by Jory Sherman
HOYT SLOWLY EASED THE HAMMER OF HIS PISTOL back down to half-cock. The look of contempt on his face remained fixed, as if frozen there.
“Move it, Brand,” he said. “Through that door. You know where your cell is.”
Hoyt waggled the pistol at Jed.
Jed opened the hall door and entered the cell block. Hoyt followed right behind him. The cell was open and Jed went inside. Hoyt pulled the door closed, took keys from his pocket and locked it. He holstered his pistol.
There were two men, presumably drunks, sleeping it off on the bunks.
“You got some company, Brand. Two Texas cowboys from Fort Worth. You boys are all alike. No respect for the law, a pack of drunks.”
“What law, Hoyt? Yours? I didn’t commit any crime.”
“Haw. You’re nothin’ but a murderin’ bastard. We hear you killed two more men in Junction City, one of them the sheriff. You’ll swing at the end of a manila rope for those murders, too. Hell, we might even swing you twice.”
Jed turned away. Hoyt’s hatred of him was so thick he could almost touch it. He found a bunk, sat down on it.
He lowered his head so he didn’t have to look at the jailer. He was tired. His entire body ached from sleeping in the wagon. Light from a streetlamp sprayed through the window like a golden mist. Somewhere down the street a dog barked. One of the drunks was snoring.
He heard footsteps and when he looked up again, Hoyt was gone. A moment later, the door to the office slammed shut and he heard a key turn in the lock. He lay down on the bunk, folded an arm across his eyes and closed them. The cell reeked with the nostril-stinging stench of vomit, urine, and human sweat. Jed tried to ignore the smells and just drift off to sleep. But, though he was exhausted, his thoughts raged on like a millrace in the middle of a quiet stream.
Abilene. It seemed to be a curse for Jed. And for many others who came there. Like the two cowhands who shared his cell. Was it the end of the trail for him? He seemed unable to escape the gravity of this place where the first gun down had occurred. He felt swept up in some evil vortex that swirled at his legs and sucked him down into the depths of a maelstrom, unable to swim away, but tumbling and flailing his arms uselessly, kicking his legs like a galvanized frog and going back and forth between a rock and a hard place.
Finally, Jed sank into sleep, with none of his problems resolved, none of his questions answered.
The next morning a guard called Shorty came and let the two sobered cowboys out. Jed never did learn their names. Again, he was left alone until Shorty brought him coffee and a plate of stale beans, cornmeal mush, and rancid sausage that he couldn’t swallow.
Around eight-thirty that morning, Bear River Smith looked in on him, but never said a word. He just walked to the cell as if to satisfy himself that Brand was in custody, and then left. An hour later, Shorty came in with Lester Amory.
“You got a visitor, Brand. I’ll take your cup and plate.”
Jed handed the dishes through the bars and, after Shorty left, Amory beckoned for Jed to come up to the bars where they could talk.
“Hello, Jed. Got yourself into quite a fix, haven’t you?”
“I don’t need a lecture, Amory. Fixes get me into them, not the other way around.”
Amory chuckled.
“I have news for you, Jed.”
“Good or bad?”
“All good, I think. Luke Garner is here in Abilene. He has been investigating the murders, and your story.”
“Does he still think I killed his brother?”
“Not in light of other developments.”
“What other developments?” Jed asked.
“Several. It turns out that Garner has been to Waco, investigating the murder of my cowhands. That’s why it took him so long to come to Abilene.”
“I don’t see how that helps me.”
“It turns out that there was a witness to Colter’s murder of my men. A young man. Charlie O’Daniels. He saw the whole thing, and he had seen Colter before. Knew who he was.”
“So, what are you getting at, Amory?”
“Garner let it be known at every stop on the way up here that this witness will testify against Colter in court. There are flyers out on Colter, offering a reward that I put up, one thousand dollars, dead or alive. The flyers mention O’Daniels and that he is a witness.”
“Colter will kill him before he ever gets up on the witness stand.”
Amory smiled knowingly.
“Exactly. Charlie is in Waco, waiting to testify when Colter is brought in. Colter will know that by now. I expect he’ll be going back to Waco, sooner or later.”
Jed turned from the bars and paced to the end of the cell and back again. He stopped and looked at Amory.
“I still don’t see how this helps me here. That gallows out there isn’t a doghouse.”
“Garner wants to talk to you, Jed. This morning.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. But I have the feeling that he knows you are innocent. Not only innocent of the murders here in Abilene, but of those in Junction City as well.”
“How would he know that?”
“He’s a bulldog, that man. He’s a tough, seasoned lawman. And he’s smart as a whip.”
“I’ll talk to him, sure. But right now, I don’t put much stock in the law.”
“I know, I know. Here’s the thing, Jed. If Garner can get you off, I want you to get back to Waco as soon as possible.”
“You don’t have to worry about that. I’m homesick and I’m sick of Kansas. Especially Abilene.”
“When you get back, I want you to meet Charlie, stay close to him. Colter will show and I want you to kill him.”
“I told you before, I’m not a killer. Especially not a killer for hire.”
Again, that wry smile on Amory’s face.
“You are now, Jed. Word is that you killed two men in Junction City. In self-defense. One of them, at least, was a wanted man.”
“Jellico?”
“Yes, Sorel Jellico. As for the sheriff, the word up here is that he was as crooked as a stick of mesquite. So those charges are going to be dropped, if they haven’t been already. Garner will see to that, I think.”
Jed shook his head. There were so many blind spots in what Amory was saying. So many ifs. Who in hell was Luke Garner? What could he do against a town that wanted his hide, that wanted him to dance at the end of a rope?
“You think, Amory. But you don’t know.”
“Have a little patience, will you, Jed? Garner has something up his sleeve. I don’t know what it is, but I’m convinced that he believes you’re innocent and that he can help you avoid a hanging.”
“Well, where is he? Where’s Garner now?”
“As a matter of fact, he’s talking to the judge privately in the judge’s parlor at his home. He told me that as soon as he’s finished there, he’ll come here to talk to you.”
Amory reached into his coat and pulled two letters from an inside pocket.
“Garner brought these up from Waco for you, Jed,” Amory said, poking the envelopes through the bars. “They’re letters for you.”
“Who are they from?” Jed asked, feeling foolish. There was writing on the outside, names and return addresses.
“One is from your mother.”
Jed took the envelopes, glanced at them. He was eager to read them, but not in front of Amory. In a way, he dreaded what his mother might have to say. And he didn’t know who had written the other letter. He could not make out the handwriting.
“Thanks, Mr. Amory. Thanks a lot.”
“Aren’t you going to read them?”
“Not now. I’ll read them later, when I’m alone. It might help the boredom of being in here.”
“Look, Jed, I know you’ve suffered a hell of a lot being locked up down in Junction City and back in here. But you’ve got to show some grit. You can’t let this jail wear you down.”
“I’m trying my best.”
“Good. I’m going out n
ow to wait for Garner. He should be here soon. Just hang on, will you? Listen to the man. I feel sure everything’s going to be all right.”
“That’s what my father used to say, Mr. Amory. Whenever anything went wrong, or we were having trouble, he’d say that same thing.”
“Your father sounds like an optimist.”
“Whatever that is.”
“Someone who sees light in the middle of darkness. A man who believes in having hope, no matter how bad things get.”
“Yeah? Well, I never believed him. It was just empty talk. Like everything else he said.”
Amory cleared his throat in embarrassment, as if he were startled that Jed had let his feelings out like that, opening an old, raw wound that his father might have inflicted.
“Well, I’ll be seein’ you, Jed.”
Amory walked to the door and knocked on it. Shorty opened and let Jed’s visitor pass through. The door slammed and Jed heard the lock turn once again.
He walked to the bunk and sat down with the letters. His hands were shaking as he opened the one from his mother first. He recognized her crooked scrawl, the script from her tired old quivering hands. It was a short note, so he read it slowly to savor the joy the letter gave him.
My dear son Jed:
I know you are in trouble, but I pray to the Lord that you will be spared. I know you are innocent. I hope this letter reaches you up in Kansas. Come home soon. I’ll bake you a pie. I cry for you and Dan every night.
Love,
Mother
Tears stung Jed’s eyes and coursed down his cheek.
He missed her. Missed her more than ever. He sniffed the letter to see if he could pick up her scent. She did not wear perfume.
But the letter smelled of flour and onions and sweet sorghum and the blossoms of flowers that grew in their yard. It smelled of honeysuckle and roses and the moonflowers that grew along their fence.
The letter smelled of her, his mother.
And it smelled of home.
CHAPTER
28
JED FOLDED UP HIS MOTHER’ S LETTER, PUT IT BACK IN the envelope and lay it on the bed. He picked up the other letter. But before he could open and read it, he heard the key rattle in the lock to the office door.
Bear River Smith stood by the cell door, along with Shorty, who carried a set of handcuffs with him, and the big ring with the cell key on it.
“Get your things, Brand,” Smith said. “You’re comin’ with me.”
Shorty unlocked the door. Sheriff Smith held it open as the jailer entered Jed’s cell.
“Stand up and turn around,” Shorty said. “I got to put these handcuffs on you.”
Brand put the two envelopes inside his shirt, slipping them down the front. He stood up and faced the back wall. Shorty put the handcuffs around Jed’s wrists. They snapped shut and Shorty spun Jed around.
“Walk,” Shorty said, poking Jed in the back.
Outside, Smith took Jed’s arm and led him into the office. A crowd of men stood there, all staring at Jed.
“Get out,” Smith said. “All of you. Shorty, you stay. Lloyd, you come with me.”
Jed saw Hoyt’s face light up.
“Where are you taking me?” Jed asked.
“To see the judge, Brand. Just keep your mouth shut.”
Judge Mordecai Harrison lived a few blocks from the center of the city in an imposing log house. To Jed, it looked like a forbidding place with its two-story structure looming over the humble cabins that lined the street. It had a cobblestone walkway and a large veranda. The door was oaken and at least three inches thick. Smith used the brass door knocker to announce their presence.
The door opened and a serving man greeted them.
“The judge is waiting in the parlor,” the man said. “Follow me.”
Hoyt and Smith flanked Jed as the servant led them into a room of stained-glass windows that sprayed colored light over the carpet and onto the leather chairs, the tables, and a divan encased in Moroccan leather the color of a rich maroon wine.
Two men waited in the parlor, both sitting in wing-backed baronial chairs. One man was small and bearded. The other looked as if he had been carved out of a chunk of the hardest wood, chiseled to a litheness, with burnished skin that bespoke of long rides in wind and sun, across desolate places. He was almost as tall as Jed and he had a silver shield on his vest that said United States Marshal. Cut into the shield was a five-pointed star of bronze.
The judge spoke first, his small mouth barely visible through his thick, wiry beard that seemed to sprout from his face like exploded wires of black, white, and gray.
“So, this is the infamous Jed Brand,” Harrison said.
“It is,” Smith said.
“He’s tall, but from the stories I’ve heard, I thought he might be a giant.”
Hoyt and Smith both laughed. The marshal did not.
“He’s tall enough to hang,” Hoyt said.
“Well, we’ll see about that,” the judge said.
“Anything else from us, Mordecai?” Smith said. “He should be in irons.”
“That will be all, Tom. Marshal Garner and I will take it from here. And, thank you for escorting your prisoner to my house.”
“A pleasure, Judge,” Smith said.
“Will you be wanting us to come back, sir?” Hoyt asked.
Smith shot him a dark look.
“No, Lloyd. If I need anything else, I’ll let Sheriff Smith know.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good-bye, Judge,” Smith said, and turned on his heel. Hoyt followed him out. A moment later, Jed heard the front door close and the servant’s footsteps vanished somewhere in the house.
“Sit down, Mr. Brand,” Harrison said. “I just want to talk to you a minute before I let you and the marshal here talk between yourselves.”
The judge pointed to a chair near the center of the room. It seemed to have been placed there beforehand so that it faced the two men sitting in front of the large bay window with its stained-glass portrayal of a hunting scene with Indians and buffalo somewhere on a sere plain.
Jed sat down in a straight-backed chair with leather trim. Everything in the room looked elegant to him. He had never seen anything like it.
“I’m Judge Mordecai Harrison, son, and Marshal Garner here has convinced me to write an order for your release into his custody. I believe he is going to escort you back to Junction City to face murder charges.”
Jed’s heart sank like a stone through murky well water.
“Luke here tells me that you are innocent of killing those two United States marshals and your poor brother, Daniel, was it?”
“Yes, sir,” Jed said. “My brother’s name was Daniel. We called him Dan.”
“Are you innocent of those murders, Mr. Brand?”
“Yes, sir, I am.”
“So you say.”
“Yes, sir, I do say so. I would never kill my own brother. A man named Silas Colter killed him and those two marshals. And then he stole my gun to make it look like I did it.”
“That’s what Mr. Garner says. And I believe him.”
“I’m glad to hear that, sir.”
“All right, Mr. Brand. So far as Abilene is concerned, you are a free man. For the time being. The charges have not been dropped. To the outside world, you’re still a man wanted for murder. Marshal Garner will explain the details to you more fully. I have issued an order for your release, and that is all. Do you understand?”
“Sort of. I guess.” Jed squirmed in his chair. He didn’t understand half of it. But he wanted to talk to the marshal.
The judge stood up.
“He’s all yours, Luke. I wish Tom had cleaned him up before bringing him over.”
“I’ll take care of that, Judge.”
The judge waddled out of the study and closed the door behind him.
The room grew quiet as Garner and Brand looked at each other, each assessing the other.
“I’ll call you Jed,
” Garner said. “You can call me Luke.”
“Yes, sir.”
Garner smiled. That was the first sign of warmth or emotion Jed had seen in the seemingly stoical man.
Garner leaned forward in his chair as if to establish an air of confidentiality, and, perhaps, trust.
“Jed, what I’m about to tell you can go no further. It’s just between you and me. Do you savvy?”
“Yeah. Keep my mouth shut.”
“It’s very important. I’m going to ask a great deal of you and I want your full cooperation. Otherwise, you go back to jail and face a meeting with the hangman.”
“I understand. Luke.”
Garner smiled.
“I want Colter. Pure and simple. He’s been a thorn in my side for a long time. And you and I have something else in common. He killed your brother and mine. I want him as bad as I’ve ever wanted anything.”
“Why can’t you catch him? The law was pretty quick to arrest and accuse me. Colter’s running free as a damned bird.”
“I’ll tell you why. Colter is slick. As slick as they come. He used you, as he’s used many others in his career of crime. Just when I think I’ve got him dead to rights, he slips out of my grasp. He’s one wily sonofabitch.”
“I know that now. What is it you want me to do?”
Garner stood up and walked to the stained-glass window as if gathering his thoughts. He was tall and lean and broad-shouldered. For some reason, Jed had already started to like him. He seemed honest and straightforward. Garner turned away from the window and walked over toward Jed. He looked down at him, a look of concern on his face.
“Jed, the reason the judge didn’t wipe out the false charges against you is because I want you to be a wanted man for a while. I want Colter to think he’s gotten away with his schemes and these murders. Now I know you killed the sheriff in Junction City, and that’s no great loss. He was a crooked sonofabitch and everybody knew it. Politics. It stinks to high heaven. And I know you killed Sorel Jellico. To your credit. He was a dangerous gunman and a wanted murderer.”
“Yes, sir,” Jed said, dropping his head like a penitent child.
“You did us all a service with the killing of Jellico. But that sheriff’s death is going to hang over your head a while longer, too, I’m afraid.”
