“I reckon it was like I said,” Daniel remarked. “He’s been fresh shot. Sometime last night I’d say. Just a kid cowboy.”
“Then we are close,” Elder Brother said. “And the Outsiders have another sin to pay for. Before we proceed I shall offer up a prayer for this poor wayfarer’s soul and ask that any sins he may have committed in his life be cleansed away. Afterward, we shall continue our pursuit.”
“We’re closing in on ’em now, Elder Brother,” Daniel said grimly. “No need to worry about that.”
Chapter Nine
The farmers continued their ride toward the southeast toward the bank in Amarillo that would pay them cash for the gold they carried. Ben’s concern for security had grown to the point that he’d instructed the farmers to spread far out, keeping only close enough to say in sight of one another. Each was to concentrate on one assigned section of the prairie horizon in case of other unwanted appearances by travelers.
J.R. Dawkins rode in the rear of the group, enjoying the peace and solitude as he allowed his horse to slowly plod along. His thoughts turned to the gold nuggets in his saddlebags. They could would bring him more cash money than he had ever dreamed of in his entire life. Now he could save the farm and finally quiet the shrewish, complaining wife who constantly found fault with him.
J.R. and Mary Beth had started out together in Nebraska. The first year of farming had been good enough to help them over a rather rocky second one. But when the crops of the third and subsequent seasons began deteriorating, so did their relationship. And the cruel, long winters of that part of the country did little to inject harmony into the marriage.
J.R. blamed bad luck for their hardships, but Mary Beth insisted his farming skills were not even fair; they were meager at best. It wasn’t long before it was all they could do to purchase seed for a year’s crop. In the meantime it seemed that Mary Beth would get pregnant and birth a baby when times were the toughest. The farm continued to decline and it became obvious the best solution to their problems was to move anywhere with a more merciful climate. J.R. had to agree with Mary Beth that their lives wouldn’t get any worse someplace else.
The hapless farmer had heard about California from an elderly man in Nebraska who went there during the gold rush of 1849. The old fellow told him that the weather there was mild enough to make farming a pleasure instead of a painful uncertainty. It sounded like paradise to J.R., and he tried to talk Mary Beth into going that far west. She refused, saying she heard the journey was fraught with hostile Indians, burning deserts and high mountains.
Consequently the couple made inquiries at the nearest government land office regarding available homesteads outside of Nebraska. That was when they learned of the Kiowa Flats in Kansas.
But with the gold he now had, if he went to California he wouldn’t necessarily have to stick to farming. He could open a general store perhaps. The only work he would have to do would be to lounge behind the counter and let people come to him with their wants. By God, there would be no struggling with a plow while staring at a mule’s ass out there in California!
Now his thoughts turned to what it would be like going to the west coast by himself. Mary Beth and her penetrating scolding voice would be far away. And so would those yowling kids.
When J.R. made decisions they were impetuous and impractical; the one he now reached was typical of all the others. He glanced out at the other farmers, spread out so far apart that three were completely out of sight over the horizon. He came to a stop, then waited while they all disappeared from view.
Now alone and unnoticed, J.R. pulled on the reins and turned around. He gave his horse a kick in the ribs to hurry it along in a westward direction.
~*~
The McKenna home was once again the scene of a meeting. All the women, with the exception of Mary Beth Dawkins who claimed illness, were there to discuss the situation. The older boys were out in the fields of the various farms tending to the plowing for the anticipated planting season. The younger kids who had come with their mothers were sent outside to play in the McKenna farmyard.
Elvira, with Nora Turnbull’s help, poured coffee for each of the ladies, then settled back to begin their discussion. “The question,” Elvira said, “is what are we gonna do with the money?”
“Somehow we got to get it back to the original owners,” Lilly Kearns said. “It’s wrong to steal and that’s that.”
“But we need it,” Nora Turnbull countered. “Them crazy people that have it don’t rightly know what to do with it anyhow. We can save our farms with it.”
“It ain’t ours,” Lilly insisted. “Imagine you talking like that, and your husband our minister.”
“That’s what I mean,” Nora said. “If it’s so all-fired wrong how come Buford went along too. He musta done some hard thinking on it. And praying too.”
Edna Lee Steuben, more pregnant than ever, didn’t seem to care about the money one way or the other. “I just want Zachary to get home safe.”
“How’re we gonna get the money back to the folks it belongs to anyhow?” Elvira asked. “If we do, they’ll know who done it and call the law down on us.”
“Let’s do whatever our men decide,” Nora insisted. “They must have talked this thing over right good. I’ll bet than they can tell us a lot more about the situation than we know now. We’ll just have to wait ’til they get back.”
“What’s the matter with you?” Edna Lee abruptly yelled so loud the children in the yard stopped playing and listened.
“Heavens, child,” Lilly exclaimed. “Whatever brought that on?”
“Y’all sit there talking about the money without giving a thought to the men’s safety,” Edna Lee said. “They took guns with ’em, don’t you understand? Suppose one of ’em gets shot?”
The other women sat in silence as the possibility sunk in. “I reckon them crazies ain’t gonna take to getting robbed, are they?” Lilly asked.
“Oh, Lord!” Nora exclaimed.
One of the Turnbull boys burst through the door. “What’s all the yelling about?”
“We was just telling jokes,” Nora told him. “Get on outside and play.” She waited for the boy to leave. “I think what’s called for here is a prayer.”
“You’re the preacher’s wife,” Lilly said.
“I ain’t good at praying,” Nora said. “Buford does all ours, Elviry. You lead us in prayer at the church often times.”
Elvira didn’t answer. She sat in silence thinking deeply as the three women watched her. The only sound was an occasional sob from Edna Lee.
Finally Elvira clasped her hands together and bowed her head. “Dear Lord, we ask you to watch over our menfolk this day. They’re into something bad, Lord, and us wives think they’re gonna need your help to get out of it. And we promise that if there’s anything done that’s wrong. we’ll put it right. All we want is for them to be home safe and sound. We ask you this in Jesus’ name. Amen.”
“Amen,” Lilly said.
“Amen,” Nora repeated. “You said it pretty, Elviry.”
“Amen,” Edna Lee echoed. “I feel better now.”
Elvira found little comfort in her own prayer however. She remained quiet with a sober expression on her face for several more moments before she spoke. “I got a feeling of pure dread.”
Lilly Kearns reached over and patted her shoulder affectionately. “I wouldn’t pay it no mind. You’re just worried. It’s only natural.”
A flitting meadowlark caught J.R. Dawkins’ attention and he watched the bird’s erratic flight until it settled on the prairie a short distance away. He rode around a stand of cottonwoods and suddenly found himself face-to-face with several riders. His face paled as he recognized them as Brethren of the Communal Faith.
“Howdy,” Deacon Daniel said.
J.R. swallowed hard. “How do, Mister.”
“Have you been riding long?” Daniel asked.
“Yeah…well, no,” J.R. replied. “Since morning, I guess.�
�
“Have you seen anything of a group of seven fellers heading southeast?”
“Nope…oh, yeah. I seen seven fellers,” J.R. said stumbling over his words. “But they was going due north…yes, sir…straight as an arrow north.”
Daniel rode up closer as the other Brethren closed in around J.R. Deacon Daniel asked, “D’you mind telling us where you’re headed?”
“I’m going to Californy,” J.R. answered.
Now Elder Brother rode forward and looked into J.R.’s shifting eyes. “You seem nervous, friend.”
J.R. tried to chuckle, but it came out like choking sounds. “I reckon I wasn’t expecting to see nobody. I rode around these trees and there you was. It gimme quite a start.”
“What do you have in those saddlebags?” Elder Brother asked, pointing to them.
“In there? Nothing.”
“That seems strange,” Elder Brother observed. “Now I wonder why a man would be riding all the way to California without a single thing in his saddlebags.”
“Aw, I just meant that there ain’t nothing but clothes and stuff like that,” J.R. replied.
Elder Brother’s gaze seemed to drill into the sodbuster’s skull. “An honest man would have answered straight out what he carried.”
“I’m honest,” J.R. insisted weakly. He took a deep breath. “Well, sir, it was nice palavering with you gents. I gotta go now.”
Deacon Daniel spoke in a low, menacing tone. “We want to look in them saddlebags.”
“Y’all leave me be!” J.R. exclaimed. “You’re just a bunch of robbers!”
Deacon Daniel drew his revolver and aimed it dead center on the farmer. “Don’t fret now, friend. If you’re an honest man you’ll be on your way right quick and none the worse for wear.”
Two of the Brethren rode forward and opened the leather containers. They easily found the sacks of nuggets, holding them high over their heads. “He’s one of ’em!”
“I found the stuff!” J.R. yelped. “I found it! After them seven fellers I tole you about passed by, I found them saddlebags laying on the ground. I was afeared y’all was friends of theirs. That’s why I lied to you.”
Deacon Daniel swung the pistol so quickly the farmer didn’t see it coming. J.R. felt a sharp blow to his head and he was suddenly on the grass by his horse’s hooves.
Elder Brother stared down at the cringing farmer. “You are a thief and murderer as well as a liar!”
“No, I ain’t!” J.R. sobbed. “I didn’t do nothing.”
The Brethren dismounted and two pulled him to his feet. Elder brother stared his hatred at J.R. “You have killed seven men for the gold, you sinner, and you will be punished.”
“I didn’t kill nobody, Mister!”
Elder Brother nodded to the Brethren who held the farmer. “Tie him to one of those trees.”
J.R. yelled his protests as they dragged him to the cottonwoods and tied him up. Elder Brother wasted no time. “Which way did your friends go?” The leader’s fist smashed J.R.’s nose three times before he stepped back. “The wrath of the Lord is in those blows I dealt you, Outsider! Where are your fellow infidels?”
J.R.’s nose was broken and bleeding badly. “I ain’t riding with no friends. Cain’t you see I’m alone?”
Elder Brother’s fury drowned out his self-control, and he began punching and kicking the hapless farmer for several long moments until Daniel pulled him away.
“Let’s rest a minute, Elder Brother,” the deacon cautioned. He led his leader out of hearing of the others. “We got to remember that this feller could be telling the truth. Maybe he really did find them saddlebags.”
“He’s a liar,” Elder Brother insisted. “And we must extract information from the miserable sinner.”
Deacon Daniel nodded his agreement. “You’re right, Elder Brother. If we cain’t beat it out of him, then I know an Injun way that’ll have him singing out right quick.”
The leader of the Brethren went back to where J.R. was tied up. “You killed six of our brothers down in that mine, you wretched demon from hell.”
“I didn’t,” J.R. insisted. Now he realized that Doss Kearns’ suspicions of Ben McKenna killing the miners was true.
“And you killed a passing stranger as well,” Elder Brother continued. “The Lord may take mercy on you in the hereafter, but I won’t unless you give me the information I seek. Where are your friends? Which direction did they take? Where are they going?”
“I don’t know nothing about no friends,” J.R. replied. He was surprised at the lengths he was going to in order to protect the other sodbusters.
Elder Brother began whipping the hapless prisoner’s face with his quirt, screaming unintelligibly. After a couple of minutes of the abuse, Deacon Daniel and the other Brethren feared he would kill the farmer. Once again, they pulled him away.
“I’ll talk to him,” Deacon Daniel said. He went up to J.R. and shook him. “Listen to me, feller, if you think things is bad now, you’re dead wrong. They’re gonna get worser. Now you answer our questions, hear?”
J.R. spoke through bloody swollen lips. “I don’t know nothing.”
“Then we’ll use fire to make you talk. Fire!”
J.R. stiffened. When he was a boy he had witnessed a man burn to death in a barn fire. The unfortunate farmer had tried to rescue his mules and rushed into the burning structure. He came out screaming a moment later, his body wrapped in flames. In nightmares, J.R. would hear the drawn out, agonized howls of the unfortunate’s horrible demise.
“Don’t set me on fire!” J.R. begged.
“I will if you don’t tell me what I want to know,” Deacon Daniel said.
“Please don’t set me on fire!” J.R. pleaded again.
“Well, we’re going to,” Deacon Daniel assured him. He realized he had hit a very tender nerve. “Me and my brethren are gonna gather up a lot of wood and burn you up unless you tell us about them friends of yours.”
“They’re going to Amarillo to change that gold for cash money,” J.R. said.
Elder Brother now rejoined the interrogation. “How did you know about our mine?”
“Ben McKenna learnt about it from a gal in Caldera. She used to live with y’all.”
“That damned-to-hell disobedient Sister Hephzipah!” Elder Brother exclaimed. “Is she with them?”
“Yes. She’s Ben’s sweetheart.”
“Ah!” Deacon Daniel said. “She’d have left the tracks I thought was a little feller. She musta waited back in their camp while they stole the gold.”
Elder Brother’s expression turned to dismay and sadness. “Why did you kill our brothers in the mine? They were helpless and tied up.”
“Ben McKenna done that, Mister,” J.R. said. “We heard shots down in the mine. But he told us he was just scaring ’em. We believed him ’til he kilt that cowboy. Ben’s a bad’un.”
“What is his name again?” Elder Brother asked.
“Ben,” J.R. said. “Ben McKenna.”
“We’ll remember that,” Elder Brother said. “And you are just a bad as he is.”
“I’m a good man, Mister. I never done nothing wrong in my life ’cept to get drunk now and again. We needed the money. We’re all farmers and we was about to lose our land…” The effort of talking was too much and J.R. fainted from the abuse he had taken.
Elder Brother turned to Daniel. “Make sure he’s tied up so he cannot free himself. The rest of us will make a beeline for Amarillo and intercept the other murderers. We shall bring them back here for all to suffer death together.”
Deacon Daniel said, “This feller might die here of thirst before we get back. Or coyotes could get him.”
Elder Brother shrugged. “Then it will be the Lord’s will.” He turned to the others. “To your horses! We must complete our quest of vengeance.”
Fifty yards away, hidden behind a bushy rise, the half-breed Charlie Chasseur had been watching what was going on. He had cut the Brethren’s trail the day b
efore, thinking they were the farmers. He caught up with them when they encountered J.R. Dawkins. Chasseur had been able to easily hear the interrogation and was now fully informed of the situation. All he had to do was let the Brethren lead him to the farmers. Things were going better than expected.
Chapter Ten
Ben McKenna’s laughter echoed down the wooded draw where he and the farmers had reined to a halt. “Ya’ll are real tough hombres, ain’t you? Outlaws through and through,” he said sarcastically.
“We don’t want to go on without J.R., that’s all,” Doss Kearns said.
“Don’t worry about him,” Ben insisted. “He’ll come wandering in. He prob’ly fell asleep in the saddle. I always knowed he went around with his head up his ass anyhow.”
“Maybe there’s something wrong,” Zachary Steuben said.
“We’re going back,” Doss announced.
Ben shrugged. “Do what you want. Me and Becky are going to Amarillo and get our money. Just remember that if y’all ain’t with me, that banker won’t have nothing to do with you.”
“If J.R. don’t join us, we’ll lose out on the gold he’s toting,” Doss argued.
Ben chuckled. “I made sure that dumb bastard wasn’t carrying a full share. It’ll still be the same amount of cash for each of us.”
Ed interrupted. “But it’ll mean nothing for his wife and kids.”
“Now that’s real tough,” Ben commented with obvious sarcasm. “If he’s dumb enough to fall off his horse and get lost, then that’s his tough luck. We ain’t waiting. Now are y’all coming along or not?”
“Ben—“
The bullet cut between the McKenna brothers and smacked into a tree several feet away. More shots followed and the sodbusters looked up the draw to see horsemen charging down on them.
“For God’s sake!” Doss yelled out. “It’s them damn Brethren!”
Ben’s pistol was the first drawn and he succeeded in getting off four quick shots. One emptied an attacker’s saddle and the rest turned away, riding up a slope, getting out of range of the farmers.
The Devil's Bonanza (A Piccadilly Publishing Western Book Page 9
