by J. R. WRIGHT
The sheriff came with Striker by the arm. Together they re-chained Yancey and left with him through the side door.
Katie was left sitting in her usual seat, face in hands. The tears wouldn’t stop coming.
Woody sat with her for a time, then lifted her to her feet. They would go to the tavern. Surely, they each could use a drink. He knew he did.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“Mister Clampett, are you finished with Deputy Striker?” the judge asked, once court resumed.
“No,” Woody was quick to say. “Not by a long shot, Your Honor.”
“You’re still under oath, Deputy,” Judge Samuels reminded Striker.
Again Woody was slow at getting to the stand, hoping to rattle Striker some in the process. “Kermit …” Woody glared at him. “Now that we know what you did with Lester Kingsley, why don’t you tell the jury why you killed him? I mean the body was hanging there near two days. Plenty of time for you to concoct the story to tell the jury …”
“Objection!” Lane Wilson jumped up from his seat. “Don’t tell me you’re going to let this nonsense continue, Judge? Clearly Clampett is on some kind of fishing expedition, with this line of questioning …”
“Your Honor, may I remind you it was Mister Wilson who opened up this line of questioning — that concerning Lester Kingsley … God rest his soul. I should have a right to examine the testimony of this witness.”
“Ask your questions, Mister Clampett,” Judge Samuels said. “But I won’t tolerate any further badgering of this witness. If so I’ll be forced to dismiss him. Is that understood?”
“I didn’t hear anything from you, Judge, when Deputy Striker stated he had a witness claiming to have seen my client kill Clyde Banyon. Nor did I hear you object to anything said when Kermit here stated the eye witness mentioned was none other than Lester Kingsley. Now you’re telling me I can’t take liberties with this witness, when it’s certain I’ll never have the chance to examine Kingsley on the stand. Not now. My point is, if I can’t get to the truth through this man, then who from will I get it?”
“I see your dilemma, Mister Clampett,” Judge Samuels said. “I’ll allow your questions, only as long as they are not accusatory. But then, I presume you don’t expect this witness to outright incriminate himself anyway, do you?”
“It’s not what I get from him, Your Honor. It’s what the jurors glean from his testimony that counts. Before I’m done with him the picture will be crystal clear, I assure you.”
“Continue with the witness, Mister Clampett.”
Katie, who felt much better now, was at the ready with her pad and pencil.
“Kermit, what exactly was it Kingsley told you?” Woody asked, his back to Striker, facing the jury. He wanted to see their reaction to Striker’s answers.
“Well … he saw it happen. He saw Yancey there swing the hammer that killed Clyde.”
“And where did this killing happen?”
“In the blacksmith shop.”
“Well, were the doors open on the blacksmith shop, Kermit?”
“No, the doors were closed,” Striker said, and scratched his nose, conspicuously.
“So, where was Kingsley then, when he saw Clyde being bludgeoned to death?”
Striker seemed confused. “I don’t know.”
“You didn’t ask him that?” Woody said.
“No.”
“Why, Kermit? I mean, you’re an officer of the law …”
“We only talked for a short time. He said he would tell me more later.”
“So, did Lester see Yancey drag the body into that back room?”
“No. He didn’t stick around long enough to see that,” Striker said.
“So, Kingsley must have been somewhere outside?”
“I guess …”
“Where outside?” Woody pressed on. He wanted the jury to find a pattern to these obvious lies.
“I told you I didn’t know.”
“Well, was he peeking through a crack between the big doors?”
“No. I checked. The doors have an overlap.”
“Oh, so you did do some investigating,” Woody said. “Kermit, did Lester Kingsley happen to say whether Yancey had that hammer is his left or right hand?”
“What difference does that make?” Striker looked confused.
“Well, it only makes sense … A right handed person’s swings will generally strike the left side of the person before him … and vice versa, if left handed. Especially if it’s a heavy hammer being swung.”
“Clyde was struck from behind,” Striker blurted.
“How do you know that, Kermit?” Woody asked in a louder voice. “You said Kingsley only saw Yancey swing the hammer.”
“Well … I … I could tell from the wound on Clyde’s head.”
“But you never examined Clyde’s head. It was a mass of crusted blood and brains by the time you found him … there was no way anyone could even tell where the original wound was.”
“Who told you that?” Striker said in a panicked tone.
“The undertaker is here in court, Kermit. Shall I put him on the stand?”
“Objection, Your Honor,” Wilson stood. “I think Mister Clampett is making testimony.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Lane!” the judge bellowed. “Hasn’t this dragged on long enough as it is? Calvin, stand up.”
Calvin Twindle stood among the spectators, third row left. “Yes, Judge?”
“Clerk, get over there and swear Calvin in.” Moments later Samuels asked, “Okay, Calvin, what condition was Clyde’s head in when you received the body?”
“Oh, it was in terrible shape. I worked a good thirty or forty minutes with soapy water and brush just to reach what little hair he had, let alone find the wound.”
“So, where was the wound?” the judge asked.
“Back of the head, left side. I told the wife at the time, poor Clyde was done in from behind by a south paw. Isn’t that right, Irene?”
“It is,” Irene said from beside him.
“All right, Calvin, you can set down now. Mister Clampett, you can continue,” Judge Samuels said.
“Thank you, Calvin,” Woody said. “Now back to you, Kermit. So you were saying … about how you knew Calvin was struck from behind?”
“What do you want me to say?” Striker seemed out of sorts now, his eyes darting around rapidly.
“Kingsley never said anything to you, did he? But you knew Lester knew something. It was all over town he had given a statement to Katie Peck, and you jumped to the conclusion it contained things about what you’d done. I think you went over to get Clyde for the sheriff the day he and Yancey got crosswise with each other at the tavern. The two of you got into it once you arrived at the livery, and you killed him.”
“Objection,” Lane Wilson said, but there wasn’t much enthusiasm in it. “He’s badgering again, Your Honor.”
Both the judge and Woody Clampett ignored the objection.
“I see by which hip you wear your gun, Kermit, you’re left handed,” Woody said, all the while slipping one of his hands inside his jacket.
Striker lowered his head and made a move like he was coming up from the chair, and would have — gun in hand — if it weren’t for the fast action of Sheriff Preston Ames, who put a gun to his temple before he could follow through with it. “Hand it over!”
Striker did as told and came down from the stand. Preston held him at gunpoint near the side door.
“What goes here?” Lane Wilson said, and glared at the judge.
Woody went back to his table, facing the beaming smiles of Katie and Yancey as he walked.
There was a sudden rustling in the gallery and the judge pounded a fist. “I think it’s pretty obvious, Lane,” Samuels said. “It is the ruling of this court that Yancey Burke be …”
“Just one moment, Your Honor,” Woody said. “I don’t exactly think this is proper, but since they came all this way, maybe you ought to ask the jury t
o render a verdict … just to make it official?”
“You’re right, Mister Clampett, it isn’t proper … But then, what has been proper here today? Members of the jury, what is your verdict?”
With little debate, Jake Pearson came to his feet. “Not guilty, Your Honor!”
With that, the gallery erupted in window rattling cheers.
Judge Samuels pounded them to silence one more time. “Sheriff, put that man under arrest for the murders of Lester Kingsley and Clyde Banyon! We’ll hold the trial on Wednesday and hang him on Friday.”
“The man has a wife and kids, Jethro,” the sheriff said.
“Okay, then we’ll give Striker life and send him to Terryville. An ex-deputy sheriff ought to get a grand welcome there.” Judge Samuels then slammed his fist to make it official and left the bench.
“Serves him right,” Katie said and stood to hug Woody. “You are one crafty man, Mister Clampett. What you did here today was nothing short of miraculous. However, it probably would have gotten you disbarred where I came from.” She laughed.
“Well, then thank God this isn’t where you came from, little lady,” Clampett said and moved on to some people nearby, who were waiting to congratulate him.
“Oh, Yancey, we did it!” Katie said gleefully and kissed him on the cheek. She then allowed him to pull her in for a long hug. “What will you do now?”
“I’ll need to get away from here for a while, Katie … I need some time alone to get my head together. It takes the wide open spaces for that.”
“Okay,” she said, clearly disappointed. “But you will be back?”
“Count on it,” he said, and abruptly walked away.
Katie watched him leave by the side door, most likely to avoid the crowd. Now she wondered if she’d ever see him again.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
With mixed emotions, Katie walked the few blocks to the tavern. Entering she discovered the place packed to the walls with people. As she worked her way to the bar she noticed some of the customers were female, a rarity for this place. The automobile could be the reason for that — city folks getting out to the country. Knowing not what else to do with herself she stepped behind the bar to give Wanda a hand. There was an abundance of dirty glasses so she went right to work washing them up.
“Oh, God, thank you,” Wanda came up to her and said. “So your man was found not guilty. I’ll bet you’re feeling super about that.”
“Well, yes, I am. But I don’t know where you got the notion Yancey was my man. He’s just a good friend, Wanda.”
“That’s not what I heard.”
“Well, you don’t see him here anywhere, do you?” Katie said, disappointedly.
“Where is he then?”
“Rode out, I guess. I suppose he got a horse somewhere.”
“Well, that’s a bummer,” Wanda said and went back to serving customers.
An hour later, Ralph Longley appeared before Katie at the bar. He handed her an envelope. “Yancey asked me to deliver that … it’s money for the lawyer. I have Helmer’s suit over at the hotel.”
Katie opened the envelope to see if there was a letter — no such luck. “Where is he, Ralph?”
“Rode north, is all I know. I sold him my old gelding. I’m thinking of buying a car anyway.”
“He didn’t happen to say when he’d be back?”
“No, but he left some of his things in the tack room. I suppose he’ll be back for that someday … Oh, he did say he put an extra twenty dollars in the envelope — for you.”
“He must have drawn his money from the bank?”
“Now you’d have to ask his banker that. All I know is he had a big wad on him. I saw it when he paid me the fifty dollars for old Barney.”
Katie spotted Woody Clampett by the door, towering over the group of people that surrounded him. It seemed he was a popular man in town now. She shouted “Woody!” and waved him over.
“Thanks, Ralph,” she said, even though there wasn’t much gratefulness in her heart at the moment. “Can I get you a beer?”
“May as well. I don’t expect there’ll be any new customers, now that the trial is over.”
She drew Ralph the beer, sat it before him, then saw Woody had almost made it to her. “I see you have a following already,” she said and handed over the envelope.
“Yes, Katie. It seems that way, doesn’t it?” He pulled the money from the envelope and quickly counted it. “You’ve made a mistake … there’s twenty extra here.”
“Keep it … you earned it.”
“Oh, I couldn’t. It’s me who should be paying you,” he said. “Without your help, Katie, I doubt we would have won.” He shoved four ten dollar bills into her hand and closed her fingers around it.
“Knowing you, Woody, I’m sure you would have found a way,” Katie said and laughed. No doubt the man was a mind reader the way he manipulated Kermit Striker … either that or a good guesser. “Thank you,” she said and put the money in a small invisible pocket in the dress, at the waistline.
“Now, I need to talk to you about working for me full time,” he said, displaying a hopeful grin. “Of course it would mean you’d need to move to Terryville.”
“Oh, that does sound exciting, Woody, but I couldn’t. Thank you anyway. I don’t want to leave here just yet. Besides, I’d miss the tavern.”
“Well, if you change your mind …”
“I won’t,” Katie responded quickly. She wanted to be here if Yancey ever returned, although she cautioned herself about getting her hopes up. “Let me buy you a whiskey.”
“Just one. I’ll need to go while there’s plenty of daylight remaining. Those lights on that Packard aren’t far reaching enough for the way I drive.”
Katie poured the whiskey and sat up a water chaser along with it. She’d learned today, at the noon break from court, that’s the way he liked it.
“Here’s to you, girl,” Woody said, winked and threw back the shot, quickly following it with several swallows of water. He then saluted and backed away.
“Be sure to come around whenever you’re in the area,” Katie said, and returned the salute. Ever the charmer, she thought.
“You just try and keep me away.” He turned to work his way back through the crowd, which took a while, with all those in the room that seemed to want to shake his hand.
“I’m happy he worked out for you,” Ralph said.
“Yes, and I’ll be forever grateful to you for recommending him to us, Ralph.”
“I’m glad it turned out the way it did,” he said.
“Me too,” she said, and immediately became lost in her thoughts … how it could have been … How it should have been! “I’m going home.” She smiled to Ralph, walked to the end of the bar and went on out through the rear door. She would take a hot bath and turn in early. Tomorrow things would be back to normal, after a long and tormenting week … But what was normal? That would take some thought … It seemed, lately, every day was different. Each new one seemed to surprise her with something … be it good, or be it bad.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
After the huge day at the tavern the day before, Katie had plenty of time to sweep up and mop after opening at noon — before the first customer arrived.
Normally she wouldn’t have to do that of a morning because she always cleaned up the night before. As it were, though, Wanda had left her an enormous mess. Poor Wanda! Katie supposed she’d become anxious to leave at closing time with some newly seduced guy and simply put her personal desires ahead of duty. That was a decision Wanda could make without giving the matter a second thought.
The so-called customer seemed to be having difficulty deciding if this was the place he really wanted to be. He loitered at the door for the longest time before Katie stopped washing glasses to ask, “Can I help you?”
“I thought maybe Sheriff Preston Ames was in here. I see his car is parked out front.”
Katie had plenty of time to look the man ov
er. For one he was old, maybe seventy but surprisingly his hair and cookie duster mustache were mostly dark brown. He had deep crevices in his face and a creased black Western hat on his head. He was tall but not terribly so — and slim — and hunched a little. “Have you tried the eatery next door?”
“I have,” he said and turned to grab another look outside. “He’s not there.”
Now the man was beginning to make her nervous, and she moved down to be closer to the end of the bar. “Maybe you ought to check across at the hotel.”
“I’ll just wait here, if you don’t mind, ma’am.”
“Suit yourself,” Katie said and dipped to see if the shotgun was still where she’d put it last … it was. “I’ll just take this can of trash out to the barrel in back, then.” She glanced and saw the man was fixated on the street. It was then she got the courage to put the sawed off double barrel in the thirty gallon copper can and proceeded to drag it to the rear door. Once outside she removed the gun and dashed between buildings to get to the main street. Anxiously then she looked both ways. There were few traveling the dusty thoroughfare, as opposed to yesterday when it was a snarl of both automobile and horse traffic.
The sheriff’s Model T was nearby, parked facing the sidewalk, just as the stranger said. Then it dawned on her. Often the sheriff will stop at the eatery, eat his noon meal, and then walk back to the jail with the baskets containing prisoner meals. But why hadn’t the man checked at the sheriff’s office? Perhaps if he had, he would’ve found Preston there.
Now she began to wonder if it wasn’t just her. She was a bit out of sorts after the excitement of this past week: Clyde, the trial, Lester Kingsley, and then Yancey leaving so abruptly. Perhaps she should get back inside. The man must think it awfully strange she was gone so long. After all, she hadn’t seen a gun, but then he was wearing that type of duster some automobile drivers wore. No telling what he had under it.
Taking a chance of being seen, Katie peeked around the corner of the building to her right. It was the one that housed the tavern. And sure enough the stranger was still there, she could see the brim of his black hat protruding beyond the doorway. Then as she was watching it disappeared … he’d obviously stepped back inside. And then she saw why; the sheriff had just stepped from his office and was coming up the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street.
