Brutal Night of the Mountain Man

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Brutal Night of the Mountain Man Page 23

by William W. Johnstone


  These taxes, once they are fully implemented, cannot help but have a most deleterious effect on the economy of our fair community.

  Blanton stroked his chin. Was “draconian” the correct word? Yes, he was sure of it. But would all his readers understand it?

  He reached for the word to remove it, then had second thoughts. He smiled. Let them learn a new word.

  Suddenly there was the crashing sound of glass being broken in his front window, and looking around in fright, he saw a brick lying on the floor. There was a note tied to the brick, but before he picked it up, he stuck his head out the front door and looked around in an attempt to see who had done this.

  He saw nobody.

  Stepping back inside, he removed the note.

  We are watching you.

  “This is all it says?” Willis asked after reading the note that Blanton had brought to him. “Just, ‘we are watching you’?”

  “Yes.”

  “Nobody said anything to you?”

  “No. I didn’t even see anyone,” Blanton said. “I was about ready to start my print run when the brick crashed through the window.”

  “If you didn’t speak to anyone, or even see anyone, how do you expect me to help you?”

  “I don’t know, but you’re the marshal. Who should I ask to look into it for me? The doctor?”

  Failing to catch the sarcasm, Willis handed the note back to the editor of the Standard.

  “There’s nothing I can do. I don’t even know why you came to me.”

  “Neither do I,” Blanton said, and again Willis missed the sarcasm.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  It was just before noon, and business was slow in the Pretty Girl and Happy Cowboy Saloon, with only one man standing at the bar and nursing a beer. Peterson was behind the bar, polishing glasses, not because they needed it, but because he was wont to stand there and do nothing. None of the girls were working yet, and the only other people in the saloon at the moment were Cal, Rusty, and Kate, who were sharing a table.

  “It was bad enough when Atwood had Witherspoon and Calhoun to run roughshod over us, but now he’s got an entire army to do his bidding for him.”

  “Well, to be fair, Mom, Deputy Calhoun wasn’t all that bad.”

  “I know but he had his hands tied so that, even when he wasn’t drunk, which was most of the time, there wasn’t much he could do for us.”

  “These taxes may turn out to be a good thing, though,” Cal said.

  “What?” Kate asked, surprised by the remark. “What do you mean? How could anything good come from these taxes?”

  “It might be just the thing needed for the town to fight back,” Cal said.

  Kate nodded. “Yes,” she said. “You might be right.”

  “Say, Rusty, what do you say we go down to the Palace Café and have a good lunch?” Cal suggested. He glanced across the table at Kate. “Of course, that invitation includes you as well, Miz Kate.”

  Kate smiled. “No, I’d just be a fifth wheel, I’m afraid. You two go on, have a good meal, and enjoy yourselves. And tell Sue Ellen I send my regards, will you?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Rusty said.

  * * *

  “There are four ranchers who haven’t given in to Atwood,” Rusty said. “Jim Barnes, Burt Rowe, Bill Lewis, and Tom Allen. I don’t know how much longer they’re going to be able to hold him off, though.”

  “Smoke and Pearlie are out talking to them now,” Cal said. “I think once they know they have someone like Smoke on their side, that’ll give them all the resolve they need.”

  “I’ve never met anyone like Mr. Jensen,” Rusty said.

  Cal smiled. “That’s because there isn’t anyone like Smoke Jensen.”

  The two were just finishing their lunch at the Palace Café when Sue Ellen came over to the table to visit with them.

  “We made apple pie today, boys,” Sue Ellen said. “Would you like a piece?”

  “I’ll say!” Cal replied. “With a piece of cheese on top, if you don’t mind.”

  “Cheese, on apple pie?” Rusty said.

  “You mean you’ve never tried it?”

  “No.”

  “Miss Sue Ellen, put a slice of cheese on his pie as well,” Cal said.

  “What if I don’t like it?” Rusty asked.

  “Don’t worry. If you don’t like it, it won’t go to waste. I’ll just eat it for you,” Cal offered.

  Sue Ellen laughed. “Careful, Rusty, it may be that he’s just setting you up so he can eat your pie, as well as his own.”

  “Ha! That won’t happen,” Rusty said.

  A few minutes later the pie was delivered, and from the beginning, there was no question but that Rusty would eat it. He did so with relish, complimenting Cal on the suggestion and swearing that from now on, he would eat every piece of apple pie in just such a way.

  They had just finished their pie when two of Willis’s deputies came into the restaurant. Sue Ellen started toward them.

  “Deputies Creech and Walker, can I help you gentlemen?”

  “We’ve come to collect the tax,” Creech said.

  “Tax? What do you mean you are here to collect the tax? All my taxes are paid.”

  “We’re talking about the new tax.”

  “A new tax? What is the tax for?”

  “It’s the Law Enforcement Capitalization tax,” one of the deputies said. “You see, the town has added more lawmen for the protection of the citizens, ’n we’re havin’ to raise taxes to pay for it. Are you sayin’ you ain’t even heard of the new taxes?”

  “Well, yes, I had heard that the taxes would be increased, but I assumed that would be from an addition to the sales and business taxes. I had no idea anyone would be coming around to ask for a direct payment. How much is this new tax?”

  “It’s ten dollars a week.”

  “Ten dollars a week?” Sue Ellen gasped in shock. “Why, that is insane! That would more than double the taxes I already pay. There is no way my restaurant can make enough to pay that kind of money!”

  “Are you saying you aren’t going to pay the taxes?” one of them asked gruffly.

  “It’s not so much that I won’t pay them, as it is I can’t pay them,” Sue Ellen replied.

  “You’ll either pay the tax, or you’re going to jail,” the deputy said, reaching out to grab her.

  “Let me go!”

  “Let her go,” Cal said.

  “You stay out of this, cowboy. This woman is in debt, and what I do to her ain’t none of your concern.”

  “You can’t put someone in prison for debt.”

  “Who says I can’t?”

  “The Constitution says you can’t. It’s against the law.”

  “You know about the Constitution, do you?”

  “I know enough to know that you can’t put someone into prison for debt,” Cal said. “Miz Sally taught me that.”

  “Yeah? Well, all I know is that Judge Boykin sent us to collect the money, or put her in jail, one or the other, and that’s what I intend to do.”

  “Which one are you? Creech, or Walker?”

  “Creech, but that would be Deputy Creech to you, cowboy. Who are you?”

  “The name is Wood. Cal Wood.”

  “You’re one of them that come with Smoke Jensen, ain’t you?”

  “Yes, I work for Smoke Jensen, and I consider him a good friend.”

  “You folks have caused nothin’ but trouble ever since you got here,” Creech said.

  “Deputy Creech, I believe you said that you have come for ten dollars?” Cal said. He took a ten-dollar bill from his wallet and held it up. “Well, here it is.”

  “It don’t do no good for you to pay it. It’s got to come from her,” Creech said.

  “It will be coming from her. Miss Sue Ellen, this is for the dinner my friend and I just had.”

  “Wait a minute, you’re givin’ her ten dollars? I know damn well there ain’t no meal served in here that cost that much,”
Creech said.

  “It was a very good meal, wasn’t it, Rusty?” Cal asked.

  “It was a very good meal. Especially the pie,” Rusty answered. “Miss Sue Ellen, here’s my ten dollars as well.”

  “I don’t know what’s goin’ on here, but I don’t like it,” Creech said.

  “It doesn’t matter whether you like it or not,” Cal replied. “You came here to collect a tax, didn’t you? Well, here it is.”

  Sue Ellen came over to retrieve the money from Cal and Rusty, forming a silent “thank you” with her lips.

  “Now, give these men their ten dollars, Miss Sue Ellen, so they can be on their way.”

  Sue Ellen walked back to where the two deputies were standing, and she held out a ten-dollar bill toward Creech.

  “Here is your blood money,” she said.

  Creech started to reach for the money with his right hand, but he lowered his right hand and held his left out toward Sue Ellen. It was that gesture, using his left hand, and lowering his right hand so that it hovered just over his pistol, that put Cal on the alert. Suddenly, Creech gave Sue Ellen a shove, as his right hand dipped down to his side to draw his pistol.

  Creech had a broad smile on his face, thinking he had put one over on Cal, but that smile left when he saw that Cal had beaten him to the draw. Both pistols fired at the same time, but Cal’s bullet found its mark. Creech’s didn’t.

  Creech collapsed to the floor, took a couple of gasping breaths, then died. Cal swung his pistol toward Walker.

  “Hold it! Hold it!” Walker shouted, stretching his empty hands out toward Cal. “I ain’t goin’ for my gun!”

  The shooting had happened so fast that none of the diners had had time to react. There were nine others in the restaurant, and they had been watching all the talk about the taxes, but when the shooting started, all were still sitting at their tables, shocked at the sudden turn of events.

  “You . . . you’re goin’ to go to jail! You shot a deputy!” Walker said, pointing at Cal.

  “Creech drew first, Walker, and you know it,” one of the diners said.

  “We all know it,” another added.

  “You wait till Willis hears about this. You’ll be goin’ to jail, ’n that’s for sure,” Walker said.

  “Go get ’im. I’ll wait here,” Cal said.

  “We’ll all wait here,” a third diner said.

  Walker left at a dead run.

  “Oh!” Sue Ellen said, putting her hand to her mouth. “This is all my fault!”

  “Nonsense,” Cal said. “They came in here to demand a tax . . . a tax which you paid, regardless of whether it was fair or not. Anyway, I’m the one who killed him, so I’m the one at fault.”

  “You aren’t at fault, young man,” one of the other diners said. “Everyone in here saw what happened.”

  “Yeah,” another said. “Creech drew on you and he didn’t leave you any choice.”

  At that moment Walker returned with Marshal Willis.

  “He’s the one, Marshal,” Walker said, pointing to Cal. “He shot Creech down while Creech warn’t doin’ nothin’ no more’n collectin’ the tax like we was told to do.”

  “You’re under arrest for murder!” Willis said to Cal.

  “It wasn’t murder, it was self-defense. He drew on me,” Cal replied.

  “He’s telling the truth, Marshal,” Sue Ellen said. “I was in the process of paying the tax when Mr. Creech shoved me, rather violently I might add, to one side and drew his pistol. This gentleman,” she pointed to Cal, “was forced to defend himself.”

  “That’s right, Marshal,” another said. “Everything this man and Miss Sue Ellen told you is the gospel truth.”

  “Yeah? We’ll just see about that,” Willis said. He moved his hand toward his pistol, but stopped when he saw how quickly Cal had drawn his own gun.

  “You know what, Marshal? I would feel a lot more comfortable if you and your deputy would just use two fingers on the butt of your pistols, take them from the holsters, and lay them on the table there.”

  “Look here, you can’t take our guns!” Willis said angrily.

  “I don’t intend to keep them,” Cal replied. “Just leave them on the table there. In a few minutes, after we’re gone, you can send one of your deputies in to pick them up.”

  * * *

  “Yes, I got a visit as well,” Kate said when Cal and Rusty returned to the Pretty Girl and Happy Cowboy to tell what happened. “Deputy Clark has just informed me that we are to add a fifty percent tax to every drink we sell, plus a twenty-dollar per week business tax.”

  “Twenty dollars a week? We can’t afford that, can we, Mom?” Rusty asked.

  “Not for very long,” Kate said. “I paid him this time, but I won’t be able to keep those payments up, especially as the fifty percent sales tax is going to wind up driving business away.”

  “What about the Bull and Heifer?” Rusty asked.

  Kate nodded. “Yes, I spoke with Bull Blackwell, he has been hit with the same taxes. So have all the other businesses in town, from Buckner-Ragsdale Emporium to White’s Apothecary.”

  “It’s just another way of Atwood trying to take over our place, isn’t it?” Rusty asked.

  “Yes, but he won’t get it. I’ll burn the place to the ground before I let him have it.”

  * * *

  “What do we do now, Marshal?” Clark asked after he retrieved the pistols Willis and Walker had been forced to leave at the Palace Café. “We can’t just let that feller walk free, can we? He killed Creech.”

  “We goin’ to tell Atwood ’bout this?” Walker asked.

  “We’re goin’ to have to tell him,” Willis replied. “There’s no way we can avoid it.”

  “He ain’t goin’ to like it. He ain’t goin’ to like it none a-tall. Especially since we ain’t made no arrest,” Clark said.

  “There wasn’t no way I coulda arrested him. He got the drop on us when I wasn’t expectin’ it,” Willis said.

  “I think right now he’s over at the Pretty Girl most by hisself,” Clark said. “We could go get ’im, all of us. There ain’t no way he could do anythin’ against all of us, against just one of him.”

  “Yeah,” Willis said. “Yeah, you’re right. And this time, we’ll make sure we have the law on our side. I’ll get us a warrant from the judge.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  “Didn’t you just say that there were nine witnesses in the restaurant at the time of the shooting who would testify that Creech drew first?” Judge Boykin asked when Willis told him he wanted a warrant.

  “Yeah, but what does that matter? You can just keep ’em from testifyin’, like you did when Rusty was tried for killin’ Jeb Calley.”

  “If we do that, Judge Turner will simply free him just as he did Rusty Abernathy. And I could wind up being removed from the bench. What good would I be, either to Atwood or you, if I’m no longer the judge?”

  “What good are you now, if you say I can’t arrest someone for shootin’ one of my deputies?” Willis asked.

  “Next time one of your deputies decides to try and kill someone, tell them to make certain they don’t do it in front of a lot of witnesses.”

  “It just don’t seem right,” Willis said.

  “If I were you, I would tell my deputies to continue to collect taxes from the businessmen, and cause as little trouble as you can.”

  “Atwood ain’t goin’ to like it,” Willis said.

  * * *

  Smoke, Sally, and Cal were having breakfast in the hotel dining room the next morning, discussing the run-in Cal and Rusty had had with the two deputies the day before.

  “I hope it doesn’t wind up causing even more trouble for Miz Kate,” he said.

  “How could it cause any more trouble than my killing Atwood’s man Pardeen, or Critchlow, or Conroy?” Smoke replied.

  “Or Warren or Reed, who also rode for Atwood,” Sally added.

  “Yes, Creech is just one more.”

&n
bsp; Sally chuckled. “It may be that Atwood will be defeated by attrition. He can’t have that many more men who are willing to die for him, can he?”

  “Well, he still has the marshal and all his deputies,” Smoke said. “That is, the ones that are left,” he added, smiling across the table toward Cal. “And Slim Pollard says he has at least ten more of what he calls his special cadre out at the ranch. And if that’s so, that means that attrition has taken out less than half of them.”

  “Oh, there’s Kate,” Sally said with a broad smile.

  “And Mayor Cravens,” Cal added.

  “May we join you?” Kate asked as they approached.

  “Of course,” Smoke replied as he stood. Cal stood as well.

  “Smoke, Sally, I brought Mayor Cravens to talk to you this morning, because he may need some help in the special election he is planning.”

  “You’re planning to recall the city council?” Sally asked.

  Mayor Cravens shook his head. “Unfortunately, we don’t have the right of recall in Texas. But we can override the city council to repeal these new taxes they’ve put on the town. We can repeal them by veto referendum.”

  “By what?” Smoke asked.

  “Veto referendum,” Mayor Cravens repeated. “Our state constitution allows the citizens to call an election and vote on laws and ordinances passed by the state legislature, the county board of commissioners, or, and this is what pertains to us, city councils. The people can either vote to initiate a new law, or vote to repeal a law that’s already on the books. In that case it would be called a veto referendum, and that’s what we are going to do.”

  “Oh, that sounds wonderful!” Sally said.

  “I just wished that women had the right to vote so I could vote for it,” Kate said.

  “Even if we can’t vote for it, we can work for it,” Sally said.

  “Oh, I intend to do that,” Kate said. “I plan to go around to see as many people as I can, to tell them of the election.”

  “Or you could have them come see you,” Sally suggested with a smile.

  “What do you mean?”

 

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