Revenge Requires Two Graves

by George Emery Townsend

  Chapter 38

  Phillip

  “Señor Phillip, I have some food for you. You eat and then you need to leave town as fast as you can. There are bad men looking for you,” cried the small Mexican girl who had been watching out for the gringo. After trying to escape on the stage after leaving Mrs. Cooper’s house, Phillip had seen two lynch men just outside the Overland office and didn’t dare take a chance that they weren’t there for him. He decided his best chance was to hide for a few days until Miss. Foster believed he had gotten away. Unfortunately, Samantha did not give up easily and a few days turned into a couple of weeks. Phillip had been hiding inside Rose’s house for over two weeks now. Fortunately he had stumbled into Rose in a small cantina on the south end of town. They sat talking over a meal of tortillas and beans and soon became fast friends. After telling Rose all about his dilemma, she promised to hide him at her small adobe home on the outskirts of town near the open fields.

  “Rose, I cannot thank you enough for all you have done for me. If you had not taken me in I fear by now I would surely be dead.”

  “Do not fear, Señor Phillip, I will not let harm come to you,” promised Rose.

  “Rose, I will miss you very much when I have to leave. I will never forget you and what you have done for me. I hate to ask for anything more but I don’t have any choice; I need you to do something for me. It could be dangerous, so you must be careful.”

  “Anything, Señor, you have but to ask,” smiled Rose.

  “I would do it myself if I could but if they see me; I’d be as good as dead.”

  “What is it Señor Phillip?”

  “I’m going to give you some money and I need you to go to the Overland Office and buy me a ticket to San Francisco.”

  “But Señor, they watch the stage office?” questioned Rose with her big brown eyes.

  “I know. My plan is to meet the stage out on the road heading north. With my ticket they’ll let me on board,” explained Phillip as he took a large bite of a flour tortilla filled with goat meat.

  “I will try, my friend.”

  “Good, now here is what should be enough for the ticket. Do not tell them it is for me. Say... you’re buying it for a woman who gave you money, say nothing more. Do you understand?”

  “Si' Señor. I understand. I will go now and come right back with your ticket,” said Rose as she poured more tequila into the small glass in front of Phillip.

  “Thank you, Rose. If I stayed any longer, I could get used to eating your tortillas and drinking tequila,” smiled Phillip.

  Rose placed the bills into the single pocket sewn into the front of her apron. She’d learned to fend for herself, due to a hard life and the loss of her parents. She had done quite well. She was a survivor with great plans for her life that extended far from the small adobe home she lived in now. Rose did not expect Phillip or anyone else to just give her anything. She knew she would only succeed through hard work and blessing others with her kindness. Straightening her apron around her small dress, she ran a brush quickly through her long black hair and then cleaned her face in the basin of water just outside her front door. Looking a little more presentable, she sang a song she remembered from church last Sunday. Upon entering the Plaza Rose turned right towards the Bella Union where the Overland Office was housed. It was a warm day but she liked it hot. The sun felt good on her face as she stepped from the street onto the boardwalk. Rose walked into the Overland Stage Company and had to wait a moment for her eyes to adjust from the bright sun light. She recognized a man that she had seen glaring at her many times as she walked down the street. She did not like this man and felt that he was very dangerous. As she tried to ignore him, she walked up to the counter and faced the older clerk standing behind the counter.

  “Okay, Mex, I ain’t got all day, what do you want in here?” said the clerk in an annoyed voice.

  “I need to purchase a ticket to San Francisco, please,” asked Rose in her sweet soft voice.

  “Well that’s different,” said the clerk. “Is it for you?”

  “No sir, I’m buying it for someone else,” answered Rose.

  The man standing near the counter perked up, paying more attention to what the girl was saying rather than just the shape of her shirt.

  “Okay, do you have the money?” asked the clerk.

  “Oh si' Señor, here is the money,” said Rose as she placed the roll of bills onto the counter.

  The clerk went through the roll and took what he needed, returning the rest to Rose along with a ticket.

  “Now tell your friend that the stage leaves right out front here at 2:00, understand?” directed the clerk.

  “Oh, si Señor, but my friend told me that he, I mean she, was going to be catching the stage out on the road to the north. Is that okay?” asked Rose, innocently.

  “Well, I’m sure the coach will stop for a lady out there; but there really ain’t nothin’ out there. Why would your friend be out there? Why not catch the coach right here?” asked the clerk.

  “I have to go now. Thank you Señor,” said Rose panicking a little at the questions. She picked up the money along with the ticket and stuffed them into the same front pocket as before. She ran out of the office and straight across the plaza heading south. Behind her followed the man who had been loitering in the coach office. Rose ran with glee at the feel of the ticket in her pocket, thinking how pleased Phillip would be at how well she had done. Reaching home, she darted into the house and straight up to Phillip.

  “See Señor Phillip, I told you I could do this thing for you. Here is your ticket to San Francisco,” smiled Rose.

  “Thank you Rose. I never doubted you. Did you have any trouble?” asked Phillip.

  “None Señor, the stage man told me that the stage left from out front of the office at 2:00, but that it would be okay for you to meet it on the north road. He said they stop for you,” smiled Rose, thinking that she was helping solve Phillips problems.

  “What? You asked him if it was okay to catch the stage north of town?” asked Phillip in a panicked voice.

  “Well yes. But I told him what you told me to say, that you were a woman, he will never think you’re a man, Señor Phillip. Did I do okay, Señor?”

  Thinking hard about what her words might mean to his escape plans he answered, “Of course, Rose, you did very well. Thank you,” lied Phillip.

  “Yes, Rose, you did very well, thank you,” laughed the man filling the doorway with a gun in his hand. “What do you say we all get a little more acquainted?”

  “No, you must not be here, do not hurt my friend!” screamed Rose has she ran at the man to push him out of the small adobe.

  The man swung the back of his hand across her face, knocking her to the ground. Phillip jumped to his feet in her defense, only to stop when he heard the hammer of the .44 click back.

  “Now sit down on that chair over there against the wall, mister. Señorita, take that rope over there by the firewood, tie his hands to the chair. Tie them tight. I’ll be checkin’ them and if they’re not tight I’ll cut ya,” threatened the man.

  Carrying the rope over to where Phillip sat Rose began to cry. "I am so sorry, Señor Phillip, I have brought this upon you.”

  “No Rose, it is I that am sorry. You have been very good to me and now you are in danger, I am so sorry,” said Phillip as he shook his head in despair.

  “Okay, Señorita, that looks good, he’s good an tight. Now put that rag around his mouth, I don’t want to hear a word come out of him.”

  “Rose, if you get a chance, run and don’t look back, do you understand,” whispered Phillip.

  “Shut up over there and get that gag on him!” order the man.

  Satisfied that Phillip was bound and gagged securely, the man holstered his gun. Turning to face Rose he smiled. “Now, what do ya say to a little fun before I take care of this fella?” The man laughed as he unbuckled his gun belt and let it drop to the floor.

  Rose tried to d
art for the door but was cut off by the man; he smelled of month old sweat.

  “No, no, take your hands off me, Señor Phillip, help me!” cried Rose, as the man picked her up, carried her across the room and threw her down onto the bed. She was helpless against the strength of the attacker. As he looked away Phillip’s eyes filled with tears, knowing he could do nothing to help his friend.

  Raising from the bed the man re-buckled his pants and wrapped his gun back around his waist. “That was right fine, little girl. Too bad I won’t be able to spend more time with ya, but this little get together has got to come to a close,” laughed the attacker.

  Taking the large knife from the side of his belt he swiped once across Rose’s exposed throat, leaving her to choke in her own blood. Phillip cursed through his gag to no avail. The man calmly replaced his knife in its sheath, turned in Phillip’s direction and pulled the .44 from its holster placing a slug directly into Phillip's chest. Phillip’s broken heart stopped pumping and he went limp against his bonds.

  The man walked back to where Rose lay and placed his gun in her hand. Returning to Phillip he cut the bond holding him in the chair and removed the gag. Phillip rolled out of the chair onto the floor. The man then placed the bloody knife into Phillip’s hand. Standing back for a moment and surveying his gruesome work, he smiled and walked out into the sunlight.

  -CKS-

  “Marshal!” called Jake from outside the office. “Come quick, we got some trouble down in Mexico town.”

  “Damn it, I was just getting’ ready to go for dinner,” sighed the marshal as he rose, placing his hat on his head and walking out to join Jake.

  “What’s all the damn excitement deputy?” asked the marshal as they walked.

  “Not sure, Marshal. One of those crazy Mexicans came runnin’ up to me blabbin’ some of those Mexican words I don’t know a lick of and grabbed my arm. So I figured I’d better follow him.”

  “Yeah, well what did you find?” asked the marshal, getting a little impatient.

  “Well the Mex took me to a small adobe down near the fields and you won’t believe what I saw inside Marshal,” spoke Jake in a flurry of excitement.

  “Well I ain’t going to be able to tell if I believe ya or not until ya finally tell me what the hell happened, damn it!”

  “Okay, okay, Marshal. Well there they were, you know that little Mexican girl, and I think her name was Rose. Well it looks like an old white fella’ dun raped her, and then cut her throat either before or after she shot him in the chest. There’s a lot a blood Marshal and it stinks in there.”

  “Okay, Jake, okay, let’s get over there and see what we can see,” said the marshal.

  “Marshal, if you don’t mind can I watch the door from outside so no one can get in there while you’re checking it out, okay Marshal?”

  Noticing for the first time that Jake looked a little pale, “okay deputy, you watch the door, and I’ll check it out,” said the marshal.

  He walked up to the small adobe finding a little boy sitting on the stoop. “Oh Marshal, I told Pedro you’d give him a nickel if he’d keep people out of there,” said Jake.

  “Okay, Pedro, here’s your nickel, now go on home. Jake, did you touch anything in there?” asked the marshal.

  “Are you loco, Marshal? I walked in and turned right around and walked out,” said Jake as he held back from throwing up.

  “Okay, well let’s get this over with,” said the marshal as he stepped into the room.

  The scene remained the same as when the attacker had left. Phillip lay on the floor with a bullet hole in his chest and Rose lay with her dress pulled up to her waist with her throat cut. The marshal walked over to where Rose lay, and pulled her dress down to cover her legs.

  Poor girl, he thought as he noticed the slight bulge in the front pocket of her apron. “What do we have here?” he muttered.

  He reached into the pocket and pulled out the rolled up bills. Freeing them from the pocket, a ticket fell from the wad. The marshal picked up the piece of paper and recognized it as an Overland ticket to San Francisco. Then it all began to hit him; he knew when he walked in the scene didn’t look right. The man on the floor didn’t look like a rapist and by the way he was dressed he appeared to belong on the other side of town. He had some sauce stain on the front of his shirt. Looking around the room the marshal found the finished plate of tortillas.

  “Jake!” called the marshal.

  Sticking his face into the room with his eyes closed Jake answered. “Yes Marshal, what is it?”

  “Go get Mrs. Cooper and bring her down here right now!” ordered the marshal.

  “Yes sir,” called Jake, never more relieved to get away from some place as he was now.

  After a couple hours, Jake came walking back to the adobe to find the marshal standing out front.

  “Well, where is she deputy?” called the marshal.

  “I don’t know Marshal. I’ve looked all over town, even talked to a couple of the ladies. They say she was at the preacher’s house. But when I went over there, it looked like no one had been there for a couple days,” answered Jake.

  “Damn it, if you want a job done right, you have to do it yourself,” cussed the marshal, walking towards town. “Jake, get the undertaker and tell him to keep these two above ground ‘til I tell him different, got it?”

  “Yes Marshal, I’ll tell him.”

  The marshal started his search at Mildred’s house, where he found his dinner burning on the stove. That wasn’t like Mildred at all. His concern began to grow. Next stop was at Mildred’s best friend’s home.

  “Marshal, all I can tell you is the same thing I told Jake. The women’s club escorted Mildred over to talk to the Preacher. Miss Foster took her inside alone while the rest of us went home. That’s the last time I saw her. She has to be at the Preacher’s house!” said her friend.

  The marshal walked up to the front of the preacher’s house and knocked at the front door. There was no answer.

  “Preacher! Are you home Preacher?” Waiting for a response that didn’t come, he forced the front door open a small crack, “Preacher! Are you here? It’s the Marshal.”

  Now frustrated, the marshal pushed the door open wide and stepped in. Calling out several more times with no response, he walked from room to room. Figuring no one was home he walked back to the front room. He had no idea where to look next for Mildred. Perhaps Miss Foster might be able to shed some light on where Mildred was. Then it hit him...the smell of tobacco smoke. It was too strong to have come from a passerby. Someone had smoked in the house. As long as he had known the preacher, he knew that he would never allow that. The marshal searched the floor. It didn’t take long before he found the smudged out tobacco near the front door.

  Hearing the sound of a carriage pulling alongside the house, he looked out the side window and saw the preacher. The marshal headed outside to get to the bottom of where Mildred could be.

  “Preacher, can I have a word with you?” asked the marshal as he walked around the corner of the house.

  “Why, hello, William, how are you my boy?” asked the preacher.

  “I’m just fine,” answered the marshal hating the way the preacher drew out his name William and always calling him, “my boy.” “I was wondering where Mildred was?”

  “Well I assure you I do not know. I would assume right about now she would be at dinner,” answered the preacher as he began to un-harness his team.

  “Well I was told that the women’s group brought her over to see you earlier today. Are you saying you haven’t seen her?” questioned the marshal.

  “Why, yes William, I have not seen her but if the women’s group brought her over then perhaps she is inside waiting for me?” figured the preacher.

  “No, I’ve already checked. She’s not in there, and I also found a burned smoke crushed out on your floor.”

  “What? Why I do not allow smoking in my home. Whose tobacco is it?” demanded the preacher.<
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  “Take it easy. I’m more concerned about Mildred than smoke being in your house. So you haven’t seen her today?”

  “No Marshal, I have been gone since yesterday. That poor Mr. Daniels was shot and killed yesterday so I have been out there at their place comforting the widow.”

  “Is Sheriff Moore out there?” questioned the marshal.

  “Yes. He was out there when I was. He says it sure looked like murder to him. Mr. Daniels was shot in the back.”

  “All right, I’ll talk to him when he comes back into town,” said the marshal as he pushed his hat back off his forehead, “Now I wonder why someone would murder Daniels. Was anything taken?”

  “Not that they could tell. Mrs. Daniels says her husband was in the barn when she heard a shot. She found him laying face down in one of the stables.”

  “I wonder if what happened out there has anything to do with all that’s going on here in town?”

  ”What do you mean Marshal?” asked the Preacher.

  “That little Mexican girl named Rose was murdered,” said the marshal, intentionally leaving out the part about the older white man.

  “That’s terrible. Rose was such a sweetheart. Where is she? I must go pray over her,” said the Preacher as he grabbed his bible from inside the carriage.

  “Well I guess it can’t hurt. But remember this is a murder I’m studying, and I don’t want you talkin’ to anyone about what you see in there,” pointed the marshal.

  “Oh, William, my boy, you are being so dramatic,” said the preacher as he started past the marshal.

  Riled by being called “William” and “my boy” again along with having his demands ignored caused him to grab the preacher’s arm tightly and turn him around quickly, “Look, you don’t get in there unless you agree to my rules, got it?”

  “Mercy sakes, of course Marshal, whatever you say,” spoke the preacher in shock.

  “Good. Go find my deputy and he can take you to the body.”

  “Thank you, William my boy. I do apologize if I seemed to dismiss you. I assure you I have nothing but the highest respect for you,” said the preacher as he turned and headed down the street.