found.”
“Seems to me like their bodies were never found, either.” Wyatt said. “I think you must have got your information wrong, mister, or someone was feeedin’ you a story. I’m not aware of any men by those names bein’ murdered.”
Lucas stared at hint, completely taken aback. “Ben Summers, Josh Billings and Joe McEnery? Those names mean nothing to you?”
Wyatt shook his head. “Never heard of ’em. Where’d you get this story?”
Lucas shook his head. “Why. I. I’m not exactly sure. I think I must have heard it in the bar over at the hotel. But I suppose I might have got it wrong somehow. You’re sure those names mean nothing to you? Three men found dead in very mysterious circumstances?”
Wyatt smiled. “Sounds to me like somebody was pullin’ your leg. You’re liable to get some of that around here. City slicker like yourself, out to write about the Wild frontier, folks are liable to string you along a bit. You’ll have to watch out for that sort of thing.”
Lucas was thoroughly confused. Why would Earp deny any knowledge of the killings? It made no sense, unless he wasn’t anxious to have some reporter from back Fast writing about a case he couldn’t solve. But then, surely he’d hear about it from others in town. Maybe it was just Earp’s way of not wanting to talk about it.
Well… I guess maybe I might’ve got taken in a bit.” said Lucas. “I did tell people I was looking for interesting stories about life on the frontier. Somebody might have just made that one up to get a few drinks out of me.”
“You offer drinks for stories, mister, you’ll get more than your share; said Earp, with a smile, “and most of ’em right fanciful, to boot. But I don’t guess that really makes much difference, does it” You writers like to spice things up a bit. I don’t suppose it does much harm.”
“No, I… I don’t suppose it does,” Lucas replied, still mystified by Earp’s curious denial. “But I was wondering.-”
“The stage’s been robbed!” someone shouted.
Wyatt was on his feet in an instant, rushing over to the man.
“What happened?” he demanded.
“They shot Bud Philpot! Bob got the stage back, but Bud’s dead and one of the passengers was shot. They didn’t get the silver shipment.”
“I’m goin’ to need a posse!” Wyatt called out, quickly taking charge. “Lem, you run down and get Virg and Morg. Where’s Bob at?”
“He’s outside with the stage,” said the man who came running in with the news. “He got banged up some, but he’s okay.”
“You need some help. Marshal’” Neilson asked.
“I can use a good gun, Kid. Come along.”
“Marshal Earp!” said Lucas. “I’d like to ride along, if I
“A posse’s no place for a greenhorn, mister. No offense.”
“I can ride,” said Lucas. “I know how to shoot, too. I used to be a soldier. I’d like to help.”
“All right, if you feel you’re up to it, we’ll get you a rifle. Come along.”
Still no sign of recognition from Neilson, thought Lucas. All right, he’d wait and see. They went out into the street and hurried a short distance down the block, to where the stage had pulled up. Sheriff Behan was already there, along with several other men. A crowd was gathering rapidly. Wyatt pushed his way through to the man at the center of attention, the shotgun guard, Bob Paul. He was covered with dust and his clothing was disheveled
“What happened, Bob?” asked Wyatt.
“I was just akin’ him that,” said Sheriff Behan, irritably. Lucas noticed a look of dislike between the two men.
“They got us a short way out of Contention.” Paul said. “Bud was havin’ stomach cramps, so I told him I could drive for a bit till they eased up. We’d pulled over and traded places, but we hadn’t gotten more than a few miles north on the road to Benson when they hit us. We’d just gone across a dry wash and started up a hill when a masked man stepped out into the road and shouted. ‘Hold!’ Next thing we knew, there was a hunch of ’em around us, three, four, maybe more. I couldn’t tell, it all happened so fast. Bud went for the scattergun and they shot him. The horses-bolted and then they were all shootin”. I lost the reins and had to climb down to retrieve ’em. Almost fell off into the road,
They get the silver?” Behan asked.
“No. they didn’t get it. They didn’t have a chance ‘the horses ran off soon as they shot Bud. One of the passengers took a bullet, too. Name of Peter Roerig, was sittin’ in the dickey seat up back. He looked bad. They took him to the doc’s, but I don’t think he’s goin’ to make it.”
Virgil and Morgan had arrived. “We’re gettin’ up a posse.” Wyatt told them. “Outlaws just robbed the stage and killed Bud Philpot. If we get a move on, we might catch ’em.”
“Wait a minute. Wyatt,” Behan said. “I’m the sheriff. I’m takin’ this posse.”
“Fine, then, take it. But we’re comin’ along.”
Behan looked as if he was going to make an argument of it, then changed his mind.
“I’m goin’ too. Wyatt,” Paul said.
“You sure you’re up to it?”
They got Bud.” Paul said, with a hard edge to his voice.-I’m goin’.”
Within moments, the posse was organized and mounted, galloping out of town on the road to Contention, about eight miles northwest of Tombstone. Lucas found himself riding next to Neilson, but aside from a curious look, nothing else passed between them. Lucas wondered if Neilson was being watched by someone in the posse and was aware of it. He was playing it very cool. Until he had a chance to speak with him alone, he’d have to follow his lead. Neilson could have discovered more about what was going on here since the time he’d last made his report.
It was late by the time they reached the place where the robbery had occurred and the darkness slowed them down, making the trail hard to follow. They were still tracking the outlaws when daylight came.
“Looks like the trail’s leading to Len Redfield’s place,” said Virgil.
“Somehow I’m not surprised,” said Wyatt, dryly. “Len’s real friendly with Ike Clanton.”
The trail, as Virgil had predicted, led straight to the ranch, where they discovered several horses in the corral that had been ridden very hard.
“Looks like they might have traded horses here.” said Wyatt, as Lucas rode up beside him.
Suddenly a shot cracked out.
“Hold it right there, mister!’
It was Neilson who had yelled and fired. Lucas frowned.
That was getting a little too involved. The man who had taken off running from the corral, heading toward the house, stopped in his tracks and raised his hands in the air.
“Don’t shoot!” he shouted.
“It’s Luther King.” said Behan, riding over to him. Wyatt and Bob Paul followed.
“Virg, you and the others go and check the house.” he said. “And watch yourselves.”
“I didn’t do nothin’!” King protested. “What the hell did you shoot at me for?”
“Why’d you run, Luther’?” Wyatt asked, looking down at the man from his horse.
“How was I supposed to know who you were?” protested King. “I thought you might be outlaws!”
“Did you, now?”
“Well, how was he to know?” asked Behan.
Wyatt gave him a hard look. “Why don’t you go and check the house. Johnny? See if your friend Len can tell us anything.”
Behan hesitated, again seeming as if he was about to argue, then once more thought better of it. He wheeled his horse and trotted toward the house.
“Been out ridin’ tonight, Luther?” Wyatt asked.
“I’ve been here all night.” King replied, nervously. “I didn’t have anything to do with it.”
“You didn’t have anything to do with what, Luther?” Wyatt asked, calmly.
“With.. with whatever it is you boys are out for.”
