Stands a Calder Man

by Janet Dailey

  Thirty feet away, Franz Kreuger stood poised with his rifle to his shoulder, a faint white trail of smoke curling from the barrel. As Hobie crumpled into a heap on the dusty ground, his two comrades back-pedaled, slinking away before the rifle was turned on them. But Kreuger kept it reined on the dead man.

  His eyes had the look of a ‘crazed man, pushed over the brink by too many battles with opponents he couldn’t beat—the drought that had ruined his farm and the disease that had taken his children and made an invalid of his wife. Hobie Evans finally represented something he could destroy. His life could be taken as the drought had taken the life from his land and the disease had claimed the last breath of his children.

  Everyone recognized his demented look and no one took a step toward the dead man or the man with the rifle, afraid that he might become indiscriminate about his next target. Webb knew something had to be done and fought the coldness in the pit of his stomach. When he started to move toward Kreuger, a hand clamped itself on his shoulder to stop him. His head jerked to the side as Doyle Pettit moved silently up on his left.

  “You’d better stay out of it, Webb,” he murmured and eyed Kreuger with a steady coolness. “He’d just as soon shoot you as look at you.”

  From the other side of the street. Sheriff Potter was threading his way through the crowd with a double-barreled shotgun in hand. Doyle Pettit left Webb and angled over to join up with the law officer.

  With a brassiness that Webb couldn’t help but admire, Doyle walked jauntily to Kreuger with a bright-eyed, innocent look fixed on his handsome face. His hands were thrust in his pants pockets, casually pushing his jacket open to subtly prove he was unarmed. Hobie had been unarmed, too. Kreuger’s side glance at Doyle was full of suspicion, but Doyle stood there, looking at the crumpled body in the dirt.

  “He was a mean one, wasn’t he?” he said in a light, dispassionate voice.

  “He deserved to die,” Kreuger declared. “No one should take pleasure from other people’s suffering. He should have been killed long ago. I have said over and over that we must all stick together and help each other out. But we are letting people like him drive us from our lands. It is time we stopped them.”

  Doyle appeared to give a lot of thought to the embittered declaration the man made. “You know, Kreuger, I think you’re right.” He nodded. “We’ve got to stick together in this. You and me and the sheriff should sit down and come up with a plan. That Hobie Evans has given the sheriff nothing but trouble from the beginning. Isn’t that right, Sheriff?” The question invited Potter to come forward.

  The sheriff kept the shotgun pointed at the ground, not making any threatening motions toward Kreuger. The weapon was easily explained away by Doyle, since Potter had only heard the gunshot and had not known what kind of trouble to expect or from whom. Within minutes, the two were guiding Kreuger up the street toward the sheriffs office. Doyle Pettit kept Kreuger talking and listened attentively to everything he had to say.

  Two cowboys came forward to carry Evans’s body over to the smithy’s shop, who also did double duty as a coffinmaker. Lilli was white and trembling when Webb returned to her side. He immediately guided her away from the milling throng into the roadhouse and found a quiet table in the corner. With the excitement of the shooting, it was several minutes before he managed to have the waitress bring coffee to their table.

  Lilli held Chase’s arms down to keep him from grabbing the cup of hot coffee while she took a sip of it. It seemed to steady her nerves.

  “Are you okay?” Webb asked, and she nodded.

  “I think I’ve always known Kreuger was capable of killing someone in cold blood,” she murmured. “But seeing it—” She shuddered expressively, not needing to finish the sentence.

  “It’s over now.” His hand closed over hers.

  “Is it?” She looked up at him, her blue eyes wide with doubt. “Or is it just the beginning?” Webb didn’t answer, stunned by the quiet conviction in her voice. “I’ve heard all the stories about long dry spells that have driven people berserk. Kreuger has always advocated violence. He’s shown he’s willing to commit it. What’s to stop him now?”

  “The sheriff has him in custody, Lil. You don’t have to worry about him anymore,” he insisted.

  “I wished I believed that,” she murmured, because the knowledge didn’t reassure her.

  The door to the roadhouse opened and Simon Bardolph walked in. He was halfway to an empty table when he spotted Webb and Lilli sitting in the corner. He changed course to join them.

  “You saw it?” he asked as he pulled out a chair to sit down. There wasn’t any need to refer directly to the shooting. It was the only topic being discussed in town.

  Webb nodded. Simon leaned both elbows on the table and wiped at his face, smoothing the shaggy hair behind his ears. “I’ve just been over to look at the body so I can write up the death certificate. I knew Kreuger would snap sometime. Too many things have been piling up on him.”

  “Has Kreuger sold out? Is he leaving?” Webb asked.

  “The only way he’ll leave that place is feet first.” The physician shook his head and sighed tiredly.

  Chase was trying to put his fingers in Lilli’s mouth. She absently took hold of them and pushed his hand down. “What about Helga?” she asked, suddenly concerned about Kreuger’s wife. “Did she come to town with him?”

  “I doubt it. Just about any kind of exertion starts her coughing. I’m sure she stayed at their place with her daughter,” Simon guessed and motioned to the waitress that he wanted coffee, too.

  “Someone has to tell her what happened,” she said, feeling pity for the woman and wondering what would happen to her.

  There was a heavy sigh from the doctor. “I’ll drive out there. She’ll probably need me.” He didn’t look forward to it, but he was the logical person under the circumstances.

  Voices were raised outside the roadhouse, cheering remarks filtering inside. When the door was opened, a half-dozen people spilled into the restaurant area, fighting for the chance to shake Doyle Pettit’s hand and congratulate him on the way he had so quietly handled Kreuger. His gaze swept the room, stopping at Webb’s table. It took him a few seconds to disengage from the group and approach their table.

  “I’m glad to see you, Simon.” He pulled out a chair next to the doctor’s and sat down. “I was looking for you, and somebody said they’d seen you come in here.”

  “What is it? Are you having problems with Kreuger?” Simon asked, rousing himself to sit up straighter.

  “Not exactly. Right now he’s locked up in my office. We took him there rather than alarming him by taking him to the sheriffs,” Doyle explained. “I’ve closed the bank for the day so we can figure out what to do with him.”

  “He’s at the bank?” Simon frowned.

  “He isn’t going to cause any trouble for a while.” Doyle dismissed the concern that came into their expressions. “I slipped some laudanum into his coffee. He’s sleeping on my couch. He’ll be out for a couple of hours or more.”

  “Then what’s the trouble?” Simon didn’t understand, unless Doyle and the sheriff wanted him to keep Kreuger sedated.

  “Kreuger’s been under a lot of stress. He cracked today.” His glance darted around the table before stopping to study a point in the middle. “I guess we can all be glad that nobody else was hurt but Evans. I can’t say I blame him for killing Hobie. There have been times when I wanted to strangle the man myself. If Kreuger is locked up until the trial, I think he’ll go completely over the wall. I’d like you to help me convince the sheriff to release Kreuger in my custody. I can control him. I can take him and his family out to my ranch where they can get plenty of food and rest.”

  “Are you saying you think he was justified in killing an unarmed man because that person was Hobie Evans?” Simon stared at him, faintly angry.

  “That isn’t for me to decide. That’s a jury’s job. I’m not saying he should go free,” Doyle insisted.
“But, because of his condition, I don’t think he should be jailed until the trial. After all that man’s been through, he deserves some compassion. Desperate men sometimes do desperate things.” He paused and studied the doctor with an earnest look. “Will you speak to the sheriff for me?”

  “Are you really prepared to be responsible for him?” Simon murmured.

  “I can handle him. Besides, I’ll have men watching him all the time. It isn’t just Kreuger I’m thinking about. It’s his wife and what all this will do to her,” Doyle argued persuasively.

  “I hope you aren’t making a mistake.” Simon breathed in, still skeptical, but willing to go along with the suggestion.

  “Good.” His mouth curved in satisfaction as he leaned back. “The sheriffs over in my office, keeping an eye on Kreuger just in case he wakes up. We’ll go over and talk to him.”

  “Let me go back to my place first and write up a death certificate.” The waitress came with his coffee. He pushed it toward Doyle. “You drink it. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  As the doctor left them, Lilli silently hoped he wouldn’t be able to convince the sheriff to go along with Doyle’s plan. She didn’t like the sound of it, even though she didn’t understand the cause of her misgivings.

  But when two of the most respected members of the community put the proposition to Potter, he succumbed to their assurances. Kreuger was still unconscious when they bundled him into the doctor’s buggy and drove out to his farm to get his wife and daughter.

  Doyle studied the sky, a haze of dust without a cloud in sight. The shooting this morning had been a stroke of luck as far as he was concerned. Whether Kreuger knew it or not, Doyle owed him a debt. There had been a run on the bank, draining his cash to a dangerously tow level. The shooting in the street had given him the perfect excuse to shut the doors before the money ran out and people started to panic. Because of his handling of Kreuger, the town regarded him as some kind of hero. They’d accept any excuse he gave why the bank wouldn’t be open tomorrow. Then it would be the weekend. By Monday, he should be able to raise the cash to cover the deficit.

  Buying the Snake M had put him in a bind, but it was going to be worth it. If he had guessed Mace would sell so soon, he could have made provisions to have the ready cash instead of dipping into the bank’s supply. It didn’t matter now, though. Everything was going to work out.

  “You look like the cat that got the cream.” Simon observed the faintly smug smile on Doyle’s face.

  “Do I?” The smile became more pronounced. “I guess it just feels good to help other people.” He turned to look at the doctor. “You know what they say: Cast your bread upon the waters . . .” The biblical quotation didn’t require completion.

  A horn tooted behind the buggy and Simon pulled on the reins to angle the gelding onto the hard shoulder and let the automobile pass. Webb was behind the wheel. He lifted a hand as they went by.

  They hadn’t stayed in town to do any shopping as Lilli had intended. She’d lost her desire for the outing. When she recognized Simon’s buggy and guessed at its destination of the Kreuger place, all her uncertainties came flooding back.

  “I’d feel much better if I knew Kreuger was in jail.” She had to speak loudly to make herself heard above the noise of the motor.

  “He’ll stand trial. You can be sure of it,” Webb replied.

  But she wasn’t.

  28

  Lightning flashed along the horizon, but Lilli wasn’t fooled by it. It was heat lightning, not the forerunner of rain. The night wind lifting the curtains at the window was warm and dry, but it lessened the stifling temperature of the upstairs bedroom, even if everything would be covered with dust in the morning.

  She tunneled a hand under the mass of auburn hair and lifted its weight from her neck as she turned to glance toward the crib where Chase was sleeping. His little nightshirt clung to him, damp with the perspiration on his chubby neck, but he slept soundly, indifferent to the heat.

  The warm wind curled around the exposed skin of her neck, cooling it a degree. Lilli had blamed the summer heat for the restlessness that had pushed her out of bed, but the endless heat wasn’t responsible for the thoughts that kept turning around in her head.

  Tomorrow was the day of Franz Kreuger’s trial. Three weeks had passed since the shooting, yet she was still apprehensive. No one had mourned Hobie Evans’s passing. Lilli hadn’t liked him any more than the next person, but Kreuger had murdered him—shot him in the back. If he got away with that, there would be no stopping him. He would consider himself above the law, justified to avenge any real or imagined wrong. Sooner or later his target for vengeance would be Webb. He had despised him for too long and the hatred ran too deep.

  She had attempted to confide her fears to Webb, but he didn’t truly understand. Kreuger would stand trial and be punished for his crime, Webb had insisted, but despite his assurances she didn’t have much faith in the law, and told him so. It had been one of their typical spirited disagreements. They had argued angrily over it, which now troubled Lilli as much as anything.

  With the thought of him uppermost in her mind, her gaze swung to the bed, intermittently illuminated by the flashes of heat lightning through the window where she stood. Even in sleep, his rugged features held their strength, his solid lips lying together in a firm line. Most of the covers were kicked off him. She studied his asymmetrical and thoroughly masculine body, relaxed now. Emotion swelled in her, a deep, abiding love that knew no end.

  Silently, she slipped off the cotton nightgown and glided into bed. At the touch of her, Webb automatically gathered her into the crook of his arm, but she leaned onto his chest, her hair falling over her shoulder to brush his cheek. When her lips probed at the stillness of his mouth, he stirred, wakening slowly. As the hunger in her kiss made itself known, he combed his fingers into her hair to press her head down and deepen the kiss.

  When he rolled her over onto the mattress, there was a moment when the contact between their lips was broken. “Make love to me, Webb,” Lilli murmured in that space.

  Slowly and passionately, they made the union last a long time. Neither seemed able to get enough of the other. Even when it was over and they drifted to sleep in each other’s arms, there was a sense that it hadn’t been enough—that there would never be enough loving.

  Dawn came with its fiery range of reds and oranges to herald the rise of a blazing yellow sun. Webb stopped the Model T in front of the Stanton house and let the engine idle. His glance shunted to his wife and son in the passenger seat. He reached out a hand to affectionately rumple the unruly mass of dark hair on his son’s head, but it was Lilli who claimed his attention.

  “Are you sure you want to go to the trial?” he asked.

  “Yes.” It was a determined answer that warned him she wouldn’t be budged no matter how strongly he felt she shouldn’t attend.

  With Chase in her arms, she stepped out of the car and climbed the porch steps to the door. Ruth had heard them drive up and opened the door before Lilli knocked. Chase recognized her and became excited, reaching out his hands to be held by her and laughing. Ruth was a second mother to him, so he never raised much of a fuss when Lilli left him with her.

  “He’s already had his breakfast,” Lilli said as she let Ruth take him from her. Little Buck came crawling to the door, and Chase immediately began wiggling in Ruth’s arms to be put down so he could play with her son. “I’m not sure when we’ll be back. It will depend on how long the trial lasts.”

  “Please don’t worry about Chase while you’re gone.” Ruth set him on the floor, “I’ll take good care of him.”

  Lilli watched her son crawling across the floor, so completely at home. When she lifted her gaze to Ruth, there was a vague tightness in her throat. “I know I don’t have to worry about him when he’s with you, Ruth. You love him as much as I do, I think.” Impulsively, she reached out and squeezed the woman’s hand, then turned quickly to walk back to the car. They had
a long drive ahead of them to the county seat.

  Before they entered the courtroom, Doyle Pettit drew the handcuffed Kreuger aside, out of earshot but under the eye of Sheriff Potter, He could see the dark suspicion and mistrust for the trial proceedings in Kreuger’s face and needed to allay them before the man stopped listening to him.

  “A lot depends on you doing exactly as I say,” Doyle murmured. Hopefully, Kreuger would never know how much depended on it. “You’re going to have to plead guilty and throw yourself at the mercy of the court.”

  “I won’t go to prison.” There was a threatening gleam in his eyes.

  “If you do what I say, you won’t.” His palms were sweating. He wasn’t sure if he could convince Kreuger. And he had to, because there was too much to lose. “Have I ever misled you about anything? I’m trying to help you, Kreuger.” The man said nothing and showed signs of listening, however sullenly. “The twelve men on the jury are all drylanders, so they know what you’ve been through. They’ll be sympathetic. Don’t worry about the judge, either. There isn’t any way Calder has gotten to him, so you don’t need to be thinking that. He’s my man.” Thanks to an overdue loan the judge had with his bank, but Doyle didn’t mention that. “Now we’ve got a few minutes. Do you want to run through it again?”

  “I am not an ignorant man.” Kreuger straightened, reading an implied insult into the question. “You have already told me several times what it is I should do.”

  “All right.” Doyle didn’t go into it again, although he would have felt more confident if they had. Kreuger was so damned unpredictable. He was taking a big chance risking so much on this man, but if he could pull it off, all his own problems were going to be behind him. People were beginning to wonder why the bank wasn’t open every day. When he ran out of excuses, it was all going to collapse unless this scheme succeeded.