“Yes, sir, I sure will. I’ve learned a whole bunch in this last month. Pa always said if you wanted to stay alive, you had to continuously be learning. That’s what I aim to do.
“Could you gimme another two hundred rounds of that .44 American for my revolvers?”
“That’s a lot of firepower, Son. You already have two hundred rounds in your saddlebags.”
“I plan on doing some practicing along the way. Also, do you have a left-handed holster that’ll fit this gunbelt? I want to start working on this left hand.”
“Well, let me see.” JT shuffled under the counter for a bit and pulled out a perfect match. “Think that’ll work for you?”
Clay looked it over, took off his gunbelt, slid the crossdraw holster off, and slipped the left-handed holster on. He put the gunbelt back on, pulled the Model 3 from the crossdraw holster and dropped it into the left-handed holster. He tried drawing several times. “Feels mighty awkward.”
“Keep trying, Son. A man with your coordination will have it down in no time. You want this crossdraw holster?”
“Yep. I’m gonna hang on to that until I’m comfortable drawing with my left hand.” Clay switched the holsters back, slid the Model 3 into the crossdraw, and put the left-handed holster in the saddlebags.
He paid for the holster and ammunition. “Mr. Brennan, I thought of two more things. I need a pocket watch. The killers took Pa’s. If you’ve got something, not too expensive, I’d like to have it.”
JT rustled through a drawer. “Here you are, Clay. Took this on trade for some supplies. It seems to run good and is pretty solid.”
Clay took it for a moment and looked it over. The metal housing had a pewter cast to it. He pushed the release and the top sprang open. Nice big numbers. “I’ll take it. The other thing’s a little harder. I’d like to get Lynn something for her birthday, but I don’t have the slightest idea what to get a girl. Could you help?”
“It just so happens,” JT said, “I can. Lynn’s had her eye on this here piece of ribbon for some time. Thought her ma would get it for her, but she didn’t.”
Clay looked at it for a moment. The ribbon was almost exactly the color of Lynn’s eyes. She’d be mighty pretty wearing it in her hair. “I’ll take it.”
JT folded it over gently and handed it to Clay. Clay slipped it into his vest pocket. “Thank you,” Clay said. “How much do I owe you?”
“Give me two dollars for the watch and two bits for the ribbon.”
Clay tossed two dollars and twenty-five cents on the counter, then picked up the saddlebags and slicker and threw them over his left shoulder. “Guess I’ll be headin’ out.”
He felt an emptiness. He had come to like this old man, and here he was moving on. I’d better get used to feeling like this. Don’t know when I’ll be able to settle down.
JT walked him to the door. “I’ll admit I’m gonna miss you, Son. Wish you were settlin’ down around here. You’ve made some friends. People respect you. Lynn has become downright attached to you. She’s gonna miss you.”
“Yes, sir, and I’ll miss her.” He felt the boy coming out in him, and tamped it down. “You going to be at her party?”
“Wouldn’t miss it. A granddaughter turns seventeen only once. Reckon I’ll see you there.”
The two men shook hands. Clay stepped out the door and heard the tinkling of the bell for the last time. This sure is a lonely business.
He turned north up the street, and crossed over. After walking up the boardwalk past a couple of buildings, he entered the bank.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Barlow,” the teller said. “I’ll get Mr. Killganan.”
Elmer Killganan came into the front of the bank from his office. He opened the gate between the teller’s cage and the front with his left hand and offered his right to Clay. “Good afternoon, Clay. Glad to see you. Let’s go back to my office.”
Clay shook Killganan’s hand and walked straight back toward his office. Killganan followed, closing the door behind him. Killganan motioned for him to have a seat in front of his desk. “How are you, Clay?”
“I’m fine, Mr. Killganan.”
Killganan sat in his desk chair and pulled it up to the desk. “I want you to know I admire the way you handled the confrontation with Cotton. I’d hate to see the boy killed. I think there is still hope for him. He can be quite a nice lad.”
“Yes, sir. I guess I haven’t seen that side of him.”
“No, you haven’t. Let’s get to business. Your wire came in this morning.” Killganan opened a desk drawer and took out a stack of bills wrapped in a piece of paper. He took the paper and slid it across to Clay. “This is a receipt showing you received the five hundred dollars minus the five percent transfer fee.”
Clay looked it over, signed it, and slid the paper back across the desk.
Killganan added his signature, then put it back in the desk drawer. He then counted out four hundred seventy-five dollars. “That’s a lot of money, Clay.”
“Yes, sir, it is. But Hayes stole just about everything I had with me, so I have to replace all that gear. When Pa was living, of course, he took care of all the money, he and Ma. I never realized how expensive living is.” He smiled and said, “Guess I’m figuring it out.”
“Life is expensive,” Killganan said. “Just a word of advice. If you don’t have it working for you, money goes through your hands quickly. I understand you still have money left in the bank in Uvalde. Don’t just let it sit there. Find a way to make it work for you.”
“Thank you, Mr. Killganan. Pa told me the same thing. I have a couple of ideas.
“If you don’t mind.” Clay slid off his boots and put two hundred in each boot and pocketed the remaining seventy-five. “Reckon that’s about the safest place I know to carry it.”
“That’s smart, Clay. I’m glad to see you’re thinking. Now, Lynn is expecting you at her party.”
“I plan on going. I’ll go by the livery and get my horses and gear, then I’ll be by.”
“One thing, Clay. Lynn thinks a great deal of you. She’s my only daughter. Don’t break her heart.”
Clay was surprised at Killganan’s frankness. But JT had said that this man loved his family. Clay had seen it manifested before with the care in which Killganan treated his wife and daughter. “No, sir. That’s not my intention at all. But I do have to leave. I have a job to do, and Mr. Killganan, I won’t rest until the murderers of my folks are brought to justice.”
“I understand. Just treat her kindly.”
Clay stood. This time, he thrust his hand out to Killganan. “It’s a pleasure meeting you, sir.”
Killganan shook hands with him. “Thank you. I’ll see you at the party.”
Clay stepped back into the bright sunshine, pulled out his watch, and checked the time. He had about twenty minutes to make the party. Plenty of time to go to the livery and pick up his horses. They were probably restless and ready to move on.
He walked into the stables as the smithy came from the back.
“Ready to settle up and pick up my gear,” Clay said.
“Gear’s in the office. Nothing to settle, Mister. You paid me plenty when you brought ’em in. I noticed that’s a mighty used saddle you have there.”
“Reckon I could use another one to ride. I was using the old one to hang the panniers on.”
“Got a couple you might like.” The blacksmith took him over to a rail where several saddles were hanging.
Clay looked them over. “How much for this one?”
The smithy scratched his beard and rubbed the saddle. “This is a mighty fine saddle, good strong leather, as you can see, used enough so it won’t be squeakin’ on you. I’m not really looking to sell it, but I’d be willing to part with it for only sixty dollars.”
Clay looked at the man in feigned disbelief. “Mister, I may be young, but I’m not that young, and I don’t see any gold inlay. I’ll buy your saddle—in fact, I’ll give twenty-five dollars as it sits.”
Th
e smithy looked aghast at Clay. “Why, Son, that’s highway robbery. I couldn’t think of going that low. I’d just be giving it away. Tell you what I’ll do, I’ll let you have it for fifty dollars, even though you’re taking money out of my children’s mouths.”
Clay shook his head in amazement. He looked out the double doors of the stable toward the general store, looked back at the saddle, and rubbed the seat and cantle. “Mister, this seat’s so thin I’ll probably have saddle sores within an hour of forking it. I’m tired of dickering with you. I’ll give you thirty-seven dollars and fifty cents. That’s more than it’s worth, but I think you ought to be able to make a profit.”
The blacksmith’s face looked like he’d dropped a red-hot horseshoe down the front of his pants. He shook his head, kicked at the dirt, patted the saddle again, and spit. “Boy, don’t you know a man’s got to make a living? I’ve got mouths to feed. My family depends on me. Why, I know for a fact this saddle has only been ridden by one other man. He was old and frail. He was so light this here saddle likely didn’t even know he was there. You’ll be able to ride for days without any discomfort. But, I’ll make you one last offer, though it pains me to be giving this saddle away.” The blacksmith turned and spit again, for emphasis. “I’ll let you steal it from me, and this is my last and final offer, for forty dollars. Not a cent less.”
Clay immediately stuck his hand out. “You’ve got a deal, as long as you’ll throw in that nice blanket hanging over there.”
The blacksmith turned and looked at the red checkered horse blanket, shook his head, and reluctantly took Clay’s hand. “Boy, you’re as hard a trader as a Tonkawa.”
Clay shook the man’s hand and grinned. “That’s who taught me.”
The blacksmith laughed. “Boy, I ain’t had so much fun in a coon’s age. Let me help you with your gear.” He turned back to the office. When he came out, he had the two panniers in one hand and Clay’s old saddle and blanket in the other.
Clay grabbed the red checkered blanket and laid it over the sorrel’s back, smoothed it out, and tossed the new saddle on top of it. He was cinching the saddle up while the blacksmith saddled the buckskin and fastened the panniers.
Clay said to the blacksmith over the saddle, “I’m going to need a scabbard for my rifle.”
The blacksmith nodded. “I’ve got work to do today. Don’t have time to spend the rest of my day bargaining. I’ve got one I’ll let you have for five dollars. Is that fair enough for you?”
Clay laughed out loud. “Yes, sir, that’ll be just fine.”
The blacksmith brought the scabbard, and Clay fastened it to the saddle on the sorrel. He secured the saddlebags and slicker behind the saddle and mounted.
The blacksmith handed him the reins to the buckskin. “Good luck to you.”
Clay turned the horses out of the stable and walked them into the street. He rode toward the Killganans’ house. The marshal stepped out of the alleyway alongside the stable.
“Marshal,” Clay said, pulling the horses up, “what can I do for you?”
The marshal glanced up and down the street. He scratched his sideburns, and after waiting a few moments, he finally looked back up to Clay. “I just wanted to thank you for not shooting my boy. He’s got a lot to learn. I’m glad he has more time to learn it.”
Clay rested his arm on the horn and tilted his black hat to the back of his head. “Marshal, believe me, it was my pleasure. I’ve no desire for a gunfight, nor to kill a man. I’ve got to do what I must, but after that, I’m thinkin’ I’d like to go back to the homeplace and settle down. That’s sounding better every day.”
The marshal nodded. Frown wrinkles played across his forehead. “Hope you can, Son. But I’ve got a feelin’ about you. You’ve got the makings of a lawman. What with having no desire to build a reputation, you’d make a good one. Good luck to you.”
The two men nodded to each other, and Clay rode on toward the Killganan place.
The party was going full swing when he pulled up to the hitching rail. The musicians were already tuned up, and the fiddlers and caller were swinging along to “Cotton-Eye Joe.” The yard was just big enough to accommodate the dancers at one end. Several couples were kicking up their heels and enjoying the lively square dance, while others stood and clapped to the rhythm.
Clay stepped from the saddle and tied his horses to the hitching rail. Lynn was radiant. He had never seen a girl or woman as pretty as her, except maybe his ma. Lynn was talking to a girl he didn’t know, which wasn’t a surprise, he thought. He didn’t know much of anybody in this town. She saw Clay, smiled and waved, then came running down the porch steps. She thought better of her public display and slowed to a quick walk.
He took his hat off when she approached. “Happy birthday,” he said.
“Thank you, kind sir. Oh, I’m glad you could come, Clay. Put your hat back on, silly.” Lynn looked at the loaded horses. “You’re leaving?”
“Reckon I have to, Lynn. You know what I’ve got to do. But let’s not talk about that. You’re about as pretty as a fresh spring day.” He pulled the ribbon from his vest. “Sorry it ain’t wrapped. Happy birthday.”
“Oh, Clay, it’s so lovely.” Then she grinned at him and said, “Grandpa told you, didn’t he?”
“I guess I’m caught. He did. I wanted something you really liked, and he said this was it.”
“He was so right. Thank you for the ribbon, but most of all, thank you for thinking about me.” She pinned the ribbon in her hair and put her arm in his. “Come, Mother wants to talk to you.”
They walked up the porch to where Mrs. Killganan was standing, smiling. She was almost as lovely as her daughter. “Good afternoon, Clay. I see you are about to leave us.”
Clay removed his hat again. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll be going to the fort and then pulling out. I’ll camp somewhere between here and San Felipe del Rio.”
“Lynn, honey, would you go to the kitchen and get your father a cup of coffee and take it to him? You know how parties don’t agree with him. I’m sure he’s in the study reading.”
“Yes, Mother.” Lynn flashed a smile at Clay that made him feel warm inside. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” And she was gone.
“Clay, I wanted to take a few moments to talk to you, alone. You know that Lynn has strong feelings for you.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes, ma’am, I do. I’m pretty sure I feel the same way about her. I can’t be positive, ’cause I’ve never felt this way before.”
Mrs. Killganan smiled a knowing, sad smile. “I know you do. Mr. Killganan and I like you, Clay. You could have killed Cotton yesterday, but you exercised restraint. I admire that. Come back, Clay. That will make us all happy, especially Lynn.”
Clay felt that warm feeling inside that he had always felt around his mother. It caused an ache he feared might never go away. Mrs. Killganan was a kind person.
“I’ll remember that, ma’am. If I don’t see him, tell Mr. Killganan I appreciate his hospitality. It’s mighty nice to be in your home.”
Lynn opened the door and stepped out on the porch. “Father wants to see you, Mother.” She laughed quietly. “I think he wants to know how long my party is going to last.”
Mrs. Killganan turned to go, but looked back over her shoulder and said, “Remember what I said, Clay.”
Lynn took Clay’s arm and pulled him toward the swing. They sat down and watched the party. Another square dance was playing, and Clay could see Mr. Brennan swinging a girl Lynn’s age.
He looked back to Lynn when she said, “Clay, what’s going to happen to us?”
Her being so direct caught him off guard. “I don’t know. I want to come back. I’d really like to come back, but I don’t know what’s going to happen.”
“Clay, you know I care about you.”
“I feel the same about you, Lynn. I just don’t know what will happen. I’ll promise you this much: If I’m able to come back, I will.”
“Clay, that’s a
ll I need to hear. I’ll be going to school this fall at Addran. Pa will give in. If I’m not here, that’s where I’ll be. I’ll be waiting for you.”
These were new feelings for Clay. He wanted to stay, but he knew he must go. He held Lynn’s hands for a moment. “I must go.”
“I know. I’ll miss you. Please be careful.”
Lynn’s grandfather walked up onto the porch as Clay stood.
“You leavin’?” JT said.
“Yes, sir, I’ve got to head to the fort, and then west.”
The Killganans had come out on the porch. The party was going strong. Clay could feel the warmth of Lynn standing next to him.
“You take care, Son,” JT said. “We’ll be looking for you.”
“Good luck, Clay,” Mr. Killganan said.
“Return safely, and God bless you,” Mrs. Killganan said.
“Thank you, folks. It’s been a real pleasure meeting you. I’ll be seeing you.” Clay shook hands with the two men, and Mrs. Killganan stood on her toes to kiss him on the cheek.
Lynn said, too brightly, “I’ll walk you out.”
The two of them walked from the porch to the horses. The time passed quickly.
“Don’t forget me, Clay. Please take care of yourself.” Lynn, like her mother, stood on her toes and kissed Clay on the cheek.
“I’ll never forget you. I’ll be back.” He untied the two horses and mounted the sorrel. He looked down, for a moment, into Lynn’s face. Tears were running down her soft cheeks. Her face cast indelibly in his memory, he turned his horses toward the fort.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Clay stopped at the creek flowing out of the springs and watered the horses. After they had drunk their fill, he crossed the creek and rode into the fort. It was a beehive of activity. There were extra horses at the stables. Tents had been pitched on the parade ground, and Indians were camped there. The troops had made it back. It must have been successful, because everyone was laughing and joking in the rough way of soldiers around the world.
He pulled up at the infirmary, tied the horses, and went in. Captain Dixon spotted him immediately and walked over to him. “Looks like you are doing much better,” he said as he grasped Clay by the chin and turned his head first to the left and then to the right. He continued to examine his neck for a few moments longer. Then he asked, “How’s your throat feeling?”
Forty-Four Caliber Justice Page 11
