by Lee Lejeune
Jacob pressed another coin into the boy’s hand and the boy bowed low. ‘Why, thank you, sir. That is most generous of you.’
Jacob patted him on the shoulder. ‘You been to school?’ he asked.
A melancholy look clouded the boy’s face. ‘Oh, no sir, nothing like that. I wanted to, but my folks couldn’t raise the fees.’
Jacob mounted his horse and rode towards the river where he found old Sam Critchley beside a fire cooking up something in his black pot. His two burros were grazing contentedly close by. He looked up and gave Jacob a welcoming smile. ‘I knew you’d come,’ he said.
Jacob grinned. ‘Couldn’t stand that hogwash they call whiskey. If I ever get rich enough I’ll open my own saloon and sell good honest whiskey.’
He dismounted and let his horse join Sam’s two burros. Then he squatted by the fire and told Sam he had met a certain young lady named Marie Silversmith.
Sam nodded. ‘I know the lady in question. Been to one or two of my meetings. Seems to enjoy talking about important matters such as who we are, where do we come from, and where are we going.’
Jacob told the old man how she had asked him to escort her to the murdered couple’s graves and that he’d agreed.
Sam held his head on one side and chuckled. ‘Well, take care, young man. The one thing they know in this town is how to talk, and ignorant folk are quick to draw conclusions. Though I guess they also know Miss Silversmith is an independent spirit. Some even say she has special powers like a witch.’
‘What do you think about that?’ Jacob asked him.
Sam smiled. ‘I haven’t seen any sign of witchcraft myself – but then again, maybe I’m too old to notice.’
Next morning early, Sam cooked up a real fine breakfast and he and Jacob sat by the fire and enjoyed it.
‘Well, my friend,’ Sam said, ‘don’t ask for my advice because I won’t give it. Just take care of yourself and that strong-headed young woman, and see you get back safely.’ He looked up at the sky. ‘And take account of what the Good Book says: “Red sky in the morning, shepherd’s warning” – that sky over there to the east looks a little red to me. So take care, my friend.’
They shook hands and Jacob mounted up and rode towards town.
When he hit town it was bang on eight o’clock in the morning and the first thing he saw was a figure riding towards him, and it was Marie Silversmith – but what a different Marie Silversmith she was! She was dressed in range clothes just like a man, and she was wearing a wide Stetson hat.
As she approached she raised her hand and said, ‘Good day, Mr Merriweather, you’re right on time.’
He drew in beside her and they rode together.
‘I’ve brought food,’ she said, ‘in case we get hungry.’
‘That’s mighty kind of you, Miss Silversmith,’ he said. He noticed she sat well in the saddle, as though she was used to riding. No side-saddle stuff. Just a young woman riding like a man. From a distance she might have been mistaken for a slim, good-looking young hombre.
‘I’ve been meaning to ask you something,’ he said. ‘What about your folks? Do they know what you’re doing, riding out of town with a notorious gunman?’
She smiled under her Stetson. ‘No, they don’t, Mr Merriweather.’ She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. ‘They don’t know because they’ve passed on.’
‘Passed on,’ he repeated.
She nodded. ‘They passed on some years back.’
‘Really! So you’re alone in the world.’
She didn’t volunteer any further information. So he rode on without speaking for a while.
‘How is it for you in town ?’ he asked after a while.
She nodded and smiled. ‘I’m thinking of leaving, Mr Merriweather, and that’s the truth. A woman in this town is either married or a whore. And I’m neither, so they treat me with suspicion and think I’m a witch, and that protects me . . . at least for the moment.’ She turned to him again. ‘They probably think I’ve cast a spell on you, Mr Merriweather.’
Jacob grinned. ‘Well, maybe they’re wiser than you think, Miss Silversmith.’
It was a short ride to the spread, and as soon as they got there, she stopped and looked at the place. ‘Looks strange, Mr Merriweather, doesn’t it? You can always tell when there’s nobody at home, can’t you?’
She dismounted and led her horse over to the grave and looked down. Jacob remained mounted, though he removed his Stetson in respect.
Marie stood at the graveside and bared her head and looked down. Then she knelt and began to recite ‘The Lord is my Shepherd. . . .’ in a clear but sad tone. Her horse whinnied, and then stood in silence as if it understood. Jacob found the scene strangely moving.
Marie stood for a long time looking down at the mound where the two were buried. Then she rose and drew back. ‘This should never have happened,’ she said quietly.
Jacob dismounted and moved forward and stood slightly behind her, and waited for what seemed a very long time. Then she turned and he saw tears in her eyes. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘That was a kind thing to do.’
Jacob felt impelled towards her but he stood still and said nothing.
‘I have to tell you something, Mr Merriweather,’ she said.
Jacob nodded.
‘I knew as soon as I knelt down by the grave.’
‘What did you know?’ he asked quietly.
She breathed in slowly. ‘I know who committed this heinous crime. You might think like the others that I’m a witch, but as I knelt there came a voice loud and clear, and it spoke the name of the killer.’
Jacob kept silent or a moment. ‘You want to tell me the name, Miss Silversmith?’ he murmured.
‘I think we should eat,’ she said after a pause. ‘I think we should go up to the cabin.’
‘Are you happy with that?’ he asked.
‘If you mean do I believe in ghosts?’ she said, ‘I keep an open mind on that subject. But I know one thing: my friends Beth and Stan wouldn’t haunt anyone. But Beth did speak to me just now by the grave. Do you believe that?’
Jacob wasn’t sure what he believed. Maybe he never had. But he said, ‘I believe anything you say, Miss Silversmith.’
They led their horses to the barn, which had a good supply of hay. Then they went to the door of the cabin. Jacob pushed it open and went inside. All was deathly quiet, except for a slight rustling, which might have been a rat. ‘Come right in, Miss Silversmith,’ he said.
Marie walked in and sniffed the air. ‘Someone’s been here,’ she said.
Jacob was surprised, not by what she said, but by the keenness of her senses. No wonder some folks thought she was a witch!
‘You’re probably right,’ he said, ‘but whoever they were, they’re not here now.’
‘Sit down, Mr Merriweather. It’s time to eat.’
They sat down at the pine table and Marie produced a pack of food.
‘Pardon me, Miss Silversmith. Before we go any further, since you asked me to escort you, would you mind calling me Jacob or Jake? Mr Merriweather sounds a little stiff and formal, don’t you think?’ He looked at her across the table and saw her face turn a deeper shade of pink.
‘I quite like Jacob,’ she said. ‘It sounds kind of biblical.’
Jacob was smiling to himself. ‘Well, I’m no saint. But maybe I could call you Marie?’ he suggested.
‘I’d like that, Jacob.’
After the meal Jacob glanced at her across the table. ‘Since you’ve allowed me to escort you, Marie, maybe you’d be kind enough to tell me what your dead friend told you by the graveside?’
Marie looked down at the table and said nothing for a moment. ‘It was a name, Jacob. I heard a name.’
‘So,’ he said, ‘would you care to tell me the name?’
She opened her mouth to speak but then froze. They both heard the sound of a horse whinnying from close by.
Jacob rose quickly to his feet. ‘Stay right there!’
he said. He drew his gun and went to the door.
He saw a man sitting on a horse looking down at the grave. Was it in contemplation or curiosity? Jacob wondered. The man turned to look at him in surprise, and then drew his gun and fired. The bullet splintered the door jamb inches above Jacob’s head, and Jacob ducked. Then he levelled his gun and fired. As he fired, the man spurred his horse forward and Jacob missed.
The man turned in the saddle and fired again, but missed by a yard.
Jacob cocked his gun and held it above his shoulder. Now the rider was galloping away hell for leather – Jacob could have taken another shot, but at that distance the chance of hitting his target was minimal.
‘Now I know,’ Marie said from beside him.
‘What do you know?’ he asked between clenched teeth.
Marie was breathing hard. ‘That was one of the men I saw in town just before my friends were murdered.’
‘I guessed that might be so,’ Jacob said.
‘And that’s not all,’ she said. ‘That man was riding Stan’s horse.’
He turned to her quickly. ‘Are you sure?’
She nodded. ‘I’d know that horse anywhere. It had a white blaze just above its muzzle, narrow at the base and widening towards the ears. And it was a chestnut colour. Stan loved that horse.’
‘So,’ Jacob said, ‘they say a dog always returns to its vomit and a murderer always returns to the scene of his crime, which means that guy was the killer.’
‘Except that he wasn’t,’ Marie said.
Jacob checked his revolver and returned it to its holster. ‘He won’t come back,’ he told her. ‘If he hadn’t been moving, I’d have winged him. Now why don’t we sit down and you can tell me what your dead friend said to you?’
Marie sat down and looked decidedly agitated. ‘She spoke the name Jack Davidson,’ she said.
‘Jack Davidson,’ Jacob repeated. ‘Is that supposed to mean something?’
‘That’s the name of the man who hired those killers. One of them, probably the one we’ve just seen, fired the shots, but the man who hired them was Jack Davidson.’
Jacob nodded three times. ‘And who is this man Davidson?’
Marie looked at him squarely. ‘Jack Davidson runs the Circle Bar Ranch, some twenty miles west of here. He’s the biggest rancher in the territory.’
‘But why should he want those two good people dead?’ Jacob asked.
Her challenging eyes met his. ‘Revenge,’ she said.
‘Revenge?’ he murmured.
‘Yes, revenge,’ she repeated.
Jacob went to the door and looked around. ‘Why don’t we sit out here on the bench while you tell me about Jack Davidson and revenge? If that killer comes back, which I doubt, we don’t want to be trapped like rats in here, do we?’
They sat side by side on the bench, and Jacob looked up at the sky and remembered what old Sam had said: ‘Red sky in the morning, shepherd’s warning!’ Although the sun was shining brightly, the sky to the east looked kind of angry.
‘There’s going to be rain,’ Marie said. ‘I can smell it in the air.’
‘I can smell it too,’ he said. ‘Too late to start back to town now. So, why don’t you just tell me about revenge?’
Marie was an intelligent young woman and she told the story with great fluency. Apparently, several years earlier when Beth was only sixteen, she had been offered in marriage to the big rancher Jack Davidson. Her pa and ma thought it would give her a good start in the world. But she couldn’t stand Jack Davidson, who was almost old enough to be her grandfather, and was a bully. But then she had fallen in love with Stan Salinger who was working as a wrangler on the ranch.
‘So they ran away together and settled down here. I guess they thought Jack Davidson would never find them. But they underrated Davidson, and they couldn’t have guessed he was revengeful enough to want them dead.’ She looked steadily at Jacob. ‘So that’s the story. The question is, what do we do about it?’
‘That’s a big question,’ Jacob replied. ‘And right now I don’t think I can come up with the answer.’ He looked up at the darkening sky and saw a flash of lightning. ‘A summer storm,’ he said. ‘I think we’ll have to sit right here until it clears.’
CHAPTER FOUR
It was more than a summer storm; it went on for more than an hour and the rain came down like stair rods. Jacob and Marie went into the cabin and sat at the pine table.
‘Well, Miss Marie, it looks like we might have to stay here all night.’
‘Indeed, we might,’ she agreed with a smile.
‘And what will the good folk of town think about that?’ he speculated.
‘Those good folk can think what they like,’ she said. ‘And they probably do anyway.’
But then the rain eased off and the birds began to twitter outside. They went out to the barn and saddled up the horses. Marie stood by the grave and said another prayer, and they set off back to town.
‘So what do we now, Mr Jacob?’ she asked him.
‘I’ve been thinking about that, Miss Marie, and I’ve been wondering why that hombre returned to the scene of the crime.’
‘And what are your conclusions on that, Mr Jacob?’
‘Well, I guess it wasn’t the need to repent. And another thing, why did he come alone?’
‘And riding on Stan’s horse, too,’ she said.
‘So many questions and not many answers,’ Jacob speculated.
Marie nodded. ‘They say two heads are better than one. So why don’t we put our thoughts together, Mr Jacob?’
‘So what do you think, Miss Marie?’
Marie paused for a moment. ‘I think this man took his pay and rode off the ranch. He came back to the scene of the crime to look for something and found us there.’
‘And he came alone because there’s been some kind of bust-up between him and Jack Davidson or the other killers,’ Jacob added.
‘That man Davidson may be a smart cowman, but he’s a jealous fool!’ Marie said vehemently.
‘A killer and a fool! Why do you say that, Marie?’
‘Because if you want your dirty work done, either you do it yourself or you hire one man to do it. If you hire four men, they’re going to fall out sooner or later, and probably sooner.’
Jacob looked at her for a moment and she looked back. He thought, This young woman has a fine brain, you know that, Jake?
Now they were on the edge of town, and to Jacob’s surprise it was bustling with activity. On the left close to the Grand hotel a tent with red and white stripes had been erected, and under it was a small dais or platform. Men and women were busy putting out chairs for an audience. Like most main streets in the West, the street was wide, so there was plenty of room for riders and buggies to pass by.
‘They’re getting ready for Sam Critchley’s event,’ Marie told him. ‘Everyone will be looking forward to it.’
‘So you’ve heard him before?’
‘Oh, I’ve heard him many times,’ she said with a smile. ‘Sam has the gift of tongues. I’ve seen women cry out and faint as he speaks. And he has the healing touch as well. He just lays his hand on a person’s head and they feel a whole lot better.’
‘So you really believe that stuff?’ Jacob marvelled.
She was smiling at him. ‘I not only believe it, I’ve felt it,’ she affirmed.
As they rode on, they saw Sheriff Olsen standing a little beyond the striped tent with a quirly on his lip. ‘So you’re back in town,’ he said with a suggestive grin. ‘What took you so long?’
‘What took us so long,’ Jacob said, ‘was there was a storm. Maybe you didn’t notice it, Sheriff?’
A gleam of malice appeared in Olsen’s eye. ‘So you took shelter in the cabin,’ he said.
‘And someone took a shot at us,’ Marie added.
Olsen looked startled. ‘Someone took a shot at you?’ he said.
Marie nodded. ‘I think it might have been one of the men who killed Bet
h and Stan.’
‘Are you sure about that, Miss Silversmith?’
‘Sure as I can be, Sheriff. He was riding Stan’s horse.’
Olsen took a step towards them. ‘Is this the truth you’re telling me?’
‘Either it’s the truth,’ Jacob said, ‘or we’ve had a joint vision, but that hombre was no phantom. Those bullets came real close. You come up to the cabin and I’ll show you where a bullet hit the door frame.’
For the first time Olsen looked really interested. ‘You’d better come over to the office and fill me in on the details.’
They sat in the sheriff’s office and Marie did most of the talking. She was a good talker, and spoke straight to the point without frills or unnecessary details. Jacob sat back and admired her skills. Olsen listened intently and nodded several times and jotted down a few notes. Then he shook his head and looked at Marie gravely. ‘Are you telling me that Jack Davidson hired those killers, Miss Silversmith?’
‘Yes, I am, Mr Olsen,’ she replied with dignity.
Olsen put down his pen and gave her a straight look. ‘You realize what you’re saying, Miss Silversmith?’
‘I think I do, Sheriff,’ she replied without flinching.
Olsen frowned. ‘You must know that Jack Davidson is one of the biggest ranchers in the territory. His father John Davidson started the business in the early days when cattle ranching was a really profitable business.’
Then Jacob spoke for the first time. ‘Do you know Jack Davidson, Sheriff?’
Olsen turned slowly to face Jacob. ‘Not personally, Mr Merriweather, but like everyone else around here, I’ve heard of him.’
‘So, what are we going to do, Sheriff?’ Jacob asked him bluntly.
Olsen rested his elbows on his desk and made an arch with his fingers. He didn’t look Jacob in the eye. ‘I need to think about this, Mr Merriweather. I need to think about it real hard.’
Jacob got up. ‘See you in the morning,’ he said, ‘ after you’ve had time to mull over the matter.’
They left the sheriff’s office and untethered their horses.
‘What do you think he’ll do, Jacob?’ Marie asked him.
Jacob grinned. ‘He’ll sleep on it and do nothing,’ he said.