I got more details, time and place, descriptions, anything that Lem and his boys could think of, and then they hightailed out. There sure was some question whether Puma County would have a proper gallows up and ready for the day of the hanging.
“All right, you go cut some more wood, and next time let me know before you bring it in, and I’ll make sure you’ve got a guard,” I said.
They took off.
DeGraff eyed me. “Going out to Admiral Bragg’s place to pinch a few?”
‘I’m thinking on it. I’m also thinking just to send them a message. King Bragg’s gonna get his neck broke on the right day, even if there’s no gallows. I’ll hang him from the flagpole if that’s what it takes. So they may as well cut it out.”
“Want me to go tell Admiral?”
“Yeah, do that. Tell him we’re not waiting for a proper gallows. That boy’s gonna hang, and that’s the whole story.”
“All right. I’ll ride. See you tomorrow—if they don’t shoot me.”
“Or make a hostage of you,” I added.
He grinned.
“Keep a sharp eye out,” I said.
DeGraff headed into the afternoon, and a little later I saw him ride up the road toward the Anchor Ranch. It would be a long, lonely trek for him, and not without danger. But he’d do the job, all right. I had good deputies. Some of them, like Rusty, had started down the owlhoot trail but saw how it would end, and came on over to the sunlight side of life. That just made them better deputies. They knew how the others lived, what they thought, what they believed they could get away with, and all the ways they were foolish as well as smart. My deputies were handy with guns, but not as fast as all those gunslicks on the ranches. But Rusty and Burtell and DeGraff knew enough to know that the one that aims good is the one that wins a gunfight, and speed don’t matter much if the lead flies past its target. All three of them was pretty happy too. They was getting regular wages, had enough for a few beers after work, and the whole town of Doubtful admired them. Our mayor, George Waller, even told me that Doubtful was lucky to have me and them three keeping things quiet. It was good for business, he said.
Things weren’t so quiet lately, though.
I went back into the cells to see about King, who was staring at the ceiling.
“Anyone going to feed me this week?” he asked.
“You didn’t get fed?”
“Not since yesterday. And that pot—”
He didn’t have to say any more. It stank. That was the trouble with my deputies. Rusty and DeGraff hated to feed any prisoner or take the chamber pot out, and I’d told them a million times to do it, and take care of the men behind bars.
“How’d you like it if you were behind bars and no one fed you or got you water or took your stinking crap out?” I’d asked them.
Rusty, he just smiled. “No way I’m ever gonna be behind bars again,” he said.
Well, they weren’t perfect even if they was good men.
I beckoned, and King handed me the chamber pot, and I took it out and emptied it in the crapper, and then I pumped a pail of water and splashed it over the pot, and threw it toward the geraniums the Doubtful Women’s Club had planted. I took that back to King Bragg.
“I’ll get you some chow. It ain’t right, starving you.”
“In a week, it won’t make any difference,” he said.
I stopped. “I’m still trying to find out what happened in there. Tell me something. Did Mrs. Gladstone hear what Plug Parsons said to you?”
“She was right there.”
“And what did Plug tell you?”
“He said Crayfish was next door and wanted to see me, and wanted to send a message to my father.”
“Crayfish was next door?”
“That’s what Plug told me.”
“And was he in the Last Chance Saloon?”
“No, I didn’t see him. So I just ordered a drink from Sammy Upward while I waited.”
“And where was Plug?”
“I guess he went to get Ruble.”
“And where were the ones that got killed? The Jonas boys and Rocco?”
“Beats me,” King said. “I had my back to the room, and was facing the bar, getting a drink.”
“And then?”
“Then I was on the floor staring at the ceiling with Ruble and Plug standing over me.”
“With your gun in your hand?”
