Moonshine Massacre

Chapter 31

The citizens of Cottonwood were coming out again all over town now that the shooting was over. The undertaker showed up with his wagon and a couple of helpers to load the bodies of the dead deputies, but before he could take charge of the corpses, Marshal Coleman commandeered him and his wagon to transport the wounded deputy down to Doc Berger’s.

“Then you can come back and deal with this bunch, Tully,” Coleman told him.

Sam and the marshal returned to the jail. They found Hannah sitting in a ladder-back chair across the room from Porter, holding the loaded shotgun on him. Porter had come to and was sitting up with his back propped against the wall. Blood from his broken, swollen nose was smeared across the lower half of his face. He lifted hate-filled eyes toward Sam and Coleman when they came in.

“I told him this scattergun has hair triggers,” Hannah said. “I believe for a minute he thought about trying to find out if I was telling the truth.”

Coleman grunted. “Better be glad you didn’t, Porter. I know that gal of mine. She’d have splattered you all over this office if you’d tried anything.” He trained his revolver on Porter. “On your feet. I’m gonna take particular pleasure in lockin’ you up.”

Sam had picked up his gun and Matt’s in the street outside. He placed Porter’s Colt on the desk and covered the crooked marshal with the other two as Porter climbed to his feet. Sam and Coleman marched Porter into the cell block and put him in the one vacant cell. The three Kane brothers watched wide-eyed from the other cells. The uproar in town tonight had finally succeeded in shutting them up. No more curses or complaints came from them.

One of them smiled, though, and said, “From the sound of things, you’ve had your hands full tonight, Marshal. It’d sure make life easier for you if you just let the three of us go.”

“I’ll tell you what I told that cousin of yours—it ain’t up to me. When the circuit judge comes through, he’ll decide what to do with you.”

Another of the brothers sneered. “Cimarron ain’t never gonna let it get that far.”

“He’s already tried twice to get you boys out of jail,” Coleman replied with a shake of his head. “You’re still here.”

“Your time’s comin’, old man! Your time’s comin’!”

Sam and Coleman left the cell block, slamming the heavy door behind them to muffle the sound of the shouted threats.

The marshal’s shoulders suddenly slumped, and he looked even older than his years. He sank down in the chair behind the desk and heaved a sigh.

“I’m gettin’ too old to be fightin’ two wars in one night,” he declared.

Sam holstered his gun and stuck Matt’s Colt behind his belt until he got a chance to return the weapon to his blood brother. “Sorry, Marshal,” he said as he perched a hip on a corner of the desk. “If I hadn’t had my hands full with Bickford and those other deputies down by the creek, I would have been here to help you fight off the Kane bunch.”

“You showed up before the ruckus was over.”

“And brought even more trouble raining down on you,” Sam pointed out.

Hannah had gone behind the desk to rest a hand on her father’s shoulder. She shook her head and said, “You did no such thing, Sam. Someone had to stop Porter and Bickford from doing those awful things. I’m glad you found out what terrible men they are.”

“Speaking of Bickford,” Sam said as he straightened, “I’d better get back down to those prison wagons and see if he’s still there. He may have regained consciousness and taken off for the tall and uncut by now.”

“Good riddance,” Coleman said. “Once we spread the word about what him and Porter were doin’, legitimate lawmen all over the state will be lookin’ for him. He won’t get away, and he’ll pay for what he’s done.”

“I hope you’re right,” Sam said. “If Matt comes by here, tell him where I’ve gone, would you?”

“Sure thing, son.”

Sam had just reached the boardwalk in front of the office when he heard Hannah say his name softly behind him. He stopped and turned to face her as she stepped outside and eased the door closed behind her.

“Sam, there’s no way I can thank you for what you and Matt have done,” she said. “You saved Dad and me tonight, not just once but twice.”

Sam shook his head. “I’m not sure Kane and his bunch would have ever gotten into the jail. It looked like the two of you were forted up pretty good.”

“But we were also badly outnumbered,” Hannah pointed out. “There’s no way we could have held them off for long, and you know it.”

Sam shrugged.

“Then that business with Porter,” Hannah went on. A little shudder passed through her. “He’s an evil man, Sam. I could feel the evil coming from him when he had hold of me.”

“I can’t argue with that. I’m glad he’s locked up where he belongs. With any luck, he’ll be behind bars until it’s time for his date with the hangman.” Sam frowned. “Sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have said—”

“Don’t worry about offending my delicate sensibilities, Sam. I’m a lawman’s daughter, remember? I’ve seen hangings before. And from what I’ve heard tonight, Porter deserves a hang-rope as much or more than anyone I’ve run across.”

Sam smiled. “Your father was right. You are a little bloodthirsty.”

“Only in a good cause,” she said with a laugh. Then she stepped closer to him and whispered, “Sam…”

His arms went around her as she came up on her toes and lifted her mouth to his. She leaned against him as they kissed. He felt the tiny tremblings in her muscles and knew that some of it was in reaction to all the violence she had gone through tonight.

Some of it, but not all of it.

When they finally broke the kiss, he said, “I have to go see about Bickford.”

“And I’d better get back inside and make sure that Dad’s all right,” she said. “He’s not as young as he once was, you know.” She smiled up at him. “We’ll take this up again some other time, right?”

“I reckon you can count on that,” Sam told her.

After cleaning and examining Red Mike Loomis’s wound and checking the young man’s condition, Dr. Berger emerged from his examining room and told Matt, “I think young Loomis will recover. It appears that the bullet missed any vital organs and did only a limited amount of damage. The blood loss is the main problem. With rest and proper care, he should be all right.”

Matt nodded in relief. “Thanks, Doc. He seems like a fine hombre, so I’m glad to hear it.”

One of the townsmen who had carried Mike to the doctor’s house looked out the front window and announced, “Looks like you got more work comin’, Doc. The undertaker’s wagon just pulled up outside, and they’re unloadin’ somebody.”

Berger wiped his bloody hands on a cloth and muttered, “Why is the undertaker bringing someone to me?”

The answer quickly became obvious as the men with the wagon carried in the wounded deputy. Berger told them to take the man into the other examining room, then glanced at Matt and added, “I hope that’s the last of it tonight. You’re not planning to shoot anyone else, are you, Mr. Bodine?”

“Hey, I didn’t shoot Red Mike,” Matt pointed out.

“What about this newest patient?”

“Well…it was hard to tell, the way so much lead was flyin’ around. I reckon I might have.”

A moment later, the front door of the house burst open again and the liveryman, Ike Loomis, rushed in. “Somebody told me my boy got shot! Is he here?”

“Yes, he’s here, Ike,” Berger said, “and I think he’s going to be all right. So you can tone down that bellowing, if you please.”

“Thank the Lord!” Loomis exclaimed fervently. “When I heard he was in the middle of that ruckus, I was afraid he was a goner! Can I see him?”

Berger pointed at the door of the examining room. “Right in there. But you’ll have to be quiet. I don’t want him upset.”

Loomis snatched his hat off his thatch of rusty gray hair and held it in front of him as he nodded humbly. “Sure thing, Doc,” he promised.

Since everything seemed to be under control here, as soon as Loomis had gone in to see his son, Matt told Berger, “Take good care of Red Mike, and if you need any money, let me know.”

The doctor frowned skeptically as he looked at Matt’s rough range garb.

“I know, I look like a saddle tramp,” Matt said with a grin, “but I’m good for the dinero. You got my word on that, Doc.”

“Very well. I doubt if it will be necessary, though. Ike Loomis is a pretty successful businessman.”

Maybe more successful than the medico knew, Matt mused as he thought about the hidden saloon in the old livery stable.

He left the doctor’s house and started along the street. Sometime during all the excitement, his hat had flown off, and he didn’t know where it was. He was looking for it when he spotted Sam walking away from the marshal’s office. Matt angled across the street to intercept him.

“Keep an eye out for my Stetson,” he told his blood brother. “Reckon I lost it somewhere durin’ that ruckus.”

“We can look for it later,” Sam said. “Right now I’m on my way down to the creek to check on Bickford. If he’s still there, he needs to be locked up along with Porter.”

“How come you didn’t just tie him up so he couldn’t run off?”

Sam grimaced. “I was a mite busy at the time, because all hell broke loose here in town. I didn’t know what was going on, but I figured with that much shooting, I ought to take a hand.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you did, I guess. But Bickford’s liable to be long gone.”

“I know.”

“I’ll come with you,” Matt said. “Just in case he’s still there and itchin’ to start some more trouble.”

That wasn’t the case, though. Just as Sam had feared, Calvin Bickford was gone, although the two deputies Sam had knocked out and tied up were still there and definitely unhappy about their predicament. Bickford came in for a large share of their ire because he hadn’t take the time to free them before grabbing one of the horses and fleeing. Matt and Sam ignored their complaints.

“Might be able to trail Bickford when the sun comes up,” Matt suggested.

“Maybe.” Sam went over to the first prison wagon and called through the window, “Hey, Barnabas, you still in there?”

The reply came back instantly. “Where the hell would I go?” Barnabas demanded. “I’m locked up in here, remember?”

“And that’s where you’re going to stay for one more night,” Sam said. “Tomorrow we’ll get everything straightened out.”

“You’re gonna leave us in here?” Barnabas protested. “It ain’t right. We ain’t lawbreakers.”

“We’ll see about that,” Sam promised. “And we’ll make sure all the wounded men get the medical care they need, too.” He paused. “Did you happen to see which way Bickford went?”

“Can’t see much of anything from in here,” Barnabas said. “What happened to Porter?”

“He’s locked up in jail where he belongs.”

“Well, thank God for that! What about them deputies?”

“Most of them are dead.”

“Can’t say as I’m sad to hear it. They might not’ve been quite as bad as Porter and Bickford, but they were a pretty low-down bunch, too.”

“We’ll get you out of there first thing in the morning,” Sam assured him. “In the meantime, try to get some rest.”

“Sure.” Barnabas hesitated, then said, “Thanks, mister. If it wasn’t for what you did, some of us wouldn’t have made it much longer.”

“Somebody had to put a stop to what Porter and Bickford were doing,” Sam said.

“Yeah, but it wasn’t just somebody. It was you. That makes you a hero in my book.”

Sam shook his head. He had never thought of himself as a hero, or Matt, either, for that matter. They were just a couple of hombres who did what needed to be done and dealt with trouble as they came to it.

Which was all too often, Sam reflected. But for tonight, at least, it seemed to be over.