Ride Tall, Hang High Page 2

  Chapter TWO

  Willy Boy let the men settle down in the house. They had no blankets, no bedrolls or camping gear and no food. They’d hit the first ranch they came to and pick up needed supplies—courtesy of the rancher.

  When the sprawled men slept, Willy Boy took a Spencer Carbine and a box of .52 caliber shells and climbed into the bam. The haymow door had been left swung down and he sat there 15 feet off the ground staring out the opening. It was a good lookout spot since he could see halfway back to town in that flat part of the Texas panhandle.

  He grinned to himself thinking about the night’s work. Hell, he hadn’t asked to be put in that damn little jail or to be tried and convicted of that damn dumb killing. So he had to get out. He had always done just about what he needed to do.

  He chuckled about pretending to be hanged. If that damn deputy wasn’t so dumb he’d be alive. He should have used a knife and cut down the shirt rope. That would have accomplished the same thing. No, he had to come in close and lift.

  And then the six of them rode away on those borrowed horses. He didn’t expect a posse before daylight, if then. First they’d have to try to find some tracks. They could have gone in any of four directions. Should they push on and find a ranch and some food and gear next? Willy Boy thought about it a moment and decided. He liked to do everything quick. Yeah, they’d find a ranch.

  Hell, he had his own gang now. The Professor was a cool one, good with a gun and smart, smartest man in the bunch. He was looking at 20 years in prison. He’d be with the group forever. Good old Gunner was just a bit slow in his thinking, but he was Willy Boy’s slave for life. Just took one or two times sticking up for Gunner and the big man now prayed on the ground where Willy Boy walked.

  Johnny Joe Williams, the gambler. He’d stick with them at least until they got out of Texas. Johnny Joe was a gambler and right now this was a better hand than the ten year sentence the judge as well as told him he’d get.

  The question marks were Eagle and the Mex. Eagle would come in damn handy out in the open and on the run. He was full blooded Comanche, would know this country and how to live off the land if they had to. He knew the Indian was kill-mad at the army. His family had tried to surrender to an army company and they waded in and killed everyone in sight. Eagle was only ten or twelve at the time and they hauled him off to a mission school where he learned English and how to read and write.

  Eagle would want to go after Able Troop in the Fourteenth Cavalry Regiment sooner or later.

  Juan Romero, the Mex. Now there could be a problem. He was in jail for a simple knifing. Juan had never ridden the owlhoot trail, never been on the run from the law. But he would come around. Now he could be charged with murder; that would keep him in line for a time. He could be valuable if they decided to swing down into Mexico to outrun some posse.

  Being raised in western Missouri, Willy Boy’s Spanish lingo wasn’t too good. Juan would be invaluable down there. For just a moment Willy Boy thought about his father. His fist drew the six-gun from his belt and he waved it at the bam roof. His fingers went white on the gun butt as he gripped it.

  "Goddamn the bastard!" Willy Boy said softly. "I’m gonna find the sombitch and kill him slow, like the Comanches do. He’ll be sorry as hell he ever gunned down my pa!"

  The damn bounty hunter had blown Hartley Lambier right out of his shoes as soon as he opened the door to their little farm house. Never a howdy, not a question about what his name was, or nothing. Just a sawed off shotgun blast from four feet.

  The tall, thin Texan had stormed into the house and looked at his victim’s face and his bright red hair and he swore. He’d killed the wrong man. He looked around the cabin and saw Willy Boy who was nearly fourteen. The bounty hunter shook his head and lifted his sawed off scatter gun and fired the second round.

  Willy Boy had been fast even then. He saw it coming and dove behind an old dresser which took the slugs, then busted out a window and ran screaming and bleeding into the night where the killer could never find him. He’d seen the bounty hunter around the little town of

  Leaverville. Willy Boy heard tell he was a famous bounty man called Deeds Conover.

  There were only he and his pa on the little farm. His ma had been taken two years before by the consumption. Willy Boy had run half the night to be sure he was away from Deeds Conover. The next day Willy Boy came back and got his dad’s old .44 and his gunbelt and strapped them on.

  From that day to this he’d been looking for Deeds Conover. But he’d had trouble since the first. In Kansas City a drunk tried to rob him and Willy Joe shot him, killed the man and they arrested him. It wasn’t right, the drunk had a gun too and was grabbing for it.

  A week later, Willy Boy pretended to be sick with a blue face and no breath. He broke out of jail when the doctor came to help him. In the process he killed a guard, took his gun and gun belt and his horse and lit out of town for Texas.

  That was three years ago, and he hadn’t been in jail since, until he hit Oak Park. Twice he’d been on the trail of Deeds Conover, but each time the man moved fast and got away. Maybe the third time would be the charm.

  Willy Boy stood and stared back toward the little town of Oak Park. He couldn’t see the lights, nor could he hear any horses pounding their way along the trail. They’d wait until morning now, Willy guessed. By then Willy Boy and his gang would be gone. He looked at the moon, then the big dipper and figured the time. Maybe two more hours to sunrise. He could sleep in the saddle. The important thing now was to get moving. He wanted to be properly set up before he had to stand and fight against the posse he was sure would be coming after

  them come daylight.

  Juan should know where there was another rancher around here. He was local.

  Willy Boy grinned when he thought of the way he had engineered the jail break. He was good. He could do it all. He had five men to back him now and nothing could stop him from finding and killing Deeds Conover.

  He wasn’t the least bit sleepy. He knew he was running on the excitement of the break. Sometimes he had stayed up without sleep for three full days, and he had been as sharp and quick the third day as the first.

  With the first touches of light in the sky he went and took one long last look toward town, saw nothing, and crawled down to rouse the men.

  The Professor was sitting up watching the dawn when Willy Boy walked in. He smoked a thick, brown cigar and waved.

  "So far, no pursuit. I’d guess about noon. "

  Willy Boy nodded, shook the other four awake.

  He squatted down in front of Juan. "We need a farm or a ranch where we can get some food, maybe some more guns. Any ideas?"

  "The Galloways got a ranch about six, seven miles north. "

  "They friends of yours?"

  "No. Wouldn’t know me from anybody. "

  "They have a cookshack and horses?"

  "Run about three hands, usually. Thirty, forty horses. "

  "Let’s ride. "

  They looked toward town, then rode out, each man on a different trail as they worked across the grasslands heading north. A tracker would have a hard time figuring

  out what happened to all six sets of tracks.

  They rode for an hour and a half, keeping a watch over their shoulders, but no dust cloud showed behind them that could herald a posse. When they topped a small rise, Juan pulled up.

  "That’s the spread. This family . . . these are good people, don’t have much, struggling to make a living. ""Take it easy, relax, amigo, ’’Willy Boy said. "We aren’t a bunch of mad killers here. We’ll explain what we need and promise to send payment for it when we can. I think they’ll understand. "

  When they rode in, a man came out of a small adobe ranch house with a double barreled shotgun over his arm, not aimed at them, just handy.

  "Morning, gents," the rancher called. He was a tall man, thin and with a drooping moustache.

  Willy Boy was out front and he nodded. "Morning, yourself. We was won
dering maybe you could help us out. We’re getting ready to travel cross country and we don’t have enough supplies. Could we buy some victuals off you?"

  The rancher eyed them a minute and shrugged. "Don’t have a lot, but guess we could spare you some. New potatoes about due so we can use up the old ones. Got a sack of beans, and butchered out a steer last night. The wife was gonna can most of it, but we can spare a quarter. "

  "We thank you kindly, sir," the Professor said. "A bit down on our supplies right now. Not a good place to try to live off the fruits of the land. "

  "Stand down, men, and I’ll have the wife pour some coffee. Always got a hot pot on the kitchen stove. " They had coffee and met his wife and two tow headed

  kids, then went to the root cellar and got fifty pounds of potatoes in a sack, and ten pounds of dried beans in an old flour sack.

  "Could you use a pound or two of good coffee beans?" the rancher asked.

  "Now that would be real neighborly of you," Willy Boy said.

  The rancher looked up. "I reckon you got your own grinder. "

  "Had one," the Professor said. "Dang thing broke on us about two days back, had to junk it along the trail. "

  "I got a spare one I usually send on the chuck wagon. Them beans won’t do you no good without grinding. "

  An hour later they had eaten slabs of fresh bread with country butter and crab apple butter on them and downed the last of the coffee. TTiey had the food latched onto the back of saddles, and all the men mounted up but Willy Joe.

  "Now, sir, what is the cost of all these goods?" Willy Boy asked.

  Frank Galloway pulled at his jaw a minute, then shook his head. "Don’t righdy think you gents owe me a thing. In another month most of the spuds would be rotted. And the beans I would have taken to the church bazaar for the building fund. The beef don’t cost cause I had to kill it when the dang fool steer broke a hind leg. I’d say we’re about even. "

  Willy Boy frowned. "I don’t take charity, Mr. Galloway," Willy Boy said stretching up to all of his five-feet six height.

  Galloway chuckled. "No, don’t righdy guess you do. Let’s say if you have a spare five dollar bill over the next two or three months, you mail it to me. Name’s

  Frank Galloway, Oak Park, Texas. I’ll find it at the post office down at the general store. You boys have a good ride now, hear?"

  Willy Boy held out his hand. "We thank you kindly. Fact is, we are a bit short right now. But we’ll pay you. " He shook the man’s huge hand again, then stepped into the saddle, waved and led the five men on north.

  When they were out of earshot, the Professor rode up beside Willy Boy.

  "Best hand I ever seen bluffed, Willy Boy," he said. "No bluff. I would have signed a paper for him, an I.O.U. paper. "

  "Then you aim to pay him?"

  "Damn right. He was straight with us. First damn five dollar bill we steal. I’m gonna send to him in an envelope. "

  Juan came riding up beside him. He was grinning. "That gringo, I know him and he knows me. ""What?" Willy Boy asked.

  "Sure. I didn’t know that was his name. He was on the jury that convicted me. He knew who I was right away. He knew I’m supposed to be in jail. "

  The Professor frowned. "Put a black suit on him, comb his hair and he does come familiar. I think he was on my jury, too. "

  Willy Boy laughed. "Be damned. So he must have figured we busted out of jail. He also knew he was outgunned six to one and didn’t want to die for the county courthouse or the sheriff. "

  The Professor chuckled. "About the size of it. You still going to send him that five dollar bill?""Damned right. I’m a man of my word. I gave the man my word so he gets the fiver as soon as I can steal one. "

  A short time later, Willy Boy found a small rise and he brought the group to a stop. They stared back to the south the way they had come and on to the area where Oak Park, Texas, should lay.

  "Nobody coming yet," Gunner said.

  Willy Boy looked at him and nodded. "Not yet, but soon. What do most men do when they try to get away from a posse, Professor?"

  "Run as damn fast as they can. "

  "Right, that’s why most of them get caught. We’re not going to run. We’re going to fight, only the difference is we’re going to pick the time and place, at least the place. That’s what I’m hunting now. I want to find an ideal spot where we can lure that posse into a trap, and then cut it to pieces. "

  "They know that we’re well armed—three shotguns, three rifles and handguns," the Professor said.

  "Sure they know, but they still have to come after us. That sheriff can’t let six men escape from his jail and not make a hell of a big try to get us back. If he don’t, he’s not going to get elected next time. He’ll be here. All we need to do is find the spot and let him track us to it. "

  "So where’s the spot?" Eagle asked.

  Willy Boy turned to the Comanche. "Eagle, you’re our outdoor expert, where is the best place for an ambush around here?"

  Eagle stood in his stirrups and stared around the land. At last he pointed to the west. "Some small hills over there two or three miles. We find a little valley and build a camp in it, then get on the sides of the ridges and attack them when they storm into the camp. We have a good crossfire. "

  "Eagle, damn glad you decided to come along. Any

  idea where the Cavalry Fourteenth Regiment is posted?" Eagle looked up sharply. He shook his head. "Don’t worry, my new friend. We’ll find them before we’re through. Right now let’s go over to those hills and look at the lay of the land. "

  A half hour later Willy Joe grinned. He sat on his horse on a ridge 50 yards high. Another one about the same size loomed across the narrow valley. Between them a small stream flowed bordered by a strip of brush and a few live oaks and large pecan trees. There was plenty of room where they could set up a camp.

  "Damn, we don’t have any blanket rolls," Willy Boy said. He shrugged. "We’ll get some first store we come by, whether we have any cash or not. "

  Willy Boy looked at the other five who nodded. "Looks good," the Professor said.

  "Seems made to order, but I wish we had four more rifles," Johnny Joe said.

  "Let’s get down there and make a camp just tempting as all hell," Willy Boy ordered. They all rode down into the valley.