The Backstabbers
Page 27
“If you don’t like it, you don’t have to pay for it,” Rose said. “’Course, that’s if you don’t eat it.”
“Fair enough,” he said.
“Set yourself down and I’ll bring you some coffee, if that’s what you want.” He nodded and she suggested, “You’d best set in the chair at the end, big as you are.” He took his hat off, offered a polite nod to the couple at the other end of the table, then sat down in the chair.
The lamb stew was as good as she had claimed it would be, and the serving was ample for a man his size. The coffee was fresh and hot and she brought extra biscuits. The price was more than fair at fifty cents, considering prices for most everything were higher in a town the size of Austin. When he was finished and paying her, he asked, “Are you open for breakfast?” She was, she said, opening at six o’clock. “Then I reckon I’ll see you in the mornin’,” he said. “By the way,” he thought to say as he opened the door, “Burnett, down at the stable, sent me here to eat.”
* * *
The night passed peacefully enough as he slept in the stall with Jake, who snorted him awake at about half past five when the big bay heard Burnett open the stable doors. Knowing Michael O’Brien usually came into his office at eight, he decided he would buy himself some breakfast at Pot Luck before he saddled up for the day. He was sure he would prefer eating breakfast with Rose than going to breakfast with O’Brien at the Capitol Diner, where all the customers were dressed up like lawyers. As it turned out, Burnett went to breakfast with him and they took their time drinking coffee afterward. It was a rare occasion for Cullen, but he had to kill a lot of time before O’Brien would be in. Rose’s breakfast was as good as her supper had been, so Cullen knew where he would be eating every time he came to Austin in the future. And that would depend upon whether or not he still had a job as special agent for the governor. He still could not know for sure how long the arrangement would last. Granted, he had received nothing but satisfied responses so far, but knowing it to be an unusual position with no formal contract, it could end at any time.
After leaving Pot Luck, he went back to the stable, loaded his packhorse, and rode back to the capitol building. He was still a little early for O’Brien, but Benny Thacker, O’Brien’s secretary, was in the office, so he took a seat in the outer office and waited. He refused the offer of a cup of coffee from Benny, since he had drunk what seemed like a gallon of it at Pot Luck. He sat there for about fifteen minutes, conscious of the frequent glances from O’Brien’s elfin secretary. He wondered why the shy little man seemed to be so intimidated by him. Then he recalled the last time he had been in the office. He had walked in just as Benny was coming out and they accidentally collided, the result of which nearly knocked Benny to the floor. Further thoughts were interrupted when O’Brien walked in the door. He started to give Benny some instructions but turned to discover Cullen sitting just inside the door when Benny pointed to him. “Cullen McCabe!” O’Brien exclaimed. “Just the man I wanna see. Have you been here long?” Before Cullen could answer, he asked, “Have you had your breakfast?” He hurried over and extended his hand. When Cullen shook it, and said that he had already eaten, O’Brien said, “Benny could have at least gotten you a cup of coffee while you waited.”
“He offered one,” Cullen said, “but I’ve had more than I needed this mornin’. Thanks just the same.” Impatient now, he was anxious to get down to business. “Have you got a job for me?”
“Yes, sir, I sure do,” O’Brien answered. “But first, let me tell you Governor Hubbard is well pleased with the success of this arrangement.” He winked and said, “You did a helluva job in New Hope. He’s started claiming that the creation of your job was his idea, even though it was mine right from the start. Nobody had even thought about appointing a special agent, who reports only to the governor until I suggested it.” Without a pause, he went right into the reason for his summons. “This is a special assignment the governor wants you to investigate this time. So let’s go on in and I’ll let Governor Hubbard explain the job.”
Cullen followed O’Brien into the governor’s office and the governor got up from his desk and walked around it to shake hands with Cullen. “Cullen McCabe,” Hubbard greeted him just as O’Brien had. “I’m glad to see you,” he said. “I was afraid my wire hadn’t reached you.” He smiled warmly. “I’m glad to see you got it.” He motioned Cullen to a seat on a sofa, while he sat down in an armchair facing him. “The job I’ve called you in for is one of special personal interest to me.” He paused then to interrupt himself. “You’re doing one helluva job, by the way,” he said, then continued without waiting for Cullen to respond. “This is a slightly different situation than the problems you’ve handled up to now. We’ve got a little situation about a hundred and twenty five miles northwest of here between a couple of towns on Walnut Creek.”
“Where’s that?” Cullen interrupted, not having heard of it.
“Walnut Creek is a healthy creek that runs through the Walnut Valley. It’s a branch of the Colorado River. I’m sending you to a little town on the west side of that creek, called Ravenwood. It was named for a man who owns many acres of land next to the creek, Judge Harvey Raven. He gave the land for the town to the county officials, along with about one hundred acres for county government business. Of course, the idea was to make Ravenwood the county seat. The problem, though, was that there was already a town of sorts on the east side of the creek, where a lot of settlers had farms and homes. They didn’t like it much when the county took Raven’s offer. Next thing you know, they started having trouble about the water rights. One thing led to another, and pretty soon there were some shots exchanged between the folks that built up Ravenwood and those that wanted the town left on the east side of the creek. So the east side folks created their own town and called it East City.”
The governor rambled at length about the troubles between the two towns, a characteristic Cullen assumed common to all politicians, but he wondered what it had to do with him. “What, exactly, is it you want me to do?” He asked when Hubbard paused for breath.
“I’m getting to that,” Hubbard said. “The problem lies in East City. It’s become a town of saloons, brothels, and gambling halls. The mayor contacted my office. East City’s crime is spilling over to the other side of the creek, so the folks in Ravenwood partitioned my office for help, also. I sent a delegation up there to meet with the city officials. They concluded that the town was justified in their complaints, but they couldn’t recommend any plan of action to improve the situation. We sent a company of Rangers up there to maintain the peace. They set up a camp and stayed for three days. And for three days everything was peaceful. As soon as they left, East City went back to business as usual.”
“Ain’t there any law in the towns?” Cullen asked.
“Yes, there is,” the governor answered, “in both towns. Ravenwood has a sheriff and East City has a marshal and a deputy. The problem is, the East City marshal seems to be in control of the whole town, and is nothing more than an outlaw, himself. And the town has become a haven for every other outlaw on the run in Texas. As far as we know, the sheriff in Ravenwood is an honest man.”
“What do you expect me to do,” Cullen asked, “if the Rangers couldn’t fix the problem?”
The governor glanced at O’Brien and winked. “What you always do,” he answered then. “What you did in New Hope and Bonnie Creek, look into the situation and see if there’s anything you can do to improve it.”
Cullen shook his head and thought about all Hubbard had just told him. “I don’t know,” he said, not at all optimistic about reforming two towns. It sounded to him that the governor needed a negotiator, and that label didn’t fit him. The next best thing was to make one of the towns a permanent Ranger headquarters, and he was about to suggest that when O’Brien interrupted.
“Just ride up there and look the situation over,” O’Brien said. “We trust your eyes more than the Rangers. If nothing else, you can at least
report back with a more detailed presentation of the facts.”
Cullen shrugged and shook his head again. “Well, I can do that, I reckon. It’s your money. I’ll see what I can do.”
“Good man,” Hubbard exclaimed with a grin. “I knew I could count on you. There’s a check for your expenses already in the bank. You can pick up your money today. Think you’ll be ready to leave in the morning?”
“I expect I’ll leave today, just as soon as I pick up my money at the bank,” Cullen said.
“Excellent!” Hubbard responded. “Come, I’ll show you where you’re going.” He walked over to the large state map on the wall and pointed to two small dots that looked to be in the very center of the state. Cullen stood for a few minutes studying the route he would take, noting the rivers and streams. When he was satisfied with the way he would start out, he turned and said he was ready to go. “It’s early yet,” the governor stated. “If you’ll need a little time to get ready to go, maybe you’d like to have dinner with me.”
“Thanks just the same,” Cullen responded, “but I’m ready to go now, soon as I pick up the money at the bank.” He didn’t think he’d be comfortable eating with the governor. He imagined it would be more awkward than it had been with O’Brien in the Capitol Diner. He shook hands with both of them and took his leave after they wished him a good trip.
O’Brien and the governor stood at the office doorway and watched Cullen until he reached the end of the hall and disappeared down the stairs. “Might be a waste of time sending him up there,” O’Brien commented.
“Maybe,” Hubbard said, “but I’ve got a lot of confidence in that man. Besides, it’s a helluva lot cheaper than sending a company of Rangers back there for who knows how long.”
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
WILLIAM W. JOHNSTONE is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of over 300 books, including the bestselling series Smoke Jensen, the Mountain Man, Preacher, the First Mountain Man, MacCallister, Flintlock, and Will Tanner, Deputy U.S. Marshal, and the stand-alone thrillers The Doomsday Bunker, Tyranny, and Black Friday.
Being the all-around assistant, typist, researcher, and fact-checker to one of the most popular western authors of all time, J. A. JOHNSTONE learned from the master, Uncle William W. Johnstone.
The elder Johnstone began tutoring J. A. at an early age. After-school hours were often spent retyping manuscripts or researching his massive American Western History library as well as the more modern wars and conflicts. J. A. worked hard—and learned.
“Every day with Bill was an adventure story in itself. Bill taught me all he could about the art of storytelling. ‘Keep the historical facts accurate,’ he would say. ‘Remember the readers—and as your grandfather once told me, I am telling you now: Be the best J. A. Johnstone you can be.’”
Visit the website at www.williamjohnstone.net.