Mankiller, Colorado

by William W. Johnstone

  Luke, Edgar, and a younger Devery who had to be Granville followed Jackson Devery to the platform. They climbed up the steps. The four Deverys gathered at one end, the six other candidates at the other end.

  Colonel Macauley stepped to the pulpit. “All right,” he boomed to the crowd, “we’ll hear from the town council candidates first.”

  Bo and Scratch stayed where they were, between the Deverys and the rest of the crowd, as the speeches began. The Texans had attended other political rallies, and what was said tonight in Mankiller wasn’t much different from the things they had heard before. One by one, Dr. Weathers, Wallace Kane, Sam Bradfield, and Harlan Green trooped up to the pulpit and promised that if they were elected, they would do their very best to serve the interests of everyone in Mankiller.

  Then it was Luke’s turn. He stood there looking uncomfortable and said, “If you folks know what’s good for you, you’ll vote for me and my kin. There wouldn’t be no town here if not for us! We’ll run it right, the same way we always have!”

  Then he turned the pulpit over to his cousin Granville, who looked even more nervous about speaking in front of the crowd. “Uh, you should, uh, vote for us because…because there’ll be trouble if you don’t.”

  Luke gave him a sharp poke in the side and frowned at him.

  Granville hurried on, “I mean, we’ll take care of all the troublemakers who come into our town and think they can get away with anything.” He turned his head to glower at Bo and Scratch. “There won’t be no more phony lawmen killin’ people right and left. Yes, sir, things’ll go back to bein’ just the way they were before, only, uh, better. Yeah, that’s it. Things’ll be better.”

  Luke took hold of Granville’s collar and pulled him away from the pulpit. “That’s enough. You said your piece. Now it’s Pa’s turn.”

  “Not yet,” Macauley said as he stepped forward. “First we’ll hear from the judicial candidates, starting with myself. Friends, you know my record! You know about my exemplary background as a practicing attorney in Virginia, and you know about my sterling service to the Old Dominion during the War of Northern Aggression!”

  That drew a few frowns and jeers from the crowd, which included both former Confederate and Union soldiers.

  “But that’s all in the past!” Macauley hurried on. “What matters is right here and now in Mankiller, Colorado, the place that all of us have chosen to call home! The place that has a chance to grow into a decent community if you good people will seize the opportunity to elect me and my companions to lead you! You have my solemn oath that should you elect me as your judge, I will see to it that the law is enforced fairly, justifiably, and honorably! I know the law, and before God, I am an honest and humble man! No more can be asked of a jurist!”

  Bo wasn’t so sure about that humble business, but he figured Macauley was honest enough.

  “Now,” the colonel went on, “we’ll hear from my opponent.” He motioned Edgar forward without giving him any more introduction than that.

  The liveryman shuffled up to the pulpit and peered out at the crowd. “You folks know me, too,” he said. “I ain’t loud, and I don’t carry on much. But fair is fair, and I know it when I see it and I ain’t afraid to say so. I reckon you can’t ask for much more than that from a judge, neither.” He nodded and stepped back.

  Bo actually thought that was a fairly impressive speech, despite its brevity. Edgar struck him as being basically honest, but he had lived in the shadow of his brother Jackson for so long and done everything that Jackson demanded of him, that he couldn’t be trusted. That was a shame, because under different circumstances, Edgar might have made a decent town councilman. Not a judge, though. He just wasn’t qualified for that.

  “That just leaves the two candidates for mayor,” Macauley said. He turned to look at Devery, who jerked his head toward Lucinda.

  “I don’t care what you people think of me,” Devery snapped. “I was raised to let ladies go first.”

  “Such chivalry,” Macauley muttered. “A shame the other honorable virtues were not enculcated along with it.” Before Devery could make any retort, the colonel held out his hand to Lucinda. “Mrs. Bonner?”

  Lucinda had lost her nervousness during her earlier outburst, and it hadn’t come back to bother her. She looked very calm and self-possessed as she stepped up.

  “I’ve already said what I have to say. Now it’s up to you citizens to make the real difference. Vote tomorrow with the courage of your convictions. Thank you.”

  The simple speech drew more cheers and applause than any of the others. It went on for a couple of minutes before Jackson Devery stepped forward and silenced the crowd with a glare.

  “These people—” He flung a hand toward the candidates at the other end of the platform. “These people been talkin’ to your hearts. I’m gonna talk to your brains and your guts. You’re all smart enough to know that it ain’t wise to vote against me and my kin.”

  “Is that a threat?” Colonel Macauley demanded.

  Devery’s head snapped toward him. “I didn’t interrupt you, you old blowhard, so keep your trap shut while I’m talkin’! And no, it ain’t a threat. It’s a fact.” He pointed toward the crowd. “And ever’ one of those folks know it. They know it in their head, and they know it in their gut.” He took a moment to sweep his gaze over the crowd, dragging it out as if he were studying the face of everyone there so that he could remember them. Then he said, “You know what you better do.”

  With that, he turned and walked off the platform, taking Luke, Edgar, and Granville with him. The crowd stood there quietly. The buzz of conversation didn’t start up again until all the Deverys went back up the hill to the old house that had disgorged them.

  “The son of a bitch put it plain enough,” Scratch said to Bo. “What I can’t figure out is why he’s goin’ to this much trouble. Why’s he want to win this election instead of just grabbin’ power with all the guns on his side?”

  “Because in the long run, guns aren’t enough,” Bo said. “Santa Anna had a lot more guns than we did, but in the end that didn’t stop us from booting him out. Same thing was true of King George and the American colonists a hundred years ago. Devery’s trying to scare folks into supporting him, and that won’t work, either. People have to believe in their leaders, like we believed in Sam Houston.”

  “Well, I reckon they can believe in Lucinda, after those speeches she made.”

  Bo nodded. “They were pretty good, all right.”

  He and Scratch went to the back of the platform, where Lucinda and the other candidates were coming down the steps. Callie and Tess greeted their mother with hugs. Now that it was all over, Lucinda looked nervous again.

  She turned to Bo and Scratch and asked, “Did I do all right?”

  “You did more’n all right,” Scratch assured her. “You said just the right things, and anybody with a lick of sense is gonna vote for you.”

  She shook her head doubtfully. “I’m not sure. Jackson Devery pretty much came right out and said that if he and the others aren’t elected, they’ll take revenge on the town.”

  “Let him try it,” Colonel Macauley said. “Let him just try it, and he’ll see what happens then!”

  “What will happen then?” Lucinda asked. “You all saw, he had at least twenty men with him. Twenty well-armed men who are used to violence and who’ll do whatever he tells them to do. What do we have in answer to that threat?”

  Everyone’s eyes swung to Bo and Scratch.

  Scratch grinned and shrugged. “Ten-to-one odds,” he said. “Nothin’ to worry about.”

  But Bo knew from their worried expressions that no one here tonight believed that.

  CHAPTER 29

  The morning of June 5, election day in Mankiller, dawned beautifully. At this elevation the heat of summer hadn’t taken over yet, so there was still a pleasantly cool crispness to the air. The sky over the mountains was a deep blue, dotted here and there with white clouds swept along
by a good breeze. It was the sort of day that made a man feel glad to be alive.

  And if he and Scratch were still alive at the end of it, Bo reflected, he would be glad about that, too. Maybe even a little surprised.

  When they got to the Colorado Palace Saloon, they found the doors closed and locked. Scratch rapped on one of the doors, and after a moment Lyle Rushford looked out the window to see who was there and then came over to unlock the door.

  “We closed down a short time ago,” Rushford explained as the Texans came into the saloon. “Some of my regulars didn’t like being kicked out, but I told them we’d be open again tonight, after the election’s over.”

  “Appreciate you volunteering the use of your place,” Bo said.

  Rushford shrugged. “It’s the biggest room in town. Anyway, in the long run it’ll be good for business. People will hang around to find out what the results of the election are, and then they’ll already be here when they want to celebrate afterward.”

  “Let’s hope there’s somethin’ to celebrate,” Scratch said.

  “There will be,” the saloon keeper replied. “I’ve got a good feeling about it.”

  Bo hoped Rushford was right. If the vote went against the Deverys, what could Jackson Devery do? He couldn’t seriously think that he and his family could gun down all the winning candidates, along with the town’s lawmen, and get away with it. Could he?

  The problem was, Bo honestly didn’t know the answer to that question. He didn’t know how crazy drunk with power Jackson Devery really was.

  The election was scheduled to last from nine in the morning until three in the afternoon. That would give every man in Mankiller enough time to vote. Bo and Scratch planned to be on hand the whole time, just to make certain there were no disturbances.

  Rushford’s bartenders were moving the tables back, creating a large open space where people could line up to vote. They would be given ballots at one table, stop at another table to mark them, and then drop the ballots in a strongbox with a hole cut in the lid that sat on a third table.

  “We’ll leave you to finish getting ready,” Bo told the saloonkeeper. “We’ll be back before the voting starts, though.”

  Rushford nodded. “You don’t think Devery will try to keep people from voting, do you?”

  “There’s no tellin’ what that varmint might try,” Scratch said.

  The Texans walked up the street to the café. The place was very busy this morning. Lucinda might be the mayor of Mankiller before the day was over, but for now she was hustling to get breakfast cooked and served for all her customers. She barely had time to greet Bo and Scratch with a smile.

  “Go on back to the kitchen and tell Charley I said to feed you,” she told them.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Scratch said. “I ain’t gonna turn down that offer.”

  They helped themselves to coffee in the kitchen, and Charley Ellis set plates heaped with food in front of them. He asked, “Does that sister of mine know what she’s doing?”

  “By feedin’ us on the cuff, you mean?” Scratch shook his head. “I don’t know, she’s liable to go broke doin’ that.”

  “No, I mean this loco mayor business. Devery’s not gonna let her get away with it.”

  “He won’t have any choice in the matter,” Bo said. “It’s up to the voters.”

  Charley’s disgusted grunt showed just what he thought of that idea.

  After the Texans had eaten, they stopped at the counter in the front room long enough for Bo to ask Lucinda, “Will you be coming down to the Colorado Palace later?”

  She shook her head. “It looks like I’m going to be busy here all day. Just send someone to get me when it’s all over…if you need me.”

  “We will,” Scratch said confidently.

  They took a quick turn around town. Most businesses were open and doing a brisk trade. The hitch rails were full, as usual, and a lot of people were on the boardwalks and in the street. An air of excitement gripped the town. Folks smiled and greeted Bo and Scratch by name.

  The only Deverys they had seen so far were the trio locked up in the jail.

  When they returned to the sheriff’s office, they found Biscuits O’Brien eating the breakfast that Callie Bonner had delivered to him when she brought over the prisoners’ meals. Bo thought something was different about the sheriff, and after studying Biscuits for a moment, he asked, “Did you shave and wash up?”

  Biscuits grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, I did.”

  “And he even brushed his hair, looks like,” Scratch said. “I’ll swan, Biscuits, what’s gotten into you?”

  “It’s election day,” Biscuits said. “Maybe by the time the day’s over, I’ll be a real sheriff.”

  Bo told him, “You already are. You’ve done a fine job guarding those prisoners.”

  “Nobody’s tried to take ’em away,” Biscuits pointed out.

  “You’d better keep a close eye on them today,” Bo said. “Devery might try to take advantage of all the commotion going on and bust them out.”

  Biscuits patted the stock of one of the shotguns lying on the desk. “I’ll be ready for him if he does.”

  From the cell block, Thad called, “Hey, deputies! Creel! Morton!”

  Scratch stepped over to the door and swung it open. “What do you want?”

  Thad gave the Texans an ugly grin. “Just wanted to take one last look at you bastards. You’re about to learn that you can’t mess with the Deverys.”

  “You’re on the wrong side of the bars to be sayin’ anything like that.”

  “For now,” Thad said. “For now.”

  Scratch slammed the door. “I shouldn’t let that ugly little varmint get under my skin,” he muttered, “but he does.”

  “Come on,” Bo said. “Let’s get back over to the saloon.”

  Men were already lining up outside the Colorado Palace, even though the doors were still locked and it was half an hour until they would open for voting. Bo and Scratch made their way through the crowd and knocked on the doors. Rushford let them in again. By now the room was set up the way it was supposed to be. Rushford took a big gold watch from his pocket, checked the time, and said, “Now all we have to do is wait.”

  The half hour passed slowly, but it passed. And finally, when the hands of Rushford’s watch pointed at nine and twelve, he nodded to the Texans. Bo went over to the door, twisted the key in the lock, and opened it.

  “The election’s on,” he called to the crowd outside, which now filled the street. Cheers and whoops went up from the townspeople. Bo thought again that they really needed a brass band here in Mankiller.

  As men surged toward the door, he held up a hand to slow them down. “One at a time,” he said. “Line up Indian style, one at a time. That’s the only way this’ll work.”

  With Scratch standing close to the tables where Rushford’s bartenders sat to run the election and Bo ushering the men into the saloon, the voting got under way. Bo cautioned the men not to talk about who they were voting for.

  “That’s why they call it a secret ballot,” he said.

  One of the men pointed to the middle table. “The fella sittin’ there can see who I put down,” he said. “So can the other two.”

  “Maybe, but they’re not looking. They’ve sworn to be impartial.”

  “How do we know that?” a new voice demanded. Bo looked around to see Luke Devery in the doorway. The men who’d been lining up there a moment earlier had shrunk back away from him. “Pa says he wants me to watch the whole thing and make sure nobody cheats.”

  “Fine,” Bo said, waving Luke into the room. “Go right ahead. Just don’t say anything to anybody while they’re voting. That wouldn’t be proper.”

  “Nothin’ about this whole business is proper,” Luke said. “The only proper thing is the Deverys runnin’ Mankiller, the way we always have.”

  “Nothing stays the same,” Bo said, “whether we want it to or not.”

  Luke stomped over behind the
tables and took up position there, with his arms folded across his chest and a scowl on his bearded face. Bo saw a few of the men glancing nervously at him as they voted. That was exactly why Luke was here, to make men think twice about voting against the Deverys. Bo knew that, but there was nothing he could do about it. Luke was right when he said he had a right to monitor the election and make sure it was fair.

  Scratch asked, “How come you ain’t voted yet, Luke?”

  “I’ll vote when the rest of my family gets here,” Luke replied. “Deverys do things together.”

  “Yeah, so I’ve heard,” Scratch said dryly. “That had somethin’ to do with gettin’ your brothers and your cousin arrested in that whorehouse ruckus.”

  Luke didn’t say anything to that, just glared even darker.

  An election was an exciting thing…at first. But then it became more tedious for the folks who had to stay there the whole time. The hours dragged by, and the crowd thinned out, although there were still quite a few people in the street. The only incident occurred when a couple of men tried to sneak through the line and vote a second time, but one of Rushford’s bartenders recognized them and turned them away.

  Then there was a stirring in the people outside that caught Bo’s attention. He stepped onto the porch and looked up the hill, the same way everyone else was looking. Then he turned his head and called to those inside, “The Deverys are coming.”

  Luke snorted. “Did you think the rest of us wouldn’t show up, Creel? One thing you better learn while you still can…Deverys don’t never give up. Never.”

  Bo came back inside. A minute later, Jackson Devery marched in, his head held high and defiant arrogance etched on his face, as usual. He sneered at Bo, Scratch, and Rushford and said, “We’re here to vote.”

  “I’d say you’re a legal resident of the town,” Bo told him. “Go right ahead.”

  Devery got his ballot, marked it, and tossed it contemptuously into the strongbox. Luke went next, then Edgar and Granville and one by one all the other Deverys and Devery kinfolk. When they were finished, Jackson Devery asked, “How long does this sham of an election run?”