he then try and persuade them with a gun? It certainly looked that way with Will whose land seemed to have no worth other than the actual land value, which wasn’t a great deal at the moment. And old man Bowen’s disappearance was still very much a mystery.

  ‘I reckon we’d best all get some rest,’ Arkansas said, and peered out of the window at the inky black landscape. ‘We’re all gonna need our wits about us come morning.’

  ‘I’m fit enough to handle a gun,’ Will said, and stood up as if to prove the point. There was still some pain in his side, but overall he guessed he was doing OK everything considered.

  Arkansas nodded. Even although it had been little more than a flesh wound Will’s recovery was remarkable. The fever, which had sapped his strength, seemed to have all but vanished.

  Showed how strong he still was: once a Ranger always a Ranger.

  ‘Never been one for shooting myself,’ Rycot said. ‘But if a target’s big enough I can sure hit it. Might not always kill it, but I’ll slow it down some.’

  ‘Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,’ Arkansas said, though he knew that wasn’t very likely.

  He was hoping that things would start to unravel when he showed his papers to the sheriff and Lance realized he couldn’t hide behind the law. Maybe Lance wouldn’t have any fight in him when he knew he’d be unable to use the law to justify his crimes. It was easy enough to do all manner of ill when a man knew the law wasn’t going to intervene.

  ‘It will,’ Will said, matter-of-factly. ‘The only way to get a skunk like John Lance to listen is with red-hot lead.’

  Arkansas turned and looked at his old partner and an understanding passed between them. They both knew that whatever morning brought them then bloodshed would be a part of it.

  That much was inevitable.

  ‘Well, we’ll be ready for them,’ Arkansas said.

  ‘We’ll be outnumbered,’ Rycot interjected, nervously.

  ‘My Colts are six-shooters and the Spencer takes seven. That’ll be enough,’ Arkansas told him, and turned his attention back to the window and the rapidly retreating night outside. Dawn would be here in a matter of a few hours and with it would come the day of reckoning. ‘We’d best get some sleep now.’

  ‘Who can sle
ep with all this going on?’ Rycot paced the room, as jumpy as a tick on a hot plate. ‘Damn, couldn’t sleep if I tried.’ He continued to pace and when he got no answer he turned and noticed the other two men were indeed fast asleep. Will was slumped in the soft chair and Arkansas was curled in the foetal position on the floor.

  He shook his head in wonder. He couldn’t understand how these men could switch off so easily. Come dawn, Lance and his men would turn up, armed to the teeth and bloodshed would surely follow. And yet these two men were sleeping away as if they didn’t have a care in the world. He shook his head again and crept slowly over to the table and grabbed the remainder of the whiskey before sitting himself down in a corner.

  EIGHTEEN

  ‘Here they come,’ Arkansas warned and worked a slug into the chamber of the Spencer. He looked at Will and Rycot and nodded for them to take up their positions, which they did with the minimum of fuss.

  They had been preparing for this since first light. The plan had been talked over in great detail – when Lance and his men arrived Arkansas was going to go out to meet them, while Will would take up position at the window, rifle ready should anyone go for their guns. Rycot would stand in the doorway, his ancient but reliable rifle offering further deterrent against trouble.

  Arkansas felt that John Lance didn’t have the stomach for real trouble and would be unlikely to provoke a gunfight if there was the slightest chance of him getting hurt. He would have no compulsion about killing them all if it suited his needs, but he would much rather get others to carry out his killing while he remained at a safe distance. As it was none of them wanted to have to use their weapons, but it didn’t hurt to let the opposition know what they were up against.

  ‘How many?’ Will asked, straining his eyes to make out the men coming down the slope above the valley.

  ‘I count maybe ten men,’ Arkansas said. ‘We’ll know soon enough.’

  ‘I recognize the sheriff,’ Rycot said. ‘I know that long coat he wears. And that’s John Lance beside him. I’d know that arrogant, smug, son of a bitch anywhere. Could spot him a hundred miles away in a snowstorm if both my eyeballs had been poked out and their lids stitched together.’

  As the men neared, it became evident that both Arkansas and Rycot had been correct in their guesses. Lance rode up front, the sheriff behind him while eight other men, all armed, wearing gunbelts as well as carrying rifles, the butts protruding from the saddle boots, came just behind them. They looked like a well-armed militia and were obviously intending to intimidate.

  Arkansas stepped out onto boardwalk and coolly waited for them. He left the Spencer leaning in the open doorway but within easy reach. At close range he was quicker and far more effective with his six-shooters in any case, but it wouldn’t hurt to have the rifle should the need arise.

  Lance smiled when he saw Arkansas and he brought his horse to a halt a few feet from the man. The sheriff pulled up level beside him and the rest of the men remained behind but spread themselves out in a straight line either side of their boss.

  Arkansas had to give them credit. They certainly knew what they were doing; spread out like that they gave the impression of numbering more than they truly were. They were a formidable looking bunch even without the military tactics.

  ‘You know what I’ve come for,’ John Lance said, addressing his words at Arkansas.

  ‘Remind me,’ Arkansas replied, speaking to Lance but looking directly at the sheriff who shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. He quickly looked to his left as he saw the end of Will’s rifle protrude out through the gap in the window. Will was making sure the men knew he was there but offering as small a target as possible. His years with the Rangers had not been forgotten.

  John Lance shook his head and spat onto the ground. ‘Show him the papers.’

  The sheriff reached into his coat pocket and brought out a legal-looking document. It was rolled into a tube and secured by a red ribbon. ‘This proves that John Lance is now the rightful owner of this property,’ he said, and had to clear his throat. ‘We intend to take possession here and now.’

  ‘Can I see that?’ Arkansas asked, and stepped closer to the sheriff.

  ‘Sure.’ The sheriff dismounted and then held the document out.

  Arkansas reached out and took the document from him, opened it and then it was his turn to shake his head. ‘I don’t believe this is genuine,’ he said, though he had to admit to himself that Will’s signature looked real enough. Whoever had done the forging they were certainly a master of their craft. Maybe that was why Will’s place had been ransacked the night he had been shot, he thought. Perhaps Lance’s men were looking for an example of Will’s signature someone could copy. It was a damn fine forgery in any case.

  He walked over to the window and held the document against the glass. ‘You recognize this?’

  ‘Ain’t never seen it before,’ Will answered.

  Arkansas walked back over and stood before the open door. He smiled at Rycot who was standing there, pointing his rifle directly at John Lance, but his legs were shaking slightly.

  ‘As I say,’ Arkansas said, ‘I don’t believe this is genuine.’

  ‘It’s genuine,’ Lance said, with much venom in his voice. With his private army spread out around him he seemed to possess a confidence that had not been evident earlier. He looked at his men each side of him with an exaggerated turn of the head, as if reminding Arkansas that they were there and that he was hopelessly outnumbered. ‘Don’t make us use our guns,’ he warned.

  ‘We don’t want trouble,’ the sheriff said, quickly, hoping to diffuse the situation. ‘But I must tell you it is my legal duty to see that McCord is evicted and that the law is served.’

  ‘I believe I’ll keep these documents,’ Arkansas said, and rolled them back up, secured the ribbon and placed them into his pocket. ‘Now I’ve got papers also.’

  ‘What is this?’ John Lance asked. He bit his lip in anticipation and stared at the man called Arkansas Smith.

  Arkansas pulled one of the telegrams he had received only days ago from his jacket and coolly walked over and handed it to the sheriff.

  Arkansas stood there, hands hanging at his sides with thumbs facing inwards towards his guns while he waited for the reaction he knew would surely come.

  There was confusion. Lance looked across at the sheriff and then leaned over in the saddle and snatched the papers from him. He read through them several times before speaking.

  ‘What manner of joke is this?’ he asked, and then read the papers yet again as if willing the words contained there to disappear. His face went a vivid crimson and his eyes narrowed to slits.

  ‘Now, Sheriff,’ Arkansas said, ‘I require the arrest of John Lance. And when the justice arrives he can make a ruling on this so-called sale. I’ll be bringing charges of murder, forgery and whatever else I can dig up on Mister John Lance.’

  ‘Are you going to stand for this?’ Lance said, waving the telegram about. He glared at the sheriff. ‘These papers don’t mean anything. How do we know they are genuine?’ He crumpled the telegram and threw it onto the ground next to Arkansas who bent and smoothed them out before returning them to his pocket.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Sheriff Hackman said, looking at John Lance ‘There’s nothing I can do here. That telegram’s from the Territorial Governor’s office and the orders came there from Washington. I’m being ordered to take orders from this man.’ He pointed to Arkansas who smirked at Lance.

  ‘What is this?’ Lance screamed. ‘McCord sold this place and now he’s trying to back down on the deal.’

  ‘This is bigger than you and me,’ Hackman said, and gave Lance a timid look.

  Lance’s men grew visibly nervous and it seemed that any moment now they would start shooting. They didn’t completely understand what was happening here. What had been written on the paper Arkansas had shown the sheriff? They held back, but each and every one of them was like a coiled spring.

  Will opened th
e window and looked Lance directly in the eye before speaking. ‘I wouldn’t sell anything to you,’ he said. ‘Now get off my land.’ He pushed the eye of his rifle out of the window and squared it directly at the rancher.

  ‘Sheriff’ – Lance turned to the sheriff – ‘you can’t side with these men. I demand you do your duty, or I’ll do it for you.’

  ‘I ain’t siding with anyone,’ Hackman said. ‘I got no choice here. Those orders, John. They come from the Presidential office. Do you understand that?’

  ‘You work for me,’ Lance screamed, which made the sheriff wince.

  ‘John,’ the sheriff said. He knew Lance’s temper would get the better of him and there was no telling where this would go now. It was all an unknown to him and he wasn’t qualified to guess. He was just a small town sheriff and those papers he had seen had come from the top. There was no higher.

  The wise thing to do would be to go along with this Arkansas Smith and see what developed, try and figure a way out later when they’d all had a chance to better consider their options. Only that wasn’t going to happen. John Lance was too used to getting his own way and would stir up a whirlwind when things didn’t go in a fashion that suited him.

  ‘You work for me!’ Lance repeated, yelling wildly. His eyes burnt with feral intent and he pulled his lips back in a snarl over gritted teeth.

  ‘The sheriff is supposed to work for the law,’ Arkansas said. ‘If he can’t do that he ain’t worth a damn and I’ll have his badge here and now.’

  ‘Look, John’ – the sheriff stared Lance directly in the eyes – ‘we’ll do what this fella says for now. We can prove your innocence of all this when the judge arrives. For now we’ve got no choice but to comply with this man’s orders. You read the telegram.’

  ‘Get off your horse,’ Arkansas ordered, ‘and relinquish your firearms. I’m arresting you as is my right under the special powers invested in me by the President.’ Behind him he heard Rycot let out a small chuckle. The events seemed to have brightened up his day no end.