Cotton's Devil (9781101618523) (29 page)

“More'n you know, Jack, more'n you know. Don't forget, he tried to kill Emily, too. You don't figure I plan to let him get away with that, do you?”

Jack rubbed his chin. “Naw, I reckon not. So why're we headed west?”

“Think, Jack,
think
! You already know the answer to that.”

“What the hell are you talkin' about?”

“You said it yourself. If we bring James Lee Hogg back to town, he'll have to be locked up for trial. With that no-good Judge Sanborn callin' the shots, Hogg will undoubtedly be found not guilty and set free. I can't risk that. Besides, I know this wasn't what Sanborn had planned for me. I have to play it out.”

“What if Hogg suddenly shows up in town and calls you out?”

“I'm countin' on it.”

“Then what in tarnation are we doin' followin' a nonexistent trail to catch a killer who ain't gonna be at the end of it?”

“Come on, pardner. Use that thing sittin' on top of your shoulders. James Lee needs time and probably the cover of darkness to sneak back. That's just what we're givin' him…time.”

“So this was a wild-goose chase all along?”

“Yup.”

“Hmm, best you keep a distance from these fellas when they find out they been duped.”

“You're goin' to take care of that.”

“Me? How? And why me?”

“Simple. You tell Melody we were unsuccessful at finding Hogg, but that we'll be trying again tomorrow. Tell her she needs to keep these boys interested in keepin' up the search after some sleep. Tell her she can play an important part in seeking retribution for Lucy by plying these gents with lots of whiskey.

Jack grinned. He nodded and wheeled his horse around. “You're a devious man, Cotton Burke, a very devious man. But I like the plan.”

K
nowing his time was limited to set things in place for his plan to work, Arthur Sanborn made a beeline for Melody's Golden Palace of Pleasure. His footsteps along the boardwalk were accentuated by the distinct tapping of his cane with every other step. When he came to a woman's millinery shop displaying a long cotton dress with blue cornflowers, he stopped to gaze in the window, using the glass to see if he was being watched. He didn't think it was particularly strange to see a man peeking inside a woman's shop, but a couple of ladies passing by apparently did, as they clucked their tongues at him. He gave them a steely-eyed glare and moved on, tapping his cane ever more urgently. He started across the dusty street, stopping suddenly as a heavily loaded wagon from the lumber mill nearly clipped him.

“Hey, old man, why don't you look where the hell you're goin'?” shouted the driver. He whipped the mules with the reins to keep them moving.

Shaken by the near miss, Sanborn hollered back and
shook the cane at the man. He didn't really see why he should be careful about crossing a street. After all, he was a judge, and judges have the power over the life and death of any who would break the law. And, of course, that was his mission: taking the life of one Sheriff Cotton Burke in retribution for the loss of his only son. The fact that Lucky Bill Sanborn deserved to die didn't deter Arthur Sanborn from his own deadly intent. He wasn't even mildly interested in hearing about the whys and wherefores of Bill's demise; he was only interested in the judgment he fully intended to mete out. He stepped up onto the boardwalk in front of Melody's saloon a bit nervously, this being his first visit to such a disreputable establishment.

Stepping inside, he looked around the smoky, dimly lit room with tables full of men gambling or just chatting. Several men were leaning on the long bar, sipping glasses of whiskey, and two or three girls wandered the room wearing barely more than undergarments, at least that was Sanborn's impression. As his eyes adjusted to the poor lighting, he thought he spotted the proprietor, Melody Wakefield, standing at the top of a curving staircase, like a queen glaring down on her subjects. He went over to the bartender, ordered a brandy, and began the process of coming up with a way to approach a whore and engage her in a conversation that would lead to another piece of his plan being put firmly in place.

A disagreement over a poker game at one of the tables almost erupted in gunfire, but Melody swooped down and broke it up with a stern warning to a couple of cowboys before things got out of hand. Her method of dealing with disagreements gave Sanborn an idea. When she walked over to the bar, he approached her.

“Ma'am, I wonder if I could take a moment of your time.”

“Sorry, mister, I'm not available, but there are two other girls here that I'm sure would find you charming. We don't get many men, uh,
your age
looking for a poke.” She gave him a smile then started to turn her back on him.

“Uh, no, ma'am, I feel you've misunderstood. I'm not
seeking to become a customer; I'm merely wishing to talk to you for a minute. Won't take long. Could be important.”

Melody gave him a quick appraisal, then shrugged. “I reckon that wouldn't hurt. Let's sit over here and you can buy me a brandy.” She led him to a table near the stairs where she could see everything that went on around the whole floor. She motioned for Arlo, the bartender, to bring her a bottle of brandy and a couple of glasses.

Sanborn pulled her chair out and pushed it back in as she sat. He then took a seat himself.

“First of all, I have to commend you for the masterful manner in which you handled those two ruffians. Quite a lesson for your other patrons to see your authority over them in action.”

“That's kind of you, but I have a feeling you didn't just want to talk to me about this little incident.”

“You are most perceptive, ma'am. I am Judge Arthur Sanborn, the new circuit judge for the county. As a judge, I'm sure you can imagine the information I find myself privy to.”

“A judge, huh?”

“At your service.”

“This, uh, information, does it come at a price? And why would it interest me?”

“Why, dear lady, there could be no charge for coming to the aid of a beautiful woman. I do this to prevent any unnecessary bloodshed.”

“Bloodshed? What do you mean? Whose blood could be shed?”

“I believe you are quite attached to a certain Memphis Jack Stump. Am I correct or have I been misinformed?”

“Jack and me, well, we're, uh, close, yes. But what does Jack have to do with this?”

“My dear lady, he's the one we're talking about.”

“Jack? Are you saying he's in danger?”

“Imminent, I'm afraid.”

“I don't understand. How?”

“Is he not closely associated with your sheriff, Cotton Burke?”

“That scalawag? Yes, yes, I suppose you could say that. But I can tell you he's not
my
sheriff. What does that have to do with what you're intent on telling me? He wouldn't hurt Jack.”

“No, not him personally, but his association with your friend could, indeed, bring great harm.”

“How?”

“I'm privy to information that suggests there is a gang of desperadoes on their way here at this very minute. Their intention is to engage your sheriff in a gun battle with the end result being his death.”

“That means little to me. If I could get away with it, I'd probably shoot him myself.”

“Ahh, yes, I believe I recall hearing about the two of you having a bit of a squabble some time back. But, that notwithstanding, this gang would have reason to include in their shooting spree anyone who might be siding with the sheriff. As a way of guaranteeing a successful escape, of course.”

“So, if Jack were on the street alongside Cotton, he, too, would be a target?”

“That is correct. Now, me being a judge, of course I'd have to demand a trial for any such lawbreaking, but, with the sheriff dead, and possibly his deputy, who would be left to arrest them? We need to ensure the safety of your Memphis Jack. Do you understand?”

“I most certainly do. I thank you for your concern. You can rest assured I'll do all I can to keep my precious Jack safe.” Melody got up from the table, shot Sanborn a smile, and turned to scurry upstairs to her room to mull over her approach to this new dilemma.

J
ames Lee, James Lee Hogg, you in there?” shouted Lazarus Bellwood.

There was a rustling of leaves as James Lee burst from a thicket of brush like a bull moose. “Keep it down, you damned fool,” he said. “You want someone to hear you and come roarin' in here guns a-blazin' and do us both in?”

“Course not. But the judge sent me to find you and bring you back. I been lookin' high and low for your worthless hide for nigh on to four hours in this stinkin' woods. Maybe you ain't noticed, but there's somethin' dead in here.”

“Yeah, well, you found me. So what's the judge want me back for?”

“His plan, you idjit. Did you forget?”

“He cain't still be figurin' on me ridin' back into town to confront that damned sheriff. I'll get shot down the moment I'm seen on the streets. Hell, that gal probably poked every man in the county at some time or another. They'll all be gunnin' for me. How's she doin'?”

“She died from the beatin' you gave her.”

“Damn! I hadn't counted on that. I didn't mean to kill her.”

“Sanborn knows that. He was pretty pissed off at first, but he's got a new plan that'll work sure as bees make honey.”

James Lee wrinkled his mouth and raised one eyebrow. He crossed his arms as if to say, “I dare you to tell me I'll be safe as a baby in its momma's arms.”

“Better'n that,” Lazarus said.

“I'm listenin',” Hogg said.

“Here's how it goes—”

“Uh, pardon the disruption, Lazarus, but did you happen to bring along anything to eat?”

Lazarus sighed and walked over to his horse. He reached into a saddlebag and pulled out some biscuits wrapped in cloth. He handed them to James Lee, who tore into them like a vulture on carrion.

“Mokay, go 'head wif da plan,” James Lee said with his mouth stuffed full of the doughy biscuits.

Lazarus watched James Lee's disgusting eating habits with considerable disdain. At least
he'd
been brought up by a mother who taught him not to stuff your whole meal in your mouth at once. Obviously, James Lee Hogg had not been blessed with the same good fortune.

“Sanborn says I'm to sneak you back into town late tonight. We'll slip up the back stairs to the hotel and you can go to my room to hide out. No one will ever suspect you'd be brazen enough to saunter back into a town that's brimmin' with cowboys that'd like nothing better than to castrate you before hangin' you up to either choke or bleed to death, whichever came first.”

“Uhgm,” James Lee grunted, struggling to swallow that which he'd turned into a mass akin to wallpaper paste.

“Then, in two days, at the hour of Sanborn's choosing, you'll walk out onto the street and call out the sheriff. You'll be hollerin' somethin' like ‘the sheriff is a murderer, a wanted man,' and then you'll say you've been sent to haul his sorry ass off to jail. Or shoot him down like a rabid dog if he don't come along peaceful-like.”

“'N jus' where'll you be? Sittin' in the shade watchin' the fireworks?”

“You watch what you say to me. I'm likely the only person keepin' you alive. I'll be in Sanborn's room, behind his curtain with my Sharps. There ain't a chance in the world that the sheriff can resist the opportunity to face down the man who has accosted his filly not once but twice. With you already set for the confrontation, he'll be forced to come to you. He'll walk right into my sights. At the split second the sheriff goes for his gun, I shoot him through the heart. You'll take your shot a split second after I hit him, so naturally you'll miss. No one will even question whether you killed Cotton Burke. You'll get the credit all over the territory. Probably get quite a reputation for your feat of bravery.”