Counterfeit Lawman

CHAPTER TWELVE

Ike ignored the stares from the townspeople as he rode down the main street. More than one of the men touched a pistol stuck into his waistband or dangling in a holster, but no one drew. He took that as a good sign. Several women clutched at their companions’ arms and whispered in concern, but none pointed or called out for “something to be done.” He counted that as a success. Seeing a stranger riding through town with a dead body slung over the back of a horse wasn’t usual, even here on the border. If the town marshal kept a tight rein on folks, this might be the first time many of them had seen such a sight.

He rode slowly past a saloon. Although it was getting toward nightfall, the place was subdued. He heard someone playing a banjo inside, but no one sang along. The expected cloud of smoke boiling outward was thin, and if two lanterns were lit inside, it’d be a surprise. Dark, grim, not the common saloon.

“Eagle Pass isn’t a place for wild partying,” he decided. He had money in his pocket. Since the depot was empty and he’d missed the train Lily rode, he was stuck here for a spell. Or maybe not. He had a horse now. There wasn’t any real reason to keep heading northward after the woman. By now she might be halfway to El Paso.

He drew rein and looked down at a man that could only be described as a short drink of water. Standing barely five-two, the man tried to look taller with a big-crowned hat. He wore a gaudy vest, with red and white stripes running vertically to give an added illusion of height. If his legs hadn’t been so bowed, he might have stood an extra couple inches tall, but Ike saw there wasn’t any reason for the man to puff himself up.

All the authority he needed was there for everyone to see.

He wore a huge shiny silver badge on his coat. Just in case he encountered someone not paying attention, the lawman ran his fingers under his lapels and thrust out the badge far enough that a blind man couldn’t miss it.

“You got yourself a curious set of saddlebags, Mister,” the marshal observed with a wry grin. “Any reason you’re bringing in a body all covered with flies and creating such a public health hazard?”

Ike dismounted and stretched. He wasn’t the tallest man in the world, but he towered over the Eagle Pass marshal.

“He robbed the train from San Antonio,” he said without exchanging any of the usual pleasantries since the lawman had launched right into criticism. “The robbery had the air of being done by an owlhoot who’d done such a thing before. I stopped him and thought there might be a reward on his head.”

“Did you, now?” The marshal walked around, grabbed a handful of greasy hair and lifted. He made a face. “Can’t abide with corpses getting all mushy like this.” He dropped the head.

“Think you might leaf through wanted posters and see if he’s worth anything?”

“This one’s worth more dead than alive. I know him,” the marshal said with distaste. “Name’s Lester Buchanan.”

“You think he has a partner?”

“Why’s that?”

Ike explained how the robbery had happened and why Buchanan had been so anxious to jump from the train at a precise point along the tracks. “Somebody left a horse for him. Can’t rightly say why his partner didn’t stick around and ride off with him.” Ike considered the matter. “If they had, I’d be the one drawing flies. Two against one’s not good odds when you’re on foot out in that desert.”

“A real man killer, that heat,” the marshal allowed. “If you don’t know where the watering holes are, it’s close to a death sentence.” He shook his head. “That’s why the soldiers have such a hard time tracking down them Apaches. The Indians know where every spring is. They’re never going dry too long, and if the boys in those blue wool uniforms try drinking from the springs, more ’n likely they fall into an ambush.”

“You know who his partner is, don’t you? Does he have a price on his head, too?”

“You looking to be ambitious and claim a second reward, Mister? That’s mighty greedy.”

Ike waited. The marshal sighed and shook his head.

“Truth is, Mary Ellen probably staked out the horse for him. Her and Buchanan were one hellacious pair, believe me. Which of ’em is more dangerous, well, now, that’s something to argue over around a campfire.”

“She’s in town?”

“She works over at the Rancher’s Rest Saloon. Can you prove she had any part in the robbery?”

“That’s something for you to decide, isn’t it, Marshal? You’re the law in town.” Ike grabbed a handful of coat and pulled. Lester Buchanan fell to the ground with a squishy sound.

“She’s popular here in town, and suspicion’s not good enough. I chased him out of town. Oh, don’t go getting all het up now. The reward’s only twenty-five dollars. Buchanan wasn’t good at much of anything, and that included breaking the law.”

The marshal turned his back on the body and went into the jailhouse. Ike couldn’t help comparing it with Granger’s, back in San Antonio. This was a simple adobe building. The best thing about it was how cool it was inside. Two cages made from iron straps riveted together secured the cells. The marshal had a desk under a rack of two rifles and a shotgun, held in place by a lock and chain. Ike resisted the temptation of yanking on the chain just to see if the entire rack would come tumbling down. Mounting anything on a crumbling adobe wall spelled trouble somewhere down the line when it pulled loose and fell. From this simple arsenal, he decided not much illegal went on in Eagle Pass, or at least not much that the marshal concerned himself with.

“Here he is. That the varmint?” The marshal shoved a poster across his desk.

Ike shrugged. The smeary drawing looked nothing like Lester Buchanan. Depending on that picture to identify the train robber was a fool’s errand.

“It’s him,” the lawman said. “I had the poster made up right here in town. Charlie over at the Eagle Pass Dispatch isn’t much of a printer. Fact is,” he said, looking askance at the poster, “he’s not much of an artist, either. You shoulda seen how he illustrated the story about Macomber’s two-headed calf.”

He fished around in the center drawer of his desk and took out a sheet of paper. With quick, sure scratches, occasionally dipping his pen in an ink bottle, the marshal produced a document proclaiming that the bearer was entitled to the reward.

“Take this on over to the bank when it opens in the morning.” He shoved it across the desk. “Banker Jarvis has enough money in the town account to pay you, unless he’s gone on a bender again. He can drink up twenty-five dollars in whiskey so fast it’d make your head spin.” The marshal chuckled. “It surely does make his spin like a top.”

Ike stared at the simple IOU. A week or two back he would have killed for so much money. It didn’t come close to paying off his debt in Houston, but it was more than enough to keep him alive for a month.

“What’s wrong? You don’t read?”

“I can read.” Ike felt an ornery streak. “I don’t think my boss’d like it if I claimed a reward.”

“Now, why’s that?” The marshal squinted at him, wondering if he had been out in the sun too long. Money was money.

Ike silently took out the wallet with the brass badge. He opened it so the marshal got a good look.

“You’re a ways out of your jurisdiction. You coming this way to confer with Judge Bean?”

“I have another job to do. For Judge Parker.”

“Do tell. All the way here? West Texas is a far piece from Arkansas. And Indian Territory.”

Ike fished around in his pocket and pulled out the cloth bag. He dropped it on the desk.

“This is the loot Buchanan stole. There’s a ruby necklace in there the lady will want to get back. She said it was a family heirloom.”

The lawman took out the necklace and held it up, letting the ruby pendant spin slowly. He tucked it back into the bag and poked through the rest of the contents.

“You can telegraph up the line and see if any of the passengers can be told their belongings are back here.” Ike felt a pang. Having Lily see him return the booty would have been nice, but the idea of losing himself across the border was a more sensible road to travel.

“Back here? What do you mean, Deputy? The train’s not come in yet.”

Ike stood straighter and stared in disbelief.

“But I was out in the desert most of the day. How’s that possible?”

“Can’t rightly say, but there hasn’t been a train from San Antonio through in two days. Maybe the engine broke down or they had to deal with a section of faulty rails. The line’s newly laid, you know. Or maybe you don’t, being from Indian Territory and all.”

Before Ike could say a word, an earsplitting whistle cut through the quiet twilight. On the heels of the whistle came the screech of steel wheels grinding against railroad tracks.

“That’ll be the train,” the lawman said. “I’m in luck.” He scooped up the cloth bag and started for the door. He paused and looked back at Ike. “You rooted to the ground? Come along.”

“The horse,” Ike said, befuddled. “Buchanan’s horse. If that’s the train I can get back on and won’t need it.”

“I’ll sell it to give the mangy cayuse a decent burial. The potter’s field is purty near full, so you’d be doing Eagle Pass a favor with your charity. Are you coming?” He pointed out the door.

Ike hurried to keep up with the man’s bandy legs. They might be short and bowed, but they moved fast. Before he got to the depot, he saw the plume of smoke boiling upward into the night sky. The smell of hot metal and soot had never been sweeter for him.

He took the steps up to the platform two at a time. The marshal was already talking to the station agent. When the conductor jumped off and ran to the pair, the lawman held up his hand to stop the torrent of explanation. The marshal waved Ike to join them.

“This here’s the reason I have this,” the lawman said, holding up the cloth bag. “You have a lady aboard who lost this bauble to the robber?” He let the ruby pendant swing to and fro.

Ike cringed at the shrill squeal of joy coming from the direction of the train. The woman saw her jewelry and pushed others out of the way to get to the marshal. She took it, examined it and then planted a big wet juicy kiss on his stubbled cheek.

“Now, little lady, that’s plenty reward, but I didn’t do anything to retrieve your stolen jewelry. This gent here’s a deputy Federal marshal. Come on over. Maybe she’ll plant one on you, too.”

“You!” The woman shrieked again and rushed to him. “I knew you’d track that scoundrel down and bring him to justice.” She kissed Ike, too, to his embarrassment since the passengers were leaning out the train windows and watching, wondering what was going on.

The marshal cleared his throat. For such a short man he had a tall voice. He began telling the story that Ike had given him. Ike had to disengage from the grateful woman and stop the marshal before he rambled on too much farther. He regretted his moment’s weakness in boasting of being Augustus Yarrow, though he’d never given that name. Lying about being a deputy was bad enough, especially since he had invoked Hanging Judge Parker’s name.

“Please, take all the credit yourself,” he whispered to the lawman. “I’m not supposed to let anyone know who I am, what I’m doing, that is—”

Ike felt as if he had stepped off a tall cliff. Martin Schofield and his henchmen stepped off the Pullman onto the platform. They exchanged a few words, then Schofield walked over fast, looking all official.

“What’s this, Marshal? You’ve recovered my passengers’ money already? You are a miracle worker, sir. A true milagro.”

The marshal looked quizzically at Ike, then said, “I had a passel of help, Mr. Schofield. I told you when you came here a month back to cut the ribbon opening up the Piedras Negras spur that your trains were safe.”

“You can return my passengers’ money,” Schofield said, as if bestowing a great favor on the man. “But you were here in Eagle Pass. How’d you come by it?”

“I was right here in town, sir, I was. The varmint that robbed the train’s dead, and I have a good idea who his accomplice was. But it’s this gent here you need to congratulate.”

He pushed Ike forward.

“A minute, will you?” Ike took out the document declaring him to be owed the money and pressed it into the marshal’s hand. “Here. See that someone deserving gets the reward.”

“Who might that be?”

“A church, an orphanage, anybody,” Ike said frantically. “Tell me who and I’ll take it to them right now.” All he wanted was to put as much distance between him and the railroad president as possible. It was dark on the platform, but Schofield would recognize him in an instant if he ever caught a clear view.

If Schofield didn’t recognize him, Ike worried that Kinchloe or Smitty might. They stared hard at him from some distance away, then put their heads together as if trying to decide where they’d seen him before. Shadows and turning away hid his identity from them only so long.

Ike moved around to keep his face in darkness as much as possible, but several bright lights hung along the platform lit up the area, almost matching daylight.

“Don’t worry your head none,” the marshal said. “I’ll see that it’s taken care of. And the horse and tack, too.”

“You were a passenger on the train, sir?” Schofield came over and looked hard at Ike. “A passenger said you’d called out that you were a lawman. Is that true?” Schofield recognized him. Ike knew it from the hardness in the man’s jaw and steely gaze.

“No, not at all. I tried to make him give up. Lester Buchanan’s the robber’s name. I didn’t want to risk hitting any of the passengers with a bullet or two.” Ike knew he babbled, to no avail. His bogus identity had been accepted by too many—including Martin Schofield.

“It didn’t work,” the woman with the ruby necklace said. She pressed close to Ike and took his arm, squeezing it so hard she cut off the circulation. “He was so brave. He saved my life. I am sure of it. You should give him a reward.” She looked Schofield over from head to toe. “You are obviously an important man.”

“He’s the owner of the railroad,” Kinchloe said.

“Then you can give him a substantial reward. A lifetime pass on your line, perhaps.”

“Yes, a lifetime pass,” Schofield said ominously. The woman missed the implication that it would be a short life. Ike didn’t.

“I don’t need anything,” Ike murmured. He tried to disengage from the woman’s iron grip but couldn’t.

“That’s mighty generous of you, risking your life, tracking down the robber, then returning the loot. The least you can do is ride to your destination in my personal car.” Schofield flashed Ike a feral grin. Go into the Pullman and vanish forever. Ike knew that was the plan. Get him out of sight of the passengers, and within seconds, he’d be in a grave alongside Lester Buchanan.

Or tossed into the desert from the Pullman, never to be seen again by anyone but lizards and snakes. His fate was sealed if he ever let Schofield cut him from the herd.

Ike started to say he had reached his destination. Being on foot in Eagle Pass was better than riding with a man who had tried to get him lynched. How long would it be until Schofield draped a wire loop around his neck and told him to keep up with the train? Or Kinchloe simply gunned him down?

“My son, the hero!”

The high-pitched cry caught everyone’s attention. Ike started to wave Lily away, but it was too late. The actress knew how to make an entrance and how to draw the audience’s notice. She bustled off the car and rushed to him. He wasn’t sure how she did it, but she wormed her way between him and the appreciative passenger with the ruby necklace. Lily clung to him and then stood on tiptoe to plant a kiss on his cheek.

She moved about, as if losing her balance to keep her head between his face and Schofield’s steely gaze. It was a worthy effort, but the cat was out of the bag.

“My boy. Isn’t he about the finest, bravest boy in the whole wide world? Why, when he was a wee one, hardly more than six, he saved the neighbor’s dog from a well. Let me tell you all about it.” She turned toward Schofield and squinted hard. “Are we riding in another car? I can tell you every single thing my boy’s done. This isn’t the first time he—”

“I understand why he thought it was better to face down a robber with a gun and then chase him across the desert,” Schofield said. “I have to see about the repairs to the engine.” He edged away.

Lily called after him about the time “her boy” had found a cow that had knocked down a fence and wandered off.

“Well, he did!” she called after Schofield and his men as they hurried toward the engine.

“You saved me,” Ike said softly. Driving off Schofield only postponed their showdown. For now, that was good enough. “You’re quite an actress.” He reached up and pressed a bit of putty back onto her cheek. “But you look like you’re melting.”

“It was hot in the car all afternoon,” she said, “and I haven’t had a chance to repair the makeup.”

Ike considered not getting back on the train, but then he saw the crowd of people gathering on the platform. The marshal talked loudly enough with a man to signal that this was the town newspaper editor. If he stayed in Eagle Pass, Ike had more notoriety to deal with than he wanted. Thanks to Lily, riding on the train gave some safety when it came to Schofield and his men.

He swallowed hard when he saw Schofield talking with a pair of men standing beside the engine. They kept glancing in his direction. If he stayed in Eagle Pass, Schofield’s hired killers would take care of him. As unhealthy as it was, getting back aboard the train gave him some small reprieve if he stayed among the other passengers.

Safety in numbers? That was his only hope now. And it wasn’t much of one.

It was mighty risky, but Ike had tasted what it meant to be a deputy. There wasn’t any way he could tangle with the railroad owner and his gunmen to arrest them, but flashing the brass badge had worked a miracle here. If he found out what Schofield was up to, he might be able to convince another lawman of a serious crime, a real one, and get some satisfaction seeing the railroad baron and his henchmen arrested. He owed the man something for whipping up a lynch mob back in San Antonio.

“Let’s get good seats while the others are out stretching their legs,” he told Lily. She locked her arm with his, and they boarded the train. In twenty minutes, the engine began creaking and groaning and pulling the weapons-laden cars along to an unknown destiny. But Ike intended to find out.