“If you want to find Dunn and Lute, it’s what I’d do,” Fred said.
“Enough.” Tyree was tired of talking about it. “I said I would and I will. But I don’t have to like it.”
“Ethel sounds like a good woman,” Fred remarked.
“That she does,” Aces said.
Tyree got it then. They wanted him to act nice for the wife’s benefit, to be considerate to spare her any suffering. But what about his own suffering? he asked himself.
“Your ma was a good woman, wasn’t she?” Fred said.
Tyree gave him a cold stare. “That was low.”
“She was, don’t you reckon?”
“Don’t you dare compare them,” Tyree said. “It won’t soften me. Did Tucker stop Dunn and Lute from killin’ them? He did not.”
“Ethel wasn’t there,” Fred said.
“So you’re sayin’ I shouldn’t cause her misery over somethin’ her husband did or didn’t do.”
“That’s only fair,” Fred said.
“And right,” Aces echoed.
“As friends you are pitiful,” Tyree declared.
“You don’t mean that,” Fred said, “so we won’t hold it against you.”
No, Tyree didn’t, but it still irritated him that they preferred he tread easy when he yearned to storm into the kitchen, seize Tucker by the throat, and shake him until his teeth rattled.
“If Tucker knows where to find Dunn and Lute, you’re going after them, aren’t you?” Aces said.
“Need you even ask?”
“I reckon I’ll hold off lookin’ for work for a while, then,” the cowboy said, and grinned.
Tyree slumped in the settee. Aces was only trying to cheer him up, but he was beyond that. His emotions were all in a whirl. It was if he were being torn in all different directions at once.
“I’ve heard a good woman can do that to a man,” Fred said to Aces. “First time I came across it.”
“He loves her—that’s for sure,” Aces said.
“I never could find a woman for me,” Fred said. “Too particular, I reckon. Or too set in my ways. Females like a man they can change to suit them. One look at me and women see I’m hopeless.”
“I have hopes, one day,” Aces said.
“You do?” Fred chuckled. “Why, you romantic cowpoke, you.”
“There comes a time when a feller gets tired of keepin’ his own company under the blankets at night,” Aces said wistfully. “A lot of late, I’ve thought about findin’ a filly and hangin’ out the feed bag.”
“That’s all she’d be to you?” Fred teased. “A cook?”
“A good woman can be everything to a man,” Aces said. “His reason for gettin’ up in the mornin’. Hell, his reason for breathin’.”
“Listen to yourself,” Tyree said.
“What do you know, youngster?” Fred said. “When you’re old like us, then you can talk. We know what we know. And I tell you now that if you ever find a woman as good as this Ethel, you hold on to her like she was the rarest jewel on earth. Because, as God is my witness, she is.”
“Amen,” Aces said.
That was when Ethel appeared, her apron gone, smiling timidly. “Supper is served, gentlemen. If you would follow me?”
Tyree jumped up. “Where’s your husband?” he demanded, afraid that Tucker had done the same as Moses and taken flight.
“Carving the beef. I would do it myself, but he’s much better with a butcher knife.” Ethel held up a hand and moved her fingers. “I have a touch of arthritis. It impairs me sometimes.”
“With me it’s gout,” Fred Hitch said. “Some days my feet pain me so I want to chop them off.”
“That would be gruesome,” Ethel said.
“Show us your husband,” Tyree said, earning pointed glances from both Fred and Aces.
A troubled look came over Ethel, but she smiled and motioned. “Right this way. Mind the cat if he’s around. He likes to rub against your leg. I nearly trip over him on occasion. His name is Whiskers.”
Tyree was in no mood for a cat on top of everything else. Fortunately for the feline it didn’t appear. Tyree made it a point to hook a thumb in his gun belt close to his holster as he entered the kitchen. A butcher knife could carve more than beef.
George Tucker was just setting a large plate with slices of meat on the table. “All set, dearest,” he announced. “I filled the water glasses too.”
“Isn’t he wonderful?” Ethel said to them.
“A good man is like a good woman,” Fred said. “They make each other’s lives a lot happier.”
“Why, Mr. Hitch,” Ethel said. “That was sweet.”
“Did you call him good?” Tyree said to Fred.
Everyone froze except for Ethel. “My George has been good to me, yes.” She came to Fred’s defense. “All these years, I’ve never had a complaint. So I’ll thank you not to take that tone. It seems to me you have a burr under your skin, Mr. Larn, and it would please me greatly if you would pluck it out.”
Tyree hovered on the cusp of fury. He couldn’t help himself. Now after so long, after enduring so much.
Unwittingly Ethel said the very thing it would take to cool the heat of his resentment. “I’d warrant your own mother would say that going around mad at the world is a poor way to be.”
“My mother would,” Fred said quickly. “All good mothers feel that way, and your ma was a good woman, wasn’t she, Tyree? Just like Mrs. Finch here.”
Tyree felt a constriction in his throat. “I’d imagine so,” he said, coming out of himself. “I apologize, ma’am. I reckon I have a burr, at that.”
Relief showed on Fred’s and Aces’s faces.
On George Tucker’s too, who patted the top of a chair. “Have a seat, gentlemen, and we can begin.”
It was a fine meal. Tyree couldn’t remember the last time he had home cooking, unless it was when he had made the acquaintance of that man in St. Louis who told him there was money to be made in bounty work.
The beef had been bought that very day, Ethel mentioned. There were potatoes smeared in butter and carrots and peas. She’d baked the bread that morning. For dessert there was pudding Tyree had never tasted—butterscotch. He forgot himself so much he ate fit to burst.
George Tucker seemed pleased by that. “You have quite the appetite, son,” he remarked.
Just like that, Tyree’s anger came crashing back. He realized Tucker was doing as Fred always did, that calling him “son” didn’t mean anything. But he couldn’t stop himself from saying harshly, “Don’t ever call me that, you hear?”
“I didn’t mean anything,” Tucker said.
“There you go with your burr again, young man,” Ethel said.
Tyree felt the need to explain. “I lost my folks when I was little. I don’t like for anyone to call me son. Not even Marshal Hitch there, and we’ve been ridin’ together for a while now.”
“Mr. Hitch is a lawman?”
“That I am,” Fred said cheerfully. Reaching into his pocket, he produced his badge and pinned it on. “I keep forgettin’ to wear this.”
“Does whatever you have to talk to my husband about have to do with the law?” Ethel asked in obvious concern.
Fred laughed. “I’m not here to arrest him, if that’s what you’re thinkin’.”
“It has to do with me,” Tyree said.
“Oh. Well. That’s a relief,” Ethel said.
Tyree did something he hadn’t done all night. He laughed too.
Chapter 30
The moment, at long last, came.
After supper they sat in the parlor making small talk. Marshal Hitch did most of the talking. He brought up the celebration for statehood, the railroad, even how ladies didn’t wear bonnets as often as they used to. That last, Tyree figured, was for Ethel’s
benefit.
Tyree hardly said a word. Aces wasn’t very gabby either.
By the grandfather clock in the corner, it was pushing ten o’clock when Ethel announced that she must excuse herself. She was so tired she could hardly keep her eyes open. She added, pointedly, that she hoped their guests didn’t keep her husband up much longer, as he needed his rest too.
“We’ll be going soon, ma’am,” Fred assured her.
Tucker rose, tenderly clasped her hand, and guided her to the hall. “Off you go, my dear. I’ll be up shortly.”
“I’m so sorry,” Ethel said.
“Nonsense. You gave us a fine meal and fine company.” Tucker kissed her on the cheek. “Now please. I shouldn’t be more than half an hour. I promise.”
“Very well,” Ethel said, not sounding happy about it. She glanced nervously at Tyree. “Good night to you, Mr. Larn. I do hope that burr is gone.”
“Pleasant dreams,” Tyree forced himself to say.
Tucker kissed her other cheek and Ethel made for the stairs. He waited as she climbed.
“Half an hour, no more,” Ethel called down.
Tucker smiled and nodded and slowly returned to the settee, moving as might a man walking to the gallows. Taking a seat, he folded his hands in his lap. “I reckon we should get on with it.”
“About damn time,” Tyree said. Sitting out supper had been bad enough. Listening to their gab had tested his patience to its limits, and he was simmering. “No more delays, you hear? I want to know about my ma and my pa, and I want to know now.”
“First I have to ask,” Tucker said, “how did Moses know where I am?”
“He’s here in Cheyenne,” Fred said. “He saw you at the store.”
“How did you find him?”
Tyree held up a hand to stop the lawman from answering. “Didn’t you hear me, mister? Forget that old bastard. He’s an outlaw, like you, and doesn’t count for anything.”
“Like I was, you mean,” Tucker said. “I gave up the wild life a long time ago. The day I met Ethel, in fact. She—”
“I swear,” Tyree said.
Aces had been quiet a long while, but now he stirred. “Mr. Tucker, you’d be right smart to get to it. You can see how much it means to him.”
“We know that a couple of gents named Dunn and Lute were involved,” Fred said, “but that’s all we know.”
“Dunn and Lute,” Tucker said, and shuddered. “As evil a pair as ever drew breath. I’m not exaggeratin’ either. They are evil through and through. Some folks like to say there’s no such thing as evil, but I’ve rode with it and talked to it and seen it with my very own eyes.” He looked at Tyree. “It was evil that killed your folks, and that evil is still alive.”
“Start with them,” Tyree said. “Start with why.”
“Why else?” Tuckered said. “For the valuables. The law was after Dunn and Lute and they needed travelin’ money. So they went around robbin’ most everyone they came across. That night it was your pa’s farm. He invited us to supper, and . . .” Tucker stopped.
“I want it all,” Tyree said.
“I rode some with Dunn and Lute in those days,” Tucker said. “I didn’t like either, but I was scared not to. I was afraid they’d kill me if I crossed them. That’s how evil they are.”
“Enough about the evil,” Tyree said.
“If I’d had more gumption, I wouldn’t have been with them that night. As it was, what happened at your pa’s place gave me the gumption I needed to mend my ways. You see—”
“You’ve strayed again,” Tyree said. “My pa and my ma and me.”
“Oh. As I just told you, we rode up and your pa asked us to supper. He had no idea who we were. He was just being friendly. But Dunn didn’t like it when your folks wouldn’t let Lute in, and that might be what set him off.”
“Back up,” Tyree said. “Why not?”
“They didn’t want a black man at their table. Somethin’ to do with the War Between the States, and how it would upset your ma.”
Tyree vaguely recollected his uncle telling him that their family fought for the South and lost some of their menfolk to Yankee bullets.
“Anyway, Dunn shot your pa, Lute shot your ma, and that left you, a swaddlin’ infant. Dunn said since they’d killed the others, it was my turn. He wanted me to kill you right there in front of him.”
“The hell you say,” Fred said. “And Tyree a baby.”
“I felt the same,” Tucker said. He closed his eyes and put his fingers to them. “It haunts me. I see it when I’m awake. I dream it when I’m asleep. I see the blood, and feel it on my hands. I feel the same fear. But I had to do it, or they’d have shot me.”
“You mentioned tryin’ to save him,” Fred said.
Tyree wished the lawman would shut up.
Tucker lowered his hand and nodded bleakly. He looked Tyree in the eye, his own eyes misting again. “Dunn wanted me to shoot you. One shot to the head and it would have been over. But I said no, I’d rather just slit your throat.”
“Awful kind of you,” Tyree said.
“Hear me out,” Tucker said. “I was thinkin’ fast, faster than I’ve ever thought in my life. Rackin’ my brain for some way to spare you. You were a baby, for Pete’s sake. I didn’t want that on my conscience.”
“I think I see where this is going,” Fred said.
Tyree didn’t. “How was slittin’ my throat any different from shootin’ me in the head?”
“I couldn’t fake the shootin’,” Tucker said. “I’d have to point the gun at you and squeeze the trigger and they’d see the slug splatter your brains. But with a knife there was a chance I could fool them.” He paused, and a tear trickled down a cheek. “What I did was I drew my clasp knife and opened it. When I hesitated, Dunn said he knew I didn’t have it in me, that I was a weak sister, and he had half a mind to do me and the baby both. So I held you close to me”—and Tucker imitated how he had held Tyree close to his chest—“but turned some, so Dunn didn’t have a good look at your face and neck. And I cut you, quicklike.”
“You miserable buzzard.”
“I saved your life,” Tucker declared, and uttered a low sob. “I cut you along your jawbone instead of across your throat. Cut you deep so there was a lot of blood. So much of it Dunn couldn’t tell if I had or I hadn’t. The shock made you pass out, so when I showed you to him, it looked as if I’d done the deed.”
“That was damn clever,” Fred said.
“And dangerous,” Aces said.
Tyree let the revelation sink in. All these years, he’d thought the killers had botched killing him. Now he learned that it had been botched on purpose to save him.
“I set you on the floor and suggested we get the hell out of there,” Tucker related. “That if we were caught with a dead baby, we’d be strung up faster than Dunn could blink.” He swallowed, hard. “I was afraid he’d take a look at you and see that I had tried to trick them.”
“You rode off and left a baby lyin’ in its own blood,” Tyree said in undisguised disgust.
“If I hadn’t, I’d have been lyin’ there with you.” Tucker pressed his hands together as if he were about to pray. “Don’t you see, boy? If I hadn’t done anything, Dunn or Lute or both would have killed you and me. That’s how evil they are.”
“We’re back to that again.”
“We never left it. Evil is real. And there are evil people in this world. People like Dunn and Lute. They have no regard for anyone. They murder and they steal and to them it’s nothin’. It’s just what they do.”
“I feel sorry for what those two put you through,” Fred said.
“I brought it on myself,” Tucker said. “I should have refused to ride with them. Or left Missouri. But Dunn was right. I was a weak sister. I didn’t have the gumption. Not until he made me cut the baby.” He wr
ung his hands. “I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to be shed of them. So when we reached St. Louis, I slipped away one night and headed west on my own. I gave up the owl-hoot trail once and for good.”
“From outlaw to clerk,” Tyree said.
“It doesn’t pay much, but it’s good, honest work and we get by, Ethel and me. She helps by sewin’ and knittin’. Truth is, she’s everything to me. I wouldn’t want to live without her.”
“You said that already,” Tyree said.
“Cut that out,” Fred scolded him. “He came clean with you, didn’t he? Show some respect.”
“For the man who gave me this?” Tyree touched his scar.
“You say you don’t like to be called a boy,” Marshal Hitch said. “Fine. Act like a man, then. And a man would forgive Tucker for what he did.”
“A man would, pard,” Aces said.
Tyree didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing. He’d held on to his hate for so long, he couldn’t just shed it the way he shed his socks.
Tucker wasn’t paying attention to them. He said quietly, “I got a scare about three years ago. I found out Dunn and Lute were in Wyoming Territory. For a while I thought they might be after me, but I haven’t seen hide nor hair of them. They’ve left me be, thank goodness.”
“Where are they?” Fred asked.
“Up in the Teton country,” Tucker said. “They have their own gang. They raid a lot up in Montana and over in Utah and always come back to Robbers Roost, as it’s called. A town of nothin’ but robbers and killers.”
“Where is the law in all this?” Aces asked.
“I’ve heard where federal marshals go into the Roost from time to time, but those who are wanted always scatter before the marshals get there and come back after the marshals are gone.”
“Now that Wyoming is a state, maybe the government will form a company of rangers like they have down to Texas,” Fred said.
“That wouldn’t stop or scare Dunn and Lute,” Tucker said.
Tyree was making up his mind about something. All these years, he’d longed to put a slug into the man who’d cut him. He’d imagined it countless times, daydreamed about how fine it would feel. Here the man sat. All he had to do was pull a Colt and shoot. But now that he’d learned the truth, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. “I am mightily confused,” he said out loud.
Ralph Compton the Evil Men Do Page 22
