Sudden Dead or Alive

by Frederick H. Christian

  ‘It don’t ring true, but it’s possible,’ Severn said. ‘Anyways, we can soon find out.’

  ‘Yu mind lettin’ us in on the secret?’ Main inquired.

  ‘We’re goin’ to make a few plans about how to defend the town in case of attack,’ Severn announced, a cold grin on his face. ‘An’ we’re goin’ to let everyone in on ‘em! Ray, yu get on over to Shearer’s an’ ask him to get all the men into Diego’s cantina tomorrow mawnin’. Rick, I want yu to hunt up Turnbull an’ his crew. I got some special instructions for them.’

  ‘Damn me to Hellanbeyond if this ain’t like workin’ for the goddamn Pinkertons!’ grumbled old Ray. ‘I’m a feller as likes his fightin’ straightforward an’ in the open.’

  ‘Don’t yu fret none, Ray,’ Severn reassured him. ‘I’m thinkin’ yu’ll get yore share soon enough!’

  And so saying, he got up and went out of the jail, leaving Poynton looking at Rick Main, and Main returning the old man’s puzzled glare.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Diego’s canteen was crowded, smoky, and noisy when Severn and his two companions pushed in through the batwing doors and made their way towards the bar. Looking around, Severn thought he could see every face he knew; even some of the men’s wives were there, sitting in a group around some tables near the wall to one side. Jenny Winn, now fully recovered from the ordeal of the previous night, lifted a hand in greeting. Her eyes were warm and friendly, and Severn pushed through the crowd towards her.

  ‘Jenny,’ he said gravely. ‘No need of yore bein’ here.’

  ‘Oh, Don,’ she said, softly. ‘Do you think I would miss hearing this? Why, everyone in this town is agog to know what you’re going to say! We have waited years — you can’t know what it means to these people to realize that at last someone is going to show them how to fight!’

  ‘Come on over by the bar with me,’ he invited her. ‘Yu got the right: if it warn’t for yu, I wouldn’t be doin’ much talkin’ at all!’

  For a moment her eyes blazed with anger.

  ‘That — treacherous dog!’ she hissed. ‘He would have killed you without a qualm!’

  ‘That’s why I’m thankin’ yu again, Jenny. If it hadn’t been for yu, I’d’ve been hard put to look cheerful.’

  ‘Oh, Don,’ she said, half angry, half smiling. ‘Will you always joke about such things? That — that man was going to kill you!’

  ‘Well, he didn’t,’ Severn told her, ‘so let’s forget it, an’ get to the business here.’

  He pushed back towards the bar, where Shearer was banging one of Diego’s wooden mallets on the top of a table to get the attention of the crowd.

  ‘Quiet, thar!’ Shearer was yelling. ‘Quiet, now! Severn here’s got somethin’ for yu all to hear - somethin’ we’ve all been waitin’ for!’

  A cheer rose from the throats of those grouped around the cantina, and Severn surveyed them swiftly before speaking. Of the whole crowd, perhaps only a dozen were white men. All the rest were Mexicans, family men mostly; farmers, smallholders, men who worked from sunup to sundown on their small landholdings, men who ran stores, saddlers, men who raised horses, men who owned a few cattle, poor men who toiled honestly for small rewards, if you did not count the reward of happiness. Fighting men? No, there were not too many of those. The fighting men he could count on his fingers. These would be the real nucleus of his fighting force. That his plan was one for defense and not attack was to be regretted, but it could be turned to real advantage with just a little luck.

  ‘Gents,’ Severn began, ‘an’ ladies.’ He smiled towards the group of matrons at the table across the room, and they reacted predictably by agitated activity with their fans, and blushing bowed heads. To be in a cantina was bad enough; to have everyone’s attention drawn to it was even worse.

  ‘I ain’t much on speechifyin’, so I’ll keep what I got to say short an’ to the point. We put Yancey Cullane’s body on his horse, an’ hazed it on out o’ town. I’d reckon it’ll be back where it come from afore night.’

  ‘Good riddance!’ somebody yelled.

  ‘Yeah! that’ll give ol’ Billy somethin’ to chaw on,’ grinned Bronco Ogston, hunkered down on his haunches near the doorway, a wide grin on his beaten-up face.

  ‘Mebbe, mebbe,’ Severn agreed, amid the general laughter which Ogston’s remark elicited, ‘but he’ll want to chew on somethin’ else — that somethin’ bein’ us — when he reads the note I sent him.’

  ‘You sent him a note, Don?’ Jenny Winn asked. ‘How did you manage that?’

  ‘Special delivery,’ Severn told her.

  ‘Pinned it to Yancey’s shirt,’ added Dad Poynton.

  ‘Well tell us what it said, man!’ called out the alcalde, impatiently. ‘Or is it a secret?’

  ‘No secret, Paul,’ Severn said. ‘The note read like this: “Yancey Cullane returned herewith, havin’ failed in his attempt to get his brother out o’ jail.”’

  ‘Yu think that’s why he come into town, Severn?’ put in Long, sitting beside Ogston and his cronies.

  ‘Can’t think o’ nothin’ else,’ was the disarming reply. ‘Anyways, like I was sayin’, the note goes on: “No point in sendin’ anyone else—” I’m just givin’ yu the gist of it, yu understand — “on account o’ the fact that we’ve sent for the circuit judge for the State o’ Anahuila, an’ a troop o’ soldiers to ride down here with him an’ try Marco for murder, attempted murder, carryin’ a weapon within town limits, an’ anythin’ else we can think of. If he’s guilty he’ll be hanged, an’ if he ain’t we’ll ship him off to Mexico City with the sojer boys, an’ they’ll send him on back to the States!’

  There was a complete silence as Severn finished his statement; it was finally broken by a long, low whistle from Mike Turnbull, who got to his feet and approached Severn.

  ‘Don,’ he said. ‘If I was a bettin’ man, I’d lay you odds of fifty to one that ol’ Billy will be down here tomorrow painted for war an’ loaded for bear. In fact, I’ll offer yu fifty to one he is!’

  ‘No need of it, Mike,’ Severn said, stilling the hubbub of speculation and discussion which Turnbull’s words had stimulated. I’m bettin’ on it my own self.’

  ‘You are deliberately provoking the Cullanes into attacking San Jaime?’

  The voice was quiet, but it carried across the room and every other voice was stilled. Father Malcolm stood at the door, his eyes ice-blue and angry. ‘Do you really want to see every man, woman, and child in the town murdered, Severn?’

  ‘No, seh, I don’t,’ Severn replied. ‘I can’t fight the Cullanes on their own ground. I reckon if we pick the battlefield, we got the odds on our side.’

  The odds, perhaps, my son,’ the old man said sadly. ‘But what about God?’

  ‘God’s on the side o’ the big battalions, padre!,’ called out a man at the back of the cantina.

  ‘No, my son, God is on the side of what is just, and humane, and good.’

  ‘Well, padre’ put in Dad Poynton, ‘as to that, I’d say it’s just for a man to want to live in a town without bein’ afeared that someone’ll kill him for no damn reason a-tall! I’d say it was mighty humane for men to kill on’y in self-defense, defense o’ their homes, an’ their wives an’ kids: An’ I’d say — beggin’ yore pardon, padre, cause I ain’t got the eddication o’ some — that freedom’s a good thing, an’ justice is a good thing, an’ if yore Gawd don’t think men who fight for that are worth backin’, then I ain’t shore I’d want Him on my side anyways!’

  He subsided, looking around in some surprise, as if astonished by his own verbosity, and discovered that his listeners were cheering, pounding him on the back, shouting encouragement to him. Father Malcolm smiled a little sadly, but warmly.

  ‘I will pray for you all,’ he said softly. And he went out of the cantina and across the square to his church, while Severn made a space in the crowd and on the floor, placed a large sheet of paper with a rough plan of the town drawn on it. The people
nearby crowded around, peering at the map, while those behind quickly pulled across chairs, tables, anything which would bear their weight, and leaned upon the shoulders of those standing, so that they might see what it was that Severn was describing.

  ‘Ain’t no doubt in our minds,’ Severn was saying, ‘that they’ll make the focal point o’ their attack the jail. That bein’ the case, we aim to fool ‘em some. We’re goin’ to put Marco an’ the others in Pete Yope’s barn, here on the southeastern corner. We’ll post men in the corral, facin’ out, an’ a bunch of our good shots on the roof o’ the jail. I’m hopin’ that’ll cut them down some, an’ force them to ride north along the western edge o’ town, to try to force entry between the church an’ the line o’ houses on the western side. We’ll have the rest of our good shots there. If that ain’t beat them off, odds are they’ll go for the weakest point, which is the street between the church an’ yore house, Jenny. We’ll just have to hold ‘em there if we can. We’ll have men on every rooftop who can shoot to the west or the east, whichever way they come at us. If they get through, they’ll veer west inside the square, headin’ for the jail. Then all the men who was defendin’ the jail an’ Yope’s place can swing around an’ face them. I reckon we can hold ‘em fine. Any questions?’

  ‘What if they swing right around the plaza an’ hit the northern end first, Severn?’ asked Shearer.

  ‘Then we’re in trouble,’ Severn replied. ‘But I’m gamblin’ on them makin’ their first play for the jail. However, even if they come in from the north we still got a good chance o’ stoppin’ ’em, an’ stoppin’ em permanent.’

  ‘Who’s goin’ to man the strong points?’ Turnbull wanted to know.

  ‘Me, Rick Main an’ Poynton will be on the roof o’ the jail,’ Severn said. ‘Yu an’ three o’ yore boys will take the northwest corner. Tom Long here and Lawrence will be with some o’ the townspeople on the roof o’ Montoyas, an’ Jenny Winn’s house, on all them houses down that side. Yope, yu an’ Shearer with some more men’ll be holdin’ the southeast corner o’ the plaza. You got my idea about the rooftops?’

  ‘Shore thing, Don,’ enthused Poynton. ‘A man can shoot both directions from up there, either into the plaza away from it, dependin’ on where the action is!’

  ‘An’ I’d say the action is goin’ to be plentiful,’ remarked Rick Main quietly. ‘Any more questions?’

  ‘What time yu reckon they’ll hit, Severn?’ Yope wanted to know.

  ‘Sunup’s most likely,’ Severn told him. ‘They won’t come in at night, on account o’ bein’ at a big disadvantage if they can’t get to Marco an’ the others quick.’

  ‘Sunup tomorrow, mebbe?’ put in Long.

  ‘It’d be worth bettin’ on,’ Severn agreed. ‘I want every man here to get out his rifle. Every round o’ ammunition yu can lay yore hands on. Yope here is turnin’ over all he has, an’ Hardingham, there, is openin’ the store to all comers; so yu won’t be short. Keep yore women an’ kids behind the walls, away from winders. They can reload pistols while yo’re firin’ rifles, an’ vicey-versa. But keep ’em well down — bullets’ll be flyin’ thick an’ fast!’

  He rolled up the rough map and put it on the bar. Those who had before cheered Poynton and laughed with rough enjoyment at the story of the note pinned to Yancey Cullane’s shirt were now strangely silent. One or two men talked quietly to each other. There was no excitement, no eagerness. They knew that whatever the morrow brought, some of them would not live through it and each man eyed his neighbor and wondered: will it be him? Will it be me?

  ‘That’s all for now, boys,’ Severn told them. ‘I’ll want every man jack o’ yu in the plaza an hour afore dawn tomorrow, with yore guns. Oh, an’ one last thing: anyone who wants to leave can do so now. There’ll be no fingers pointed; no questions asked. Nobody’s got to stay as doesn’t want to. But every man that stays is declarin’ his intention to stay an’ fight! We’re closin’ the town at sundown tonight. After that, nobody comes in, an’ nobody goes out. All clear?’

  ‘Clear as crystal, Don,’ Poynton said. ‘An’ I’m here to tell yu I’m dadblasted delighted to see that not one o’ the men in this room has made a move to leave.’

  ‘I never thought they would,’ Severn finished, softly. ‘Men, I’m thankin’ yu.’

  ‘Ah, no, senor Severn,’ a Mexican standing on Poynton’s right interposed. ‘You should not thank us for doing something we should have done years ago. We should thank you. Speaking or my fellow townspeople, I do so, from the bottom of my heart. We will fight with you. Some of us maybe will die. But like men, señor. Like men!’

  Head high, the Mexican turned on his heel and walked out of the saloon. One or two others touched him shyly as he passed but he did not appear to notice.

  ‘Feisty li’l rooster, ain’t he?’ chuckled Poynton. ‘All things considered.’

  ‘What yu mean, all things considered?’ asked Rick Main in some wonderment. He had found the little Mexican’s words strangely moving.

  ‘Hell, boy, don’t yu know who that is?’ Poynton said, a huge smile splitting his toothless face. That’s Martin Chavez.’

  ‘Yu mean, the one with—?’

  ‘That’s right, boy,’ Poynton said, slapping the gambler on the back. The one with the eight little ’uns an’ the great big fat wife that looks like Mangas Coloradas!’

  ‘Well, I’ll be damned!’ gasped Main.

  ‘There ain’t a doubt of it,’ agreed Poynton soberly.

  Over the course of the afternoon, without drawing attention to themselves, Severn, Poynton and Main drifted around the plaza talking to Turnbull and his men, and some others. They spoke but briefly. Each colloquy was accompanied by much vehement nodding of heads, and by a look of determination appearing on the faces of the men addressed. Towards sundown, they drifted idly into certain places around the square. Some squatted and smoked idly, their hats tipped forward on their foreheads. Others stopped to pass the time of day with this citizen or that, some mother and her brood; some merely walked idly the length of the square and back, looking like men going nowhere in particular, perhaps just walking to ease the tension which had now settled upon the little placita like some dark cloud, invisible yet tangible, all-enveloping, threatening. Men spoke in whispers, although one or two were loud as if in reaction to the quiet and the pressure of their nerves. Through it all, here now, and then there, wandered Severn, missing nothing. A quiet word here with a Mexican youth proudly cleaning an old muzzle-loader; a pat on the shoulder for a man who stopped to shake his hand and murmur “Con Dios.” And as the sun sank slowly into the west, glorious in reds and oranges and blacks and purples, he stopped by the fountain in the center of the plaza and mentally reviewed his preparations.

  ‘It might work,’ he muttered. ‘It might just work.’

  At dusk, he knocked quietly on the door of Jenny Winn’s little house, and smiled in greeting as she opened it wide.

  ‘Why, Don,’ she exclaimed, ‘I thought you’d be too busy to spare any time for me!’

  ‘Business call, Jenny,’ he told her. ‘I want to check yore house, so I can put my men on the roof tomorrow.’

  ‘Do you really think they will come?’ she said, very quietly.

  ‘Jenny, they got to come,’ he answered. ‘Billy Cullane ain’t fool enough to make war on the Mex Government. When that Judge gets here with his troopers, Marco is done for, an’ Billy Cullane’ll know that. He can’t sit back an’ let his oldest son be hanged. He just ain’t built that way.’

  She looked at him oddly for a moment, as though weighing a decision. She sighed, and sat down in the wicker armchair which Ray Poynton had dozed in only the other evening.

  ‘Don ...’ she began hesitantly. ‘You aren’t bluffing?’

  ‘Bluffin’?’ he said, with surprise on his face. ‘Bluffin’ about what?’

  ‘About sending for the Judge and the soldiers?’

  ‘Shucks, Jenny, that’s a funny thing to ask me,’ he rema
rked. ‘No, I ain’t bluffin’. I sent little Juan Rodriguez hightailin’ it up to Anahuila City same day we clapped Marco Cullane in the hoosegow. What made yu think I was bluffin’, in heaven’s name?’

  ‘Oh ... just a funny feeling,’ she replied, offhandedly. ‘Silly of me, really. Woman’s intuition!’ She laughed, as if impatient with the idea of such a thing. Then she rose and moved around the room, taking short, urgent strides.

  ‘Yo’re mighty restless, Jenny,’ observed the Marshal. ‘Is somethin’ botherin’ yu?’

  ‘No,’ she said, frowning. Then, realizing that she had been pacing without knowing it, she sat down. ‘I guess, yes, really. Thinking about tomorrow. Don — you will be careful? Promise me you will be careful!’

  He nodded. ‘I promise.’

  ‘If anything happened to you, I’d—’ Jenny broke off, and picked up a sampler, picking idly at the stitches half-finished on its surface.

  ‘I better get movin’,’ Severn said, rising. There’s a lot—’

  ‘—to do, I know,’ she said, quietly. Then, with more force: ‘Don Severn, sit down for a moment, I want to talk to you.’

  Severn sat down with some alacrity. ‘Yes, ma’am’ he smiled.

  ‘Since our talk — the other night — you haven’t mentioned anything. It’s — very hard for me to say it, Don ...’

  ‘Then don’t,’ he said, quietly. ‘I thought about it, Jenny. I thought about it a lot. I’d be proud to call on yu - in any other circumstances. But things bein’ the way they are—’

  ‘Damn them!’ she spat, and for a moment fire blazed in the dark eyes. Then she dropped her lashes quickly, and bent her head, speaking so quietly that Severn had to strain to hear her words. ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You see what happens when I talk to you. But Don, my dear—’ she looked up at him and her dark eyes were soft with tears, — it isn’t too late. We could go away from here, now. We could be far away from San Jaime before morning. Let them fight their battle with whoever they will — it is not our concern!’