Buzzard's Bluff. William W. Johnstone
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obliged, Lem,” Ben said. He turned to leave because that told him the two outlaws weren’t planning to stay in Navasota long.
He paused when Wooten asked, “What did they do?”
“Held up a stagecoach, killed a passenger, and wounded the guard,” Ben answered.
“Anybody famous?”
“Nope. ’Preciate it, Lem.”
They wasted no more time. In the saddle again, they walked their horses down the middle of a surprisingly busy street. As Ben led them past one saloon and then another without stopping to question anyone, Billy finally had to ask if it might be a good idea to check them out. “We’ll check the Texas Rose first,” Ben answered him. “That’s at the other end of town, and it’s the likeliest place they’d stop. It seems to be the favorite for drifters and outlaws. The question is, how long did they stop there? And sometimes the folks at the Texas Rose suddenly suffer from loss of memory when a lawman asks a question.” He was hoping Kelly and Queen were in no hurry and had maybe stayed long enough to shorten the distance between them. It would depend on how much they drank and whether or not they availed themselves of the opportunity to spend some time with the soiled doves that worked the saloon. He got his answer before they reached the saloon because they saw the two horses they had described to Lem Wooten tied out in front of the saloon.
“Looks like we’re in luck,” Billy said when he saw their horses. “It ain’t that late in the afternoon. Maybe they’ve had time to get a little drunk, though. Make it easier to get the jump on ’em.”
“It’ d make it a whole lot easier if we knew what they looked like,” Ben commented. “You say you ain’t ever seen ’em, and I sure as hell ain’t, so we’re gonna have to go in and find ’em first. Let’s cover up these badges, so we don’t start a riot as soon as we walk in. We wouldn’t know which ones to chase after, if more’n two ran out the back. If we knew what they looked like, one of us could go in the front, and the other one in the back.”
“I reckon to be sure,” Billy suggested, “we could just wait ’em out and catch ’em when they come out and get on their horses.”
“There ain’t no tellin’ how long they’ll be in that saloon,” Ben said. “Why don’t we just walk on in kinda easy-like and look the room over? I’ve talked to the bartender here more than a few times, and he’s always been pretty straight with me. Maybe he’ll point ’em out for us. If that don’t work, we can just take their horses down to the stable and wait for them to come get ’em.” Billy couldn’t suggest anything better, and like Ben, he preferred not to wait for Queen and Kelly to come out, so they went in the saloon.
“Ben Savage,” the bartender stated when they walked up to the bar.
“Cal,” Ben returned. “You got a right smart crowd here for this time of day. He turned and looked over the crowded room. Back to the bartender, he said, “This is Billy Turner. He’s down from Fort Worth to find a couple of killers. Billy, meet Cal Devine.”
“Who you lookin’ for?” Cal asked.
“Big Foot Sam Kelly and Jack Queen,” Ben answered. “Just point ’em out, and we’ll try to arrest ’em with as little fuss as we can, so we don’t interrupt your business too much.”
“I don’t know anybody by those names,” Cal said at once. “Hell, Ben, you know I don’t ask every stranger his name. The only thing I ask is what they want to drink. So I’ll ask you and Billy, whaddaya want to drink?”
Ben smiled at him. “I reckon I could handle one shot of corn whiskey, even though I’m workin’. How ’bout you, Billy?”
“I’ll have the same,” Billy answered. Like Ben, he hoped if they bought a drink, Cal might feel more cooperative.
Ben watched Cal pour a couple of whiskeys, then suggested, “You don’t know anybody by those names, but maybe you can point out the two strangers that belong to that flea-bitten gray and the paint horse at the rail.”
“Damn it, Ben, I don’t look to see who’s ridin’ what when somebody walks in the door,” Cal complained, obviously feeling a certain amount of loyalty to his customers, even if they were killers.
“I was hopin’ we could do this quietly,” Ben said, “instead of closin’ down the bar while we question everybody in here.”
Cal paused to release a sigh of frustration. “All right, I still don’t know any names, but the skinny feller settin’ at that table with Eunice is one of ’em. His partner, a big feller, is upstairs with Nell.”
“What room?” Ben asked and was told her room was the second door on the right. He looked at Billy then and asked, “Up or down?”
Billy answered him with a sly smile. “I’ll let you take the big one upstairs, since you’re more likely his size. I’ll take the skinny one.”
“I shoulda said we’d flip a coin,” Ben replied. “But at least, you can pay for the whiskey.”
“My pleasure,” Billy said with another grin. They tossed the whiskey shots down and Billy paid Cal while Ben headed for the stairs and the rooms on the second floor.
CHAPTER 2
After paying for their drinks, Billy walked casually back past a couple of card games in progress to a table next to the one where Eunice and the skinny outlaw were sitting. He took a seat and waited for what he expected to happen upstairs. Ben, meanwhile, went to the second door from the top of the stairs and quietly tried the doorknob. It was locked, so he politely tapped on the door. There was a long pause with no response, so he tapped on the door again, this time a little bit harder. Again, there was a pause until finally, the woman called out. “Who is it?”
“Fellow downstairs sent up a bottle of whiskey, Nell,” Ben answered.
He could hear some conversation between Nell and her customer, then finally, he heard the key turning in the lock. A moment later, the door opened just enough to allow a bottle of whiskey to pass through and a curious woman’s face to peer out. It was obvious she didn’t recognize the voice. “Who the hell are you?” she asked when she didn’t see a bottle, only moments before Ben pushed the door wide, moving her backward in the process.
“Best sit yourself down on that chair in the corner, Miss,” Ben ordered. “Your lover, here, is under arrest.” Her eyes opened wide when she saw the Colt six-gun in his hand and she backed quickly out of the way.
“What tha...” was as much as Big Foot Sam got out before he started to reach for his gun hanging on the back of a chair close to the bed.
“That would be your last and biggest mistake,” Ben warned him and cocked the hammer back on the Colt. “You’re under arrest for the murder of a passenger on the stage you and your partner robbed.” He pulled his coat aside far enough to let him see the star he wore on his vest. Kelly hesitated, half off the bed, still weighing his chances. “It’s up to you,” Ben urged. “You’ll be a helluva lot more trouble to take to jail than it would be to bury you, so it don’t make any difference to me.”
Convinced that the Ranger meant what he said, Kelly sat back down on the bed. “You ain’t lookin’ for me,” he claimed. “That was Jack that shot that feller.”
“That right?” Ben asked, knowing now that the man he was arresting was, in fact, Big Foot Sam Kelly. “How ’bout the fellow ridin’ shotgun on that stage? Did Queen shoot him, too, or was that you?”
Kelly didn’t answer right away, still weighing his odds. “I ain’t shot nobody. You got the wrong person,” he said after another long moment.
“Samuel ‘Big Foot Sam’ Kelly is who I’m pretty sure I’ve got. So pull your trousers back up and grab your hat. Let’s go.” He started toward the chair to get Kelly’s gun and holster, but at that moment, Nell decided she might not get