RETRIBUTION: - GlenMarcus (best summer reads TXT) 📗

had happened since he had passed out before it all happened.”
“So how’d he know it happened in the alley?”
“He said he woke up there and found Emerson dead and the other in bad shape. The last thing he remembered was dancing with a pretty girl in the saloon.”
“So how did Emerson die?”
“Doc said he was stabbed a few times in the chest and bled out.”
“You said there was another one of Emerson’s men there?”
“Gus Milton was with them. Took a bad clubbing to the head. He mumbled something to the doc about four men briefly, but after that never regained consciousness.”
“So the boy couldn’t tell you anything else?”
“The only thing he knew was that after paying all the men, Mr. Emerson had several thousand dollars of cattle sale money on him that has since gone missing.”
The ranger in Monty came out when he asked, “You think Shepherd had anything to do with it. I mean since he IS the only survivor?”
“Naw,” replied Browning confidently, “that boy was as shook up as I have ever seen. Seems as if Emerson and Milton was the closest thing to a family he had.”
“Well I had to ask. So there were no other witnesses?”
“Nope. If you want to talk to his men, some are still in town. They figure there ain’t much to head back to in Texas now with their boss dead.”
“I’ll get to that later. I guess the body is over at the undertakers?”
“It’s four doors down. You taking him back to Texas?”
“I’ll transport the body as far as the spur in Macksville and then send him home on the train.”
Taking the last swig of coffee, Monty rose from his chair and asked one last question. “Where is your telegraph office? I need to send a wire.”
“Across the street by the Brooks Hotel.”
“Thank you marshal for handling this. Governor Coke sure appreciates the favor for his friend.”
“Weren’t nothing. Just doing my job. Let me know if you need anything else.”
Walking to the Western Union office, Cush couldn’t be sure the ‘four men” as described by Emerson’s cowhand was Ricketts and his crew but his gut feeling told him that it was. If the bunch didn’t head south and there was no evidence of that yet, it made sense they would set their sights on Luke.
“Might be I need to take a little side trip to the Colorado territory,” Monty mumbled to himself as he turned the knob on the door to the telegraph office and went inside.
It wasn’t like Monty owed Luke anything. It was the simple fact that the two had ridden together in the past and that was enough for him. They met before Cush became a Texas Ranger. Both were hired to ride ‘security’ for the Richard King ranch in South Texas. But when they both got tired of selling their guns, they decided to travel up the Gulf Coast for a change of pace.
Monty fancied himself as a sailor of sorts and though Luke never cared for the open water, he did love the salt water fishing. The pair hung around Galveston for almost six months. Getting into a scrape now and again was normal but in the fall of 1872, Monty got in a pretty tough situation.
After a hard night of drinking, Cush reported proposed to a lady of fine upbringing. Now what she was doing in that saloon off Galveston Bay’s south side was another story. But according to Monty, he found out the girl was previously engaged to a higher up on Galveston’s well-to-do list. This in turn, prompted a request for a duel, mostly so the socialite could retain the standing of not only himself but his promised bride’s honor. Both which was less than stellar at that moment in time.
Though highly illegal and against Luke’s pleading, Monty agreed to the terms. The two faced off in a marsh south of Offatts Bayou and with Luke and several other witnesses, stepped off the paces.
While outmaneuvered by the Galveston mayor’s son, his shot missed it mark and struck a massive cypress tree to Monty’s right. The crowd then watched in awe as Monty’s shot came to rest dead center in the other man’s chest, sending him tumbling backwards.
Immediately after, Luke and Monty decided to part ways, for better or worse, with Cush now on the run from the law. It wasn’t until a year or so later that Luke heard that Cush had been taken on by the Rangers. A motley crew at best, he knew the group protected their own and the trumped up murder charge was probably pushed into just where it needed to be, ancient history.

*******************

By the time he received Monty’s wire, Luke was just finishing lunch. It basically read that his gut told him the four men involved in the Dodge City fracas was Ricketts and the three men that broke him out. Cush ended the message by saying the same words Ricketts had used back in Pittsburg, ‘Watch your back.’
Crumpling the small piece of yellow paper and tossing it on the Silver Saddle’s plaid tablecloth, the sheriff’s countenance began to change. Normally an even-keeled, level-headed man would be the best way to describe him. But now his anger began to boil from deep down inside. A fight was coming and he didn’t like the odds. Hired guns were one thing but if three men broke Ricketts out of Huntsville, the bunch was more than average.
Standing and paying his bill, Luke walked outside to get some air. With a slight squint in his eye, he looked to the north end of town and then slowly to the south. ‘God help us all if he brings the fight here,’ thought Luke, as he watched children playing near the corral and the milling about of several towns’ folk.
A plan would be difficult to devise without know the whereabouts of the band of outlaws at the moment. But Luke figured he knew where they’d be soon enough. It was time to put some of this anger to good use, even if it meant bottling up all of Laramie Flatts.

*******************

The big Union Pacific, 4-4-0 American came to a halt and breathed a large puff of steam that encompassed the boarding area of the station a little after four p.m. There were only a few people on the platform as the conductor opened the door on the Pullman car and dropped down the hinged steps.
“How are we gonna recognize them?” Bell asked as the passengers began to exit the train.
With no response to the question, Ricketts watched patiently as each person in single-file made their way down the stairs. First off was an older couple with a teen age girl in tow. Then two cowboys with their saddlebags slung over their shoulders. With a raised eyebrow, the outlaw watched intently as two men made their departure from the car. One was older and distinguished looking. With a step towards the car, Ricketts stopped cold when two young ladies, waiting on the platform saw the men and ran over to greet them.
Several others continued to exit until the last two men came through the door and walked carefully down the steps. Dressed neatly in a black traveling suit with a round brimmed felt hat, the first man appeared to be in his fifties. His companion was in his mid-twenties and also attired tidily. Dawson nodded to Tony and they approached the two calmly.
Spying the two men approaching the older man said, “Mr. Phillips?”
“Deputy Phillips,” replied Ricketts, responding to the false name.
“Yes, of course. We are so thankful you have met us here. This is my son James and I am Fredrick Wallace.”
“This is Deputy Clark,” said Ricketts as Bell tipped his hat to the two.
“How is my son doing?”
“It was touch and go when we left. We booked stage tickets and we leave in a couple of hours. By tomorrow morning we should be in Laramie Flatts.”
“I was so worried we might be too late. Your telegram described Luke’s wounds as serious.”
“Let’s get your baggage and I will fill you in on what I know while we wait on the stage to arrive.”
As Fredrick and James followed Ricketts off the platform, Bell remained for a moment and surveyed the area. Though it had seemed like a long shot to him, so far Dawson’s plan was working perfectly.
After the bunch crossed over the Red River, they notified the Worthington Ohio authorities by telegram and it had gotten the desired effect. They had tracked down Wallace in the small town and gotten him the dire message that his son had been severely wounded. The telegram also requested they meet on the 28th in Denver for accompaniment on to Laramie Flatts by his deputies. Not wanting to leave anyone behind with the knowledge of their plan, the telegraph operator at the ferry station was dispatched accordingly. All of the pieces now seemed to be falling in place. Soon they would take care of this good-for-nothing sheriff and be on their way.
Inside the Wells Fargo office, the Wallace’s bags had been stacked in the corner and Fredrick sat down and placed his Bible on the bench beside him. Dawson sat down across from Mr. Wallace and noticed the leather-bound book as they began to speak.
“So Deputy Phillips, how did my son get injured?”
“Well, Mr. Wallace, there was an attempted holdup on our bank,” Ricketts lied. “As the robbers were leaving the bank, Luke met up with them on the street. He was able to get one of them with his first shot but one of the other two shot him in the stomach.”
“You said it was touch and go. Do you have a feeling if he will survive?”
“Sir, I can’t say. Your boy is a fine lawman and we have an excellent doctor in town, so I’d say his chances are good. I noticed you carry the good book. You read that for comfort?”
“It’s been my guide for over thirty years. I am a minister of God’s work.”
Luke never mentioned you were a preacher.”
“It’s not surprising. We haven’t spoken since he left home at sixteen,” said Wallace as reclining on the backrest of the bench. James entered and laid his suitcase down with the others.
“How are you holding up dad?”
“The deputy has told me the Luke’s chances are good. He just has to hang on. I will never forgive myself if I don’t get a chance to speak with him.”
Everyone’s attention turned to the door as Tony Bell walked in. Without a word, he motioned to Ricketts. “Excuse me gentlemen. The stage should be here shortly, so relax and rest up a bit.” Fredrick acknowledged with a nod and the “deputies” went outside.
“So what’s the plan?” Bell asked.
“When the stage gets here, I’ll keep these two busy while you tend to their bags. Chances are the drivers are familiar with Luke, so we don’t need them comparing notes. I’ll get’em on board and we’ll be on our way.”
“And Slim and GreyHawk will do the rest?”
“Yep. We just need to sit back and enjoy the ride,” Dawson said with an easy grin.

*******************

About six miles northwest of Laramie Flatts the other two outlaws had found a good place to camp. A high bluff was overshadowing a bend in the Denver road. This spot suited them both well. GreyHawk dealt with the horses, while Slim scouted angle on the road below. When it came to killing strategies like this, the blonde seemed to have an analytical mind. He could almost literally see the configurations before his eyes. Ways in, ways