The Last Buckaroo

by J. R. WRIGHT

  “Now just why would you want to do that, Yance?” Katie said over her shoulder.

  Dropping his eyes to her shapely rump, in the tight fitting dress, as she moved to the end of the bar, Yancey said, “I can’t think of a good reason … other than I dislike eating alone.” That, however, was a lie. Yancey Burke had always preferred eating away from others at the various ranches he’d worked. But where Katie Peck was concerned, he would make an exception … He liked her company.

  CHAPTER THREE

  When darkness fell Yancey began feeling guilty about his horse, burdened with his every belonging, still tied at the rail out front of the tavern. He finished his beer, bid Katie goodnight, then went across the street to the hotel and rented a room. Once his horse was put up in the barn in back of it, he stored his things in the tack room along with the saddle and went to turn in for the night. Tired and somewhat drunk, he didn’t want to dwell any more on his predicament. That would just have to wait until tomorrow. But one thing for sure, if he was to move on, he would first need to withdraw his money from the bank, which now amounted to near a thousand dollars, the fruits of a lifetime of ranch work.

  Two hours later, Sheriff Preston Ames returned to the tavern, this time flanked by two deputies. He took a quick look around at the few patrons that remained and then marched up to Katie at the bar. “How long ago did Yancey Burke leave from here?”

  “What’s this about, Sheriff?”

  “We just found Clyde Banyon,” Ames said, his steely eyes on hers, a brilliant green. “He’s dead, Katie.”

  “Oh my God!” she screeched. “What happened?”

  “He must have returned to the livery. Someone just found him in the back room with a horseshoe hammer driven through his skull.”

  “My lord …” She turned away for a moment to gather her wits. “So, why do you want Yancey?”

  “That same someone saw Yancey Burke in the area, just after dark.”

  “Now you listen to me, Sheriff,” Katie started, angry. “Yancey Burke may sound tough at times, but I’m here to tell you he wouldn’t hurt a flea. It’s just not in him to kill anybody. In fact after you left before, he sat right here defending Clyde against that attempted murder charge you placed on him. Now does that sound like a guy who would then go kill Clyde?”

  “He’ll have his day in court, Katie. You can testify on Yancey’s behalf then, if you want. Now where is he?”

  Thinking the sheriff didn’t know Yancey no longer worked at the Double Cross, she formulated a lie. “Where does he always go when he leaves town? Back to that ranch, I suppose. He never really said.”

  “That’s near a day ride. Why would he leave for there so late in the evening?”

  “Well, for one thing, he’s a loner, Sheriff. He likes such things as sleeping out under the stars.”

  “Is that so?” the sheriff said. “It seems to me you know an awful lot about him, Katie. You two have something more between you than this bar?”

  “I resent that, Sheriff!” Katie said angrily, pushing fingers into her hair, which was held up with decorative combs. “I’m a married woman, and you know it.”

  “I know no such thing, Katie. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen the man around. So where you hiding him, if that’s true?”

  “I don’t believe that’s any of your business,” she returned smartly.

  “You’re right, Katie, it isn’t. But Yancey Burke is. I’ll expect you to give me a jingle just as soon as you see him. Is that understood?”

  “Sure, Sheriff,” Katie said and watched him go to the door and pass through it, followed by the deputies. But she had no intention of doing what he asked at all. In fact, she knew where Yancey was right now. He’d told her he planned to spend the night at the hotel, before he left around dark. But surely the sheriff would think to look there, too.

  Now she feared for what may happen to him over time. One might say Sheriff Preston Ames owned this county. When he charged someone with a crime, rest assured he got a conviction, regardless of the factual evidence. When Ames took the stand and pointed a crooked finger at the accused, it seemed everyone fell in line behind him: judge, jury, and eventually the hangman.

  With no concern for her patrons, Katie dashed to the rear door and out into the night. Rounding the building she got to the street and gazed across to the lighted lobby of the hotel. Without a doubt the sheriff was in there somewhere; his black Model T Ford sedan, a white star painted on the door, was parked on the street out front.

  After a few minutes of waiting in the shadows between two buildings, Katie saw the sheriff and deputies appear in the lobby. They stood around for a time, then came out the door, got into the car and drove away. There was no sign of Yancey with them, she noted, then wondered why. Hurrying across the street she entered the hotel and went to the counter. No one was about so she rang the bell to summon the owner. Instantly he appeared looking very much like he’d been sleeping, at some point.

  “Ralph, was that the sheriff that just left?”

  “It was, Katie,” the paunchy balding man in pajamas and robe said. “He was inquiring as to the whereabouts of Yancey Burke.”

  “What did you tell him, then?”

  “I said he was here, but he left.”

  “He left?”

  “Yeah, he put his horse away, went to the room for an hour or so, then came down dressed just as he was when he went up, and left by the rear door. The sheriff went up to check the room, and he’s gone all right.”

  “Is his horse in the barn?”

  “Nope. One of them checked that, too.”

  “Yancey just vanished?” Katie said and tried to think of where he may have gone off to.

  “Call it what you want, Katie, but he ain’t here.” Ralph yawned. “What’s your interest in him anyway?”

  “Well, the sheriff said … Never mind. Thanks Ralph.” Katie left the hotel and ran back across the street. Now she wondered if Yancey did have something to do with Clyde’s murder. Otherwise, why would he just leave like that? But then, knowing him as well as she did, one of a hundred things could have spooked him. He certainly marched to the drum beat of a different time, therefore only he could answer that.

  Back inside the tavern, Katie found things much as she’d left them. The three patrons were still seated at the table playing cards and none of them seemed to be in need of another beer. She went behind the bar and began washing up the glasses that had mounted up during the night, hoping that would get her mind off the events of the day.

  The card players left an hour later and she went right to work sweeping up the place. Normally she would mop the floor as well, but this night she just wanted to get home to the little house Helmer provided as part of her salary and drop into a soothing bath. Perhaps tomorrow would bring forth the real killer and all would be back to normal … almost.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Katie locked up at eleven p.m. and started down the dark alley with a lighted kerosene lantern in hand. Even though the normal closing time for the tavern was midnight, Helmer allowed her to leave an hour early on nights when business was slow or, in this case, non-existent.

  She had hardly gotten started on the block and a half walk to her house when Katie felt no longer alone. She paused and used the lantern to look about but saw nothing in the near distance. Normally, she would have continued on under a similar circumstance, but this time her feet just wouldn’t move another step. She brought the lantern up again and caught something, from the corner of her eye, far back into the darkness. Focusing more closely she saw it: a white horse standing broadside between two vacant run down warehouses a quarter of a block away. Knowing that Yancey had a white horse, she thought to investigate. But before she could, the sound of a twig breaking came from behind her. Quickly she turned and there before her was Yancey Burke. “What are you doing here?”

  “I didn’t mean to frighten you … I couldn’t sleep.”

  “You couldn’t sleep? Come on, Yance, surely you c
an come up with something better than that?” she said in a low tone so as not to alarm anyone that may bring the sheriff and his deputies on a run. Their office was only a block away. She lifted the glass and blew out the lantern.

  “Something told me I should get out of that hotel.”

  “You don’t know what happened, do you?” She closed the short gap between them.

  “I saw them hauling a body out of the livery earlier. By the number of men it took, I gathered it must have been Clyde.”

  “So you were there?”

  “Just riding by,” he said. “I was out trying to clear my head. Half of me said I should move on to someplace else, and the other half said I should look for some kind of work around here. If I was to stay here …”

  “Yancey, stop!” Katie was near frantic now that she was certain he hadn’t been the one that killed Clyde. “Listen, you have to get out of town!”

  “Why?”

  “The sheriff thinks you killed Clyde.”

  “What?” His eyes locked on to hers, seeking clarity. “I didn’t kill anybody!”

  “Of course you didn’t. But you know Preston Ames. He’ll make it stick regardless.”

  “Well, then I’ll just have to go find the sheriff and set him straight.” He started out toward his horse.

  “You can do what you think best, Yance. But I wouldn’t advise it for the reason I just told you.”

  “A man has a right to defend his self, Katie!”

  “Okay!” she said and backed away. “So can you prove you didn’t do it, beyond a shadow of a doubt? Because if you can’t, Yancey, you’re as good as hung in this county! I’ve seen what they do here. And I’ve heard the horrors of it passed around at the tavern. A lot of people are aware, but nobody will do anything about it. I think they’re all scared of Preston Ames.”

  “How can I run? That thing will be hanging over my head till my dying breath.”

  “It depends on when you want to take that breath: in a few short weeks, or decades down the road? I’m telling you, Yance, somebody has set you up. And you are expected to take the fall for it.”

  Now it was starting to make some sense to him. “I was set up? Clyde must have had a lot of enemies … They used what happened between us today to make it look like I did it? Is that what you’re saying?”

  “It is, Yancey,” Katie said sadly. “Now you must go.”

  “But I have money in the bank. I can’t leave without it.”

  “Just go. Please! When this thing blows over in a few years, maybe you can come back for it. I have a few dollars at my house. Maybe that’ll get you by till you can find work somewhere out of this county.”

  “I have a month’s pay on me. I’ll be okay,” he said and backed away. Pausing briefly to look at her one last time, he forced a smile. “I guess this is goodbye then, Katie.”

  “Yeah, I guess it is,” she said, not finding it in her to return the smile. “I’ll miss you coming around, Yance.” Just before tears blurred her vision she saw his brilliant blue eyes glance to her lips. For an instant she could almost feel his full lips on hers.

  “Me, too,” he said, and walked off into the darkness, in the direction of the white horse.

  She stood where she was until galloping hoof beats on hard packed earthen streets could no longer be heard before relighting the lamp and continuing on. Now she thought she should have asked where he was heading, just in case things changed and word needed to be gotten to him.

  Nearly halfway up the alley something illuminated her path and she turned to see an automobile coming toward her. Moving to the young spring weeds at the edge of the graveled alleyway, she waited until the familiar Ford sedan with the star on the door pulled up beside her.

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea, you being out here alone, Misses Peck,” Sheriff Preston Ames said through the open window. “Why don’t you get in and I’ll drive you home.”

  “No thanks, Sheriff. I only have a block to go,” Katie said, stepped back to the alley, and began walking again.

  “It doesn’t bother you a killer is on the loose?” Ames kept pace with her, easing the car forward a little at a time as she walked.

  “I suppose that’s true. No doubt there is a killer on the loose. But that killer mentioned isn’t who you think it is. If I were you, Sheriff, I’d be looking for a person who fiercely disliked Clyde Banyon. Not a man who hasn’t a hateful bone in his entire body.”

  “What’s Yancey Burke to you, Katie? Hell, nobody else around here seems to know him the way you claim to.”

  “He’s a friend I got to know at the tavern, is all.”

  “No hanky panky?”

  She chuckled briefly. “No. No hanky panky, Sheriff,” Katie said. “And if you weren’t the sheriff I’d have slapped your face for asking that.”

  “It goes with the job, Katie. Don’t take it to heart, okay?”

  “If you say so …”

  Just then a gunshot echoed through the crisp night air, followed closely by two more … and then a fourth.

  “That came from over yonder,” the sheriff said as he whirled to the right, leaving only the white hat and long silver hair, which danced past his shoulders, facing her. The car lurched, then puttered away with all the speed it had to offer.

  Katie, whose heart was near to jumping from her chest, watched closely to see where he may be going. A moment later she dropped the lantern and broke into a run toward the lights of the town’s main street.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Katie spotted the sheriff’s car at the rear of the hotel, its headlights directed on the barn. She slowed to a walk, frightened of what may be found once arriving. At the big open doors she saw Yancey on the ground with Deputy Striker and Preston Ames standing over him. But before she could scream, Yancey, his wrists clamped in handcuffs behind his back, lifted his head from dirty straw and angrily shouted, “You killed my horse!”

  Katie’s eyes went to the white horse sprawled on the ground and looking very dead, not twenty feet away.

  “Yeah, and you shot me,” Striker lifted an arm to expose a bloody tear in his shirt across the ribcage. It was obviously a graze.

  “Any man that would shoot a horse ought to be dead! I’ve had Hank since he was a colt. He never did nothin’ to you!” Yancey continued.

  “I had to stop you some way,” Striker said and lifted Yancey to his feet. “Maybe you’d rather I shot you?” He jerked Yancey toward the car.

  On the way they all caught sight of Katie at the open doors.

  “You’d best get home, Katie!” Preston Ames barked.

  “He killed my horse, Katie,” Yancey said, looking disheveled without his hat.

  “I know …” She covered her mouth. “What were you doing here, Yance?”

  “I had to gather my things from the tack room,” he explained. “How could I go without my bedroll and rifle and …”

  “Oh, Yancey!” she said with disappointment in her tone.

  “Go home, Misses Peck,” the sheriff ordered again and opened the car’s rear door so Striker could shove Yancey into the back seat.

  “I’ll go just as soon as I’m confident that man will be treated humanely and with a measure of dignity, Sheriff!”

  “Well now, Misses Peck, I don’t much give a rat’s ass what you want,” the sheriff said, then spit a massive amount of tobacco juice on her shoes. “He’ll get a bunk and three squares a day, like any other killer would, till he’s hung. That’s all I can promise.”

  Appalled and distressed, Katie stepped aside as the sheriff entered the car and it chugged away under the heavy load.

  “Now what am I going to do with that?” a voice from behind her said and she turned to see Ralph from the hotel, this time fully dressed, coming into the light from the barn’s interior. Her eyes followed his to the dead horse.

  “Well …” she said, and glanced back to the tobacco juice on her shoes. It seemed no one was happy with what went on here. “Preston Ames should be
made to …”

  “Nobody makes the sheriff do anything,” Ralph said. “I’ll have to pay to get it removed.”

  Katie’s eyes went back to the dead horse, the saddle and Yancey’s belongs still strapped and tied with rope to its back. “If you’ll help me remove the gear,” she said, “I’ll see to it the horse gets a decent burial. I’m sure Yance would want that for the animal.”

  “What is it with you and that Yancey Burke, Katie?”

  “Well, for one he’s been falsely accused of murder. I couldn’t call myself a Christian if I stood by and let Preston railroad him through a quick trial, and on to a speedy hanging, as he’s done time and again all these years.”

  “How many of those do you figure were innocent?” Ralph asked and looked down his nose at her. “Most were no good drifters.”

  “I know none of them got a fair trial,” Katie said. “You may not know this but my grandfather was a circuit judge in Tennessee for forty years before he died, God rest his soul. And he would never have allowed people to be hung on the word of the law officer alone … shy of any solid evidence. It’s just not done that way there … and shouldn’t here.”

  “And you think Yancey is innocent … is that it, Katie?” He went to the dead horse and began unstrapping the saddle.

  “I know he is, Ralph. The man I’ve grown to know over the years is not a killer.”

  With that a wave of jealousy came over Ralph Longley. He had been trying to catch the eye of Katie Peck ever since she first came to Blazedale back in 1912, to no avail. He nearly became an alcoholic — spending so much of his time at that tavern once she took it over — before giving up on the notion. Now he wondered what Yancey Burke had that he didn’t: a full head of hair, for one, came to mind.

  “Why don’t you just go, Katie? I’ll store Yancey’s gear … and see to it first thing in the morning his horse gets buried down along the river, by the train trestle. Nobody seems to care horses are dug under there.”

  “His name was Hank,” Katie said and saw a blank look suddenly appear on Ralph’s face. “I just thought if you were going to put up a marker, you’d want to know the name.”