Escape from Fort Benton Page 3

Then he scooped up the key and coins and placed them in a box, which he pushed into a drawer. He directed them to the cages.

  Jeff paced into the cell at the opposite end to the prisoner. Nathan joined him.

  Buckthorn swung the cell door closed and locked it with a key from a large ring of similar keys that were all broadly of the same size as their key. Buckthorn returned to his desk, placed the ring of keys on a hook on the wall behind his desk, then left the jailhouse, slamming and locking the heavy door behind him.

  Nathan considered the prisoner, noting he was still sitting hunched and silent. Then he shuffled closer to Jeff.

  ‘He didn’t look at our key,’ he whispered.

  ‘I know,’ Jeff said, rubbing his ribs ruefully. ‘That just proves to me that the money is up in that storeroom.’

  Nathan narrowed his eyes. ‘Why? What do you reckon is happening here?’

  Jeff drew Nathan to the cell bars furthest away from the prisoner.

  ‘I reckon Decker’s been taking a cut of local trade or something similar and that cut gets delivered here, then taken up to the storeroom. Buckthorn is a straight lawman and knows nothing about it. So I reckon we’ve got every right to get our hands on Decker’s ill-gotten dollars.’

  Nathan smiled, noting that for all his hulking unsubtle talk and actions, his friend had a quick mind.

  ‘Then we’ve got to hope Buckthorn can prove our story.’

  ‘He should. We asked for work everywhere. Even if he doesn’t believe what he hears, we didn’t do much of anything wrong.’ Jeff kneaded his shoulders, wincing. ‘That beating should be the worst we’ll get.’

  Nathan nodded. ‘Yeah. Buckthorn can’t keep us in here for long. We should be out long before Wednesday.’

  Jeff’s questing fingers located a tender spot. His eyes flared and in irritation he slapped a bar, the sound ringing in the jailhouse.

  ‘We should,’ he said, raising his voice for the first time, ‘but I still hate being locked up and I sure don’t want to spend a whole day in this place.’

  Nathan was about to console Jeff, but a loud snort ripped out. He looked up to see the prisoner had raised his head and was looking at them.

  ‘A whole day,’ he intoned, his low voice hollow. ‘You don’t want to spend a whole day in this stinking rat-hole.’

  ‘You can’t blame us for that . . .’ Nathan raised his eyebrows.

  The prisoner looked aloft, shaking his head, then sneered.

  ‘I’m Kenton Taylor, and I can blame you because some people just don’t know how lucky they are.’

  Nathan guessed the reason for Kenton’s sullen attitude and despite the urge to complain about his numerous aches and pains, he paced across the cell to be closer to him.

  ‘I guess it doesn’t sound grateful from where you’re sitting. How long have you been in here?’

  ‘A week.’

  ‘And how much longer have you got?’

  ‘Five days,’ Kenton grunted, then slapped the floor beside him. ‘Then they’ll drag me out of this cell, take me into the plaza, and shoot me.’

  Kenton gestured across his chest, Nathan taking his action as his forming the sign of the cross.

  Nathan gulped, backing a pace without thinking.

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘They say I’m the man who shot Frank Reed.’

  Nathan could think of nothing to say to this and lowered his head, but Jeff tapped his arm and drew him closer.

  ‘Five days from now is Wednesday,’ he whispered.

  Nathan provided a slow nod, then drew Jeff into a conspiratorial huddle.

  ‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘Maybe we got it wrong about the money being in the storeroom. Maybe we have to free Kenton to get the ten thousand dollars as a reward.’

  ‘Or maybe not. The initials on the gun the man gave us were FR. Frank Reed?’ Jeff looked at Nathan until he winced. ‘Perhaps we don’t have to free Kenton. Perhaps we have to use Frank’s gun to kill him to get that reward.’

  Nathan nodded and then looked across the jailhouse at Kenton.

  ‘Who’s Frank Reed?’ he asked, raising his voice.

  ‘Why do you want to know?’ Kenton asked.

  ‘I’m just making conversation.’ Nathan shrugged. ‘We could be sharing each other’s company for a while.’

  ‘Only until Wednesday.’ Kenton snorted a harsh laugh. ‘I’m not going to be talkative after that, but you two are mighty talkative now, what with all that whispering about me.’

  Nathan tipped back his hat. ‘We were just debating whether we should talk to the man who they say shot Frank Reed.’

  ‘Don’t waste your breath.’

  ‘What about friends?’ Jeff asked. ‘Perhaps there’s somebody out there trying to free you.’

  As Kenton leapt to his feet, Nathan glared at Jeff, his wide eyes chiding him for his unsubtle question.

  ‘What have you heard?’ Kenton demanded, standing before the bars.

  ‘Nothing,’ Jeff said, backing away a pace and raising his hands.

  Kenton thrust an arm through the bars and aimed a shaking finger at him.

  ‘Then don’t say things like that and get a dying man’s hopes up.’

  Kenton withdrew his hand then slapped the bars. He swung round to face away from them with a determined swing of the head.

  After that, none of them invited conversation again and after two hours of silent sitting, punctuated by the occasional groan when either man moved and found a new sore spot, the reek of whiskey heralded Sheriff Buckthorn’s return.

  He clutched hold of the jailhouse door as if it were the only thing that was stopping him from falling, confirming he had checked out their story while propping up the saloon bar.

  ‘I’ve got me some good news,’ he said, his tone bright. He snaked across the jailhouse towards his desk, his grin showing none of the distrust he’d shown before. ‘Plenty of people agreed with your story.’

  ‘Does that mean we can go?’ Nathan asked.

  Buckthorn swiped the keys from the hook, knocking them to the floor. He planted his feet wide apart and stooped over them, tutting as if the keys had made the mistake in not staying in his hand, then swooped down to pick them up.

  ‘It sure does.’ He clamped a tongue between his lips as he paced across the jailhouse, selecting the right key. ‘I don’t keep nobody in a cell who’s looking for work.’

  Buckthorn lunged for the lock, slipping the key in on his first attempt, and grinned at his success. He swung the door open.

  Both Nathan and Jeff released a sigh of relief.

  ‘Obliged.’

  Buckthorn waggled a finger at them. ‘Take some advice and look for that work somewhere else. You annoyed Mayor Decker and if he sees you around, you won’t live long enough to regret it.’

  Buckthorn patted his substantial belly, then lurched round on the spot and staggered back to his desk. He placed the tin containing their belongings on the desk, then flopped into a chair and leaned back, pulling his hat down over his face.

  Nathan followed him and pocketed the coins. He avoided taking the key first but when he did, he slipped it in his pocket quickly.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Nathan said. ‘We’ll leave just as soon as we can.’

  Without raising his hat, Buckthorn waved towards the main door using a shooing away gesture.

  Nathan followed Jeff from the jailhouse, but he stopped by the door to look at Kenton, who throughout their release hadn’t looked up to acknowledge them. Then he considered the lock, noting that the keyhole was larger than the key he had. The door that led into the plaza was the same size.

  He headed outside. As the last rays of the dying sun were now reddening the tower, more people were wandering about and the guards were no longer outside the door to the tower.

  However, a glow lit the tunnel leading to the plaza and some chatter sounded, suggesting they were now sheltering inside and enjoying a smoke.

  Nathan joined Jeff in walking
towards the saloon.

  ‘So, are we taking Buckthorn’s advice?’ he said.

  ‘The likes of Mayor Decker can’t order me about,’ Jeff said, jutting his chin defiantly. Then he sighed. ‘But this place isn’t big enough for us to stay out of his way for long. If we’re defying him, we’ve got to be careful.’

  Nathan nodded. ‘Agreed. I reckon Kenton Taylor is innocent and the key is to his cell.’

  ‘All outlaws claim they’re innocent.’ Jeff stopped. ‘Kenton is a convicted outlaw and we’ve got no right getting involved with him. If we free him, he could just slit our throats and steal everything we’ve got.’

  Nathan shrugged. ‘He could, but I don’t reckon anyone would have tried to kill a man who’ll die in five days. It’s more likely we’re supposed to free him.’

  Jeff provided a slow nod. ‘Then we’d better start by doing what Sheriff Buckthorn did and ask about Kenton in the saloon.’

  Nathan agreed to this plan with a huge grin. Two minutes later they were leaning on the bar in the saloon.

  Two men wearing the red coats that identified them as being Decker’s men were amongst the customers. As neither of them was one of the guards who’d beaten them, Nathan questioned the bartender under the guise of finding out with whom they’d just shared the jailhouse.

  ‘Kenton Taylor and Frank Reed,’ the bartender said, then gave a low whistle. ‘Now there is one sorry tale. They’re the only surviving sons of two warring ranchers to the south of Providence. The Bar J and Bar Z range war ripped everyone apart for ten years, but both families lost so many kin that they reached a truce five years back.’

  ‘But now that truce’s ended?’ Nathan asked.

  The bartender shrugged. ‘Frank’s death was the first thing I’d heard of to suggest that it had. After their fathers died, Kenton’s sister, Nancy, married Frank Reed and their cattle have carried a new brand, the Bar T.’

  ‘Who’ll run the Bar T when both Frank and Kenton are out of the way?’

  ‘It could be Nancy, but the rumor I’d heard . . .’ The bartender glanced around, confirming nobody was close. ‘Mayor Decker has been buying up land at rock-bottom prices and his territory now reaches from the Bar T to here. The rumor is that once Kenton pays for what he did, Decker will buy up the ranch for another low price.’

  Nathan detected the suspicion in the bartender’s low tone and he reckoned he’d have said more if one of the red-coated men hadn’t then come to the bar.

  ‘I’d heard about you two,’ he said, standing up to them. ‘Enjoy this one drink, then leave town.’

  Without building on his threat, the man headed back to his table. While the bartender poured them two whiskeys Nathan noted the interest in Jeff’s lively eyes, despite the threat.

  ‘You reckon there’s anything suspicious about that rumor?’ Nathan asked the bartender.

  ‘Nope,’ the bartender said in a loud voice, his nervous polishing of the bar replacing his previous enthusiasm for idle chatter. He pushed their drinks towards them.

  ‘But you sounded suspicious.’

  ‘I sure didn’t,’ the bartender said, then lowered his voice and leaned towards Nathan. ‘As you didn’t understand your warning – people who ignore advice or talk too much . . . Let’s just say nobody gets to see them again.’

  Nathan nodded. ‘In that case I have one final question. Where did Kenton kill Frank?’

  ‘Out at the Bar T,’ the bartender said, shrugging. ‘Mayor Decker was the only witness and he saw him blast Frank right between the eyes. Now, you’ve asked too many questions and if I were you, I’d shut up and go.’

  The bartender hurried off down the bar to deal with another customer, leaving Nathan and Jeff to head to a table near the door.

  ‘All right,’ Jeff said, when he’d checked that nobody was close enough to hear. ‘I agree the case against Kenton sounds suspect and we ought to help him, but we’re in a fort under Decker’s control and we’ve been told to leave. How can we break a man out of the jailhouse before someone gives us more than just another warning?’

  ‘A jailhouse isn’t as strong as the bars on the windows and the thickness of the walls. It’s as strong as the person defending it. So we can use the subtle way.’ Nathan pointed to the bar. ‘Buckthorn reeked of whiskey and I reckon he’s wishing he could check out our story some more in here.’

  Jeff snorted. ‘So you reckon one of us should just invite him here for a drink while the other frees Kenton?’

  ‘Nope.’ Nathan stood up and turned to the door. ‘We’ll do the next best thing.’

  Chapter Four

  ‘What do you two want now?’ Buckthorn muttered, pacing back from the door. ‘I told you to leave town.’

  Nathan glanced over his shoulder to confirm nobody had followed them out of the saloon, then headed into the jailhouse with Jeff at his side.

  ‘We want to ask you where we should go next.’

  Buckthorn shuffled round to face them. ‘I don’t care. Decker’s got his eyes on you. I reckon you should just go somewhere where Decker isn’t.’

  ‘I didn’t mean that.’ Nathan withdrew the whiskey bottle from his pocket. ‘Perhaps you’d like to tell us what you’ve heard about people who’ve passed through who’ve hired before, comings and goings. We might then get us an idea about where to go.’

  Buckthorn’s eyes lit up and he reached for the bottle before he tore his gaze away from it and lowered his hand.

  ‘I don’t know much about all of that.’

  ‘A pity.’ Nathan slotted the bottle back in his pocket and turned to the door.

  ‘But it won’t hurt to talk,’ Buckthorn shouted after him. ‘Perhaps I might remember something you can use when I’ve had a drink inside me.’

  Nathan turned back and nodded. He sat on the edge of Buckthorn’s desk while Buckthorn fetched three mugs and poured generous measures for them.

  Nathan took the lead in questioning Buckthorn to avoid Jeff asking any unsubtle questions, but Buckthorn was in a talkative mood and didn’t appear to view their presence as being sinister. So he soon relented and let Jeff take over directing Buckthorn’s chatter.

  Jeff kept to the safe subjects of where they might find work and who might hire them and this encouraged Buckthorn to ramble on between swigging the whiskey.

  Everything he said veered back to his mistrust of Decker and he related a catalogue of complaints about his actions since he’d taken over two years ago. He confirmed his success in buying up the land around Fort Benton and he commented on how local traders often sent him goods for little or no charge.

  Throughout his complaints, Nathan and Jeff sipped their drinks, the liquor helping to dull their aches, but they refused a refill at least three times as many times as they accepted. Even then they both surreptitiously spilled whiskey on the floor when Buckthorn wasn’t looking their way.

  Early on, Nathan caught Kenton’s eye in the end cell. From his bright eyes and attentive posture Nathan reckoned he was wise to what they were trying to do.

  When Kenton swayed from side to side, miming being the inebriated sheriff, then drew a finger across his neck, Nathan turned his back on him and rejoined the chatter.

  Several hours later, the second bottle was almost empty and Nathan was wondering whether they’d have to risk heading to the saloon to buy another when Buckthorn started to suffer from his excesses.

  First, his eyes glazed. Then they closed. His head lowered until his chin rested on his chest.

  Jeff nudged the sheriff. This brought him sufficiently awake to refill his mug.

  He brought it to his lips, leaning back in his chair, then continued leaning back until the chair toppled. He landed flat on his back with him still lying with legs elevated and splayed over the front of the chair.

  As the whiskey pooled out of the mug, a loud snore rasped out. Jeff nudged him with a toe, this time receiving another snore.

  ‘Hurry up and get me out of here,’ Kenton said from his cell.
<
br />   ‘Be quiet,’ Nathan said, kneeling beside Jeff and watching the sleeping sheriff to confirm he wouldn’t open an eye and demand yet another refill. ‘We don’t want to wake him. He’s only drunk.’

  ‘Then knock him out.’

  ‘We’re not doing that,’ Nathan snapped, waving his hands downwards in a sign that Kenton should keep his voice down. ‘We want to be able to explain ourselves if this all goes wrong.’

  Kenton looked skyward. ‘Then quit talking and get me out of this cell and nothing will go wrong.’

  Nathan stood up. He patted Jeff’s back then bade him to stand by the main door and check nobody was approaching the jailhouse.

  Then he paced over to the cell, walking quietly and slipping the key from his pocket. He slotted the key in the lock.

  It’d been some hours since he’d convinced himself that the key would fit Kenton’s cell. So his discovery that it was too large for the lock made him flinch back.

  ‘The keys are over there,’ Kenton said, pointing to the hook behind Buckthorn’s desk.

  Nathan examined the key in his hand, his mind whirling. As the key didn’t fit the lock to Kenton’s cell, there was now no reason to suppose they had to free Kenton to get the $10,000 reward.

  ‘It’s all quiet out there,’ Jeff said from the door. ‘Hurry up and get him out.’

  ‘The key doesn’t fit,’ Nathan intoned.

  Kenton glared at him through the bars as Nathan fingered the key, his shock rooting him to the spot.

  Jeff hurried over to the desk and collected the loop of keys. He fumbled through the keys to find one of the right size, his raised eyebrows questioning Nathan as to what was wrong.

  Nathan was still pondering on whether there was any real evidence to support his theory that the men in the gunfight were planning to break Kenton out of jail. He had just decided there wasn’t when Kenton lunged through the bars.

  Nathan saw his intent and also lunged, but he was too late and Kenton snatched the loop from Jeff’s grasp. With a deft twirl of the wrist, he found the right key.

  His quick actions spoke of the time he’d spent in an apparent stupor when he was in fact noting any possible ways to escape if an opportunity arose.