“Put it on the ground, Injun,” Zeb said.
B.W. pulled the tomahawk from his belt and dropped it on the ground.
“What’re you doin’ on my stage?” Zeb asked.
“Was catchin’ up to this hombre,” B.W. said, looking at Billy. “He stole our money.”
“That right?” Zeb said, looking at Billy.
“No. I’m the sheriff of Buffalo Flats. They stole the money from the Pinefield Bank in Arkansas. I was takin’ it back.”
“Well if you were, you’re goin’ the wrong way,” Zeb said.
“Was trying to throw them off my trail and double back,” Billy said.
“Don’t see no badge,” Zeb said.
“That’s ‘cause he quit and ran off with the money,” B.W. said. “We got it from the bank robbers and left it with him for the bank it came from, then found out he took off with it.”
“This gets more confusing by the minute,” Zeb said. “Guess I’ll have to tie you up and sort this out when we get to Daring.”
“You going to tie us up, too?” Sadie said. There was something in her voice that made it sound like she might enjoy it.
“No ma’am,” Shorty said.
She looked at her companion and sighed.
Tommy eased his hand into his saddle bags and quickly removed the Colt and held it beside his leg.
He took a step towards Zeb. When the two men kept looking at the ladies, Tommy took another step behind Zeb and stuck the Colt to the back of his head.
“Put your shotguns down or I’ll blow a hole in you both,” Tommy said.
“He means it,” B.W. said. “Drop ‘em.”
Zeb dropped his shotgun, then Shorty. Billy made a run for Shorty’s shotgun and B.W. tripped him, stepped on his hand and he let out a yell.
“Damn that hurt!” Billy said.
“Was supposed to,” B.W. said.
B.W. picked up Shorty’s shotgun and Rance Zeb’s.
“Now what,” Zeb said.
“Nothin’ unless you give us a reason,” B.W. said. “Ladies, get on the stage and Billy, you stay right where you are.” B.W. opened the stage door and picked up Billy’s saddle bags off the seat. “Guess you ladies don’t cotton to Indians so you can get on by yourself.”
The two ladies helped each other back on the stage, sat down and Sadie stuck her arm out the window, shaking her fist at B.W. “The law’s gonna get you!” she yelled.
“Pray for me,” B.W. said and grinned.
“You can take your stage out of here if you keep going,” Rance said. “Billy stays with us.”
“Might need them shotguns. Indians and such,” Zeb said and looked at B.W.
“I’ll put them in the stage, you can stop and get them later,” Rance said. “But it better be a long ways from here.”
“Or this Indian will scalp you,” B.W. said.
Zeb and Shorty swallowed hard climbed up on the seat and Zeb picked up the reins. The horses’ harnesses rattled as he pulled the reins tight and they started off in a walk. Zeb cracked the whip over their heads. They broke into a gallop and were gone.
Tommy came riding up with B.W.’s horse and handed him the reins. B.W. held on to the reins and took the saddle bags off his arm and looked in.
“Looks like most of it’s still here.” He put the saddle bags on his horse’s neck where he could see them.
“What’re we goin’ to do with him?” Tommy said.
“Well,” B.W. said, “we got the money back, no sense killin’ him now. Billy, it’s not very far back to town. You can walk, buy you a horse and go on to California. Your gun is somewhere back on the trail.”
“Got no reason to go now,” Billy said.
“Better go to save your ass. If I ever see you again, I’ll kill you,” B.W. said.
“I know when it’s over.” Billy turned to the road, looked back and waved at B.W. and walked away, backtracking on the road to Buffalo Flats.
B.W. mounted his horse, Rance and Tommy followed. They rode away, Billy watching as they topped a hill and disappeared.
“Son of a bitch!” Billy yelled at the empty road and set out walking back to town, looking for the ivory-handled Navy Colt.
18
The horses were beginning to drop their head and walk slower. Time for a stop.
They found a small creek further down the trail, washed up, unsaddled their horses, gave them some oats and tied them to a tree limb. They laid their weapons on the saddles, started a fire and put a pot of beans on and settled down for some rest. As usual, Rance handed out the orders for the night. He placed his coffee cup on his notepad to hold it down and started writing in it. B.W. got his whiskey from Tommy’s saddle bags and laid the money bags down beside him.
“What’re you writing, major?” Tommy said.
“The ABCs.”
“What’s that?”
“The ABCs, the alphabet. You have to learn how to read letters before you can read words. After I get them on paper we’ll start with four letters at a time until you know the alphabet.”
“Boy, I wish I had some biscuits,” B.W. said to himself, looking around like they would magically appear.
Rance and Tommy looked at B.W. and then each other and went back to talking.
“After we eat some beans we’ll start,” Rance said. “It all kind of comes together. If you learn to read, you can learn to write.”
Rance showed Tommy the letters and had him repeat them several times, then put TOMMY together for him to study his name.
“Beans be ready after a while, B.W. You want any?” Rance said.
“Don’t want no beans, want some biscuits,” B.W. said. He sipped his whiskey while Rance and Tommy cooked their beans, Rance teaching him the alphabet. For over an hour.
“Beans are done, sure you don’t want none?” Rance said.
“Naw, don’t think so,” B.W. said.
“You been sucking on that bottle for the last hour like it was your mama’s tit,” Rance said. “You’re drunk. We have any trouble you wouldn’t be worth a
