The Western Justice Trilogy

by Gilbert, Morris

  “Pretty hard man?”

  “Hard as you ever seen. I guess I’d feel kind of jumpy myself if I’d hanged forty men. I wonder what he thinks about at night….”

  “Probably about the next forty men.” Ty walked away from the courthouse and stopped long enough to take a free cup of coffee from the blacksmith’s shop. He was watching the blacksmith shoe a fine black stallion, and he commented, “I never could do that. It takes a special man to be a blacksmith.”

  Tim Carver, the blacksmith, was a bulky middle-aged man. He grinned and said, “You’ve got to have not much sense and tough muscles. That’s about it.”

  The two fell into a conversation about the art of shoeing a horse. A crowd began gathering.

  “It looks like that hanging is about ready to take place,” the blacksmith said. “Sure hate to see it.”

  “Do you watch ’em?”

  “No sir, not me! I got bad enough dreams without some of them comin’ into it. Most people do though.”

  The blacksmith was correct, because by the time ten o’clock rolled around, a large crowd was gathered around the gallows.

  Ty had no interest in seeing a hanging. He had seen two and had not liked either one—but he was shocked to see Raina. She was standing back in the crowd. His eyes fell on her, but he didn’t move toward her.

  He was aware that a man had moved in beside him and turned to see a well-built individual wearing a gray suit and a fancy checkered vest. “You new in town?” He had a pair of intense gray eyes and was watching Ty carefully.

  “Just got in.”

  “I’m Sid Driver. I own the Lucky Star Saloon. Come on over and try your luck.”

  “No, I won’t be doin’ that. I’m flat broke.”

  “You lookin’ for work?”

  “I’m hoping to get a marshal’s badge.”

  Driver shook his head. “Better you than me. Lots of danger and low pay. But come in when you can afford to lose a dollar or two.”

  “I may do that.”

  The hanging had been perfunctory. One of them was already dead, and the one who did the shooting was soon dead at the end of a rope.

  Looking up, Ty saw Judge Parker staring down. I wonder what a man thinks that’s killed forty men with a rope. Not for me. He made his way back to the courthouse and found another man he had not seen before.

  He was a small man, a careless dresser, with intense blue eyes and light brown hair. “Howdy,” he said. “What can I do for you?”

  “I’d like to see the judge if I can. I’d like to get on as one of his marshals.”

  “I don’t think you’ll have much luck right now. The judge always gets behind on hangin’ days. Come back though about maybe three o’clock in the afternoon, and you can see him.”

  “My name’s Ty Kincaid.”

  “Heck Thomas. Glad to know you, Kincaid. You just get into town?”

  “Yes, sure did.”

  “You ever done any law work?”

  “A little bit. I soldiered some. I was a deputy in Texas. Can’t say I was the best they had, but I did my job.”

  Thomas grinned and sent a stream of tobacco juice to the floor. “Wal, that’s all a mule can do, ain’t it?”

  “Guess that’s right.”

  “Well, come on back around three o’clock.”

  Having nothing to do for the rest of the day, Ty Kincaid went into the Lucky Star. He had enough for one beer, and he nursed it along.

  The bartender wiped in front of him and said, “Have one of them sandwiches.”

  “Thanks. I believe I will.”

  The sandwich was good, and Ty ate two of them. He was finishing the second one when a woman came over.

  “Hello, I’m Marie.”

  “Sorry, Marie, I’m broke.”

  “Well, that’s too bad.”

  At that instant a big, rough-looking man came over and took Marie’s arm. She cried out.

  Ty could never stand to see a woman mistreated. He put the stein of beer down and turned to face the big man. “Turn loose of her arm and be on your way.”

  Somebody said, “You better look out. That’s Hal Carson.”

  “I don’t care who he is,” Ty said lightly. He stood with his feet slightly apart, ready for anything Carson might offer.

  He looked like a drunk and had been drinking, but he had a neck as thick as any that Ty had ever seen. He sneered at Ty and squeezed the woman’s arm.

  Ty reached out and struck him in the throat.

  Carson backed up coughing and gagging, but he came back ready for a fight.

  Ty didn’t need any more bruises or cuts. He pulled his gun with a lightning draw and hit Carson over the head.

  When the man went down, his head split. Finally he crawled to his feet, blood running down both sides of his nose.

  Ty said, “You can either leave or I’ll shoot your knee off and you can crawl around for the rest of your life.”

  Sid Driver had come over at that moment. “You better move on, Hal. Maybe you can come back later.”

  Carson wiped the blood off his face, smearing it and making a worse mess. “You won’t always have that gun,” he gasped.

  “I’ll always have the gun, Hal. I sleep with it.”

  As Carson walked away, Sid said, “You better watch out. He’s a pretty mean fellow. He’ll try again.”

  “He’d better not.”

  Marie had not moved. She was rubbing her arm and said, “Thanks. I’ll buy you a drink.”

  “Drinks on the house for you two.” Sid smiled.

  Ty refused the offered drink as it was almost time to meet the judge.

  Sid walked back to his table, and Ty heard him say to his bouncer, “Pretty fast, isn’t he, Jack?”

  Jack shook his head. “I ain’t seen a draw that fast since Slinger Dunn went down. He could have stopped Carson’s clock real easy.”

  Ty grinned as he left the Lucky Star to go meet with the judge. He was back at the courthouse by three o’clock as Heck Thomas had suggested.

  Heck immediately motioned for Ty to follow him. Heck led Ty up to Parker’s office on the second floor and without knocking opened the door.

  Ty could see from the door that the judge looked tired. It was well known that he took his cases seriously, and after a hanging he was always in bad spirits.

  “A fellow wants to see you, Judge,” Heck began.

  “I’m too tired. What does he want?”

  “Wants to be a marshal.”

  Judge Isaac Parker was a tall man, well built, with an aristocratic face. He had served as a lawyer and as a judge. He was now in Indian Territory as appointed by the government, and his rule was law. He had lost many men. It was a rough and dangerous world he sent them out into. “Well, what does he look like?”

  “Well, he roughed up Hal Carson. That ought to count for somethin’.”

  Ty was surprised Heck had already heard about his confrontation in the Lucky Star. He was also embarrassed by the chief marshal’s praise.

  “Send him in, Heck.”

  Heck motioned for Ty to enter. “Come on. The judge will see you.”

  Ty walked through the door with Parker’s name on it.

  Judge Parker said at once, “I understand you want to apply for a job as a marshal.”

  “My name’s Ty Kincaid, Judge Parker. I guess that’s right.”

  “Well, you realize it ain’t like sellin’ peanuts at a circus.”

  The judge’s rough attempt at humor amused Ty. “I never thought it was. I know you lose men.”

  “Tell me why I should hire you.”

  “Well, I served as a peace officer in Fort Worth, Texas, quite some time ago. I reckon the sheriff there would give me a recommendation if you wrote him a letter.”

  “So you’ve done some law work.”

  “Yes, a little.”

  “What else?”

  “Well, to be honest, I should tell you that I worked for a time in Mexico and was arrested falsely for being a r
evolutionist. I escaped with the help of a friend and ended up in Louisiana, where I was taken to jail by a sheriff who recognized me from a Wanted poster. I escaped from there, too, and made my way here. I know you can have me put in jail right now, but I really want to serve as a marshal. I promise to uphold the law the best I can.”

  The judge stroked his chin. “I thought I recognized your name. I heard a wanted man was on the loose named Ty Kincaid. Well, I can take care of that if I decide to hire you.” Parker remained silent as he sat thinking. “All right. I’m gonna take you on tentatively until I hear from the sheriff you worked for and check into that Mexico business. What’s his name?”

  “Bud Zeller.”

  “Why, I know Bud. If he’ll recommend you, that’s all I need. I hate to write letters. You give me your word that this is the truth?”

  “No need to lie, Judge.”

  Heck had come in and picked up on the last of this. “I expect you’re broke. I’ve got a spare bed at my place. You can bunk there until you get a payday.”

  “Thanks, Judge. And I’ll take you up on that, Heck.”

  He followed Heck out the door, and they went down the street and turned the corner. Heck paused in front of a small house and said, “I’ll expect you to help with the expenses when you get paid.” He unlocked the door and walked inside. “There are two bedrooms. You can take the one over there. It’s got a stove. Can you cook?”

  “Ham and eggs.”

  “That’s about my speed, too. I get most of my meals from the Chinese. They’re the best cooks.” He turned and stared at Ty carefully. He was obviously accustomed to judging men in his line of work. “You ever kilt a man, Kincaid?”

  “Yes.”

  “How’d it feel?”

  “Not good.”

  Heck grinned and shook his head. “You get used to it riding for the judge. Here. I’m giving you twenty dollars out of my pocket. You can give it back when you get paid. Go buy some better clothes. You look like a bum.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  Ty was leaving when he ran into two more marshals. One of them introduced himself as Larry Dolby. He was a tall man in his midthirties with blond hair and faded blue eyes. He introduced his companion as Gale Young. He was ironically a younger man in his early twenties.

  “We’re happy to know you. Didn’t get your name.”

  “Ty Kincaid.”

  “Well, I’m glad you’re here,” Young said.

  “Why’s that?”

  Young grinned. “Now I ain’t the newest man around here. You are.”

  “You better watch out for this fellow,” Dolby said and winked at Ty. “He’s a bad man around women.”

  “I’ll keep an eye on him.”

  Young said, “He’s teasin’ me, but that’s the truth. I ain’t no good with women.”

  “That’s probably a good thing,” Ty replied. “Well, I have to go buy some clothes. Marshals ought to be dressed right.”

  Young grinned and said, “Don’t know about that. Ain’t none of us won prizes in the fine clothes contest. Look at what I’m wearing.” Indeed, the marshal was wearing a pair of pants with patches and a shirt that was much too large for him.

  “Why don’t you buy some nicer ones?”

  Larry sniffed. “’Cause he lost his money playing poker ’fore he could get to the general store. Maybe you better lend him enough to buy something nice.”

  “Wish I could, but I don’t have much. And I’ll be as ragged as you are, Gale, before long.”

  “We’ll be a matched set then. See you later, Ty.”

  Ty left the two marshals behind as he headed out to buy some new clothes. He was thrilled to be counted as one of Judge Parker’s marshals and determined to be one of the best in the territory.

  CHAPTER 10

  The sun was peering over the western mountain range, casting a pink tint along the lower edge of the sky. Overhead, clouds were beginning to form, and there was a feeling of colder weather in the air.

  “I don’t know why we have to get up so quick.”

  A group was gathered around the campfire, watching as Joshua Hayes flipped a pancake in the air and caught it in his pan. Hayes was a small man with faded blue eyes. He was worn by what appeared to be hard labor, and now he said, “Come and get it. I’ve got one for each of you. I learned to cook with three pans when I was no more than fifteen years old.”

  Aaron Jordan, a big man with black hair and brown eyes, came over and picked the pancake out of one of the pans. “It looks good, Joshua.”

  “Bless the Lord for good pancakes.”

  Aaron Jordan grinned. “I believe you’d bless the Lord if you broke your leg.”

  “As a matter of fact I did, Mr. Jordan. Broke my leg in two places, and all I could do was thank the Lord for it.”

  “I don’t believe all your stories.” Leoma Jordan, Aaron’s daughter, had come up and removed a pancake and poured syrup over it. She took a bite and chewed. “I think you make up all these stories about how God takes care of you.”

  “No, I don’t make up nothin’ about that. Now I do get a little bit wild with my huntin’ stories.” He poured batter into Leoma’s frying pan and watched as it spread out into a perfect circle.

  Lottie, Aaron’s wife, was a blond woman still pretty despite her forty-three years. “I been thinking about what Oscar Manning told us about this ranch we bought. He made it sound—-I don’t know—-dangerous.”

  Aaron chewed thoughtfully on his pancake, swallowed, and shook his head. “No,” he said, “there’re seven of us. We can defend ourselves. I know this is Oklahoma Territory, but we’ve got enough gun power here to keep the bandits off.”

  “I don’t care. I don’t think he told us the truth about this. He sold out too cheap.”

  Leoma spoke up. “Manning was pretty tired of the ranch. He seemed like a hard man. I wouldn’t think he would give up that easily.”

  “Well, he was a hard man,” Ash said, “but he didn’t have no family like we’ve got.” Ash was the older son of Aaron and Lottie. He was one inch over six feet tall with black hair and dark eyes. He gulped his breakfast down and said, “How about another pancake, Joshua?”

  “Just one minute, boy.” He flipped it in the air and caught it and said, “When it bubbles on top it’s ready to turn over.”

  “Pa, I think you ought to go ahead and see what’s up ahead of us here. We don’t really know where this ranch is for sure.”

  “Well, I think it’s true,” Aaron said, “that he had no family to help him. Just sorry drunks he couldn’t depend on.”

  Ash poured more molasses over his pancake and cut it up with a knife at his side. He speared a large chunk, stuck it in his mouth, and chewed it, saying, “I figure we can handle a bunch of drunk Indians and these so-called outlaws that make their home in the Indian Nation.” He gave Mingan a sly grin. “Reckon we’ll have any trouble with your kinfolk, Mingan?”

  Mingan had made another fire and was cooking his own pancakes. He was a tall man, lean but strong. He had jet-black hair, obsidian eyes, and a coppery complexion. His Indian blood showed, but only slightly. “If there are any Comanches come to get our scalps, I’ll let you take care of them, Ash.”

  “You think they’re pretty tough?” Ash demanded.

  Mingan stirred up the fire, added another few sticks, and put the pan on. “I was working for old man Henderson who was taking a herd across Texas up north. One morning we woke up and found three men dead. They all had their throats cut. We never heard a sound.”

  “What’d you do?” Leoma asked, her eyes wide with shock.

  “Old man Henderson turned the herd around, and we scooted back where we came from. Scared him to death, the old man.”

  “You a Comanche, Mingan?” Ash said.

  “Not really. Just a quarter.” He got up and turned to stare off into the distance. Finally he said, “You can cook the rest of these pancakes, Nelson.”

  Nelson Fox, called Nelly for short, w
as the smallest man, with brown hair and brown eyes. He was the best man with cattle. Good with horses, too.

  “I’d hate to meet up with any of those Comanches.” Harry Littleton stood beside him. He was only five-eight with tow hair and blue eyes. He wasn’t as tough as the other men, but he was a faithful hand.

  “I don’t think Mingan’s so tough,” Ash said.

  “He’s the best shot we’ve got with a rifle, a handgun, or a knife,” Benny said. He was the younger of the Jordan boys at only nineteen.

  The talk ran around the campfire, and when they were through, Aaron said, “Let’s get this herd started. We’ve got to get up to Fort Smith before dark.”

  Leoma saddled her mare and came to ride beside Benny, who was her favorite. “Don’t pay any attention to Ash, Benny. He just likes to brag.”

  “I wish I was as tough as he is.”

  She leaned over and slapped him on the arm. “You’re sweeter than he is. I’ll tell you what. I’ll find you a nice girl to fall in love with.”

  “Good.” Benny grinned at her. He had a good grin. He was a pleasant-looking young man. “And I’ll find you a marshal who’s rich and handsome.”

  “You do that, Benny.” Leoma smiled. “Find one who can write love poems and sing me romantic songs. That’s what I’m looking for.”

  “Somehow I don’t think these marshals are too romantic,” Benny said, growing more sober. “They’re a pretty tough bunch from what I hear. Well, let’s get this herd moving.”

  Soon the air was full of dust made by the herd of cattle. With the hands and Aaron and his two sons, they had no trouble heading them. They crossed a small stream once and let the cattle and their horses water.

  Aaron shook his head. “We ought to be getting close to Fort Smith pretty soon.”

  Mingan was riding by. “Sir, it’s right over there. Don’t you see that smoke?”

  All of them turned, but none of them saw anything.

  Ash scowled. “I don’t think you see anything. You just like to brag on having good eyes like most Indians.”

  Mingan said nothing but shrugged and spurred his horse away.

  Heck exited the jail and stopped. He looked down the street. “Looky there, Judge.”