Between Hell and Texas (23 page)

“Lematte…and his men,” Cassidy rasped. “They killed everybody but me. Bouchard…Grubs, Turner, and Sandy, all of them dead in the street.”

“Take it easy, Mike,” Dawson said, taking a canteen from Carmelita as she stepped down from the mule, uncapped it, and handed it to him. “We’re going to get you to the ranch, get you taken care of.” He poured a trickle of water on Cassidy’s dry lips.

Cassidy gripped Dawson’s forearm. “I won’t make it to the ranch, Crayton.”

“Sure you will,” said Dawson. “You’re going to be all right, Mike, hang on.” He gave Carmelita a doubtful look, then asked Cassidy, “What was all this about, Mike? What started it?”

“Lematte killed one of the saloon women,” said Cassidy.

“Why?” Dawson asked, stunned.

“Because he’s a rotten…bastard,” Cassidy gasped. Gripping Dawson’s arm he added, “And he beat up Suzzette, real bad.”

“He beat up Suzzette? How bad?” Dawson asked, concerned about her condition.

“I never saw her…” Cassidy said weakly. “Jimmie Turner went wild…called Lematte out on it.”

“Mike, listen to me,” said Dawson, seeing him fading. “I’m going to take you on out to the ranch. We’ve got to get you some help. Can you try to stay in your saddle, if I lay you in it?”

“I’ll try…but I ain’t going to make it, Crayton,” Cassidy whispered. “Get Lematte for me,” he pleaded, “for Bouchard, for all of us…” He slumped onto the ground, his eyes going empty, his jaw slack.

Dawson checked his pulse. “He’s dead,” he said to Carmelita. Prying Cassidy’s clenched hand from his shirt sleeve, Dawson stood up and said, “I’ll take him on out to the Double D. You can take the mule and go on home. I’ll be along later, as soon as I can.”

“
Si
,” said Carmelita. “I will be waiting for you. But please do not go to town looking for vengeance.”

“I won’t go looking for vengeance,” said Dawson. “But I can’t promise you that I won’t get involved in this thing. Bouchard and his men would have done the same for me.”

“I understand,” said Carmelita, deciding this wasn’t the time to talk about it. She watched him stoop down and close Cassidy’s eyes. Then she walked to the mule, mounted, and rode away.

Dawson laid Cassidy’s body over the dun’s saddle and led the horse by its reins along the Old Spanish Trail until he rode up to the closed gates of the Double D Ranch. Sonny Wells had spotted him coming from a long ways off, with the body lying over the dun’s back. He had opened the gates and stood watching in dark anticipation as Dawson halted Stony, looked down at him and said, “It’s Mike Cassidy, Sonny. But I’m afraid I’ve got more bad news.”

Sonny Wells took the reins to the dun and led it
along as Cray Dawson relayed the news about Gains Bouchard and the others being dead. Shaney the cook and his helper, Frenchy, stood up from the tailgate of his chuck wagon in the side yard and watched Dawson and Sonny walk along the path to the house.

“Boys, this ain’t looking good,” Shaney said to the drovers who began to walk over from the corral and the bunkhouse yard to see what was going on.

Arriving at the chuck wagon, Dawson touched his hat brim and said howdy to the old cook.

“What happened to him?” Shaney asked, recognizing Cassidy. He wiped his hands on his grease-spotted apron as he stepped around and took a closer look, shaking his head grimly.

Dawson said, “Let everybody draw around first, Shaney. I only want to have to tell this once.”

As the rest of the drovers came in and circled close to the dun, taking off their hats and looking at Cassidy’s body, Dawson called out to them, saying, “Pards, Mike Cassidy is not the only one dead. Gains Bouchard, Sandy Edelmen, Stanley Grubs, and young Jimmie Turner are all dead.”

A low murmur went up from the drovers. Then they settled down respectfully and listened to Dawson relay to them what Cassidy had told him. When he’d finished telling them, Broken Nose Simms said, “Jimmie Turner could never stand seeing a woman mistreated, even if she was a whore.”

“Gains Bouchard showed the world that he’d stand with his men and die with them if need be,” said a seasoned drover named Alvin Decker.

“Everybody keep their heads,” Dawson cautioned them, seeing the anger flare.

But Alvin Decker would have none of it. “Boys,”
he said, “I’ve heard enough talk. I say we go take Somos Santos apart and put it back together, without Sheriff Lematte and his murdering rats in it!”

A cry of support arose from the drovers until Shaney raised a hand and called out for silence. When they quieted down, he said, “I’m just as upset about this as the rest of yas. But before we go shooting up the town, we’ve got some other important things that has to be done first.”

“Yeah? Like what?” said Broken Nose Simms testily.

Shaney said firmly, “Like getting everybody’s body back here and giving them all a proper burial! That’s
what!
”

“You know he’s right, men,” said Dawson, stepping down from his saddle. “Bouchard loved this place. He wouldn’t want to be buried anywhere else. And none of the others would want to be laid in boot hill, if they had any say in the matter.”

The drovers stood watching silently as Dawson helped Sonny Wells lower Cassidy’s body onto a wool blanket that Frenchy had run and grabbed from inside the chuck wagon. Finally Barney Woods called out what had been on all their minds, “Are you going to ride with us to take on these murdering bastards, Dawson?”

Sonny Wells stepped forward before Dawson could answer, saying, “Crayton Dawson is one of us! Don’t none of you ever forget that! He’ll do what he knows is best…the way Bouchard would do if he was here!”

Barney Woods stepped back, giving Dawson a repentant look, saying, “Sorry Dawson, you know how I am. I get riled and don’t always think real clear. I meant nothing by it.”

“I know that, Barney.” Dawson gave him a nod, then said to everybody, “Listen up, men. I don’t know what will happen to the Double D now that Gains Bouchard is dead. He was a prudent man, so I’m thinking his attorney in Houston has a will, and some sort of plan for this place in the event of Bouchard’s death. We’ll notify his attorney, but for right now, until we hear otherwise, somebody is going to have to take charge here.” He looked around at Shaney, and called out, “I think Shaney’s the man Bouchard would pick, since his foreman died with him.” He looked all around. “Does anybody say otherwise?”

Heads shook back and forth slowly. But Shaney called out before Dawson could continue, “Men, I’m a cook. I don’t claim to know how to run an outfit. I can feed, doctor, punch boils, and cut snakebites. But I can’t keep this place together full time and I ain’t ashamed to admit it. I’ll run things until we hear from Gains’s attorney, but when I write to his attorney I’m going to ask to be relieved.”

“You’re quitting us?” Frenchy asked.

“No, idiot, I ain’t quitting!” Shaney barked at his helper. “I’ll still cook…but I won’t run this spread.” He looked straight at Cray Dawson and said, “All of you know that I thought the world of Sandy Edelman, both as a man and as a foreman. But you all know as well as I do that had Cray Dawson been here when Bouchard appointed a foreman, it would have been him running this crew instead of Sandy.”

“Wait a minute, Shaney,” said Dawson, seeing where this was going.

Ignoring him, Shaney said, “So I say we all ask that Cray Dawson be appointed to run this spread
until such time as a heir or a new owner shows up to take over. Who agrees with me?”

Dawson looked around at a unanimous show of hands. “All right, we’ll see,” he said. But first things first. I’m taking a buckboard to Somos Santos to pick up Bouchard and the others. I’m going to bring Suzzette back with me if she’ll come. I want two men to go along with me.”

“Only two?” Shaney asked.

“That’s right, only two,” said Dawson. “I don’t want to turn it into a fight. I just want to get our dead and get them back here. If I take more men, it looks like I’m coming for a showdown.”

“I say I ought to be one of the men you take with you,” said Barney Woods, stepping forward, “and I say Alvin Decker ought to be the other.”

“You’re not going with me, Barney,” said Dawson. He gave Alvin Decker a look, stopping him from coming forward. “Neither are you Alvin. You’ll both lose your tempers. That’s what we
don’t
want to happen.” He looked around; then, spotting the Furry brothers, he said, “Eldon, Max. Can I count on you two keeping cool heads in town?”

The Furry brothers looked at one another blankly, then back at Dawson. “We’ll try, Crayton,” said Eldon, the older of the two.

“All right then,” said Dawson. “That’s all I ask. We’ll leave right now and ride through the night. The quicker we get the bodies out of there the better.” He looked at the others, then said, “I want the rest of you to ride with us until we get a quarter of a mile from town. I know the land is still wet, but the sun has already dried the trail. Raise as much dust as you can, so they’ll get the idea we’ve got men coming
if we need them. But everybody will stay out of Somos Santos unless you hear shooting.” He looked straight at Barney Woods. “Is that clear, Barney?”

“Yeah,” said Barney Woods, sincerely. “I’ll stay in line, Dawson. You’ve got my word on it.”

“Mine too,” said Decker.

“That goes for everybody here,” Dawson said, looking from one drover to the next as if asking each one for their word. “We’ve got burying to do…let’s do it with respect.”

Cleveland Ellis and Moon Braden sat atop a ridge and watched the Dawson house for a full hour before deciding to ride down and take a closer look. Afternoon shadows stretched long across the land as they rode cautiously into the yard and stepped down from their saddles with their pistols coming up from their holsters, cocked and ready. “Hello, the house,” Ellis called out, motioning for Moon Braden to put some distance between them as they approached the front porch. Stepping up quietly and crossing the porch, he slowly shoved the door open a few inches, then looked inside. He turned back to Braden, taking a breath of relief.

“Just like we thought, Moon,” he said. “There’s nobody here. But it looks like there has been.”

“Are you sure this is the old Dawson homestead?” Braden asked, looking down at the fresh prints that Stony and the red mule had left behind.

“Yes, I’m sure,” said Cleveland Ellis. “One of the hands from the Double D showed it to me once when we was pushing some steers past here.”

“Then these must be his tracks,” said Braden. “It looks like there was two riders here.” He pointed at the ground near the hitch rail and added, “They
weren’t just passing by either. They hitched their mounts.”

“All right,” said Ellis, still holding his pistol, but uncocking it. “Let’s go inside, see what we can learn about mister
hotshot
gunman.”

After a close look at the newly hung curtains, scrubbed floors, and cleaned hearth, Moon Braden said, “Looks like Dawson is about to move back in and set up housekeeping here.”

“Not if you and I have anything to say about it.” Ellis grinned. “Come on, give me a hand.” He picked up an oil lamp, shook it to see if it was full, then unscrewed the cap.

“What are you doing?” Braden asked.

“What the hell does it look like I’m doing?” Ellis replied, chuckling under his breath.

“We don’t have to do this!” said Braden. He’ll be coming back before long. All we got to do is wait, and be ready to ambush him!”

“That’s right,” said Ellis, shaking the lamp fuel all over the table, the floor, and up and down the new curtains. “But he’ll see this a long ways off and come riding in fast, before he has time to realize what might be waiting for him along the trail.”

“That ain’t sound enough reasoning to suit me,” said Braden, shaking his head.

“Sound reasoning, hell,” said Ellis. “Some things you have to do just for the fun of it. Don’t forget this gunman peckerwood cost us our jobs at the Double D.”

“I thought we was getting ready to quit that job anyway,” said Braden.

“You just ain’t with me on nothing today, are you, Moon?” said Ellis, cocking a menacing eye at him.

“All right, damn it,” said Braden. “I’ll go along with you. But let’s get done and get out of here. Don’t forget how he got his reputation.”