Blood Valley

by William W. Johnstone

  He squalled like a stuck hog and grabbed for his gun; but I was ready for that. Sidestepping, I jerked off my hat and hit his horse smack in the face with it. That horse reared up and Stan took him a backwards tumble right out of the saddle. Without lookin’ back to see who was doin’ it, I heard the sounds of hammers bein’ eared back and seen Cledus and Luther stiffen in the saddle.

  Stan was just gettin’ to his feet when I reached him. Drawin’ back, I knocked him flat on his butt on the ground. He hit hard and swallered his chew. Man, you never heard such hackin’ and coughin’ and spittin’ and cussin’ in all your life. He wound down with, “You gawddam two-bit, tinhorn, no-good badge-totin’, piss-ant!” Then he got to his feet once more.

  I slugged him again, smack on the side of his long jaw. His eyes was rollin’ back in his head as he was fallin’ bassackwards. He was out cold when he finally hit the ground.

  “Arrest him, Burtell. Tie him acrost his saddle and chunk him in the bucket.”

  “On what charge?” Cledus squalled.

  “Threatenin’ the life of a peace officer. You wanna join him in the pokey?”

  “You bastard!” Cledus yelled. “By Gawd, Pickens, we’ll git you.”

  I reached up and jerked him out of the saddle, tossin’ his bony butt to the ground.

  “Arrest him, too,” I told Burtell. “Stick ’em both in the bucket.”

  “With pleasure, Sheriff.” Burtell reached down and jerked Cledus’ guns out of leather.

  “Has you gone slap-dab crazy with that there badge?” Luther hollered. “You keep on and I ain’t gonna have nobody to drink with!”

  “You would if you’d take a bath ever’ now and then. Howsomever, I could stick you in the pokey with your brothers. How about that, Luther?”

  “You post the bond, Pickens, and I’ll come bail ’em out.” He spurred his horse and was gone at a gallop, headin’ for the nearest saloon.

  Stan and Cledus on the way to the lockup, the dead toted off, and the wounded in the clinic, I asked Pritcher. “What’s this county meetin’ all about anyways?”

  “I am sorry to say that I just became aware of it, Sheriff. But I am certain the ramifications of it will be awesome. Don’t you agree?”

  I blinked. “Yeah. Took the words right out of my mouth.”

  There must have been at least five or six hundred people livin’ in the county, and from the looks of things, all of them was in town for the meetin’.

  I had time for a bath behind Wong’s place and a change of clothes. Pepper had left word that she would meet me at the office at four-thirty; we’d walk to the arena together. I had just straightened my kerchief and plopped my hat on my head when she walked into the office.

  She come straight to me and put her arms around my waist. “I’m scared, Cotton.”

  And she wasn’t kiddin’ none. I could feel her tremblin’ as she pushed close to me. “What’s the matter, Pepper?”

  She pulled back and looked up at me, her blues all misty with little-bitty tears. “You really don’t know what this county meeting is all about, do you, Cotton?”

  “I ain’t got a clue.”

  She walked around the office for a few seconds. “Well, Lee Jones and the others are meeting to map out plans to start a company of irregulars to police the valley.”

  “Irr-what?”

  “It’s an army, Cotton.”

  “An army!”

  “Yes. It’s a military-type group of men, with a couple of officers and sergeants and stuff like that. Just like a regular company of cavalry. Jeff overheard some men talking the other day and told us about it. Father thought they were only pipe-dreaming; that’s why he didn’t send someone in right away to inform you of it. Dad only found out the validity of it this morning.”

  I understood most of what she said. Enough to know I didn’t like none of it. Things like these here irregulars might look good on paper, but put into practice, they don’t hardly ever work out. What it boils down to is that they ain’t nothin’ but vigilantes, and oftentimes they get to the point—if they didn’t start out thataway—where they ain’t no better than the people they’re fightin’.

  I said as much and then waited for Pepper’s reaction.

  She smiled at me. She was lovely, with the sunlight pourin’ in through the window, sparklin’ in her honey-blond hair. “That’s exactly what Father said you would say.”

  “You got any idea who’s gonna be headin’ up this bunch of irregulars?”

  “A most unlikely candidate, at first glance,” Rolf Baker said, steppin’ into the office. “I’m sorry, I was not eavesdropping intentionally. The door was open and I could not help overhearing your conversation.”

  “That’s all right, Mister Baker. What do you mean, a most unlikely candidate?”

  “The Reverend Sam Dolittle.”

  “Say . . . what?”

  “Believe it or not, but it’s true, the preacher was a Union cavalry officer during the war between the states. Don’t sell him short on bravery, Cotton. But the problem is, the man is a fanatic.”

  Then I recalled his words out at the shanty. It began to fit. “What’s that fanatic-thing mean?”

  “That the Reverend Dolittle is not a reasonable man on certain issues.”

  “Oh! All right. You mean he might go off the deep end and do something real stupid?”

  “Precisely, Cotton. Fanatics, on either side of an issue, can be quite cruel and savage. That’s something I would not like to see in this valley.”

  “Yeah, me neither.” As if I didn’t have enough to worry about, now this. But I had to say, “In a way, I don’t blame the people for formin’ up like this. But I don’t like it at all.”

  We started towards the rock arena, walkin’ slow. Since near’bouts the whole town was gonna be there, I had assigned the deputies to keep watch on the town.

  We walked, me and Rolf in the front, Pepper and her ma behind us. Rolf said, “Cotton, what are your feelings on Matt Mills?”

  Jeff had joined us. “I don’t know, Mister Baker. Sometimes I get the feelin’ that he don’t want all this trouble. Then at other times, I’m thinkin’ that he’s a greedy, uppity man who wants to be king of the whole valley—and ever’body in it to be his slaves and bow down to him. A.J., well, he’s just a bastard. Excuse me, ladies.”

  Pepper laughed and her mother shook her head. “We came out here together, you know,” Rolf spoke softly. “Years ago. Three adventurous young men. We all left substantial wealth behind us. And our families virtually disowned us all. There were no white people in this valley when we came here.”

  “Yes, sir. I know.”

  “I hate to say this, Cotton. The three of us having been through so much together . . . but I don’t believe Matt is sane. A.J. is, or has changed into, a vain, greedy, and ruthless man. But Matt . . .” He give out a long sigh. “Matt is . . . well, disturbed.”

  “Nuts, you mean.”

  Rolf, he smiled sort of thin-like. “Well, I suppose you could phrase it like that.”

  I seen Brother Jack loungin’ in front of the hotel. Haltin’ the parade up the boardwalk, I said, “Y’all want to meet my brother, Jack Crow?”

  “Are you serious?” Martha asked, lookin’ all around her.

  “Yes’um.” I waved to Jack, signaling him to come on and join us.

  He walked slow toward us. I got to admit, he struck a handsome figure. But his walk was pure gunfighter. More of a stalk than a walk.

  “Nice-looking chap,” Rolf observed.

  “Yes,” his wife agreed. “And there is a strong family resemblance there, Cotton.”

  “And it ends right there, ma’am. Jack is as crazy as a bessie-bug.”

  Pepper stepped up and touched me on the arm. “Why is he here, Cotton? Your brother, I mean.”

  “To kill me.”

  She gasped and her pa said, “By the Lord, Cotton! You can’t mean that! The man is your brother, after all.”

  “That don’t m
ean nothin’ to Jack. I told you, he’s plumb loco. When he gets closer, look in his eyes. That’ll tell the whole story.”

  By then, he was up to us. I introduced ever’body all around, endin’ with, “Brother Jack, this is my fee-ancy, Miss Pepper.”

  Jack, he eyeballed Pepper, an odd look in his cold, snakey eyes. Then he looked at me. “You done yourself proud, Brother Cotton. Pepper Pickens. Kind of a nice ring to it. I sure do hope the weddin’ comes off without no hitches.”

  “What do you mean, Jack?”

  That cold smile from him. “Well, Brother, you’re in a dangerous sort of job. Anythin’ might happen up or down the line. Now, if you was to quit totin’ that star around and take up ranchin’ or farmin’, well, that might change matters just a whole lot.” Without changin’ expression, he added, “If you get my drift.”

  I met him look for look. “Oh, I get it all right, Jack. But you know me . . . when I start a job of work, I tend to see it right through to the end. Remember?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I do. Pa could always count on you to do your chores like a good little boy. Well, I was in hopes you’d grown out of that. That don’t make my job a bit easier. And I think you know it. Ladies.” He tipped his hat.

  “Mister Crow,” they said in unison.

  “Gentlemen,” Jack said to us, and then he walked away. He sure had him a fine-lookin’ set of matched .45s. Fancy, pearl-handled guns.

  “What was he trying to say to you, Cotton?” Pepper asked, her hands on her hips.

  I sighed. “Well, I reckon you could say he was tellin’ me to quit sheriffin’ or he was gonna have to kill me. That’s the way I took it.”

  “Surely, surely,” Rolf said, “you have to be mistaken.”

  “I don’t think so, sir.”

  “His eyes are frightening,” Martha said, her voice low.

  “Yes’um.”

  “Snake eyes,” Jeff spoke up. “It’s like looking into the eyes of a rattler.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “Just before he strikes.”

  Chapter Two

  “The situation in the valley has become intolerable,” the Reverend Sam Dolittle thundered, his voice booming and bouncing all around the natural amphitheater, touching all there. “If civilized behavior is ever to come to this little paradise on earth, we—the citizens—are going to have to take a stand against the forces of darkness. Those evil men who lurk about us, tails and horns hidden from mortal eyes, those men who wish to enslave us with their greed and ruthlessness and heathenistic behavior.”

  Sermon time agin.

  “I am but a simple peaceful man,” Dolittle lowered his head dramatically, “but even peaceful men sometimes reach a point where they must step out of the white robes of friendship and compassion and lay aside the plow for the sword.”

  Buckle on and tie down and drag iron, I reckon he meant.

  “Yes!” he thundered. “They must gird their loins for confrontation.”

  I didn’t have no idea what he just said, but it sounded plumb uncomfortable to me.

  I looked around when the preacher paused to take him a long gulp of water and pull in some breath. I met the eyes of Johnny Bull, standin’ across the pit from me. He smiled and touched the brim of his hat. I done the same. Like me, Johnny, he knowed the time for talk was just about up. From now on, it was down to the nut-cuttin’.

  The Rev, he droned on and on, gettin’ present-day troubles in the valley all mixed up with biblical quotations . . . and gettin’ a good many folks all stirred up, too. Now, in the valley and in the arena, there was some folks who had formed up a different type of church than what most believed in. These folks claimed to sometimes get in the spirit so deep that they get to talkin’ in tongues and communicatin’ with the higher-up spirits . . . up yonder, in the sky. De Graff, he said his sister joined one of them churches and was a different person afterwards. And I figured that if the Reverend Dolittle got them folks stirred up, that would be a sight to behold. Right unforgettable.

  And Lordy, Lordy, but there was some gunslicks ever’-where you was to look. I touched glances with Waldo Stamps and Tanner Smith. Then I met the eyes and the ugliness of Injun Tom Johnson. And right over there was Nimrod, standin’ with Ike Burdette and Tulsa Jack. Not ten feet away from them was Miss Maggie and Miss Jean, with their hands with them. Little Jack Bagwell, he had climbed up on a flat rock so’s he could see what was goin’ on. Big Mike was there, with his eyes hardly ever leavin’ Pepper.

  “Wahooo!” someone shouted, and I like to have jumped out of my boots. “Praise the Lord and load up the guns, brothers and sisters!”

  I figured right off the bat that he was about to get in the spirit.

  The woman with him, she raised her arms up over her head and shouted, “I feel it! I feel it! It’s touching me! Praise the Lord!”

  I craned my neck to see just who was feelin’ her. But I couldn’t spot nothin’. Made me kinda eerie feelin’.

  “We must band together and fight!” Dolittle hollered. “We must rise up and slay the dragon of evil and raise the banner of decency and righteousness. We must kill the many-headed dragon before his evil numbers drag us all down into the pits. And if in doing so the valley runs red with blood, then so be it!”

  “Wahoo!” a woman screamed. “Ughum booum washin’ clock-bock!”

  “What the hell did she say?” I whispered to Pepper.

  “Hush, Cotton!” she shushed me.

  When I looked agin, that woman had passed out and was layin’ on the ground, her man just a fannin’ her with his hat to beat sixty.

  “I have prayed mightily, friends. And I have fasted long. In my mind I have walked through the shadows of the valley of death, with evil all around me . . . and I have spoken with the Lord. He has instructed me to pick up the sword and smite my enemies, smite them both hip and thigh.”

  Now, as for me, I had to draw the line at smitin’ somebody on the hip and thigh. I never saw no sense in doin’ that. I always found it best to just shoot them and be done with it. Damn a bunch of hip-smitin’ and thigh-smackin’.

  And right then, in the middle of a bunch of men and women gettin’ in the spirit and shoutin’ in tongues, the Reverend Sam Dolittle, he lit the fuse on the keg of powder.

  He pointed a long finger straight at A.J. and Matt. “There is the evil,” he squalled. “There they stand, with all their smugness and conceit and plans for endless human suffering. Right there stand Satan’s cohorts—the destroyers!”

  Lawyer Stokes got to jumping’ up and down and flappin’ his arms. “On behalf of Misters Mills and Lawrence, I’ll sue you for slander, Preacher!”

  “Then sue and be damned!” Dolittle roared. “And damn your black heart to the burning, smoking pits of hell, you Godless heathen! You consort of the wicked, you cohort of the Prince of Darkness, you purveyor of wickedness and debaser of morals and truth and light. Damn you!”

  Man, I was lovin’ it! I stood there just grinning’ like a fool. Damn, but this was gettin’ better and better. I always did like a good hellfire and brimstone and hand-clappin’, singin’, shoutin’ service. I looked over at Johnny Bull. He was grinnin’ just as big as me and I seen him wink and laugh.

  One kinda large lady, she all of a sudden got the spirit flung on her and she commenced to speakin’ in tongues, doin’ a pretty good buck-and-wing and two-step as she was shoutin’ .

  “Frickin’ and frackin’ and jukin’ at the jim-jam!” she hollered.

  That wasn’t exactly what she said, but that’s about as close as I can come to repeatin’ any of it.

  “Sister Lorene is in the spirit!” a man hollered. “Hallelujah, sister.”

  My early churchgoin’ got the better of me. “Yeah, sister, hallelujah!” I was clappin’ my hands and pattin’ my feet until Pepper gave me a good poke in the ribs and a dark look. I straightened right up and acted sheriffly again.

  The Reverend Dolittle and A.J. Lawrence was still hollerin’ and yellin’ at each other, over the di
n of tongues and hand-clappin’.

  “You can’t say those kinds of things about me!” A.J. hollered. He waved his cigar in the air. “I’ll see you in a court of law, preacher!”

  “You cigar-suckin’ sinner!” Dolittle fired back. “There is a stink in this place this evening; the smell of evil. And it is emanating from you!” He pointed.

  I didn’t know what emanatin’ meant, but it sounded nasty to me.

  Another lady got all up in the spirit and began dancin’ and prancin’ around, speakin’ in strange tongues. “Froggie in the cloggin’ bottom sittin’ in the mud!”

  Or something close to that.

  Then she just passed plumb out, falling backwards and landin’ on her ampleness, her dress all hiked up.

  “Sister Abigail!” another lady admonished her. “Cover yourself!”

  “Her drawers is showin’,” a man yelled.

  ’Bout fifty people, mostly men, went rushin’ over there. But they was too late for any sightseein’. Sister Abigail had done jerked her dresstail down. But her eyes was still all walled back in her head and she was stiff as a board.

  Now, I got a little suspicious of that. If the good lady was all caught up in the spirit, seems like to me that it wouldn’t make no difference what was showin’ if she was passed out.

  But I reckon that ain’t for me to say.

  ’Bout a dozen sodbusters, they formed up a line and set to singin’ and shoutin’ and praisin’ the Lord in song.

  Dolittle was still rantin’ and ravin’. “The good people of this valley shall form an army of the Lord and drive the evil to the brink, like lemmings to the sea.”

  “To hell with you!” A.J. shouted.

  Ol’ Matt shouted, “Form your goddamned army.” He shook his fist at the preacher.

  The voices overpowered him. “Bringing in the sheaves, bringing in the sheaves . . .”

  “Any of you bastards set foot on Rockinghorse land and I’ll . . .”

  “. . . we shall come rejoicing, bringing in the . . .”

  “. . . see your butts hangin’ from the nearest . . .”

  “. . . sheaves.”

  “. . . tree limb, you god . . .”