Hickory Jack (Ben Blue Book 1)

by Lou Bradshaw

  Between chuckles, he said, “It ain’t really funny, but it struck me funny that you got the makins of a real colorful name. Red Blue. Your middle name ain’t White’n is it?” and then he just split open with, “Red White’n Blue!” That Murdock was a funny man – I didn’t get it, but Andy did.

  I told him that I didn’t really know if I had a middle name because no one had ever mentioned it, but Whiten sounded like a nice one since it made him and Andy so happy. That started them going again.

  There wasn’t any sense in me hanging around in there just adding fuel to the fire, so I picked up that fella’s hat and the water bucket and went outside. The prisoner was leaning against the hitch rail with his face in his hands crying. Hunkering down on my heels in front of him I said, “Here, Mister.” several times holding out a dipper of water. But he wouldn’t look up or even act like he heard me. I finally grabbed a handful of hair and yanked his head up, then I tossed that dipper full right in his face. His eyes flew open and he had a look of complete shock on his face. I clomped his hat on his head and held out another dipper of water. He looked at it for a second not seeming to know what it was and finally took it and drank from it. I gave him another. I was sure that Andy hadn’t thought to give him any water on the ride into town. Andy wasn’t mean, he just didn’t think about things like that.

  He took off his kerchief and wiped his face. I said, “Mister, you got to get a-hold of yourself. You can’t be out here cryin in public. These folks walkin by are the same ones that are gonna sit on your jury. They don’t respect anything but strength. They just got disgust for a blubberin baby. And keep that hat on – you’ll burn to a crisp out here in this sun.” He just stared at me like he didn’t hear me.

  “Is there anyone you want to write to or get in touch with?” I asked. He shook his head. He was a young fella maybe twenty or twenty-one, and he had a city look about him. “Now, Marshal Murdock is a fair man. If you don’t cause him any trouble, he’ll let you stay inside out of the sun. But you keep up that wailin and you’ll sit out here.” It was like I was speaking a foreign language for all the response I got. I just gave him another dipper of water and took the bucket inside.

  As I walked back through the door I heard Murdock say, “The judge will be here in about two weeks. You’ll have to testify at the trial.” Andy said he would and we left. I had to go back to work, but Andy went on to one of the saloons.

  On the way back to the stable, I was stopped by several people with questions. And I heard a few comments like. “That old Hickory Jack ain’t none to fool with.”… “Hickory Jack just acts. He don’t think about it.”… and “I sure wouldn’t want to drag iron with him.” Andy was getting a reputation. It was a reputation I wouldn’t want, but I didn’t think Andy minded it.

  I worked through the rest of the day in a daze. I couldn’t seem to get my thoughts organized. I kept seeing the dead man with much of his chest and neck mangled and clotted. The face of the prisoner would pop into my mind. His eyes were haunted and his face showing so much pain. Andy and me were so young, but we had been on our own for over two years now. He was just barely seventeen and I wouldn’t be fifteen for a couple of months yet.

  After supper, Andy went to the saloon, he was getting a lot of attention and he kind of liked it. I walked down to the village to have a talk with Father Paul.

  Chapter 12

  The padre had heard about the robbery and half expected to see me walking through the scrub brush taking my usual shortcut. When I got to his adobe behind the church, I could see him sitting at his little table with a jug of wine and two cups in front of him. I knocked on the open door and he said, “Ah, Benito, I am happy that you came to see me this evening.”

  “I just felt the need to talk a little, Padre. And I couldn’t think of anyone that I’d rather talk to.” He bid me to sit and pushed a cup of wine in front of me.

  “I think a little sacramental wine will do you good this day, and I don’t think the Lord will mind… It sometimes has a way of taking away our worries.” Then he smiled and said, “But all things in moderation, my son.”

  There was no place to start but the beginning, so I blurted out, “Padre, I have killed two men, and I was responsible for a third man’s death. I don’t want to kill anymore.”

  He seemed to be taken aback by my blunt statement, but he soon recovered and said, “Tell me about it, Benito, tell me everything from the very beginning.”

  As he refilled my cup, I told him about that day back home. I told him about the pitchfork, and I told about pressing the gun to that outlaw’s chest and pulling the trigger. Next, I told about how I had kept the preacher from getting away, and how he was hung for his other crimes. I told him we were searching for the rest of that gang of killers, and the trail was what had brought us to this place.

  He sat without saying anything for a few minutes and then he asked. “Benito, how old are you?” I told him, and he snapped his eyes up to my face. “I knew you were young, but I did not think you were that young. You have seen and done too much for one of your age, although, I think you have been justified in what you have had to do. I believe it would be best if you would give up this search and let God deal with those men.”

  “There ain’t a thing in the world I would rather do than just walk away from the whole mess,” I said, “but I made Andy a promise to stick with him to the end.” I told him how his family had taken me in when I was just a very young boy, and how we had been raised as brothers. I also told him I thought Andy liked the attention he was getting.

  “Can you not bring these men to the law, and let the courts punish them?” He asked, “Is that possible? Try to be the voice of reason in your brother’s ear. Be his conscience. He will thank you for it in years to come, when the fire of vengeance has cooled. If you feel you must ride with him, do all you can to prevent him from committing murder.” He thought for a minute and then said, “But you must not leave yourself open to needless danger. Protect yourself – kill if there is no other way.”

  “I came from a wealthy family in Santa Fe,” he went on, “and the dangers of the frontier were kept outside our strong walls. Then I went away to the seminary with strong thick walls, but I have spent a lifetime since among the poor with no walls around us. I know there is no safety for anyone here until there is law and justice. Only then can we feel safe. In the meantime, we must protect ourselves, as best our consciences will permit.”

  We talked until it was well past sundown. He asked me to come for Sunday mass, and I said I would. “It will be mostly in Latin, and the sermon in Spanish, but I think you will not be sorry you came.” he said.

  Some weeks earlier Emilio had badgered me to get, one of the wide brimmed sombreros to replace the ragged little felt hat I’d had for years. Father Paul had said that people of my fairness and rojo (red) colored hair must have extra protection from the sun. So, I reluctantly started wearing what Andy called my Poncho hat. I didn’t mind Andy’s kidding because I could tell the difference when wearing that monstrous thing – it was much cooler under there.

  As I left the parsonage, I had that sombrero on its thong hanging on my back. There was just enough starlight to see my way through the scrub, and I held my course by the lights from town. I wasn’t more than a hundred yards into the darkness when I heard a rustling noise and, “Oh, Gringo!” behind me and felt something hit me across the back. I staggered forward but didn’t fall, which probably saved me. My attacker had expected me to go down, and he was in the motion of jumping where I should have been. The slight rustling noise and his big mouth had caused me to turn in time and miss the full force of the club or whatever it was.

  The man was off balance and hit the ground beside me. I was on him hammering away for all I was worth, and I was worth plenty. I thanked those horseshoes, I thanked the hammer and anvil, I thanked Bob, and I thanked God that this fool felt the need to insult me before clobbering me. I kept hitting until he was limp. Then I got up and left him in
the dirt as I walked away toward town. I knew who he was.

  The following morning when I looked at that sombrero, I could see why Julio hadn’t hurt me much with that club. The stiff straw crown was crushed almost flat – it had taken the brunt of the blow. I pushed it back into shape as best I could and plopped it on my head. Andy was still asleep when I left him.

  I figured he needed a little extra sleep, so instead of rattling around making breakfast I went to the eating-house. Murdock was just finishing up when I came in. He motioned me over and I sat across from him at a small table. He called for more coffee and I gave the girl my order. As I ate, he filled me in on the highwaymen. It seems they were out of Philadelphia. It was just as he had thought a couple of city boys who had read too many dime novels. They had come by ship to Houston, then to points west and northwest by train and finally stage to Amarillo, where they bought horses and set out on their illfated adventure.

  Since the attempted robbery happened outside Murdock’s jurisdiction, he was sending the prisoner and the headaches to the county sheriff in Pampa. There would be a deputy here to pick him up in a couple of days. “Until he gets here that boy can stay inside unless he starts bawlin again that is.” Murdock was one tough nut.

  All that day I thought about what the padre had said. I made up my mind to do all I could bring those men in alive if I could. I wanted them caught and if they needed hanging, they should be hung. If it came to a shootout then it was dog-eat-dog, but I would prevent out and out murder if I could.

  True to my word, Sunday morning found me at the church in the village, and true to Father Paul’s word, I didn’t understand a bit, of what was going on. There was standing, sitting, kneeling, and more standing, but there wasn’t any yelling, arm waving, or play-acting. I figured it was a nice way to spend a Sunday morning, but it wasn’t something that would catch on.

  Emilio asked me what had happened to my sombrero, and I asked him what had happened to Julio’s face. He thought about it for a short bit and said, “Julio said he got drunk and fell from his horse. Do you think that is wrong?”

  I pushed my sombrero back off my head so that it hung at my back. Then I told him about the attack. “I think Julio tried to ride more horse that he could handle.” I told him. As I looked across the crowd coming from the church, I could see Julio giving me a black stare from the open cantina door. There was a lot of purple on that swollen mess.

  Emilio laughed, and said, “I think you are right. I think he will not try to ride the rojo pony again.”

  Andy and I took our horses out for a little exercise that afternoon, and it was good to get out of town for a little while. I liked that little town well enough, but I wasn’t a town boy I was a country boy. I missed trees most of all. There just weren’t any of good size to be seen unless you were near the river, and all the good ones close by had been cut long ago. There were plenty of rocks, sage, and other brush, which had their own charm, but they weren’t the same as trees. I think I was homesick.

  The next morning Andy and his freight wagon were off again for three days of supplying this part of Texas with the goods it needed. I was settled in to mucking stalls and general maintenance to keep the place looking good and operating smoothly. About midmorning, Bob came back from the post office waving a letter in my face. He was grinning like a fool and sniffing the envelope. “Oo!” he said, “It sure smells pretty. Must be from a real pretty gal I betcha.” I grabbed the envelope, but couldn’t keep myself from sniffing it – he roared.

  Embarrassed, I said, “It just smells like your big old dirty paw.” He laughed again. “You’re right though, it’s from a mighty pretty gal, and she’s got a big old husband and a little bitty girl baby to keep her busy.”

  I couldn’t wait to get it open and start reading. It was full of news of the baby and things going on around the area. Her pa was doing well as were she and Tim. She said that the reward money from Ft. Smith had been deposited into our accounts. She also said that the sheriff had told her pa that some additional reward money had come in on those first two outlaws, which was in the bank as well. Imagine that.

  Bob packed up some tools and horseshoes in the back of his wagon and started out for an outlying ranch to shoe a bunch of newly broke horses. He said he’d be gone until sometime the next day. It wasn’t a problem for me to find enough to keep busy, so I told him that I’d take care of stuff and not to worry. He had been doing that sort of thing lately since some of the ranches were having a fall round up and needed extra saddle stock. Rousting cattle out of the breaks, gullies, and canyons can wear out horses pretty quickly.

  Most of the rest of the morning was spent composing a letter in my head to update the folks as to where we were and what we were doing. I didn’t plan on telling them about the holdup or the killing of the would-be robber. It didn’t seem reasonable to worry Elizabeth. Nor was I planning to tell them about all the attention Andy was getting as someone who was almighty handy with guns.

  Along about mid afternoon, a rider came in needing to stable his horse. I had been in the middle of making a hinge, and I was up to my eyeballs with concentration on it. I went through the motions of taking the horse from him and listening to its needs. I was leading the animal into the barn to unsaddle it when he called out, “Hey boy, who belongs to that long legged sorrel?”

  I came out and followed his line of sight, and he was looking at my horse. “That one’s mine.” I told him, assessing my horse, thinking he might want to by it.

  “That right? Where’d you get him?” he asked, “I think that horse used to belong to a friend of mine.”

  Remembering the story Andy and I had concocted I said, “Bought him at a sheriff’s auction back in Missouri. We was passin through and I needed a horse bad. Got a good deal on him.”

  He shoved back his hat, turned to me and said, “Hmph, well I’ll be damned.”

  I looked up into broad dark the face of Dan Coleman – one eyebrow, big mustache, and ugly.

  Chapter 13

  I’m sure my heart stopped because everything else did. There was nothing in my mind – not a single thought. I couldn’t move or speak for a few seconds and then I said something like, “Uh huh.” He must have thought I was a complete moron. At that moment I was. Then my mind started to race with options.

  My first thought was to hop on my horse and ride after Andy, but Bob was gone and I couldn’t leave the place wide open like that. Bob had been too good a boss to let him down that way.

  Coleman didn’t even seem to notice. He just mumbled something about getting the dust out of his throat and walked away. I figured he was going to one of the saloons and then maybe to visit that poor gal in the cribs. Anyway, he had paid to board his horse for the night, so he’d be here till morning. I’d work out something before then.

  An hour later Murdock came by to tell me that Coleman was back in town and that I was to leave him alone at least until Andy got back. He said, “Boy, that’s one tough hombre, and you ain’t up to the task. Guns – knives – fists – and broken bottles are his meat, so you just back off. I’m not even sure your partner can take him, although, he’s about as quick as I’ve ever seen, Coleman’s type just ain’t gonna give a fair fight.”

  I was nervous for Andy. He wasn’t a gunfighter he was just a kid who was handy with a gun, and had come out on top by sheer luck and instinct. That I’d be siding him with my shotgun was a given, and if Frazier showed up before we had a showdown, then I’d surely be in the middle of it. The strangest thing about it was that I wasn’t scared. I thought I would be and I should be, but I was ready to get on with it. I had a couple of days to change my mind.

  Bob came back the next afternoon as promised, and he was worn out from the work and the time on that wagon seat. He went right to the house, and I didn’t see him again until the next morning. I filled him in on what had happened at the stable and the smithy, which was plenty of work done in both. I was so keyed up that I had to keep busy. He was so pleased that
he told me to finish out the morning and take the afternoon off. “Get some rest,” he said, “you look all frazzled.”

  I moseyed around town that afternoon trying to kill some time, but I was as restless as a caged cougar. I poked my head in the saloon, but didn’t see Coleman anywhere. I walked on down to The Other Saloon, that’s what they called it, “The Other Saloon.” And, there he was playing cards with some other gents. I was just backing away from the door when someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned to see Murdock glaring at me.

  “Red, I thought I told you to leave that fella be. Soon as my back is turned, here you are snoopin around after him.”

  “I know, sir,” I said, “I was checkin on him to make sure he was still in town.”

  “How did he get to town? On a horse. So, how do you figure he’ll leave town? Probably on that same horse, don’t you suppose?” That Murdock sure had a way with sarcasm. “He’s been playing poker all night and all morning except for about a two hour break. He’s about even, there’s a bunch that have come and gone, and a big winner. That winner can’t quit because your boy won’t let him. What he’ll have to do is make it worth Smith’s while with a couple of hundred dollars. Otherwise, Smith will call him for a cheat and shoot him. He did it over in Mobeetie last year. The cardsharp knows the set up. He’ll either go along or take his chances. Ain’t a thing I can do about it.”

  “You mean you know it’s happening and you can’t stop it?” I was almost stuttering. It was unbelievable.

  “If I could catch that fella cheatin’ I could arrest him. I ain’t that good, but he’s real good. Anyway, they’ll work out the rules here directly and probably play for a couple more hours ‘til Smith is satisfied. Then they’ll both sleep ‘til tomorrow afternoon. Don’t worry, Smith ain’t even been to the cribs yet. That’ll take care of another day and a half.”