Kinsman of the Gun

by Walton Young

  ‘I’ll get far enough.’

  ‘You’re wrong. You’ll bleed to death.’

  ‘If I’m going to die, I might as well take you with me.’

  A gunshot dropped him to his knees. Surprise lit up his eyes. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth. After the second gunshot, he collapsed and lay in the middle of the street. In the shadows of an overhang the girl stood, a Remington revolver in the firm grip of both hands. Meta Anderson stepped toward Rayburn.

  ‘John, you can rest easy now. Rayburn won’t kill nobody else. John, I’ve done what you wanted me to do.’

  Ezra reached down and picked up his pistol and walked past Rayburn and took the Remington revolver from Meta. Her eyes, dazed and moist, still focused on the man at her feet.

  ‘I had to do it,’ she said. ‘I had to. It’s what John wanted.’

  Suddenly a buggy thundered down the street and stopped. Doc Grierson, despite a sore, stiff back, walked quickly. In one hand he carried his black bag.

  ‘Well, damnation. I’m gone for a couple of days to set a broken leg and treat the whooping cough and various and assorted other ailments, and while I’m gone, the town goes to hell. Luke, get this old man to my office before he bleeds to death.’

  ‘Who you calling an old man, you old geezer?’ Owen said.

  ‘Sounds like he hasn’t lost too much blood. I can’t say that about these other men.’

  Once on his feet Owen became faint and almost fell.

  ‘I’ve got you,’ Luke said. ‘Just lean on me.’

  Marcus went to the steps leading onto the sidewalk and sat, the shotgun in his lap. In the street lay gunmen, hired guns. He had heard stories about the great battles of the war – Shiloh, Antietam, Chickamauga, Gettysburg. He had heard stories about the awful killing. He had heard stories about the awful positions of dead bodies. He had heard stories not about the glory, but about the grotesque.

  ‘Be thankful, boy, you didn’t see it,’ men told him, men who had been on the fields of death.

  Now I’ve seen, he thought. Now I’ve been a part of it.

  He stared at Treutlin.

  ‘Why did you make me do it? Why?’

  Ginevra was a statue in the middle of the street. She sat and cradled Andrew. Jennifer went to her and put her arm around her shoulder. The front of the mother’s dress was red. She looked up at Ezra.

  ‘They’ve killed my baby, Ezra. They’ve killed him.’

  Doc Grierson lifted Andrew’s wrist and checked for a pulse.

  ‘Ma’am, he’s not dead but he will be if we don’t get to work.’

  She held him tightly, as if she had not heard what he said.

  ‘Gin, let me have him,’ Ezra said.

  She released her son and Ezra lifted him and carried him to Doc Grierson’s office. The doctor and Jennifer followed. Swearingen was on his knees, blood on the side of his head.

  ‘Richard, are you satisfied?’ she asked.

  When Ezra lifted Andrew, Swearingen stared at his son’s blood-streaked face. He realized Andrew was just a boy.

  One by one the few shopkeepers that had remained in town came onto the sidewalks. They examined the broken shards of glass and ran their fingers over the bullet-splintered wood in the side of buildings. They stared at the bodies. They stepped into the street to get a closer look and then returned to their shops. They would write about this day to their friends and families still living back East. We thought this kind of thing was behind us, they would write. It was like a war, a battle, and we wonder if the war is just beginning.

  Slade hurried from the funeral parlor. He walked beside Owen and Luke.

  ‘Don’t look at me, you damn buzzard,’ Owen said. ‘I ain’t dead.’

  Stuart stood near the hitching post near Truetlin.

  ‘I never thought I would kill a man,’ Marcus said, and he wanted to fling the shotgun away. ‘I begged him to put his gun down. Zeke, did you hear what I said to him? I begged him.’

  ‘I heard. You did all you could do.’

  ‘You didn’t get hit, did you?’

  ‘No. And I don’t think I hit anyone. Ezra did most of the shooting before I even got my revolver out. Did you see how fast he was? He’s as fast as I’ve heard, even faster. I never thought anyone could be that fast.’

  Stuart noticed Meta. She still stood over Rayburn, and he left Marcus and approached her.

  ‘You’re Meta Anderson,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, Sheriff. Are you going to lock me up?’

  ‘No. But I am going to take you home.’

  ‘I know the way.’

  ‘You shouldn’t travel this late by yourself. I’m taking you. There ain’t going to be any argument.’

  They walked to the livery. Smitty waited.

  ‘Sheriff, I sure am proud of you.’

  ‘Thanks, Smitty. I wish I could say I’m proud of myself.’

  Ezra, Andrew’s bloody body in his arms, hurried past Eloise and Lawrence Byrd, who stood outside the newspaper office. He did not see them.

  ‘Lawrence, take a good look at Ezra McPherson,’ Eloise said. ‘He’s the last of a breed. I don’t think we’ll see his kind ever again.’

  Chapter Seventeen

  Ginevra tucked the feather pillow behind Andrew’s head. He smiled and looked at the passengers on the depot platform. They were ready to climb the metal steps of the Union Pacific passenger car bound for the East. Peter laid his hand on his brother’s shoulder.

  ‘You take care of yourself in New York,’ Peter said.

  ‘I don’t think I’ll be doing much of anything for a while. It’s funny how things work out, isn’t it?’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘I’m the one who’s returning to New York. You’re the one who’s staying here in Cheyenne.’

  Andrew’s face was pale. He coughed and closed his eyes.

  ‘You just rest easy,’ Peter said.

  ‘I’m going to be on the platform for a few minutes,’ Ginevra said. ‘Do you need anything?’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘I’ll be right back. Don’t leave without me.’

  ‘Don’t worry.’

  Ginevra and Peter moved past passengers seeking seats and stepped onto the platform. She must be expecting Father to come, Peter thought. I doubt there’s much chance of that happening.

  ‘Are you sure it’s safe for him to travel?’ he asked.

  ‘Doc Grierson assured me it is. One thing is for certain – Judge Henry wants him to travel. Peter, I’m concerned about you and Anne on the ranch. Are you sure you want to stay?’

  ‘We’ll be fine. I’ll find a good foreman.’

  ‘I hope he’s nothing like Rayburn. Peter, I don’t know where your father is. I haven’t seen him since the – since your brother was shot. I’m sure he’s still in Wyoming. You see, his ranch is his kingdom. I don’t think he’s ready to abdicate his throne. One of these days you’ll look out a window and see him coming. If he makes life difficult for you, come to New York.’

  ‘Anne wants to stay here. She says Cheyenne is home.’

  ‘Anne is a good girl. You’re lucky.’

  Ezra came around the corner and walked down the platform and removed his wide-brimmed black hat.

  ‘Mrs Swearingen.’

  ‘Mr McPherson.’

  Ezra reached out and shook Peter’s hand.

  ‘I’ve heard you and your wife are staying here,’ Ezra said.

  ‘Yes, sir. I guess it sounds a bit crazy since I don’t know anything about ranching.’

  ‘You’ll learn. A good foreman will help.’

  ‘I was just telling Mother—’

  The whistle blew and the locomotive hissed and steam rushed onto the far end of the platform. Ginevra kissed her son on the cheek.

  ‘Goodbye, Mother. Take care.’

  ‘You, too.’

  Peter left the platform and disappeared around the corner of the depot.

  ‘I was wondering if you would come
to bid me a farewell.’

  ‘I wish you would stay,’ Ezra said.

  ‘I can’t. You heard what Judge Henry said.’

  ‘Yes.’

  Judge Henry was elderly. His appearance was that of a gentleman, from his neatly pressed dark blue suit to his thick white beard. Ezra sat next to Ginevra in the small courtroom. They were behind the table where Andrew and his attorney, Darrell Fitzsimmons, sat. To find an attorney, Ginevra had sought Ezra’s help. A Virginian, Fitzsimmons had practised in Cheyenne many years.

  ‘I knew John Tisdale,’ Fitzsimmons told Ezra. ‘I considered him a friend.’

  The courtroom was hot. The Darton mother held young Jody Darton’s hand and led him to the chair next to Judge Henry. Jody wore clean overalls that were thin in the knees. The dust had been cleaned off the shoes that were too big for him. The boy sat and glanced at the judge and then at the spectators, mostly homesteaders, who huddled at the back of the courtroom. Ezra could tell that Jody was scared.

  ‘May I stand here with my son?’ Mrs Darton asked.

  ‘Yes, ma’am. Jody, there’s nothing to be afraid of. This is not a formal trial. Nothing like that. Jody, this is what we call a hearing. The purpose is to see if we need to have a trial. I’m just going to ask you a question or two. Just pretend you and me are on a river bank fishing and talking. Do you like to fish, son?’

  ‘Yes, sir. For catfish.’

  ‘Well, me too. Nothing like fried catfish. So that’s what we’re pretending to do. We’re fishing for catfish and I’m just asking a question or two. All right, let’s get started. Do you see anyone at the table in front of you that you’ve seen before?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Will you point him out?’

  Jody pointed at Andrew.

  ‘When did you see him?’

  ‘The day Cliff was hanged.’

  ‘Was he in favor of hanging your brother?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘He told the others my brother didn’t look like a cattle rustler. And my brother wasn’t a cattle rustler. He never rustled no cattle.’

  ‘Yes, son, I understand.’

  ‘He wanted my brother to have a chance to talk, but the others wouldn’t listen. Then they hanged him.’

  Jody bowed his head. He had promised himself that he would be a big boy and not cry. He had told his ma and pa that he would not cry. But suddenly he saw his brother swinging at the end of a rope, his feet kicking violently. And the tears came. Once they came, he could not stop them. His mother stood next to the chair and pulled him toward her.

  ‘You’ve done real good, Jody,’ the judge said. ‘Mrs Darton, you may take him back to your chairs. Andrew Swearingen, please stand. I think your willingness to accept the blame for what happened to Cliff Darton is admirable. It’s courageous. You did what you could to stop the lynching. You can’t be held responsible. I don’t see that it’s going to do anybody any good to bind you over for trial. So I’m going to release you from jail. I want you to leave Cheyenne just as soon as Doc Grierson says it’s all right for you to travel. I’m not going to say you can never return. But I will say you need to stay away for a good long while.’

  ‘What kind of justice is this?’ Jody’s father asked, and he stepped toward the judge. ‘Andrew Swearingen deserves what my son got!’

  Ezra remembered the first time he saw the father. It was right after the lynching. He was thin and pale. He did not look at all healthy. In the courtroom his voice was surprisingly strong.

  ‘Sir, that will be enough,’ Judge Henry said, and the gavel came down hard on the oak table.

  ‘This ain’t no justice! How much money did Swearingen pay you?’

  ‘If you don’t shut your mouth, I’m going to hold you in contempt.’

  ‘There’s going to be war. The Swearingens will pay for what they did to my boy!’

  Darton turned and he and his wife and Jody left the courtroom. The other homesteaders just stood and stared at the judge. Then they too filed through the door.

  Again the locomotive hissed. Ginevra took Ezra’s hand.

  ‘I know you talked to the judge,’ she said.

  ‘What makes you think that?’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘I just asked him if he’d like a box of cigars at Christmas.’

  She grinned and squeezed his hand.

  ‘It’s good to see you smile, Gin. It’s something I haven’t seen in a long time. When we were young, I always thought you had the most beautiful smile.’

  ‘When we were young, we had so much to smile about. Ezra, you could come to New York.’

  ‘Me in New York?’

  ‘On second thought, you’d better stay.’

  Again she smiled, but the smile quickly left.

  ‘Before I go, I’ll tell you what I told Peter. I feel certain Richard is still here in Wyoming. He has tried to build an empire, and he’s not going to walk away from it. There’s something I didn’t tell Peter, though I suspect he knows. Richard is a violent, vindictive man. He will not take responsibility for anything that has happened. He will try to kill you, Ezra.’

  The conductor approached and called, ‘All aboard!’

  ‘I’ve been told that Rayburn was going to kill Curly Pike,’ she said. ‘Andrew stepped in front of Curly to protect him.’

  ‘He did.’

  ‘That says something about my son.’

  ‘Yes, it does.’

  ‘When you think of me,’ she said, ‘will you remember love beneath a cottonwood tree, on a hilltop overlooking the Medicine Bow River, with dry-weather lightning off in the distant sky?’

  ‘I will remember.’

  He took her into his arms and felt the warmth of her body. He kissed her and in that moment he wanted to board the train with her and leave Cheyenne. Then his arms released her and she climbed the steps and went inside the car and sat at the window next to Andrew. The locomotive lurched forward. It moved away from the depot, into the burning sunlight, ready to cross the plains, ready to cross the heartland of America. He stood on the platform and watched the train grow smaller. The smokestack left a long trail of black smoke that hovered over the tracks and then vanished. He wondered if he would ever see her again. Probably not, he thought. He put his hat on and left the platform and walked down the street.

  He came to the spot where the bodies had lain, where their blood had darkened the dust. For a moment he stopped. All about him shoppers walked the sidewalks. Men on horseback and men in buckboards rode up and down the street. They were going about their business as if the gunfight had never taken place.

  Benjamin Payne stepped out of his store and raised his hand.

  ‘Good morning, Deputy McPherson.’

  Ezra nodded and headed toward the jail. Another man called to him. Lansing approached.

  ‘What can I do for you?’ Ezra asked.

  ‘You’ve already done plenty. The name’s Lansing. I own one of the cattle spreads. What you did here was quite an accomplishment.’

  ‘It’s over.’

  ‘Do you actually think putting Andrew Swearingen on the eastbound will appease the homesteaders? They were looking for justice. Do you think they got what they were looking for?’

  ‘The judge made his decision. Everybody has to abide by it, including the homesteaders. What’s your point?’

  ‘You said it’s over. No, Deputy McPherson, it’s not over. It’s only beginning. I’m sure we’ll meet again. Have a good day.’

  Eloise walked along the sidewalk. Lansing went past her. Probably on his way to the gentlemen’s club, she thought. A club for those who slither. In her hand she carried a pencil and small tablet.

  ‘Good morning, Miss Endicott,’ Ezra said.

  ‘Beware of Lansing,’ she said. ‘He’s the kind of man who likes nothing more than to stir up trouble.’

  ‘I appreciate the advice. You know, the first time I saw you you carried a pencil and tablet.’
>
  ‘I’m always on the lookout for news.’

  ‘Do you expect to find any today?’

  ‘I’m going to interview Mayor Payne. I want to know his plans for Cheyenne.’

  ‘I’m sure he has them. You know, I detect a bit of coolness in the wind. It’s coming out of the northwest.’

  ‘I detect it too. Ezra, the deputy’s star looks good on you. I believe you feel right at home here in Cheyenne.’

  ‘At least for the time being.’

  ‘I suppose you bade farewell to Mrs Swearingen.’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘That was thoughtful.’

  ‘I’m a thoughtful person.’

  ‘I’m sure you don’t want to hear this – Ginevra Swearingen is no good for you, Ezra. You deserve better. Since you don’t seem to know, I thought I would do my civic duty and make you aware.’

  ‘I’m surprised a lady would say something like that.’

  ‘The world is changing, Ezra McPherson. Haven’t you noticed? These days ladies say all kinds of things, some of which you men may not want to hear.’

  ‘I don’t suppose you know of someone who is good enough for me.’

  ‘Perhaps I do. And she has money. She doesn’t have to marry to get it. Just remember what I’ve said.’

  ‘I’ll keep it in mind.’

  Twilight fell slowly on the outskirts of Cheyenne, and Owen sat in the dark brown oak rocking chair on the Taylors’ front porch. His left arm rested in a sling. He rocked back and forth and his shoulder ached, but he had been shot before. The pain would pass. Of course, it would let him know when rain was approaching. He looked at the red sky in the west. No chance of rain. But at least it was a bit cooler. The unmerciful heat was showing some pity.

  ‘The wind definitely has a bit of chill,’ Owen said. ‘Before we know it, fall will be knocking on the door.’

  Ezra sat on the top step and smoked a cigarette. Luke and Jennifer were in the porch swing. Her small feet did not touch the floor. Silas and Charlotte sat in straight chairs.

  ‘Charlotte, it was kind of you and Silas to take an old coot like me in to recuperate,’ Owen said. ‘I’m pretty much on the mend. I’ll be out of your way in a day or two.’