TW12 The Six-Gun Solution NEW (16 page)

"Seems to me like their bodies were never found, either." Wyatt said. "I think you must have got your information wrong, mister, or someone was feedin' you a story. I'm not aware of any men by those names bein' murdered."

Lucas stared at hint, completely taken aback. "Ben Summers, Josh Billings and Joe McEnery? Those names mean nothing to you?"

Wyatt shook his head. "Never heard of 'em. Where’d you get this story?"

Lucas shook his head. "Why... I... I'm not exactly sure. I think I must have heard it in the bar over at the hotel. But I suppose I might have got it wrong somehow. You're sure those names mean nothing to you? Three men found dead in very mysterious circumstances?"

Wyatt smiled. "Sounds to me like somebody was pullin' your leg. You're liable to get some of that around here. City slicker like yourself, out to write about the wild frontier, folks are liable to string you along a bit. You'll have to watch out for that sort of thing."

Lucas was thoroughly confused. Why would Earp deny any knowledge of the killings? It made no sense, unless he wasn't anxious to have some reporter from back east writing about a case he couldn't solve. But then, surely he'd hear about it from others in town. Maybe it was just Earp's way of not wanting to talk about it.

“Well . . . I guess maybe I might've got taken in a bit," said Lucas. "I did tell people I was looking for interesting stories about life on the frontier. Somebody might have just made that one up to get a few drinks out of me."

"You offer drinks for stories, mister, you'll get more than your share,” said Earp with a smile, "and most of 'em right fanciful, to boot. But I don't guess that really makes much difference, does it? You writers like to spice things up a bit. I don't suppose it does much harm."

"No, I . . . I don't suppose it does," Lucas replied, still mystified by Earp's curious denial. "But I was wondering.--"

"The stage's been robbed!" someone shouted.

Wyatt was on his feet in an instant, rushing over to the man.

"What happened?" he demanded.

"They shot Bud Philpot! Bob got the stage back, but Bud's dead and one of the passengers was shot. They didn't get the silver shipment."

"I'm goin' to need a posse!" Wyatt called out, quickly taking charge. "Lem, you run down and get Virg and Morg. Where's Bob at?”

“He's outside with the stage," said the man who came running in with the news. "He got banged up some, but he's okay."

"You need some help, Marshal?" Neilson asked.

"I can use a good gun, Kid. Come along."

"Marshal Earp!" said Lucas. "I'd like to ride along, if I may.”

"A posse's no place for a greenhorn, mister. No offense."

"I can ride," said Lucas. "I know how to shoot, too. I used to be a soldier. I'd like to help."

"All right, if you feel you're up to it, we'll get you a rifle. Come along."

Still no sign of recognition from Neilson, thought Lucas. All right, he'd wait and see. They went out into the street and hurried a short distance down the block, to where the stage had pulled up. Sheriff Behan was already there, along with several other men. A crowd was gathering rapidly. Wyatt pushed his way through to the man at the center of attention, the shotgun guard, Bob Paul . He was covered with dust and his clothing was disheveled.

"What happened, Bob?" asked Wyatt.

"I was just askin' him that," said Sheriff Behan, irritably. Lucas noticed a look of dislike between the two men.

"They got us a short way out of Contention." Paul said. "Bud was havin' stomach cramps, so I told him I could drive for a bit till they eased up. We'd pulled over and traded places, but we hadn't gotten more than a few miles north on the road to Benson when they hit us. We'd just gone across a dry wash and started up a hill when a masked man stepped out into the road and shouted. 'Hold!' Next thing we knew, there was a hunch of 'em around us, three, four, maybe more. I couldn't tell, it all happened so fast. Bud went for the scattergun and they shot him. The horses bolted and then they were all shootin". I lost the reins and had to climb down to retrieve ‘em. Almost fell off into the road.”

“They get the silver?" Behan asked.

"No, they didn't get it. They didn't have a chance, the horses ran off soon as they shot Bud. One of the passengers took a bullet, too. Name of Peter Roerig, was sittin' in the dickey seat up back. He looked bad. They took him to the doc's, but I don't think he's goin' to make it."

Virgil and Morgan had arrived. "We're gettin' up a posse." Wyatt told them.

"Outlaws just robbed the stage and killed Bud Philpot. If we get a move on, we might catch 'em."

"Wait a minute. Wyatt," Behan said. "I'm the sheriff. I'm takin' this posse."

"Fine, then, take it. But we're comin' along."

Behan looked as if he was going to make an argument of it, then changed his mind.

"I'm goin' too, Wyatt," Paul said.

"You sure you're up to it?"

“They got Bud." Paul said, with a hard edge to his voice. “I'm goin’."

Within moments, the posse was organized and mounted, galloping out of town on the road to Contention, about eight miles northwest of Tombstone. Lucas found himself riding next to Neilson, but aside from a curious look, nothing else passed between them. Lucas wondered if Neilson was being watched by someone in the posse and was aware of it. He was playing it very cool. Until he had a chance to speak with him alone, he'd have to follow his lead. Neilson could have discovered more about what was going on here since the time he'd last made his report.

It was late by the time they reached the place where the robbery had occurred and the darkness slowed them down, making the trail hard to follow. They were still tracking the outlaws when daylight came.

"Looks like the trail's leading to Len Redfield's place," said Virgil.

"Somehow I'm not surprised," said Wyatt, dryly. "Len's real friendly with Ike Clanton."

The trail, as Virgil had predicted, led straight to the ranch, where they discovered several horses in the corral that had been ridden very hard.

"Looks like they might have traded horses here," said Wyatt, as Lucas rode up beside him.

Suddenly a shot cracked out.

"Hold it right there, mister!'

It was Neilson who had yelled and fired. Lucas frowned.

That was getting a little too involved. The man who had taken off running from the corral, heading toward the house, stopped in his tracks and raised his hands in the air.

"Don't shoot!" he shouted.

"It's Luther King," said Behan, riding over to him. Wyatt and Bob Paul followed.

"Virg, you and the others go and check the house," he said. "And watch yourselves."

"I didn't do nothin'!" King protested. "What the hell did you shoot at me for?"

"Why'd you run, Luther?" Wyatt asked, looking down at the man from his horse.

"How was I supposed to know who you were?" protested King. "I thought you might be outlaws!"

"Did you, now?"

"Well, how was he to know?" asked Behan.

Wyatt gave him a hard look. "Why don't you go and check the house. Johnny? See if your friend Len can tell us anything."

Behan hesitated, again seeming as if he was about to argue, then once more thought better of it. He wheeled his horse and trotted toward the house.

"Been out ridin' tonight, Luther?" Wyatt asked.

"I've been here all night." King replied, nervously. "I didn't have anything to do with it."

"You didn't have anything to do with what, Luther?" Wyatt asked, calmly.

"With . . with whatever it is you boys are out for."

"Somebody tried to rob the Kinnear stage tonight, Luther." Wyatt said. "Bud Philpot was shot and killed. I don't suppose you'd know anything about that?"

"How the hell would I know? Like I told you. I was here all night."

"Were you? What were you doin' out by the corral?"

“I came out to milk the cows.”

"You always strap your guns on when you go milkin', Luther?"

King hesitated. "Man can't be too careful these days. Might have been Indians around."

Morgan Earp snorted with disgust, "Indians, my foot! You were one of them, Luther, weren't you?"

"I told you. I was here all night! I didn't have nothin' to do with it! Ask Len!"

"How do we know that Len wasn't involved!" asked Wyatt. "You've got some horses over there in that corral look like they were ridden pretty hard. You got anything to say about that?"

"Yeah, well . . . there was some riders came by not long ago. Wanted to trade some horses."

"Who were they?"

"I .. I don't know. I didn't know who they were. I never saw 'em before."

"You're lyin', Luther.”

"I ain't lyin'! I told you, I don't know anything about any robbery!"

"It's more than robbery, Luther." Wyatt said. "It's murder. Bud Philpot's dead."

"Passenger got wounded, too," said Virgil. "Looks like he might not make it. That'll be two murders."

"Three. Virg," Wyatt said. "Don't forget Katie." Virgil frowned.

"Katie?"

"Isn't that right. Bob?" Wyatt said, turning to Bob. "Didn't you tell me Katie Elder took a bullet? Killed her on the spot, you said. Doc just about went crazy when he heard about it."

Bob Paul picked up on it, "Yeah. that's right. I never saw Doc like that before. It was somethin' terrible."

"Doc Holliday's woman was on that stage?" asked King, his eyes wide.

"She was headin' out to Benson, to take the train and visit some relatives for a spell," said Wyatt. "When Doc found out she'd been shot, he swore up and down he'd get every last one of those outlaws if it took him the rest of his life."

"Oh, my God," said King.

"If Doc gets in his head you were involved, Luther. I don't know that there's anything in this world that will stop him," Wyatt said. You know how he is."

"Listen, Marshal, you gotta promise me you'll tell Doc I had nothin. to do with it, I swear!" said King, in a panic.

"Well, now, I don't know that for a fact. Luther."

"Marshal, please! You gotta believe me! Look, you gotta tell Holliday it wasn't me! I didn't do any of the shootin'. God's my judge! I only
held the horses! You gotta tell Doc, I only held the horses!
I never even fired my gun! I wasn't even there! I was just down the road a piece! I didn't know there was goin' to be any killin'! I swear. I didn't! Please. Marshal, you gotta
tell
him!"

"Well now. I might, Luther, if you were to tell us who the rest of 'em were."

"It was Head,
Leonard and Crane!" said King. "I don't know which one of 'em shot Philpot! I heard the shootin', but I didn't see it! Like I said, I only held the horses!"

"Head, Leonard and Crane, eh?" said Wyatt. "Where are they now'?"

"They rode out a while back. I ain't sure where they went and that's the truth, I swear it! The whole thing went wrong! But you gotta tell Holliday I didn't do any shootin'. Marshal. You gotta tell him!"

Wyatt glanced at Bob Paul and grinned. "I always knew that bad temper of Doe's would come in handy one day."

Sheriff Johnny Behan and his deputy, Billy Breakenridge, took charge of the prisoner and rode back to town with him while the rest of the posse continued on the outlaws' trail. Lucas took the opportunity to ride back with the prisoner, expecting Neilson to volunteer to do the same, only the Montana Kid continued on with the posse. Not so much as a meaningful look had passed between them. Andre was waiting at the hotel when he returned.

"Did you learn anything?" she asked. "Did you have a chance to talk to Scott?"

"No, to both questions," Lucas said, easing himself onto the bed. It had been a while since he had been on horseback and
he was saddle-sore. "Neilson acted as if he didn't even know me. The only explanation I can think of is that someone in the posse was watching him and he was aware of it. He's still out there with them. I guess he thought that if he came
back with me, it might tip off whoever's watching him."

"Any clue who it might be?"

Lucas shook his head. "It could've been any of them." He frowned. "I don't know. There's something bothering me."

"You, too?"

"You pick up on something?"

"You first."

"Actually, it's a couple of things, but I'm not sure if it means anything. For one thing, there's Masterson's leaving town to go back to Dodge City. According to our historical records, he shouldn't have done that until
after
the stage robbery. He should have been on that posse. But then, our records have been wrong before. Maybe that's all it is. The other thing is that Wyatt Earp claimed to know absolutely nothing about the deaths of those Observers. Said he didn't even know any men named Summers. Billings and McEnery. He told me that someone must have been pulling my leg and making up a story for my benefit. It's possible he just didn't want to talk about it and denied the whole thing because he didn't want to discuss a crime he couldn't solve. I can't think of any other explanation. but why would he want to lie about it? We could easily corroborate that story with anyone in town."

"You want to bet?" she said.

He glanced at her with a frown. "What do you mean?"

"I spent the evening last night visiting some of the stores and meeting some of the local women," Andre said "I even managed to meet Wyatt's girl, Josie Marcus, and have dinner with her. And nobody would admit to knowing anything about those three Observers. Who they were, how they died, nothing. They all wanted to know where I came up with such a story. It was news to all of them."

Lucas simply stared at her. "What the hell is going on here?"

"I don't know," said Andre, "but it's as if somebody told the whole town not to talk about it."

"Wait a minute," Lucas said. "That barman downstairs, what's his name, Mohan, he talked about it, remember?"

"Good luck getting him to admit it," Andre said. "I spoke to him briefly after dinner. He looked blank when I brought it up. Said I must have gotten mixed up with a story about something that happened somewhere else. Denied ever telling us anything about it and looked at me like I was crazy."