The Western Justice Trilogy

by Gilbert, Morris

  When he did not advance any faster, she waited until he was even with her, his eyes watching her cautiously. He gave her a mild answer, “Miss Ramirez, Maggie here does the best she can.”

  Twilight had begun to creep over the land, the low hills to the west turning dark against the sky while the flatlands of the east slowly shadowing as night crept over them. The day had been blistering hot, sharp and bright, with no clouds to bring any relief from the sun’s rays.

  Now as Rosa stepped off her horse, the sun had settled westward and seemed to melt into a shapeless bed of gold flames as it touched the faraway mountains. She advanced to the porch, having seen her father and her grandfather sitting there in their cane-bottom rocking chairs. Pearl shadows had come on the eaves of the house and the barn, and the dusty road took on soft silver shadings. Soon evening’s peace would magnify the distant sounds, but all the beauty of the sunset meant nothing to Rosa, for she was still furious over the treatment she had received from Judge Parker.

  Shaking her head with disgust, Rosa spurred the mare, which despite being hard ridden, still had some spirit left. She rode up toward the house, and as she drew near, she saw Ned walking across the front yard. She pulled the mare to an abrupt halt, stepped out of the saddle, and said in a spare tone, “Ned, this mare is overheated. Would you please walk her until she cools off?”

  “Sure I will, Miss Rosa.” He started to ask how her trip went, but seeing her face set with anger thought better of it. He took the lines and moved away.

  Rosa gave one disgusted glance backward over the road and saw that the man was still dragging along. She mounted the steps and seeing Ethel standing at the door said, “Ethel, I’m parched. Would you get me some cool water, please?”

  “Yes ma’am, I’ll do that.”

  Rosa looked at her father and her grandfather, but her lips were so dry it was difficult to talk. Both of them were sitting in rockers with the checkerboard in front of them. Rosa knew they were both men who were quick to pick up on the moods of others, and her mood at that moment was definitely not favorable.

  Ethel appeared at the door with a large glass and a pitcher of water. “I’ll just set this here, and you can drink all you want, Rosa.”

  “Thank you, Ethel.” She drained the glass slowly, letting the coolness and the moisture of it seek out her dry tissues. She then poured a second glass half full and then put the glass down on the table.

  Frank glanced at Mateo then asked Rosa, “How was your trip? Did you get to see the judge?”

  “Yes, I saw him, but precious little good it did me!”

  Frank exchanged glances with Mateo. It was her father who asked, “It didn’t turn out well, I take it?”

  “No, it didn’t turn out well! I rode as hard as I could, and when I got there the judge was out in front of the courthouse. I got off my horse and walked right up to him. He was very polite, but then I guess he always is. He asked me what I wanted.”

  “He didn’t ask you in his office?”

  “I didn’t give him a chance. I told him about the raid and how we lost a man to the outlaws, killed, shot dead in the dust. I told him how we were plagued with outlaws.

  “What did he say?”

  “Oh, he was sympathetic,” Rosa said. “He said he was sorry and that he hoped he could do something.”

  “I told him flat out what I wanted. I said, ‘Judge, we need some of your marshals to run the outlaws down.’ He gave me a story about how the marshals stayed out for a long time, sometimes coming in one day and going out the next. Said he didn’t have any men right now.”

  “Well, I expect that’s true,” Frank said. “This is a big territory. He’s had almost two hundred marshals, but he’s had about fifty of them shot down. He’s got a hard job.”

  Rosa was beyond reason, however. She turned and looked out at the road and saw that the rider was moving along at the same pace. In a tone dripping with anger, she blurted out, “There’s what he sent us.”

  The two men watched as the rider got off his horse, tied up at the rail, and came to stand on the ground in front of the steps.

  “This is the famous marshal,” Rosa said. “He claims his name is Riordan, but I just call him fertilizer hauler.”

  Both men were shocked at her anger, and she smiled in a humorless, bitter expression. “That’s what he was doing. Dressed like he is now in filthy clothes and hauling refuse out of the stables.”

  Frank cleared his throat. Finally he said, “Well, Riordan, have you been a marshal a long time?”

  “Just since three o’clock, sir.”

  His answer shocked both Mateo and Frank, but it was Rosa who snapped bitterly, “Well, he’s been a marshal now for at least four or five hours, but that ought to be plenty of time to make him into a great hunter.”

  Mateo now cleared his throat and turned to look at the man more closely. “Didn’t they have any more experienced men, Riordan?”

  “No, sir, they didn’t.”

  Rosa spoke up at once, disgust in her tone. “All they had was this famous stable cleaner, and I found out he’s also able to wash dirty dishes.” She slapped her hands together and knew it was not difficult to read her mood. She was still furious and gave Riordan a look of utter disgust, saying, “Go back to Judge Parker. I’m sure he misses your services. A hauler of fertilizer! I’m sure that’ll be handy when Henry the Fox brings his band and kills all of us!” She whirled and went into the house, slamming the door behind her.

  Frank got to his feet and walked to the edge of the porch. “She’s a little bit upset, Marshal.”

  “Yes, sir, I can see that. I don’t blame her much, but she’s telling the truth. All of the marshals were gone at the moment. I’ve been working for the marshals for some time now, but this is the first time the judge has sent me out on any kind of a job.”

  Indeed, Riordan looked young and inexperienced, and his clothes were filthy, his face was dirty, and the shape of his hat shed an innocent face not at all like the hard-bitten marshals that Frank had seen coming out of Judge Parker’s court.

  “Why don’t you get settled in, Riordan. I guess you could use a bath and some clean clothes.” He lifted up his voice and said, “Ned, come here a minute, will you?”

  Ned Little came quickly to stand beside Riordan, giving him a cautious look.

  “This is Riordan. He’s from Judge Parker’s court.”

  “Glad to know you, Riordan. I’m Ned.”

  Frank said, “Ned, why don’t you help him get settled in. Find a place for him to sleep, and maybe he can change his clothes and get cleaned up by suppertime.”

  “Yes, sir, I’ll take care of that.”

  From the time Ned had laid eyes on Riordan he had been filled with questions. He managed to ask a few as he led Riordan around to the side of the house toward a long, low structure. “That’s the bunkhouse where you’ll be staying. You been with the marshals long?”

  “Not too long.”

  “I’ve seen a few of the marshals. You seem younger than most of them.”

  “I guess that’s right. The judge agreed to take me on. He let me do a few odd jobs while I was getting ready for the big ones.”

  “Well, this is a big one all right.” He entered the door, and when Riordan followed him, he gestured with his hand. “Take that bunk over there.”

  The place was a mess, Ned knew, but Riordan made no comment. He simply said, “Thank you, Ned.”

  “Tell you what. Why don’t you wash up a little bit and change your clothes. Supper will be ready soon.”

  “Well, to tell the truth I don’t have any more clothes. Miss Rosa left in such a hurry, and the judge shouted at me to follow her. All I had time to do was get my rifle and my pistol and get in the saddle. She was almost out of sight as it was. The horse I rode is not very fast.”

  “So, you don’t have any clothes except those?”

  “Yes, this is all I have.”

  “Well, we lost a man in a raid. That’s what Miss R
osa went to see the judge about, and that’s why you’re here, I guess. His name was Blinky. I’d known him for five years. Mighty good man.” Ned shook his head. “He was about your size. Nobody’s had the heart to clean up his things. As far as I know, he don’t have any kin around. I believe his clothes would fit you; at least it’s better than what you got on.” He walked to Blinky’s bunk and gathered a few items.

  “Thanks, Ned. Where can I wash up?”

  “Come here.” He walked to the doorway and pointed outside. “See that windmill over there?”

  “Don’t see many of those.”

  “Well, it pumps water. There’s several buckets there and a big tub. You can go splash around, get yourself as clean as you can, and put on some of Blinky’s clothes. You’ll be all right.”

  Riordan picked up the clothes and nodded. “Much obliged, Ned.”

  Ned stepped outside and watched Riordan walk toward the windmill. He didn’t walk like most cowboys. There was nothing bowlegged about him. His legs were straight, and he walked quickly toward the windmill.

  Ned turned and went to find Ringo, who was currying his horse out in the stable. “The marshal came in from Judge Parker’s court.”

  “Well, I guess we can use him. What’s he like?”

  Ned leaned against the wall and watched as Ringo continued to curry the horse. “Well, you can see for yourself at supper. He’s not a big man, and he looks terrible.”

  “What do you mean ‘terrible’? He’s ugly?”

  “No, I reckon he looks fair. I couldn’t see him, as he was wearing a floppy hat, but he looks about like a shoe clerk. You know, kind of innocent.”

  Ringo straightened up and stared at Ned. “All the marshals I’ve seen are pretty tough. This one sounds different.”

  “Well, he is different. But you know looks are deceiving. Remember Dirk Patrick?”

  “Sure do. He was a bad one.”

  “Bad as they come, but you remember he had a kind of a prissy look about him, a sissified way. That got a lot of men in trouble. He didn’t look like he would fight, but when someone crossed him it was like a stick of dynamite going off. He left a trail of blood all the way across Oklahoma and Texas.”

  The two men talked about the marshal, and finally Ringo said, “Well, he may look like a schoolboy, but maybe he’s better than he seems.”

  “You ought to see the horse he rode in on. I watched him coming. He’s just plodding along like he was on a plow horse.”

  “Well, there again not all gunfighters are great riders.”

  “Yeah, but something else bothers me, Ringo. He carries a .38 by his side.”

  “That’s different.”

  Indeed it was different, for Ned knew every man in the Territory, certainly all of the marshals, carried a larger caliber, with most of them being Colt .44s.

  Ringo shook his head. “Well, those little .38s won’t knock a man down unless you put a bullet in his brain. Doesn’t sound like Miss Rosa got a very good man out of the draw.”

  “No, she was mad as a hornet when she rode in. I started to speak to her but figured I’d better not.”

  “Well, we’ll find out more about this fellow. What’s his name?”

  “Riordan is all I heard. Don’t know his first name. I’m going to go in and tell the cook to throw on some more steaks, or whatever he’s cooking, on the stove. This fellow won’t eat much. He’s too undersized for that, but I can eat what he leaves.”

  Rosa came out of a fitful sleep slowly, for she was still tired after the long ride she had made, but she was aware that dawn was coming. As she sat up in the bed and put her feet on the floor, she thought of her trip to Fort Smith and how the judge had seemingly not been willing to help her. With that came the thought of Riordan, and just that one single thought seemed to trigger all the anger she had had yesterday. “What are we supposed to do with a fool like that?” she muttered.

  She got out of bed, walked over to the table, and poured tepid water from a ceramic pitcher into an enamel washbowl. Stripping off her nightgown, she washed her face and hands and arms and then went over the rest of her body as well as she could. It was not a bath, but it was her habit to do this every day.

  She dressed, putting on her underclothing, her divided skirt, and her white blouse. She put on the vest with the gold coins for buttons, which she had grown fond of. It had four pockets that held small things. Besides the buttons and the pockets, she thought it gave her a rakish look.

  She walked over to the window and looked out. The sunrise was slow, and she had noted that the night left the land so gently that things were dim and only an outline. Now the earth was beginning to take form, the distant hills barely visible. Even as she watched, a bird began singing. She did not know what kind. “What have you got to sing about?” she muttered.

  Now that she was fully dressed, she went downstairs.

  As soon as she entered the kitchen, Ethel turned and said, “Breakfast will be ready soon, Miss Rosa. It’s biscuits, gravy, eggs, and ham.”

  “That sounds good.” She began moving around, setting the table, although she knew it was possible that the older men would not get up. She knew they awoke early, but many times they would just lie in their beds resting.

  “Mr. Frank said you brought a man back from Judge Parker’s court. What’s he like?”

  “He’s not a man. He is little more than a dishwasher.”

  Ethel blinked and stood staring. “You don’t like him.”

  “I went to get a tough man or about a half dozen to run these killers down. What do I get? A stable cleaner! That’s all he’s good for, that and to wash dirty dishes. Well, I told him to go back, but I suppose he’s still here.”

  “Well, that’s too bad, but maybe if we give him a chance he’ll be of some use.”

  “He’ll be of use cleaning the stable,” Rosa snapped.

  The food was soon ready, and she sat down and ate with Ethel. Her mother came in and joined them. When they were eating, Rosa spoke with bitterness to Chenoa, and Chenoa listened to her silently. “Better not be judging a man. He may be better than he looks.”

  “Well he couldn’t be any worse! Filthy clothes, hands and face all smeared with dirt, and who knows what else. And you should have seen the horse he rode! I had to wait on him. I think he was riding a plow horse.”

  “Well, you need to give him a chance,” Chenoa said, echoing Ethel’s words.

  “I’ll give him a chance. Our stables need cleaning, and there’s always dirty dishes.”

  She fell silent, and the other two women began to talk of other matters of the house. Her mother soon left to wake Juan and Raquel and tell them to come for breakfast. As Ethel brought in some more food for her brother and sister, an idea was forming in Rosa’s mind. She finished eating and said, “I’ve got to go talk to the hands. I’ll see you later.”

  Leaving the house, she noted that the sun was now climbing in the west, throwing its lambent beams down over the earth. She found Ringo, who was coming out of the kitchen shack, which also included the tables for the hands. “Hello, Ringo.”

  “Hello, lady. You should have been here. That Riordan, he’s a better cook than we’ve had. Made some of the best pancakes I ever ate.”

  “We don’t need a cook. We need a man who can shoot somebody.”

  “Well, Ned and me talked about it. Sure enough he don’t look like much, but you never can tell.”

  “He rode in on a plow horse. What good is that to us?”

  “Well, maybe that was all they let him have at the judge’s.”

  “No, you can tell the way he sat on the plug he’s not a rider. I want you to give him some lessons.”

  “Riding lessons?” Ringo laughed. “What do you mean by that? You said he rode in.”

  “I want you to teach him how to stay on a fast horse. Start him out with Chief.”

  Ringo’s eyes opened wide, and he passed his hand over his face. “Chief? Why, that’s a plum bad horse. He’s throwed
me and Ned both, and everybody else that I know of.”

  “Put Riordan on him. He’s got to learn somehow.”

  “Well, that marshal might get hurt. Don’t that bother you?”

  Rosa smiled, but there was little humor in it. “Of course it does, Ringo. But he won’t last against the outlaws if he isn’t ready for it. Sometimes you have to endure unpleasant things to get toughened up to complete what needs to be done. I wish we could take it more slowly, as you all did with Juan and me, but we just don’t have the time.”

  Ringo stood looking at Rosa, apparently searching for something to say. Finally he said, “You know, Rosa, you look sweet, but you got some toughness in you.”

  “All women are like that. Haven’t you noticed?”

  “Well, not all look as good as you, but all of ’em have a little toughness, I suppose. I don’t like this, though. That horse can be plum mean.”

  “Don’t tell Riordan he’s a bad horse. Just get him in the saddle and then get out of the way so you don’t get stomped.”

  “Well, it’s your say so, Rosa, but we may have a busted up marshal on our hands.”

  Riordan came out of the kitchen shack. He had helped wash the dishes. The regular cook had left a week earlier, so Riordan had been glad to plunge in to fix pancakes. That was simple enough. He found Ringo Jukes waiting for him.

  The husky rider said, “Need to give you some riding lessons.”

  “Why, I can ride.”

  “No, I don’t mean that old pokey horse you rode in on.”

  “Maggie is a good horse.”

  “Look, sooner or later we’re either going to be chasing after some outlaws or they’re going to be chasing us. In either case that horse is no good. You’ve got to have a fast mount.”

  “I haven’t had a lot of experience.”

  “Well, you’re fixin’ to get some. Come on. I’ll pick you out one to start on.”

  Riordan followed reluctantly, and when they got to the corral he saw that all the hands had gathered, including Ned, who was leaning against the corral post rolling a cigarette. “Want to ride a little bit, Riordan?”