“Need your word ‘fore I tell you.”
“What you get out of it? No reward for them, got a personal reason?”
“You’ll know when I tell you.”
“Okay, better be good then,” Preston said.
“I got your word?”
“You have. What is it?”
“Them three you’re after killed two boys that robbed a bank in Pinefield,” Billy said. “They got the money. They brought the dead boys in sayin’ they was the ones robbed the bank. Had over seven-thousand dollars of the bank’s money still in the sacks on the Bannister Boys’ horses. Said they was taking it back to the bank. I knew they wasn’t goin to do that so I tried to arrest them but they bushwhacked me and left me out on the trail. I barely did make it back alive. They still got the money.”
“Why didn’t they kill you?” Preston said. “I would have.”
“Don’t know. I came back here like nothing ever happened. I’m the only one knows ‘bout the money. Thought maybe we could partner up. Kill ‘em, split the money. No one would ever know the real story ‘cept us.”
“Now that I know about the money, why would I want to include you?” Preston said.
“You gave your word. I got a badge to make you my deputies. We’ll be the law, everything nice and legal. I’ll show you one of the Pinefield Bank bags in the morning to prove my story.”
“Pretty convincin,’” Preston said.
“We got a deal then?”
“We do.”
“Meet you in the morning,” Billy said. “Seven-thirty at the train station.”
Preston nodded and Billy stuck out his hand and Preston shook hands with him.
“Let’s get some sleep, Charlie,” Preston said and they headed up the stairs, Billy watching.
Preston and Charlie went to their room. Charlie struck a match to light the lamp and Preston blew it out and walked over to the window and looked out. Billy was crossing the street to his horse tied to a hitching post in front of the sheriff’s office.
“Stay here, Charlie.” Preston took his hat off and handed it to Charlie, opened the window and climbed out, laid down on the roof, slid down to the edge and dropped down to the ground. Two riders riding away from him were the only ones on the street. He crossed the street and walked up behind Billy, drew his Arkansas toothpick and held it beside his leg.
“Billy,” he said and Billy turned around.
Billy looked at Preston and saw the knife, but wasn’t quick enough to draw his Colt before Preston plunged the knife into his throat and ripped his jugular out. Billy staggered against his horse. The horse pulled on the reins tied to the hitching post and Billy fell face down on the ground without so much as a grunt, his ivory-handled Colt halfway out of his holster, his blood spilling out on the ground.
Preston looked down at Billy’s crumpled body. “You’re kind of stupid, Billy boy.” He put the knife back in his boot, dropped Billy’s Colt back in the holster and lifted him on his horse and tied him across the saddle with Billy’s lariat, slapped the horse on the butt hard and it took off for parts unknown.
Preston scattered dirt over the blood with his boots in the moonlight and hurried back across the street without seeing anyone. He swung up on the roof and crawled back in the room, Charlie watching it all from the window.
“Takes care of that,” Preston said. “Now we’re the only ones that knows besides those three we’re after. Got seven-thousand more reasons to find them now.”
“Didn’t figure you was goin’ to let him come with us,” Charlie said. “Hope you’re not goin to do that to me.”
“Nope, I need you,” Preston said.
“How was you sure he was tellin’ the truth?”
“He wouldn’t have offered to show us the bank bag if he wasn’t.”
Preston pulled off his boots and wiped the blood off the knife and his boots with a towel and stuck the towel in his bag, the knife back in his boot, and laid down on the bed, waiting for the next day to catch another train.
21
When Rance, B.W. and Tommy rode into Texarkana, they started looking for a livery stable to feed the horses. Tommy saw the mercantile store and kept riding to get some peppermint sticks. Rance and B.W. rode into the livery and dismounted. Rance noticed Tommy wasn’t there.
“Where’d that boy go?” Rance asked.
“Was behind us coming in,” B.W. said.
They remounted and turned their horses around and rode back out in the street. No sign of Tommy.
They rode all over town but didn’t find Tommy and so they headed back to the livery stable. When they stopped at the door, Tommy came riding in behind them.
“Where you been?” B.W. said. “Scared the hell out of us.”
“I can take care of myself.,” he said. “Got me some peppermints, heard the train whistle blow and went to the train station.”
“Why’d you do that,” B.W. said. “Don’t wander off like that again. Don’t you know who’s following us?”
“Well, what did you find out?” Rance said.
“The next train outta here leaves at four this afternoon, pullin’ passenger and cattle cars. We can put our horses in a cattle car, ride in a passenger car all the way to Traversville. I told the ticket agent you was my uncles and sent me to buy the tickets.”
“Where’d you get the money,” Rance said.
“Took three ten-dollar gold pieces out of the bag the other day in case I needed money.”
“Well, it’s alright,” B.W. said, “but that’s stealing.”
“What you think you’re doing,” Tommy said, looking at B.W.
“That’s different,” B.W. said.
“Not really,” Rance said, “just more money.”
“Are you going to preach to me again?” B.W. said.
“It’s his money too,” Rance said.
“It is,” B.W. said. “Just don’t think he should take it without telling us.”
“You two hush. We got a train to catch.” Tommy said.
“He’s right, kinda silly us arguing over nothin.’ Lead the way, Mr. Travers,” Rance said.
“I want to stop at the store and get me some more peppermint sticks,” Tommy said. “Long ride ahead.”
“Whatever you say,” B.W. said.
Tommy got his peppermint sticks and they rode on to the train station. Several men were coming and going on and off the train.
“That the guy you talked to?” Rance said, looking at a big-headed man with a railroad cap on that looked like it was having trouble staying on his fat head. He was wearing the Travers overalls but had the side buttons lose to accommodate a bulging belly.
“Yeah that’s him,” Tommy said.
“Since you’re the one that was talking to him,” Rance said, “ask him where he wants the horses.”
Tommy handed Rance the reins to his horse. The agent saw Tommy walking toward him.
“Hello young man. Those your uncles?” he said, looking at Rance and B.W.
“Yes sir,” he said. “They want to know where to put the horses.”
“Uncles,” B.W. said, looking at Rance, both smiling.
“Didn’t know one of them was an Indian,” he said, eyeing B.W. “Might not should let him on board. You got Indian blood? Might not let you either.”
“Not really my uncle, I just call him that. He pretty well stays to himself, won’t bother nobody,” Tommy said.
“Make sure he stays away from the other passengers,” the man said.
“Yes sir, I will.”
“Tell them to put the horses in the first cattle car. After that, get your tickets and get aboard, only bout an hour before we leave. Don’t know if they will feed the Indian when we stop in Winfield.”
Tommy nodded and walked back to Rance and B.W.
“We heard,” B.W. said. “You sure I’m good enough to ride with the white folks?”
“Had to keep him from takin’ our tickets away,” Tommy said. “Might have to ride them
horses the rest of the way on my sore butt.”
“We don’t have to get on the train if you don’t want to, B.W.,” Rance said.
“I’ll manage,” B.W. said. “Let’s get the horses loaded.” B.W. took the money bags off his horse.
They led the horses on the car, grabbed the Henrys and the shotgun and unsaddled the horses, closed the gate and walked up to the passenger car.
The ticket agent came running up to them. “That Indian can’t get on board with them guns and that tomahawk,” he said. “He got a gun in them saddle bags?”
“No, personal things,” Rance said.
B.W. handed his guns to Rance. Rance handed them to the train man.
“What about the tomahawk,” the agent said.
B.W. pulled the tomahawk out of his belt and handed it to the railroad man and glance down at his boot with the knife in it, picked up the money bags and started walking down the aisle of the car.
People placed bags in their seats and sat kids in them to keep him from sitting down. He walked all the way to the back of the car and sat down by himself and placed the suitcase beside him.
“What’s he doin’ that for?” Tommy asked.
“Let him be. He’s doin’ it for you,” Rance said.
“For me?” Tommy said.
“You’ll know soon enough, go on back,” Rance said, pointing at the back of the car. They sat down next to B.W. The nearest passenger was four rows in front of them.
“May need another war,” B.W. said.
“Might have to be on your side next time,” Rance said.
“How much one of them Gatling’s cost?” B.W. said, placed his hand on the suitcase and tapped it with his fingers.
“Know what you’re thinking,” Rance said, “but this train may belong to Tommy.”
“Ya’ll talkin’ in riddles,” Tommy said.
“That we are,” B.W. said. “No need for you to know.”
A short, dumpy little man with a gray beard and a big gut stood up and looked at B.W. “Aint ridin’ no train with a stinkin’ Injun. Might as well be a nigger.” He grabbed his suitcase and headed for the door.
B.W. rose up in his seat and Rance put a hand on his shoulder. “We’re gettin’ off,” Rance said.
B.W. eased back down in his seat. “No, we need to get to Traversville. I’ll stay here and try not to kill anyone for now.”
They heard a whistle and the train began to roll away from the depot, smoke running past the windows as the train picked up speed. Seconds later, the train was at full speed headed for Traversville.
Four hours later, when the train pulled into the Traversville depot, they followed the other passengers off the train. The conductor gave them their weapons and they headed for the cattle car to get their horses when they heard a woman’s voice behind them.
“Mister Indian,” the voice said and they turned around. There stood a little old white lady wearing a flowered cotton dress and a bonnet, holding her parasol over her head in the Texas heat. She took a step closer to B.W. “Mister Indian,” she said, “wanted you to know I didn’t mind riding with you, even if you are an Indian.”
B.W. took off his hat. “Thank you, ma’am,” he said. She nodded, turned and toddled off.
Rance grinned at B.W. “You know,” Rance said. “I don’t mind ridin’ with you either, even though you’re not a complete Indian.”
“She meant well. Nobody knows but you.” B.W. said. “Let’s get the horses.”
They got their horses and saddled them, B.W. holding on to the money bags as they rode down the street looking at the town. Pretty much like all the rest they passed through along the way, he thought. They rode by a bank and B.W. took a long look at it.
“Why you lookin’ at that bank?” Rance said. “You’re makin’ me nervous.”
“Was thinkin’ ‘bout our money. A safe place to put it,” B.W. said. “Need to buy that ranch ‘fore something happens to it.”
“Still havin’ some problems with that. Should do somethin’ useful with it,” Rance said.
“I am,” B.W. said, “goin’ to buy us a ranch.”
“Don’t know if I want a ranch, need two good hands for that,” Rance said.
“I’ll be your other hand,” B.W. said.
“Can’t turn something like that down,” Rance said.
“I want to find my mama‘s killer,” Tommy said.
“Kind of think that would be my priority too,” B.W. said.
“Your what?” Tommy said.
“The thing I would want to do first.”
Tommy nodded.
“Let’s find us a place to bed down and get a bath and some clean clothes,” Rance said. “Then think on the rest.”
“There he goes with that bath thing again, B.W.,” Tommy said.
“Maybe we do need a bath,” B.W. said.
“I don’t believe my ears,” Rance said. “You mean you don’t think you smell like tree bark anymore?”
“Don’t get too carried away. It’ll be a quick one.”
“Cleanliness is next to godliness,” Rance said and grinned.
“Man, are you full of shit,” B.W. said.
Rance smiled.
They crossed over to the next street and saw Ferguson Bed and Bath Boarding House on a sign out front.
“That looks good,” Rance said. “Want to try it?”
“Might as well,” B.W. said.
“Guess I’ll go too,” Tommy said.
They tied their horses to the hitching post and dismounted, B.W. holding on to the money bags. They walked up to the door and rang the bell.
A young woman appeared and opened the door. She had long blonde hair with a pink ribbon in it, big blue eyes, wearing a long blue dress holding a white cat. “He’ll run out the door if I put him down,” she said. “Come on in.” They walked in and closed the door. She shifted the cat to hold him with both hands and sat him down and he ran off.
“I’m the owner, Rhonda Jennings,” she said. “You need a bed?”
“Yes ma’am,” Rance said.
“Can give you and the boy a room, the Indian will have to sleep on the back porch, bathe in the creek.”
“No ma’am, I won’t do that,” B.W. said.
“Then go somewhere else. This is my place and I make the rules. You’re no different than a nigger around here. The other guests would leave.”
“I am what I am, ma’am, don’t have no apologies to make,” B.W. said.
“Neither do I,” she said.
“Good day ma’am.” Rance opened the door and they walked back outside and she closed the door.
“Even the cat’s white,” B.W. said as they walked away.
“Well look at it this way,” Rance said. “You won’t have to sleep in a bed after all and a creek is warm this time of year.”
“Why don’t you and Tommy stay there and I’ll find a place, would feel better ‘bout it that way.”
“No way, partner, it’s all or none.”
“Goes for me too,” Tommy said.
“Let’s find the livery stable,” Rance said. “Bet they got a hay loft. Beginnin’ to feel at home in one.”
They turned their horses around and rode past the sheriff’s office.
“Wonder if they got a wanted poster on us here?” Rance said.
“We’ll find out soon enough,” B.W. said. “Think that marshal is still comin?’”
“Been over a month since we high-tailed it out of Milberg, but could be,” Rance said as they rode up to the livery stable.
Two boys younger than Tommy were playing in front of the livery and a man inside the open doors with no shirt on was filing a horse’s hoof. He was tall and muscled with a head full of blonde hair and had an eye patch over his right eye. Rance’s horse snorted and the man looked up, dropped the horse’s leg and walked up to the door. “Need to bed those horses down?” he asked.
“Us too,” Rance said. “The boardin’ house don’t think too highly of Indians.�
�
“Not many people round here do,” he said. “Name’s Riley Jones. Don’t have a problem myself, spent some time with the Cherokees ‘fore the war.”
B.W. smiled. “That’s me,” he said.
“Looks like you was in the war too,” Rance said.
“Was in the last battle of the war two weeks after Lee surrendered to Grant. Neither side knew the war was over, Battle of Palmetto Ranch. We won the battle but lost the war. Had two good eyes till a cannon ball busted too close to me ‘fore it was over. Anyways…fifty cents a day for each of the horses. You can unsaddle and put ‘em in a stall, I’ll give ‘em grain, hay and water after I finish shoein’ this horse. No charge to sleep in the hay loft, just don’t leave here with anythin’ you didn’t come in with.”
“Fair enough,” B.W. said.
“Where can we all get a bath?” Rance asked.
“Big Sally’s Saloon just down the street, long as you got the money.”
“That include Indians?” B.W. said.
“Don’t matter what you are, Big Sally’s only got one rule. You better pay what you owe or one of the girls will cut your balls off. Oh, sorry bout that, son,” he said, looking at Tommy.
“Could we get you to hang on to our personals while we take care of ourselves?” Rance said.
“You can,” Riley said.
They unsaddled their horses and handed Riley the rifles, shotgun and saddle bags. Rance kept his Colt and B.W. his and the tomahawk. B.W. picked up the money bags.
“I can watch that too, if you like,” Riley said.
“Think I’ll hold on to it,” B.W. said.
Riley nodded and they walked out into the street.
The Big Sally Saloon had large painted pictures of skimpily-dressed women on the windows on both sides of the swinging doors. A cowpoke came flying out the swinging doors and rolled into the street. A man big as a Texas mountain with a thick black mustache, garters on his arms and an apron tied around his huge waist came through the swinging doors. He had curly black hair and dark brown eyes. He was a head taller than B.W. and a hundred pounds heavier. He tossed a hat and a gun into the street and pointed a big long finger at the cowboy. “You ever come back in here I’ll cut you up for dog meat. Nobody makes fun of me,” he said and walked back into the saloon.
The Last Good Day Page 13