Cotton’s Inferno (22 page)

Chapter 42

E
mily stood on the porch and called to Henry. When he ran up to her, she whispered that she wanted him to go into town and ask Cotton to come out to the ranch. She was convinced the sheriff needed to hear the story of what Johnny and Rachael had been through directly from them. She was quite certain there was more to it, and she had become alarmed by some of what she'd overheard from the boy, mingled with what Henry had been able to glean.

When the Indian left, Johnny came out of the barn, after pitching hay to several horses.

“Where's Henry goin', Miss Emily?”

“I sent him into town to invite someone for dinner. Someone I'd like very much for you and Rachael to meet.”

“Oh, who's that?” he asked.

“You'll see. He's a special friend of mine. You'll like him.”

There was something about the secretiveness with which she'd sent Henry off. Johnny had noticed her whispering to the Indian, and he'd felt a tingle run up his spine.
What's she up to? I wonder if it has anything to do with us
. His natural inclination to trust no one was once again gripping him, and his youthful imagination began to soar.

“You go on back to whatever Henry had you doing, and I'll start fixing something special for us all. I'll call you soon to help with getting some wood for the stove. Okay?”

“Uh-huh. I mean yes, ma'am,” Johnny said, with a hint of suspicion in his voice.

He went back to the task set for him, but he was increasingly concerned about Henry's sudden departure at Emily's bequest.
Why isn't that old Indian here to show me what all my duties might be?
He hurried through the task of turning horses out into the corral, including the mare he and Rachael had ridden in on. He patted the horse's neck. Still puzzled by Henry's leaving, he decided to find Rachael and confer with her.
Maybe she's overheard something. She might know what's going on
.

Stabbing the pitchfork into a pile of straw, he started for the house. As he rounded the corner to the back door, Rachael stepped out with a pan full of dirty water and dumped it on the ground, narrowly missing Johnny.

“Hey! Wh-what's the idea?”

“Ohmigosh! Johnny, I'm so sorry. I didn't see you. Here, take this towel and dry off whatever splashed on you.”

“Actually, I don't think I got any on me at all. Reckon I was just surprised.”

“Good. What're you doing coming to the kitchen door, anyway?”

“I needed to see you. Henry left in a hurry after talking in hushed tones with the ranch lady. I need to know if you've heard her say anything that might make you think our mission is in trouble.”

“I don't understand.”

“She was whisperin' to him and then he rushed off, mounted up, and tore outta here like the cavalry was chasing him. I need to figure out if it has to do with us.”

“And if it does?”

“Okay, here's the way I see things. What if Carp Varner
is
in Apache Springs like we figured? And what if he's worked his way into the confidence of important people? I'd bet he's good at that. Miss Emily is one of those
important
people, at least as close as I can figure, what with her owning this big ranch and all.”

“So what? First of all, Carp Varner doesn't know we're on his trail. And Miss Emily doesn't know that, either. We've never even mentioned his name. Unless, of course, you opened your mouth to the Apache.”

Johnny gave her a scowl. “Of course I didn't say anything. Not a word.” At least not a word he could remember. He
had
told the Indian that he'd come from a town that got burned to the ground. But no particulars were discussed, and nothing about Carp Varner. He was damned certain of that. Well, pretty certain.

“Then I don't see what you're so worried about. Besides, what can we do about it anyway?”

“I, uh, don't reckon I know. But the—”

“But nothin'. Now, I have work to do and I need to get back to it. I suggest you do the same. If Miss Emily is affordin' us a nice place to stay, feedin' us good food, and all she's askin' in return is a little help here and there, then I say we owe her. Now, scoot.” Rachael turned on her heel and hurried back inside. The door closed behind her. Johnny was left standing there alone with nothing more than an unsettling feeling that something wasn't quite right. He was a bit unsettled by Rachael's dressing him down, too.

* * *

“Turner, I'm getting' a strange feelin' about what happened to your uncle. It might be best if you don't meet up with Carp Varner just yet, at least not until I do a little more checkin' up on the man,” Cotton said. “Do you mind puttin' off seein' the store for a spell?”

“After finding out that Carp Varner is here, I'm eager to follow your lead, Sheriff. And I have no wish to meet him face-to-face. The man is a viper, of that I am certain.”

“Good. And if you wouldn't mind, make it a point to keep out of his way, just in case he has plans to keep you from movin' in. If he's as devious as you say, he might be capable of most anything.”

“From what I heard about him from my uncle, I'd say you're right.”

“Well, you kinda settle in, enjoy the town, and keep your ear to the ground.”

As Turner Burnside left Cotton's office, Henry Coyote reined in out front. The old Indian slid from his pony's back and eased through the door as silently as a wraith. Cotton hadn't heard him arrive and was startled when he looked up to see the Apache's grinning face.

“Got message from Miss Emily.”

“Have a seat, Henry, and tell me.”

Henry refused the offer and proceeded to give him the message.

“I must return to ranch. Miss Emily say you come to ranch tonight. Two people come and she say you must have talk.”

“Two people, huh? Who are they?”

“White-eyes. Young colts. Boy and squaw. I go now. You come soon. I tell Miss Emily.”

“Two young white yearlings, huh? That's interesting.”

Henry grunted acknowledgment and turned to leave.

“Do you think they spell trouble?”

“Trouble for someone maybe.” Henry left before Cotton could probe further.

The sheriff stared after the Indian, puzzled by the cryptic message. He chewed his lip for a moment before drawing his Colt to check his loads.

Chapter 43

J
ohnny watched another young cowboy backing a horse into a wagon's shaves. He didn't appear to be much older than Johnny himself. As Johnny leaned on the doorframe, an idea came to him. He walked over to the cowboy and stood watching for a moment before speaking.

“Howdy, name's Johnny. You work for Miss Emily, too?”

“Teddy Olander,” the boy said, as he stuck out his hand. “Yep. Been here awhile, I reckon.”

“Need help?”

“If you want to, you can put the harness on and get her all cinched up. I'll hook up the chest strap.”

“You like it here?” Johnny asked, as he set to fitting the harness and hooking up the old mare to the buckboard.

“Sure do. Best outfit this side of the springs.”

“Springs?”

“Yeah, the springs. That's where Apache Springs got its name. It's the source of the town's freshwater. Don't you know nothin'?”

“I, uh, reckon not all that much. Not about this country, leastways,” Johnny said.

“Well, that's all right. I didn't know diddly when I first came, either.”

“Looks like you're fixin' to go somewhere.”

“Yep. Miss Emily is sending me into town to pick up some tools and such. A couple of boxes of nails and several rolls of fence wire.”

“You figure they'll be pretty heavy?”

“Yeah, I suppose. Why?”

“Just thinkin' maybe I should go with you. To help with the liftin' and all.”

Teddy rubbed his chin as a frown came across his face.

“I don't know. Better ask Miss Emily. I wouldn't want her to get angry,” Teddy said.

“Aww, she said I was to do the chores that old Indian gave me, and I've done all of 'em. So, until he gets back from wherever he got off to, I'm just sittin' around. I like to keep busy, you know?”

“Yeah. I feel the same way.”

“C'mon. I won't get in the way, and I can lift pretty good, too. I'm stronger than I look. I'll bet you wouldn't mind an extra hand.”

Teddy took off his slouch hat and wiped his brow with his sleeve. He glanced about, as if thinking that going against his better judgment wasn't such a good idea. Finally, he motioned Johnny to climb aboard the buckboard. Teddy took the driver's seat and slapped the reins to get the mare moving. They rattled off down the slight hill to join the road to town, jostling about with every rut the wagon could find. The rough ride came near to tossing Johnny out on his backside more than once. Teddy couldn't shake his concern, but he'd made the decision to let the boy come along, and it was too late to change his mind now. Johnny sat tightly gripping the side rails to the seat while trying to hide a satisfied grin and looking off toward the hills that ran along the road to the west.

“How far is it to town?” he asked.

“Couple hours. Not very far.”

Johnny just nodded. He reached down with one hand to check the revolver on his hip.

* * *

“I'm goin' out to the Wagner place, Jack. Be back in the mornin'. I'm takin' the long way to get one more look at the place we found Pick's body. Keep an eye on things, will you? Especially that Carp Varner fella.”

“You learn anything more 'bout him?”

“Nope, except that apparently Turner Burnside's uncle had a run-in with Varner back in St. Louis. Turner didn't have anything good to say about the man.”

“What happened to our prisoner? I don't see him,” Jack said, glancing about as if there'd been a jailbreak.

“Yeah, while you were getting reacquainted with Melody, a U.S. marshal from Texas came to take him back for trial. I told you he'd be showin' up sooner or later after I sent a telegram. They musta wanted him pretty bad 'cause they didn't waste any time comin' for him.”

“You want me to air out the mattress in that cell? That Callahan brother seemed to have damned little regard for bathin'.”

“Not a bad idea.”

* * *

On the ride out to Emily's ranch, Cotton had some time to think about the Carp Varner situation. If he'd had bad thoughts about the man when he first arrived in town, finding out that he'd likely been the reason for Joshua Burnside's untimely exit from St. Louis made him even more suspicious about whatever happenstance had brought Varner to Apache Springs. Too many coincidences discomfited him.
Just what the hell is his real reason for being here? And his jumping in to stop a bank robbery was damned convenient, too.

After mulling around his doubts about Varner, he turned up the collar on his coat to ward off a chill that had begun to drift down from the hills. The sky had gone from bright blue to charcoal gray, and a blustery wind was picking up.
I'll bet we're lookin' at our first snow before the week's out
.

When he reached the place where Pick Wheeler had been shot, Cotton dismounted and began wandering around, trying to find something, anything that might point to the guilty party. He spent over an hour, kicking rocks and brushing aside the tall grass and dried-up shrubs. The hoofprints of the horse that met Pick and stood while the two riders talked were unremarkable, but just then he saw a piece of paper caught in some brush and being wafted by the breeze. He bent over and plucked it from the grip of the leafless branches. It appeared to be a receipt from a business in Las Cruces. Cotton could think of no reason for its being there. He shrugged and stuck it in his shirt pocket. After an hour of his search for anything that might appear to be a clue, he gave up and went on to his intended destination.

Arriving at the Wagner ranch, he reined in by the corral. He dismounted and began to remove the mare's saddle. He was ready to take off the bridle when Henry came out of the bunkhouse. Henry came up to him looking grim.

“You see Teddy and other boy on way out?”

“Uh, no. Didn't pass anyone from the ranch. Why?”

“They go to town for nails and wire. Miss Emily worry there be trouble.”

“I'll check on her. Thanks, Henry.”

Stepping onto the porch, the door swung open and Emily Wagner rushed out to hug him.

“Thank goodness you're here. You must meet a young lady and hear her story. And the boy she arrived with, well, actually at the moment he's missing.”

“Missing? Henry said he probably went to town with Teddy. I'd hardly call that ‘missing.'”

“Wait till you hear what Rachael has to say. She's in the back. I'll get her.”

Cotton got comfortable on the big leather couch. There was a small fire in the fireplace, just enough to take the chill out of the air, something he'd not seen for several months. It felt good. It felt like home. He casually glanced around the room, at the books that lined one wall, at the overstuffed chairs with doilies on the arms, at the pictures hanging by long wires from a strip of polished wood that went all the way around the room about two feet down from the ceiling.

He was dreaming of a life of leisure and how he might fit into it, when out of the corner of his eye he caught a movement. He turned to see a pretty young girl, whom he guessed to be no more than sixteen or seventeen, standing in the doorway. Her brown hair was gathered on top of her head and then wrapped in a scarf. She wore a simple cotton work dress with an apron he'd seen Emily wear a dozen times before. The girl was barefoot. She looked at the floor shyly.

“Rachael, this is a very close friend. He's the sheriff of Apache Springs, and I'm sure he'd be interested in hearing what you and Johnny have been through.”

Cotton stood and smiled at the girl. He stuck out his hand, although he could tell she was reluctant to get too close to anyone wearing a badge. Finally, awkwardly, she gave a timid shake accompanied by a weak smile. Emily guided her to a chair that faced the couch, taking the seat next to Cotton herself.

“It's nice to meet you, Rachael. Where are you from?”

“Texas.”

“Did your parents have a ranch there?”

“Uh, not really.”

“Do they know where you are?”

“Doubt it. Besides they don't care.”

“Oh, I'm sorry. So, you're all alone?”

“No. I got Johnny.”

“Johnny's the young man you arrived with?”

“Yes.”

“Is he a relative?”

“No.”

“How'd you two come to meet up?”

“He saved my life.”