The Reckoning

by Len Levinson

  The sweating cook sliced off a chunk of meat and dropped it onto Phyllis's plate. Her mouth watered as she collected a mug of lemonade. The dancing had excited an appetite that she could satiate, unlike certain other unfulfilled desires. She sat at a long table, and her male admirers surrounded her, yapping like hound dogs, trying to catch her attention.

  They were decent, hard-working men, and she bore them no ill will, but some were too polite and mild-mannered, while others were oafish though well intentioned. She knew that any one would make an acceptable husband, but who wanted an acceptable husband?

  Her vision turned to the young man in the black hat with silver conchos, sitting against the barn. Am I a superficial ninny, attracted to his pretty face? she wondered. Will I tire of him after a few years? Or is he the man whom God has sent me to love?

  “Mind if I sit down?” asked a female voice above her.

  Phyllis was surprised to see Vanessa Fontaine Dawes, the newlywed herself. “If you can find some room,” Phyllis replied cautiously.

  Vanessa looked at the crowd of young swains sitting around Vanessa. “Gentlemen?”

  Embarrassed and awkward, unaccustomed to forceful women, they moved toward the far end of the table. Vanessa sat with her plate of food and picked at a slice of beef. “I guess you know who I am,” she began.

  “The new schoolmarm,” Phyllis replied. “And I understand that you've been married recently.”

  “As you probably also know, I was scheduled to marry Duane Braddock once. Thank God I didn't, but that doesn't mean that I don't care about him, and don't worry about him. That's why I thought we should have a talk.”

  Phyllis gazed at blue eyes, stark cheekbones, and golden hair. Vanessa seemed superior in sophistication and maturity, but Phyllis was the daughter of Big Al Thornton. “Duane told me that you broke his heart.”

  “I didn't mean to, but I'm much older than he, and my needs are far different from a woman like you. But I'll always love him, in my way. I hope you'll stand by him, because he's not always as strong as he might appear. I loved a man when I was about your age, but he died in the war. I really haven't been right since, and that's why I, a total stranger, am talking to you about intimate matters.”

  Phyllis was completely taken aback by Vanessa's remarks. No one, not even her mother, had ever talked to her that way, but somehow it had the ring of truth. “We'll have to wait a decent interval,” Phyllis explained, “but I don't know if we can last that long. Do you know what I'm talking about?”

  Vanessa, the sophisticated woman of the world, merely asked, “But what's the point of waiting? A lot of things can happen between now and Christmas. If I were you, I'd announce my engagement today.”

  Phyllis was aghast at the suggestion. “But I've only known him for a month!”

  “I knew my present husband a week before I married him, and here we are invited to the finest home in the territory. You'd be surprised how accepting people are, after they get over the initial shock. Personally, I think Duane and you would be a marvelous couple, and your father should consider himself lucky to have such a son-in-law. I advise you to announce your engagement tonight, because, as my husband says, surprise is the most important element of attack.”

  A fiddler and two guitar pickers started a new tune, prompting young men in the vicinity to gather around Phyllis, clamoring for the next dance. But she was gazing across the courtyard at Duane and had the impression that he was looking at her. Phyllis found Vanessa's logic irresistible. “I'm sorry,” she said to the dithering young men, “but I do believe that I've promised the next dance to Duane Braddock.”

  All eyes were on the beautiful rancher's daughter as she crossed the yard. Duane saw her coming, and all he could do was stand, making a thin smile.

  “Care to dance?” she asked.

  “People are going to talk.”

  “I don't care.”

  She headed for the dance ground as he glanced toward the front lawn. Big Al watched him suspiciously, alongside the lady of the ranch, while Vanessa appeared to be smiling, and Lieutenant Dawes was sitting straighter in his chair.

  Duane followed Phyllis toward the dance ground. “What did you talk with Vanessa about?” he asked.

  “You.”

  She took Duane's hand, he held her waist, and they stepped away gracefully. “What did she say?” Duane inquired.

  “She thinks that we ought to announce our engagement today, and I agree, because I don't see the point of waiting any longer. Do you?”

  “No, but. . .”

  She looked into his eyes. “You love me, don't you?”

  “Of course, but...”

  “And you want to marry me, don't you?”

  “Sure, but...”

  She inadvertently on purpose brushed her body against his. “And it's making you a little crazy, isn't it?”

  “That's no lie, but...”

  “Well, we've known each other nearly a month, and a lot of people have got married on much shorter notice, such as your former girlfriend.”

  “Has she put you up to this?” Duane asked.

  “I know what I want, and if you want the same thing, when this dance is over, we'll walk up to my father, and you'll ask for my hand in marriage.”

  Duane sputtered, “You've got to be loco! Why, there's no telling what he might do!”

  “My mother will keep him under control—don't worry about that. What this all boils down to is, do you want to marry me or not?”

  “Whatever happened to Christmas?”

  “That's when we're getting married.”

  “But. . .”

  “I can't wait much longer than that, Duane. If you know what I mean.”

  “I can't wait much longer myself,” he admitted.

  “Well?”

  “What's she like?” Lieutenant Dawes asked his wife as she sipped a cup of lemonade beside him.

  “She's got a lot to learn.”

  “Who could teach her better than you?”

  She glanced at him sharply. “What's that supposed to mean?”

  “You know your way around.”

  “I'm sure there's much that you could teach her, too, but don't get any ideas.”

  “I have eyes only for you, darling. What did you tell her?”

  “Surprise is the most important element of attack.”

  “Is she going to war, or have you been playing Cupid? I must say, this is a side of you that I haven't seen before. Or are you still in love with Duane, and can't get out of his life?”

  She turned to her husband, and her face became demonic in it's barely suppressed rage. “I do think about him, but not in the squalid way that you so crudely suggest.”

  “If Duane were a little older, and had a better situation, you'd probably be married to him instead of me.”

  “I told you that I'm sick of your jealousy. Keep talking about him, and I'll leave you.”

  The newlyweds squabbled like an old married couple that hated each other passionately, while across the yard, Jay Krenshaw sipped whiskey moodily as he watched Duane and Phyllis dance amid swarms of boot-bangers and heel-kickers. Jay was so angry he could scream, but didn't dare misbehave before his father. Holy man, my ass, he muttered darkly. He's just a-tryin’ to git into her bloomers, that all.

  The song ended, dancers applauded, and Phyllis took Duane's hand firmly. “Are you ready?”

  “If your father shoots me,” he replied, “I hope you'll remember me occasionally.”

  “Don't be such a fraidy-cat,” she retorted as she pulled him toward the lawn, where her father sat with Myrtle and Lew Krenshaw. Engulfed by inner turmoil, Duane had a clear perception of impending doom. Big Al would go loco, and reach for his Colt.

  “Stop shaking,” she said. “I thought you were supposed to be a hard case from Titusville.”

  The back of his hand brushed her leg, and he remembered the purpose of his mission. “I'd rather walk to California than ask your father for your hand.” />
  “Don't exaggerate,” she said with a smile, as she led him like a lamb to the slaughterhouse.

  Meanwhile, Big Al watched their approach, his eyes knitted with hostility. He noticed that they were holding hands, and didn't like the look of it.

  “Here come Phyllis and Duane,” Myrtle said. “Don't they look nice together?”

  “No,” replied Big Al.

  His rancor increased as they drew closer, but he knew, deep in his guts, he was defeated before Phyllis opened her mouth. Never had he been able to say no to her, and when she teamed up with his wife, he didn't stand a chance.

  “Daddy,” she said cheerfully as they came to a stop in front of him. “Everybody's having fun, and Duane and I thought it might be a good time to announce our engagement. You see, we thought we'd get married this Christmas.”

  Big Al's complexion became a peculiar green hue. He turned toward Duane, who looked him in the eye, and said, “I love your daughter, and I'm asking for your permission to marry her.”

  Big Al had known that the request would come some day, but not so soon, and not from the Pecos Kid. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. He thought about pulling out his gun, but there were too many witnesses. Before he could find his voice, Myrtle said, “I think that's a marvelous idea! Don't you, Alfred?”

  Big Al didn't know what to say. His throat had constricted to where he could barely swallow. Finally, he was able to force out a series of croaks and squeaks that said, “She's too young, and they scarcely know each other. How's he a-goin’ to support her?”

  “I've got a job,” Duane said, “and if you fire me, I'll find another. As long as I've got a roof over my head, your daughter'll have a roof over her's.”

  “Easy to say,” Big Al replied, his voice growing stronger. “The world can be awful mean.”

  “We could've eloped, but we're trying to do it the right way.”

  Big Al drew himself slowly to his full six feet and four inches. He leaned toward Duane and said, “You elope with my daughter, and I'll shoot yer ass.”

  Before Duane could respond, Phyllis stepped in front of him and said, “You shoot Duane, you'll have to shoot me first!”

  She said it so emphatically that Big Al realized she was in love with Duane Braddock, and there wasn't much he could do about it. But he couldn't give up easily. He searched his brain for a sensible objection, but his wife's arm wrapped around the back of his waist. “Don't be a stubborn old jackass,” she said. “I think Duane would make a fine husband for Phyllis, but if he turns out bad, then you can shoot him.”

  Big Al couldn't help smiling at his wife's remark, because it illustrated his ridiculous behavior. But he couldn't give in too easily. “She's still a child,” he uttered.

  “Maybe you'd better take a good look at your daughter, Mister Thornton. Girls get married even younger, and you know it.”

  “He's a drifter, and he don't have a pot to piss in.”

  “Neither did you when we got married, but we turned out all right. I think that you should say yes, because the next man who comes along might not be as nice as Duane.”

  Big Al had heard stories about other men's daughters running off with drummers, outlaws, and scamps. At least Duane was capable of hard work, according to the ramrod, and he didn't get drunk Saturday nights with the other cowboys. Besides, Christmas was a long way off.

  “Please, Daddy,” she begged. “I'll never be happy unless you give us your permission.”

  Big Al wanted to exert his authority, but not over his darling daughter. He felt backed into a corner, no way out. “Wa'al,” he said gruffly, “if'n that's what you want, I ain't a-gonna stand in yer way. But I ain't happy about it.”

  Myrtle dug her elbow into his brisket. “Stop being such a cow turd, and give them your permission.”

  Big Al looked at Duane and narrowed his eyes. “You ever wrong my daughter, I'll kill you.”

  The magic word roused old Lew Krenshaw from the torpor where he customarily found himself. “Somebody get kilt?” he asked in his crackling voice.

  “Not yet,” replied Big Al, looking straight at Duane. “But maybe soon.”

  Phyllis hugged her father tightly. “Thank you, Daddy. You'll never regret it—I promise.”

  “I guess it's official,” Myrtle replied. “Why don't you make the announcement, darling?”

  “What announcement?” asked Big Al.

  “The announcement of the engagement—what else?”

  “Like hell I will!”

  “Who's a-gittin’ hitched?” asked befuddled Lew Krenshaw.

  Myrtle replied, “Phyllis and Duane.”

  Lew Krenshaw pondered that statement as Myrtle moved in front of Big Al, placed her fists on her hips, and looked into his eyes. “It's your job, as father of the bride, to make the announcement.”

  Duane noticed Big Al's discomfort, and decided to let him off the hook. “He doesn't have to. We'll just tell people ourselves.”

  Big Al realized that he was becoming a fool before his future son-in-law, whom he didn't particularly like. And Christmas was a long way off. “That's all right,” he said grandly. “I'll do it. If my daughter is crazy enough to marry a saddle bum, I'm crazy enough to make the announcement.” He filled his lungs with air, cupped his hands around his mouth, and hollered, “Gather ‘round folks-I wanna say somethin'!”

  His old ramrod voice echoed off buildings and drowned out the music. The fiddler and guitarists stopped playing, and everyone turned toward the front lawn, where Big Al placed one arm around his daughter's shoulders, and the other around Duane. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he roared, “I've got an important announcement. My daughter, Phyllis Jean, has just got herself engaged to Mister Duane Braddock here, and if he don't treat her right, as God is my witness, I'm a-goin’ to shoot him!”

  The guests didn't know whether to laugh, cheer, or run for cover, because it was the strangest wedding announcement that they'd ever heard, but then Myrtle began clapping her hands, followed in a few moments by Vanessa and Lieutenant Dawes. The Bar T cowboys roared their approval, townspeople and other guests whistled and hooted, as Lew Krenshaw stepped forward to congratulate the bride and groom-to-be.

  “I hope yer happy together,” he said, his eyes damp with sentiment.

  The crowd applauded again, but the cowboys from the Circle K were confused, and Jay had turned pale, his real estate dream dashed, while unrequited love rotted his soul. The gall was especially bitter when Lew Krenshaw shook hands with the groom-to-be. I'll bet my own father wishes Duane Braddock was his son, ‘stead of me. If they knew the truth about that little son of a whore, they wouldn't cheer so loud.

  Jay felt as though his head would explode. Nothing he did ever turned out right. Sometimes he thought his cowboys were laughing behind his back, and ranch earnings had plummeted ever since he'd taken over as boss. Something was eluding him, but he didn't quite get it, as though certain strands weren't connecting in his so-called mind.

  Jay believed that he was being cheated, because Braddock wasn't what everybody thought. He saw his father kiss the bride on the cheek, as the townspeople lined up to congratulate the couple. Jay wished that he could receive everyone's good wishes, instead of their contempt and distaste.

  Jay had employees, but not a friend in the world, and could never talk with his father, who appeared not to like him much, even moving into another house so that he didn't have to live with his son. I can't let them do this to me, Jay thought.

  One foot moved in front of the other as he headed toward the newly engaged couple. An inner voice told him to stop, keep his mouth shut, and run away, but he felt as if his head steamed inside his hat.

  Nobody paid attention to him, except the Circle K cowboys. They formed a disorganized mass behind the rancher's son and followed him toward the front lawn, where other guests crowded around the fortunate couple.

  Duane tried to smile meanwhile, shaken to his boots by a friendly slap on the back. He'd awakened
that morning another sleepy face in the bunkhouse, and now was marrying the boss's daughter? His wildest dreams were coming true, and he wanted to fall on his knees and thank God, but men pumped his hand constantly, while women kissed his cheek. The former acolyte didn't know what to make of it, events tumbling too quickly, he felt swept along by the whirlwind.

  The lawn and yard filled with rejoicing as the musicians performed a lighthearted wedding serenade. Cowboys and soldiers whom Duane had never met treated him like a long-lost brother, and he was beginning to enjoy himself, when he saw Vanessa approach in the long line of well-wishers.

  She held out her hand elegantly. “The best of luck to you, Duane. You couldn't've found a finer girl.”

  He couldn't understand how she could be so casual, and it made him realize once more that she'd never really loved him. He wanted to rip her clothes off and feel her long, lissome legs wrapped around him, but it was over forever. He tried to think of a clever rejoinder, but nothing came to mind.

  Next thing he knew, his hand was grasped by the commanding officer himself, Duane's former rival. “Good luck,” said Lieutenant Dawes, a faint smile on his face. “You'll need it.”

  Duane wanted to punch him, but Phyllis squeezed his hand reassuringly, and that brought the Pecos Kid back to reality. Lieutenant Dawes took one step to the left and found himself in front of the newest bride-to-be. He shook her hand and had to admit that she was exquisite in the light of coal oil lamps suspended over their heads.

  “My very best wishes,” he said.

  Phyllis looked at his gleaming brass buttons, gold shoulder boards, and wide-brimmed cavalry hat. “I've met your wife, and I consider you a very fortunate man.”

  Lieutenant Dawes smiled ingratiatingly and was about to say something witty, when he heard footsteps behind him. A crowd of Circle K cowboys were approaching, led by Jay Krenshaw, and the festive atmosphere of the shindig suddenly turned sinister. Lieutenant Dawes stepped out of the way as Jay came to a stop in front of Phyllis. Jay turned down the corners of his mouth and hooked his thumbs in the front pockets of his jeans. “I'd like to congratulate you, ma'am, but don't feel that I can, under the circumstances. You see—I don't think you know who this man is that yer a-marryin’.” Jay turned toward Duane. “Should I tell ‘er, Pecos, or will you?”