“Thank you, Judge. I’ll see you again before we leave.”
“Write me when you get settled. I’d like to see some of those pictures of yours sometime.”
“I’ll paint one and ship it to you.” Riordan smiled.
They made their good-byes to the judge and went back to the street.
“You feel better now, Faye,” Rosa asked, “I mean not being a marshal?”
“It was getting to be a heavy thing. They’re noble men, most of them, but just not for me.”
They were headed for the restaurant, both families, and suddenly a shock ran through Riordan, for Henry Beecher stepped out of an alleyway. He had his gun drawn, and it was pointed directly at Riordan.
“Don’t move, Riordan. I’ve got my men posted along the street.”
“You’re making a mistake, Henry.”
“No, my mistake would have been if I tried to match draws with you. I’ve heard about that draw of yours, and I don’t care to test it.”
“I don’t have a gun on me, Henry.”
“I don’t believe that. You always have a gun.”
“Not anymore I don’t, and I’m not a marshal anymore.”
Beecher scowled. “I know you’ve got a hideout somewhere.”
“No, I don’t. I don’t ever want to shoot anyone else.”
“You’re a liar!” Beecher shouted. “I’ll give you a break. I count to three, and on ‘three’ you go for that hideout.”
Judge Parker’s voice came, “Beecher, you’re under arrest.”
Beecher looked up and saw Judge Parker leaning out the window. “You won’t get me this time, Judge. All your marshals are gone out on a job. I found that out. I’m taking Riordan out.”
“You’ll hang if you do.”
Beecher merely laughed. His eyes were alight. It was the kind of situation he liked. “All right. On the count of three. One—two—” On the count of two, Beecher fired.
Riordan thought he could feel the hiss of the bullet passing close to his ear. He did not have time to move, but he suddenly realized that there was another gunshot right on the heels of the first. He saw a black spot appear in the center of Beecher’s forehead. Beecher’s eyes went dead, and he simply collapsed, dropping his gun in the dust.
Riordan whirled and saw that Ringo was pulling his gun up. “You owe me for that one, Riordan.” Ringo grinned. “I’m going to claim the reward on this scoundrel, and then I’m going to have me a high time.”
“He died like he lived,” Caleb said. “A cheat and a liar.”
Beecher’s men began to scatter. They mounted their horses and rode out.
“Well, they’ll break up now. Henry was the brains of the outfit,” Riordan said. He turned to face Rosa and saw her face was pale. “Don’t be afraid. It’s all over.”
Rosa whispered, “God kept you from killing him.”
“Yes, and I’m thankful for it. All I want is you and some peace.”
“You can have me, and we’ll see about the peace.” She giggled.
A crowd was gathering. Some were bending over Beecher, but Riordan said, “I don’t want to see him. Let’s get out of here. We’re safe now. God has answered our prayers for peace.”
Rosa and Riordan got out of the buggy and stood looking at the small cabin. “Not much of a honeymoon spot.”
“But the mountains are so beautiful,” Rosa said. She turned to look at the rolling hills that seemed lost in a blue haze. The air was clear, and the forest was thick. “This is such a beautiful place.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
“Whose house is it?”
“Well, it’s ours for a week.” Riordan reached over and put his arms around her. “I’ve got just one week to teach you how to be a good wife.”
Rosa laughed and threw her arms around him. She drew him down and kissed him and said, “It’s going to take longer than that for me to teach you how to be a good husband.”
“Come on. Let’s look at the inside.” They went to the door, and he opened it then turned and suddenly swept her into his arms. “An old custom. The groom always carries the bride over the threshold.” He walked inside and put her down. They stood looking around. “Looks like a palace to me.”
“Plenty of peace here. That’s what you wanted, Faye, me and peace.”
“Right.”
They found another door and saw a large bed. “This is the bedroom. I hope you like it.” He smiled at her. “You’ll be spending a lot of time here.”
She hit him on the shoulder, laughing.
“I’ll go bring the things in. You can cook me a fine meal while I rest up. Getting married is hard work.” He looked thoughtful then said, “Which case has the white silk nightgown my mother bought you?”
“Never mind. Just bring it all in. I think I’m going to wear my old flannel gown. It’s sort of ratty, but after all, you should have to work to get the white silk one.”
They suddenly reached for each other, and he kissed her gently and then with fervor. “We’re going to have a wonderful life.”
“Yes, and four beautiful children—one at a time,” she smiled.
They clung to each other as they rested in the peace God had provided. A peaceful place to begin their married life together, a peace from having to fight outlaws, and the most important peace… the peace residing in each heart given to God in faith and love.
SABRINA’S MAN
PART ONE
CHAPTER 1
Little Rock, Arkansas, 1864
The late summer sun, which had been hiding behind a silver cumulus cloud, illuminated the face of Waco Smith as he stood staring up at a large sign glistening with fresh paint. Here at the north end of Little Rock, the businesses framing Main Street were, for the most part, framed structures, but others made a more permanent statement with their façade of brick and marble. Waco turned and looked down to his left to the Arkansas River that dissected the town and lent its own dark odors to the sense of the southern part of Arkansas.
Waco noticed with a degree of sadness that many of the men walking the street to his right wore parts of the Confederate uniform. Many of them were missing arms, and others hobbled along on crutches or on one leg. This war is going to ruin the South. The thought was bitter in his mouth, for he was tired of the war as were most people in the South.
He thought with bitterness of the year that he had served in the Confederate Army. He had joined up in a fit of patriotism when Fort Sumter had fallen but had signed up for only one year. He had fought at Bull Run, but when his year was up, he had left the army and determined never to fight in the Civil War again.
Waco’s train of thought about the war was broken when a voice behind him said, “That’s a right nice sign you got there, Waco.”
Waco turned and smiled at the speaker, Micah Satterfield, and paused, studying the police chief.
Satterfield was a heavyset individual with a square face, a pair of sharp blue eyes, and a neatly trimmed mustache. He had served Little Rock as police chief for three terms and kept a tight lid on the city. “You’re getting to be a respectable citizen.”
Shaking his head, Waco gave Satterfield a brief grin. “Never thought I’d be one of your taxpayers, did you, Chief?” He was six feet two inches tall and had to look down on Satterfield, as he did on most men.
Satterfield glanced up at the large sign that announced SMITH& BARTON HARDWARE. “Hope to get rich, do you, son?”
“I doubt that. All I’ve ever done is raise horses.” He shrugged his broad shoulders, adding, “Will—he’s the smart one.”
“So I understand. You two must have been friends for a long time.”
“Nope.” Waco studied the sign and murmured, “I worked on my grandparents’ horse ranch most of my life. My grandfather died, so I ran the ranch for Grandma. Last December she died. Since I was the only kin, she left the ranch to me. I sold out and made straight for the big city. I was tired of cleaning up after horses and aimed to waste all that mon
ey I got on wild women and whiskey.”
Sheriff Satterfield studied the tall man. “Well, you didn’t do that as I thought you might. What stopped you, Waco?”
Smith took off his hat and ran his hand through his stiff black hair. “Well, I would have, but when I went into the bank to deposit the money I got from the sale of the horse farm, I met Will Barton. I guess I was boasting about what a fool I was going to make of myself, and he talked me into putting off such foolishness. We got to know each other, and somehow he convinced me to go into business with him.” He stuck the hat on his head, pushed it back, and said, “I still don’t know how it all happened, but the first thing I knew we took my money, Will quit his job at the bank, and for the next six months we just about killed ourselves working twenty hours a day getting that hardware business started.”
“You put up all the money?” Satterfield had some doubt in his voice. “That’s unusual.”
“Oh, Will had a little money. Mostly he took care of the finances of the business. He knew how to keep books, and he knew hardware. I just turned out to be a strong back and a weak mind. You know, Sheriff, I thought breaking horses was hard, but running a business… that’s worse. Sometimes I wish I was back there in the simple life.”
Suddenly a voice called out, “Well, are you going to stand and stare at that sign all day, or are you going to come in and give me a hand?” Both men turned and saw that Will Barton, Waco’s partner, had emerged from the store. He was wearing an apron and shook his head. “I can’t pick up those kegs of nails. That’s your job.”
“My master’s voice.” Waco nodded toward Satterfield, bid him good-bye, and with a rolling gait moved to the front door. “When are we going to hire somebody to do all my work, Will?”
“Not anytime soon.” Will Barton smiled then and added, “If you think handling stock is hard, you ought to try balancing a set of books for a new business that’s out of money. Put those nail kegs over by the wall, will you?”
“Sure.” Waco moved over where six nail kegs were stacked, picked one of them up, and carried it easily with a strength that surprised most people. He moved the rest of the kegs then leaned against the counter and sighed. He opened one barrel and pulled out a cracker and then reached into another and pulled out a pickle. He took a bite of the pickle, made a face, and said, “These things are sure sour.”
“Well, stop eating them. That’s my profit.”
“I wish I had never run into you, Will. If I had gone right down to having my fun, I could be living it up with the hostesses down at the Golden Nugget.”
“Hostesses! That’s a nice word for ’em.”
“Well, it doesn’t do any good to be nasty. That’s what they call themselves.”
“If you had done that, you’d be broke and probably in jail.”
Suddenly Waco grinned, which he’d been told by several ladies made him look much younger, and reached out and put his hand on Will’s shoulders.
The man was his opposite in almost every way. Barton was only five feet eight and was almost fragile. He had blond hair and hazel eyes, and his face was composed of delicate features. Waco’s hair lay thick and black and ragged against his temple. He had high cheekbones, and minute weather lines slanted out from his eyes across smooth bronze skin. His mouth was broad below an aqualine nose, and his eyes were a shade of gray that was almost blue.
Will had been to college for a year when his father had died. There had been no inheritance. Will had found a job as a clerk at the bank and had done well enough.
“I was just kidding, Will,” Waco said. The feelings of his partner were easily hurt, so he had to be careful.
Instantly Will gave Waco a smile. “Take the cash from the sales to the bank, will you? I don’t like to keep it at the store.”
“Sure.”
“And take the pistol. You might get held up.”
“I’ll be right careful.” Waco moved to the drawer behind one of the counters, pulled out a .44, checked the load, stuck it in his waistband, and sighed. “Do you reckon business will pick up after this war’s over, Will?”
“Bound to, and it can’t last much longer,” Will declared. “Grant’s got Lee penned up in Richmond.”
“I wish it would end today. I lost some good friends in that fracas.” Waco turned and called out as he left, “I shouldn’t be long.”
“Sounds good.”
Waco left the building, but not before hearing Will turn back to the books with a sigh.
As Waco left the bank, he was greeted by a blond woman who grinned at him. “When you coming down to visit me, Waco?”
“Oh, I’ll be there. You just hang on, Rosie.”
Stepping outside, he looked up and studied the sky, then muttered, “There’s some rain in those clouds.” He walked down the street to the train station. When he got there, he stopped to talk to Oscar Riggs.
“You still aim to go hunting after a deer with me this weekend?” Oscar asked. He was a muscular man with a pair of sharp black eyes.
“Yep, we need some venison at our place.”
“We’ll go on Sunday morning.”
Oscar shook his head violently. “I’m plum nervous about hunting on the Sabbath.”
Waco was amused. “Well, you’re a sinner just like I am, aren’t you, Oscar?”
“Yes, but I don’t want to make it any worse.” He took a match out of his pocket, stuck it in his mouth, and began chewing on it. “Don’t it scare you to think about what’s gonna happen to us when we die?”
“Some. I try not to think about it much.”
Oscar suddenly turned and said, “Well, there comes the 2:15. I hope there’s no baggage for me to move.”
The arrival of the train always drew visitors to the station. Men with nothing else to do, many of them veterans crippled up, gathered, and Waco idly watched as three men got off.
Then a woman stepped down, and the conductor reached up to take her hand.
“That’s a right nice-looking woman,” Oscar said.
“Sure is,” Waco replied.
The two watched the woman as the conductor helped her locate her luggage, which she set down on the platform. She looked around as if confused.
Waco would have left, but he had gone only a few steps when Oscar said, “Uh-oh, that’s trouble.”
Waco turned and saw that two men had bracketed the young woman and were giving her a hard time.
“Those two ought to be run out of town.”
Waco recognized Jasper Landon and Orville York. Both of them had served short terms in prison, and Waco had beaten Orville in an oozing fistfight in the Golden Nugget Saloon. The sight of the two giving the young woman a hard time brought the quick flare of temper that lurked somewhere below Waco’s smooth surface. “Those fellows need a lesson in manners,” he remarked.
“Better watch yourself, Waco,” Oscar called out as his friend left. “They been spreading it around they’re gonna wipe you out.”
Moving to where the three stood, Waco paused.
Instantly the two men turned their attention on him. Both of them had anger in their expressions.
“You two be on your way. Leave the lady alone.”
“What makes you think you can give me orders?” Jasper Landon said. He was a tall, lanky man with a lantern jaw.
Orville York was shorter but muscular. He spat out the words, “You might as well move on! We’re doing right well without your help here.”
Waco ignored them as he turned to the woman. “Young lady, you’re probably going to the hotel. I’ll be glad to escort you.”
“Thank you very much.” The woman was very attractive, with blond hair and blue eyes and dressed better than most.
“I’m going to wipe you out one of these days,” Jasper said. “I hear you think you’re a tough man.”
Waco kept his eyes fixed on both and was not surprised when, without warning, Orville threw a swift punch. Waco had been expecting it. He blocked it with his left arm and struc
k the man a tremendous blow on the nose. Orville wheeled, cried out, and fell backward in the dust. Instantly Waco wheeled to see that Landon was reaching for a gun. With one quick move he pulled out his own gun before Landon could free his own weapon.
“I ain’t drawin’!” Landon said quickly.
“Second thoughts are usually best. You two move on. I’m tired of the sight of you.”
Orville scrambled to his feet. Blood was staining his shirt. “You won’t always have that gun.”
“I’ll always have the gun, Orville. I’m not telling you again. Move on.”
The two cursed but left.
Waco watched them to be sure they were out of the way.
The woman said, “I can’t thank you enough.”
Waco said, “Sorry you’d get such an introduction to our city. I’m Waco Smith. Could I help you with your luggage?”
“I—I don’t know exactly where to go. I need a room for the night.”
“Well, there’s the Majestic Hotel. The name’s more stuck up than the hotel, but it’s clean.”
“If you wouldn’t mind, I’d appreciate it.”
Waco picked up the two suitcases and then nodded. “Down this way, miss. I don’t know your name.”
“I’m Alice Malone. I’m very grateful to you for you help, but won’t it make trouble for you?”
“Oh, those two will make trouble wherever they go, but they won’t bother you.”
They reached the Majestic Hotel, and Waco waited while the woman signed her name to the guest register.
The desk clerk instructed, “Room 206 up on the second floor. Got nobody to carry your bags.”
“I’ll take care of that,” Waco said pleasantly. “Got a key, George?”
“Right here.” George leaned over and pulled a key from a board and handed it over. “There you are, Miss Malone. Glad to have you in our city.”
“Thank you.”
Waco moved up the stairs with the young woman. When she got to the room, she unlocked the door, and he walked inside and put the suitcases down. He took off his hat and said, “Well, like the man said, welcome to Little Rock.”
The Western Justice Trilogy Page 25
