CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
I cut straight down to the Arkansas and followed it west. I
rode close to the water where I could use the sound of it for my cover. It
wasn’t much of a flow here, but there’s something comforting to the sound of
running water. Too bad I was in no fit state to be comforted. There were night
birds and other animals around, and they were probably friendly to listen to.
But all my energy went to slowly stalking along the Arkansas River, looking for
two men and their horses. Stobo and Trevitt.
From what people were saying, it didn’t sound like I’d have
much trouble with Trevitt. It was Stobo who I was going to have to look out
for. In my imagination now it was Stobo who threw the rope around Chester’s
ankles. Big, they said of Stobo. Big and mean.
Good. I didn’t want this to be easy. If it was too easy, I’d
have to find someone else to break. I hoped Stobo put up a real good fight.
After an hour or two of following the river, I spotted a
hobbled horse, alone. It had to be one of them. Stobo and Trevitt must have
separated. If they intended to travel together, there was no point in camping
away from each other that I could see. Unless it was to trap whoever was
chasing them. Because they had to know I’d trace them. Even if Chester never
mentioned me, they knew there was a Marshal in Dodge. They’d gone back to camp,
gathered their gear, and run for the hills. They had to know I was coming.
Maybe this was a trap for me. Maybe I was supposed to think they’d separated,
while one lay in wait further back in the trees with a rifle.
Part of me wanted to walk right up to whoever it was and
start kicking him until he couldn’t walk. But if I got shot that would mean
that they would get away scott free. That was something I couldn’t abide
thinking of. So I dismounted and back-tracked the trail of the hobbled horse
until I saw where the two horses split up. It was hard work and it hurt my
eyes, but I finally found the spot – it was a good ways away from the river,
and the second horse had made a sharp turn. It wasn’t a trap. They had split. I
hoped that didn’t make it too easy.
I already knew where one of them was, so I decided to retrace
my steps and take him first. Whichever one he was, Stobo or Trevitt.
When I got close to the hobbled horse again, I got down off
of my horse and followed a man’s tracks as best I could until I caught the
dying coals of a campfire on the bank ahead. On this side I could make out the
huddled figure of a man asleep in his blanket.
I felt the old wildness again. I’d thought that taking a
badge would wash it out of me. Guess I was wrong.
It took a long time to crawl to his head. From just four feet
away I saw the weasel-face of the man, Trevitt. His gunbelt lay on his saddle-blanket,
in easy reach. I stood up and heaved it out into the river. Trevitt heard the
sound and his eyes opened. As he sat up with a snap I kicked him back down.
“Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!” he cried, gasping and blinking at
the darkness. All he saw was me looming over him.
“You sit up again and I’ll smash your skull, Trevitt!”
“Don’t kill me, don’t kill me.”
“Shut up! Now, where’s your rope?” Trevitt started to sit up
again and I kicked him in the throat. “I told you to lie down! Now where’s your
rope?”
Trevitt lay gasping for a minute or so before he could
answer. “Under my saddle there,” he pointed, this time making sure to stay on
the ground. “You gonna lynch me?”
I walked to where his saddle was sitting, a few feet on his
other side. Sure enough, there was the rope. I lifted it and walked back
towards him. “No,” I said. “I’m not gonna lynch you. But you may hang legally
if you live that long. Now keep your arms in that blanket and lie still while I
get you roped up here.”
He did as I told him, but that didn’t stop him from talking.
“Who – who are you mister?”
“Let’s just say I’m a good friend of that man you dragged
outta Dodge this morning.” I finished binding his arms to his sides, then
started on his legs. “There, that’ll do it.”
“Stobo was in on that too,” said Trevitt, real fear in his
voice. “It was his idea, he did it.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll find Stobo.” I stood and walked away.
“Y’ain’t – gonna leave me like this?” Trevitt called after
me.
“I’ll be back,” I said.
I walked as far as my horse and Trevitt’s, and led them both
back to where the little weasel was lying, hog-tied and ready for a little
justice.
As I stepped back into the glow of the burning embers he
noticed for the first time that I wasn’t armed. “You – ain’t even carryin’ a
gun.”
“Too bad for you I’m not,” I said. I dragged him up to his
feet. “Now, Trevitt, I’m gonna throw you across my horse and tie you on. He’ll
take you into Dodge, right up to the jail. When you get there, tell Shiloh who
you are, if you can still talk, and he’ll give you a nice, clean cell.”
“You’re the Marshal,” said Trevitt. He was a bright one.
I lifted him up and threw him over my saddle. “I’ll be back
when I find Stobo,” I said.
As I began lashing Trevitt to my horse he kept whining. “You
can’t do it, Marshal. I’ll die in that sun. Ride like that, across a horse? No,
no, now listen – Stobo’s ‘bout a mile upriver. We had a row and I left him.
See? I told ya, Marshal. Let me go now?”
I took my own rope from off my saddle and walked around to
look Trevitt in the eye. “Trevitt, how’d you like to go back to Dodge behind my
horse with a rope around your heels?”
Trevitt began shaking. “No no no, no no! Don’t, Marshal,
don’t kill me!” Any minute now he was going to disgrace himself across my
horse.
“Save your water,” I said. “You’re gonna need it.”
I slapped my horse’s rump and started him off in the
direction of Dodge. Then forgot about Trevitt.
Stobo was next.
