Cotton's Law (9781101553848) (26 page)

Plink entered the hotel lobby still bleary-­eyed and stumbling. He fell twice on the stairs up to his room. After fumbling for his key, he opened the door, went inside, and fell facedown on the creaking bed. Sleep came quickly but fitfully. His head was awash with unsettling images of guns going off and bodies being thrown to the ground to lie in pools of blood that seemed to grow and grow until the street was a river of red. At one point he awoke screaming and sitting up in bed. His revolver was in his hand and he was pointing it at his own head. Perspiration poured off him and he lay back shaking, filled with fear.

The nightmares were becoming more and more violent, and almost certain to again emerge each and every time he closed his eyes.

“J
ack, I want you to ride back out to Mrs. Blanchard’s place and see if you can get a little more time from those folks. We’ve got to keep them from comin’ into town with fire in their eyes and a rope in their hands. If they come rampaging in here like a mob of vigilantes, Sleeve and his boys will cut them to pieces. And we’ll be caught in the middle. We can’t take them both on at the same time.” Cotton seemed uncharacteristically nervous.

“You’re right about that, but I doubt I can do much if their minds are still set on only givin’ us four days. Half of that is gone already. They didn’t seem overly eager to listen to a tin star,” Jack said.

“We have to try. Since you’re the one who talked to them in the first place, it should be you that does the asking. Make it sound like you understand their cause.”

“Trouble is, I do,” Jack said as he frowned, grabbed a rifle off the gun rack for his saddle scabbard, and left.

As he approached the Blanchard ranch, he pulled up. What he saw was disturbing. There were about a dozen riders in the barnyard, ambling around aimlessly like they were waiting for the order to saddle up. They were well armed and gave the impression they were about to lay siege to a fort. Jack sat still for a few minutes pondering whether to ride down into the midst of a gaggle of angry men with guns. Finally, he could see no other option, and he spurred his horse to a gallop. When he reined up in front of the house, Mrs. Blanchard came onto the porch with her hands on her hips. She wore an apron as if she’d just finished feeding a passel of hungry soldiers. As Jack looked around, it appeared that’s exactly what she’d done.

“What is it you want this time, Deputy?” Her mood was decidedly cold.

“What’s goin’ on? I thought we’d agreed you folks would give us at least four days to solve the Havens problem.”

“Most of the ranchers that have been taken in by that scoundrel voted to go against our agreement. I figure they’re all out of patience with waitin’,” she said.

“If those men ride into Apache Springs figurin’ to dislodge Havens and his hired gunslingers, there’s goin’ to be a lot of bloodshed. Many of those men out there in your barnyard won’t be comin’ home to their families. I know you don’t want that to happen.”

“Ain’t nothin’ I can do about it. They’re grown men and they make up their own minds. Ain’t a darned thing an old woman can say to change that.”

“Mrs. Blanchard, I know those men will listen to you. Please consider what I’m sayin’. I need a little more time. The sheriff and I are both on
your
side, but we are also sworn to uphold the law, and what you’re about to do is illegal. Arrests will be made, blood will be shed, and all over one crooked banker. He’s the only one who’ll come out of this thing untouched. Please, listen to me—­”

“What’s this fella fillin’ your head with, Miz Blanchard?” said one of the men who’d gathered out back, as he walked his horse around to the front of the house.

“He’s come to talk us into stayin’ put for a spell, just so’s the sheriff can get this Havens to move on of his own accord, I reckon.”

“That it?” the man asked Jack. “You figure to convince Havens to pull up stakes and give up waitin’ around to clean us all out? Why, son, you’re as full of buffalo dung as he is. He ain’t goin’ to skedaddle; he’s goin’ nowhere until all those loans come due and then he’ll own half the county.”

“I never said it would be easy. But we have to try doin’ it legal-­like. Havens won’t win this fight; you got my word on that. But what you’re plannin’ can’t succeed, either. Havens has hired a bunch of killers and he’d like nothin’ better than to see some of you brought down so’s you won’t be alive to pay his bank back. That way, he wins by default, your families will lose everything, and he don’t have to wait for his money, nor anything else. Your women and children will be kicked off the land you worked hard to develop. That what you want?”

“You got a good argument, son, but our minds are made up. We’re gettin’ rid of that skunk for good. Now is as good a time as any. We’ll still give you till Friday, but that’s it,” he said over his shoulder. Every one of the riders shouted their agreement without protest, even though many had heard Jack’s words.

Jack could see the futility of wasting more time talking. He mounted up and spun his horse around. He spurred the gelding to a run, heading straight back for town. He could only hope Cotton would come up with a solution before the army of angry ranchers blew the lid off things, turning the streets of Apache Springs into a possible massacre.

He came to a dusty halt in front of the jail and dismounted in the cloud swirling around his horse. He stomped onto the boardwalk and pushed the door open.

“Cotton! Things a—­”

He saw then that except for the one prisoner the jail was
empty. He went back outside, looking up and down the street for the sheriff, without any luck.

“Crap!” he grumbled aloud, mostly to himself. “If Cotton’s gone back out to play parlor games with Emily Wagner at a time like this, I’ll—­”

“You’ll what?” Cotton said as he came around the side of the jail.

“Uh, nothin’.”

“So, what happened? Did you get them to hold off?”

“Hell, no! Fact is, they’re still bent on comin’ on Friday. I couldn’t steer that herd away from the cliffs. And they’re pretty lathered up, too. Couldn’t talk
any
sense to ’em.”

“Damn! Okay, here’s what you do. Go down to the livery and tell whoever’s there to drag out every bale of hay and straw he’s got and pile ’em on either side of the street at the edge of town. That’s the most logical way for ’em to come. I just saw Henry Coyote ride into town. I’ll get him to stay in town a couple of days. I’ll have him take up a position on the balcony of Melody’s saloon.”

“And when they see we’ve blocked their way, what do you figure they’re goin’ to do? Hope you ain’t figurin’ on them boys turnin’ tail and runnin’. They won’t, believe me.”

“Didn’t figure they would, but they’ll not be wantin’ to shoot it out with the law as well. I don’t figure they’re goin’ to face down you, me, Henry Coyote, and Havens’s men, too.”

“Havens’s men? What the hell are you talkin’ about? They won’t lift a hand to help us. They’ll see it as a perfect opportunity to gun us down in the process.”

“I’m bettin’ they won’t. After I tell Havens what’s about to transpire, he’ll tell his men to back our play to guarantee his safety. You see, he isn’t just a scheming tyrant, he’s also a coward, but his hirelings will do as he says.”

“Hmm. Might work. Okay, I’ll get someone to start readyin’ a barricade.” Jack wandered off in the direction of the livery while Cotton sought out a conversation with Bart Havens himself, something he was suddenly looking forward to.

Cotton stopped just inside the Havens Bank, where he came face-­to-­face with Delilah Jones. He took off his hat as he approached her.

“Good day, Sheriff. What can we do for you?” Her sweet voice was in stark contrast to everything he knew of Havens.

“I’d like to speak to your boss, Miss, er—­”

“Jones. Delilah Jones. And I’ll see if he’s able to talk to you,” she purred, turning to knock on Bart’s door.

Havens opened the door and, seeing the sheriff standing there, stepped aside. Delilah ushered Cotton into Havens’s office and closed the door as she left. The awkwardness of the two of them standing there, staring at each other, was palpable. Havens walked around his desk and sat. He waved the sheriff to do the same in the chair that faced him. Cotton obliged him.

“To what do I owe this visit from our esteemed sheriff?”

“Well, Havens, I’ll get straight to it. The town is on the verge of being overrun by a gang of pissed-­off customers—­your customers—­and I figure their plan is to storm this bank, drag you outside, and string you up by your worthless neck. And I’m almost of a mind to let ’em.”

“Now, why would my customers ever feel the need to take such a rash and primitive action?”

“Because you’ve cheated them, every one of them. Those contracts you had them sign—­the ones with the no-­interest clause—­will end with either huge penalties or forfeiture of property. And they damned well got it all figured out. You thought them too stupid to see through your scheme, but they did. And to make things worse, you stood by while one of your rattlers gunned down one of their own. Stupid, really stupid. So now, unless you listen to my plan and listen good, I’ll have no choice but to turn them loose to do as they wish. They are
seriously
riled up!”

“You wouldn’t. You’re a straight-­shooting minion of the law, and your reputation as such is far too valuable to you to contemplate abandoning your legal responsibilities.”

“Here’s where that kind of thinkin’ could get you killed: there are too many of them for me and my deputy to handle. So you can put your gunslingers out there on that street to back us up, or I walk away. But make up your mind quickly because they’ll be here day after tomorrow.”

“I see no reason to interfere with the way the law handles such situations. You’re the sheriff, and you have an obligation to protect the citizenry. I am a citizen. Now, if by some chance a couple of bullets happened to get you and your deputy, I’ll simply ask my men to stand in the doorway to the bank and repel any with the stomach for risk. My men are the best around at what they do. Make no mistake about that.”

“I see where you’re comin’ from, Bart, but there’s a couple of serious flaws in your thinkin’. First, you seem to have forgotten about your hired killers J.J. Bleeker, Whitey Granville, and Buck Kentner. They’re all dead. Second, I could easily step aside and let that mob come straight to your doorstep.”

“My men can handle them,” Bart said with a smug grin.

“All fifty of ’em?” Cotton turned and strolled out the door.

As Cotton left Bart’s office, he heard the banker nervously ask Delilah to fetch his men.