Way of the Lawless Read online

  ‘I guess he’s in for a hard time with Sheriff Richards.’

  In spite of the unfortunate start to the evening, the sheriff’s plan was coming together as he espied two more of his deputies escorting a big man towards the jail. The crowd parted to let the trio through. Joe Peters, manacled, and under the guns of the two deputies, was marched inside the jail.

  ‘What they done, Sheriff?’ someone in the crowd called.

  For answer the sheriff pulled out a Wanted notice and held it up. He pointed to the bill, then turned and disappeared inside the jail. Josephine followed him. Knowing it was useless to ask the sheriff, she addressed herself to one of the deputies.

  ‘What’s going to happen to those men now?’

  Instead of giving her an answer, and keeping his voice low as if he did not want anyone to overhear, the deputy asked a question of Josephine.

  ‘You any idea how the sheriff ended up with a busted jaw?’

  ‘He . . . Mr Shilton attacked him, that’s how.’

  ‘It figures. You can see how riled up the sheriff is. He’s one unforgiving sonabitch, begging your pardon, ma’am. You saw how he punched that fella out there in front of the jail. My guess is he’ll more than likely hang them.’

  ‘He can’t just hang them without some sort of authorization. Surely there must be a trial?’

  The deputy’s mouth turned down.

  ‘Don’t count on it, Miss Josephine. Sheriff Richards ain’t one to care much about regulations. He’s of the old school. Shoot first and ask questions later. The Wanted poster says “dead or alive”. The sheriff knows he’ll collect the reward however he delivers them two owlhoots, dead or alive.’

  CHAPTER 4

  Josephine left the sheriff’s office, her mind in turmoil. The deputy’s predictions as to the fate of Butch and his partner Joe Peters were too awful for her young mind to contemplate. Despondently she turned towards home, knowing that what awaited her there was the nagging voice of her father preaching at her for her waywardness.

  ‘Miss Josephine.’

  She looked up as her name was called. Widow Ellison, the owner of the local diner, was approaching.

  ‘What’s all the excitement? I heard the church bell ringing.’

  ‘They caught two men the sheriff claims are on the run,’ Josephine answered dully.

  ‘Two men? What two men?’

  ‘Butch Shilton and Joe Peters.’

  ‘Joe Peters? There must be some mistake. That man ain’t no outlaw.’

  Josephine burst into tears. Maud moved close and put her arms around the young woman.

  ‘There, there, dear, you come on down to my place. What you need is a mug of coffee – or something stronger.’

  While they sipped their coffee, liberally laced with bourbon, Josephine told the older woman all that had happened.

  ‘And now he’s in jail,’ she wailed. ‘And it’s my fault.’

  ‘Hush now, Josephine, drink up your coffee. It ain’t no one’s fault. You say as Butch broke the sheriff’s jaw?’

  Josephine nodded miserably. Now that the whiskey was taking effect her tears were flowing freely. Suddenly Maud began to giggle.

  ‘Sheriff Richards with a broken jaw,’ she chortled gleefully. ‘Serve the old galoot right.’

  ‘I don’t know what’s so funny,’ Josephine said tearfully. ‘I reckon that’s the reason the sheriff is going to hang Butch – to get his own back.’

  ‘No, you’re quite right, my dear, it ain’t funny. It’s just as Sheriff Stanley Richards comes in my diner, orders a meal and more time than enough leaves without paying.’

  ‘Why, that’s awful. That’s . . . that’s like stealing.’

  ‘You’re damn right it is. If his jaw is broke, then it’ll be a while afore he’s fit to eat again. That’s why I was laughing. Serves the thieving old galoot right.’

  In spite of her distress Josephine smiled through her tears.

  ‘Poetic justice,’ she murmured. ‘It was the sheriff who brought Pa down the livery to catch Butch and me together. That was mean. He could have left Pa out of it. All he was really after was Butch. It was so humiliating.’

  The two women sat silent, sunk in their own thoughts, drinking alcohol-laced coffee.

  ‘There’s a way to get back at them, you know,’ Maud said thoughtfully after a bit. ‘And at the same time help those two poor men in jail.’

  ‘Tell me.’

  The alcohol in the coffee was taking effect and Josephine, unused to strong beverages, was feeling light-headed and reckless. So Maud told her what they could do to prevent a miscarriage of justice and get one over on Sheriff Stanley Richards who, by his boorish behaviour, had set the two women so much against him.

  The jailhouse door rattled loudly. The deputy left in charge of the prisoners looked up in annoyance.

  ‘What in tarnation?’ he grumbled as he went to open up.

  He blinked in surprise at the sight of the two women laden with trays waiting patiently on the step.

  ‘Supper for the prisoners,’ Maud announced breezily, pushing past the deputy.

  Josephine smiled demurely at the bemused man and followed Maud inside.

  ‘I . . . when was this ordered?’

  ‘Oh, it wasn’t ordered,’ Josephine told him. ‘I took it on myself to ask Mrs Ellison if she would assist me in making Sheriff Richards’s job a mite easier, taking some of the responsibility off him. Seeing as the sheriff was indisposed I guessed he would have forgotten to feed the prisoners, and I felt it was my Christian duty to feed the poor and needy and distressed.’ She giggled. ‘Not that you’re poor and needy, Deputy Grimbley, but I could not leave you out.’

  The deputy’s face brightened.

  ‘You brought me supper, Miss Josephine? That is sure mighty Christian of you.’

  He moved back to the desk and watched as Josephine put the tray down.

  ‘Shall I take this through to the cells?’ Maud asked.

  ‘Sure, sure,’ Deputy Grimbley said absently, his eyes fixed on the tray Josephine was uncovering.

  ‘I hope you got a sweet tooth, Deputy. Mrs Ellison included some apple pie and molasses.’

  Mrs Ellison disappeared out the back into the cell block with her tray. Joe jumped to his feet as he saw who it was.

  ‘Maud!’

  ‘Joe, I brought you and Butch some supper. You must be right hungry after all you been through.’ She bent and slid the tray under the door. ‘Take care with the chicken pie. I don’t want you to break a tooth.’ She smiled sweetly and curtsied. ‘Good luck, Joe Peters, and may God go with you.’ Then she was gone.

  ‘You think she was a mite tearful?’ Joe said wistfully.

  Butch did not reply immediately. He was examining the contents of the tray.

  ‘Goddamn, Joe! The condemned men ate a hearty supper. Chicken pie and potatoes and what looks like apple pie. You ought to marry that Widow Ellison.’

  ‘Yeah, and make her a widow for the fourth time when they take us out to hang us.’ Joe frowned suddenly. ‘What the hell she mean – don’t break a tooth on the chicken pie? Maud’s pies are real easy-eating.’

  Joe picked up a fork and poked it through the piecrust. The prongs did not go far before hitting something solid. Thoughtfully, Joe peeled back the pastry. Steam rose from the fresh-baked pie. He dug the fork in deeper and encountered something large and unyielding that was no part of a chicken’s anatomy.

  Gingerly he pushed the fork beneath the object and exposed a well-wrapped shape that had a remarkable resemblance to a gun. Joe looked up at Butch and smiled as he hooked out the bundle.

  ‘Chicken-and-pistol pie. Now ain’t that something.’

  He peeled back the waxed paper protecting the gun from the pie-filling.

  ‘Right.’ Butch was standing by the door of the cell. ‘When you’re ready I’ll call the guard down.’

  Joe carefully checked the weapon. It was a Colt .38, fully loaded and appeared to be in perfect working
order. The big man laid the weapon on the bunk behind him.

  ‘Has that punch from Sheriff Richards rattled your brain or something?’ Joe spread his hands over the tray of food. ‘There’s a wholesome supper here awaiting to be ate. I ain’t escaping until I store this here chicken pie inside me.’

  Butch cast his eyes skywards. Then the smell of the food hit him.

  ‘Hell! Maybe you’re right. I wouldn’t want you to faint from lack of food afore we hit the trail again.’

  CHAPTER 5

  ‘Aw, man,’ Joe Peters sat back on the jailhouse bunk with a contented sigh. ‘Widow Ellison, you’re every eating man’s dream come true.’

  At that moment Sheriff Stanley Richards came to the cell door. The lower part of his face was bandaged. He glared balefully in at the prisoners, then stared at the trayful of empty dishes. He made a pantomime of tying a knot in a rope and settling a pretend noose over his head, hanging his head to one side and making ghastly strangling noises. With a broken and bandaged jaw it was the best he could do. Deputy Grimbley appeared behind the sheriff.

  ‘Sheriff wants you fellas to sleep easy tonight. He reckons it’ll be your last night on earth. First light he reckons to take you fellas out and hang you.’

  Joe stood up.

  ‘He can’t do that. We got rights. We committed no crime in this state. He has to hand us over to the federal authorities.’

  Joe walked over to the cell door his, hands outstretched as if pleading for mercy. The smuggled pistol was tucked into his belt in the small of his back, out of sight of the lawmen.

  ‘Push that tray out under the door,’ the deputy ordered. ‘Sheriff Richards is worried you might make some sort of weapon out of that stuff.’

  Butch came forward. Using his foot he pushed the tray towards the front of the cell. Joe was against the bars, pleading with the sheriff.

  ‘Sheriff, I’m sorry about your busted jaw. Can’t you show us some pity?’

  If his face had been fully exposed the sheriff might have been observed snarling. He stepped closer to the cell door and glared at the big man, hatred in his eyes.

  ‘I guess not,’ Joe said regretfully.

  Butch reached casually behind Joe, pulled the .38 from his belt and pushed the barrel into the bandage on the sheriff’s face.

  ‘Sheriff, you still got a jaw left that might heal over time. If I pull this trigger there’ll be a hole in your head that’ll never get a chance to heal. So you tell your man here to unlock this door real careful.’

  The two lawmen froze, staring wide-eyed at Butch.

  ‘You know my reputation. I’ve already killed two lawmen.’

  Which wasn’t true, but Butch needed every edge he could think of to get out of jail; the more ruthless the lawmen believed him to be the more chance he had of making them obey him.

  ‘Two more notches on my gun don’t make no difference to me. So if you fellas want to live beyond tonight, you do as I tell you and unlock this cell door.’

  To emphasize his threat Butch thumbed back the hammer on the revolver. The loud click of the mechanism in his face made the sheriff flinch. Afraid to move his bust jaw away from the gun he slowly raised his hand and motioned to his deputy, pointing to the cell door. Butch smiled grimly.

  ‘Now we’ll find out if this fella is after your job, Sheriff. If I shoot you, is he next in line?’

  ‘I ain’t wanting no such thing,’ said the deputy hastily. ‘Don’t you shoot. I got the key right here.’

  After a bit of fumbling the deputy unlocked the door and the two prisoners stepped free.

  ‘Weapons, Joe,’ Butch said.

  Quickly Joe disarmed the lawmen, pushed them inside the cell and relocked the door.

  ‘You’re lucky you caught him in a good mood,’ Joe told the two men. ‘When I told him about that gun I had hidden in my britches he was all for shooting his way out of here, but luckily I persuaded him otherwise.’

  Butch pointed the gun inside the cell.

  ‘You fellas keep quiet till we’re clear. Otherwise I’ll likely regret my decision not to kill you.’

  The lawmen stared balefully back at him, making no response.

  ‘Come on, Butch. The sooner we’re out of here the better.’

  The prisoners left the cells and moved into the main office.

  ‘See if you can find our weapons,’ said Butch, ‘while I have a look out the front to make sure the coast is clear.’

  No sooner had Joe started searching than there sounded the most almighty racket coming from the cell block. Sheriff Richards had picked up a tin mug from the supper tray and was hammering on the bars of the cell. Deputy Grimbley was at the barred window, yelling at the top of his voice.

  ‘Help! Help! The prisoners are escaping! Help!’

  ‘Hell damnit, Joe! They’ll rouse the whole goddamn town. We should have tied up those two varmints and gagged them. Grab what weapons you can and let’s get out of here.’

  Joe snatched up a couple of gunbelts and slung one across to Butch. They crashed out through the front door to find that some of the townspeople were coming up the street.

  ‘That’s them outlaws!’

  Bullets peppered the front of the building where the two escaped men were standing.

  ‘Damnit to hell! Put a few over their heads to slow them down,’ Butch yelled. He fired towards the oncoming men.

  The shots were enough to scatter the townsfolk and the escapers turned and ran along the boardwalk.

  ‘Make for the horses,’ Butch panted. ‘I saddled up afore they took me prisoner. Hopefully the horses are still down there. If not, we’ll have a helluva job fighting our way out of this hellhole of a town.’

  Behind them there was some yelling and shots came their way. The fugitives turned a corner; for a while they were out of sight of the pursuing townspeople.

  ‘Hell damnit! I wish I hadn’t had extra helpings of that apple pie,’ Joe puffed. ‘It’s slowing me down some.’

  ‘I always said your eating would get you in trouble some day.’

  ‘I heard a fella claim once,’ Joe panted, ‘that you dig your own grave with your teeth. I never did understand that till right now.’

  ‘Keep going, Joe. We’re nearly there.’

  Butch was running easily, keeping pace with his companion and glancing from time to time over his shoulder. The section came in sight and the horses could be seen waiting patiently, still saddled and tied up where Butch had left them.

  ‘Thank God for that!’

  But even as they mounted up shots came whistling their way. Frantically heeling the horses into action they rode out into the night. Soon they were out of gunshot range but they kept up their furious pace. They were both aware that Sheriff Richards would not rest up, injured jaw or not. The vindictive lawman would most likely organize a chase. For the moment Butch and Joe had a head start, but soon there would be a posse hot on their heels.

  CHAPTER 6

  Dusty and travel-stained, the wanted men sat their mounts and gazed at the signpost.

  ‘Barbelle, three miles,’ Joe read. ‘What do you think, Butch, should we chance it?’

  ‘Barbelle. I like the sound of that, Joe. It conjures up images of saloons and cathouses and frolicking females.’

  ‘Frolicking females?’ The big man shook his head in exasperation. ‘That’s what got us in trouble the last place we were at. You had to go sparking the minister’s daughter. For Gawd’s sake, the Reverend Dinwiddie’s daughter! I had to pull your ass out of the fire once again when you got yourself arrested.’

  ‘What the hell do you mean? Don’t forget you were in jail along with me. I’d have got out of jail without your help.’

  ‘Oh yeah? I was in jail because I planned it that way.’

  ‘You planned it? How can you plan to have yourself arrested?’

  ‘Listen, you dog-brained jackass, any fool can get himself arrested. The real test is getting back out of jail. I had it all figured. I got myself arr
ested after arranging for Maud to smuggle me a gun. That’s what’s called strategy. Whereas you – you go and bust the sheriff’s jaw. That’s what got him so riled up as he was going to hang us.’

  ‘Hell! A fella’s got a right to defend himself.’

  ‘There’s defending yourself and there’s breaking the law. And then there’s breaking the lawman’s jaw when he came to arrest you.’

  ‘It was self-defence. He was about to put a slug in me. I had to disarm him somehow even if it did mean breaking his goddamn jaw.’

  ‘Yeah, and fancy taking Josephine, the preacher’s daughter into the livery stable. Any fool could have told you that was asking for trouble.’

  ‘Josephine.’ A dreamy look came over Butch’s face. ‘She was exquisite, the body of Aphrodite and the mind of Joan of Arc.’

  Joe was looking at his companion with a perplexed frown on his face.

  ‘What the hell’s Joan of Arc got to do with the Reverend Dinwiddie’s daughter?’

  ‘Joan was touched by God, as was the divine Josephine.’

  ‘She was touched all right, touched in the head to get involved with a lowlife like you.’

  ‘You take that back, Joe Peters. I ain’t no lowlife.’

  ‘Look at you.’ Joe laughed scornfully. ‘You’re a saddle bum – a wanted man.’

  ‘I ain’t no saddle bum, no matter what the hell you say. And anyway it’s the tub calling the kettle black.’

  ‘You got that wrong. It’s the pot and the kettle, the pot calling the kettle black.’

  ‘I know what I’m saying. When I say tub, I mean tub, a tub of lard is what I mean.’

  ‘Take that back, you son of a bitch! I can tell you this is all muscle.’ Joe sat up straight in the saddle and sucked in his stomach as he spoke.

  ‘Huh!’

  The partners glared at each other for moments, wondering if it was worth getting down off their horses and settling the disagreement with a bout of fisticuffs.

  ‘Hell, Joe! I owe you one for busting me out of that jail, but you never arranged nothing. It was Maud as felt sorry for you and decided to help us. We sure owe that female our lives.’ Butch swivelled around in the saddle. ‘I just hope we lost that posse back there.’