Shatto (Perry County, Pennsylvania Frontier Series)

by Roy F. Chandler

  At first he could move the rock with some ease, but as the finish smoothed he found his hands slipped, and by the time the stone was ready, he was not sure how successful he would be lifting it.

  When not working on it, he kept the stone out of sight. If word of its existence leaked, there would be no ready wagering when he tried the genuine lifting stone.

  Then, he practiced. At first he had little luck. The weight of the stone rated second to its shape and balance. The thing seemed alive. The instant he got it off the ground it turned in his hands and he lost it.

  He got stronger just from the trying and after a while he figured out how to do it. The lift took terrible crushing strength to press his hands tight under the curve of the stone. He had to balance the stone as it cleared the ground and using his fingers and wrists, roll it back onto his forearms until it lay against his chest, then, leaning far back against the weight, he had to rise to his feet and walk away with it.

  He got so he could make the lift three times in a row. He walked around his shop carrying the thing. He felt certain he could lift the carrying stone, but he kept practicing anyway and got better at it.

  He enlisted Cad Jones and Abel in his scheme. Neither knew of Rob's practice. He just told them he planned to lift the stone and for them to get the word around. When the betting started, they were to take all wagers, but they were to act as though unsure that their friend Rob could really do it.

  Rob helped out a little, too. He was seen kicking at the stone and shaking his head uncertainly. He let a rumor grow that he had sprung his back a little breaking a horse and on the Saturday of the lifting attempt, he appeared with a bandage around one thumb.

  None of this was missed. Some believed some of it, and others, none of it. Natural horse traders, they weren't easily taken in. Few figured Rob Shatto could lift the stone. Far bigger men had failed. Jones and Troop covered their bets, mostly with Rob's money, for they too had doubts.

  Remembering the horse race with Troop's stallion, Cad Jones firmed his lip and bet some of his own hard-to-come-by cash on Rob's ability. Abel Troop would have bet on Rob Shatto even if he knew there wasn't a chance. Rob was his friend and Troop stood with him no matter how things appeared. He hoped Rob could actually lift the stone, but if he couldn't, he prayed he could sort of move it around a little so he wouldn't be embarrassed by his attempt.

  Shaven, bathed, and cleanly dressed, the farm families had wagoned into town for the week's shopping, while women bustled in the stores and visited with friends, the men gathered in the tavern rooms on Main and Carlisle streets to talk crops, stock, hunting and Rob Shatto's chances of lifting the stone. Those that remembered old Rob spoke of how powerful he had been and noted that Robbie looked much like him. Others pointed out that Robbie's pap had never shown special muscle strength or endurance. Jones and Troop took their bets.

  Rob was to get three chances. Each time he took hold of the stone was a chance. Such important details were laid out carefully so no complaints could later be registered. A successful lift had to be knee high and held while Reverend John Niblock, a man deemed above deceit, counted to three.

  The crowd shuffled for vantage points as Rob approached the stone and readied himself. The knowing had nudged each other as Rob laid aside his bandage exposing a normal looking thumb. He had chosen to wear his doeskin hunting shirt, finding that the stone would better grip the leather arms, than it would the slickness of his skin.

  The stone had been cleaned off and placed on smooth ground. Rob knelt before it, thrusting his hands below the body of the rock. Someone said, "Won't do no good prayin' over it, Rob." And there was a delay while Rob and everybody else got settled down again. The crowd silenced and breaths sucked in as all strained with Rob to lift.

  For a long moment muscle bunched along Rob's back and the stone rose a good inch. Then, it rolled away and thudded solidly onto the ground,

  The crowd exhaled en masse and excited comments rolled. Rob stood, shaking his muscles loose, and pulled reflectively at his ear. Cad Jones caught the signal and immediately announced his continued confidence in Rob's ability. He collected a few more wagers.

  Rob listened in apparent concern to advice from involved spectators, then, he again approached the stone.

  Rob knew he could raise it. Although surprisingly heavy, he had felt his control of the stone on the first try. He was tempted to let the stone slip a second time and secure added bets, but a genuine slip on the third and last effort could occur. He dared not risk it.

  He knelt, got his best grip on the stone, and winked at Cadwallader. He closed his eyes in concentration and poured his strength into the lift. The weight strained on his wrists and then settled solidly onto his forearms. He sucked in a breath, rolling the awful weight higher against his chest. He leaned carefully backward into a squat and straightened powerfully to his feet—the lifting stone crushed tightly to his chest.

  The screeching crowd drowned the reverend's counting and sent adrenalin surging through Rob's straining body. On impulse he turned and began walking slowly toward the courthouse. The crowd in front scrambled and bumped to make way. He felt the packed road surface beneath his feet and considered dropping the awful burden. He took another step and another, and more. The steps of the courthouse were near. He wondered if he could do it, and the thought, coupled with the shouting and applauding crowd, poured courage into his heart and he tried.

  He could hear his breath sucking in and out in tortured gasps. Fiery exhaustion fogged his vision. He felt certain his clenched teeth would crack under the strain. He reached the courthouse steps and sudden silence overcame the crowd. Unable to see below the rock, his foot fumbled for the first step. He found it and forced himself up. Someone called, "You can do it, Rob!" but the rest stood quiet, feeling with him the killing strain.

  He knelt slowly before the top step and rolled the weight forward and gently down through forearms too strained to move. The lifting stone thunked solidly on the courthouse entrance and the gathering exploded. Men thumped each other and Rob's bowed back. They stomped and bellowed as though they had themselves accomplished the great carry. Some hurried away to tell others what had occurred.

  Rob endured and enjoyed the congratulations and repetitious descriptions of his feat. He was completely blown. His muscles shook as though palsied. It was minutes before he dared sip at a cool beer someone had thrust upon him.

  Troop and Jones collected bets and made appointments to collect others. When spectators finally straggled away, they sat in the evening shadows against the east side of the courthouse with Rob and divided the loot.

  Troop asked, "Rob, why did you do it? All you had to do was lift the damn thing. My God, you could have torn your guts out!"

  Rob chuckled over Cad Jones' vigorous agreement. "Can't tell you why. Seeing I had a good hold on it, I figured I could make the edge of the lot. When I saw the courthouse, it just popped into my head to try."

  He stretched and wriggled a little. "Whew, I won't be good for anything for a week." He looked around. "Hey, where's my pistol? Somebody might try holding us up for all these winnings." The truth was Rob Shatto still felt a little strange without the gun at his waist.

  Rob dug a hole in the dirt floor of his forge shed and rolled his practice stone in. He tamped the spot smooth and figured he would let some years pass before he told anyone about it.

  +++++

  Chapter 16

  Maddoc Ruby returned to Perry County on a canal boat. He stomped into a Newport drinking room and shouldered himself a wide place at the bar. He wasted no time in announcing his intentions. He spoke loudly so all would hear.

  "I'm Maddoc Ruby. I'm lookin' for a yellow dog that picks fights with old men. I figure him to hang out around Bloomfield. That's where I'm headin,' and when I find this slinkin' hound, I'm plannin' on makin' him crawl and beg till I'm tired o' lookin' at him. If anybody here knows Rob Shatto, tell him Maddoc Ruby's in town and waitin' for him."

  Bef
ore Ruby had finished his drink, a rider was pounding out the Little Buffalo road to tell Rob Shatto. As the Blue Ball Tavern lay en route, the rider had to pause there for a few quick swallows and to spread the exciting news. That took longer than expected, and by the time the messenger arrived at Rob's place Maddoc Ruby's rented buggy was in Bloomfield and word of his challenge was fanning across the county.

  They sat on the lower step of Rob's porch with Amy hovering anxiously in the background. Rob listened to the excited rider's story with outward equanimity. If the messenger had hoped to be privy to Rob Shatto's actions, he was disappointed. Rob thanked him and indicated his intent to think on the matter.

  When the man was gone, Amy dropped onto the step beside her husband. She sensed his concern and knew he was aware of her own fears. Rob took her hand, leaning back and letting his eyes take in the run of tree-lined creek, he seemed relaxed, but Amy Shatto knew her man and recognized the seriousness of Ruby's threats.

  "Rob, can't the Sheriff do something about that man?"

  "Not much, Amy. Oh, he could charge Ruby with threatening the peace or something. But it wouldn't do any good or change anything. Ruby would still be waiting and everyone would know it. Next time I go into town he will be there and I'll have to fight." He elaborated, 'The man has come for blood, Amy. He won't let go at less."

  Rob grinned a little ruefully. "In the mountains, I'd ride in and shoot him into rags. 0f course, out there, he would know better than to make serious trouble."

  He stirred restlessly as Amy shivered at the coldness of his words.

  "Where there isn't any law, Ruby would walk quiet. Here, the law can't do anything much until it's all over and too late. Seems some people are always taking advantage of the laws that are supposed to protect us. If I ride in and shoot Ruby dead, I'm likely to be hung for murder. If I don't, he's going to do his best to break my bones and leave me crippled up from what most will call a fair fight.

  "Suppose I just went in and refused to fight? He would probably take a horse whip to me while the whole county laughed at how afraid I was."

  He grinned his chill smile. "Got any ideas that might help, Amy?"

  She could only shrug helplessly, feeling that it wasn't right but finding no solution. Clutching her husband's strong and calloused palm she found herself examining his every feature with a suddenly urgent hunger. Genuine danger loomed very close and her fears for her man grew with it.

  She considered the possibility of riding in to reason with Maddoc Ruby, to make him see the foolishness of his actions. But recognizing the futility of attempting to talk with such as Ruby, her thoughts turned to finding the man and shotgunning him on sight. The thoughts terrified her, and Rob seemed to sense her fright. He pulled her closer and said, "Now Amy, don't fret. I'll think on it some so that I don't act rashly. Then I'll do whatever has to be done. It will work out, you'll see."

  Rob had never seen Maddoc Ruby, but from all he had heard doing what had to be done would not be all that easy.

  +++++

  Maddoc Ruby had waited two days, but Rob Shatto hadn't come in. Ruby sent his threats and challenges in a dozen directions. Hangers-on from the various taverns had been cajoled into taking word of Ruby's latest insults out to Rob's place. Most pleaded fear of Maddoc Ruby as their reason for not refusing the mission. Their reception by Rob was always the same. There was half-smiling attention to Ruby's threats, an amused shake of the head, and spoken appreciation for the rider's efforts in bringing the message. If pressed for an answer or indication of his intentions, Rob merely agreed to give it all some thought real soon.

  In Bloomfield, Maddoc Ruby chafed at Rob Shatto's apparent lack of concern. He belabored all and sundry with his interpretation of Rob's confrontation with old Bart Harris at the Germantown Blue Ball Tavern. He hinted darkly that his missing brothers might have been ambushed and slain by the Injun back shooter called Shatto.

  Sheriff Hipple talked seriously to Maddoc Ruby to little avail. Ruby contended that the time had yet to come that men couldn't settle differences with their fists. Sheriff Hipple had to content himself with demanding that Ruby cease his continual agitating, but his threats of incarceration served only to make Ruby more careful with whom he talked.

  Maddoc Ruby was a monster of a man, He stood well over six feet without his thick boots. His head resembled an oaken keg with flattened nose and scarred and twisted lips. Broken teeth spotted the small Ruby mouth and ears swollen and distorted by countless brawls lay tight against a round, hair-matted skull.

  If Ruby had a neck, it was buried within an immense bulge of shoulders that began at his ears and sloped to thick, muscle-knotted arms. His body resembled a barrel, with no visible waist, and it terminated in trunk-like legs and broad, splayed feet.

  Maddoc Ruby was a fearsome creature. He was a hairy man with tufted knuckles and furred body. Heavy brows emphasized his beetled forehead, with almost simian eyes glaring animal-cunning beneath. Few chose to hold his eye lest the man's latent ferocity be turned toward them. Many of the drinking crowd toadied to Ruby and listened hungrily to his stories of brawls and savagery that had followed him to the Mississippi and down its great waters. They licked slack lips and nodded eagerly over details of wild drinking, debauchery, and the brutal maulings that seemed the crux of the man's existence. Few of those listeners expected Rob Shatto to stand a chance with the experienced brawler. Their stripe had little to bet, but what they had they tried to lay on Maddoc Ruby smashing Rob Shatto without any special difficulty. That was, providing Shatto showed up at all!

  Maddoc Ruby had returned to the Ruby place in the swampy Carolina tidewater country to find old Bart brooding and plotting while waiting for the last fighting Ruby's arrival.

  Maddoc was not moved by the disappearance of his brothers. Old Bart's desire for vengeance concerned him even less. Maddoc thought his clan a weak-bellied crowd at best. His own taste for violence had developed so far beyond their squabbling that he refused to be burdened with old Bart's petty ranting.

  Bart Harris understood better than Maddoc Ruby suspected. Old Bart had planned well. He had scraped and scrounged until he had assembled a sizeable pouch of coins. With Maddoc's snort of disinterest, old Bart had chunked the heavy pouch on the slab table, and Maddoc Ruby became far more amenable.

  Old Bart wanted Rob Shatto hurt real bad! He wanted him beaten, stomped, bone-broken and as publicly humiliated as Maddoc Ruby could manage. Ruby eyed the pouch and took on the job, although he'd have preferred ambushing Shatto with his sawed off shotgun and being done with it. Old Bart chuckled and paid out part of the coins. The rest would be collected when the job was done.

  Ruby traveled north, certain of his ability, concerned mainly with getting it over with as quickly as possible and not running afoul the law.

  But Rob Shatto had not risen to the many challenges. Ruby had been told that Shatto was a tough and proud man. He had based his insults on that information. Now, he began to wonder if Rob Shatto was too small in spirit to come in. If so, he would have to go out and get him. In town would be better, but one way or another, Maddoc Ruby was getting tired of waiting.

  +++++

  Rob stopped at Jack Elan's cabin on his way to Bloomfield. As far as he knew, Maddoc Ruby was alone, but he wanted Abel Troop in town making sure it stayed that way. Abel took his gun and headed on in while Rob waited until he was certain sure that no surprises were waiting in the village.

  Amy had seen Rob off with obvious anxiety. He had been adamant in his insistence that she stay behind. He wanted no distractions that might dilute his efforts. He expected a bad time ahead, and although assuring Amy of his safety, he knew he faced a battle that would approach a fight to the death.

  There were no rules to limit this kind of fight, but he had been to that well before. He thought he knew what to do, if he had the strength, speed and endurance to carry it out.

  He mounted at Elan's porch, jammed his hat into a saddlebag, and lifted his horse into a trot.
He had met a farmer on the way in. By now, word of his coming would have spread. He supposed they would fight on the market lot, unless the sheriff was there to make them take it out of town.

  At Church Street, he slowed to a walk, looking ahead, seeing a crowd gathered near the square. A huge hulk of a man stood alone, legs planted solidly, hands fisted on hips. Rob guessed this must be Maddoc Ruby, and he smiled grimly feeling his pulse quicken and recognizing a leaping anticipation. He slipped his booted feet free of the stirrups and rode Indian fashion, his toes gripping the horse's barrel.

  Maddoc Ruby waited, judging the figure walking the horse toward him.

  He was ready to leap clear if Shatto tried charging him with the horse, but the rider kept coming as though he didn't even see Ruby waiting.

  Ruby figured Shatto to be about his own height. He appeared broad shouldered and strong enough, but nothing special to worry over. Maddoc Ruby could feel his fists tingle. He liked a good knuckle and skull brawl. He figured to leave the watching crowd something to remember and maybe tell their children about.

  Rob Shatto sat loose in his saddle letting the horse pick its way slowly along Main Street. As he passed the Rising Sun Tavern, a crowd of watchers broke into the street to follow along. Ahead, Ruby waited near the road edge, standing arms akimbo, a narrow sneer twisting his features.

  The horse drew near and Ruby watched it closely. Shatto finally looked down at him and Ruby felt the impact of eyes as deadly as his own. He felt warning twinges flicker across his nerves, and Shatto leaned close to speak to him.

  Held by Rob's icy stare, Ruby saw the hard-driven foot far too late to react. Prepared to bandy words, Rob's instant attack caught the brawler flat-footed. A rock hard boot toe caught Maddoc Ruby solidly under the chin, snapped his head back on his muscle-packed shoulders, and drove him staggering backward.