Blood Ties: A Texas Ranger Will Kirkpatrick Novel

by James J. Griffin

  “So what’re you sayin’, Will?” Pettengill asked. “You just want to let the kid go?”

  “Not at all,” Will answered. “What I’d like to do is stay here in Pecos until Jonas’s trial is held. However, as soon as the Western Union office opens tomorrow morning, I’ll have to send a telegram to Austin, letting Headquarters know this case is solved, and asking where they want me to head next. I’m certain they won’t allow me to hang around here very long, not with so many outlaws still on the loose, all over Texas.

  “So, Amos, this is where you come in. I’m going to write a deposition for the court tonight, explaining all the circumstances surrounding the robbery, the part Jonas took in it, and how he helped me when he could just as easily have put a couple of slugs in my belly, and hightailed it for Mexico or the Indian Territories. I’ll be askin’ the judge to grant Jonas clemency, or at least leniency, since he was influenced by his older cousins, who really didn’t leave him much choice; he admitted his mistake and wants to make up for it, and that he saved my life when he could just as easily have let his cousin kill me, or killed me himself.

  “I’m goin’ to leave that with you to present to the judge when Jonas comes to trial. I’d like to ask you to make certain the judge receives the deposition, and explain to him for me how strongly I believe that Huntsville isn’t the place for the boy. I’d hope the judge would give him probation, or at the most a short prison sentence that he can serve right here in Reeves County.”

  Pettengill sucked on the ends of his moustache before answering, then gave Will a slight smile.

  “I’d be happy to do that for you, but it won’t be necessary. The circuit judge arrived in town earlier this afternoon. He’ll be holdin’ court in session for the next three or four days, dependin’ on how fast he clears the cases waitin’ for him. You can talk to him yourself, first thing in the mornin’, before court starts. I’ll introduce you to him.”

  “What kind of judge is he?” Will asked.

  “Ambrose Huttwelker? He’s tough, but fair. His family came over here from Germany when he was just a kid, from what I understand. He’s gruff, like a lotta Germans, but not a bad hombre at all. He’ll listen to you, I can promise you that. Which is more than I can say for a lot of judges, I might add.”

  “Well, if I can speak to him myself, things might go better for Jonas. I’m obliged, Amos.”

  “No problem. I’d hate to see a kid who has a chance to turn his life around sent to Huntsville. He’d come out a hardened criminal.”

  “If he came out at all,” Hardy added. “A place like Huntsville is real hard on a kid. Like as not he’d get killed by another prisoner, or end up hangin’ himself in his cell. Jonas seems like a decent sort. He was real polite when I brought him his supper. He’d never make it in Huntsville.”

  The three men finished the rest of their meal in silence. Will drained the last of his coffee, then pushed back from the table.

  “Where you headed now, Will?” Pettengill asked.

  “I’m gonna check and see if the barber shop’s still open,” Will answered. “If it is, I’m gonna get myself a long overdue shave, haircut, and bath. Then I’ll get a room at the hotel across the street for the night.”

  “That sounds good to me, Ranger,” Hardy said. “Wish I could, but I’m on duty all night. The Pecos marshal’s short a man, so he asked me to cover the town tonight. Mebbe I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Mebbe,” Will answered. “You be careful.”

  “Always am, plus I’ve been a lawman in these parts for years. I know most of the troublemakers, and can usually spot any newcomers who might try’n stir things up.”

  “I’m gonna call it a night soon as my other deputy shows up,” Pettengill said. “Will, be here at eight, if that’s not too early. We can have breakfast, then I’ll take you to meet Judge Huttwelker.”

  “I dunno if I’ll be able to eat breakfast,” Will answered. “This steak is sittin’ in my gut like a hunk of granite. Sure hope it doesn’t block things up.”

  “I have to admit, Sally’s cookin’ll do that to a man who ain’t used to it,” Pettengill said. He shook his head. “Either that, or it’ll go through him like corn through a goose. I hope you’re not too sick to meet the judge come mornin’.”

  “I’ll be there, sick or not,” Will answered. “I’ve just gotta stop by the telegraph office and get my wire off to Austin first, then I’ll see you right here. Buenos noches.”

  “G’night. See you in the mornin’,” Pettengill said.

  “I’ll walk with you as far as the barber shop,” Hardy offered. “Mose should still be open. If he’s closin’ up, I’ll talk him into takin’ one last customer.”

  “I’d appreciate that,” Will said.

  “Good. Sheriff, I’ll see you tomorrow evenin’,” Hardy said.

  “G’night, Mike. See you then.”

  ****

  The barber was working on his final customer for the day when Will walked in. “Have a seat,” he invited, “I was just gonna close up after Mister Adams here, but I’ve always got time for one more patron.”

  “I’m obliged,” Will said. He took off his hat, hung it from a peg, then settled in the nearest chair. “Does that include time for a bath, too?”

  “Even if it didn’t, the way you look and smell, I’d make time,” the barber answered, grinning to take the sting out of his words. “Pardon my sayin’ so, but you sure need one. My name’s Moses… Moses Hanson. But everyone in town just calls me Mose. And this here’s Quincy Adams. He's the president of our bank.”

  “No offense taken, Mose,” Will answered, with a smile of his own and a nod to the two men. “I reckon I am lookin’ a mite rough. Been on the trail for several weeks, now. Texas Ranger Will Kirkpatrick.”

  “Texas Ranger, huh?” Adams said. “You have business in Pecos?”

  “Yeah, but I’ll only be in town for a day or two,” Will answered. “I caught up with a trio of stage robbers some miles out of town. I brought them in…well, one of ’em, anyway. He’s in a cell at the county jail right now. The other two are already at the undertaker’s, I’d hazard.”

  “Probably good riddance,” Adams said.

  “The two dead ones, yeah,” Will agreed. “I’m not so sure about the third one. He’s just a kid, and it seems his kin forced him to help them. We’ll have to see what the judge says.”

  “You’re all finished, Mr. Adams,” Mose said, as he pulled off the cloth covering the banker. “I’ll see you in a week.”

  “As always,” Adams said. He paid the barber, nodded to Will, then stepped out into the gathering darkness.

  “I’m ready for you, Ranger,” Mose said. Will settled in the barber chair, then pulled out his gun and set it in his lap before Mose put the cloth over him.

  “I guess you can’t be too careful when you’re a lawman,” Mose said.

  “That’s right,” Will answered. He settled back while Mose adjusted the hair, stropped his razor, then built up a fresh mug of lather.

  “Just relax,” he told Will, when he took the first stroke. He began a running line of talk.

  It turned out Mose was a freed slave, who had drifted west from Louisiana after the war. He told Will he’d been taught to read by one of the house servants, and learned the barbering trade from another slave on the same cotton plantation. He, like most barbers, was an interesting conversationalist and pleasant company.

  By the time Will had been barbered, shaved, and bathed, he felt like a new man. He left Mose fully relaxed. Once he had checked on Pete for the night, then collapsed onto his bed at the hotel, he fell instantly asleep. Between the long days on the trail and the cleanup at Mose’s shop, he would sleep the night through.

  4

  The next morning, Will checked on Pete, then went to the Western Union office. He had to wait almost thirty minutes for the telegrapher to arrive. Once he did, Will composed a message for Headquarters, and watched the telegrapher send it, waiting for confirmat
ion that the telegram had indeed gone off. Once that was done, he returned to the sheriff’s office. Amos Pettengill was waiting for him, along with another man.

  Pettengill glanced at the Regulator clock ticking away on the wall behind his desk.

  “There you are, Will. I was hoping you’d be on time, and you’re not too far off,” he said. “You don’t still have a bellyache from Miss Sally’s cookin’, do you? Because I just sent Mike over to her place for ham, eggs, and fried spuds. Grab yourself a cup of coffee, in the meantime.”

  Will headed for the stove, took a tin mug from the shelf next to it, and poured himself a cup of the thick, black brew.

  “Nah, my belly survived, but I do figure takin’ a bullet in the gut probably’d hurt less than eatin’ another of her steaks,” Will answered. “As far as bein’ late, I apologize. I had to get my wire off to Austin, and I had to wait for the clerk at the Western Union office to open. I was there early, but he showed up late, fifteen minutes after he was supposed to be there. Soon as I made certain he sent the wire, I hustled right over.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Pettengill said, with a wave of his hand. “We still have plenty of time before court opens. I’d like you to meet Judge Ambrose Huttwelker. Judge, Ranger Will Kirkpatrick.”

  “I’m pleased to meet you, Judge Huttwelker,” Will said, as he and the judge shook hands.

  “I might say the same, Ranger,” Huttwelker answered. He was a big, burly man, with thick burnsides that ended in muttonchop whiskers. His hair and beard were salt and pepper gray. Behind the spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose, he had piercing blue eyes. “Sheriff Pettengill, here, tells me you’d like to speak to me about the prisoner you brought in yesterday.”

  “That’s correct, Judge.”

  “The sheriff has already explained to me a little about the situation. If you could just fill me in a bit more while we wait for our meal to arrive.”

  “I took the liberty to give Judge Huttwelker some of the basics about your prisoner, Will,” Pettengill said. “I hope I didn’t get out of line.”

  “I hope not, but I’m sure whatever you told him won’t really make a difference,” Will answered. “Let’s hear what he has to say, then I’ll know. Judge…”

  “Ranger Kirkpatrick, I understand, from what Sheriff Pettengill told me, you apprehended three stage coach robbers. Two of them resisted arrest, and were subsequently killed by yourself. The third, a young man, surrendered without incident. Am I correct so far?”

  “You are, Judge,” Will answered.

  “Furthermore, I also understand you wish to have the young man granted leniency. Is that true?”

  “Yes. You see, not only didn’t he resist arrest, he saved my life, when one of his pardners jumped me, and managed to get my gun. Jonas stopped him, and nearly got killed himself. After that, he could have gunned me down, but he didn’t. He gave me back my weapon, told me that he was through bein’ an outlaw, and was goin’ to plead guilty and face his punishment.”

  “Hold it right there,” Huttwelker said. “You’ve given me enough so I have a general idea of what happened, and why you believe the young man should be granted leniency. It’s my opinion the rest of your statement should wait until the preliminary hearing, so it will be entered into the record as official testimony. I’ll hold off my thoughts until then. Do you understand?”

  “I do. And I’d prefer it that way,” Will answered. “I’d rather wait and bring the details out in court.”

  “Then we’re in agreement,” Huttwelker said.

  “Just in time, too,” Pettengill said, as Mike Hardy walked through the door, carrying a red-checked cloth covered tray. “Here’s Mike with our breakfast.”

  ****

  While breakfast wasn’t quite as awful as supper had been, the eggs were runny, the ham and potatoes greasy. Luckily, Sheriff Pettengill brewed an excellent cup of coffee, one of the best Will had ever tasted. Still, his stomach was queasy as he took his place in the courtroom. Will was grateful Judge Huttwelker had moved Jonas’s case to first on the docket, because he had a feeling before too long he’d have to make a very fast dash for the outhouse.

  Courts and trials here on the Texas frontier were far more informal proceedings than back East, or even in the larger cities of the West Coast. When Judge Huttwelker entered the small courtroom, the spectators stood. He merely indicated they should sit down with a wave of his hand.

  Deputy Hardy was standing by the bench, as the sole bailiff. With opportunities for entertainment in small towns like Pecos—even though it was the Reeves County seat—being limited, when court was in session the room was usually packed to overflowing. Today was no exception.

  “Court’s in session. You all know my name, Judge Ambrose Huttwelker. You also know I’ll tolerate no outbursts or disturbances in my courtroom.” He slammed down his gavel on the desk, then picked up a file.

  “The first case is the State of Texas versus Jonas Peterson. This is just a preliminary hearing. Is the defendant present?”

  “I am, Your Honor.” Jonas’s voice shook as he answered.

  “Please take the witness chair.”

  “Yes, sir, Your Honor.” Jonas, his head bowed, shuffled to the witness stand.

  “Bailiff, please swear in the witness.”

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  Mike Hardy held out a Bible. “Place your hand on the book, son.”

  Jonas complied.

  “Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”

  “I do.”

  “Please be seated,” Huttwelker ordered. “Do you have an attorney?” he continued, once Jonas was in the witness chair.

  “No, Your Honor.”

  “You are aware, son, that you have the right to an adequate defense. This court will appoint an attorney to represent you, if you cannot afford one, or find one who will take your case.”

  “I am, Your Honor. But I don’t need one. I’m guilty, and admit I helped take part in the robbery I’m accused of.”

  “I see,” Huttwelker said. “Does that mean you are waiving your right to a trial by a jury of your peers?”

  “If that means I don’t want to sit through one, yeah,” Jonas said. “I mean, yes, Your Honor.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “Then this will be a trial, rather than a preliminary hearing. Please state your name for the record.”

  “Jonas Daley Peterson.”

  “Mr. Peterson, since you intend to plead guilty as charged, do you wish to make a statement, before I pronounce sentence?”

  “Yes, Your Honor. I just want to say that I wish I’d never gotten involved in this robbery. I’d like to apologize for takin’ part in it. If the folks who were on that stagecoach were here, I’d apologize to them, too. I know it’s not an excuse, but I let my cousins talk me into helpin’ ’em rob the stage. I never should’ve listened to ’em, no matter how much they pleaded with me, or threatened me if I didn’t go along. Now they’re both dead, and I’m goin’ to prison. I’m ready to take what’s comin’ to me, and once I get out, I’m gonna find me an honest job.”

  “I see,” Huttwelker said. “I have a question for you, Mr. Peterson. You stated your cousins threatened you, if you refused to take part in their scheme? Let me remind you that you are under oath.”

  “Yes, Your Honor. They told me, since I knew what they were planning, that if I didn’t go along, they’d have to kill me, to make certain I didn’t go to the law and turn ’em in.”

  “Well, that’s certainly a mitigating circumstance,” Huttwelker noted. “Do you have anything else you wish to say?”

  “No, Your Honor.”

  “Very well. You may step down. Remember that you remain under oath until the conclusion of this hearing.”

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  Jonas left the witness chair and returned to his seat.

  “The court now calls Tex
as Ranger William Kirkpatrick to the stand,” Huttwelker said. “Please approach the bench, Ranger Kirkpatrick.”

  Will pushed himself to his feet and walked to the witness stand.

  “Bailiff, swear in the witness,” Huttwelker ordered.

  “Yes, Your Honor.” Hardy held out the Bible. “Ranger, place your hand on the book.”

  Will did so.

  “Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”

  “I do.”

  “Please be seated.”

  “For the record, state your name and occupation,” Huttwelker said.

  “Texas Ranger William Kirkpatrick, ordinarily attached to Company C, Frontier Battalion, but currently assigned at large to Texas Ranger Headquarters in Austin.”

  “You were the arresting officer in the case before this court?”

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “Briefly, tell the court the circumstances of this arrest.”

  “Of course. Eleven days ago, I received a report that the San Angelo stage was held up, forty miles south of here. I rode to the site of the holdup, found the tracks of three horses, apparently the outlaws’, and took on their trail. I finally caught up to ’em the day before yesterday. I ordered them to surrender. One of ’em, who I found later to be a Wylie Peterson, went for his gun. I had to plug him. The other two men gave up without resistance.”

  Jonas looked up at Will, startled. For his part, Will hoped no one in the courtroom, particularly Judge Huttwelker, noticed Jonas’s look of surprise.

  “Please continue, Ranger,” Huttwelker said, when Will hesitated.

  “Since it was late in the day, with dusk coming quickly, I chose to camp for the night, and start for Pecos in the mornin’. I secured the two surviving men, Jonas Peterson, who is the man on trial here, and Kyle Peterson. As Jonas has already testified, Wylie and Kyle were his cousins. After making supper for myself and my prisoners, I secured them for the night, then got some much needed rest.”

  “What happened the next morning?”

  “I’m comin’ to that, Your Honor. After making a quick breakfast, I prepared to transport my prisoners to Pecos for incarceration in the Reeves County jail to await trial. Unfortunately, while I was gettin’ Kyle Peterson on his horse, he managed to get the jump on me. He got his hands on my gun, and was goin’ to shoot me down, when Jonas interfered. He told Kyle not to kill me. Kyle then threatened to shoot both of us.