by J. Lee Butts
By the time we got back out to the Fin and Feather's piece of boardwalk, a sizable crowd had gathered around the dead men. One of the spectators turned out to be the town's resident pill-roller. Right nice gent named Leonard Adamson. He'd already checked on John Roman Hatch's handiwork. Pronounced both them fellers deader than rotten stumps. Took Boz to his office over next to the bank and went right to work on him.
I talked with a number of townsfolk who claimed to have witnessed the shootings. Old-timer named Felthus Runyon declared as how he'd come out of the Matador just as the skirmish pimpled to a nasty head. "Yessir. Seen the hull show. Heerd ever word what got said. You see, young feller, them cowboys corned out'n the Fin and Feather some drunked up and a lot stupid. Went to raggin' on 'at 'ere gunfighter Hatch. Not too smort, if'n you ask me. Called him some pert filthy names. Went to mouthin' off 'bout the man's mother and sech. Appeared to me as though Mr.Hatch tried to avoid the thang. Couldn't do 'er. Them boys seemed determined to die 'fer as I could see."
His story sounded almost to the letter of Hatch's own rendition of the killings. But friends, over the years I've come to have little trust in eyewitness accounts of such events. As is the case with most of them, you can always find someone who just didn't see it the same way.
Young man wearing a derby hat and suit said, "My name's Andrew Nash. I'm a teller over in the Texas State Bank. Was on my way home for dinner when this incident unfolded. John Roman Hatch caused the whole thing. Soon as he tied his animal, these poor guiltless souls came out of the Fin and Feather and went to saddle up. Hatch called them out and shot both men like dogs." Being as how Romulus Pitt's name appeared on the bank's window as being the owner, I tended not to believe Nash's version of the shooting.
Same with all the other witnesses. If a body didn't know any better, you'd have thought the entire sober population of Iron Bluff had been on the street when the bloody episode occurred and had seen every second as it unfolded. Split right down the middle on what happened. Half agreed with Runyon. Other half sided with Nash.
Then, as if on cue, Pitt's remaining bunch of riders poured out of the Fin and Feather, flooded the street, and went to hollering stuff like, "It was cold-blooded murder." And, "What we need here, by God, is a dose of oak tree justice." And, "Hell, we don't have to wait. Git a rope. Let's hang the murderin' bastard."
Nick Fox led the chorus, and it appeared the situation was about to get beyond my meager control, when Boz showed up again. His left arm was professionally dressed, but if it bothered the man you couldn't tell it. He walked up beside me and said, "Let's put all four shots over their heads. Get their attention. Reload quick as you can."
Raised our shotguns and fired into the air. Dumped our empties and were ready for more action in a flash. God Almighty, people went to running and screaming like Gabriel had just blown his horn and announced the Second Coming. Town folk abandoned Pitt's riders to an empty street, the company of two angry Rangers, and a pair of dead men. Happened so fast, those Pitt riders didn't know which way to turn.
Boz gave them all the guidance they needed when he yelled, "You men saddle up and get back to the Pitt ranch. No need of you here. We'll take care of this and see to it the law is served."
Fox looked totally unfazed by the turn of events. He slipped his hands into the waist of his pants in an obvious move to indicate he wanted no part of a quarrel with our shotguns. But I could tell he wasn't about to let the evening's events go without letting us know how he felt.
Black-draped gunman swelled up and said, "Damned if we'll leave till there's some satisfaction fer what John Roman Hatch did. McCall and Wheeler weren't a match for a killer of his skill on the best day the two of 'em ever had."
I couldn't resist the temptation to goad the man a bit just to see what would happen. Said, "And I suppose you must think you are a match for Hatch. Is that it, Nick? Want us to turn him loose and see which of you is left after another face-off like this one?"
His face reddened up. "I never said that. But if the situation ever arises, can gar-un-damn-tee you I'm more'n a match for John Roman than anyone else in town these days." He tilted his head toward the still-oozing corpses on the Fin and Feather's boardwalk. "These boys wasn't nothin' but drovers. Ain't no way in hell they picked a fight with that murderin' skunk."
Boz pulled the same trick again. Walked right up in his adversary's face, placed the muzzle of the ten-gauge against the buckle of Fox's pistol belt, and said, "That ain't the way witnesses tell it, Nick. So you take your men and get back out to the Pitt ranch right now. I don't want to see any of you on the street before day after tomorrow. If I do you'll answer to me, and I'm faster, meaner, and a damn sight more deadly than any of you mouthy sons of bitches."
Fox almost choked right on the spot. Coughed and snapped, "Bet Ole Man Pitt will have plenty to say about this."
I stepped up beside Boz and said, "You tell him, if he wants to talk with us, to come in alone. You and the rest of this crew show up with him and most of you won't do another thing in this world. Got the message, gunhand?"
His upper lip peeled back. "I heard you, Dodge. Come on, boys. Let's head for the ranch. We'll let Mr. Pitt take care of these skunks."
Whole damned bunch saddled up and stormed out of town in a fog of dust and horse sweat. Me and Boz made the final arrangements for the dead men. We talked with at least a dozen more folks who claimed to have seen the whole shooting match. Much to our surprise, and dismay, almost all of them confirmed John Roman's version of the story. We placed our greatest faith in Cloud Quigley. He owned, managed, and edited the Iron Bluff Weekly Sentinel. Not much of a newspaper, but the only one in town.
Boz caught him in front of the Sentinel's tiny office just at dusk. Quigley's open front door had had a clear view of the entire incident. He said, "Well, I'd just walked past the door. Heard men yelling."
"Was the door open or closed at the time?" Boz asked.
"Open. Hell, it's so hot can't stand to close it for very long. All the windows, back door, everything I can expose to any moving air is open. Plays hell on my typesetting, but can't be helped."
"What did you see, Mr. Quigley?" I asked.
"Men on the boardwalk in front of Romulus Pitt's saloon were yelling the foulest kind of obscenities at someone on this side of the street. I had to come out here where we're standing now to see who they were baiting."
Boz glanced down toward the Matador and pointed "Hatch says he tied his horse over there. You sure them boys were out to pick a fight? Seems a stupid thing to do, don't it?"
"They looked drunk to me. Hell, you know how it is, Ranger Tatum. Put enough of the right kind of skull-popper in the meekest mouse you can find and sometimes, at just the exact wrong moment, that tiny rodent will go toe-to-toe with the biggest, meanest, yellow-stripped tomcat in Texas."
Scratched my head and said, "You think that's what happened here? The mice took on the wrong cat?"
"Sure seemed so. Like most, I've heard tales of what a cold-blooded killer Hatch is. But in this instance, he did just about everything he could to avoid a fight. Doubt you could find a man in town who would've suffered those fools to run off at the mouth the way they did before something happened."
"You willing to testify to what you've just said?" Boz asked.
"Most assuredly, sir. But I can't imagine why anyone who saw this would need to testify. Open-and-shut case of self-defense. After all the verbal abuse, Wheeler and McCall drew first. Hatch even let them have the opening round of shots. Don't know if you heard it, but if you did, think about it. There were two rounds of gunfire. First one came from the dead men. They missed. Then Hatch blasted the hell out of them. Swear 'fore God, that's the way it happened. At least that's the way I saw it."
We thanked Quigley for his testimony, and then headed back to the jail. Sat around and patted ourselves on the back for the way things had turned out that afternoon. Bloody event could have been a lot worse. Especially if Nick Fox and Pitt's other riders h
ad managed to have their way.
Got quiet, for a second or so, before Boz said, "Figure Ole Man Pitt will be riding in soon. Bet he'll want us to turn Clements loose and hang Hatch as soon as possible. Got his riders stretched out on boards behind the barbershop. Kind of thing can really get a man like Pitt all humped up and kicking."
Romulus Pitt failed to fulfill my partner's prediction. But Bull Tingwell hit the door about seven o'clock that evening like a Kansas cyclone bent on destroying everything in its path. Old man was smart enough to leave his idiot sons and hired followers back at the ranch, but failed when it came to reining in his mouth.
He stomped up to the desk, all red in the face and shaking. Shook a knotty finger in Boz's face and damn near screamed, "You've got John Roman Hatch locked up in this hellhole and I want him out right goddamned now."
Boz grinned and said, "Well, why don't you wish in one hand and shit in the other and see which one fills up the quickest."
God Almighty, I thought that old man's head was gonna pop open like a festered boil. He snatched his hat off and shook it at Boz. "Look you here, maggot. Casper Longstreet seen what went on out in front of the Fin and Feather this afternoon. According to him it were a straight-up fair fight and wuz brung on by two stupid waddies of Pitt's. Ain't no reason for you to keep my man Hatch in a jail cell. Never should have locked him up to begin with."
Had me one of Marshal Stonehill's expensive leather thrones pulled over in my favorite corner. Kind of straightened up, and when I did the chair creaked. Don't think Tingwell had seen me up till then.
I said, "Be that as it may, Mr. Tingwell, he is behind bars and he'll stay that way till my partner decides otherwise. Could be a spell, old man. You might as well get used to it."
Ole Bull swelled up like a swamp-dwelling frog on the verge of exploding. "You don't understand," he croaked, 'There's a war a-coming. I need him. Pitt's bringing in new people to take his side every day. Right now, all I've got in the way of professional help is Hatch and Longstreet. They could be the difference in whether me and my family stay alive. You've got no call to keep Hatch in jail fer defending himself."
Almost passed out when Boz said, 'Tell you what, old man, I'll trade your gunfighter for Miss Ruby Black. Bring me the girl, unharmed, and you can have John Roman the moment her foot crosses the threshold of the door you just came through."
My God, but it got awful quiet for almost a minute. Only thing making any noise were the crickets outside. Bull Tingwell looked like he'd been hit in the face with a dead cat. Hell, I probably looked just as surprised. Wouldn't have thought of such a thing myself in a hundred years. But I had to admit, it was a stroke of near genius.
Tingwell came out of deep thought, scratched his rough chin, and said, "Done told you afore, I don't know nothing of the whereabouts of that young woman. She left town on the westbound stage, so far as I be a-knowin'."
Boz leaned back in his chair, put his feet up on Stone-hill's desk like a man about to take a nap. "Got no reason not to believe you, Bull. But the offer still goes. There's only one qualifier. She's got to be here by morning, or I'll just forget the whole thing and start looking for a judge or justice of the peace to come in and conduct an inquest into the shooting. Could be he might bind Hatch over for trial. Your gunman's future might very well include a long rope—and a short fall."
For the first time Tingwell smiled. "We have a judge right here in Iron Bluff, pretty good one too. Don't seem to favor either Romulus Pitt or me in any of our disputes in the past. I wouldn't be a-havin' no problem with him hearing the case."
Could see where Boz intended for his bluff to go, so I said, "Better if we bring in our own judge, I think. Boz and I have access to an honest and well-respected member of the Texas bar in Judge Stanley Cooper of Shelbyville. He'd be more than willing to preside over any of the legalities we determine might be necessary to clear this mess up."
"But like I mentioned before," Boz said, "whole matter could be taken care of with the appearance of Miss Black in this office no later than tomorrow morning."
Tingwell grunted, "Uh-huh." He spun around on his heel and stomped out the door. We could hear his horse gallop away.
I turned to Boz and said, "Jesus, where'd all this business of a trade come from?"
He grinned. "Don't know. Maybe it was some kind of divine intervention. Thought just popped into my head. Given what we learned from the witnesses, I could've easily let Hatch go on his merry way earlier today. Only reason I threw him in a cell was to get him off the street. But when Bull showed up, it occurred to me John Roman might just serve a greater purpose."
"Yeah, but if we turn him loose, might well occur that we'll have to kill him later."
"I know, Lucius. But it'd be worth getting the girl back without a fight, don't you think? Even with a court order in hand, way I had it figured, we'd still have to shoot a bloody path into the Tingwell place to get her out. It'd be a damned dangerous prospect for any party being held captive by that bunch of brainless yahoos."
I couldn't argue with such reasoning. Said, "Well, guess we'll find out just how bad ole Bull wants his hired gunny back. Sun will be up no later than six tomorrow morning. Think I'll get me a little sleep. Next few hours have the potential for some mighty interesting events."
Threw my bedroll on the floor in front of the desk. Piled my pistol belt in the chair. Boz dropped off into dreamland stretched out in his new leather seat before I could get myself situated. Actually, I tried not to sleep, but couldn't help myself. Know it was several hours later, but felt like I had barely closed my eyes for no more than a few seconds, when the door of the jail creaked open. Sound snapped me out of my nap like a bucket of cold water in the face.
Most beautiful woman I'd ever seen stepped into the room like a lost child. Think I fell in love with her soon as I laid eyes on Ruby Black. She appeared scratched, beat-up, dazed, confused, unwashed, and on the verge of running and screaming. At first I thought I was still asleep and dreaming of red-haired angels, or maybe a lost ghost sent to haunt dark corners of my heart.
She held out a trembling hand, gazed down at me with vacant eyes, and said, "Would you be good enough to help me, sir?"
8
"IF EITHER ONE OF US SCARED HIM,
I COULDN'T TELL IT"
I SCRAMBLED AROUND on the floor like a startled turtle. Got tangled up in my bedding, and almost knocked my chair over before stumbling to my sock feet. As I reached for the specter's pale hand, a jolt of blue flame shot from her quavering finger to mine. Spark sizzled and popped through the dense air. When I snatched my hand away, a feeble smile played across her lips.
"Bless me, that's never happened before," she mumbled.
Moved guns and other gear around, and led her to the empty seat. All the noise and movement woke Boz. He turned the wick up on our lantern. Ruby Black's otherworldly materialization seemed to have as profound an effect on my friend as it did on me. He recovered quicker.
"You are Miss Ruby Black, aren't you?" he asked.
"Yes. I'm Ruby Black." She could barely speak, and stared into emptiness as though a large part of her was not there with us.
Then, Boz almost whispered the question I'm certain would have proved difficult for me to ask. "Have you been harmed in any way, Miss Black?" An abundance of hidden concern lay in Boz's gentle query.
"No." Then she paused for some seconds and appeared to search for the right words. Cracked lips tried to form an added response, but nothing came out. She glanced up at me, as if asking for my help again. I felt drawn into a pair of the most astonishing turquoise eyes I'd ever seen.
From somewhere far away, I heard my own voice. "Should we rouse Doc Adamson, Miss Black?"
When no response came, I asked the question another way. "Do you need the attentions of a doctor, miss?"
Long-lashed eyelids flickered in mystification several times before she responded. "No. I've not been harmed. At least not in the way you might imagine."
&nb
sp; Boz said, "Wag Culpepper sent us to find you, miss. He and your family are very concerned about your well-being. I'll get a telegram off to Ranger Headquarters in Fort Worth as soon as I can this morning. Feel certain your family will be advised of these events by no later than noon today."
She slumped in one of the chairs and covered her eyes with a trembling hand. "I do thank you, sir. Would it be possible for me to lie down for a short time? Feels as if I haven't slept since the day I arrived here."
I grasped the shattered girl by the elbow and gently guided her from her seat. The warmth beneath my hand crept up my arm—and spread. "Please take the bed in the corner, miss. I'll rig up a curtain to give you some solitude. While you nap, we'll clear out two of the cells in back and arrange a place of even more privacy."
The exhausted girl fell into Marshal Stonehill's narrow cot as though she'd been shot. Do believe sleep hit before her head touched the pillow.
We stretched a length of rope across the room and draped blankets over it. Ruby Black didn't so much as twitch the whole time we worked. On several occasions she talked in her sleep, but I could never make out exactly what she whispered through barely parted lips. Once it got so quiet I sent Boz to check on her for fear she might have died or something.
A bit later, when I asked him to look in on her, he said, "You're the one what's worried. You go check." From then on, it was as though he'd decided to leave Ruby Black's complete care to me. Think that's what really sealed my fate. Every time I looked at her stunning face, something magical burned through my veins, turned my blood to liquid fire, and made my head spin.
Boz fetched John Roman Hatch out of his cell. Brought him up front and handed the gunman his pistol belt. Killer still sported a nasty-crusted knot on his head. Cut in the middle had scabbed over with black-tinged blood. Wound made wearing a hat some painful for him. Tried to hide my smile, but didn't have much luck at it.
Boz said, "You're one lucky joker, John Roman. Gonna give you a pass on what happened out front yesterday. May hold an inquest sometime in the future, but right now, we've got other fish to fry."
