Chapter TWELVE
Michael Handshoe looked down at the two men near the brush lined stream. He swung off his horse to make sure both were dead. The piece of paper in the one’s hand caught his attention. He squatted and pulled the paper from dead fingers.
Handshoe read it, crumpled it and started to throw it away, then he smoothed it out and put it in his pocket. He needed more troops now, that was obvious. His last two men came riding toward him. They were a quarter of a mile off.
Damnit! He had been right. He had wanted to charge up the due north trail, but his tracker had talked him out of it. It had been a sucker play and he fell for it. Somebody in the Willy Boy bunch was damn smart, and Handshoe didn’t think it was the leader. Eagle, the Comanche Indian. He would be the designer of this trap.
The men rode up to him, eyes wide, looking at the bodies.
"Take a look around," he told them after they had looked their fill at the two bodies. "Bastards tricked us. See if you can find Lars. He came up the short route, should have been here first. "
"Damn, here first and dead first, I’ll wager," one of the newer men said. He angled downstream and began searching through the brush. The other man went upstream.
Handshoe bunkered down and drew lines in the dirt with a stick. He had been out-thought, out-maneuvered and out-gunned. Damn!
"Found him!" the downstream men bellowed. "Dead. "
"Bring him back up here with his horse if it’s there. "
Handshoe made the decision quickly. He had to take these men back to town and bury them, write letters to next of kin, hire six or eight new men and get back on the bastards’ trail. In ten years he’d never come up against a gang this tough or this vicious. But he’d take them.
It took him two days to get his business done and back on the trail. He hired seven new men, made them prove they could hit what they shot at with pistol and rifle. Then he bought them all identical low crowned white hats and they headed out.
They joked about being Handshoe’s army, but in fact that’s what they were. An army of ten men who did what he told them to, and fought for money.
They came to the site of the ambush and his new tracker picked up the gang’s trail quickly.
"All six of them moving steady to the east," the tracker said. His name was Harry but everyone called him Loco. "There’s a town or two over that way. From what you said, they left Dodge sudden without supplies. "
They rode hard and three hours later could see two ( small towns ahead, one north and the other south. ’ Handshoe sent three men to the one farthest away. They were to talk first to the storeman and see if six men bought trail supplies. If they didn’t find them there they should check the hotel and the saloons. If they found no trace, they were to high tail it back to the second town.
Handshoe took the rest of his men into the closer town. When they rode in he saw it was about 200 people strong, had five or six stores, no railroad or main trail. The general store owner said he’d sold a lot of trail supplies to two men who came in. He described them. One was a Mexican who spoke good English and the other one was a big guy, over six feet and sturdy who seemed quiet, maybe a little slow witted.
"When did you sell the goods?" Handshoe asked impatiently.
The store owner took off a scuffy bill cap and scratched his head through thinning hair. "Reckon it was three days ago. Same day the Younger boy broke his leg. Yep, three days ago. "
"You see which direction they rode out?"
"Nope. Had lots of business that day, and a supply wagon brought in my order from Chicago. "
Handshoe thanked him and they rode down the street. The hotel wouldn’t be any help. The town whores might if the Willy Boy bunch talked as they pleasured. Long chance there. Handshoe unfolded a map of that section of Kansas he had bought at Dodge and looked for the main trails and the next town.
What was this bunch after? What was motivating them? He knew they all broke out of jail together. Why hadn’t this bunch split up and vanished into the West?
They all could fade into the wilderness and never be heard of again. Staying together they made themselves a bigger target. One that he would track down. For a $12,000 payoff he could do the job right.
Right now he decided they thought staying together would help them stave off any posse that came after them. It had worked twice so far, and had whipped him in the first meeting. But it wouldn’t be the last. They had trail supplies, what would they do now?
Handshoe tried to put himself in their shoes. The kid could still be looking for Deeds Conover. Conover was a real bastard, a shoot first type who caused the profession trouble, gave all bounty hunters a bad name.
How do you hunt for a bounty hunter? Easy, you check with every lawman you can find and ask if the man has been around. Makes it harder when you’re also on a wanted poster yourself. They would send in the man who would be suspected least. Maybe Willy Boy himself looking for his daddy, maybe. He’s say his daddy just happened to be Deeds Conover.
Towns, he’d work every town he came to. There were three of them within the next ten miles as they came into a slightly more settled section of the Kansas plains.
He took the most likely town and sent three men to each of the other two. They would meet in the center spot later in the day to report.
He got the men moving and set a fast pace.
"We’re on their trail again, but three days behind them. So we have to make that up. We’ll be riding until midnight every day. Checking all of these towns will take more time, but we have no choice. I want to get that little bastard!"
When the three teams met late that day, two reported that there had been a person inquiring about Deeds Conover. One of the men was small and young asking for his father. In the other town the man had been tall, well dressed, well spoken and pleasant. They pegged him as the Professor. The lawmen hadn’t heard of Conover.
The next town ahead was no problem. It was over 20 miles along the main trail toward Hutchinson.
"We’ll be riding a long time tonight, so we better get a meal while we’re in town," Handshoe told his men. They all had big steak dinners and two pieces of pie. Then they got back on the trail.
True to his word, Handshoe pushed them until almost midnight before they bedded down. The next town was only a few miles away. They didn’t even know its name. One of these little Kansas towns was starting to look like the rest of them.
Handshoe thought through the odds of making any money on this challenge. The $12,000 potential was still there. He could afford to give it a month’s try. If it didn’t work, he’d have to work on some cases that would bring in some money.
Willy Boy and his men had been to six different towns. None of the lawmen that Willy Boy and the Professor talked to had heard anything of Deeds Conover for a year or more.
The leader of the gang was getting discouraged. He wanted results and he wanted them now. Patience had never been one of his major character traits.
They rode into Grand Prairie at dusk, rented rooms at the small hotel by twos the way they always did, and then Willy Boy checked with the town marshal.
Willy Boy walked into the lawman office with a touch of uneasiness as he usually tried to do. He held his black hat in his hand and combed at his wild hair with his fingers.
A man behind a counter looked up.
"Yeah, kid?"
"Looking for my Pa. He been around here?"
The lawman laughed. "Help a bit if I knew the man’s name. "
"Oh, yeah. He’s Deeds Conover. He been here lately?"
"Conover, the bounty hunter?"
"I guess that’s what he does. He travels a lot. ""Figures. Yeah, he was through here yesterday, matter of fact. On the trail of a guy called Yellow Charlie, whoever the hell he is. Guy by that moniker been living out of town a mile or two. Never did find out what the hell happened when the bounty hunter went out there. ’’"Gosh, that’s great. Where can I find this Yellow Charlie’s place?"
Th
e lawman looked at him a minute, then shrugged. "Might not be too healthy out there for a while. I hear this Conover gent is kind of rough on guys wanted by the law. "
"He’s my Pa. I want to find him. "
"All right. Yellow Charlie lives about eight miles out of town on a little creek called West River. Kind of a horse ranch, last I knew. Some corrals and a small house. Go out the north road to the third mile marker, then east for three more and you should be almost there. " Willy nodded. "Thank you kindly, sir. I appreciate this. " He turned and hurried out of the office.
Back at the hotel he called the five men around him
and told them what he’d learned. It was dark by then.
"We going out now?" Gunner asked.
"Right now," Willy Boy said. "Bring your rifles and six-guns and plenty of ammo and all your gear. We might not be back this way. But remember, when we capture the bastard, I’m the one who gets to finish him. Anybody kills him first and I’ll be damn mad. "
It was an easy place to find. Kansas had been marked off in mile square sections. Not all the roads were in yet, but the markers were up in this county every mile. When they came to the end of the three miles east they could see the start of some breaks and a small hill. They rode toward it and came on the small ranch a mile farther on.
At first glance it seemed to be unoccupied. But then they saw the faint glow of what must be a candle through the one small window. The house was old, poorly made. It looked like it might have been a soddy at one time that was fixed up and given wooden walls and wood roof instead of good Kansas sod.
They watched but could see no movement. Willy Boy had stopped the horses well back and they had walked up to where they could see better. Now he took Eagle and they slipped toward the cabin without a sound.
Willy Boy edged up to the high window and looked inside through the spots and sheen of dirt. It was a candle burning on a wooden chair. On another chair, facing the window, a man had been tied. It was a journeyman job for any sailor, knots tight, only a little rope used, no slack. No way to escape.
Nowhere else in the room that he could see, was there another person or any sign of another. There had to be someone else there to tie up the man.
Eagle took a look and then they edged back where they could whisper.
"Got to be another man in there," Eagle said. "We can’t see in. Should we jump inside with shotguns ready?"
"Damn, I don’t know. If that man is Yellow Charlie, then Deeds Conover could be in there sleeping. He might be outside taking a piss, or he could be riding back to town for some supplies before he brings in this wanted man. "
"I know there’s another man in there," Eagle said.
"Let’s go back and talk it over. We’ve got nothing to lose. We can take him anytime. "
The Professor listened to what they had seen and what they figured might be the situation.
"What if the man tied in the chair is Deeds Conover?" the Professor asked. "Maybe Yellow Charlie captured Conover. "
"Guy tied up didn’t remind me of Conover," Willy Boy said.
"It’s been over three years since you saw him. Did the man in the chair have yellow hair?"
"No," Eagle said.
"Damn! I didn’t notice that," Willy Boy said. "So what the hell should we do now?"
Juan spoke up. "Scare whoever is in there. Put six rifle slugs through the window. Then when the noise dies down, tell the men inside to come out with their hands on top of their heads. "
Willy Boy grinned. "Yeah, I like that. Safe, strong, should work. " He positioned the men to surround the cabin, then kept Eagle with him and they both pumped three slugs through the window as quickly as they could
lever fresh .52 caliber rounds into the Henrys.
The silence following the shots sounded louder than the firing.
"Come out of there with your hands up," Willy Boy bellowed in his toughest voice. "We’ve got ten men around this cabin. You can’t get away. Come out now or we’ll bum the place down. "
There was no reaction from anyone in the cabin for a moment, then the cabin door opened and a barking dog jolted through and into the darkness. A pistol cracked and the dog stopped barking and slinked away in the night.
"You’ve got fifteen seconds, then we bum you out!" Willy Boy shouted.
The door swung open again and a small man shuffled out into the pale moonlight. His hands were over his head. He wasn’t more than five feet tall. He stood there squinting into the darkness.
"Who the hell are you?" Willy Boy brayed.
"Who the hell’s asking?" the old cracking voice shot back.
Willy Boy laughed. "I’m Willy Boy and I’m hunting one Deeds Conover. That him you have tied up inside?""Not even by a hard lick. That young coot is my nephew and I’m trying to show him how to tie up a man so he can’t no way get free. Want to take a look?""Already looked through the window," Willy Boy said. "You can put your hands down now. You know a bounty man name of Deeds Conover is on your trail?""Hell yes, think I’m blind? He drew down on me yesterday and shot close to my foot and I gived up. ""So why didn’t he take you in for the bounty?" The old man laughed. "Hail, son, I’m only a two- fifty paper. Got a paper myself to prove it, and it’s from almost nine years ago. Doubt if it’s any good now. Told this jasper that and offered him $20 to move on. ""What’d he do?" Eagle asked.
"Do, he took my twenty, stole another twenty I had in a tabakky can, and rode off after I fed him supper last night. Any more fool questions?"
"Guess not, old man. "
"Good, I got one. You owe me fifty cents to put a new pane of glass in that little winder. When you gonna pay me for it? You’re about the third varmint who has shot it out on me. "
Willy Boy chuckled. "Guess you’re right. I had no call to destroy your property that way. " He stood. "Don’t shoot, I’m walking up to give you a dollar. I don’t got nothing smaller right now. "
"Dollar’s fine," the old man said. "Lonnie, don’t shoot this gent. He’s paying for the winder. "
The ydung man who had been tied up stepped into the door frame with his uncle, a long gun in his hand. The old man turned. "How’n hell you get loose?"
A half hour later, The Willy Boy Gang camped down on the little creek. They had found no sign of the bounty hunter’s camp.
"Come morning we try to pick up his tracks. Should be one horse moving fast. He’s working this area. Chances are he’ll hit the next town east and look over the Wanteds. We’ll try to meet up with him. Goddamn, but we’re getting close, Professor. Getting damn close to that bastard Conover!"