“Give me the gun,” Rance said. “He ain’t worth killin’ over.”
She started to cry and he took the carbine from her.
“Cletus Brown, you can go to hell. I’m goin’ back to Virginia,” she said, looking at Cletus’ boots. She wiped her eyes and hurried out the door.
“You can come out now,” B.W. said. “The big bad wolf is gone, you sorry sonofabitch.”
The bed came flying up in the air, Cletus stood up wild-eyed, slobbering like a mad dog and made a lunge for the carbine. B.W. kicked him away and slammed the barrel of his Colt hard against his head.
Blood flew out of a big gash on his head and he staggered backwards and fell on the overturned bed.
B.W. picked up the carbine, opened the window and threw it outside.
Cletus moaned and sat up, wiping the blood from his head with a sheet.
“Stay away from April and May or we’ll kill you. You understand?” B.W. said.
“Who are you?” Cletus asked, dabbing at the blood on his forehead with the sheet.
“Don’t matter. Do what we said.” Rance said and they walked out.
They bought her and May a stage ticket bound for Roanoke, Virginia and gave her twenty dollars of Jake’s money.
May kept goading Tommy right up to the time the stage pulled out, telling him she could beat him up.
Tommy had pretty well ignored her, and nothing infuriates a female more then to be ignored at any age.
After April and May left, Rance, B.W. and Tommy ate at Ma’s, watered and fed their horses, gave the livery owner an extra buck and rode out of town to get more ground between them and the marshal.
12
They got up at daybreak and saddled their horses. Tommy fixed some flapjacks.
“Hope that lady and her daughter make it back to Virginia okay,” B.W. said.
“That crazy kid of hers needs a spanking,” Tommy said. “Wantin’ to fight me.”
“You did the right thing, Tommy, we don’t hit girls,” Rance said.
“Well that didn’t matter to the men my mama saw. A lot of them would beat the hell out of her for no good reason.”
“I’ll do the cussin’, Tommy,” B.W. said.
“Those kind are not men, Tommy , they’re scum,” Rance said.
“Do you know who shot your mama?” B.W. asked.
“I think so,” Tommy said. “I was washing glasses at the bar when I heard a shot and my mama screaming. I ran up the stairs and a man ran out of our room, shovin’ me and runnin’ down the stairs. I noticed he had pearl-handled pistols and fancy boots as he ran past me. I followed him out of the saloon. He jumped on a bay horse and rode out of town as fast as he could go. When I got back to our room my mama was dead. The sheriff never even went after him.”
“What kind of fancy boots?“ Rance asked.
“They were red and black with a longhorn cow on them. I can still see them.”
“Sounds like Texas longhorns,” Rance said.
“Sure does,” B.W. said. “They have cows in Texas, Tommy, that have longer horns than anywhere else. He may have been from Texas.”
“Nobody had ever seen him before,” Tommy said.
“That may be why,” B.W. said.
“You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’ B.W.?” Rance said.
“Yeah, could be. Your mama say anything ‘bout trouble ‘fore she was killed?” he asked Tommy
“No, nothing.”
“Anything else?” Rance said.
“Just that we was goin’ back to Texas to get what was ours and my papa might not like it.”
“Guess we’ll have to be on the lookout for those boots when we get to Texas,” B.W. said. “May be a thousand pair or one, if they was custom made.”
“If we can get there in one piece,” Rance said.
“How would the marshal know where we’re going if Miss Julie don’t tell him?” Tommy said.
“She won’t, but men like that are trained to know,” Rance said. “Pretty sure he’s figured it out by bnow. If we can find a cattle train going to Texas, we could get there a lot quicker. Maybe on one of your daddy’s trains.”
As they rode on, dark clouds began to gather in the distance and lightning flashed across the sky.
“Look at that,” B.W. said. “Bad stuff comin,’ we got to get out of the open.”
“If we got time to get to that over yonder we can get some cover,” Rance said, gesturing toward the nearest mountain. “Don’t see nothin’ else but prairie grass between us and that mountain.”
“Think we can make it ‘fore it gets here?” Tommy said.
“Have to,” Rance said and they took off.
They could see a hard rain in the distance and the lightning darting back and forth across the sky.
Suddenly, the lightning stopped and it became still and quiet—no birds in the sky and no sounds of animals.
They rode to the foot of the mountain and saw what looked like the entrance to an old mine shaft a little ways up and rode to it.
“Looks like this one petered out some time ago,” Rance said. “If that storm is as big as it looks from here, this is where we need to hunker down.”
“I ain’t goin’ in there,” Tommy said. “Why don’t we head a different direction and outrun it?”
“Too wide,” Rance said.
“Don’t like it either,” B.W. said, “but it may be like the major said: We ain’t got a choice.”
“Don’t have to go in too far, just enough to protect us from the wind and wait till it passes. Watch for snakes,” Rance said.
“I hate snakes,” Tommy said.
“I’ll go in first.” Rance led Buck through the weeds and into the mine shaft. Tommy and B.W. followed.
“Boy, does this place stink,” Tommy said.
“Animals usin’ it too,” B.W. said.
“They can have it.”
“Not just yet,” Rance said.
The roar of the storm picked up again and they held on to their horses. The rain started and in seconds it looked like a dark gray curtain had been pulled down over the entrance to the mine. The rain came in waves as the wind whistled across the mountain, blowing away everything in its path. The horses pranced, pawing at the ground as they held on. They knew if one got away he was a dead horse. B.W. grabbed the reins of Tommy’s horse and helped him hang on. In less than five minutes the storm had moved across the mountain and was sweeping the prairie clean.
They led their horses out of the mine shaft and breathed a sigh of relief. An old overturned rusted ore car was laying on a rail track with Westway Copper Mine on the side of it.
“What’s that say on that car?” Tommy asked.
“Westway Copper Mine,” Rance said.
“Would you and B.W. learn me to read?”
“Sure,” Rance said.
“When?”
“Don’t know, exactly,” Rance said.
“Soon,” B.W. said.
“I need to be able to read things.”
They followed the mine rails through weeds and brush and saw a railroad track and an old busted-down loading dock with a spur that ran to railroad tracks. The tracks ran north and south as far as they could see.
“Tracks look clean and shiny, may be a train is using them now,” Rance said. “Let’s follow the tracks. One might come along headed south.”
“Why can’t we just wait for it here?” Tommy said.
“We would be givin’ that marshal catchin’-up time,” B.W. said.
“Need to find a place the train would stop,” Rance said.
As they rode along beside the tracks, they could see the storm moving further away and the mist in the air evaporating fast. They followed the tracks for three days, and when the sun was hanging on the late afternoon side of the sky that third day, they heard a train whistle.
“Hear that?” Tommy said.
“That could be the one we’re lookin’ for. It’s whistling for a stop,” Rance said. “We got to get to
wherever it stops before they do. Let’s ride.”
They spurred their horses into a gallop, looking for a place the train would stop. As they rounded a bend they saw a railroad water tower.They rode up to a hitching post behind the tower, dropped down from their horses and tied them snugly to a hitching post and stepped up on the platform.
“Hope we don’t scare them off,” Rance said.
A big black locomotive painted with Number Seventy-Six on the cattle guard and Union Pacific on the side came around the bend, huffing and puffing, blowing smoke high into the air, pulling a bunch of cattle cars. By the time it reached the platform you could walk faster than it was traveling, steel-on-steel grinding to a halt. Steam shot out of the engine and the whistle blew. Buck, B.W.’s horse and Tommy’s roan danced a little, but they were use to the loud noises from the war.
A man stepped down from the locomotive to the platform and stretched his arms over his head and looked around. He was tall and gaunt-looking, maybe in his fifties, wearing a Union Pacific railroad cap and red suspenders. Another man, shorter and heavier than the first, appeared with a railroad cap on and climbed the water tower and swung the water arm over the engine. The tall man waved to the man on the tower and he climbed down and connected the arm to the engine’s water tank.
A cattle car door slid open and three men with rifles stood in the open doorway, looking at them. The tall man moved over to Rance and stopped just out of reach.
“I’m the engineer, name’s Morgan. What you boys doin’ here?”
“Lookin’ for a ride to Texas,” Rance said.
“We can get you to Pinefield, Arkansas. Have to catch another train to Texarkana from there. Looks like ya’ll was in the war.”
“Was,” B.W. said. “Hear anything ‘bout that actor killed Lincoln?”
“Federals killed him and goin’ to hang some others for helpin’ him.”
“Good,” B.W. said. “Wish it could have been me.”
“Don’t want no free ride,” Rance said. “We can pay.”
“Thought you might be goin’ to rob us,” Morgan said. “Takin’ a load of beef to the army. Ten dollars and check those guns with me till we get there. Don’t know if they got a car for your horses on the train out of Pinefield.”
“Which one is that?” B.W. asked.
“Travers Southern Railway,” Morgan said.
They looked at each other. “I’ll be damned,” B.W. said. “It is still runnin.’”
“We okay with this?” Rance said, looking at B.W. and Tommy.
“Don’t think I want to give up my guns,” B.W. said.
“That’s the only way I’m goin’ to do it,” Morgan said. “Can’t take any chances. You behave yourself, you’ll get ‘em back. Take a while to get to Pinefield.”
“Don’t have much choice, do we?” B.W. said.
“Nope,” Morgan said.
“Guess we’ll take it,” Rance said. “Beats ridin’ anyways.”
“Alright, we’ll drop a walk plank on the second car for the horses, nothing but calves in there,
shouldn’t be any trouble. Give me the money and the guns when you get on. I’ll give you a receipt for the money and weapons and we’ll be on our way soon as the tank’s full.”
They untied the horses and led them into the cattle car. The calves backed up to give them room as they moved in. Morgan took their guns and money and handed Rance the receipt. He walked down the plank to the platform.
Two of the men with the rifles slid the walk plank in the car, closed the door and locked it. They could see them walk away through the railings.
“Be glad when we get there,” B.W. said. “I feel naked without my guns and tomahawk.”
“Not completely,” Tommy said, and lifted Julie’s Colt out of his saddle bags and handed it to B.W.
“Smart move, boy, adds some comfort.”
The whistle blew, the engine moaned and black smoke drifted by the cattle cars as they pulled away. The rumbling sound of the locomotive got louder as it picked up speed. The train was soon at full-throttle, the locomotive churning out a stream of black smoke, the cattle cars bouncing and swaying.
B.W. and Rance stretched a lariat across a corner of the car and tied their horses to it to keep the calves off them and sat down in the corner. Tommy fell asleep as soon as he laid down.
After riding for hours the sun was long gone and the train moved deeper in to the night. The calves bellowed their displeasure and the horses stomped their feet every now and then. Shadows of trees and rocks whizzed by and the moon threw streaks of light through the railings into the cattle car.
Sometime in the early morning, they felt the train slowing down and saw the flicker of lights in the distance.
B.W. woke Tommy and they waited for the train to pull into the station.
When the train stopped, the engineer appeared and unlocked the car, and two of the guards opened the door and slid the walk plank in place. They led their horses out and then Morgan gave them back their weapons.
“This where we catch the train to Texas?” Rance asked.
“Passenger train but no cars for the horses,” Morgan said. “Leaves at ten in the morning.”
“No way to ship the horses?”
“Nope. Best you sell ‘em. Livery will buy ‘em. Get you some more when you get to Texas.”
“I ain’t sellin’ my horse,” Rance said. “I raised him from a colt and we survived a war together.”
“Don’t think I want to do that, either,” B.W. said and Tommy also shook his head no.
“Long ride to Texas. Good luck. Got to let the army know we’re here,” Morgan said and walked away.
“Now what?” Tommy said
“Don’t know,” Rance said.
“Here, Tommy.” B.W. handed him the Colt. “Put that back up, might need it again. ” Tommy put the gun back in his saddle bags.
“Looks like town’s just ahead,” Rance said.
13
Willie Preston sold his horse, packed a bag and was sitting on a bench in front of the Wells Fargo stage office in Milberg with a bottle of whiskey, his shotgun propped against the wall next to him, waiting for the stage to arrive. Charlie Campbell came walking up to Preston and sat down on the bench beside him.
“Howdy, marshal,” Charlie said.
“Ain’t the marshal no more, Charlie.”
“Yeah, I know. Habit, I guess. That’s why I came to see you ‘fore you left, tell you I was sorry for lettin’ them get away.”
“I’ll find them.”
“Colonel’s got a man coming in from Abilene to replace you. Supposed to be here tomorrow.”
“What’s his name?” Preston said.
“Don’t know. Don’t really won’t to work for anyone else anyway. Thought I might go with you. I got a score to settle with that one-arm Johnny Reb for taking my new Colt.”
“Don’t have enough money for the both us,” Preston said.
“I got my own, I can carry my own weight.”
“Don’t have any authority anymore except as a bounty hunter. Most places think worse of bounty hunters than the outlaws.”
“I know, but I want to go anyway,” Charlie said. “Don’t have no one here to hold me.”
“Well, if you’re hell-bent on goin’ I could use the help,” Preston said. “You got ‘bout an hour ‘fore the stage gets here to be ready. Gonna have to change stages three times and catch a train to Texas in Pinefield, Arkansas. It’s a long ride, but better than a horse.”
“You know whereabouts in Texas they went?” Charlie asked.
“Yeah, place called Traversville, ‘bout fifty miles from Texarkana. That’s where the boy’s mama was from, accordin’ to her former boss in Whiskey Gulch. They’re takin’ him home. I’m gonna beat ‘em there.”
“I’ll get my things.”
Charlie showed up as the stage was pulling in with a suitcase, a carbine and a Navy Colt.
The stage driver pulled the horses to a stop
, jumped down and opened the door on the stage and held the hand of a pretty young lady as she stepped down.
The shotgun rider sat down his shotgun and helped her take her trunk off the stage. Preston and the other men followed her with their eyes as she sashayed down the street to the first saloon she came to and went in, the two men following with the trunk.
“Guess we know what her occupation is,” Charlie said.
A man wearing a fancy suit and a bowler hat carrying a small carpet bag stepped down from the stage and walked over to Charlie.
“Where’s the best place to stay around here?”
“Jack’s Eatery down the street,” Charlie said.
“Thanks.” The man walked away carrying his bag.
“Another carpet bagger,” Preston said and went back to sipping his whiskey.
The gruff-looking stage driver slapped his hat on his leg to shake the dust off of it then dusted himself off. He dipped his bandana in the water trough, wrung it out and wiped his sweaty face.
“Ain’t you the marshal here?” he asked Preston.
“Not anymore,” Preston said.
“You goin’ on the stage?” He tugged his suspenders up to raise his sagging pants.
“We are,” Preston said.
“They call me Patty. Glad to see you packin’ them guns. We been runnin’ into hostiles the last couple of times out, could use some more firepower.”
“What kind of hostiles?”
“Mostly stray Creek war parties, usually four or five. Been able to fend them off so far but you never know when they may come at you with the whole damn tribe. We’ll be ready to go after I change horses and get something to eat. We’ll make a stop at Cally Springs for the night then just stop for horses and rest stops the rest of the way to Pinefield.
The stage driver climbed back up on the stage coach seat, tapped the reins on the six horses’ backs and headed for the livery stable.
“You gonna kill ‘em?” Charlie asked.
“Got to.” Preston picked up the shotgun. “They’re wanted for murder, got every right to. Ain’t no two ways about it.”
A chubby little woman wearing a red dress and matching hat with feathers on top came out of the saloon where the girl from the stage went in. She was hurrying down the street toward the stage office, carrying a purse and a carpet bag. She walked up to Preston and Charlie.
The Last Good Day Page 8
