Until Darkness Disappears (A Saga of Texas)

by Will Cook

  “Poor Joe,” one man said sadly.

  “Yes,” Early said, looking at Sanders. “But maybe it was a blessing in disguise.”

  “That’s a hell of a thing to say,” a merchant remarked. “A couple of you fellows give me a hand. We’ll carry these Mexicans out and stack ’em in the yard.”

  They left Early and Hinshaw standing on the stairs. Neither exhibited any intention of moving. Early said: “You’re a damned hero now, aren’t you?” He laughed. “Samson slaying the Philistines with the jawbone of an ass. Or rather an ass slaying….”

  “You want to take a fast ride down the stairs?” Hinshaw asked. He grabbed Early by the coat. “Old Joe’s dead, ain’t he? Old Joe who couldn’t read or write, he’s dead and can’t say a word in his defense. What did you do, tip Vargas off and have him come here and kill him?”

  “You’re out of your mind,” Early said, and knocked Hinshaw’s grip loose. Ella opened the bedroom door and peered out. Early rushed to her and folded his arms around her. “My dear, my dear.”

  “Fred, I’m so confused, so lost.”

  “I know. I know.”

  Martin Hinshaw’s expression turned bitter, and he walked slowly down the stairs and went out to stand on the front porch. He saw a Texas Ranger in the yard with a lantern. When the ranger saw Hinshaw, he showed a moment’s surprise, then came to the porch. “I guess the major’ll want to talk to you.”

  “Undoubtedly,” Hinshaw said.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The ranger rattled his keys until he found the right one. He unlocked the cell door and said: “All right, Hinshaw, they want you to testify.” He stood aside as Hinshaw stepped out, then walked with him across the yard to the major’s office.

  The porch was crowded, and the inside waiting room was jammed. The two passed on through and went into Manners’s office that now served as an inquest room.

  Hinshaw was sworn in and took his seat. The judge asked the questions.

  “State your name, please.”

  “Martin Hinshaw.”

  “Are you under arrest, Mister Hinshaw?”

  Manners stood up. “He’s under disciplinary arrest, your honor. Purely a formality until the conclusion of the hearing.” He smiled briefly. “Mister Hinshaw is sometimes difficult to keep track of, and I wanted to assure your honor that he would be present when called.”

  “Thank you, Major.” Judge Everett Calendar stifled a smile. He was a gaunt, gray man well past the meridian of his life, solemn of manner, yet not without a deep stream of humor. “Mister Hinshaw, will you relate the happenings of the night before last for the court?”

  Hinshaw glanced at the people seated, especially at Ella Sanders, then gave a complete account of the gunfight at the Sanders house. When he finished, he thought he would be excused, but Judge Calendar had other notions.

  “Mister Hinshaw, since you were confined to quarters at the time you broke house arrest and went to the Sanders home, you must have had a compelling reason, considering the consequences should you be found out. Will you state those reasons?”

  “I went to warn Joe Sanders and give him a head start on the warrant I was ordered to serve. The deck was stacked against him.”

  “I see,” Calendar said. “Well, that’s a matter for Major Manners to settle. Mister Hinshaw, when the battle started and you exchanged fire with the Mexican bandits, did you understand the purpose of the attack?”

  “No,” Hinshaw said.

  “But the attack broke off as soon as Joe Sanders had been killed?”

  “Yes, sir,” Hinshaw said. “But a lot of people were coming toward the house. The Mexicans had to get out or fight them.”

  “That will be all,” Calendar said.

  Hinshaw stepped down, then asked: “Can I remain?”

  The judge glanced at Carl Manners, who nodded imperceptibly. Hinshaw took the chair next to him, and everyone in the room grew quiet. McCabe and Colonel Gary sat near the far wall, directly in back of Ella Sanders. Fred Early sat on the opposite side of the room, a sad expression on his face.

  Calendar said: “I want it clearly understood that this is not a trial but a preliminary hearing into the manner and cause of death of Joseph Sanders. In view of the written and spoken evidence, I have reached a conclusion. It seems evident that Joseph Sanders was engaged in the illegal sale and transportation of automatic weapons to the Mexican bandits. It also seems reasonable to conclude that due to some misunderstanding, some argument with the bandit leader, Pedro Vargas, he was killed. An indictment would have been in order had Joseph Sanders survived the attack. Since he is dead, and the arms traffic stopped, I direct that the matter be closed. Major Manners, you will so note it in your official report.”

  “That’s not true!” Ella shouted, and Fred Early immediately came forward to silence her.

  “You and your god-damned law!” Hinshaw snapped, turning on Carl Manners. He doubled his fist and knocked Manners backward into the lap of the man sitting behind him.

  One of the nearby rangers grabbed Hinshaw from behind and pinned him while Manners scrambled to his feet. His face was white with anger, and he ripped the badge from Hinshaw’s vest.

  “You’re through as a ranger! Now you’ve got thirty minutes to clear out! Do you understand? Thirty minutes to gather your gear and git!”

  “That suits me just fine,” Hinshaw said. “The whole thing stinks.” He turned and rammed his way clear of the room, walking rapidly back to the barracks. It took him less than thirty minutes to pack what little he owned, check out with the paymaster, pocket his money, and head for town.

  The rest of the day he spent in the saloon, drinking beer, or walking around with his hands in his pockets, looking in the store windows. In the late afternoon he went to Ella Sanders’s house. A stern-faced woman answered the door and told him Miss Sanders didn’t want to see anyone.

  Hinshaw had supper in a small restaurant and played cards in the saloon until after ten. Then he walked down to the river and looked for a good spot under the trees where he could make night camp. For a time he seemed unable to make up his mind, then he selected a grove and found McCabe, Bill Grady, and Carl Manners waiting there.

  They shook hands, and Manners said: “You didn’t have to hit me that hard, damn it.”

  “Didn’t you want it to look good?” Hinshaw asked. “Bill, you got any heifer dust? I’ve run plumb out of smokings.”

  “You’re always out of something,” Grady said, handing over his sack of tobacco. “What’s Early been doing today?”

  “Minding his store,” Hinshaw said. “Do you think he was convinced that I’ve been given the boot?”

  “Yes,” Manners said. “Your being under arrest and a ll . . . then that outburst. Yes, I believe he’s sold. Now you’ve got to sell him, Marty. He’s lost his man, and he’ll need another one, a desperate one. From now on you’ll only be in contact with Grady. Here or across the river.”

  “We’ll work it out,” Grady said.

  McCabe said: “If I’ve got Early pegged right, he’ll let the money greed drive him back in business. This time we want to make sure he doesn’t weasel out of it and put the blame on a dead man.”

  “Nailing his hide to the fence is a personal ambition of mine,” Martin Hinshaw said.

  “Good luck,” Manners said. “We’ll be watching every move you make.”

  “Don’t get so close you shy off the game,” Hinshaw advised.

  They left him then. He spread his blankets, stretched out, watched the stars, and finally, when he thought the time was right, he left his camp and went back into town. An easy cruise along the street found Fred Early. He was playing cards in the saloon.

  Hinshaw used the alleys. With a rock, he broke the padlock off Fred Early’s store. He went inside and fumbled around until he found a hammer and chisel. Methodically he pounded away at the dial on Early’s safe. After he’d left a few deep chisel marks, he put the tools down and went to the front window where he hunk
ered down to watch the saloon across the street. He had quite a wait before he saw Early step out and pause on the porch. Hinshaw struck a match, holding it below the level of the window, but high enough so that Early was attracted by the light. Quickly he whipped out the match and went back to the safe, tapping and chiseling away at the lock. He felt a movement of air as Early eased open the rear door. He managed to be convincingly surprised when Early said: “Don’t move or I’ll blow a hole in your back.”

  Early moved to the lamp and lit it, then stood there, pointing a small .32 at Hinshaw. Early smiled and said: “I never keep more than two hundred dollars in there. Hardly worth the trouble it’s going to cause you.”

  “To a man who’s broke, that’s a lot of money,” Hinshaw replied. He nodded toward the gun. “Going to shoot me?”

  “I guess not,” Early said. “You can get from five to ten years for safe-cracking.” He looked at the badly battered dial. “You don’t even know what you’re doing, Hinshaw. Come on in the office and close the door. And I don’t have to remind you not to put your hand near your gun.”

  “I’m not stupid,” Hinshaw said, and moved ahead of Early. As soon as he was in the office, Early closed the door and locked it. He put a match to the lamp, then went behind his desk and sat down. “I had you pegged as a no-good from the day I first saw you.”

  Hinshaw laughed. “That’s funny, because I had you pegged the same way. Now what?”

  “You didn’t last long in the rangers.”

  “I don’t last long anywhere where the pay is poor and boneheads are always telling me what to do.” He grinned. “Now, you’re no bonehead, Early. You packaged Joe Sanders up nicely and came off smelling like a flower. I kind of thought it would be nice to bust open your safe just to show you that someone could take something away from such a smart man.”

  “But it didn’t work out,” Early pointed out. “You’re still broke, and I’m holding a gun on you.”

  Hinshaw shrugged. “It’s my luck, I guess.”

  “You always work for the wrong people,” Early said. “I could have told you that the rangers wouldn’t do for you. Hinshaw, there’s a wild streak in you. Law enforcement isn’t your kind of business.”

  “What kind is?”

  Early thought for a moment. “You ought to be a trader.”

  “A man’s got to have something to trade before he. . . .”

  “Oh, you have,” Early interrupted. “You’ve got a five-year stretch in the Texas pen to trade.” He laid the .32 aside. “I’ll give you your choice. You can take the five years for breaking into my place and bunging up my safe, or you can take a job that will pay you a lot more than is in my safe.”

  “Do you think you can trust me?” Hinshaw asked.

  “Why not? You like freedom well enough to do as you’re told.” He leaned back in the chair. “No, I wouldn’t trust you, Hinshaw. I don’t trust anyone, but I can handle you.”

  “Like you handled Sanders?”

  “I didn’t have anything to do with him getting killed,” Early said.

  “Then why set him up for the major?”

  “Because Batiste Rameras wanted me to set you and McCabe up for a killing. Murder I want no part of. It was time to get out.”

  Hinshaw frowned. “You’ve told me a lot, Early.”

  “Nothing that I couldn’t take care of. You see, I could pick up this gun and kill you before you could make it through the door. And if you did make it, who would believe you? Especially after that blow-up in the hearing room.” He shook his head. “You’ll have to do this my way, Hinshaw.”

  “All right,” Hinshaw said. “What do I do?”

  “You’ll first straighten up the mess you made when you shot Carlisle. Hinshaw, you’ve caused me no little inconvenience. First Carlisle, then crippling Rameras. He won’t be on his feet for another two weeks.”

  “So soon? I thought I hit him harder than that.”

  Early laughed. “When he’s up and around, I’m going to let you kill him.”

  “I’ll do it free,” Hinshaw said. “What’s at Carlisle’s besides some stuff stored there? Maybe you didn’t know it, but one of Carlisle’s men shot off his mouth to the major.”

  “There’s nothing there but imported hardware,” Early said, smiling. “The other merchandise was moved weeks ago. Carlisle’s place is just right for certain purposes. It’s barren land, and most travelers steer clear of it. There are times when I wish to meet people and not to be seen, so I use Carlisle’s place. I also conduct business there and, now and then, see a demonstration of a certain item offered for sale. It is also used as a stopover and repair station for Sanders’s wagons that I will now take over. You can run the place for me. I’ll pay you a hundred and twenty a month, with more’ when you’ve shown me you’re worth it.”

  “I’d have asked for half of that,” Hinshaw said.

  Early laughed. “I don’t believe in hiring cheap help.” He took out paper and pen. He wrote for a few minutes, then turned the paper around for Hinshaw’s signature. “That states that I caught you in a felonious act and have agreed to employ you as a means of rehabilitation. In the event that fails, I am releasing you to the custody of a peace officer and pressing charges. Now put your name to that or we don’t do business.”

  “You sure know how to cover your bets,” Hinshaw said.

  “That’s the only way to do it. Now sign it.”

  Hinshaw scrawled his name, and Early put the paper away. “There’s one more thing,” he said. “I know you’ve formed an unwarranted attachment to Ella Sanders. At no time do I want you to press yourself on her, or attempt to communicate with her. If she responds to my urging, we’ll be married in two weeks. I wouldn’t want there to be any doubt in her mind that she’s getting the right man.”

  “If it’s part of the job, all right,” Hinshaw said.

  “It is part of the job. If you go to the stable, I’ll see that you get a horse. You can leave for Carlisle’s tonight. And don’t leave there without my permission.”

  “Wouldn’t think of it.” He started to get up, then stopped as Early put his hand on his revolver. “What’s the matter, Mister Early? Are you nervous?”

  “Hiring a new man always entails some risks. Now don’t disappoint me, Hinshaw.”

  “I won’t.” He turned, unlocked the door, and left the store by way of the alley. He went to the river and the grove of trees to get his blankets, and, as he was rolling them, Bill Grady appeared, stopping well back in the shadow of the trees. Grady spoke softly. “Don’t turn your head, squirt. If you can hear me, whistle softly.”

  Hinshaw did, then stopped. “I’ve got a job. Good pay but lousy business.”

  “I’ll tell the major.”

  “I’m on my way to Carlisle’s,” Hinshaw said.

  “I’ll see you there.”

  “Be careful,” Hinshaw warned. “He’ll be watching me or having it done.” He put his bedroll over his shoulder and walked back to town. It was a comfort to him to know that Bill Grady would always be close by.

  When he reached the stable, he found Early there and a saddled horse. “Now and then you’ll have guests at Carlisle’s,” Early said. “Be polite. Take care of them. And keep your damned nose out of their business.”

  “That won’t be hard,” Hinshaw said, mounting up. Before he turned out he asked: “When does my pay start?”

  “It’s started,” Early said, and gave the horse a slap.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Bill Grady volunteered to take a buggy and drive Rhea and Alice Cardeen into town to meet the eastbound train. Colonel Gary and Guthrie McCabe were halfway to General Hildago’s headquarters, so Grady did the job as a favor to Gary, and because he wanted to.

  Their tickets were already bought so there was nothing to do but wait on the hard benches and grope for things to say. Grady smoked a cigar and kept watching the clock. Finally he said: “It’s best, I suppose. The colonel must have a nice home. You’ll like i
t.”

  “Yes,” Rhea said. “But I’ve never been underfoot in someone else’s house.” She turned her head and looked at Grady. “Why did he do it? Because he and his wife felt sorry for us?”

  He thought a minute, then shook his head. “I don’t think Colonel Gary wanted you to be alone. He and his wife ain’t offering you a place to stay, Rhea. He’s offering you a home. That’s more than I could offer, I guess.”

  “What do you mean, Bill?”

  He shrugged. “I’m older than you. Maybe too old.” He laughed softly. “Not much to look at, either. But I’d be good to you, Rhea. And Alice… she could live with us. I guess you think I’m a hard drinker, but I really ain’t. I wouldn’t drink at all except that it gets so blamed lonely at times. I’ve got eight hundred dollars in the bank at Corpus Christi, and half interest in a fishing boat. This job don’t mean so much to me that I wouldn’t give it up and go back to Corpus Christi.”

  This was the longest speech Bill Grady had ever made to a woman, and Rhea knew it. “Do you love me, Bill?”

  “I guess I do,” he said. “Maybe you don’t believe I do on such short acquaintance, but it’s a fact. I don’t want to see you go away, Rhea.”

  She studied her folded hands a while. “It would be better if I did for a while. In the fall, maybe I’ll come back.” She didn’t look at him when she spoke. “If I have a baby, you won’t know it, Bill, because I’ll come back alone. It’s got to be that way.”

  “It don’t have to be,” he said. “Hell, it ain’t as though you’d. . . .” He let it drop. “Write to me, and I’ll write to you. I don’t write good, but I’ll write anyhow.”

  The station agent came over. “Train’s due in, folks. Sorry about your family, girls.” He went back to his duties. Grady gathered their grips and took them to the cinder platform.

  At the edge of town, three blasts indicated the approach to the grade crossing. Rhea said: “A shack is better than a mansion, Bill, when a woman ain’t underfoot.”

  “You’ll have a house,” he said. “As soon as this is over, I’m getting out and going to Corpus Christi. Everything will be dandy when you come back.”