“Do they know how to handle themselves in a fight? Things could get rough.”
Without hesitation, Jarrett said, “They can handle themselves. They know what they’re up against. Between your men and mine, that makes at least five. You have more than one deputy, right?”
“I do, but someone’s got to stay behind to watch the town. There are other folks in Flat Pass apart from you, Mr. Pekoe.”
Biting back the urge to answer that with a quick punch to the face, Jarrett said, “I know that. I’m just saying the longer we wait, the farther away those killers can get.”
“You told me it wouldn’t be hard to track an entire herd, right?”
“Yes, I said that but—”
“Then one day or two won’t make a difference,” the sheriff said.
“How many more men do you need?” Jarrett asked.
“At least one or two more, I’d say.”
“Fine. I’ll help find someone.”
Rubin stretched his legs and showed Jarrett a patronizing smile. “If it’s all the same to you, why don’t you rest up and get those stitches looked at? Forming a posse is my job, so just let me do it.”
Reaching up to his head, Jarrett felt the rough patch where some blood had dried. He hadn’t felt the stitches in his thigh tear at any point during the ride, but the wound also hadn’t stopped aching either. Ignoring the bloody spot, he said, “If I find someone, I’ll bring him to you.”
“It’ll need to be someone other than one of your cowboys,” the deputy said. “We got enough of them, so we’ll need someone who can handle a gun.”
“Yeah, I understand,” Jarrett said.
The younger deputy, perhaps feeling territorial or merely flexing his muscles, stepped forward while glaring fiercely back at him. “Maybe it’d be best for you to stay out of this altogether. Put your affairs in order and such.”
“Put my affairs in order?”
“Yeah. Don’t you need to pay a visit to the undertaker?”
This time, Jarrett reacted before he had any chance to think twice about it. He swung his right fist in a quick arc that caught the deputy squarely in the jaw and sent the younger man staggering backward. His other fist was on its way to the deputy’s face as well but didn’t get a chance to land before the other man charged at him.
Only momentarily taken off his guard when the deputy’s shoulder thumped him in the torso, Jarrett planted his feet and then drove his elbow straight down into the deputy’s shoulder. The younger man let out a grunt before shoving him back to get some space between them.
“Stop it!” the sheriff said. “Both of you!”
When the deputy swung at his face, Jarrett managed to duck beneath it. He wasn’t quite fast enough to dodge the next blow, which was an uppercut that clipped his chin and stood him up straight.
“I said stop!”
Like any other man in his early twenties, the deputy had to prove his point until it was driven into the ground. He bared his teeth and pounded a fist into Jarrett’s stomach to force all the air from his lungs. Only then did he step back and raise his hands a bit. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll stop.”
“What about you?” Rubin asked as he looked over to Jarrett. “You through?”
Jarrett caught his breath and spat some blood onto the ground. He approached the deputy and made sure the young man’s eyes were on him when he punched the young man in the midsection as if he meant to drive his fist all the way out through his spine. Nodding while moving away, he said, “Now I’m through.”
“You’re through all right,” the deputy swore.
Stepping between both men, Sheriff Rubin held a hand out to Jarrett and physically pushed his deputy back. “You’re both done, you hear me? Both of you!”
“But he hit me first!” the deputy said. “I’m a lawman and he swung first!”
“I saw what happened, Tom,” the sheriff said, “and you had it coming. Look me in the eye and tell me different.”
The younger man shrank back half a step but quickly regained the snarl on his face. Jabbing a finger toward Jarrett, he said, “Watch your step, rancher.”
Jarrett rubbed his jaw and smiled back at the deputy. Although he wasn’t trying to taunt the younger man, seeing the frustration on his face was definitely a pleasant sight.
“Get inside and get the supplies ready for us to ride out on that posse,” Rubin said to his deputy. “And you,” he said while shifting his attention to Jarrett, “just keep your mouth shut.”
Once Tom had stepped inside the office and shut the door, Rubin let out a long sigh. “It’s like dealing with my sister’s kids,” he sighed.
Since he wasn’t about to apologize for his actions, Jarrett simply put them behind him by saying, “I’ll find that other man to ride with us. Even if I don’t, I want to head out no later than tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow would have been the earliest we could go,” Rubin pointed out.
“No. The earliest would be right now. I’m the one that’ll be tracking that herd and I say the trail will just get too cold if we wait much longer than that.”
“Fine. Fine. Between the two of us, we should be able to scrape up at least one more man. If both of us find one, all the better. Just don’t get a swelled head about what happened here just now,” the sheriff added while sweeping his hand over the patch of ground where Jarrett and Tom had traded blows. “You step out of line, no matter who runs off at the mouth first, and I’ll see to it that you’re in one of my jail cells while that posse is riding. You got me?”
“Yeah.”
Still grumbling angrily to himself, the sheriff turned on his heel and stomped into his office. When he slammed the door shut, he rattled the front window within its frame.
Once he was alone, Jarrett turned away from the office and allowed himself to let out a breath and wince in pain. He’d been in his fair share of fights, but the bumps and bruises piled up a whole lot worse now compared to when he’d been closer to Tom’s age. It wasn’t until that moment when he noticed how many folks had been drawn to the scuffle between him and Tom. It wasn’t a large crowd, but the half dozen or so locals standing nearby were enjoying the show.
Now that the display was over, the crowd began to disperse. Jarrett was given a few approving smiles from some within the crowd who must have had similarly low opinions of Tom before they too wandered away. Jarrett had started walking down Main Street when he saw one of the members of that crowd was still watching him.
Already feeling a little embarrassed that his confrontation had inadvertently taken center stage, Jarrett looked directly at the stranger and asked, “Something I can help you with?”
The stranger had features that looked as if they’d been blasted by years of desert winds. He was somewhere in his late thirties and judging by the thick stubble on his chin, might have sat in a barber’s chair on fewer than a dozen occasions in that span of time. The only move he made in response to the tersely worded question was to angle his head slightly and spit a wad of tobacco juice to the ground. After studying him for a moment, Jarrett decided he wasn’t likely to get much more from the stranger, so he started walking once again down the street.
“I saw what happened with you and that deputy,” the stranger said.
Without breaking his stride, Jarrett replied, “You’re hardly the only one.”
“You ask me, that kid had it coming.” The stranger spat once more and added, “That and maybe a bit worse.”
“Well, if you want to give it to him, he’s right in there.”
Every two or three steps Jarrett took, he could hear the solid knock of boots against the boardwalk on the other side of the street. He looked back to find the stranger keeping pace with him using longer strides. When it became clear that the stranger meant to keep following him, Jarrett crossed the street to stand in front of him. The man was
wearing a pistol on his hip, which might have made Jarrett think twice about confronting him a week ago. After what had filled the last few of his days, he was hardly impressed by such a thing.
“What is it?” Jarrett asked. “You another deputy?”
The other man cracked half a smile. “Not as such.”
“Then what do you want?”
“First off . . . I want to let you know I heard about what happened to your ranch.”
“I imagine everybody’s heard about that by now,” Jarrett said.
“It’s a real shame.”
“Yes. It is.”
Obviously not one for making speeches, the stranger lowered his head just long enough to collect his thoughts. Then he lifted his gaze again and said, “I also heard some of what was being said between you and the sheriff. There’s a posse that’s gonna be formed?”
“That’s right.”
“I’d like to ride on that posse.”
Jarrett looked the other man up and down. “Can you handle a gun?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Things may get rough.”
“I heard the talk,” the stranger replied. “I can handle rough.”
“Why do you want to ride along with us?”
“What’s it matter? Look, if you don’t want me to come, then I won’t.”
“No,” Jarrett said quickly. “That’s not it. I’ve just never recruited men for this kind of thing. I figured there were questions that needed to be asked. Honestly we can use all the help we can get.”
“That’s what I figured.”
“What’s your name?”
“Lem Beauchamp.”
“Ever shoot a man, Lem?”
“I reckon I have.”
“All right, then,” Jarrett said. “You’re hired.”
Chapter 13
If there was more time, Jarrett would have liked to give the lawmen some distance for a while to let them cool off. But time was something that was in short supply and slipping away all too quickly. Jarrett did take a short while to visit the bank to make a withdrawal and then met Lem outside so they could both march straight back into the sheriff’s office. Judging by the looks he got from the men in there, things hadn’t even started to cool down between Jarrett and Tom.
“What is it now?” Sheriff Rubin asked impatiently.
“I’ve found someone else to ride with us,” Jarrett said while motioning toward the man who’d followed him through the door. “His name is Lem Beauchamp.”
“Never heard of him.”
“What does that matter?”
Pressing both hands flat upon his desk to support his weight as he stood up, Rubin said, “If I’m to ride with another man through dangerous territory and give him my blessing under the letter of the law, I want to know something about him.”
“Any other provisions you want to tell me, Sheriff?” Jarrett sighed. “Perhaps you’d like me to find someone of a certain height or eye color?”
The sheriff gritted his teeth and circled around his desk. His gaze swept over Lem from head to toe, lingering just a bit longer when he saw the .44 Smith & Wesson holstered at his side. “You know how to use that pistol?”
“Good enough,” Lem replied.
“Ever ride on a posse?”
Lem nodded. “Joined up with Marshal Callow in Missouri some years ago. Ran down a gang of bank robbers with him. Year after that, I hunted down a man who killed his wife and mistress in Kentucky.”
“Who was in charge of that posse?”
“Sheriff by the name of Bob Whittaker.”
“Never heard of any of those men either.” Turning toward the other lawman in the room, Rubin asked, “Any of those names strike you as familiar, Tom?”
“Nope,” the deputy replied.
“Anyone else, Mr. Beauchamp?” Rubin asked. “Anyone I might have heard of?”
Lem drew a long breath and shook his head. Before he could say anything, Jarrett stepped in and announced, “This is ridiculous. You asked me to find a volunteer for the posse and here he is. Now, not only do you want to know him personally, but you’re gonna hold it against him because he did work for other lawmen you don’t know? How many other lawmen are in this country? Hundreds? Thousands?”
“I take your point, Jarrett. No need to push the matter,” Rubin said. “We could be gone awhile,” he said to Lem. “That be a problem?”
“No,” Lem said.
“Then I guess you’re on the posse. Doesn’t pay much.”
“Fine.”
“All right, then. We ride out tomorrow, bright and early. You and Mr. Pekoe can meet us here. Until then, I suggest you get your affairs in order . . . somewhere other than here.”
“Or within eyeshot of me,” Tom added.
“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Jarrett said. “Come on, Lem. I’ve got a line of credit at the dry goods store just down the street. I’ll see to it you’re properly outfitted.”
Both of them left the sheriff’s office. The moment he shut the door, Jarrett could hear the two lawmen discussing something. By the sound of it, neither of them was very happy.
“They don’t want to ride out anytime soon,” Lem said in his dry, scratchy voice.
“I got that impression myself.”
“There a reason for that?”
“Probably,” Jarrett said. “As to what it is, I don’t know for certain. Could be they’re just lazy and don’t want to undertake a ride like this. Could be they’re scared. These rustlers are killers, after all.”
“Yeah,” Lem said. “I heard as much.”
“I don’t really care what their reasons are. All that concerns me is that we find those rustlers and bring them to justice. Having a lawman and some others along with me will just make it easier.”
“And if those men don’t come?”
Jarrett had been walking along Main Street heading toward a short row of shops. Stopping to look directly at Lem, he asked, “Why wouldn’t they?”
“None of them seemed too eager to leave town.”
“Like I said before,” Jarrett said distastefully, “they’re lazy or scared.”
“That could be a bad mix. Especially if things come down to a shooting fight.”
“They’re still lawmen.”
Lem made a noise that sounded like a muffled cough. It wasn’t until Jarrett saw the wry grin on the other man’s face that he realized Lem was actually laughing. “What’s so funny?” Jarrett asked.
“You talk like pinning a badge to a man’s chest makes a difference in who he is or what he’ll do when things get rough.”
“Doesn’t it?”
Lem laughed one more time, although it was kept even deeper inside than his first attempt. Rather than question him any further, Jarrett forged ahead with his main purpose, which was to get ready for a long ride.
Being the owner of a prosperous ranch for a good stretch of time, he’d fostered good relationships with several local merchants. With his ranch being nothing but a pile of ashes anymore, he had to do his best to convince other businessmen to honor his credit. The Buffalo Chip’s account had been paid in advance, but Jarrett didn’t expect the other merchants in town to be as generous.
Their first stop was Mabry’s Dry Goods. Jarrett had done almost all of his purchasing at that store ever since the Lazy J became a functioning ranch. As always, Dell Mabry sat behind the front counter. Part of his round face was hidden behind the cash register and the rest was covered by the newspaper he was reading.
“Howdy, Dell,” Jarrett said with a wave as he walked inside. “Looking to buy some supplies.”
Although the store’s owner was quick with a smile, his face soon darkened as he said, “Hello, Jarrett. Sorry to hear about what happened. Is it true what they say about your brother and his family?”
<
br /> “Yes,” Jarrett replied since he wasn’t ready to say much more than that on the subject. “The sheriff’s forming a posse to hunt down the men that made off with my herd. Care to sign on?”
Dell chuckled and patted his ample belly. “I’d only slow you down.”
“I don’t know about that. Me and Lem here are riding out in the morning, though. Any chance we can get our supplies here on my account?”
Although Dell winced at that, he nodded slowly. “Under the circumstances, I’d say so. Any notion of when the Lazy J will be rebuilt?”
“Not yet.”
“Well . . . under the circumstances . . .” Dell made a face as if he were consoling a boy who’d just buried a beloved pet. Finally he made a decision and nodded. “Your account is still open.”
“I appreciate that,” Jarrett said.
“Come see me when you get back from that posse and we’ll discuss making any necessary changes to our arrangement.”
“I’ll do that.”
Jarrett and Lem gathered up the barest of necessities for a prolonged ride. They checked in with Dell, got another meek nod, and were on their way. Once outside with their bundles in hand, Lem said, “He was mighty concerned about his money.”
“That’s his business,” Jarrett replied while stuffing his supplies into Twitch’s saddlebags. “What would you expect?”
“Maybe a little compassion.”
“We got plenty of it, and I won’t turn my nose up at it, you hear?”
Lem nodded. “I was just talking, is all. Ain’t never had someone show much kindness to me in that regard. Didn’t know quite what to expect.”
“I’m new to this as well,” Jarrett said. “Let’s just see if we can get the rest of what we need.”
All that remained was for Jarrett to buy some feed and a bit more canned fruit. They had to go to two more stores for that and Jarrett was treated in a manner similar to what he’d experienced at Dell’s place. The shop owners knew what had befallen the Lazy J and pitched in what they could to help Jarrett in his time of need. It was a bittersweet afternoon. While Jarrett was plenty thankful to have friends who would help him however they could, it stung his pride to have to cash in on pity rather than what he’d earned by the sweat of his brow. In the end, however, he got the supplies he’d needed and the posse was set to carry on.
Vigilante Dawn Page 9
