Cotton’s Inferno (30 page)

Chapter 58

A
fter Doc Winters had patched up the sheriff's painful but in the end insignificant wounds, Cotton was resting comfortably at his house with a cup of hot coffee and the smells of something cooking on the stove. Emily wouldn't hear of him fending for himself after such a traumatic day, and he had no intention of talking her out of it. She told Henry to take Johnny back to the ranch and put him to work. It was time things settled down, and she was just the one to see to it that they did.

“Before you two leave, I want to thank you, Henry, for all your help,” Cotton said. “And Johnny, I know you're disappointed that Varner didn't die by your hand, but if it hadn't been for you and Rachael, he still would have showed up here with his evil intent and we'd have been caught off guard. By that reasoning, I'd say you
did
pay him back for what he'd done to you and your friends. I'm mighty glad you showed up when you did.”

“Uh, thank you, sir,” Johnny said, with a shy grin. He followed Henry out the door, looking eager to see Rachael and share with her what had happened.

Jack came in as Emily came out of the kitchen with a bowl of beans and some fresh bread. He grinned and thanked her when she asked him to stay. Sipping the coffee she'd poured him, he sat and stared at Cotton.

“Those hurt?” he asked.

“What, these little holes? Naw. Sorta like bein' bee stung. Nothin' like gettin' shot in the back by a girlfriend.”

Jack grimaced at the barb.

“Johnny goin' back to the Wagner place?”

“Yep,” Cotton said. “Maybe he'll stick around for a while. With a little maturity, he might even make a good deputy someday. And I figure to be needin' one if you keep on hangin' around with a gun-totin' whore with no compunction about plugging you every time she gets a bee in her bonnet.”

Jack blushed. He'd been had, twice. Then he suddenly seemed to remember what had really brought him by to see the sheriff. He got up and walked to the door. He picked up Varner's shotgun and a thick paper sack.

“Got a surprise. I figure this'll clear up a whole passel of questions.”

“Yeah, like what?” Cotton said, with a slight groan.

“This shotgun Varner was so eager to use to blow the town apart belonged to Pick Wheeler. Recognized it the moment I saw it. Musta took it when he shot the old prospector in the back. Ten-gauge.”

Cotton smiled a knowing smile. “Then I'm goin' out on a limb and guessin' that paper sack you're holdin' has Melody's money in it. Varner musta been the man sittin' on the bench outside the bank the day she started braggin' about buyin' a silver mine.”

“Say, you're good. You ever thought of joinin' the Pinkertons?” Jack said, raising one eyebrow.

“What, and leave you to clean up Melody's messes all by yourself? Not on your life.”

“Okay if I break the good news to Melody?”

“I reckon. Maybe that'll make your life a bit more comfortable, at least until she comes up with another dumb scheme.”

After Jack left, Cotton turned to Emily.

“What do you figure will happen to Johnny and Rachael?” he asked her.

“Well, I got plenty of room, and they could both be useful at the ranch. I figure to ask them to stay, at least until they decide where their futures will take them,” she said, with a slight shrug.

Cotton nodded. He leaned back in his chair with a weary and painful sigh. He couldn't help wondering what would have happened to Apache Springs if he'd not killed Carp Varner. Chances were the town would now have been nothing more than a pile of charred ruins and destroyed lives. The fear that had coursed through him at the recognition of Varner's total despotism and willingness to unleash a potential firestorm on a community—he hoped never to experience that again. Carp Varner had been dispatched in the blink of an eye to forever dwell in the Devil's own inferno.

Cotton reached over and squeezed Emily's hand.