Merriweather Rides West

by Lee Lejeune

  ‘Why do you say that?’ she asked.

  Jacob gave a sceptical chuckle. ‘Because he’s a liar, Marie.’

  Marie was smiling. ‘That’s a bold accusation, Jacob!’

  ‘I’m no mind reader, Marie, but I was watching that guy closely when I asked him what he was going to do and whether he knew Jack Davidson, and when he said “not personally” I knew he was lying, and that he knows Jack Davidson only too well. In fact I think they’re close buddies.’

  Marie looked surprised, but not unduly shocked. ‘Maybe you’re a better mind reader than you think,’ she said. ‘What will you do right now?’

  He grinned. ‘Well, Marie, I guess I must go back to my friend Sam Critchley and consult his great mind.’ He paused. ‘And what will you do?’

  She gave him an arch smile. ‘I think I should put a few chairs out and talk with those ladies who don’t think I’m a witch.’

  Jacob rode on, and before long encountered Sam Critchley, who was riding towards town in his painted wagon. Sam halted the burros and Jacob stopped alongside the wagon.

  ‘Glad to see you’re still in one piece,’ Sam said.

  ‘Well, I nearly had my scalp creased,’ Jacob told him,

  ‘How come?’ the old man asked him.

  Jacob told him all that had happened up at the cabin.

  Sam grunted. ‘That was pretty close, my friend, but I’m not totally surprised.’

  ‘Did you ever meet Jack Davidson?’ Jacob asked him.

  ‘Oh, I met him right enough. He even came to one of my meetings and put a few dollars into the hat. He’s a man you don’t want to mess with. If you ever handled a rattlesnake you’ll know what I mean. If that hombre gets his fangs into you, you’d better start to pray because there won’t be much time left before you pad on, so to speak. You coming into town to hear my words of wisdom?’

  Jacob smiled. ‘I never miss a chance to improve my mind, sir.’

  As they drew close to the striped tent they saw a whole host of people milling around, most of them womenfolk, though there was also quite a strong contingent of men. A few of them cheered, and some threw their hats in the air as the wagon approached. Obviously Sam’s appearance was a matter of entertainment in a community where the only pastime, apart from hard work, was eating and making love, or having a singsong by the fire.

  Sam went around shaking hands with folk and patting kids on the head. He was clearly extremely popular. Once again Jacob wondered whether he was an impostor or a genuine man of God.

  Sam treated himself to a glass of fruit juice, and when the time came he climbed on to the dais and raised his hand, and the crowd became hushed. Jacob sat beside the tent facing the crowd, watching the faces. Most had eager and expectant expressions, but there were a few who looked less friendly; among them was a man dressed like a priest who scowled and mouthed his contempt at Sam. Marie sat in the front row. She had changed into her normal womanly clothes and she looked quite ladylike. As Jacob looked at her she smiled. ‘She’s a really fine woman,’ Jacob said to himself.

  Further back Sheriff Olsen stood slightly apart with his usual quirly hanging from his lip.

  Old Sam Critchley certainly knew how to woo the crowd. He spoke eloquently and with conviction, and he soon had the audience in the palm of his hand. Jacob didn’t listen to much of what he said. He was too intent on people watching, and at the back of the crowd he saw several hard-bitten characters who must have been ranch hands, who had probably ridden in for the entertainment or possibly to make trouble.

  When Sam’s oration came to an end, there was prolonged cheering and stamping of feet. But then Sam held up his hand for silence. ‘Now, my friends,’ he said solemnly, ‘We all know about the cruel murder of Stan and Beth Salinger and I’m sure we want to see their murderers caught and brought before the law, Now I want you to take your minds back and if you can remember anything, anything at all, that will help Sheriff Olsen to track down those killers and bring them to justice, please come forward. The sooner we bring those killers to justice it will be better for everyone concerned.’

  Now a large sombrero was passed round and folk were putting dollar bills and dime pieces into it. As usual some people were more generous than others. Jacob didn’t take much note of that. He was watching the hard-bitten characters at the back of the crowd. He turned and saw young Hank the stable hand standing close beside him.

  ‘Good evening, Hank,’ Jacob said politely.

  ‘Good evening, sir,’ the boy crowed back.

  ‘I wonder if you can help me, Hank?’

  ‘It will be a pleasure, sir,’ the boy said, no doubt remembering the generous tip Jacob had given him earlier

  ‘You see those men standing at the back?’

  ‘Sure thing, sir,’ the boy said.

  ‘Have you seen them before?’

  The boy sort of giggled. ‘Why, sure I’ve seen them, sir. They’re ranch hands. They usually ride in after round-up when they get their pay and kick up a rumpus. They fire their guns into the air to put the scares on folk, but people lock their doors and nobody gets hurt.’

  ‘Thank you, Hank. Buy yourself a drink and keep out of trouble.’ Jacob handed him a dime.

  The boy looked at him and grinned. ‘Why, thank you, sir. Did you find a gold mine or something?’

  Sam Critchley was on the bench of his painted wagon, still talking to his devotees. He looked down at Jacob and nodded, as if to say, ‘Look where fame gets you, young man, but don’t let it tempt you away from the truth.’ What he actually said was, ‘I’m going right back to my Happy Hunting Ground to camp for the night.’

  Jacob tipped his Stetson. ‘Maybe I’ll join you later. Right now, I’ve got business to attend to.’

  He walked into the Grand hotel where the three cowpunchers were already propping up the bar drinking their whiskey. He leaned on the bar and ordered a beer.

  The bartender gave him a nod. ‘So you’re back again, Mr Merriweather.’

  ‘Merriweather!’ One of the cowpunchers turned to him. ‘Haven’t I heard that name somewhere before?’ He was a big burly man who reminded Jacob of Black Bart somewhat.

  ‘I guess you might have done,’ Jacob said. ‘But it isn’t the usual run of names, is it?’

  The big man turned to his compadres. ‘You hear that, Wolf? This guy calls himself Merriweather.’

  The man called Wolf grinned at Jacob. ‘What kind of a name is that?’

  Jacob put on his best smile. ‘Name I was born with, my friend. So I have to carry it around with me until I die. Jacob Merriweather has to do for me. It’s the only one I’ve got.’

  ‘Until you die!’ the burly man said with a grin. ‘Well, let’s hope that ain’t any time soon. Mr Merriweather.’

  ‘I share that hope,’ Jacob said.

  All three of the cowpunchers guffawed with laughter. Then the lean guy who hadn’t spoken so far looked at Jacob along the bar. ‘You from around here, Mr Merriweather?’

  ‘Not so much,’ Jacob said. ‘I been all over.’

  The burly waddy looked at his compadres and then at Jacob. ‘You see a man on a chestnut-coloured horse with a sort of double blaze on its nose lately?’

  ‘Well now, I do believe I have,’ Jacob said. ‘A tall guy with a mean face. In fact he took a couple of shots at me only yesterday morning.’

  The three men exchanged suspicious glances.

  ‘You wouldn’t be fooling with us, would you, Mister?’ the man called Wolf asked him.

  ‘I don’t fool with people, sir,’ Jacob said. ‘I saw the hombre you’re talking about just a few miles from here. He took a couple of shots at me and I took a couple of shots back. Unfortunately he was on the move, and he vamoosed pretty quickly so I missed.’

  The burly guy gave Jacob a wide grin that might have been almost friendly except for the eyes. ‘Why don’t I buy you a drink, amigo?’

  ‘Well, it’s been a long day and being shot at does give a man a thirst. So I’d be hap
py to accept your offer, my friend.’

  They moved to a table and sat down, and the barman brought their drinks. Jacob ordered a beer since he couldn’t stomach the whiskey the Grand hotel provided. As the barman placed his beer in front of Jacob he gave him a strange flicker of a smile. It was like a warning light flashing on and off.

  ‘So the guy took a shot at you?’ the burly man said.

  ‘That’s a fact,’ Jacob agreed.

  ‘And then the guy rode off,’ the man called Wolf speculated. ‘D’you mind if I ask you a couple of questions, Mr Merriweather?’

  ‘Please ask away, sir, and if I can give you a good honest answer I’ll be glad to oblige.’

  Wolf gave a kind of grin that Jacob thought suited his name well. ‘Did you see which way the hombre rode after you shot back at him?’

  Jacob rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ‘Well now, I guess that would be towards town.’

  Wolf looked at his compadres and nodded. ‘So he came this way?’ he said.

  ‘I guess so,’ Jacob replied, ‘but he might have branched off somewhere. All roads don’t necessarily lead to Rome, do they?’

  ‘That’s true,’ Wolf said with a look of enquiry. He obviously hadn’t a clue about Rome.

  The lean guy pointed a finger in Jacob’s direction. ‘And what were you doing up at the cabin, Mr Merriweather?’ he asked.

  ‘Escorting a friend of mine,’ Jacob replied, ‘and generally minding my own business.’

  He felt the three cowpunchers stiffen. Then they looked at one another with deep suspicion. ‘Are you fooling with us, Mr Merriweather?’ the burly guy asked.

  ‘Like I said,’ Jacob replied, ‘I don’t fool with people. I tell things like they are.’

  Wolf nodded slowly. ‘I see you carry a gun, Mr Merriweather. Which suggests you’re a gunfighter. Would that be right?’

  Jacob paused for a moment. ‘If I didn’t carry a gun, sir, I’d be dead meat by now. I guess the guy on the chestnut horse with the unusual blaze would have been happy to kill me up at the cabin.’

  The burly man scrutinized him closely. ‘What are you doing in town, anyway, Mr Merriweather?’

  ‘Mostly minding my own business,’ Jacob said. ‘There’s nobody minds it as well as I do, in my experience.’

  Wolf and the lean guy exchanged glances.

  The lean guy said, ‘Are you looking for work, Mr Merriweather?’

  ‘I might be, and there again, I might not. Depends what the work involves. Had you anything particular in mind?’

  ‘Did you ever hear of the Circle Bar Ranch?’

  ‘Can’t say I have, sir. Who runs it, anyway?’

  The lean guy pulled a sceptical face. ‘Biggest ranch in the territory. The boss man is Jack Davidson. The ranch has been in his family for three generations. I’m surprised you haven’t heard of it.’

  ‘Well, sir, if Mr Davidson made me an offer I might just accept it, depending on what it was. But as you probably see, I’m no waddy. I don’t know which end of a cow is which. Which can be somewhat inconvenient’

  The three cowhands laughed raucously. Then the lean guy said: ‘It’s not just handling cows, Mr Merriweather. There might be other possibilities.’

  ‘Like what?’ Jacob asked.

  The lean guy shrugged. ‘Why don’t you ride up there sometime and find out?’

  Jacob nodded. ‘I might just do that. As soon as I’m through with my present business.’

  Jacob shook hands with the cowhands and went out through the swing doors to the sidewalk. The striped tent and the dais had been removed and the last of the chairs were being cleared away. There was no sign of Sheriff Olsen or Marie. It’s probably just as well, he thought; that lady with the sweet smile doesn’t want to get tangled up in this mess, does she?

  He thought of the three cowpunchers still sitting in the saloon, and a chill wind seemed to ruffle the hairs on the back of his neck. Then he unhitched his horse and mounted up and rode back to the place where Sam Critchley had parked the painted wagon.

  Sam was sitting by the fire counting the dollar bills. He looked up and smiled. ‘Well, you’re still in the land of the living, I see.’

  ‘Just about,’ Jacob said.

  He dismounted and led his horse down to the river where he let it drink and graze with Sam’s burros. Then he squatted by the fire with Sam.

  ‘Looks like you did well,’ he said.

  Sam stowed the dollar bills in a wooden box and put the box in a bag beside him. ‘Those folk are real generous,’ he said. ‘This will keep me alive for a while.’

  You old fraud! Jacob thought.

  Sam looked at him and smiled. ‘Every worker is worthy of his hire,’ he said.

  ‘You could be right,’ Jacob agreed.

  Sam was still smiling through his beard. ‘Better to live by the word than live by the gun or the sword,’ he said.

  Jacob thought of those three cowhands drinking in the Grand hotel and he remembered the smile on their lips which didn’t match the cold look in their eyes. He told Sam about the encounter. ‘And one of them offered me a job at the Davidson ranch,’ he said.

  ‘You think you might take it?’ Sam asked him.

  Jacob was staring at the fire as though he could see his future in the flames. ‘Be interesting to meet that guy,’ he said.

  ‘Well,’ Sam said, ‘Your tent’s still here. So why don’t you just bed down and sleep till sun-up, and then we can decide what to do about Davidson and his boys?’

  ‘I think I’ll just do that, my friend. It’s been a long day and I’m just about tuckered out.’

  He was dreaming about coffee and hot juicy steaks and the young woman with the beguiling smile when he woke suddenly. Had it been a voice or the sound of movement? He couldn’t be sure. So he grabbed his gun and peered out and saw a man standing close by with a revolver trained on him.

  ‘Put that gun down before I shoot you!’ the man commanded.

  Jacob lowered his gun and laid it beside him on the ground.

  The man turned towards the painted wagon as Sam Critchley poked his head out. ‘What’s wrong?’ Sam said. ‘Can’t a man get his sleep around here?’

  ‘Get down from your perch and walk slowly to the fire,’ the man said, moving the gun to cover him.

  Sam climbed down from the wagon and approached the fire with his hands raised.

  The man moved the gun to cover Jacob again. ‘You, get over to the fire.’

  Jacob moved to the fire.

  ‘Now, set yourselves down,’ the man commanded. ‘And keep your hands where I can see them in case I have to blow your heads off.’

  ‘No need for threats, sir,’ Sam said. ‘We are men of peace.’

  The man gave a sceptical grin. ‘Then, why does this hombre carry a gun?’ he asked, pointing his gun at Jacob.

  Jacob held up his hands. ‘I’m just a passing stranger and I carry a gun in case somebody takes a shot at me.’

  He and the man with the gun studied one another for several seconds.

  ‘Why, you’re the guy who took a shot at me earlier,’ the gunman said.

  ‘And you’re the guy who tried to shoot me dead up at the Salinger place,’ Jacob said, ‘And I’ve been wondering why you were there and who you are.’

  ‘And why you turned up here,’ Sam added.

  The man raised his gun and aimed it at Sam. ‘I’m here because I need supplies.’

  ‘That’s a strange word,’ Sam said quietly with a smile. ‘What supplies do you require? Are you looking for money or for food? I’ve got food but I’m a little short on money.’

  ‘I think you’re lying,’ the man said, ‘but I’ll take the food anyway.’

  Sam nodded. ‘Why don’t you wait here and I’ll dig out the grub?’ He rose from the fire as if to move to the wagon.

  ‘Now wait a minute!’ the man shouted. ‘You think I’m gonna wait here while you climb up into that wagon and bring out a gun?’

  Sam nodded calmly
. ‘If you want food, sir, that’s the only way you’re going to get it, because that’s where it is.’

  The gunman considered for a moment, and then he pointed his gun at Jacob again, and Jacob saw that his hand was shaking. ‘What I want you to do is get the food, and if you make one false move I’m gonna plug this guy right through the head. Is that clear?

  Sam nodded. ‘That’s clear enough, sir.’ He climbed up into the wagon, and the gunman trained his gun on Jacob.

  Jacob looked at him and grinned, though he wasn’t feeling as brave as he looked. A shaking hand can be a dangerous hand, and that gun might go off either deliberately or accidentally at any second. So keep talking, he thought.

  ‘You’re making a big mistake, my friend,’ he said quietly.

  ‘Is that so?’ the gunman muttered between his teeth.

  Jacob gave a slight nod. ‘That is so.’

  ‘Maybe you’d like to say why,’ the man said.

  Jacob looked him in the eye. ‘You were up at the cabin looking at the graves of those unfortunate young people you killed.’

  ‘I didn’t kill anyone!’ the man interjected.

  Jacob shook his head. ‘You were one of the hired killers. Even if you didn’t pull the trigger, you were there when those two young innocent folk were killed. I don’t know why you returned to the scene of the crime or what you were looking for there, but I guess you took your pay and decided to cut loose.’

  ‘How do you know that?’ the man asked.

  Jacob grinned at him. ‘Let’s just say I can read it in your eyes, my friend.’

  The gun wavered slightly.

  Jacob said, ‘You’re no natural born killer, my friend. So you decided to leave the ranch and ride off and look for a better life.’ Jacob shook his head. ‘Unfortunately, the ranch owner Jack Davidson has a long arm and he sent out three evil-looking hombres to find you and kill you, before you spilled the beans.’

  The man looked horrified. ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘One is a big guy and the other guy is called Wolf. I don’t know who the third guy is, but he’s tall and lean and looks exceedingly mean.’

  The man began to look scared as though he was confronted by Satan himself. ‘Well, I’ll be damned!’ he whispered.