Ralph Compton Rusted Tin Page 6

  “Then why are you here?”

  Burt’s response to that was an impatient motion toward the front door. Since he doubted he’d get much more than that until he opened it, Wolpert grabbed the handle and stepped inside.

  Looking around at the sparse furnishings and clutter strewn about the single room, Burt asked, “You don’t even bother locking your door?”

  “I’m the law in this town. Why would anyone rob me? Not that I got much worth stealin’ anyhow.”

  “Considering how well I pay you, this takes me by surprise. Didn’t you and that wife of yours have a nice place farther down the street?”

  “She’s not my wife no more. We went our separate ways.”

  Burt’s eyebrows shot up as he unbuttoned his coat. “What happened? You two always seemed happy.”

  “Then you weren’t looking closely. What would you know about it anyway? You only met Jane once.”

  “Still, sorry to hear it.”

  Wolpert studied the other man’s face while he started a fire in the stove that sat in the middle of the cabin. In a strange sort of way, Burt truly did seem sorry to hear the news. Then again, Burt could shoot a preacher between the eyes and look genuinely surprised when nobody showed up to give that Sunday’s sermon. “She and I never did see level on much.”

  “She always thought you should be a straight-arrow lawman?”

  “No,” Wolpert grunted. “She thought she should get most of the money I took in.”

  Burt let out a whistle and lowered himself onto an old chair that was missing its back. “And here I thought the weather was the coldest thing in these parts. Speaking of cold, I did hear about what happened to Frank.”

  “Those other three couldn’t wait to tell the tale, huh?”

  “Nope. Heard about it at my hotel in Elk’s Bluff. It was the talk of the town.”

  “They never did have much to talk about over there.”

  “Some shopkeeper was trading with a caravan that came from here. He spread it all over town that Sheriff Wolpert was cracking down hard on horse thieves. The upside to it is that a few horse thieves I know blazed a trail for Wyoming quicker than a bunch of rabbits.”

  Smirking, Wolpert eased himself down onto the edge of the slanted wooden frame supporting a mattress that was thinner than the stack of blankets piled on top of it. “Least Frank did some good before I put him down.”

  “You gonna offer me a drink?”

  “I would if I hadn’t already drunk it all.”

  “Then how about you tell me what kind of burr got under your saddle to get you to shoot Frank Wellsley!”

  Despite the steady rise of Burt’s voice from a low rumble to a growl, the sheriff’s face registered only some mild discomfort from the growing amount of noise within the enclosed space. “Frank wasn’t abiding by the rules we laid down. I said your men could stay here if they behaved themselves. Stealing horses doesn’t fit into that agreement.”

  “What if that was on my orders?”

  Wolpert looked at Burt intently. “Was it?”

  Burt nodded solemnly.

  “And why weren’t those orders put through me first?”

  “You take orders,” Burt said. “I don’t give a rat’s ass whether you approve of them or not. Besides, he was one of my men. If he does something that warrants him getting shot, I’ll do the shooting.”

  “What about forcing himself on a woman? Is that enough?”

  “Was she a town girl or one of the working variety?”

  “Does it matter?”

  For a second, Burt didn’t seem to understand the difference. Then he shook his head and rubbed his eyes with the side of his hand. “Women will stab you in the back or shoot you in the front just as easy as a man will,” he sighed. “When will you get that through your head? They ain’t a bunch of angels just because they wear skirts and smell nice.”

  “She was a local girl who works at the livery,” Wolpert explained. “She didn’t pose a threat to a man like Frank and there was no reason for her to be in your sights.”

  After pulling in a deep breath, Burt let it out in a huff. “Frank was a wild one. You certain he harmed her?”

  “Yeah, and he was about to do it again as soon as I set him free.”

  “How can you be so sure of that?” Burt asked.

  “Because he told me so.”

  “Well, Frank always was a man of his word. Fine,” Burt said as he clapped his hands together as if he were dusting the dead man off his conscience. “I’ll let it slide because you did make it clear my boys were supposed to leave the angels of this fair town alone. But don’t ever so much as scold my men again unless I know about it. Makes me look bad.”

  Wolpert nodded halfheartedly.

  “Good. That’s settled.”

  “Not quite,” the lawman said. “Why would you order Frank to steal those horses? Aren’t there enough animals roaming in other counties that you can pluck?”

  Burt’s grin was wide enough to display a set of narrow teeth that looked more like something belonging in a cat’s mouth. Several of them were chipped or rotted away, leaving the remainders jagged and uneven. “That’s what I meant to talk to you about in the first place.”

  “Good. Can we get it over with so I can sleep?”

  “Or we can wait until morning,” Burt said as he stood up and flapped his coat so it hung straight down to his ankles. “That’d give me some time to stretch my legs and see if the local cardsharps have gotten any better than the ones in Chimney Lake.”

  Chimney Lake was another town in Wolpert’s jurisdiction. The last time Burt had gambled there, the only one to come out ahead was the undertaker. Cleaning up the mess wasn’t half as tricky as finding a way for Burt to ride away from it without getting his neck stretched at the end of a noose. Rather than take a chance on that sort of event hitting Sedley, Wolpert braced himself and said, “Fine. Say what you came to say.”

  Settling in as though he’d been invited to stay for Sunday dinner, Burt said, “Them horses belong to men who work for several big shippers including Wells Fargo. They were riding through Omaha carrying a haul bigger than anything we’ve ever gotten before.”

  “Really? Those horses must have had some real good hiding places.”

  “Didn’t need much space to hide this,” Burt replied as he removed the pouch that had been given to him earlier that night.

  “You want me to guess or—” Wolpert was cut short when the pouch was tossed to him. Any other time, he would have been able to snatch it easily. After all the whiskey he’d drunk, the lawman counted himself lucky that he deflected the pouch before it smacked him in the face. He grunted while bending down to scoop it up off the floor and then dumped its contents into the palm of his hand. “A key?”

  “Yep. One of two keys. The other one’s probably in the bridle or—”

  Suddenly, Wolpert jumped to his feet. “Hold on, now. This means your men went back and stole them horses? Damn it, you’re worried about you looking bad? How do you think this makes me look?”

  The next thing Burt tossed hit Wolpert’s chest. The sheriff held it there and immediately recognized the texture of the thin bundle of cash. “That’s to smooth this over. There’s more comin’.”

  “Enough to pay for those horses?”

  “Enough for you to buy those horses, the livery they were taken from and every other thing in this godforsaken town.”

  The whiskey haze had soaked into his system and become swirling pain a while ago, but Wolpert had to wonder if some of it wasn’t still hanging on. He checked the bundle of cash once more and guessed it was slightly smaller than the normal amount he received for looking the other way when a petty crime had been committed. “What’s on your mind, Burt? I won’t let you use this town for a refuge if you bring the federals in after whatever scheme you’re planning.”

  “That ain’t quite it.”

  “So enlighten me.”

  “You might want to sit down for this.”<
br />
  Burt Sampil’s mood swayed faster and wider than the tip of a lasso. Instead of trying to get him to speak more succinctly, Wolpert played along. After sitting back on his cot, he held his hands out and gazed expectantly at the outlaw. “Good enough?”

  “This is a big job,” Burt replied. “So big that I need you to go along for the whole ride.”

  “Where?”

  “Back to Omaha for one. That’s where those horses came from and men will be looking for ’em if they don’t show up wherever they’re bound to go. They probably already organized some sort of search and I need someone with a badge to report back that everything’s back on schedule. Can’t have Wells Fargo getting wise that there’s something amiss.”

  “Isn’t Wells Fargo still after you for those stagecoach robberies outside of Tombstone last year?”

  “Five thousand dollars on my head alone,” Burt proudly replied. “After I took that shipment headed for the Dakotas, it doubled. I hear them boys at Wells Fargo have hired men who do nothin’ more than hunt me down. Why do you think I need so much outside help with this job? To get these keys where they need to go, I’ll need some particular men. You need to spring them out of Dog Creek Jail.”

  Wolpert’s stomach fell as if the rest of him had been dumped off the side of a cliff. “You expect me to just waltz in and waltz out of Dog Creek with prisoners?”

  “Throw your weight around. It’s what you do, ain’t it?”

  “It’s not as easy as all that.”

  “Well, you must’ve just spoiled me rotten over the last few years,” Burt said, sneering. “Usually, all I need to do is tell you my troubles, throw some money at you and then wait for them troubles to disappear. It’s been like that ever since your predecessor stepped aside.”

  Wolpert winced at the sound of that. He always winced when he thought about Sheriff Vincent and what had become of him.

  “Besides,” Burt added whether he took notice of the wince or not, “things will get real messy if you don’t step up like I’m asking you to.”

  Relieved to feel his painful memories washed away by a wave of anger, Wolpert asked, “Is that a threat?”

  “No, and it ain’t fortune-telling either. Without you there to do things all official-like, my boys will have to go in there and bust them men out unofficially.” After letting that sink in for a moment or two, Burt added, “And if they ain’t up to the job, I’ll go in and do it. Shouldn’t take too long, but it could get a lot messier than if some crooked lawman just rode up and asked nicely.”

  A heaviness filled the air around Wolpert as though the weight he felt on his shoulders was taking physical form.

  “Aww,” Burt cooed. “You don’t like being called that? I suppose I don’t like being called a killer or a thief, even if that’s what I am. So,” he said in a tone that was a stark contrast to the previous one, “what’s it going to be? You gonna help me and get rich or step aside and let things get messy?”

  “If I’m to do this, I want to do it alone.”

  “No. You’ll take my men along. Otherwise, them prisoners might be overly zealous when they get out.”

  “Then your men will follow my orders,” Wolpert said, since he hadn’t truly expected to be granted his first wish.

  “Sounds agreeable.”

  “Whatever the final take of this job is, I want half.”

  “Ten percent.”

  “Thirty.”

  “Twenty. That’s more than any of those three you butted heads with the other night will get, so don’t ask for a penny more.”

  Since he would have settled for fifteen, Wolpert sealed the deal and said, “Now get out of my home so I can get some sleep.”

  Chapter 6

  Sheriff Wolpert had to walk only a short way across town, but there was a whole lot of history separating him between his cabin and the little house he’d used to call home. It was midmorning when he made the trip and the street was filled with people tending their business or riding into Sedley for the first time. The lawman tipped his hat to all of them without getting a single response. He considered striking up a conversation with the owner of the general store, but that would have only delayed the inevitable. Wolpert had business to conduct and there was no getting around it.

  Walking up the steps that led to an all-too-familiar front door, Wolpert removed his hat and knocked. Curtains were moved aside from a front window so someone inside could look out at him before quickly pulling them back into place.

  A petite woman reluctantly opened the door. Her short black hair was tied back with a kerchief, but Wolpert knew well enough that the soft curls were normally bouncy as coils of ribbon. Her rounded cheeks were smeared with dirt and the front of her light brown dress was equally smudged. He could remember days when such a disheveled state would endear him to his wife even more. Now she just looked annoyed and dirty.

  “What is it, Zeke?” she asked.

  “Doing some cleaning?”

  “Yes, and I’d like to get back to it.”

  “I just wanted to let you know I’d be away for a while. Just in case someone asked about me.”

  “Nobody asks,” she snipped. “They know you well enough to figure out what you’re doing and I’m always glad to see you go.”

  “I’m still living in that old cabin on the edge of town.”

  Standing in the doorway as if to block any hope of entry, she said, “If you think I’m letting you back into this house, you’re mistaken. You’re no more my husband than you are a real lawman.”

  In the time when he’d been courting her, those words might have cut him to the quick. Compared to some of the other beauts she’d thrown at him of late, they were fairly tame. “I’m not trying to stir anything up with you, Janie. I . . .” He had no problem spotting the flicker of disgust that drifted across her face. Lowering his head and holding his hat in both hands, he said, “Sorry. I meant Jane. All I meant to say was that I’m still living in that cabin, so there’s no living expenses as such for me. If you need any money to get along, you’re welcome to it.”

  Jane’s anger lessened, but not by much. “I need to get some new windows to replace the ones blown out by that storm in the fall. And then there’s food and such.”

  “Here,” Wolpert said as he fished out one of the bundles of cash he’d recently acquired. “Before you think of anything else, just take this. It should keep you going for a while.”

  She snatched the money from him quicker than a dog helping itself to table scraps. After flipping through the bundle and stuffing it into a pocket, she looked at the lawman even closer. “What have you been into lately?”

  “You haven’t heard?”

  “All I heard is that you gunned down poor Frank Wellsley. Did someone pay you for that?”

  “Poor Frank, huh? How is it that you take anyone’s side, so long as it isn’t mine?”

  “After living with you, I learned that anyone else’s side was worth taking.”

  Wolpert had to chuckle at her sense of drama. Of all the time they’d had together, he’d spent most of it on the trail while she spent whatever money he’d brought home after the previous ride. Jane wasn’t exactly an evil woman, but she figured cooking his meals entitled her to most of what he’d earned no matter how much blood he’d spilt to get it. Back when they used to live in the bigger house, he’d been shot while collecting protection money from the pig farms out east. Jane complained just as much about tending to his bandages as she did about the money they’d missed from the part of the route he’d been forced to neglect because of his injury. When he’d gotten angry enough to say something, she’d kicked him out of her life and there was no sign of her disposition improving in the slightest.

  “I’ll be away for a while,” he said. “Maybe a long time.”

  “Do you have a new job lined up?” Suddenly, Jane’s face brightened more than the day when he’d proposed. “Is it something big? Will we be rich?”

  Wolpert couldn’t help being
disappointed with just how simply her mind worked. He thought she might get worked up if she caught a whiff of the money that Burt had offered, and here it was. Too bad that was the only thing he knew that would make her smile again. “No,” he sighed. “We won’t be rich.”

  “Oh,” she huffed as every trace of joy disappeared from her. “Whatever you get, I want my share, you know.”

  “Yeah. Believe me, I know.”

  His next stop was the Thrown Shoe Livery. The large front doors were wide open and Matt sat in a chair with his feet propped up on the second rail of a fence encircling the small lot next to the stable. “Howdy, Sheriff,” he said.

  “Good day to you. Your sister about?”

  “She’s cleaning the stalls.”

  Once again, Wolpert wasn’t surprised. By the time he’d walked past Matt and into the stable, the other man was stretched out and resuming his nap.

  The first sign of Lucy Wolpert he found was a glimpse of her rump poking out from the corner stall. She was on all fours, vigorously scrubbing the floor with a brush in each hand. “I’d stand up to say hello, Sheriff, but I’m too busy. After all the trouble we both went through, those horses were still stolen.”

  That was the third nonsurprise that day. Wolpert braced himself and hoped he wouldn’t hear anything unexpected when he asked, “Was anyone hurt?”

  Continuing to scrub the floor as if she were trying to dig all the way down to bedrock, Lucy replied, “No. The yellow dogs snuck in and out in the middle of the night. Lord only knows how that could have happened considering the fine job my brothers do of watching this place.”

  Wolpert tried to keep quiet, but had to chuckle when a loud snore erupted from Matt’s open mouth. Looking up at him with a stern glare, Lucy eventually let her head hang. She swiped away the hair that had fallen to cover her face and said, “They didn’t leave a mess, but I just want to be rid of everything to do with those thieves or the horses they stole.”

  “That stall looks plenty clean to me.”

  “It is. Still, I need something to keep my hands busy before I knock a hole through a wall or wring the necks of these good-for-nothing lazy fools I’m surrounded by. Sounds sort of crazy when I come out and say it like that.”