When Hank returned to the sheriff's office, he gave the note to Jake Williams. Jake didn't read the note, and Hank hadn't expected him to. He figured that if he just kept giving the Williams' brothers things with writing on them, they'd eventually get curious and read for themselves. To that end, he took his time pouring himself a mug of coffee that was by now quite stale, sauntered over to his desk and sat in the chair behind it. He took off his hat and laid it aside, took a swig of the coffee and tipped his chair back. Jake waited, not so much as glancing at the note.
"That," Hank said enticingly, "is a copy of a message Artly sent yesterday," he downed more coffee, then added slowly, "to Virginia City."
Unfortunately, Jake was more inclined towards detective work than reading, and Hank had just inadvertently given him enough information to make an educated guess as to what the note said.
"Canaday was telling the truth," was Jake's confident guess.
Hank carefully maintained a look of blandness that he had perfected over the years by listening to people make hysterical accusations or equally hysterical declarations of innocence. He'd learned that the slightest expression would only encourage them, and they'd read whatever they wanted into it. The best he could hope for was to convince them he had no opinions of his own, though a close second was that he was completely indifferent. It usually stopped all the shouting aimed in his direction.
"So who sent it?" Jake inquired, "One of the deputies from Elodie?"
Hank didn't answer, instead he took another gulp of the bad coffee. Himself, he would simply drink coffee until it was gone before making any more. But he was looking forward to Steve getting back. Steve was more particular, and he threw day old coffee out and made fresh, usually grumbling about how he was surrounded by uncivilized people. Jake only drank coffee to wake up from a hangover.
"So I guess we've got no call to go on holding him," Jake suggested, starting to get up.
"Let him be," Hank commanded, then swallowed the last of the coffee, "Steve's not back yet."
"Aw, Hank, if the rest of what he told you was true, why would he lie about the horse? Even if he stole the Jeff Kailen Mare, he had a pretty good reason, don't you think?"
"Oh yes, a very good reason," Hank agreed, starting to sip more coffee before realizing he'd finished it in less than half a dozen large gulps, then setting the mug on his desk, "So good, in fact, that we couldn't possible risk letting him go."
Jake leaned back in his chair, a puzzled look on his face. But it cleared quickly. Jake wasn't as dumb as he looked, nor even as dumb as he acted.
"You think those men from Elodie will be back to finish what they started?" Jake asked.
"If you had committed kidnapping, planned a robbery and already attempted murder, wouldn't you?"
"I reckon I would at that," Jake replied thoughtfully, "But that's hardly an excuse to keep him locked up, is it?"
"He still unconscious?" Hank asked.
"Yep," Jake said, "Before the doc left, he said it was between Canaday and God now. Told me to check on his patient frequently, monitor the fever, but said there wasn't much else to be done."
"Well, it doesn't sound like he'll be complaining about being locked up unfairly for awhile anyway," Hank said, "He's probably better off sleepin' through it anyway."
"You expect this to turn out badly," it wasn't a question.
"Very possibly," Hank answered, "If we're assuming everything Canaday told us is true, he's been through Hell trying to save those Cartwright boys. If that fever doesn't kill him, hearing the boys didn't make it out after all he tried to do probably will."
Jake frowned, staring at the floorboards as if he expected to find something there. He usually did that when he was thinking hard about something difficult. Hank waited for Jake to catch up with him. After all, he'd read the note several minutes ago, comprehended its meaning and considered his options. And Jake didn't even know one of the most significant details in the note because he refused to read it.
"You don't intend to sit by idly and watch this thing play out, do you?" Jake inquired.
"Of course not," Hank said, "I sent a message to the Elodie sheriff, telling him that I have Canaday. I expect he'll be sending his deputies out here any time."
"What'd you go and do a thing like that for?" Jake asked, his eyebrows climbing in alarm, "They'll come here and ask to take him. They'll take him out of town and shoot him again, assuming they don't just drop him somewhere and let the wolves finish him off."
"Don't be absurd," Hank admonished, "The wolves around here only bother cattle."
"That's not what Ol' Toby says," Jake said.
"Ol' Toby can't tell a wolf from a fence post except on Sunday," Ol' Toby was always sober on Sundays, at least enough to find his way to church, "And anyway it doesn't matter. We're not giving them our prisoner in any case, so if there are man-eating wolves out there, they'll have to look for somebody else to gnaw on."
"Then I don't see why you want the Elodie sheriff to send his deputies out here," Jake confessed.
"Oh come now. Your pa was a military man, same as mine before he died," Hank said, "Didn't he ever teach you anything?"
"You know he did," Jake said, "But what are you talking about?"
"Tactics, Jake," Hank said, "One of the oldest methods of winning a fight against a group is to split it up, and take it down in pieces. Any deputies that come out here are on our ground, giving us the advantage. We stop them here, that leaves the sheriff with fewer deputies to wage war on us."
"You expect a war over the Cartwright boys?" Jake asked curiously.
"You would too, if you saw the amount of money they were after," Hank nodded towards the note, but Jake didn't look at it, "There's gonna be a shoot out before this is all over, and I'd prefer the odds to be on our side. Besides, we have some waiting ahead of us, and cutting down the numbers in Elodie is a good way to spend the time."
"What are we waiting for?" Jake wanted to know.
"If you'd read the note, you'd know," Hank replied, and would say no more about it.
Among other things, the note contained instructions that one Benjamin Cartwright come to Dewton immediately, and be prepared to part with his money if he wanted his boys alive. Hank Walker didn't like the idea of a wayward third party wandering about unattached, and he fully intended to keep an eye out for this Benjamin Cartwright, and find out what kind of man he was. If Cartwright was amenable to letting Hank carry out his plan, so much the better. But if Cartwright was under the unfortunate delusion that just giving the kidnappers what they wanted would get his boys back, Hank was prepared to arrest him to prevent his interference. Either way, it meant waiting for Cartwright to arrive.
The Cartwright boys -assuming they weren't dead already- would be safe enough until their father arrived. Then it was up to Hank to make sure they stayed that way. Until then, he planned to do everything he could to make the job easier.
Cochise could be a very particular horse when it came to making friends. He could be nippy and impatient with other horses, though he was more apt to completely ignore horses he didn't like. He didn't typically take to strangers, having the same reserve and suspicions of his master, without the human sense of etiquette and morals making him give people a fair shake before deciding he didn't like them. However Joe's fondness for women had sort of rubbed off on the little pinto, either that or Cochise pretended such in order to please his master. One could never tell what a horse had in mind.
But one way to influence Cochise's opinion was to feed him, particularly when he was hungry. The strange man with the tin badge came in and fed the horses one by one, and Cochise was so hungry, and the food tasted so good that he was instantly smitten. He finished the food placed in his bucket and, after making a thorough inspection to make sure he'd gotten it all, he stretched out his muzzle to see if the man had perhaps held back something, maybe a carrot or a bit of sugar.
"Yes, you're very cute," Mayer remarked coolly, trying to discourage the animal's friendly advances by not responding to them.
Having determined the man didn't have anything good in his pockets, Cochise grabbed the edge of the man's hat and yanked it away from its owner, then tossed it aside with a flick of his dark head.
"Hey!" the man went after the hat while Cochise looked on.
Cochise had been penned up for long enough that he'd gotten bored. And when the little pinto got bored, he got inventive and ornery, especially when there was no affectionate apology or treat offered to make up for the injustice. Having taken a liking to this man, Cochise was just playing with him.
"You're a bad horse, you know that?" Mayer said, picking up his hat and checking it for damage.
The other two horses, a big dark brown and a red chestnut, looked on without evident interest. Far as they were concerned, it was cold outside and they would be perfectly happy to stay here together where it was warm until the weather changed for the better. Now they'd been fed, they were reasonably contented. But the pinto tried to grab Mayer's hat again. Mayer swiped it out of reach.
"Come on, you!" Mayer scolded, "I fed you, and this is the thanks I get?"
Cochise stood there and gazed right at him out of intelligent brown eyes. He blew hot air out of his nostrils and flicked his ears, and Mayer remembered what the younger Cartwright had said about exercise. He supposed that was probably what the horse wanted now he was fed.
Mayer had never had any cause to inspect Josh's stable, so he had to go around back to see if there was any corral. There wasn't, which Mayer found rather annoying. He also found it irritating that Josh was nowhere in evidence. The horses needs were meant to be seen to by Josh, who knew the owners of these horses wouldn't be caring for them. What sort of irresponsible creep left horses locked up without feed and with frozen water buckets?
He went back into the barn and was greeted by a whinny from Cochise, who had been concerned that the man was going to leave him before finishing the job. Cochise expected to be groomed, and to be turned out of his stall, or else saddled up. Though he was accustomed to no other rider besides Joe, Cochise had often been cared for and saddled up by ranch hands or livery stable owners. Far as he was concerned, Mayer was a caretaker, and Cochise was going to put up a fuss if he didn't finish the job. More than one lazy ranch hand had been discovered because Cochise set to neighing and carrying on until someone came out to see that someone sent to care for him hadn't done their job right.
"Okay, okay," Mayer said, looking around for a halter and lead rope, "Settle down."
Cochise snorted and pawed at the hard floor of his stall.
"You know, Sheriff Holt would kill me if he found I'd left the jail unattended to look after you," Mayer found himself saying, finally locating a halter tossed carelessly into a corner.
When he turned back, he found the pinto staring at him, ears pricked forward, like he was listening intently to every word, a look in his eyes suggesting an eery kind of comprehension. No one could ever say for sure if Cochise really understood when Joe talked to him, though Joe would have asserted that he did, but the pinto made a magnificent illusion of it if he didn't.
Cochise was perfectly happy to lower his head so Mayer could slip the halter on and buckle it, and he was willing to be led out of his stall. But when Mayer attempted to take him from the barn, Cochise balked. Mayer tugged the lead, but Cochise merely braced himself and refused to budge. In fact, when Mayer gave him enough slack, Cochise took a few steps back, just to make extra sure his point got across to the man. He knew humans could be a little dense sometimes, particularly new people, who weren't used to the way things worked.
"Don't you want any exercise?" Mayer asked, "Aren't you tired of being locked up in here?"
Recognizing the inquiring tone, Cochise helpfully looked around until he spotted a brush, then he stared at it until Mayer followed his gaze.
"Oh," Mayer said meekly, "I see."
Cochise happily turned around and walked with Mayer to the more sheltered interior of the barn. Mayer tied the lead off, and picked up the brush Cochise had pointed out to him. It was in pretty bad shape, worn and ill-cared for, but he figured it would do the job well enough.
Cochise was annoyed to find that Mayer wasn't very skilled with a brush, and required a bit of correction. He didn't pick up on subtle signals like flicking ears, so Cochise opted to side step away from him when he brushed the wrong way or started in the wrong place, and moved in closer when his technique was too soft or hesitant. He pawed the barn floor to signal impatience if Mayer lingered too long in one place that didn't need it. Cochise was an experienced educator, and unafraid to assert himself and make his preferences clearly known. Joe had always encouraged him to express his opinions, even on subjects which a horse had no business having an opinion on.
Cochise liked this man, who was gentle with horses and appeared to mean well -and most importantly had fed him when he was hungry- and so he was patient in his instruction of the woefully inept human. Mayer had brushed horses before, but only the sort of horses that put up with whatever Mayer did. He was used to grooming a horse until it was 'clean enough', but Cochise took a nip at his gloved hand when he laid aside the brush and tried to untie the lead shank before he'd done a thorough job.
"You're the most demanding critter I've ever been around," Mayer told the pinto.
Cochise flicked an ear at him, and cast a significant look at where Mayer had left the brush.
Mayer clenched his teeth and growled, "Fine."
He picked up the brush and resumed grooming the horse.
Once he'd started caring for the animal, he felt a curious sense of obligation to finish what he'd started. As Joe had predicted, once Mayer settled in to thoroughly grooming the horse, he got to thinking about things, and the things he thought about troubled him. Satisfied that the man was going to do his job right this time, Cochise relaxed and began enjoy himself.