Murder in Dogleg City (19 page)

As the sun began its final plunge
toward the flat lands beyond, he mulled over the past hours. He
first wondered what kind of a man Munder had been. How could he
have not really known the lady he was married to? How could any man
miss something that was obvious to Jake early on? From the time he
first laid eyes on Teresa, he felt a lustful attraction to her; an
overwhelming desire to sample what he felt must be beneath that
mask of propriety she had tried so hard to wear. She’d succeeded in
her subterfuge with the other citizens of Wolf Creek, but how could
a woman like that fool the very man she lived with? Or did she?
Jake was rapidly coming to the conclusion that Alexander Munder was
merely a blind, thickheaded fool. Probably deserved what he got.
But why? And what was his connection to Offerman, the man who Abby
claimed stabbed him to death? And did Offerman’s apparent
relationship with Mayor Dab Henry have anything to do with
anything? Lots of questions, but damned few answers.

As he reined in behind the Wolf’s Den,
he stepped down with a strange feeling. Just riding down the street
made him uneasy. Something was not right. Folks appeared reluctant
to step outside. His curiosity piqued, Jake eased in the back door
to the saloon, taking care to look every person he passed in the
eye. Quieter than usual, he leaned on the bar and asked the
bartender, Mack, what the hell was going on that was making the
whole town seem jumpy. Even the house gambler, Preston Vance,
seemed off his game. Jake never liked Vance, he couldn’t tolerate
the phony Southern charm the man exhibited, so he managed to stay
away from him. Mack the bartender bent over, looked around
nervously, then leaned close to say something.

“
Jake, Ira told me to tell
you there’s a fella upstairs wants to have words with
you.”

“
Who is it,
Mack?”

“
Gambler from the Lucky
Break, Samuel Jones.”

Jake scowled. “What the hell does he
want?”

Mack was getting shakier by the
minute.

“
I don’t know, Jake,” he
said. “Ever’body’s been talkin’ about him, though, since that duel
yesterday. I mean hell, we have gunfights all the time, but most
folks around here have never seen no fancy by-the-rules duel
before.”

Jake’s eyes narrowed. This was damned
shady. First Ira Breedlove puts him on the gambler’s scent, now
that proposed quarry had shown up at Ira’s place wanting to
meet.

“
He armed?” Jake
demanded.

“
I’d say so. But I doubt
Ira’d send you into a trap.” Mack looked around furtively. “Fact
is,” he whispered, “Ira said to tell you somethin’—‘you’re
welcome,’ he said.”

So that was it. Ira wanted this fancy
duelist dead—the saloon owner had as much as said he’d prefer Jake
to just shoot first and find out if the jasper was wanted or not
afterwards. It seemed that waiting for replies to Jake’s telegrams
about reward dodgers was too long a process for Ira. And now he had
somehow arranged to hand-deliver him—but Jake doubted the gambler
would put his neck on the block like a lamb to the
slaughter.

“
Your boss has never gone
out of his way to be so helpful to me before, Mack. Why
today?”

“
I dunno,
Jake.”

“
I ought to make you walk
into that room ahead of me, Mack. That way, if this gambler shoots,
you’ll get something extra for helpin’ set me up.”

“
I-I’m sorry, Jake. I
don’t know what’s goin’ on, and I don’t wanna know.”

Jake checked his Colt and slowly
ascended the stairs. He looked back over his shoulder and asked
Mack what room the man was in.

Mack held up three fingers.

When Jake reached room #3, he listened
for a second before knocking. He stood aside as he did
so.

“
Come on in,
Jake.”

Jake opened the door cautiously,
pushing it wide so he could see the man on the overstuffed chair
clearly. He didn’t seem to have a gun in his hand. In fact, a
holster and revolver were wrapped up with a cartridge belt lay on
the table next to him. Jake went in. He still didn’t recognize the
man.

“
They told me downstairs
you wanted to have a chat,” Jake said.

“
I do, indeed. Have a
seat. And don’t be so suspicious. I’m not packing any hideout
Derringers this evening.” The man held out his hand. Jake shook it,
but was, as yet, unconvinced there was no danger. Jones smiled. “No
dueling pistols, either,” he said.

“
What’s this all
about?”

“
I’d like to fill you in
on a few things before we get down to business.”

Jake nodded.

“
Do you remember
me?”

“
Of course. You’re a
gambler for Dab Henry. Samuel Jones. I’ve seen you around. Mack
said you plugged a man named Hébert this afternoon. But I don’t see
what any of that has to do with me.”

“
It has everything to do
with you, my friend.”

“
I’m all ears. Enlighten
me,” Jake said.

“
Do you know a man named
Malchius Offerman?”

“
Uh-huh. Whiskey drummer.
Fact is, I’ve been lookin’ for him, and I keep missin’ him
somehow.”

“
He’s looking for you,
too. And he doesn’t intend to miss you.”

“
Damn,” Jake said. “Abby
must’ve blabbed to him that I was on his scent.”

Samuel Jones shook his head. “I’m not
sure what you’re talking about, or how Abby’s involved, but this
time you’re the prey. Offerman has been on your scent, for some
time. He came to Wolf Creek specifically to kill you.”

“
Kill me? I told you, I
never met the man.”

“
Yes, but you met his
brother. He’d been in on a bank robbery in Austin where some teller
were shot. You tracked him down to St. Joe and killed him for the
bounty—Offerman said his name was Clyde.”

Jake’s eyes lit in recognition. “Yeah.
Clyde Offerman in St. Joe. One of them tellers was the mayor’s son,
and the whole town pitched in for the reward. That’s why the name
sounded so damn familiar—I just never would’ve connected him with a
whiskey drummer. I remember the wily bastard somehow got behind me
and started throwin’ lead. Got me in the leg before I was able to
bring him down. Hated havin’ to kill him, but it was him or me.
Unfortunately, the reward was cut in half because I brought back a
body instead of a candidate for a necktie party. The town was
lookin’ forward to havin’ its revenge and figured I stole it from
them. His brother!”

Jake’s expression went from
recognition to surprise and finally to a seething rage, all in the
time it might take a man to blink. He pushed himself up from the
chair.

“
I’ll be damned,” Jake
said. “This whiskey peddler killed that Laird fella and framed me
for it. And just in case that didn’t work, he killed Teresa
Munder’s husband for apparently no good reason—but really it was on
the gamble she’d hire me to go lookin’ when he never came home, and
the trail would lead me to Offerman. I don’t understand why he’d do
that part, though.”

It seemed Samuel Jones wasn’t through
with him. Not by a damned sight.

“
Hold on, Jake, there’s
more. Sit down and hear me out.”

Jake took a minute to decide whether
to listen or to go after Offerman without delay. But, after a
moment, he did return to the seat he’d just vacated. “Give,” he
said.

“
Offerman’s got himself
three hired guns signed on to help him take you down. Maybe more,
by now. I’d wager that’s why he killed that blowhard Munder—so
you’d come straight to him, not realizing he’d rounded up enough
killers to make it a trap.”

Jake stared hard at the gambler. “How
the hell do you know so much about all this, anyways?”

Samuel Jones smiled. “The duel. It got
Offerman’s attention, and he approached me this morning offering to
buy my gun. To help kill you. In fact, he’s waiting for me to join
him at the Lucky Break now, and we’re supposed to wait for you to
show up.”

“
And you decided instead
to come tell me the whole story? What’s in it for you?”

Jones stared back. “I asked if you
remembered me, earlier. I didn’t mean, do you know who I am—of
course you do, we’ve both been in this town long enough for that. I
meant, do you remember me from the barricades. When the Kiowa
attacked Wolf Creek.”

Jake cocked his head. “I recall you
was there, sure.”

“
So you don’t remember.
Well, I do, and I won’t forget.”

“
You lost me,
amigo
.”

“
We were at the
barricade,” the gambler explained. “A Kiowa brave got the better of
me—he seemed to just drop out of the sky—and he was about to dash
my brains out with a tomahawk. Then you tackled him, and stuck him
with that Arkansas toothpick of yours.”

Jake grunted. “Sounds kinda familiar.
But I believe I killed a bunch of Injuns that day, it all kinda
runs together.”

“
Maybe you did,” Jones
said. “But that was the only one who was a hair’s breadth from
killing me. I am a man of honor, Jake. In fact, my honor is the
only thing I really have managed to hold onto in this life. And I
never forget a debt like that.”

Jake nodded. “Well, if you say so.
Makes sense to me, believe it or not. So I’m much obliged, and you
can consider us even. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m fixin’ to go
kill me a drummer.”

“
A man’d be foolish to
call Offerman out without someone to watch his back,” Samuel Jones
said.

“
Is that an offer?” Jake
asked, hesitant.

“
A debt this big is not
canceled just because you say it is—and a simple warning won’t do.
You saved my life, now I’m standing with you and backing your
play.”

Jake had never felt the need for
someone to watch out for him, but if what Jones claimed was true,
he was facing odds of four-to-one at best. It might be worth it to
make certain he didn’t ride past Teresa Munder’s ranch in an
undertaker’s coach with a bullet in his back. He rubbed his stubbly
chin and broke into a wry grin, both at the thought of seeing
Teresa again, as well as having an extra gun as he went up against
a cold-blooded murderer. He suddenly reached a hand across to
Samuel Jones.

“
Mister Jones, you’ve got
yourself a deal. When do you want to start this soiree?”

“
Now seems as good a time
as any.”

Jake laughed heartily. “I’ll be
damned,” he said. “It’s gonna break old Ira’s heart to see us walk
out of here together!”

“
Why’s that?”

“
Because he wanted
me
to kill
you
. I’m not sure why. I
think it was just to annoy your boss.”

The gambler shook his head. “This is a
hell of a town.”

* * *

It was dusk when they arrived at the
Lucky Break. Piano music and laughter rolled out over the batwing
doors. Malchius Offerman’s horse was at the hitching post.
Rattlesnake Jake paused before he stepped up onto the
boardwalk.

“
Samuel,” he said, “why
don’t you go around back and slip in the back way. He’ll likely
have anyone he’s hired to back him up close-by, in case I show up
before you do. I’m sure he knows by now that Abby has let it slip
that I’m lookin’ to take him in for the murder of Alexander Munder.
And he probably has figured out that his plot to get me hanged for
killing Laird what’s-his-name has fallen short, since Marshal
Gardner hasn’t put me in shackles, yet. He’ll be ready for a
confrontation.”

“
Give me a few minutes to
get inside. Then, make your appearance. I’ll back you,” Sam
said.

Jake waited briefly, knowing Sam
wouldn’t dawdle on his way to get in on the action. As he pushed
open the batwings, he saw Offerman sitting at a table with three
other men. Although he’d never personally met Offerman, he knew
instantly which one of the three he was. Malchius Offerman was a
dead ringer for his deceased brother, the man Jake had killed in
Missouri. He kept his hand on the butt of his Colt as he approached
the table.

“
Malchius
Offerman?”

“
That’s me,” the drummer
said. Although he dressed like a salesman, he didn’t hold himself
like one, somehow. He seemed very calm and confident, and
dangerous. “I didn’t catch your name,” Offerman added.

“
Oh, you know my name,”
Jake said. “You’ve been doin’ your best to get me accused of a
murder I didn’t commit.”

“
I’ve got no idea what the
hell you’re talking about, mister. Why don’t you just move on
before my friends and I take umbrage at your accusations.” Offerman
let his hand slip beneath the table.

One of his companions was a portly,
unwashed man. The second was a Mexican with a thick beard. The
third one Jake recognized from the Wolf’s Den, a lay-about named
Randolph. They all slowly scooted their chairs back from the table.
The other patrons had seen this show before; the chatter stopped.
Boomduck Gentry, the vulture-faced piano player, ended his song
abruptly with a single discordant chord.