Revenge Requires Two Graves

by George Emery Townsend

  Chapter 5

  Going Home

  There was a small path just wide enough for a single horse that headed out of the back of their hiding spot. With the horses packed, Ray, Larry, and John made their way out of the spot and down a slippery slope to the river’s edge. There they broke through the thin ice on the shore, riding in the deeper portions of the stream for a while to hide their tracks. The water was still very cold but the horses didn’t seem to mind as they waded down the stream. Fortunately the river’s edge was shallow enough for them to travel several miles before having to leave the river. The trackers should be busy for quite some time trying to determine which way the three had gone. A few yards from the edge of the water, the boys stopped to give the horses a blow, eat some leftover cold venison from last night’s cook fire and to dream of a hot cup of coffee. They didn't dare build a fire with the other riders so close. After a short time the boys headed out from the direction of the river and into the woods. At times the Birch trees had grown so close together they’d have to ride in a zigzag motion to get through, riding two miles out off course just to move forward one. Because Ray loved this country so much he knew he was really going to miss it. He realized with all the fighting and killing there was no way he could stay. Before he headed out of Wisconsin, he knew there was only one thing he had to do: make sure his Ma was safe and that no one would be bothering her.

  They rode wide of any direct routes in order to avoid the lumbermen or gun hands that might be looking for them. That night the three of them huddled around a small fire to stay warm. Even though the branches would break up the smoke, they didn’t dare have a larger fire and take a chance of unfriendly visitors in the night. As Ray sat wide-awake shivering from his hat to his boots, all he could think about was Bradford Foster. How he had killed his Pa over nothing more than land. And that damn daughter of his, Ray still didn't know what to do about her. He knew what he wanted to do, but no one took kindly to hitting a female. If anyone had it coming, though, it was she.

  The next morning couldn’t have come soon enough. They felt their bodies beginning to come back to life after some hot coffee and venison. Breaking camp Ray, Larry and John headed south for home, figuring they should be arriving late, which would be good. They knew at least a few people in the settlement would probably like to see them dead.

  The sun had set, but with a full moon over head they were able to crisscross the trees until they reached the backside of Ray’s parents' cabin. It had been one of the last built in the area, which placed them out on the fringe, with their backyard being the entire Northwest. The first cabins were built nearer the mill and close together for safety. As time went by and more people arrived, the cabins spread out to the north.

  The three riders dismounted and headed for the back wall of the cabin. They entered through the back door into a small room where they always removed their boots and winter jackets so as not to track snow and mud into Mildred’s clean house. From the small room they entered the sitting room - the main room down the center of the cabin with a big open fireplace to help cut the cold Wisconsin winters. Off the main room there were two bedrooms on the left and one larger bedroom on the back right. The kitchen sat on the right side up in the front of the cabin. Ray’s Ma wanted the kitchen in the front with two windows that looked out over the settlement, so Emery had built her one on the south and one on the west corner of the cabin. Emery liked to tell everyone that she could always be found in the kitchen because she was watching out the windows for her beloved. The truth was when she wasn’t visiting, cutting wood, or digging in her garden, she enjoyed sitting at the kitchen table writing. She did keep an eye open for him to return at the end of the day but mostly she sat in the kitchen because the stove in the kitchen was easier to keep warm than feeding the large fireplace. Emery and Ray found it fun to try and sneak peeks at what she was writing, but she would always run them off with a wooden spoon.

  “When it’s done you can read it, and not before,” she would always say.

  The boys tiptoed into the main room. The first thing that hit Ray was the warmth of the fireplace. It was pretty much the way it looked when his Pa and he had left, except something was different. The moonlight coming into the room cast strange shadows, and for a moment Ray felt like a small boy, afraid of the dark, but only for a moment.

  As their eyes adjusted to the dark, Ray heard snoring coming from his Ma’s bedroom. Touching John and Larry's shoulders to get their attention, he drew his pistol from its holster and headed for the bedroom door. Gun in his right hand and doorknob in his left, Ray twisted the knob. Pushing the door open with a smooth step, Ray quickly and quietly entering the room. Ray moved to the right. He didn’t want to make himself a target in the moonlit doorway. The snoring grew much louder as he entered the room. His mother had not snored a day in her life and definitely not like this. It had to be an intruder, but why would he be sleeping in this house? He approached the figure on the bed with his gun ready. That's when his anger burst to the surface. Ray had been stepped on for the last time. He placed the business end of the barrel against the sleeper's temple. The cold steel immediately silenced the snoring.

  “By God, Don't shoot mister, please don't shoot. I got kids to care for. You can take whatever you want but please don't hurt me,” shuddered the man.

  Ray recognized the voice right away, “Gus, Gus Hendricks, is that you?”

  “Sure as hell is!” he answered.

  “You got about two seconds to tell me why you're in my Ma's bed!” Ray demanded.

  “Your Ma's bed? Hell boy, what are you talking about, your Ma’s gone, and by the way, you and your Pa are supposed to be dead. Is your Pa with you too?”

  “No, he’s not with me,” said Ray not wanting to admit that his Pa was dead to the likes of this vermin. “Now talk and talk quick. Where is my Ma and what are you doin’ in my cabin?”

  “Well those Sons-a-bitches done told everyone that you and your Pa were dead. Your Ma decided to go to a sister out in California. Nothin’ else she could do with no money, no man, and no family.”

  “What do you mean no money; she had this cabin and the land up north.”

  “Not no more. Foster had his attorney prove your Pa claimed that land while he was workin’ for the Company. That made the land Mr. Foster’s. I think the only money she had was the money I gave her for this here place,” explained Gus.

  “And I’m sure you were most generous because she was a woman needing help. How much did you pay her for the cabin?” Ray asked pointedly.

  “Well I don't like talkin’ about my money affairs with people,” mumbled Gus.

  Ray pushed the barrel harder against his temple.

  “Okay, Okay damn it, I gave her a hundred dollars,” said Gus.

  “You know this place is worth three times that,” Ray shouted.

  “What is it Gus, are you having a bad dream,” said Mrs. Hendricks in a groggy sleep.

  “Just go back to sleep, I’m just dealin’ with some son’s-a-bitches, that got things all wrong,” said Gus.

  “Yes dear,” was all Mrs. Hendricks had to say as she fell back into a deep sleep.

  “Now Ray, I know it might be a little under the price but a deals a deal,” sneered Gus.

  “Gus, a gun is a gun, which deal do you want?” Ray said, as he pulled back the hammer of his .44.

  “Well by God, this just ain’t fair, but, but I see your point." Gus stuttered. "Anyway, my conscience been botherin’ me so, over there on the table is a hundred dollars, take it and give it to your Ma,” whinnied Gus as several beads of sweat rolled down his face.

  John moved over to the small table and found the money. He walked back over, handing the bills to Ray.

  “Ray, I'm a gonna tell you one thing. I've worked for the company for a long time. I had to be tough to keep my job, but I always respected your Pa.,” said Gus as he stared out of the corner of his eyes at the gun, “He was a hard workin’ man and honest as t
he day is long. Most people around here pretty much figured Mr. Foster done cheated your Pa out of that land. Some day he just might have to pay for his bad dealins’.”

  “Maybe that day has come Gus!” finished Ray.

  As the three boys began to back out of the room Ray told Gus, “Just go back to sleep now Gus, pretend we were never here. If I see you stepping out of this room, it will be the last thing you ever do.”

  “I ain’t goin’ no place,” swore Gus as he felt the cold steel leave his temple.

  Once outside Ray sent Larry and John to the horses, while he went around the cabin to the front door. Right on schedule Gus came stepping quietly out the front door.

  “Well Gus, you just couldn't let it alone, could you,” Ray whispered.

  “Don't kill me; I had to warn Foster, if you kill him I'm out of a job.”

  “All that talk about Pa and respectin’ him only goes as far as your wallet, doesn't it Gus?”

  “Well, byyyy God! I got two little ones sleepin’ in that back bedroom and a missus to think about.”

  “Turn around Gus,” Ray demanded. Gus turned white in the moonlight. “Now I know you ain’t no back shooter,” said Gus, his voice tinged with both fear and hope.

  “Lucky for you, you’re right. Not that you haven't earned it,” Ray said as he laid his colt across the back of Gus’s head. Gus dropped like a rag doll onto the porch. “I guess you can snore on the cold porch as well as in that warm bed.”

  Ray walked around to the back of the cabin and joined Larry and John. Climbing into the saddle he told them, “Let’s go visit the Fosters.”

  Weaving their way across the settlement without being seen, they tied their horses loosely to the small white picket fence that surrounded the two-story mansion. Foster made a lot of money and he liked to show it off. He had the very best shipped in from as far-away as New York and Chicago and it was the only building in the settlement that had a coat of paint on it.

  It was late but there was still a light on in the house. The boys started up the row of steps that lead to the porch. At the front door Ray told the guys to move to the corners of the porch and wait for him outside. If all of them entered together it might frighten the occupants into making a play. Once his partners were hidden in the shadows of the porch, Ray knocked on the front door. There was no answer so he knocked harder. Ray stopped knocking when he heard footsteps approaching the door from inside. The door cracked open only enough for a partial face to appear.

  “Who are you and what are you doing here after the proper time to call?” asked the voice.

  “Tell your boss he has company!” Ray said gruffly.

  “Mr. Foster has retired for the evening. Come back in the morning if you want to see him.”

  “Will this shit never end,” cussed Ray as he pushed the door open and knocked the little man back onto the floor. “Where the hell is he or do I have to tear this place apart lookin’ for him?”

  “Sir, you must leave, the family has retired,” said the small man as he picked himself up from the floor.

  “I'll leave once I’ve talked to Foster,” then at the top of his lungs Ray began calling out, “FOSTER! FOSTER! I want to talk to you, right now!”

  The small man grabbed Ray’s arm with the look of fear in his eyes, “Please sir, Mr. Foster is a very dangerous man, please don't anger him.”

  “He's right boy, you shouldn't bring me to anger,” came a voice from the doorway just to the right behind of Ray. “Now turn around nice and slow.”

  As Ray turned around he found himself looking down the barrel of a loaded .44 with large hands gripping the ivory handle. A tall wide man that seemed to fill the doorway was holding the gun. He was dressed as if he was going out to a big city play.

  “Phillip, you may leave us now. This boy will not be causin’ any more trouble.”

  The small man sprinted from the hall before Foster had finished speaking.

  “Well, if this isn't the brat I been lookin’ for. You’ve cost me money boy and a lot of lost time. I’d be in my rights if I shot you right where you stand.”

  “Go ahead Pa! Shoot him!” burst an excited voice from behind Ray.

  Ray turned slightly to look over his shoulder. Standing at the top of the stairs with a bright lantern behind her stood Samantha. She was only wearing a thin nightgown, which was transparent due to the glow of light behind her. This evil girl had helped murder his Pa and amazingly Ray still found her mesmerizing. After taking all her figure in Ray felt her cold eyes digging into him like daggers. They contained a bitter hatred combined with a sick sort of excitement at what might happen to him next. She had the look of someone that took a lot of pleasure from the pain and suffering of others.

  “Shoot the son-of-a-bitch right between the eyes Pa! Better yet, let me shoot him!” Samantha said with that same sick smile Ray had seen when she rode away from Crystal Lake.

  “You go back to bed, my dear, and remember what I told you, a lady doesn’t talk or act like that,” her Pa said indulgently, ignoring the level of insanity his daughter was exhibiting.

  Ignoring her Pa, she walked all the way down the stairs coming to a stop directly in front of Ray.

  He was dumb founded, frozen; this girl confused him to no end. Ray had never known anyone who thought or acted like she did. Looking him directly in the eyes and with a small smile she told Ray, “Good bye little boy.”

  “Samantha! I said go upstairs!” yelled her Pa as he took his eyes off of Ray and grabbed her arm with his left hand pushing her towards the stairs.

  When Ray saw the gun in Foster’s right hand moved off target he took the opportunity to pull his Colt from its holster and brought it down hard onto Foster’s right wrist. Foster dropped his gun with a groan of pain and without hesitation he dove for the spinning gun near his feet. As he dove past Ray, Ray raised his knee hard into Foster’s face flattening his nose with a crack. Foster slumped down and rolled over against the wall. Blood was running down his face and through his fingers, which were cupped around his nose. He shook his head a few times to push out the cob webs and came off the floor with fists that looked like sledge hammers.

  “You bastard! I'll kill you for that!”

  “No, Mr. Foster, tonight, I'm not the one who is going to die.”

  Foster’s eyes suddenly registered that Ray had the drop on him and that he was about to die. “Boy, look you don't want to do this, you can have anything you want.”

  With a quiet steady voice, Ray said. “I want my Pa back.”

  Foster, beginning to panic said, “It was not my doing, I didn't want him dead. I just wanted him out of the way. Maybe hurt a little so he wouldn't bother the lumberin’. I would have paid him a fair price for the land once the cutting began.”

  Ray looked down at the gun Foster had dropped at his feet and kicked it across the floor to the blubbering giant. What once was a man that Ray had feared was now someone who repulsed him.

  “Pick it up.”

  “You'll shoot me if I try.”

  “I'm going to shoot you either way, your choice.”

  Foster bent over at the waist like he was going to be sick. He looked at the gun and then to his daughter. She came off the stair case steps and tried to grab Ray’s gun hand. Foster took the opportunity and dove for the gun on the floor. In the tussle Samantha stepped between her Pa and Ray as she fought to get the gun out of Ray’s hand. As Foster sat up he leveled his gun to fire. Ray ripped his gun hand free just as he heard Foster’s gun go off. The girl was flung to the left as if pulled by a rope. Foster fired again but the slug went straight into the floorboards in front of him. He sat with a curious look on his face, trying to raise his arm to fire again but couldn’t lift the gun. He dropped over onto his back and looked up at the smoking barrel in Ray's hand. Setting the gun down he lifted himself up onto his hands and knees and then fell over onto his side. He was dead before he hit the floor.

  John and Larry came busting in through th
e front door with their guns drawn. Looking around they saw Bradford Foster lying dead on the floor with his daughter cussing in pain as she rolled around on the front door carpet.

  “Let's get out of here!” yelled Larry.

  Ray holster his gun looking at John and Larry and then back to the girl and said, “We have to take her to Doc Myers. She could bleed to death!”

  “She deserves it; listen to the mouth on that girl, but… I guess you’re right. Grab her up and let’s get!” said Larry as he headed out the door.

  Ray leaned over the small figure wreathing on the floor and started to pick her up. That's when she began to attack Ray, going after him like a wild animal.

  “Keep your hands off me, you killed my Pa, you murdered him!” Samantha shrieked as she dug her nails into Ray’s face.

  Knowing she needed a doctor and they needed to get the hell out of there, Ray placed a solid blow to her jaw with his closed fist. In a small, primitive way it felt satisfying when she crumpled like a cloth doll. He lifted her up and carried her in his arms out to his horse.