Bury Them Deep in War Smoke Page 10

  ‘Now what do you reckon has them two boys so all fired up, Elmer?’ he asked the deputy.

  Elmer scratched his head. ‘Wish I knew, Doc.’

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The pair of lawmen did not slow their pace until they reached the boardwalk outside the Diamond Pin Hotel. Matt Fallen exhaled loudly as he stepped up on to the wooden boards, and paused for a brief moment. A few heartbeats later Heck caught up with the long-legged marshal, just stopping to adjust his pants and his wayward holster.

  ‘Just a cotton-picking minute there, Matthew,’ Heck moaned as he tightened the rope holding up his pants and dragged the holster on to his hip. ‘My britches almost fell down.’

  As Fallen took a stride towards the hotel’s double doors, one of them opened and the small clerk stepped out into the night air. He halted and stared at the two men with tin stars walking towards him.

  ‘I was just heading over to your office, Marshal,’ he said. ‘That man in Room Three ain’t there any longer.’

  Fallen pushed his hat back and moved closer to the hotel clerk. The lanterns to either side of the hotel entrance lit his face in its amber light.

  ‘Ward ain’t in his room?’ he questioned.

  ‘Nope, he’s gone,’ the small man replied. ‘I sent a couple of men to replace the door, and when they came back down they told me the room was empty.’

  Heck ambled in between the two men.

  ‘Did you see that galoot pass your desk, sonny?’ he asked.

  The small figure shook his head. ‘Nobody passed my desk. I’ve bin there since you left the hotel.’

  Fallen stroked his rugged jaw.

  ‘Were your men sure that Ward wasn’t in his room?’

  ‘They were certain,’ the clerk retorted. ‘They did say that the window was open, though.’

  ‘That hombre must be using the window to come and go, Matthew,’ Heck suggested. ‘He must be part monkey.’

  ‘But there’s no staircase to the balcony,’ the clerk noted.

  Fallen and Heck looked at one another and then stepped down on to the sand and looked up to the balcony. The deputy rubbed his neck and shook his head in disbelief as Fallen studied the high balcony carefully.

  ‘He must have left and returned to his room that way,’ he drawled. ‘That’s a mighty high balcony though.’

  Heck walked to the side of the marshal and bit his lip as they both looked upwards. ‘Are you reckoning that Ward somehow jumped from up there and then climbed back up, Matthew?’

  Fallen nodded. ‘It’s the only way he could have done it, Heck. That’s why the clerk never saw him leave.’

  Heck raised both his eyebrows.

  ‘So he could have bin the critter that killed old Sam,’ he reasoned, with a long sigh. ‘He hood-winked us.’

  Matt Fallen looked to the clerk and touched his hat brim to him. ‘Thanks, friend. You’ve just solved a puzzle that’s bin gnawing at my guts.’

  ‘I’m glad I could help, Marshal,’ the clerk went back into the hotel.

  Heck looked at his towering friend.

  ‘So that must have been Ward that Doc and Elmer saw driving Miss Betty out of town, Matthew,’ the deputy noted, scratching his beard thoughtfully. ‘I wonder where he was taking her in such a hurry?’

  Suddenly Matt Fallen’s expression altered from one of confusion to one of trepidation. He looked at the thoughtful deputy and slapped his hands together.

  ‘That loco-bean is taking her to Boot Hill, Heck,’ he said.

  ‘Why in tarnation would he be taking her all the way up there at this time of night, Matthew?’ Heck wondered.

  There was only one possible explanation as far as the rugged marshal could see. His eyes darted at his deputy.

  ‘To kill her and fill one of those graves, Heck,’ Fallen replied, and then swung on his heels. ‘Get the horses. We’ve gotta get to Boot Hill before he kills again.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Miss Betty LaRue had relished the thrill of the fast and feverish ride up to Boot Hill; her heart had not beaten so quickly for decades. She had not sensed the danger in the man seated next to her in the buggy. Nor had she feared that same stranger in black as he had practically dragged her from the expensive vehicle once they had entered the cemetery.

  Miss Betty had weathered many storms during her life, as had all ladies who had chosen the same profession. Nothing frightened her, and had not done so for the longest time.

  Even as Ward had held her small hand tightly and led her across the graveyard she had laughed at the impending thrill she anticipated. There was something inside her which was actually flattered and excited by the younger man. For years she had not been the focus of any of her clients’ attention, and Ward’s urgency had rekindled a fire which she had thought was long dormant.

  For the first time in many, many years, Miss Betty was the centre of a man’s desire.

  At least that was what she had thought.

  The fleeting memory of what it felt like to be young again had blinkered Miss Betty against the reality of the situation she now found herself in.

  But her excitement was to be short lived.

  After Miss Betty LaRue had looked around the deserted graveyard she suddenly became aware that Ward was no longer smiling. She fanned her red cheeks with her tiny hands and looked at his emotionless glare.

  ‘You’re not smiling any more, handsome,’ Betty said as she suddenly noticed the three freshly dug graves at her feet. Her eyes stared into his face. For a terrifying moment she wondered why he had brought her to Boot Hill. Her throat suddenly became dry as she stared at the man in black.

  ‘Why have you brought me here, Jonas?’ she asked, as he looked at her from under the brim of his hat. ‘What was the business deal you talked about back at the Crimson Heart?’

  Ward smiled. It was not the smile of someone who was about to share anything humourous. He tilted his head and stared at her, and then stepped closer.

  ‘My name is Jonas Ward, Miss Betty,’ he revealed. ‘And there ain’t no business deal.’

  For a moment the name meant nothing to her – and then she recalled another man who shared the same surname – a murderer who had preyed upon innocent girls who were unable to defend themselves.

  Miss Betty’s heart pounded beneath her finery.

  ‘Ward?’ she gasped as the memory of Lucas Ward flashed through her mind. She then recognized the resemblance between the man in black and Lucas Ward. She shied away from Ward like someone who has just caught sight of a monster. Loose soil under her shoes slipped away, and she almost fell into one of the deep graves. Somehow she managed to steady herself, and her expression changed as she glanced from Ward to the graves.

  ‘Take me back,’ the buxom woman demanded.

  ‘You’re starting to remember my dear brother,’ Ward said, as he pushed his long trail coat over the holstered grip of his .45. ‘I can see it in your face. No amount of paint can hide the guilt you feel for not helping Lucas.’

  Miss Betty’s eyes flashed at the man that had tricked her.

  ‘Lucas wanted me to say that he was in the Crimson Heart at the time of each of the murders!’ she exclaimed as the severity of coming to this remote place dawned on her.

  ‘Why wouldn’t you give Brother Lucas an alibi?’ Ward snarled. ‘Why not?’

  Miss Betty inhaled deeply and squared up to Ward.

  ‘Why not?’ she repeated before angrily shaking a fist at him. ‘Listen, I don’t lie for anyone, especially mindless killers. Your brother got what he deserved when they lynched him!’

  Without warning, Ward sprang towards her like a mountain cat. His hands struck her ample bosom and knocked her off balance: Betty LaRue toppled back and suddenly fell into one of the deep holes.

  Ward drew his six-shooter from its holster and glanced over the edge of the six-foot-deep chasm. For a moment the blackest of shadows hid her from view. Then he could see her struggling to get back to her feet. The fall had winded h
er and covered her in mud. Her elaborate dress with its multitude of underskirts hampered her from achieving anything apart from repeatedly stepping on its hem and tripping over.

  ‘Get me out of here,’ she screamed.

  Ward shook his head and aimed his gun at her. ‘That would be pointless, you whore. You’re exactly where I intended for you to be. In your grave.’

  ‘My grave?’

  Even the layers of make-up on her face could not hide the terror she felt at hearing his words. Betty looked up from the deep hole she was trapped in and shook her head in disbelief.

  ‘You can’t just kill me,’ she exclaimed.

  ‘I can and I will,’ Ward disagreed.

  ‘But why would you wanna kill me?’ Betty had backed away as far as the damp dirt wall. Yet she was still staring up into the barrel of his ominous six-gun. ‘All I did was tell the truth.’

  Ward narrowed his eyes.

  ‘Brother Lucas had his demons, Miss Betty,’ he admitted. ‘But he was my brother and I loved him. You failed him in his hour of need, and for that you must pay.’

  Miss Betty shielded her eyes and awaited the inevitable as she sensed that her time was about to end. She was about to scream, when Boot Hill resounded to the ear-splitting noise of a gun shot.

  FINALE

  Totally stunned by the shot that had whistled past his head, Jonas Ward looked up and saw the two approaching riders as they carved a frantic trail through the moonlight towards Boot Hill. The demented man in black could see the tin stars pinned to their chests and the gunsmoke trailing from Matt Fallen’s drawn six-shooter.

  Fallen fired again. The marshal’s bullet ricocheted off the most impressive tombstone in the cemetery and sent shards of debris up into the night air.

  ‘It’s those damned star-packers,’ Ward growled, and then blasted back at the lawmen. He ran down to where there were a few large stone markers and dropped down behind one of them. He pressed his shoulder into the moss-covered stone and fired frantically at the advancing lawmen.

  Undeterred, Fallen ducked under the neck of his galloping mount and then fired again. He straightened back up on his saddle and spurred the grey gelding on towards Boot Hill as Heck guided his mule to the opposite side of the cemetery.

  The marshal leapt from his mount and then ran for cover as bullets cut through the eerie moonlight after him. Heck rode straight towards the picket fencing encircling the graveyard. As Fallen fanned his gun hammer he watched in total amazement as his deputy managed to get his mule to leap over the moonlit fence.

  Inside the cemetery the mule stumbled, and Fallen winced as Heck tumbled off the back of his saddle and rolled across the muddy ground until he hit a sturdy wooden marker. Stunned, Heck watched as his angry mule bucked and kicked its way through the graveyard.

  ‘Are you OK, Heck?’ the marshal shouted as bullets cut through the air to either side of his crouching frame.

  ‘I reckon so, Matthew,’ the dazed deputy answered.

  Ward turned his attention on the deputy and fired furiously at Heck. Large chunks of wood were torn off the grave marker as the man in black emptied his six-shooter at his stunned target. Sawdust fell like snow over Heck’s crawling body as Ward swiftly shook the spent casings from his gun and started refilling its hot chambers with bullets from his gunbelt.

  ‘You made a real bad mistake coming up here, Fallen,’ Ward yelled out as he turned on his knees to where he had last seen the marshal. ‘You’re next on my list.’

  The lawman reloaded his .45 and considered the words of the man they had come to prevent adding to his tally. He closed the smoking chamber of his six-shooter and looked long and hard for his elusive prey.

  ‘What you talking about, Ward?’ Matt Fallen yelled out at the top of his voice as he cocked his gun’s hammer. ‘What list would that be?’

  ‘My brother’s killing list, Marshal,’ Ward replied before leaning around the grave stone and firing at Fallen. ‘He wrote to me telling me the names of the three folks that got him hanged.’

  As Ward rested his back against the largest gravestone in the cemetery he saw the deputy’s mule kicking and bucking around Boot Hill like a snorting bull. Ward raised his gun and aimed his nickel-plated six-shooter at the bucking mule.

  ‘Whatever that animal is, I’m gonna kill it before it gets too close,’ he said, and fired. But the shot nicked one of the mule’s ears and sent it into an even greater rage. Even though laden with a hefty saddle and all its master’s trappings, the bucking animal still managed to leap off the ground and kick out with all its hoofs at the same time.

  Fallen slid down through some tall grass and started to make his way round the graveyard so as to get behind Jonas Ward. Ward rose up another few inches and held his gun at arm’s length as he aimed at the crazed mule. The moonlight reflected off the gun’s nickel plating: it was like a beacon, and the mule charged straight towards it.

  Ward fired steadily at the mule and at Fallen.

  Wooden markers and solid stones were trampled beneath the crazed animal’s hoofs as it careered through the cemetery towards the lit-up gun and the man who had shot a chunk off its ear.

  Heck got up on to his knees and stared in horror at his mule racing through the moonlight towards the ruthless killer.

  ‘Quit that, Nellie,’ Heck shouted at his demented mule. But the mule kept charging on. ‘Damn it all, Nellie.’

  Fallen reached the far side of Boot Hill, and was wading up through the swaying high grass to where he knew Ward was secreted, when a volley of shots cut through the eerie light. Fallen felt one of the shots graze his shoulder: it was like being jabbed by a branding iron. The marshal dropped down on to his belly as another bullet ripped through his Stetson and tore it from his head.

  ‘You’re trapped, Fallen,’ Ward laughed out loud.

  The marshal knew that he was pinned down. He could not go forward, and doubted that his large frame would get far if he tried to retreat: he was a big target, and he knew it.

  ‘Don’t fret none, Matthew,’ Heck shouted out from across the cemetery. ‘I’ll get that rascal.’

  The deputy started to blast his hefty Army Colt in Ward’s direction. Two shots hit the tombstone in front of Ward and sent chunks of grit cascading over him. As Ward ducked, Fallen levelled his smoking six-shooter at him: he squeezed his trigger and sent a fiery rod of lethal venom straight across the distance between them.

  The bullet caught Ward in his chest.

  The chilling sound that came from Ward’s mouth was like something formed in the bowels of Hell itself. The man in black rose to his feet and blasted his gun as pain tore through his body.

  Fallen raced across the graveyard until he found another group of markers to hunch behind. He pulled on his trigger again and sent his last bullet at Ward. The man in black buckled as it hit him dead centre.

  Like a wounded animal, Ward swung his gun and unleashed the last of its bullets before collapsing on his knees. The empty six-gun fell from his grasp as his watery eyes looked in all directions.

  Suddenly out of nowhere, the mule came crashing back through the pair of lawmen. Both Fallen and Heck were sent cart-wheeling as the furious animal bucked passed them and continued round the cemetery on towards the man who had taken a chunk out of one of its ears.

  Fallen winced at the sound of the scream.

  It was hideous and gut-wrenching. Fallen lunged at the mule but was forced to retreat when the injured animal kicked out its back legs feverishly.

  ‘Quit that, Nellie gal,’ Heck vainly shouted before turning to the marshal and shrugging. ‘There ain’t no talking to that mule when she’s hurt, Matthew. She gets plumb ornery.’

  Fallen patted his friend on the shoulder.

  ‘She’s got the right to be ornery, Heck,’ he said. ‘Ward shot a lump out of her ear. I reckon I might get a tad tetchy as well if he’d done that to me.’

  Both lawmen watched helplessly as the mule kept pounding its hoofs into the ground. Blood
was spread out in sickening splatters from Ward’s remains. The pitiful whimpering had stopped long before the mule ceased its deadly actions. Matt Fallen and his sidekick stared down at what was left of Jonas Ward. He was unrecognisable.

  ‘At least Nellie saved the town the cost of another trial, Heck,’ Fallen said bluntly as he checked his wound. ‘I’ll buy her an apple tomorrow.’

  ‘Is you hurt bad, Matthew?’ Heck asked as he edged towards his tiring mule.

  ‘Nope, just a graze, Heck,’ Fallen replied as they cautiously edged towards the fallen Jonas Ward. Heck grabbed the reins of his mule as the tall marshal stared down at the body of the dangerous assassin.

  Heck looked around at the damage caused to the cemetery on Boot Hill by the mule running amok. ‘Most of the markers ain’t where they’re meant to be, Matthew. The town council will sure be mighty angry about this.’

  ‘We’ll say that Ward did it, Heck,’ Fallen winked.

  Heck grinned and patted the nose of the still snorting animal. ‘Ain’t that nice of Matthew, Nellie? He’s gonna tell a big fib for you.’

  The lofty marshal stared down at the body of the man in black and spat. He stretched up to his full height and gazed around the cemetery.

  ‘I wonder where Ward left poor old Miss Betty’s body,’ he mumbled thoughtfully.

  ‘We’d best check them empty graves, Matthew,’ Heck secured the mule’s reins to the picket fence and walked up to Fallen. ‘I got me a sneaky feeling that one of them holes ain’t empty no longer.’

  ‘Yeah, you’re right, Heck.’ Fallen nodded.

  Both men started walking to where they knew the three fresh graves had been dug. Neither was in a hurry to see what Ward might have done to Betty LaRue.

  ‘That varmint sure was determined to kill somebody,’ muttered Heck as they neared the three mounds of earth that were piled up close to the graves. Then the unnerving sound of a female voice coming from the freshly dug graves surprised both him and his deputy. Heck grabbed Fallen’s arm.