Nate Coffin's Revenge (5 page)

Managed to get to my feet on still-unsteady legs. Reached out and took her hand again. Drew her out of the bow so I could look her straight in the face. “All that really matters, so far as I’m concerned, is that you and the boy survived unscathed, and that men bent on robbery and murder have met their Maker.”

Released her fingers, and she immediately dipped into a small black bag that hung from one wrist. “My calling card, sir. Please present this at my door whenever you like. I would consider it an honor to, at the very least, provide the man who saved my child’s life with a home-cooked meal prepared at his convenience.” She curtsied again, turned, and, in a rush of wildly feminine sounds and smells, vanished through the jail’s barred doorway into Marshal Oakley’s office.

Held the card up to my nose and sniffed. “Ummm. Lilac.”

Boz leaned against the cell door, snorted, and shook his head. “My, my, my,” he said. “That’s one helluva woman there, Lucius. If’n I was you, I’d be on the lady’s doorstep this afternoon redeeming her card, for whatever it might be worth.”

“Sweet weepin’ Jesus, Boz. You should be ashamed of your randy old self for even thinking such low thoughts. Any man with one good eye and half a brain can see that Mrs. Dianna Savage is a well-bred lady of impeccable upbringing and flawless manners. Not one of those high-toned soiled doves from Hell’s Half Acre you favor. On top of all that, I owe the lady more than I could possibly ever repay.”

He held his hands up in mock distress as though to stop my verbal assault. “Didn’t mean no offense there, pard. Merely an observation from an appreciative onlooker. Take it as you will. Besides, pretty sure I’d rather have a soiled dove that can’t shoot quite as good as your lovely visitor.”

Few days after Mrs. Savage’s visit, Boz decided he’d go on ahead and escort Buster back to Fort Worth. While Caleb Oakley wasn’t a man to complain, he let it be known that the town’s fathers didn’t care much for having to keep ole Buster in food and lodging for a crime he’d committed in another jurisdiction.

By the time Boz finally came to his decision, we’d taken a room in Salt Valley’s only hotel, and my wounds had begun healing nicely. Must admit my equilibrium still suffered some at unexpected intervals, and hearing from my right ear proved problematic at times. Otherwise, I couldn’t complain.

Stood in the street and shook my good friend’s hand while he sat his horse. He said, “See to your health, Lucius. Come on along as you deem the time is right. Should anything go amiss, get word to me as quickly as possible and I’ll come back straightaway. Make it a point to stop at the telegraph office daily and check for any messages from you. Don’t hesitate to send a wire if you need help.”

“You do the same, Boz. Keep a weather eye on Buster. Man knows what’s waiting for him at the end of this ride. He’s just the kind of sneak who’d try something unexpected and deadly. Should any of the Coffin clan show their faces, you’ll be the first to hear the news.”

Guess I’d about recuperated by a week or so after Boz departed.While still a topic of daily gossip and conversation on the streets, and in the shops and saloons of Salt Valley, the whole dustup had finally begun to fade from memory. I attributed the rapid decline in the tale’s popular esteem to the fact that no locals had died or been wounded in the fight. Folks had begun to relax and get on with their lives, as most are wont to do.

But lo and behold, one afternoon, a well-known killer rode in, set the whole town’s teeth on edge, and got everyone tensed up again good and quicklike.

3

“I AIN’T NEVER KILT NO WOMAN.”

HAD ME A nicely shaded spot staked out on the veranda in front of the Cattleman’s Hotel when Burton Skaggs rode past and headed for the marshal’s office. Recognized him from a chance meeting over in San Augustine, a year or so before. Skaggs was widely known as a soulless thief and killer of the first water. Knew without doubt his unexpected appearance on the scene would cause citizens, right and left, to arm themselves and look for any reason to start shooting. Damned dangerous situation.

Early morning breeze drifted under the rough lodge’s portico and belied the coming of a scorching midday and unbearable heat. Watched from the comfort of a well-used chair as Salt Valley’s newest arrival slinked past, stopped, climbed off a run-out gelding, and tied the bay to a convenient hitch rail directly in front of Marshal Caleb Oakley’s office. Man and animal both appeared tired right down to the bone.

Any experienced observer would have harbored no doubt about the gunman’s calling. Tall, rangy, dark, and sinister, Burton Skaggs looked the deadly part of man killer from heel to crown. Three pistols decorated a double-row cartridge belt strapped high around his narrow waist. A short-barreled shotgun rested in bindings behind a California saddle, and a massive Winchester hunting rifle filled an upright, easy-to-access boot in front.

He disappeared through the dark entrance of the marshal’s office, but couldn’t have been inside Oakley’s headquarters more than a minute when both men gingerly stepped back onto the boardwalk. Watched as the old lawman pointed my direction, then led the gun for hire toward the hotel. Shifted my weight around to allow easy access to my hip pistol. Pulled my belly gun, cocked, and hid it beneath the week-old newspaper in my lap as well. Given recent events, along with an instant rash of chicken flesh up and down my back, felt fairly certain of another burst of gunfire in pretty short order.

Caleb motioned Skaggs to a stop on the step below my table and chair. “Mornin’, Lucius. I trust you passed a comfortable night in one of the hotel’s more restful beds?”

“That I did, Marshal Oakley, and thank you for asking. The Cattleman’s mattresses do tend toward a degree more ease on a battered body than the hay-filled pallets in your jail cells.”

“True, very true. This here’s Burton Skaggs, Lucius.” Caleb turned and made a halfhearted motion toward his companion. Gunman looked even more ferocious up close. Flat, slate-gray eyes bored into mine and gave the impression of absolute, bone-chilling fearlessness.

“I know who he is, Caleb. Our paths crossed briefly over in the Redlands a while back. Bet there’s probably not a handful of Rangers in Texas who aren’t familiar with the well-known, and deadly, Mr. Skaggs.”

“He’s just now arrived in town. Came by my office and asked if he could talk with you, first shot out of the box. That okay with you?”

Skaggs, thumbs hooked over his gun belt on either side of a heavy silver buckle, took a self-assured step away from Oakley’s sheltering figure and growled, “Mean no malice toward you, Ranger Dodge. Or toward any of the other residents of Salt Valley during my visit today. Come bearin’ news from the south I think will be of considerable interest, sir.”

“Now, exactly what news could you possibly have from the south that I’d care one whit about, Skaggs?”

He sneered at my slight. Removed his flat-brimmed Stetson and wiped the sweaty inside with a ragged bandanna. As he carefully, and ceremoniously, replaced the hat, the gunman said, “Damn nigh rode a good horse to death gettin’ here, Dodge. Least you could do is invite me to sit in the shade and talk a spell. Sure could use something to eat and a cool drink. Have my personal guarantee as how you absolutely do want to hear what I’ve got to say.”

We glared at each other for about five more seconds before I nodded him to one of the two empty chairs at my table. He pushed Caleb aside, clomped up the steps, and dropped into the proffered seat like a man exhausted.

“You want me to stay on for a spell, Lucius?” Caleb asked. Could readily tell he lacked anything like a reasonable comfort level with Skaggs’s ominous presence in his town.

Didn’t take long to consider the marshal’s concerned offer. Snatched a quick glance at the killer across the table from me. An almost imperceptible movement of his eyes sent an easily understandable message.

“No, Marshal. Do appreciate the offer, but think our guest and I’ll get along just fine. You might do me a further service, though. Would you go inside and order up a drover’s breakfast for Mr. Skaggs while we sit and talk? I’d be most grateful for the gesture.”

Could tell from his expression Oakley balked at what he considered a crude dismissal. He threw me a pointed look, pushed his pistol butt forward with one hand, and scratched at a stubble-covered chin with the other.

“All right,” he said. “Why don’t you fellers just relax and take in Salt Valley’s sweet-smelling morning air. I’ll have a plate of victuals and something cold to drink sent out for you, Skaggs.”

Soon as my new friend disappeared into the hotel’s lobby, the flint-eyed gunny leaned forward in his chair, and fixed me with a case-hardened gaze. “Came to tell you that exactly a week ago Nate Coffin put out word as how he’s willing to pay a handsome price for the head of a local woman what kilt his little brother.”

“Seem to recollect as how you got jerked up short about a year ago for some kind of deadly fracas over around San Augustine, Skaggs.”

If what I said fazed the man in the least, I couldn’t tell it. He dismissed the question with the wave of his hand and said, “Simple misunderstanding. Already taken care of. You can wire the sheriff over that way, if’n you don’t believe me.”

Twisted in my chair and brought the newspaper up so the muzzle of my pistol was pointed directly at a spot about two inches above the gunhand’s brightly polished belt buckle. Belly shot might not kill a man, but sure as hell hurts like the mortal dickens, and can render the strongest of them about as potent as a three-year-old suffering with the colic.

“Well, for now, I’ll just have to trust you on that one, won’t I? Any chance you’re here to collect on Coffin’s bounty?”

He flopped back into the chair, a look of total disgust on his face. Whipped off his hat and threw it into the only empty chair left at the table. Ran knotted fingers through sweaty hair and wagged his head back and forth. Threw a booted foot over one knee and played with the rowel on one of his spurs.

“Hell, no, Dodge. Came to warn you. Story ’bout what happened to Reuben Coffin’s all over Hell and most of Texas. Killers for hire of every stripe already know about Nate’s reward. Admit that I’ve done my share of sorry deeds over the years, but by God, every man has his limits. I ain’t never kilt no woman. Shot a boy or two early on durin’ the War of Yankee Aggression. But killin’ women, or offering money to have one kilt, is beyond the pale as far as I’m concerned.”

“How do you know all this, Skaggs? You certainly don’t look like no crystal-ball gazer to me.”

“Was down in Uvalde with Nate. Had my gun hired out to the man. When news of his little brother’s untimely demise came, he went crazier’n a loco’d calf. Never seen anything like it.”

“From what I’ve heard, Coffin’s never been the most stable of God’s creatures.”

“Well, you’re right about that ’un. Man’s wilder’n a seal-tight full of sour kraut when nothing out of the ordinary, or beyond his control, transpires. But, by God, you let something like a beloved brother’s brutal death occur and it’s Katie-bar-the-door. Ain’t nobody within two hundred miles of him safe right now.”

“He’s determined to kill someone then?”

“On my honor, sir, he’s prepared to kill everybody. Personally heard him say, ‘Blood will have blood. The murderin’ bitch responsible for Reuben’s foul and untimely demise has got to die. I’ll pay a thousand dollars in gold coin to any man who’ll bring her back to me alive and kickin’, or her head in a sack.’ ”

“Foul murder, you say? Reuben robbed Salt Valley’s bank. Tried to kill me in the process. Came right near to succeedin’. Man got shot dead in a futile attempt to escape his own lawless behavior.”

“Nate don’t see it that way.”

“Is that a natural fact? Big brother Nate must be an idiot, on top of everything else.”

“Coffin’s a lot of things, Dodge, but he ain’t no idiot.”

“You’ve an infamous reputation yourself, Skaggs. Why should I believe anything you’ve got to say on this particular subject? Could be you’re lying through your teeth. Came here today to kill me as well.”

A devilish smile spread across his rough-bearded, sunburned face. “All that could well be true. You’ll have to believe as you see fit, Ranger. Either way, Mrs. Savage, as I believe the lady in question is called, is a walkin’, talkin’ female corpse. And you’re right. That ain’t the whole of it.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means Nate Coffin put a price on you as well, Dodge. Figures you were the cause of the whole deadly incident by interfering with a legitimate, family-planned bank robbery, escape, and all. Says he’ll pay twice as much for you as the woman, being as how you carry a reputation as a deadly adversary in a fight. If I wanted to make enough to live on for the next five years, all I’d have to do is kill you right now, then take care of the woman in my own sweet time.”

Made certain my aim under the newspaper had him dead in his chair. “You might find such action a bit more difficult than you obviously now believe,” I shot back.

“That could well be true too. But as I’ve already said, ain’t come here with killin’ in mind—you or the now-famous, straight-shootin’ Mrs. Savage.”

“That a fact?”

“Most certainly is. Just out to do a thoughtful, kindhearted, Christian deed for once in my benighted life. Rode day and night in service of that notion. Besides, don’t matter what I do, or don’t do. Every desperate, broke pistolero in Texas is gonna be after what they deem easy money, and they’ll be arriving in Salt Valley mighty damned quick.”

“You’re absolutely certain?”

“Not a single doubt in my mind. Visit today is nothing more than a drop of water before a frog strangler of a spring cloudburst comin’ your way. You and the lady are gonna go down chokin’ on blood, if’n you don’t heed my warnin’. Take some sincerely offered advice and get yourselves hid somewheres safe.”

About then, Marshal Oakley led a white-shirted waiter who carried a tray of food out of the hotel. Piled with eggs, bacon, and biscuits, the three plates must have weighed near ten pounds. Our server delivered one heavily loaded dish to a spot in front of each chair, left, and quickly returned with a huge pitcher of ice-cold buttermilk.