by Rob Hill
The thought that he and his pa had not spoken kindly during their last conversation weighed on Hartford. He tried to comfort himself with the thought that at least he had been in town when the old man passed on. At least he had seen him one last time, even if they hadn’t been able to make peace. Hartford shaded his eyes and peered the length of the street in the direction he knew Annie would come. Greely’s hammering kept up a gentle percussion at the far end of town.
Sheriff Milton insisted that he had paperwork to attend to and pointed Hartford towards a chair on the office porch, which gave him a perfect view of the saloon. As the morning progressed, people came and went. Pearl supervised a procession of townsfolk carrying baskets and plates loaded with provisions. Pops Wardell turned up in a clean shirt, sat down in his usual chair outside the saloon door and promptly dozed off. Eventually Bill Greely stopped hammering and sauntered up the street, waved at Hartford and grinned his black-toothed grin. It began to feel like all the bunting on the saloon meant something and there was going to be a celebration after all. Even so, whenever Hartford called to the sheriff to come and join him, he refused to come out on to the porch, insisting he still had paperwork to get through – even though he wouldn’t say what it was.
A gang of hands from the McGreggor ranch arrived. Logan, Jake Nudd and Clyde Shorter were with them and studiously avoided looking towards the sheriff’s office. Charlie Nudd and guys from the Lazy D, all spruced up with clean clothes and new kerchiefs round their necks followed close behind. McGreggor and Mary May rode in together.
Mary May’s face was washed out and joyless, her hair was in a loose plait down her back and she was wearing the clothes Hartford had seen her in at McGreggor’s the previous day. McGreggor himself looked stern and kept close to her as if anyone who wanted to speak to her had to go through him first. It was almost as if he had decided to bring his men with him in case of trouble. Mary May would have made some arrangement with Pearl to get changed in a room at the back of the saloon, Hartford assumed. But something wasn’t right. For a start, there was no buggy. Why had McGreggor let her ride a pony to her own wedding?
Hartford watched them all dismount outside the saloon. McGreggor waved the men to go inside ahead of him and he caught Mary May’s arm to hold her back. They were too far away for Hartford to hear what they were saying, but McGreggor seemed to be insisting on something. He kept hold of her elbow, even when she tried to pull away. He looked severe, an angry parent lecturing a child. Close to tears, Mary May shook her head violently. Whatever it was he wanted her to do, she was putting her foot down.
McGreggor looked up and down the street. Keeping an eye out for someone? Looking to see if anyone was within earshot and could overhear them? Who knew? At that moment, the sheriff emerged from his office. The movement across the street caught McGreggor’s attention for a moment, Mary May pulled away and ran up the steps into the saloon leaving him calling after her. Taking time to collect himself, McGreggor checked the reins of the horses tethered to the hitching rail and, after another glance up and down the street, followed her into the saloon.
‘Something’s not right,’ Hartford said. ‘Boone ain’t even here.’
‘He ain’t late yet.’ The sheriff pulled out a steel watch from his vest pocket.
He pulled up a chair opposite Hartford, felt for his tobacco pouch and began to roll a cigarette.
‘Reason you were sent down here in the first place kinda got lost with everything that’s gone on.’
It sounded like a simple observation, but the sheriff was building up to something. Hartford could feel it.
‘The rustling. I saw them changing the Lazy D brand out at McGreggor’s,’ Hartford said. ‘As soon as we make the arrests, I’ll contact Chicago.’
‘Reckon you know who’s behind it?’
The question took Hartford by surprise.
‘I told you. I saw McGreggor’s men changing the Lazy D brands with my own eyes. McGreggor got Logan and his bunch to cut Dunmore’s herd and when Dunmore found out and fired them, McGreggor took them on.’
The sheriff knew all this, so why was he asking?
‘The rider from Fort Worth bought two wires. Modern technology catching up with itself. I let you see the first one while I had a think about the second.’ The sheriff finished rolling his cigarette and patted his pockets in search of a match. He eventually tracked one down in the breast pocket of his shirt, flicked the head with his thumbnail and watched it splutter alight. He took a deep draw and the heady tobacco scent filled the morning air.
‘Telling you I’m on my way?’ Hartford expected a joke, but the sheriff was serious.
‘Reading between the lines, it says you’re on the wrong trail.’
Looking at Hartford closely, the sheriff drew out a folded telegraph paper from his vest pocket and handed it over.
Hartford felt a chill pass through him, even though the heat of the day was in the air. There was the sound of voices and laughter over at the saloon, but it seemed far away. He unfolded the paper. It was a wire from the Pinkerton Office in Chicago addressed to Sheriff Milton, Credence via Commanding Officer Fort Worth.
RINGLEADER LAZY D RUSTLING IDENTIFIED STOP EVIDENCE ABILENE AGENT STOP INSTRUCT AGENT ARREST BOONE HARTFORD STOP WITHOUT DELAY STOP ALLAN PINKERTON.
Hartford felt like someone had punched him in the gut.
Without taking his eyes off Hartford, the sheriff sat back in his chair, straightened his legs in front of him and took another draw from his cigarette.
‘Boone had been rustling Dunmore’s beeves. Dunmore tumbled to it and called in the Pinkertons. Sure gives Boone a motive for killing Dunmore, don’t it?’
CHAPTER TWELVE
An hour later, Hartford gave up. If Boone wasn’t here by now he was never going to show. With one last glance towards the edge of town, he left the sheriff rolling himself another cigarette and crossed the street to the saloon. He had to speak to Mary May. If she didn’t at least have a suspicion about Boone’s whereabouts, then no one had. The sun was high and just stepping out from under the protection of the porch meant he felt the heat across his shoulders like a brand.
By the time he reached the middle of the street, Hartford could hear raised voices coming from the saloon, a man and a woman. The man was stubborn, at the end of reasonableness and laying down the law. The woman was tearful, hurt and refused to be pushed around. McGreggor and Mary May.
Hartford stopped inside the saloon door to let his eyes get accustomed to the shadows. Before he could see properly, Pearl was at his side demanding to know where Boone was.
‘He’s putting the poor girl through hell.’ She was righteous with anger.
As Hartford’s vision returned, he could see groups of people sitting round tables. None of them was drinking. A line of gun belts hung by the door. Logan and the men from McGreggor’s place huddled in the shadows in one corner, with Jake Nudd trying to make himself invisible at the back of the group. Bill Greely and Pops Wardell sat far away from them at the opposite end of the room. Next to them were three guys, clearly self-conscious in their best clothes, who Hartford recognized as hands from the Lazy D. Then there was the family who ran the store occupying another table and alongside them, folks from the outlying farms. Everyone was sitting in shocked silence, nervously watching an argument between McGreggor and Mary May come to the boil. Pearl hovered close, like a referee who might have to step in at any moment.
Mary May stood sobbing with grief, anger and stubbornness. Torn streamers and bunting lay strewn at her feet and in her hand she gripped a white rosette she had just ripped off the front of the bar. McGreggor was close beside her. Each time he made a grab for her arm she pulled away.
‘I told you you should have stayed at the ranch and let me handle this.’ McGreggor spoke too loud. He was not used to being defied. His voice was strained with sympathy wearing thin.
‘I have to wait for Boone,’ Mary May sobbed. ‘I will not leave. I want him to hear it from
me first.’
‘Hon . . .’ Pearl tried to plead with her, but Mary May turned away.
‘He will come.’ Mary May screwed up the rosette in her fist and threw it down on to the floor. ‘I know he will.’
At the sound of footsteps on the porch, everyone turned towards the door. Annie came in wearing her best house dress and a straw bonnet. She stood beside Hartford, blinking to let her eyes adjust.
‘Do you know where Boone is?’ Mary May catapulted herself towards her friend. Annie seized her, hugged her close and after a moment led her towards an empty table. She grabbed Hartford’s sleeve with her other hand and pulled him with them.
‘Damnit, open the bar, Pearl,’ McGreggor commanded. ‘Everyone needs a shot of red eye.’
Shouts of agreement chorused from all round the room.
‘One shot.’ Pearl glared at the preacher. ‘There’s still half an hour to go before the ceremony’s due to start.’
The tension in the air evaporated as soon as Pearl poured the red eye. McGreggor and Charlie Nudd took it upon themselves to carry trays of whiskey from table to table. Everyone started to smile and talk and take care not to stare at Mary May. They avoided commenting on the fact that she wasn’t even wearing her best clothes, let alone a wedding dress, or that there was no sign of the groom.
The loss of both the young women’s fathers coinciding with the wedding was almost too much for the townsfolk to take in. Many of them had known Mary May and Annie since they had been children and if sitting quietly and waiting to see how things turned out was the kind of support the girls needed right now, then that was what they would give them.
Annie sat with one arm across Mary May’s shoulder while holding on to Hartford’s arm with her other hand.
‘You ain’t seen Boone for two days? Not since you left the farm?’
Hartford pictured them galloping out of the yard, their mouths full of laughter, Mary May’s hair flying behind her in the wind.
‘I told you. I told Mr McGreggor.’ Mary May’s tear-stained face was pale. ‘Why do you keep asking?’
‘After you left the farm. . . ?’
‘Boone said he had to get back to work.’ Mary May sounded weary.
‘So since Friday, Boone has been up in Dallas?’ Hartford felt Annie squeeze his arm, warning him. ‘Could he have come back yesterday, maybe?’
‘You mean without me knowing?’ It took a moment for Mary May to grasp what he was driving at. She pushed Annie’s arm off her shoulder. Her face froze. ‘To do what? To kill my pa? Take him out to Snake’s Creek and put a bullet in him?’ Panic rose up in her and she turned to Annie. ‘Is that what you think too?’
‘Of course not,’ Annie tried to reassure her. ‘Hart doesn’t mean anything by it. He’s just a law man asking questions.’
‘Have you asked anyone else where they were?’ Mary May met Hartford head on. ‘Or is it just Boone you’re after? What about me? I could have shot my pa, couldn’t I? Led him out there and put a bullet in him.’
Her tears broke again and cascaded down her cheeks. She let Annie pull her close as if she didn’t have the strength left to resist.
‘Boone isn’t a bad guy,’ she said quietly. ‘He gets bored easily that’s all. He wants excitement. That’s why he can’t stand being on the farm day after day.’
‘You aren’t going to marry him, are you?’ Annie saw it now. ‘That’s why you came here today to tell him. That’s why you won’t let McGreggor take you home.’
‘I’m sorry, Annie,’ Mary May turned to her friend. ‘We were playing a game, having fun. My pa was riled and that made it even more crazy for us. Who doesn’t want some craziness? We never really meant it.
‘Then one day Boone announces he’s been to see Pearl, told her to decorate the saloon and get hold of a preacher. That sent my pa into a frenzy. Said he’d rather shoot the pair of us rather than see us hitched.’
Her words melted away as she spoke them. In her face was the realization that what Hartford had hinted at could be true.
‘Now come on. Boone could never do something like that.’ Annie fondly squeezed her shoulder, but her kind words rang hollow.
The look Mary May gave Hartford said yes he could.
‘Lots of people. . . .’ Annie stumbled through what she was trying to say. ‘I mean, anyone who owns a spread out here makes enemies. That’s just how it is. I’m telling you, Boone didn’t have it in him. You know that. There’s always rustlers about. It could have been anyone.’
‘I think you should wait here for Boone.’ Hartford took charge. ‘I think you should tell these people there’ll be no wedding and let them go home.’
How typical it was of Boone to make harum-scarum wedding plans which left the whole town in the lurch. How typical of Annie to make excuses for him. On the other hand, even though Mary May was weighed down with grief for her pa, she thought enough of Boone to come here to face him today.
‘If Boone isn’t here by one o’clock, I’ll tell them.’ Mary May got to her feet. Her face was pale and determined. She avoided catching the eye of any of them.
‘Fifteen minutes,’ Annie said. They all looked up at the clock behind the bar.
Mary May crossed the room as if nothing was wrong, smiled politely at people she knew, avoided McGreggor and sat herself down beside the preacher. At the same time, McGreggor strode the length of the saloon until he came face to face with Hartford.
‘You been putting ideas in that poor girl’s head?’ Irritation burned in his face. ‘She should be coming home with me. That brother of yours has let her down.’
‘Outside,’ Hartford snapped. He jumped to his feet, seized McGreggor’s arm and pulled him towards the door.
Across the street Sheriff Milton was still sitting on his porch. As Hartford looked, he pulled out his pocket watch to check the time.
‘If you’ve got something to say to me, then say it.’ McGreggor shook himself free of Hartford’s grasp.
‘Heard you made an offer on the Lazy D,’ Hartford said flatly.
‘Who told you that?’ McGreggor rounded on him.
‘Know for a fact that you’ve been cutting Dunmore’s herd.’
‘What?’ McGreggor saw immediately where this was going.
‘That wouldn’t make Dunmore a friend of yours, now would it?’
Hartford was determined to get an answer out of McGreggor one way or another.
Hartford was well aware that his pa had lived all his life in the shadow of the Lazy D and the McGreggor spread, vast ranches which occupied square mile after square mile. All his life he struggled to make a living on his hundred and fifty acres. His wife died, he endured the war and his health gave out. His sons were no good to him, one left home and the other let the farm decay.
Dunmore could have helped Joe Hartford, but instead he waited until the farm was doomed and then offered to buy him out. McGreggor could have been a good neighbour to Dunmore but instead he shifted the boundary and rustled his cattle. Now McGreggor stood right in front of Hartford, never for a second doubting that his wealth give him every right to be in charge. Hartford fought back the desire to lash out, to dispense with justice, to blame McGreggor for everything. Then out of the corner of his eye, he noticed some movement across the street and he suddenly became aware of the sheriff watching him.
‘Are you accusing me of something?’ McGreggor said sharply.
‘I saw your men changing the Lazy D brand with my own eyes.’ Hartford stood his ground.
McGreggor’s laugh was mocking and humourless.
‘Better sit down while I explain something to you, son.’ He gestured towards a hard chair and took Pops’ wicker for himself. ‘Those beeves were mine. My men reclaimed them. Dunmore altered my brand, I changed it back. Come out to the ranch and take a look if you want.’
‘Same thing on every ranch in Texas. If you ask me that’s why the bosses keep the cowpokes’ wages so low’ Hartford remembered the sheriff’s words.
&n
bsp; McGreggor leaned forward in his chair, rested his arms on his knees and opened his hands as if he was making Hartford a gift of something.
‘Think about it. Why would I need to steal seventy longhorns from the Lazy D? There’s more than a thousand head on my place right now.’
‘Those men on your gate, Logan and the others, they’re the guys who did the rustling,’ Hartford persisted. ‘Sheriff threw Charlie Nudd’s brother in jail.’
McGreggor’s brittle laugh sounded like a cough. ‘When you’ve known Sheriff Milton as long as I have, you’ll understand that the first thing he does is keep the peace. He takes the heat out of things and sorts out the rights and wrongs later. Anyway, Jake Nudd ain’t at all like his brother, a night in the lock-up probably did him some good.’
McGreggor sat back in his chair and stared at Hartford as if he was trying to figure something out.
‘Those guys on your gate . . .’ Hartford tried again.
‘Trust them as far as I could spit,’ McGreggor said. ‘Keeping ’em on the gate makes them feel important and it keeps them out of harm’s way. Never let them near my herd. Whenever Dunmore’s guys stole a few head of mine, I used Logan and the others to get them back.’
‘You moved the boundary fence into Lazy D land.’ Hartford didn’t give up.
‘Same deal.’ The wicker chair creaked as McGreggor shifted his weight. Unused to being challenged, the effort of holding on to his temper showed in his face.
‘We’ve argued over that boundary line for years. Dunmore threatened to report me to the Pinkertons, so I reckoned it was about time I settled the boundary once and for all.’
From inside the saloon, they could hear Mary May’s voice, though not clearly enough to make out what she was saying. Across the street, the sheriff ground out the end of his cigarette under his boot heel and checked his watch again. It must be one o’clock.
The mid-day sunlight bounced off the sandy street, shadows as black as pitch nestled under the porches of the cottonwood buildings. The air was dry and smelled of dust. Heat pressed down on the day. Satisfied that he had got the better of all Hartford’s questions, a narrow smile played on McGreggor’s mouth. Across the street, the sheriff stood up and stared out into the empty prairie.
