Denver Draw (18 page)

Next time it was Butler who raised his hand to halt their progress. They had only ridden about another hour when he smelled it.

“What is it?” Bat asked.

“Coffee.”

Bat sat still in his saddle and waited for it to come to him.

“I’ve got it,” he said. “You got a good nose. Smells like it’s comin’ from dead ahead. Let’s go—but slowly.”

“Bat, I’ve got a question.”

“Go ahead.”

“Why would you come all this way, ride a horse into the ground, risk your life and your badge, for a man you don’t even like?”

“I thought we talked about this once before,” he said. “Wyatt Earp sees somethin’ worthwhile in Doc Holliday. Something even his own brothers never saw. That’s good enough for me. Fact of the matter is, you see somethin’ in ol’ Doc, too, don’t you?”

“I don’t know that I see something in him,” Butler said. “I mean, not anything good or noble or anything like that. I just know I like him.”

“Well,” Bat said, “I guess that ought to be good enough for me, too.”

“Why would you care what I think?”

“Well,” Bat said, “you stood with my brother in Dodge, and with me in Trinidad. I reckon if I can trust you with my life and my brother’s life, I can trust your instincts about a man, too.”

“I appreciate that, Bat.”

“Hold up,” Bat said, reining in his horse. “I smell it strong now.”

“So do I.”

“Let’s leave the horses here and go the rest of the way on foot.”

They dismounted, took their rifles from their saddles. Bat took the lead, Butler following closely, trying to be as quiet as he could. He was nowhere near as comfortable out here as he was at a poker table. Evidence of that fact was that he tripped twice and once sent a rock skittering along.

“You wanna make a little more noise?” Bat asked at that point.

“Sorry.”

“Look,” Bat said, taking a moment for another lesson, “just lift your feet, okay?”

“Got you.”

“Shouldn’t we set a watch?” Benson asked Perry Mallon.

“What for?” Mallon asked. “We’re waitin’ for two lawmen.”

“What if somebody else comes along?” the other man asked.

Mallon looked at him.

“What’s your name?”

“Daly.”

“How long have you been wearin’ a badge, Daly?”

“Two months.”

“Then don’t question me about what we should be doin’,” Mallon said. “Or you, either, Benson. Just keep the fire goin’ and the coffee comin’. We’ll be headin’ back to Denver soon enough.”

“You know, they’re right,” Doc Holliday said.

“Why do you even have an opinion?” Mallon asked. “Just shut up.”

“I’m just sayin’, it makes sense to set up some kind of watch. You never know who might come along—”

“You think Masterson and that gambler are gonna come after you when they hear you’re gone?”

“They might.”

“I happen to know that Bat Masterson doesn’t even like you.”

“That makes us even,” Doc said. “I don’t like Bat much, either.”

“Then why would he bother?” Mallon asked.

Doc didn’t bother asking Mallon why Doc would have come all the way to Denver from Trinidad and then not go the few extra miles to track them here.

“And that gambler,” Mallon said. “Forget about him. The chief is sendin’ those two Arizona sheriffs out here. Once you’re in their hands—”

“I heard somethin’,” Benson said suddenly. He was hunkered down by the fire, across from Mallon, and now he stood up, his hand hovering near his gun.

“I didn’t hear nothin’,” Mallon said.

“Me neither,” Daly added.

“I heard it,” Doc said. “Sounded like somebody kicked a rock.”

“Yeah, you’d like me to think somebody’s out there,”
Mallon said. “It would mean somebody gave a shit about you.”

“I tell ya, I heard something’,” Benson insisted.

“Then go check it out,” Mallon said. “It ain’t even dark yet, but try not to get lost.”

Benson stared at Mallon for a moment.

“Well, go ahead,” the other man said. “You opened your big mouth, now go check it out.”

Benson looked at Daly, who looked away.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll check it out.”

Mallon poured himself another cup of coffee and settled down onto a rock. They hadn’t even unsaddled their horses because he’d said the two Arizona lawmen would come along any time. Daly tossed some more wood onto the fire and eyed Doc suspiciously. This was the famous Doc Holliday. He was going to have to try something to escape, wasn’t he? Daly had been nervously awaiting the attempt since they left Denver.

“Benson’s hearin’ things,” Mallon said. “He’s jumpy. You jumpy, Daly?”

“No, sir.”

“Then stop lookin’ at Holliday like he’s a snake that’s gonna bite ya.”

“Yes, sir.”

Mallon was mad that they’d sent him out here with two inexperienced men. Maybe he should just kill them and Holliday and save everybody a lot of trouble.

Butler pressed his gun against the side of Benson’s neck and said, “Not a sound.”

Benson froze.

Bat had circled around to come at the camp from the other direction. Once they spotted the fire his plan was to move in fast, because there was no darkness to cover them.

Butler took the man’s gun.

“I’m a lawman,” Benson said nervously.

“I know.”

“Y-you’re under arrest.”

Butler pressed the barrel of his gun harder against the man’s neck and said, “Not today, I’m afraid.”

“I’m not alone.”

“Stop talking,” Butler said. “I know who you are, and I know who you’re with.”

“A-are you one of the Arizona lawmen?”

“If I was I wouldn’t have a gun on you, would I?” Butler asked. “Now I mean it. Shut up!”

“I just want to—”

Butler struck the man on the head with the butt of
his own gun, which he was still holding in his left hand. Benson went down in an unconscious heap.

“I told you to shut up.”

Butler tucked Benson’s gun into his belt and headed for the camp with his gun still in his hand.

“Where the hell is Benson?” Daly asked.

“I warned him not to get lost,” Mallon said. “It’ll be dark soon.”

“You said those other lawmen would be here before dark.”

Mallon made an annoyed face.

“They probably got lost, too.”

There was a noise, like a boot scraping, and both men got to their feet.

“Now I heard that,” Daly said, drawing his gun.

“So did I.”

“So did I,” Doc said. “I wonder if it was—”

“Shut up!” Mallon said, pointing his gun at Doc. He looked around. The ground around them was far from flat, with trees and shrubbery and boulders. Plenty of places for someone to take cover.

“Who’s out there?” Mallon shouted.

No answer.

“Answer me. Who’s out there? Benson?”

Mallon couldn’t quite figure out where to point his gun, so in the end he pointed it at Doc.

Bat Masterson, from his vantage point behind a boulder, thought he recognized one of the lawmen in the camp. It took a moment, but then the name came to him. Mallon.

“Drop the gun, Mallon!” he shouted.

Butler was approaching the camp when he heard Bat’s voice call out. Running into Benson had delayed him. He rushed forward, took cover behind a stand of brush, and looked down at the camp. Two lawmen and Doc, who was sitting on the ground, hands cuffed behind him. One of the men was pointing a gun at him.

What happened next was up to Bat.

“Come on, Mallon,” Bat called out. “We don’t want to shoot lawmen. I’m wearin’ a badge, too.”

“You’re out of your jurisdiction, Masterson,” Mallon shouted. “You drop your gun. You got no authority here.”

“Well,” Bat replied, “we’re not in Denver, so neither do you. That puts us at a standoff.”

“No standoff,” Mallon said. “I got your friend Holliday here. I’ll put a bullet in his head if you don’t drop your guns and come out with your hands up.”

“Go ahead,” Bat said, “put him out of his misery. If you kill him I’ll be done here. I’ll be on my way. And he won’t be coughing up any more of his lungs.”

Mallon cocked the hammer back on his gun.

Butler believed Bat. After all, he was only doing this for Wyatt Earp. If Doc was dead, there’d be no reason for Bat to stick around any longer. Whether Mallon and the other man dropped their guns, or killed Doc Holliday, this would be over for Bat.

He pointed his gun at the other man, assuming Bat would take Mallon, and waited.

Bat could see the tension in Mallon’s body. If he tried anything fancy—like shooting the man before he could shoot Doc—Mallon’s finger would probably jerk the trigger even as he was dying. He had to hope that Mallon believed him that he didn’t care if Doc lived or died.

“I tell you what, Mallon,” he shouted. “Kill Doc, I’ll kill you, and the rest of us will go home.”

That sounded good to Daly, who lowered his gun until it was pointing to the ground.

“You said you didn’t care if I killed him.”

“I don’t,” Bat said, “but I think I’ll kill you either way.”

“What? Why?”

“Because you made me ride all the way out here,” Bat said. “So come on, put a bullet in him, I’ll finish you and we can be on our way.”

“Wait, wait,” Mallon said, putting his left hand out in protest. “Lemme think, damn it!”

“What’s there to think about?” Daly asked. “Kill Holliday, already.”

“Oh, sure,” Mallon said, “then he kills me and you get to go home. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Aw hell—” Daly said. He raised his gun, pointed it at Doc and started to pull the trigger.

Three guns went off at once, and three bullets put Daly down on the ground.

Mallon gave his gun to Bat, then took the cuffs off Doc Holliday.

“Did you bring anything to eat?” he asked Bat and Butler.

“Didn’t think of it,” Butler said.

“Wait,” Doc said, “one of these fellas said he had some beef jerky.”

“That was me,” Benson said, still rubbing his head where Butler hit him. “In my saddlebags.”

“Thanks,” Doc said. He looked at Bat and Butler. “I don’t suppose you thought to bring some whiskey?”

“Just water,” Bat said.

Doc shook his head.

“You fellas are the worst rescuers ever.”

They stayed camped there overnight and the Arizona lawmen never showed up.

“I’d like to think they wouldn’t go along with kidnapping Doc and taking him back to Tombstone,” Bat said as they sat around the fire. “They’ll probably still be in Denver when we get back.”

Mallon and Benson were trussed up and set off to one side. The body of Daly had been wrapped in his own blanket.

“You mean we’ve got two lawmen who will stick to the letter of the law?” Doc asked. “What’s gonna happen next? Is money gonna rain from the sky?”

“Lucky for you this lawman don’t stick to the letter of the law,” Bat said.

“Amen to that, brother,” Doc said.

The next morning they handcuffed Mallon and Benson with their own cuffs, hands in front so they could ride. They then draped the dead man over his horse. Butler and Bat had both fired when Daly looked like he was going to kill Doc. What surprised them was that Mallon also fired at the man. Mallon had decided that Doc had to live so that Bat wouldn’t kill him, and when he saw that Daly was going to kill Bat, he just reacted. He dropped the gun immediately after, and shouted, “I surrender!”

Now he looked at Bat and Butler and said, “Come on, you’re not gonna make us ride back into Denver handcuffed, are you?”

“We sure are,” Bat said.

“Handcuffed is a lot better than dead,” Butler told them.

“He’s right about that,” Benson said, to which Mallon replied, “Oh, shut up.”

Doc, having consumed the beef jerky and half a canteen of water, mounted up as well.

“You okay to ride, Doc?” Butler asked.

“I’ll make it,” he said, “although I’m tired of feeling naked.”

Butler unwrapped Mallon’s gun belt from his saddle horn and handed it over to Doc, who strapped it on quickly.

“Jesus,” Bat said, “strap on a gun and you even look better.”

Doc looked at Bat and Butler. “Shall we go, gentlemen?”

District Attorney Daniel Trevor and Chief Arthur Coolidge were not happy with Deputy Sheriff Linton and Sheriff Paul of Arizona. The two lawmen refused to meet with Perry Mallon and the other officers to accept custody of Doc Holliday.

“That’s something that’s supposed to happen here,” Sheriff Paul said, “in your police station, not out on the trail somewhere.”

“You can’t just drag a man out of his cell in the middle of the night,” Deputy Linton said. “We got paperwork.”

“Well,” Chief Coolidge said, “we were just trying to…streamline the process.”

“Chief,” the Sheriff said, “you let us know when you have Doc Holliday back in a cell where he belongs. Then we’ll come with our warrant.”

“B-but…Bat Masterson has a warrant as well,” Coolidge said.

“Well, we’ll just have to see which warrant takes precedence,” Sheriff Paul said. “We’ll be seeing you, Chief.”

When the chief had given the word to Trevor he exploded.

“You what? You kidnapped Holliday from his cell in the middle of the night?”

“You told me to—”

“I did not tell you to commit a crime, Chief,” Trevor had said imperiously. “This office would never condone such a thing.”

Coolidge narrowed his eyes. This office, he thought, was not above throwing him to the wolves, was it?

“I’m not takin’ the fall for this, Trevor,” Coolidge said. “I know people—”

“Chief, chief,” Trevor said, lowering his voice. He knew the chief had contacts, and even though he thought his were better, there was no point in getting into a war. “Neither one of us has to take the fall for this. Who actually took Holliday from his cell?”

“Officer Mallon.”

“Isn’t he the man who first identified Holliday? And arrested him?”

“That’s right.”

Trevor thought a moment, then said, “I think we have a way out here.”