Texas Iron

by Robert J. Randisi

  He looked up at her and let his arm drop because he couldn’t hold it out any longer.

  “He’s here someplace,” Sam said. “Will you help me get my pants?”

  “I would help him,” she said, “but I don’t know about you.”

  “Please…”

  She dropped her arms and approached the bed.

  “Sam, you shouldn’t be getting up.”

  “If you don’t help me, I might fall once or twice, but eventually I’ll make it.”

  “You’d do that, wouldn’t you?”

  “Serena,” Sam said, “it’s just a leg wound. I’ve been shot before.”

  She stared at him and then said, “I don’t know why that hadn’t occurred to me before. How many times have you been shot?”

  “Serena—”

  “How many?”

  “Four, maybe five.”

  She stared at him in disbelief.

  “You don’t even remember?”

  “Okay,” he said, “it was five. Now will you help me get dressed?”

  “I’ll get you your clothes,” she said, picking up his pants and flinging them at his face, “but you can dress yourself.”

  As she stalked from the room he pulled his pants from his face and said, “That’ll do.”

  Serena had already alerted Evan and Jubal that Sam was dressing. Dude Miller had gone back to work full time and was at his store.

  “Maybe one of you should go up and help him,” she said, “so that he doesn’t fall down too many times.”

  “He’ll be fine,” Evan said.

  She stamped her foot, surprising them, and said, “That’s what you said last night, and was he all right?”

  “I only meant—”

  “I know what you meant,” she said. “I’ll be in the kitchen making coffee.”

  “What is she so mad about?” Jubal asked.

  “She’s a woman.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Jube,” Evan said, “you’ve made it to twenty-four and you don’t know what that means?”

  Jubal was about to answer when they saw Sam coming down the steps. He looked steady enough and they both remained seated rather than offer him a hand.

  “You’re looking fit,” Evan said.

  Sam reached the floor and limped to a chair.

  “I feel like hell.”

  “You should have stayed in bed.”

  Sam settled himself in the chair and said, “I’d feel worse up there.”

  “I’ve told Jubal what happened,” Evan said. “Is there anything you’d like to add?”

  “Yes,” Sam said. “I don’t believe there’s any gold on Pa’s old land.”

  “No gold?” Jubal asked.

  “Then what do they need a geologist for?” Evan asked.

  Sam told them about the mud he’d found at the stream and the water hole.

  “There was black mud on your pants and your boots.”

  “Yes.”

  “What does it mean?” Jubal asked.

  “Oil,” Evan said.

  “Oil?” Jubal asked.

  Evan looked at Sam.

  “Am I right? Is that what you’re thinking?”

  “Yes,” Sam said. “I saw the geologist run some tests, and then he took some of the mud back to the ranch with him.

  “Oil,” Evan said. “No wonder Burkett wanted that land so badly.”

  “But…how did he know there was oil?”

  “Probably the same way we found out,” Sam said. “He probably did a lot of looking around before deciding what land he wanted.”

  “Did Pa know, I wonder?” Evan said.

  “I was wondering about that myself,” Sam said. “I have a theory.”

  “What theory?”

  “We all knew Pa,” Sam said. “We all agree he wouldn’t kill Ma and then kill himself.”

  “That’s right,” Evan said, and Jubal nodded.

  “But if he thought his life was in danger, what would he do?”

  After a moment Evan said, “I think he’d try to leave us a message.”

  “A message?” Jubal asked. “How?”

  “Yes,” Sam said, looking at his brothers, “how? That’s for us to figure out.”

  At that moment Serena entered, carrying a tray with three steaming cups of coffee on it.

  She offered the tray first to Evan, then to Jubal, and finally walked over to where Sam was seated. For a moment he thought she was going to dump it in his lap, but in the end she held the tray out to him until he took the cup from it.

  “Thank you.”

  “Hmph,” she said, and went back to the kitchen.

  “What’s she so mad about?” he asked.

  “She’s a woman,” Jubal said.

  “Ah,” Sam said, “our little brother is becoming worldly, isn’t he?”

  Jubal smiled, and Evan frowned at him.

  “Sam, where should we look for this message?”

  “As I said, that’s something we’ll have to figure out together.” “What about the house?”

  “What house?” Sam asked Jubal. “The big one?”

  “No, I mean the house they were living in when they were…killed.”

  “That’s certainly a possibility,” Sam said. “We should check the house.”

  “And where else?” Evan asked.

  They all thought about that for a while and then Sam said, “There might be a couple of places.”

  Sam and Evan exchanged a rather meaningful glance that Jubal caught.

  “What?”

  “Well,” Evan said, “there was a certain area where Pa used to take us hunting when we were younger—uh, Sam and me.”

  “Could be he’d leave a message there someplace, figurin’ we’d find it.”

  “Out in the open?” Jubal asked. “Rain might ruin it, or an animal.”

  “Under a rock, maybe,” Evan said.

  “Or in a hollowed-out log,” Sam said. “I suggest we check the house first.”

  “And I suggest we do it together, Sam,” Evan said. “I don’t know if Burkett’s men were acting on their own this time, but there certainly seems to be a lot of people who want you dead.”

  “I agree, Sam,” Jubal said, grinning. “It looks like you need more guarding than Serena.”

  “Serena can take care of herself,” she said, entering the room with a cup of coffee of her own. “I have a gun in my room.”

  “What kind?”

  “A two-shot derringer.”

  “That’s not going to stop anyone with any real resolve,”

  Evan said. “You’d have to place both shots just right.”

  “Evan, why don’t you take Serena to the gunsmith’s shop today and get her a real gun—something she can handle, but something with stopping power.”

  “You’re the gun expert,” Evan said. “Why don’t you take her?”

  They all seemed to ignore the fact that only the night before he’d been shot in the thigh.

  “All right, I will,” Sam said. “My leg could use the exercise.” “Your leg,” Serena said, “could use some rest. Evan will take me.”

  Sam looked at Evan, who simply shrugged.

  “We might as well go now,” Serena said, “before he closes.”

  “What time is it?” Sam asked.

  “It’s almost five,” Serena said. “I’ll fix dinner when I get back.”

  “Almost five?” Sam asked, dismayed. “The whole damned day is gone. Why didn’t you get me up sooner?”

  “You needed the rest!” Serena said as a parting shot. She and Evan went out the front door.

  When they were gone Sam rubbed his aching leg and glared at Jubal.

  “Don’t look at me. She wouldn’t let us wake you up.”

  “Big, strong men,” Sam said, still rubbing his thigh.

  “Who patched me up?”

  “Doc Leader. I had to drag him over here to do it, and he charged—well, a lot.”

  “Who paid?”
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  “Me and Evan.”

  “I owe you.

  “Yes, you do.”

  Sam finished his coffee, set the empty cup aside, and stood up.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Go upstairs,” Sam said. “When Evan gets back we can ride out to the house.”

  “You going to sleep?”

  “No,” Sam said, “I’m gonna clean my guns.”

  As Sam negotiated the steps slowly Jubal thought that sounded like a damned good idea.

  Evan and Serena argued and finally settled on a .34 caliber Colt Paterson. It had stopping power but was light enough for Serena to control. They bought her a holster for it.

  “I feel silly,” she said, trying it on.

  “Better to be silly than dead,” Evan said.

  “I’m not a fast gun.”

  “A holster is just something to carry a gun in,” Evan said. “You’re not required to get it out quickly, just efficiently.” “Did Sam tell you that?”

  “Actually, no,” Evan said. “It might surprise you to know that I’ve had a few gun battles of my own and survived. I was always able to make my first shot count by not rushing it.”

  “You’ve killed people?”

  “You forget what happened earlier this week.”

  “That was different.”

  “It was? How?”

  “It was self-defense.”

  “I’ve only ever killed in self-defense, Serena.”

  “I don’t know if I could—”

  “Serena,” Evan said, “what do you suppose would have happened if you’d been wearing that gun the night those three men dragged your father from the house?”

  Without hesitation she said, “I would have killed them!”

  She looked shocked at her own words and he grinned.

  “See?”

  “Shut up.”

  Sam had his guns laid out on the bed and was cleaning the rifle when Evan entered the room. The rifle was his own Winchester, and not one from the gunsmith shop.

  “Did you get her fixed up?”

  Evan sat on the bed and watched his brother work on the rifle.

  “Yes. We got her a Colt Paterson, .35 caliber.”

  “Good choice.”

  “She wanted something bigger, and I wanted her to have something smaller. We compromised.”

  “Compromising with a woman is a real bad habit to get into.”

  “Don’t worry,” Evan said. “I don’t intend to make a habit of it.”

  He took out a deck of cards and began to deal a game of solitaire on the bed while Sam picked up his pistol and began to clean it.

  “You know,” Sam said, “I always envied your ability with a deck of cards.”

  “What?” Evan asked, surprised.

  “I like to play poker,” Sam said, “but I’m no damned good at it. I haven’t got the patience to sit out a hand and wait for the next one.”

  “You can work on that.”

  Sam shook his head and said, “I’m too old a dog for that.”

  There was a few moments of silence and then Evan said, “That’s funny.”

  “What is?”

  “That you should envy me.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, more than once since we arrived I’ve felt sort of…resentful of you.”

  Sam looked up from what he was doing, then put the gun down and sat across from his brother.

  “Resentful? Why?”

  Evan told Sam what had taken place in the saloon at the poker game, with the loser backing down because Evan was “Sam McCall’s brother.” Then he told him that the same thing had happened when he ran into John Burkett, Chuck Conners, and the geologist.

  Sam stared at his brother and then said, “I guess there ain’t much I can do about that, Evan.”

  “I know,” Evan said. “It’s just that it hasn’t happened very often. Now, I sort of wonder why.”

  “I suspect you’ve always been able to take care of yourself,” Sam said. “In the circle you travel in, you must have a rep of your own.”

  “I guess I do,” Evan said. “I can’t imagine what it’s like to carry the rep you do.”

  “It keeps people at a distance,” Sam said. “I can count my friends on the fingers of one hand.”

  “Well, so can I, and I don’t have a rep to blame it on.”

  “Maybe it just runs in the family. Pa never had that many real friends that I can remember.”

  “No, and I don’t guess that Jube does, either,” Evan said. “I suppose we’re lucky to have one another.”

  Sam laughed and said, “Maybe we just like each other because we never see each other.”

  “That could be.”

  Sam stood up, picked up his gun, and slid it into the oiled leather holster. He strapped the gun on and then picked up the rifle. Sensing what was coming, Evan collected his cards and put them away.

  “Let’s take that ride out to the house,” Sam said.

  “Can you ride?”

  “Don’t worry,” Sam said. “I’ll manage to stay mounted.”

  In the end, gun or no gun, they decided that Serena would go with them. When they reached the house and dismounted they all heard Sam groan as he put his weight on his right leg. He’d managed not to moan aloud when he mounted, but this time the sound escaped from him before he could stop it.

  Evan and Jubal ignored the sound. Serena opened her mouth to say something, then thought better of it.

  They entered the house and took the place in at a glance.

  “There aren’t many places something could be hidden,”

  Jubal said.

  “There are no floorboards,” Evan said. “Let’s try thedrawers, and under the tables. Check and see if there are any loose stones on the fireplace.”

  “I’ll check outside,” Jubal said.

  Serena walked around, looking in things like sugar bowls and teapots.

  Sam and Evan started at the same point and worked their way around in opposite directions. When they came face to face they both had the same thing to report.

  “Nothin’,” Sam said.

  They looked over at Serena, who shrugged and shook her head.

  “I’ll check outside with Jubal,” Evan said.

  When they were alone Serena said, “Maybe we’re looking in the wrong places.”

  “We’re lookin’ anywhere a piece of paper could be hidden,” Sam said, “and that’s anywhere.”

  Sam walked about studying the hard-packed dirt floor, checking to see if there was anyplace where something might have been buried. He was finished when Evan and Jubal came back in.

  “Nothing outside.”

  Sam looked up at the ceiling and said, “Just for the sake of being thorough we’d better check the roof.”

  “Who’s going to go up on the roof?” Evan asked.

  “Well, I can’t,” Sam said. “I’ve been shot in the leg, remember?” Evan looked at Jubal.

  “Why me?”

  “Because you’re the youngest.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Your balance is better,” Evan said. “You’re the least likely to fall off.”

  “Oh, never mind all this,” Serena said. “I’ll go up on the roof. Jubal, help me up.”

  The roof was low, and it took only a boost from Jubal to get Serena up.

  “Check the chimney,” Sam said. “There might be a loose stone.”

  They waited while Serena checked the roof, and then when she was ready to come down both Evan and Jubal reached up for her and helped her.

  “Nothing?” Evan asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “We’ll have to check that area you said Pa liked to hunt,” Jubal said.

  “Yes, but we’ll have to do it tomorrow,” Evan said. “It’ll be dark soon.”

  “If you men want to eat,” Serena said, “we’ll have to get back so I can cook.”

  “Why don’t we go somewhere and eat?” Evan suggested.
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br />   “You have something against my cooking?” Serena asked.

  “Of course not,” Evan said. “I just thought you could use a break.”

  “Well,” Serena said, “it doesn’t sound like a completely bad idea. Where shall we go?”

  “Is there anyplace decent to eat?” Evan asked.

  “Well,” she said, thoughtfully, “there is one place.”

  “The hotel?” Jubal asked.

  “Oh, no,” Serena said, making a face, “certainly not. There’s a small café run by a friend of mine.”

  “Well, then,” Sam said, “let’s get back to town.”

  He didn’t want to let on how weak he felt, or how much his thigh was aching. When they got back to town he’d beg off from dinner. He had no appetite.

  No appetite for anything but revenge. His wound, and the sickly feeling that accompanied it, could not extinguish that.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Normally a patient man, Coffin was becoming impatient. A man could have just so much food, drink, gambling and women—even when they were all free.

  Lincoln Burkett had given Coffin an unlimited line of credit wherever he went in town. Coffin, to the surprise of the merchants involved, did not abuse the privilege. It was plain to see what kind of man Coffin was, and the townspeople moved out of his way when he walked down the street, much the way they moved for Sam McCall. McCall, however, had come from Vengeance Creek, and they had known his parents. Coffin was a stranger, and no one knew what to expect from him.

  They certainly didn’t expect what they got.

  When he ate in the hotel dining room or a restaurant, he was courteous and quiet. When he drank in the saloon he did so alone, and when he played cards he did so quietly and efficiently.

  When he went to the whorehouse he treated the girls well, and though he did not have to pay he always gave them something.

  In the span of a few days Coffin actually had some of the people of Vengeance Creek liking him.

  Now he was growing impatient. He never liked staying in one place too long.

  Coffin was having dinner in the cafe when Evan, Jubal, and Serena entered. Dude Miller had opted to stay home, and as he had planned, Sam had begged off and gone tohis hotel room. Miller had offered him a room at the house, but Sam had refused. If some of Burkett’s men came for him again—which seemed more likely every minute—he didn’t want Dude Miller or Serena caught in the crossfire.

  In the morning, if he felt strong enough, Sam planned on riding out to see Lincoln Burkett. If the man really wanted him dead, he’d give him the chance to do it himself. As they entered the café Jubal saw Coffin, who nodded to him.