by C. J. Petit
Gus walked into the coop and picked up one of the egg baskets near the door. He collected twenty-eight eggs. He’d run some over to the Slash M.
He left the chickens and returned to the house with his basket of eggs. He set them down on the table and went through the house. Luckily, or unluckily, depending on how he looked at it, there was nothing that belonged to Libby. He went to the main bedroom and went through the drawers and found what he needed. He took out an envelope and some paper. He walked into the kitchen and began writing.
“Dear Eli and Rachel,” he began. He wrote for forty minutes. He didn’t hold anything back. The sense of loss, the anger, the need for vengeance more than justice. His feeling of futility. He added how much he already missed them both. He vowed he’d visit Sara and let them know how she was after the funeral, trial, and hanging. It was four pages when he finished. He folded the sheets and put them in the envelope. He addressed it and left it on the kitchen table.
Gus felt drained. He knew what he needed to do. He took off his destroyed shirt and took out a clean one. He walked out the door and returned to the bunkhouse. He grabbed a bar of soap and trotted out to his pond. He remembered a suggestion he had made to Libby about joining him in the pond. She had laughed and said she’d consider it. He reached the pond and quickly stripped. He leaped into the cool water. It washed over him. He came to the surface and began so scrub. He was using pumice soap, so it made his skin feel alive. He washed his hair and dove under the water. He popped to the surface and recalled the Louis Feldman shooting and quickly scanned the empty horizon. He finally stepped out of his pond and dried off. He put on his pants and boots and walked back, holding his clean shirt in his hand. He reached the house before he realized he hadn’t put it on. No point now.
He decided on eggs for dinner for some reason. He just scrambled six eggs and had some coffee.
He turned in early. Tomorrow was going to be a bad day.
He woke early and had some more scrambled eggs and coffee. He dressed and went outside and saddled Belle. He took his letter. He put the thick envelope in the hidden saddle pouch. He smiled at the $140 still in the pouch. It had seemed like so much money just a week ago.
He mounted Belle and rode to Kinnick. He got there at a little past eight. He posted the letter and went down to Hanratty’s.
He walked inside, wondering whether the word had reached the town about what had happened. It had.
“Morning, Gus. How are you doing?”
“I’m all right.”
“We were all shocked and saddened to hear what happened. Libby was a wonderful woman.”
“She was. Thanks, John. I need to get some new clothes. I’ll be right back.”
Gus went to the clothing section and found a dark-gray jacket and matching pants that would fit. He found a medium-gray vest and a light-gray shirt. He picked up a tie and a hairbrush. He brought them up to John and paid for the items.
“Someplace I can get changed, John?”
“Sure, Gus. Right in back, there’s a storeroom.”
“Thanks.”
Gus walked back and into the storeroom. He stripped, put on his new clothes and brushed his hair before putting on his suddenly matching gray Stetson. He walked out and John gave him a bag for his old clothes.
“Thanks, John.”
“You need anything at all, Gus. You let me know.”
“I appreciate it.”
Gus walked outside and mounted Belle. It was nine fifteen. He walked Belle to the cemetery. Before he entered the gates, he pointed, and Belle stayed. He walked in toward the open grave. The gravediggers were still there. They nodded toward him. He nodded back. A few minutes later, Hank and the other boys all arrived. They shook Gus’s hand and stood aside. Gus tried not to dwell on Libby, but it was difficult. He tried to think of stupid things like chickens. But even that conjured up images of Ethyl Powers. It seemed like everything that he touched involved death or damage. He fought to regain control. He was doing better when he heard the rolling wheels if the hearse approach. He looked. It looked so . . . final.
The undertakers rolled the hearse forward and then stopped. The gravediggers walked forward, and they removed the casket. It seemed so small. One undertaker looked at Gus. He nodded his approval to begin lowering the casket into the earth. No ceremony. No preaching over the grave. Libby would have been appalled if there had been.
The four men easily lowered the box into the ground. Again, the undertaker sought Gus’s approval to start returning the earth to the hole. Gus nodded. The gravediggers began shoveling the dirt into the hole, covering the casket. It didn’t take long.
Gus looked at an undertaker and nodded. He nodded back, and the two undertakers mounted the hearse and rolled away and out of the cemetery. The two gravediggers smoothed out the dirt, and then they climbed on their horses.
Gus was standing alone by the grave when Hank approached.
“We’re going to head back, Gus.”
He shook each of their hands. “I appreciate your coming. I’m heading to Hendrick to talk to the prosecutor.”
“We’ll see you tomorrow, Gus.”
He nodded and walked out to Belle and stepped up. He wheeled her around and rode quickly out of Kinnick. He headed north. He reached Chadwick at eleven thirty and passed the OK Saloon. He may stop and talk to Sara on the way back after the hanging. Suddenly, he had a sinking feeling. What if Ernie escaped the hanging noose? What if he got off for some reason or another? He knew he’d have to shoot him.
He reached Hendrick at one o’clock and stopped at the sheriff’s office. He dismounted and walked inside. He had removed his tie but otherwise was still dressed the same.
Rich Gannon saw him come in and knew where he had been.
“Gus, you ready to go talk to the prosecutor, or do you want to get something to eat? I haven’t eaten lunch yet. Paperwork.”
“Sure. Let’s go eat something quick.”
They walked over to the café and ate a good lunch. Rich told him that the prosecutor saw no problems with the case. In addition to Gus’s testimony, there were four solid eyewitnesses. What made him more positive was the timing of the shooting. Gus nodded. They left and walked to the county courthouse.
It was kind of a waste of time to meet with the prosecutor. The evidence was overwhelming. The whole town was angry about what Ernie had done.
Gus left the interview with Rich. Rich waved as he went to his office. Gus walked to the hotel with Belle trailing, and left her at the livery with instructions for extra oats. He paid the fee and went back to the hotel where he took a room before he returned to the street and walked to the dry goods store. He went inside and looked up and down the aisles. He found what he wanted and went down to the book section. He wanted to find something to take his mind away from what he was going through. There wasn’t a vast selection. He picked out one volume and carried it to the front. He paid the seventy-five cents for the book and returned to his room. It was still early, so he started reading.
He hadn’t realized the significance of the title when he bought the book. It was just the largest book in the meager pickings. Now he appreciated it as he began reading Ben-Hur. He was captured by the third page. He read past dinner and didn’t mind a bit. He had to turn on the lamp as he read. He finally kicked off his boots and undressed. He crawled into bed and fell asleep.
He didn’t awaken until the sun was up. No roosters.
He walked down the hallway and took a bath and shaved. He returned to his room and put on his shirt and vest followed by his jacket and Stetson. Then he took Ben-Hur and walked downstairs to the hotel restaurant where he had breakfast, then walked outside. It was a nice day, with a chill in the morning air. He guessed it was eight thirty.
Gus walked over to the sheriff’s office. He entered and met a deputy.
“Sheriff says he’ll meet you at the courthouse at nine fifteen. Trial’s supposed to be at ten, but sometimes they can be early.”
“Okay. I’ll wait over there. Some of my ranch hands want to be here for the trial. They were all very fond of my Libby.”
He walked out of the office. He noted that he had referred to them as “my ranch hands.” It sounded so pretentious. Speaking of ranch hands, he spotted them trotting in. He waved at Hank, who recognized Gus and waved back. Gus stepped across to the courthouse.
“Need to be inside early. Sheriff says that sometimes the first serious case of the day is moved up.”
“Let’s go,” said Hank.
The men walked into the courthouse. Gus found the sheriff standing, talking to the prosecutor. He waved Gus over.
“The trial will start in fifteen minutes. Glad you made it on time. It’ll be in Judge Hamilton’s court. He’s the judge that married you the day before yesterday.”
Gus couldn’t respond to that.
The men walked into the courtroom. They took seats and waited. A few minutes later, Ernie Blanchard was led into the courtroom in shackles and a heavy splint over his broken arm. He glared at Gus and the hands. They glared back.
They all stood when Judge Hamilton entered. The proceedings went quickly. Gus was called, and even though he tried to maintain his composure, he failed on two occasions. The defense attorney tried to portray Gus as a money-grubbing, overstepping wrangler. It failed miserably. The case went to jury at 10:48. The jury was out less than two minutes. The judge had Ernie stand and face him. He ripped Ernie apart with his diatribe about taking Libby’s life after she had just been happily married. The judge sentenced him to hang in the morning and said he wished being drawn and quartered were still available for him to use as a sentence.
Ernie was glaring at no one as he was led from the courtroom.
Gus and the hands all left the courtroom less than two hours after entering.
“How about if I stand you boys for some lunch at the café?” Gus offered.
They all agreed and walked across the street and had lunch. They mainly talked about Libby. They all knew her better than Gus did. The hanging was set for eight o’clock, so they’d miss that. They had work to do.
Gus returned to his room after the boys left and began reading again. This time, he remembered dinner and took a break before resuming Ben-Hur. He reached the chariot race before he fell asleep.
The next morning, he had breakfast, handed in his key, and walked to the sheriff’s office. Rich saw him enter and waved him over.
“Two of my deputies will escort him to the gallows. It’s behind the courthouse. We’ll be leaving in five minutes.”
Gus nodded and left to go to the gallows. He arrived and waited. There was already a small crowd of spectators there just to watch the death of a fellow human being. None of them felt the hate that Gus held in his heart for Ernie. Just like Ben-Hur had held for Masala.
They brought Ernie out, and Gus watched as they led him up the gallows. He was turned around and asked if he wanted to see a minister. He refused, and they put a black bag over his head. The noose was placed around his neck. The hangman watched the sheriff who had his watch out. When the time came, Rich Gannon nodded, and the hangman pulled the lever. Ernie Blanchard fell four feet, and his neck snapped. He was as dead as Libby. Gus felt no remorse. But he felt no relief, either. Ernie’s dying didn’t bring Libby back. He turned and walked back to the livery.
He paid his bill at the livery and saddled Belle, his left arm reminding him of the sutures that needed to come out in a few days. He trotted Belle out of Hendrick and headed south. It was only ten twenty when he reached Chadwick. He was going to pass through town, but instead he directed Belle to some public benches in front of the mercantile. He pulled Ben-Hur from his saddlebag and sat. He had drifted off the night before at the start of the chariot race that he knew would seal the fate of the hated Masala. He felt more satisfaction over Masala’s demise than over Ernie Blanchard’s. But Ben-Hur didn’t feel satisfied. He wanted further revenge. Gus continued to read, oblivious to his surroundings and to the passage of time. He finally closed the book and sat back. He wondered if he would ever find the peace that Ben-Hur had finally attained.
He walked across the street to the café. He had lunch, paid his tab, and crossed the street to the OK Saloon. He ordered a beer and sat at the same table that he had used the first time. Again, he was the only customer. He didn’t have to order a second beer before Sara stepped down the stairs and walked straight to his table. No swaying of her hips this time.
She smiled broadly at him, sat down, and said cheerfully, “Gus, you really are a sight for sore eyes. I’ve been waiting for you to visit. I’m not even going to order that fake whiskey, I’m so glad to see you.”
Gus looked into her eyes to say something, but she saw the pain and asked, “Gus, what’s wrong? What’s happened? Is it my parents?”
Gus shook his head. “Sara, can we just talk today? I’ll pay for your time.”
“Come with me.”
Sara took him by the hand and led him to her room, shaking her head at the bartender as she passed. She opened the door to her room and closed the door behind them.
Gus sat down on a chair, and Sara sat on her bed. “What’s wrong, Gus?”
Gus blew out his breath. “First, your parents are fine. They left and returned to Kansas City five days ago.”
“Were they forced out?”
“No. Eli’s father died, so they had to go to Kansas City. He inherited a nice house and a good amount of money, so they’re fine. There were a couple of incidents, though. Joe Miles tried to burn them out, but I had sent them to town to the hotel while I waited for Miles and his men and sent them home. The next day, we were all on the train platform saying goodbye and Joe Miles and Reverend Quincy showed up and tried to shoot your parents.”
Sara’s eyes grew wide, “They weren’t hit, were they?”
“No, they’re okay. I shot Miles and the reverend both dead. Your parents got on the train safely.”
“Did you get hurt?”
“Just in the left arm. It’s okay. I had to protect Rachel, Sara. That bastard was aiming for your mother.”
“Is that why you’re so upset?”
“No. I was married three days ago.”
Sara knew, for some reason, not to launch into some congratulatory remarks.
“Who did you marry?”
“Libby Miles.”
“She was nice to me the few times we met. She’s very pretty, too.”
Gus nodded, then he lowered his head. “We were married for eight minutes, Sara. Eight goddamned minutes. I was kissing her on the county courthouse steps when the foreman of the Slash M came up behind us and pulled his pistol. I heard the click of the hammer and turned to see him aiming at us. I pushed her down to keep her safe and charged that son of a bitch. He fired before I crashed into him. The bullet went through my shirt and hit Libby in the chest. By the time I had broken that bastard’s arm and kicked his gun away, Libby was dead. She’s gone, Sara. Just like that. Eight godforsaken minutes. I buried her the next day in Kinnick. Yesterday I had to go to his trial, and this morning I was there for his hanging. Sara, it didn’t help at all. I thought it would put an end to something. But it didn’t. I feel so damned empty.”
It had been very hard for Gus to go through it again. It was almost as hard for Sara to hear.
Sara asked quietly, “What can I do to help, Gus?”
“Just talk to me sometimes. I don’t have anyone to talk to. I wish Rachel were here. I could always talk to Rachel. I don’t know why I was so close to your mother. I really liked and admired your father, but Rachel was special. She understood and listened. She always knew what to say. Now, I have no one, Sara. That’s why I came to see you. I hoped that there was some Rachel in you.”
“She was always like that. She’d talk to me and try to help with my loneliness, but I guess it wasn’t enough. I’m probably as far from my mother as anyone, Gus. Could you find a minister or something?”
Gus laughed. “A minis
ter? Like that warped, hypocritical charlatan in the dark suit that tried to kill your mother? No, Sara. If you’d rather not talk to me, I’ll understand.”
“What are you going to do, Gus? Are you leaving?”
“That’s the ironic part of all this. A month ago, I was just an old, broken-down cowboy with three hundred forty-one dollars to show for twenty years’ work. And now I have two ranches and over twenty thousand dollars in the bank. I have a lot to do to fix everything. No, I’m not leaving.”