Chapter 19
At noon, Conn walked over to the saloon. He saw Bill Sheffield coming from the opposite direction.
There wasn’t much of a crowd waiting for them.
In fact, it was only the burly redhead, McKay.
Conn shook his hand. “Where is everybody?”
McKay spread his hands. “Guess they lost their nerve. Or maybe their wives caught wind of what they were fixing to do. Whatever the case, it looks like it’s just the three of us.”
“Rather have three good men than twenty pretenders,” Sheffield said.
“Agreed,” Conn said. “Let’s get our horses and head over to the mercantile and stock up.”
McKay had two horses. “In case we want to swap out,” he explained.
“Good thinking,” Conn said. He would leave the paint pony for Mary but take the horses of the other two men he’d killed on the trail with them, so that he and Sheffield could do the same.
They were in and out of the store quick and ready to get on the trail.
Conn looked toward the saloon, figuring maybe some volunteers might have showed up late, but the boardwalk remained empty.
“Who we chasing first?” McKay asked.
“I reckon we’ll get after Toole and them first.”
Sheffield and McKay accepted this news with nods.
But a few seconds later, as they were riding down the street, a small voice cried out to Conn by name, calling him Mr. Sullivan.
It was the kid he’d talked to outside the doctor’s office the night before.
“What can I do for you, son?” Conn asked.
“Well, sir, I just wanted to let you know I saw Ben Blake early this morning after you pulled out of here.”
“You did?”
“Yes, sir. He rode into town on that big white horse of his. Couldn’t miss him.”
“Where is he?”
The boy shrugged. “He rode up to the boarding house and went inside and come back out a minute later with a bag over his shoulder. Guess he rounded up his stuff. That’s where he’d been staying of late.”
“And he rode back out?”
“That’s right.”
“Which way did he go?”
“South.”
Which told Conn very little. All the outlaws had been south of here. Blake might’ve been with Toole, one half of the duo, or the solo rider.
There was no way to tell. That being said, he doubted Blake was one of the ones who’d ridden off with Toole. Unless he’d quit the trail and come back. That would be all right.
But if he had to guess, he figured Blake was either the solo rider or one of the pair who’d fled the mix-up together.
“Tell me about Ben Blake,” Conn said.
“Don’t know much about him,” the kid said. “He came to Fairplay maybe six or eight months ago. Worked here and there. Never really stuck no place. He likes to drink, I’ll tell you that. And he gets mean when he drinks.”
“What’s he look like?”
“He’s maybe a few years older than you, sort of average height. Brown hair, short brown beard. Walks kinda bowlegged and wears a handkerchief around his neck most times. Heard he shot somebody once down in Arizona.”
Conn thanked him and gave him another dollar.
“Kid did a good job describing Blake,” Sheffield said once the boy was gone.
“You know him?”
“Not really. Seen him in the saloon sometimes. Like the kid said, Blake likes to drink, and he’s a mean drunk. Just a couple weeks ago, he caused trouble over at the boarding house. I figured they’d kicked him out.”
“I heard him and Beulah were sweet on each other,” McKay said.
“That the woman who runs the place?” Conn asked.
McKay nodded.
“Guess we’d better ride over and talk to her,” Conn said.
“Let’s go,” Sheffield said.
They started in that direction.
“I got a feeling Blake didn’t go far,” Conn said.
“Why do you think that?” McKay asked.
“Just a hunch,” Conn said.
“I got the same feeling,” Sheffield said. “I think Toole and those boys crossed the range last night or maybe this morning. I’ll bet Blake’s the one who rode off on his own.”
Conn nodded. It felt right. “I bet he’s close by, and I’m thinking maybe we ask around, somebody might know where he is.”
“Sounds good,” Sheffield said. “Sure would be nice to put him down before he comes to his senses and runs clear out of the country.”
Sheffield stated this plainly, like he was planning to cull chickens, not end a man’s life.
Conn liked that. He was riding with the right man.
“I’m hoping to keep him alive long enough to make him talk,” Conn said.