by Steve Hayes
‘Reckon it would be too late even if you did hire a lawyer,’ Mr McNally said glumly. ‘I hear Stadtlander’s already got geologists and miners digging for copper in Greenwater Canyon.’
A pall settled over the picnic table. No one even bothered to flick the flies away from the food.
Then suddenly Mr Bartlett banged his fist on the table, rattling plates and silverware. ‘Dammit, quit acting like a bunch of quitters,’ he yelled. ‘We ain’t sodbusters or squatters. We bought our land fair and legal.’
‘And we may lose it the same way,’ Mr Idlebauch said.
‘Not me,’ said Mr Bartlett. ‘I’ll die afore I let anyone steal our ranch.’
‘That’s mighty brave talk, Roy,’ Mrs Deutsch said. ‘But just how are you and your sons going to fight off twenty or thirty armed men?’
‘Same way we fought off Apaches ten years ago – with lead.’ He turned to Lawless, who hadn’t spoken since lunch began, and said, ‘Joey says you’re the best he’s ever seen with a gun. You willing to throw in with us against Stadtlander?’
‘You’ve no right to involve Ben in our problems,’ Ingrid said before Lawless could answer. ‘This isn’t his fight. He doesn’t live here. Doesn’t even have a stake in what’s happened. Why should he risk his life for us? His future’s in Arizona.’
‘Maybe so,’ Mr Bartlett said stubbornly. ‘But I’m asking him just the same. And I’d like your answer,’ he added to Lawless.
Lawless looked at the hardy, weathered faces looking expectantly at him around the table. They were the faces of pioneers, settlers, men and woman who had faced savage Indians, death, and ungodly conditions in wagon trains rolling through untamed country without complaint. They had survived against impossible odds and Lawless admired their courage and resourcefulness. He knew that without them most of the Southwest would be nothing but wasteland and lawlessness. But he, too, was a survivor and he had no intention of fighting for them. Turning to Mr Bartlett, he said: ‘I don’t know what else Joey told you about me, but if he gave you the impression that my gun’s for hire, he misled you. I’m a wrangler, not a shootist.’
‘Then you won’t help us?’
‘No.’
Mr Bartlett sighed, resigned to his fate, and turned to his wife. ‘It’s getting late, Mother,’ he said. ‘Time we headed home.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Lawless loaded the heavy trunk on to the wagon, wiped the sweat from his face with his sleeve and climbed on to the box-seat next to Ingrid and Raven. Two weeks had passed since Sven’s burial and this morning he was driving the Morgans to the station at Santa Rosa so they could catch a train to San Francisco and from there a connection to Denver, where they would be met by their aunt and uncle.
‘Now you’re sure you’ve got everything,’ Ingrid said to Violet and Joey who sat in back with their belongings. ‘We don’t want to get halfway there and have to turn back because you’ve forgotten something. You’ll miss your train.’
‘How could we forget anything?’ Joey grumbled. ‘Most everything we owned went up in smoke.’
‘Quit talking like that!’ Violet snapped. ‘I told you before. Thanks to Aunt Sara and Uncle Dill, we got a chance to start over. We’re going to live in a fine big house, a much finer and bigger house than we had here, with people who love us. You should be grateful, not complaining.’
‘If they love us,’ Joey said, ‘why’d they take so long to answer your wire? It only takes a few seconds to get there.’
Ingrid had wondered the same thing but she refused to let herself or the Morgans dwell on it. ‘That’s only to the telegraph operator,’ she said. ‘Who knows how long it took after that. Denver’s a big town and your aunt and uncle may live a long way from the office.’
‘They got horses there, don’t they?’ Raven said.
‘Of course they have horses,’ her mother said. ‘What’s that got to do with it?’
‘Everything. I never been to Denver, but I bet it don’t take more a day at most to ride to the other side of town. That means it took twelve days for them to decide if they loved Vi and Joey enough to invite them to stay.’
‘Raven’s right,’ Joey said to his sister. ‘I told you before. They hate us. They’ve always hated us.’
‘Nonsense,’ Ingrid said. ‘Your family is very close and very loving. I’ve heard your father say so, many times. Besides,’ she added, giving Raven a ‘be quiet’ look, ‘it snows in Denver. Very heavily, I’ve read. And sometimes for days at a time.’
‘That’s right,’ Violet said. ‘Aunt Sara once sent Pa a letter saying they’d been snowed-in for more than two weeks.’
‘Which means she and your Uncle Dill decided they wanted you with them almost right away.’
That seemed to placate Joey. He leaned back against the trunk, pulled his cap down to shield his eyes from the sun and dozed off.
The wagon rolled on.
After a mile or so, Raven peered around her mother at Lawless. ‘Ever been to Denver?’
‘Nope. Never have.’
‘Then you don’t know if it snows there in summer?’
It was summer now and Lawless frowned, wondering why Raven was determined to upset Joey. ‘I do as a matter of fact. A fella I know, who grew up in the goldfields north of Sacramento, told me that Denver was so high in the mountains it snowed there all year round.’
Raven sighed, disappointed, and fell silent.
The next time she spoke, they had reached the train station on the outskirts of Santa Rosa and Lawless was unloading Violet and Joey’s belongings. He’d thought he was alone, Ingrid having gone into the station house with Violet and Joey to buy their tickets to Denver via San Francisco. But then Raven peered around the side of the wagon at him, saying: ‘This fella you once knew – what’s his name?’
‘That’s my business,’ Lawless said.
‘I knew it!’ Raven said triumphantly. ‘There ain’t no such fella. You just made him up to make Joey feel better.’
‘No,’ Lawless said. ‘He exists all right.’
‘Then why won’t you tell me his name?’
‘Why’d you want Joey to feel like he wasn’t wanted?’
‘’Cause he made me kiss him once and I’ve hated him ever since.’
‘Some girls would be flattered that he wanted to kiss them at all.’
‘Well, I ain’t some girls. Now,’ Raven added, ‘you going to tell me that fella’s name or not?’ When he didn’t answer, she said disgustedly, ‘Grownups! You’re all the same. You want me to trust you, but when it comes time for you to trust me, oh no, that’s a different kettle of stew.’
Lawless knew he was pinned. Resting his boot atop one of boxes, he gave Raven a long hard look and said, ‘His name is Moonlight. Gabriel Moonlight.’
‘’Mean the shootist who works for Mr Stadtlander?’
‘The same.’
Raven gaped, eyes saucers. ‘Goshawmighty, when’d you meet him?’
‘A long time ago. His father was a Bible thumper in the gold camps. Gabe got tired of listening to the gospel and ran off when he was about fourteen or fifteen. He was fast with a gun even then and from what he told me, always on the prod. Getting into trouble all the time kept him on the run and eventually, after doing two years in Yuma Prison, he ended up here and went to work for Stadtlander.’
‘And you’n him and Latigo all rode together?’
‘For a spell, yeah. But that was a long time ago. I haven’t seen Gabe for years.’ He could have added that Will Lawless also rode with them but he didn’t. He knew just the mention of his outlaw cousin would stir up questions he wasn’t willing to answer.
Raven whistled, impressed. ‘Latigo Rawlins and Gabriel Moonlight – Sweet Mary, I sure would’ve liked to have seen people’s faces when you three rode into town.’ She waited, hoping he’d tell her some exciting stories. When he didn’t, she added, ‘Can I ask you one more question?’
‘Can ask. Don’t say I’ll answer it.’
>
‘How come they’re still gunfighters on the prod and you ain’t?’
Lawless shrugged. ‘Life’s a matter of choices, sprout. I didn’t always make the right ones … then this happened.’ He pulled down his shirt collar, revealing the top of his scar. ‘Nothing like getting hanged to change your way of thinking. Figured I was living on borrowed time and been riding clean ever since. Now’ – he ruffled her shiny black hair fondly – ‘quit yapping and help me carry these boxes to the station.’
The train came and went, taking Violet and Joey with it. Ingrid shed a few tears, which seemed to irritate Raven, but managed to collect herself by the time she, Raven and Lawless had walked back to the wagon.
There, in the shade of the station house, three men stood waiting for Lawless. Two were deputies holding 10-gauge shotguns, the other, Sheriff Thorpe, was smiling like he’d been dealt a royal flush.
‘Guess you didn’t take my warning serious,’ he said to Lawless. ‘Well, so be it. You’re under arrest.’
‘For what?’
‘Take your pick.’ The sheriff held up a wanted poster. The face printed on it resembled Lawless, but the name above it was: Will Lawless. Wanted for murder, robbery, kidnapping – $10,000 – Dead or Alive!
‘That’s not me,’ Lawless said. ‘That’s my cousin, Will.’
The sheriff rolled his eyes. ‘Sure it is … and I bet your uncle’s John Wesley Hardin.’ He laughed at his own joke and the deputies joined in.
‘It’s the truth,’ said Ingrid. ‘His first name is Ben, not Will. Ask around. Anybody who was at my husband’s funeral will tell you.’
Momentarily deflated, Sheriff Thorpe refused to back down. ‘Just ’cause he tells everyone his name’s Ben, Mrs Bjorkman, don’t mean his real name ain’t Will. Lots of outlaws use aliases to keep one jump ahead of the law.’
‘How about another lawman?’ Lawless said. ‘Would you believe his word?’
‘Depends on the lawman.’
‘Sheriff Tishman, over at Borega Springs.’
Sheriff Thorpe frowned, surprised. ‘You know Buck Tishman?’
Lawless nodded.
‘Then you must know who put him in office?’
‘I can guess – Stillman Stadtlander.’
‘Do you also know that Sheriff Tishman almost got his foot blowed off by—’
‘Latigo Rawlins, yeah, I was there.’
‘If you know that, mister, what makes you think Sheriff Tishman would help you, a man who’s caused him and his benefactor nothing but grief?’
‘Telegraph him and find out,’ Lawless said.
‘I’ll do that,’ Sheriff Thorpe said. ‘Meanwhile, unbuckle your gun-belt. You’re going to jail.’
‘You can’t arrest him,’ Ingrid protested. ‘Ben’s innocent.’
‘Not according to this poster, Mrs Bjorkman.’
‘It’s OK,’ Lawless assured her. ‘Sheriff Tishman will straighten things out. Here’ – he unbuckled his gunbelt and handed it to her – ‘keep this for me.’ Before she could argue, he locked his hands behind his head and surrendered to the two deputies.
Sheriff Thorpe tipped his hat to Ingrid, then he and the deputies escorted Lawless into town.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
It was stiflingly hot in the cell. Even the buzzing flies seemed sluggish in the unrelenting heat.
Noon melted into late afternoon. Sunlight still poured in through the tiny barred window forming shadowy stripes on the opposite adobe wall.
Lawless lay on the hard wooden cot, his buttoned, sweat-soaked shirt clinging to his skin, calmly smoking and trying to ignore the heat and the flies as he wondered how long it would be before Sheriff Tishman arrived. Having made the ride himself he knew it was less than forty miles to Borega Springs. Even in the relentless summer heat it shouldn’t take the lawman more than two days to reach Santa Rosa.
That’s if he comes at all, a voice said in Lawless’s mind. Of course he’ll come, Lawless thought. Why wouldn’t he? The sheriff owes me his life. He’s obliged to come. I know that, the voice said, and I’m sure he will. All I’m asking is what if he doesn’t? But he’s got to. Yes, yes, I know he’s got to, the voice said, but what if he doesn’t? What if he decides he doesn’t owe you a damned thing and never comes? What will you do then?
The answer arrived sooner than he expected. Lawless heard voices in the office and moments later, the door to the cells was unlocked and a man entered. Waiting for the deputy to lock the door behind him, the man then swaggered up to Lawless’s cell and grinned through the bars at him.
‘Well, if this ain’t frosty treat,’ he said. ‘The great Will Lawless locked up like a rat in a cage.’
Lawless ignored him and went on smoking.
Slade Stadtlander tauntingly fanned his fingers back and forth across the bars. ‘How’s it feel knowing you’re ’bout to get your neck stretched?’
Lawless exhaled a stream of smoke and watched it spiraling toward the ceiling. ‘If Daddy sent you here to deliver a message, Sonny, spit it out and then scat. You’re fouling up the air.’
‘This message ain’t from Pa,’ Slade said, ‘it’s from Sheriff Tishman. ’Course, if you don’t want to hear it.…’
Lawless got up and came to the bars. ‘Let me see it.’
Slade took out a slip of paper, unfolded it and pressed it against the bars so Lawless could read the message. Meanwhile he said mockingly, ‘Big Buck sends his regrets … but seems his sister in El Paso’s taken sick of a sudden and poor ol’ Buck, why he’s so worried about her he jumped right on a train and went to hold her hand.’
The actual telegraph message wasn’t so elaborate. It read: SHERIFF TISHMAN GONE TO EL PASO STOP VISITING AILING SISTER STOP NO IDEA WHEN HE WILL RETURN STOP DEPUTY LONNIE DAVIS.
Lawless, remembering the sheriff saying he had no brothers or sisters, guessed that Stadtlander was behind the lawman’s hasty departure and felt an icy hand grip his stomach.
‘What’s the matter?’ Slade taunted. ‘Feel that noose tightening?’
‘There’re others who can vouch for me,’ Lawless said. ‘Men I once rode with.’
‘Don’t count on it, Mr Gunfighter. When it comes to standing up against my pa folks have a habit of losing their memories.’
‘Not the men I’m thinking of.’
Slade smirked. ‘Wouldn’t be talking about Latigo Rawlins and Gabe Moonlight, would you? ’Cause if you are, I got more bad news for you. Both of them have left the territory. You don’t believe me?’ he added, as Lawless looked dubious. ‘Then maybe this’ll convince you: soon as Pa found out Rawlins had shot Buck Tishman in the foot at the Morgan place, he cut him loose. No one’s seen Shorty since.’
‘That still leaves Gabe. Your father would never cut him loose. He loves him like a son.’
‘Wrong again. Pa caught him dealing from the bottom of the deck the other night. Wasn’t the first time, either. So Pa gave him the boot. ’Course, Gabe didn’t take kindly to that after all these years and to pay Pa back, stole his favorite stallion, Brandy. Some of the boys are out looking for him right now.’
The icy hand in Lawless’s stomach gripped even tighter.
‘Get Sheriff Thorpe,’ he said. ‘I want to talk to him.’
‘Be happy to.’ Slade turned, took a step then looked back at Lawless. ‘One last thing,’ he said, gloating, ‘Pa’s going to fix it so I’m the one who whips the horse out from under you. Can’t tell you how much I’m going to enjoy that.’
Ingrid was allowed to bring supper to Lawless that night. After checking her basket to make sure there wasn’t a gun or a knife hidden under the food, the deputy ushered her into the cell area. One look at her pale, tight-lipped face and Lawless knew she’d heard he was slated to hang.
‘It’s all over town,’ she said, as she passed the food through the bars. ‘Raven and I are spending the night with our friends, the Melvins, and all day long customers in their store were talking about it. I tried to tell them that you we
ren’t lying – that you really weren’t the outlaw Will Lawless – but I’m afraid most of them didn’t believe me. And even the few who did weren’t willing to come forward and tell the sheriff.’
‘You can’t blame them,’ Lawless said. ‘They know what Stadtlander is capable of.’
‘I do indeed,’ said Ingrid. ‘Mr Melvin has heard rumors that Mr Stadtlander plans to block any attempt I make to hire a geologist or contact a mining company to see who would finance the digging for copper in Greenwater Canyon. Of course, I don’t have the money to hire anyone anyway, but it does show you how ruthless he can be.’
Lawless nodded. ‘I wish I knew someone who could help you,’ he said wistfully. ‘But the people of wealth I once knew lost everything during the Civil War.’
Ingrid eyed him curiously. ‘Is that where you’re from – the South?’
Lawless nodded and looked away, unwilling to discuss his past. Biting into a leg of cold fried chicken, he nodded approvingly. ‘Mmmm, this is sure mighty tasty.’
‘I don’t know how you can eat at a time like this,’ Ingrid said. ‘I surely couldn’t.’
‘Yet you still brought me supper.’
‘I was afraid the sheriff might not let me see you otherwise.’
‘Why not? I haven’t been convicted of anything yet. First there has to be a trial and—’ He paused as he saw her frown, then said: ‘If you’ve heard something different, tell me.’
Ingrid hesitated, not sure if she should tell him. ‘It was Raven, not me,’ she said finally. ‘She heard two deputies talking as they went into the Las Flores—’
‘Cally Sage’s cantina?’
‘Yes. Do you know her?’
‘Some,’ he said guardedly. Then: ‘What did the deputies say?’
‘That Slade had told them you weren’t going to live long enough for a trial.’
