The Western Justice Trilogy

by Gilbert, Morris

  “Maybe we ought to go back and talk to that preacher, just you and me.”

  “No, I’d be embarrassed. I don’t think God—”

  “Faye!”

  Riordan looked up and was shocked to see his mother, father, and two brothers had entered. His mother ran toward him, and he held his arms out. He caught her. She smelled of lemon and lavender, like always, and there were tears in her eyes. “Mother, what in the world are you doing out here?”

  Caleb stepped forward. “We came out to visit with you, son.” He looked his son over, up and down. “I have to say I am impressed with you, son. You are so tan, and there’s a steady look in your eye now.”

  “Father’s right, and besides, we wanted to see the cowboy in all his glory.” Max grinned.

  Riordan pulled Rosa toward his family and said, “This is Miss Rosa Ramirez. I’ve been staying at her ranch for quite a while now.”

  “I’m so happy to know you, Miss Ramirez,” Caleb said. He could have a gentlemanly manner when he chose, and he smiled saying, “Has this young man been behaving himself?”

  “Oh yes, he has.” Rosa was overwhelmed with the family. One look at them told her that they were aristocrats. They dressed entirely in the fashions of the East and were all fine-looking people. She did not see much resemblance between Riordan and his father and his two brothers, but some of his mother was in his features.

  Caleb said, “I hear it’s going to be hard to find a place in town. I don’t know where we’ll stay unless we buy a tent.”

  “No need to do that, Mr. Riordan,” Rosa said quickly. “You need to come back to our ranch. Your son will be there. It’s quiet, and you can visit as long as you’d like. Plenty of room at our big old ranch house.”

  “We wouldn’t want to impose,” Eileen said.

  The entire family continued trying to protest, but Rosa said, “It will be an honor to have you. You can meet my family and have plenty of time to visit with Riordan. What do you call him? We don’t even know his first name.”

  “His name is Lafayette, but everyone calls him Faye.”

  “Now you know why I don’t use my first name,” Riordan said. He was recovering from the shock of seeing his family, and he watched Rosa carefully and saw that she was on her best behavior.

  Finally she said, “We’ll have to rent a buggy to get you to the ranch. I’ll go see about that. Riordan, bring them down to the livery stable when you’re ready to go. I’ll also let Hannah—she is a friend who has been staying with us—know that we will be leaving soon.” She turned to the store owner who was listening avidly. “Fred, load these in the wagon outside, will you?”

  “Sure will, Miss Rosa.”

  She left, and Leo said, “That’s a good-looking woman. Is she Spanish?”

  “Part Spanish with a little Crow mixed in.”

  “You mean the Indian kind of Crow?” Max lifted his eyebrows.

  “That’s right. Her mother was half Crow. I guess that makes her one-fourth. They say the Crow are the best-looking Indians on the plains.” They stood there talking, and finally Riordan said, “Where are your bags?”

  “We left them at the wharf. We didn’t know where to take them.”

  “Well, let’s go see if she’s found a buggy. We’ll get you out to the ranch. You’ll see a side of life you’ve never seen before, I expect.”

  Marshal Swinson was outside, and he said, “Well, Mr. Riordan, I want to congratulate you on this son of yours. He don’t look it, but he’s got the bad men in this territory scared of him. You heard how he saved Heck Thomas’s life, and he had to shoot another one that was going to harm Miss Ramirez. He was an outlaw, too.”

  Caleb stared at the marshal and shook his head. “He never did anything like this at home. All he did was paint pictures.”

  Swinson grinned broadly. “Well, you watch how the bad ones act around him. It’s like they’re walking around a keg of dynamite that’s liable to go off at any minute. Come along. I’ll help you.”

  Riordan said, “Let’s go. And that’s enough talk about me.”

  Rosa and Hannah saw Riordan and his family approaching. Rosa introduced everyone to Hannah, who told the story of how Riordan had saved her, with Rosa’s help, which further embarrassed Riordan.

  Rosa had rented a two-seat buggy with a top. “That’ll keep the sun off you, Mrs. Riordan.”

  “Thank you, dear. That’s so thoughtful of you.”

  “I’ll drive the buggy, and you can sit in the front with me.”

  “Riordan, why don’t you take the wagon?”

  “All right, Rosa. I will.”

  Rosa drove by the dock to pick up the baggage. The men loaded it in the wagon, and they all started on their way home.

  Rosa and Eileen chatted easily as they traveled. They talked mostly of the countryside and what brought Rosa and her family to this territory.

  Rosa finally broached the subject she hoped to elicit some new information about: Riordan. “You know I made a terrible mistake about your son when he first came.”

  “How is that, my dear?”

  “Well, I needed help to run down some outlaws that killed one of my hired hands. I rode into town to asked Judge Parker if he had any men available. All the regular marshals were gone, so he assigned your son. You should have seen him. They had given him the hardest jobs they could find, the dirtiest.”

  “I know. I asked Judge Parker to do that.”

  Rosa looked at her. “Why did you ask him that?”

  “I hoped he would get tired of it, come back, and pick up his life again.”

  “What was his life like back East?”

  “He spent most of his time painting pictures,” Eileen said. “His father and brothers were pretty disgusted with it. Caleb thought he should have gone into business with him at the factory.”

  “Does he still feel that way?”

  “Not really. We discovered Faye’s paintings are very good, just as I always thought. But of course, Caleb thought I was just speaking as a mother. Anyway, he could have a very fine career as an artist. Do you think he will stay here?”

  “I don’t know. You’ll have to ask him,” Rosa said. She slapped the line on the horses and they broke into a fast trot.

  They continued to chat, but Rosa was unable to get any more information about Riordan from his mother. She really liked the older woman and could see where Riordan got some of his nicer qualities.

  They finally arrived at her grandfather’s property. “Well, there’s the ranch,” Rosa said.

  “How picturesque. You raise horses?”

  “Horses and some cattle. Come along.” She looked back and saw that the mounted hands who had gone along for protection were following behind Riordan who was driving the wagon next to her buggy. As they approached the house, a tinge of uncertainty ran up Rosa’s spine. The house was too quiet. Something was definitely wrong. “Where is everyone?” she turned and asked Riordan.

  Riordan looked around. The fear in his gut reflected what he saw on Rosa’s face, but he did not want her to see it from him, so he forced himself to remain calm and answer in a light tone, “I don’t know. Looks vacant.”

  The entire party rode up to the front of the house. Before anyone could dismount, the front door opened, and Henry “the Fox” Beecher stepped out. He was wearing gray trousers and a light blue shirt with a dark blue handkerchief around his neck. His low-crowned hat was shoved back on his head, and he was smiling like he had some inner amusement.

  “What are you doing here, Beecher?” Riordan demanded.

  “Well,” Beecher said, “I’ve been thinking about you and about the way you took a man away from me, Riordan. Doesn’t sit well with me. I can’t put up with it. People are laughing at me, so I decided to do something about it.”

  Rosa’s fear showed in her voice. “Where is my family?”

  “Safe and sound. Bring ’em out, boys.” Beecher’s men brought out Mateo, Chenoa, Raquel, Juan, and Frank Lowery. “See. Th
ey’re all right. I’m not a bad fellow. I wouldn’t hurt such fine people.” Beecher smiled and shoved the hat farther back on his head. “Let me show you something. You notice all my men here have guns, and I want for you to look at the barn over there. My men are going to be all right as long as your fast gun behaves himself.” He pointed toward the barn and said, “Riordan, look at that second story. I’ve got two men there with rifles. Both of them are aimed at Miss Ramirez. You may be fast with that gun of yours, but you can’t beat this hand.”

  “What are you saying, Henry?” Riordan asked.

  “Why, I’m saying that Rosa is going with me. I’m taking her away from you as you took my man.”

  Riordan felt the chill of fear. “You can’t do that. You’ll never get away with it.”

  “Oh, I think I can and I will. I could have shot you off your horse, but I’m giving you a chance.” He took a step forward and spread his hands out in an eloquent gesture. “Here’s the way this will play out. I’ll take the woman with me, and you come and take her from me like you did George. Just you. No posse. I’ll give you three days. You come alone. We’ll be waiting for you. You come now and see how much good that fast gun will do you.”

  Riordan tried to think, but he knew that Beecher was not joking. There probably were rifles aimed directly at Rosa, and the men on the porch all had their guns out. “You harm Rosa, and Judge Parker will put fifty of his marshals on your trail.”

  “Well, you’ll have to stop that from happening, Riordan. As soon as you’re dead in the dust, we’ll let her go. What do you say, fast gun? From what I hear you can draw and shoot me down right now, but if you do, then my men will cut down the rest of your folks.”

  Riordan thought quickly and knew what he must do. “It looks like you got the best of the argument, Henry.”

  Beecher laughed pleasantly. “I knew you’d see it that way. Bring the horses, Wahoo.”

  A Mexican rode around holding the reins of several horses.

  “Get on that horse, Miss Ramirez. We’ll see if Riordan values you as much as he does his hide. Oh, one thing more,” Beecher added as Red Lyle pulled Rosa off the buggy and led her to her mount. “You have three days, as I said, to come. After that, I’ll take your woman for myself. I’ll treat her right.” He raised his voice, “Okay, you fellows, come out of the barn.”

  They all watched as two men with rifles exited. Hack Wilson was one of them. He said, “Lots of doings, Henry. I say just burn him right now.”

  “No, everyone says he is some kind of a white knight in armor ready to save poor folk. Let’s see if he is. Come on.” They all turned to ride out.

  Riordan couldn’t resist the itch to pull his gun. But he stopped from actually pulling it from the holster.

  Rosa must have seen his action as she cried out, “Don’t do it, Riordan!”

  “Now, that’s smart, Rosa. Your knight will come and get you, but he’ll get killed doing it. All right. I’ll be out there somewhere waiting for you. Three days.”

  Riordan watched as the men rode away.

  At once a babble of voices broke out. Ringo said, “We’ll have to follow them. We can beat ’em, Riordan.”

  “No, Henry’s too smart. The first thing he’d do if he saw a bunch coming would be to kill Rosa. It’ll have to be his way.”

  CHAPTER 20

  The journey Rosa was forced to make with Henry Beecher and his outlaw band was torture for her. They went at an easy trot, and all she could think was, With every step the horses make, I’m getting farther away from home.

  “Don’t worry, Rosa. I’m sure your hero will come through.” Henry had pulled up beside her and was grinning at her. “After all, he is the white knight coming to save the fair princess, isn’t he?” He kept up such talk for some time, and finally when Rosa simply refused to answer him or even look at him, he shrugged and said, “You’ll be friendlier after a few days with us.”

  They rode for four hours, stopping only to rest the horses once, and finally they came into a stretch of what could only be described as badlands. There were no trees to speak of, just scrubs hardly higher than three feet. The land rose slightly into hills, which they had to ride around. Overhead, the sky was a dull gray, and the feeble rays of a waning sun cast the entire location to Rosa into a grim light. Finally they pulled up, after crossing several arroyos and making their way through several canyons, some barely wide enough to permit the passage of a horseman. Henry spurred his horse and came back to her. “Well, there it is. See, up on that hill there. There’s your castle, Rosa.”

  The “castle” was a weather-beaten frame house with rusted tin for a roof. There was a porch running the length of the building, the roof of which was propped up by six-inch saplings. There was a run-down look about the place. The barn was leaning, and it received the same kind of treatment as the roof—six-inch logs dug into the ground and pushing against the top kept the whole structure from falling. The fences were in bad shape, barely good enough to keep the herd of horses that looked up and whinnied as they approached.

  When they reached the house, Henry stepped out of the saddle, reached up, and pulled Rosa down. “Don’t be bashful, sweetheart. This is your new home.”

  Rosa felt the strength of his arms as he pulled her up the steps, and when he opened the door, several chickens came fluttering out, clucking and ruffling their feathers. “Maybe you can do a little housekeeping. Me and my boys, we’re not much at that.” Beecher smiled. He pulled her inside, turned back, and said to his men, “Unsaddle those horses and grain ’em and see that they have plenty of water drawn for them. They’ve had a hard trip.”

  Rosa glanced about noting that it was about as unlovely a room as she had ever seen. The floor had been painted some bright color once but now was a leprous gray, scarred by spurs and with boards nailed over holes to keep the livestock out, which it had failed to do. The room had a cast-iron stove at one end with the stovepipe wired together and the door to the oven sagging. A three-by-ten-foot table served for meals she supposed, and some of the dishes from the last meal were still there with the food hardening and flies swarming everywhere.

  “We don’t stay here much, so we don’t keep it up,” Henry said.

  He came close to her, and when he stood directly in front of her looking into her eyes, Rosa felt a trace of fear. She knew this man was ruthless, that he thought nothing of killing any more than the other members of his band. Now she forced herself to stand straight and meet his gaze. “It looks like a pigsty.”

  Beecher laughed suddenly. “I like a woman with spirit, but you can clean it up. Make yourself handy while we’re waiting on Riordan to follow us here. Come on. I’ll show you where you’ll stay.”

  He walked across the room, and she followed him. There was a hallway, with rooms on each side, she supposed.

  Beecher walked to the end, opened a door, and said, “Right in there, sweetheart.”

  Rosa moved inside the doorway and was disgusted. “This place is filthy!” She stared at the bedstead with broken springs and a mattress losing its padding. There was a washstand with a chipped pitcher and bowl, and a bucket over in the corner.

  “Well, it’s not the Waldorf, but you’ll like it here. I’m going to have to leave you awhile now. I’ll have to lock you in. Not that I think you could get away. If you try to run away, Rosa, it’ll just make it hard on you. You saw what the land is out there. From up here on this hill, we can see ten miles, so just make yourself comfortable.” He waved toward a chair that was broken but had been fitted with sticks and boards to make it sit up. “I’ll be back, and you can cook a good supper for us.” He looked at her and said, “I guess you’re pretty scared.”

  Rosa looked at him. “I know you’d do anything, Henry, so of course I’m scared.”

  “I’m not such a bad fellow,” Beecher said, his eyebrows rising in surprise. “As long as I get my own way, I’ll look out for you.” He waited for her to reply, and when she said nothing, he turned and walked o
ut.

  She heard the door close, and then she heard a bar being dropped to prevent her from opening the door. Quickly she walked over to the window, which was barred. The bars were so close together that there was no hope of wiggling through them. A child might do it but not a grown woman. She looked out over the landscape and noticed that with the exception of one clump of three walnut trees grouped together over to her left, the trees had all been cut down. She lifted her eyes and noted that the house was up on the highest point around. The land fell away for miles, it seemed, and she realized that Beecher had chosen this place because, with a lookout, no one could ever take the man off guard.

  She turned and for a long time paced the floor, which was rather dangerous because it had broken boards that she could step through. The thought came to her that maybe she could remove the boards at night and crawl down under the house, but she found they were nailed securely, and she had no tools to remove them.

  Finally Rosa sat down in the patched-up chair. Her mind was in a state of confusion. She tried to calm herself, but everything she could think of had a grim ending. Riordan will come, she thought. Then immediately she whispered, “Don’t do it, Riordan! They’ll kill you!” Realizing the futility of speaking, she simply sat in the chair. After a time, she heard the men laughing and banging in the next room and dreaded when she would have to go out and be subjected to their crude talk and manners.

  She surprised herself when she suddenly began thinking of the sermon that she had heard. She had a good memory, but this was different. It seemed she could hear every sentence that the minister had spoken. It was a relief to think of something other than Henry Beecher and his murderous band. She thought about the scripture that the preacher had read, the woman with the issue of blood, and how she had sought Jesus out, and how she touched Him and was healed instantly. She thought of this for some time, and then her mind moved to the other illustration, the woman caught in adultery. Rosa had a vivid imagination at times, and she could almost see the scene. The woman being dragged before Jesus, before the whole town, she supposed. She thought about how the men had insisted that she be killed. Rosa went over the whole scene, thinking about how the men had left and Jesus stood up and asked the woman where her accusers were. She must have been weeping. She says, “They’re gone.” Jesus then says, “I do not condemn thee,” and the woman reacts with tears to that, she thought.