by Lee Pierce
He stuck it in his shirt pocket and started for the door. “Doc,” he said, “Jimmy asked if you would take care that his brother’s body gets to the mortician. He’ll get with the man to make arrangements later.” The doctor nodded his head and Hack exited the building.
Melissa Quarry had closed the bank right on time. She hurried home, went straight to her room, and spent the next three hours preparing for her sunset ride. She changed clothes three times and combed her hair twice before she was happy with the way she looked. At seven o’clock on the dot she skipped down the stairs, hitting every other step, and sat down in the parlor to wait. Her father had not come home yet, but that was not unusual. He was often late and sometimes stayed at the hotel. Since her mother died, he had begun to spend more and more time away from home.
A soft knock at the door announced the arrival of her riding partner. Satisfied with her reflection in the hall mirror, she opened the door. Jim Butler stood on the porch, hat in hand. He gulped a mouthful of the warm evening air, coughed, and sputtered.
“Jim, are you okay?” said Melissa. “May I get you a glass of water?”
“No, no,” he said, waving that he was all right. “It’s just that I have never seen anything as beautiful as you are tonight. Melissa Quarry, you are stunning.”
Melissa beamed at Jim’s compliments. “Oh, Jim Butler, you are such a flatterer. I haven’t done anything special tonight.”
“Whatever the case, you are the finest looking lady I have seen in a long time.”
“Just the finest in a long time?” she teased. “Not the finest ever?”
Jim blushed. “Are you ready to go, Melissa?”
“Let me get my wrap. It gets cooler as the sun goes down.” She retrieved her shawl hanging on the hatrack by the door and joined Jim on the front porch. They boarded the buggy Jim had rented, he shook the reins, and the horse took off at a trot.
Jim and Melissa sat on opposite sides of the buggy seat all the way to the hill Jim had picked out to watch the sunset. He found a spot he liked and guided the horse over to it. Bunch grass grew in abundance in the area, so the animal had plenty to graze on. Jim jumped from the buggy seat and walked behind the rig. Rummaging around, he found a large wool blanket and spread the covering on a flat spot on the hillside. He then reached up and took Melissa’s hand to help her to the ground. Jim wasn’t sure, but for a moment he thought he felt Melissa squeeze his hand a bit harder than she had to. The time was around eight-thirty, so the couple had an hour before the sun started going down.
“Jim, we have been sitting here for five minutes now, and all you are doing is staring at me. I am doing all the talking. Jim? Jim, do you hear me?” She reached over and squeezed his arm hard.
“Hey,” he responded, “What’s that for?”
‘Jim Butler, I declare, you haven’t heard a word I said.”
“Sorry, Melissa.” Jim stroked his mustache. “I was just wonderin’ how a plug ugly like Mort Quarry could end up with the most beautiful girl in Texas as his daughter.”
“Oh, Jim! My goodness, can’t you think of anything but how I look? I have brains, too. I can run Daddy’s bank as well as he can—maybe better.”
“Oh, I’m sure of that, Melissa, and you’re right, I need to think about something else besides your incredible beauty.”
“Good, what would like to talk about? I am well versed in the arts. What do you think of William Shakespeare?”
“What do I think?” Jim smiled. “Why, I think your mother must have been a beauty, too.”
Melissa elbowed Jim in the ribs, pushed him over on his side, and pummeled him with her fists. He lay on his side protesting the mock beating he was receiving. Finished with the playful punching of her beaten adversary, Melissa offered him her hand in assistance. As he was being pulled up, Jim felt, for sure this time, an extra strong squeeze from Melissa. This time he squeezed back.
They sat close to each other and talked as the west Texas sky turned into a kaleidoscope of ever-changing colors. The sun dipped below the horizon, turning the sky silvery indigo. A hint of the coming spectacular show of stars began as random twinkling filled the heavens. Jim stared deep into Melissa’s eyes. He reached out and took her into his arms. Her eyes were closed and her lips were wet and inviting. She raised her mouth to his and he turned away.
“What’s the matter, Jim?” Her eyes were open and questioning. “I thought—”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. If I had my way I would take you in my arms and never let you go. I have never felt about a woman the way I feel about you. Melissa Quarry, I love you.”
“Why, Jim. Jim, darling—I love you, too. I wasn’t sure until tonight, but now I have no doubt about my love for you. If you feel the same way, why did you turn away?”
“Melissa, I haven’t been exactly truthful with you. I said that incident with your father wasn’t real, but it was. Your father was trying to run me out of town. He threatened to have me killed if I didn’t go.”
“What! But why?”
“Your father wants the Double-A-Slash Ranch and Bale Armstrong won’t sell it to him. I’m determined not to let that happen.”
“Oh, Jim, you must be wrong. My father told me yesterday that Mr. Armstrong had decided to sell the ranch to him. That’s what we were celebrating last night.”
“Melissa, do you know why your father said that? It’s because only two people stood between him and his taking Bale Armstrong’s ranch away, Chris Armstrong and me. Your father thought he had me buffaloed, and Chris… Chris is dead.”
Melissa gasped and twisted her hand over her mouth. “Chris, that sweet boy, is dead?”
“Somebody shot him in the back and threw his body into a herd of stampeding cows. The only way we recognized him was by his gun belt.” Jim choked up.
Melissa sobbed and put her head against Jim’s chest. She cried for a long time, not noticing the tears falling into her hair from Jim’s eyes. He gently stroked her neck and tried to soothe her.
“Jim,” she said, her voice on the verge of breaking. “Who could have done such an evil thing?”
Jim yearned to tell her the truth about her father. He wanted to tell her who he really was, and that everything was going to be fine. But he couldn’t tell her anything more without jeopardizing the whole plan. He loved this woman more than anyone he had ever known, but he despised her father and what the man was trying to do to his family. His blood was Armstrong blood. The same blood as his brother’s that now soaked the ground of the Armstrong ranch. If Jim did not succeed, the blood of his father and his own blood would join that of his brother. He had made a lot of tough decisions in his life, most of them affecting only him. What he did now would affect many people; some he despised, and some he loved.
“Jim,” said Melissa, her voice a whisper, “You don’t think my father was responsible for Chris Armstrong’s death, do you?”
Jim was ready to burst inside. “Sweetheart, I don’t know for sure who was responsible. I know your father didn’t kill Chris.” Jim hesitated too long before he spoke again.
“Jim Butler, you do think my father was involved. I can’t believe this! I confessed my love to you, and now you are calling my father a murderer. Oh, my goodness.” The distraught young woman raised her hands to her face and began to cry again.
Jim reached out and touched her arm. She jerked the arm away, and then swung it forward, slapping Jim hard across his left cheek. Just as quick as the crying began, it stopped. Melissa Quarry sprang to her feet.
“Jim Butler, take me home this instant. I will not stand here and let you accuse my father of some heinous crime. If you do not leave Two Bucks City tomorrow morning, I will tell my father what you have said tonight. And I promise you he will not be generous as to your fate.”
Jim was stunned by Melissa’s behavior. Without thinking, he reached for her hand to hel
p her back into the buggy. She slapped his hand away and scrambled up by herself. Jim walked around the rig and climbed up beside her. He shook the reins, and the horse started for home.
Fresh meat would have frozen solid had it rested between Jim and Melissa on the ride back into town. When Jim stopped the buggy in front of the Quarry home, he made no attempt to help Melissa down from the seat. She jumped off the buckboard and ran into the house. Jim sat like a statue, not watching her go. The slamming of the house’s front door signaled him she was safe inside, safe from all the bad things that could happen to a body late on a dark west Texas night. She was safe from the knowledge that her father was the most evil man in the panhandle. But most of all, she was safe from her father’s worst enemy—an enemy who loved her very much.
Chapter 16
Jim had ridden out of Two Bucks City well before dawn. He sat astride the big steel-dun mare on top of the knoll overlooking the ranch house and watched the first rays of the sun climb the horizon. He squinted as the bright ball of fire and gas rose above the far hills. Little sleep had come the night before and Jim was restless. Today he had to convince his father that his intentions were good. If the old man hated him, there was nothing he could do about it, but, for the Double-A-Slash to remain in Armstrong hands, his father had to listen to what Jim had to say. He rode down the knoll, but instead of going to the main house, he headed for the bunk house. This time he would take his friends with him.
Jim dismounted and stepped through the only door of the rough-hewn log building. The men were awake and shuffling around the room. Most were dressed and ready to head for the cook shack and breakfast. Jim spied Shank and strolled over to him.
“Rusty, I know you didn’t like that cuss,” Shank was holding forth on the subject of Val Rose, “but he’s dead and gone now, and it ain’t polite to speak bad about the dead.”
“All I said, Mr. Shank Halsey, was that the galoot was a no-good polecat, and I, for one, don’t miss his lyin’ carcass one little bit.”
“Excuse me, boys, but what are you talkin’ about?”
Shank and Rusty looked up to see Jim grinning down at them.
“Why, howdy, Badger,” said Shank. “We didn’t see you come in.”
“No, you two were jawin’ so loud, it’s a wonder anybody else in here could think.”
Both men looked at each other. His two oldest friends had been partners for over twenty years, and they couldn’t have argued more if they had been married that long. Rusty started to protest, but Jim stopped him short.
“Boys,” said Jim, serious now, “I want to try and get through to my daddy again. This time I want you two to go with me and vouch that I am Bale Armstrong, Jr.”
Jocko Lunt, who was another old-time Double-A-Slash hand, was eavesdropping on the conversation and jumped a foot in the air when Jim said he was Bale, Jr. The old puncher ambled over to Jim, scratching the three-day growth of gray whiskers scattered about his face. He walked up next to Jim and stared.
“Well, I’ll be a prairie dog’s uncle, you are Bale Armstrong, Jr.” Jocko said. “Howdy, Badger. We thought you were dead a long time ago.” He stuck out his hand. “Remember me, Jocko Lunt?”
Jim gave the old timer’s hand a vigorous shake. “Howdy, Jocko. How are you?”
“Mighty fine, now that you’re here, son, mighty fine.”
Before anyone else could speak, Jocko started yelling to the other cowboys about who was in the bunkhouse. “Say, all you ne’er-do-wells, come on over here and meet a real wampus cat on two legs, Bale Armstrong, Jr. We always called him Badger because he was so tough, and he wouldn’t never give up on nothin’ if he thought he was right.”
Shank Halsey tried to stop Jocko from letting the cat out of the bag, but Jim seized his arm and held him back.
“It’s okay,” said Jim. “The time has come for everyone to know who I am.” He faced the men who had become quiet at Jocko’s announcement. “Boys, I have gone by the name Jim Butler for more years than I care to talk about. Whatever you might have heard about me is only half true, but I ain’t gonna tell which half that is.”
The bunkhouse erupted with laughter. The crew of the Double-A-Slash needed someone with the brains to formulate a plan to save the ranch and the guts to get the job done. It didn’t take a bunch of book learning to see that Jim Butler was that man.
“My real name is Bale Armstrong, Jr. Those of you that were here when I left called me Badger. Now I answer to Jim, but Jim or Badger, either one is okay with me. Boys, I’ll make this speech short and sweet. I have come home to help save this ranch from that thieving varmint Mort Quarry and his gang of cutthroats. There is no doubt in my mind that they are responsible for my brother’s death. Now, I know some of you hands aren’t experienced fighters, and that’s okay. I’m not asking you to shoot anybody. Just keep your eyes and ears open. If you notice anything irregular, find me or Shank or Rusty or Hack over there and let us know what you saw. This is war. I don’t intend for it to last too long, and I don’t intend to lose. If you don’t like what I’m saying you can draw your pay, no questions asked. Anybody got anything to say?”
Jocko raised his hand. “Shucks, Badger,” he said, his grin revealing just six tobacco-stained teeth in his whole mouth. “We was with you when you told the boys who you were.”
Jim turned to Shank. “Well, old son, I guess it’s about time we went to see my daddy. You boys stand around me so he doesn’t cold cock me again.”
He wasn’t smiling when he said it, either. Bale Armstrong, Sr., was about as predictable as Texas weather—which wasn’t predictable at all.
Melissa Quarry yawned and stretched her sore body. She wasn’t used to sitting on the ground for such a long time as she had the previous night. She stood at the kitchen stove making toast on a newfangled toast-making machine that had recently arrived from St. Louis.
When the bread reached the desired shade of brown, Melissa opened the hinged wires with a pot holder and placed the two slices of bread on a plate. She was looking for the butter when she noticed her father outside the back door. He was in heated conversation with Dude Miller.
“Dude, are you absolutely positive about this?” Her daddy looked upset.
“Yes, sir, ain’t no doubt about it. I seen the Armstrong boy’s body with my own eyes. Mordecai Burns, the undertaker, showed it to me. He said Doc Withers told him he pulled a .45 slug out of the boy’s head.”
“Somebody was smart enough to get the doctor to do an autopsy on the body. Now they know he didn’t die in the stampede.”
“What are we gonna do, boss?”
Mort Quarry ran his thumb and index finger down his chin. “Dude, I want you to round up the Irish Kid and a couple of the other boys. After dark tonight, send them over to Doc Withers’ office. I don’t want the good doctor flapping his gums anymore about how the Armstrong boy died. Tell the Kid to silence the doctor for good.”
“What about old Mordecai? You want us to clean his plow, too?”
Mort thought for a minute. “No, just put the fear of the devil in him.” He smiled. “Doctors come a dime a dozen, but good morticians are hard to come by. And, besides, I believe the Armstrong bunch will be needing his services right soon.”
Dude nodded his head and sauntered away. Mort Quarry started to head for his office but changed his mind and reached for the knob to the kitchen door. His abrupt change of direction startled Melissa and she dropped the bowl of butter she held in her hand. The crockery bowl clattered to the floor, shattering into a dozen pieces; butter flew everywhere.
“Oh, my!’ she said.
Quarry opened the door just in time to see the bowl hit the hardwood floor. He jumped back, barely missing being hit with flying butter. Melissa was on her knees picking up pieces of the bowl before he could speak.
“What on earth, child?” he said. “How did this happen?” He wond
ered if his daughter had heard the conversation with his segundo. If she was eavesdropping, he would find out.
“Oh, Father! I was getting ready to butter my toast and it slipped from my hand. When I grabbed for it, I dropped the butter. I am so sorry.” Melissa scrambled around on her knees picking up the crockery shards.
Mort Quarry reached down and grasped his daughter’s arm. His grip was firmer than it had to be as he lifted her to her feet. He held her by both arms and lowered his head until they were eye to eye.
“Melissa, I have a feeling you overheard my conversation with Dude.”
The frightened girl tried to protest, but Mort Quarry’s grip was like iron.
“I will tell you this one time, young lady. Whatever I do, I do it for you. Do you understand me?”
She nodded her head in silence.
“Good. Now someday you will own the largest land and cattle empire in West Texas. That will be my legacy to you. I will do whatever it takes to make this happen. Some of the things I do, you may not comprehend for a while, but someday when you reap the rewards of my efforts you will understand. All I ask of you is your trust. Do you trust me to do the right thing?”
She nodded again.
“Sweetheart, do not speak to anyone about what you heard today. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Father.”
Mort Quarry released his grip on Melissa’s arms and hugged her to his body. “Oh, my darling, I knew you would understand. I love you very much.”
“I love you, Father,” she said.
Chapter 17
Maria opened the door to find Jim Butler and his friends standing there. “Señor Armstrong,” she said, bowing her head. “I have been expecting you.”
“How did you know I would be here today, Maria?” asked Jim.
“Shoot fire, Badger,” said Rusty. “Ain’t much this lady don’t know about. She’s one of them curanderas. They say they talk to spirits, got the evil eye, and such like that.”
