Rattler's Law, Volume One

by James Reasoner

  A moment later, Cully felt a tug at his arm. He glanced over to see Parker holding the rope. "Have you ever roped any cattle?" the man from the circus asked him urgently.

  Cully stared at him, wondering if the fellow had gone crazy. "Sure, I've thrown a loop over plenty of steers," he said.

  Parker thrust the coiled rope at him. "Good! See if you can rope one of those gargoyles."

  Cully looked up, narrowing his eyes. Suddenly he realized what Parker had in mind. Far from crazy, Parker had hit on just the thing they needed.

  Assigning a man to replace him at the end of the line, Cully took the rope from Parker. He shook out a loop and began twirling it slowly, gradually getting the rope to move faster and faster. When he was ready, he suddenly lashed out with his arm, snapping his wrist as he cast the loop up toward the top of the warehouse.

  The rope fell short, striking the side of the building a good eight feet below the top.

  Cully's mouth tightened as he hurriedly pulled the lariat back in and gathered the loop again. He tried once more, putting more strength into his throw this time. The crowd had noticed what he was trying to do, and the bystanders groaned as the second toss also missed.

  His face grim, Cully prepared for another try. Although it had probably been only a minute since Flint had gone into the building, it already seemed like hours. Heat from the blaze blasted against Cully's face as he flung the loop one more time.

  The throw was perfect, the loop widening out as it sailed through the air and then settling gently over the masonry figure at the corner of the building. With an exultant cry, Cully jerked it taut and then leaned on the line, testing it for strength and stability.

  Parker reached out and put his hand on the rope. "I'll climb it," he declared.

  Cully shook his head. "Thanks, Mr. Parker, but it's my job."

  "Maybe so, but I've had years of experience at things like this, Deputy." Parker grinned. "I used to make my living climbing up on things, remember?"

  "What about your bad leg?" Cully asked.

  "A climb like this requires a great deal of strength in the arms. The legs are used primarily for balance. And mine will do just fine for that."

  Cully had to make a decision. This discussion was wasting time. Abruptly, he nodded and released the rope. "Good luck," he said sincerely.

  Parker grinned and, adjusting his poster-hanging hammer behind his belt, took hold of the rope with both hands. He leaned back slightly as he lifted a leg and placed his foot against the side of the building. Then, letting his arms take the weight of his body, he began walking up the wall of the warehouse.

  He was vaguely aware of the excited buzz from the crowd as he started his ascent. It was reminiscent of all the times he had performed under the big top, and for a moment, things blurred for Parker. He was back in the circus again, going through his act, thrilling and dazzling the audience with his daring, flying through the air alongside the beautiful Moriah Houser—

  A cloud of acrid smoke puffed into his face as he passed a boarded-up window on the second floor, bringing him back to a harsh, eye-stinging reality. The smoke was coming out through cracks around the boards. Parker had already decided to try to get in through one of the single third-floor windows on this side of the building. That seemed to offer the best chance of avoiding the flames.

  The climb itself wasn’t difficult. Within moments, Parker had reached the window that was his destination. It was boarded up like the others in the warehouse, but it had fewer planks nailed over it. Hanging onto the rope with his left hand, Parker used his right to grasp his hammer. He didn’t glance down as he started prying one of the boards loose.

  The nails were rusty and stubborn, but Parker threw all the strength of his back and shoulders into the job, and the board came loose with a screech of nails. "Look out below!" he shouted as it dropped to the street. Several of the bystanders jumped back as the board fell.

  It was joined a moment later by another one, then another. Parker had a big enough opening to squeeze through now. The pane of glass beneath the boards seemed to be intact, but it took only a second to shatter it with the hammer. After knocking out the shards around the opening, Parker eased his legs through it. Smoke poured out from the broken window as he slipped into the burning warehouse, taking the rope with him.

  Down on the ground, Cully watched anxiously, peering upward at the window where Parker had disappeared. The seconds stretched out and became minutes that seemed like eternities. A silence settled over the crowd. The bucket brigade continued its work, but everyone else was watching the window, just like Cully. The deputy took his attention off the warehouse long enough to glance at the crowd and spotted his brother Joshua, the pastor of the Calvary Methodist Church. Joshua's lips were moving soundlessly, and Cully realized that he was offering up a prayer.

  Suddenly, a booted foot came crashing through the boards that remained on the window. When all the planks had been knocked loose, Asa Parker appeared. It was hard to see through the smoke, but a cheer went up when the crowd saw that someone was with Parker. Cully clenched a fist in triumph as he recognized the tall figure of Lucas Flint. Cully saw that both Flint and Parker were as grimy and soot covered as the boy called Hector had been.

  It was too early to celebrate, though. The men still had to get down from their precarious position. Besides, Flint was carrying something, and Cully's features became bleak as he realized that it was a body.

  Parker climbed out of the window, looped the rope around his wrist, and braced himself against the side of the building. Flint leaned out carefully, handing the body over to Parker. The former acrobat sagged for a moment under the weight, but then he steadied himself. Carefully draping the body over his shoulder, Parker started down.

  Flint leaned out of the window, watching Parker's descent, and glancing up to see how the rope and the gargoyle were withstanding the weight.

  There were men waiting to take the body from Parker as he approached the ground. He handed the limp form down, then released the rope and dropped the last few feet, catching himself easily as he landed. Over the roar of the fire, he shouted, "Come on, Marshal!"

  Flint reached out and grasped the rope, then let himself swing away from the window. Moving less gracefully than Parker, he came down the rope hand over hand, unable to master the art of walking down the wall as the man from the circus had. Still, he got the job done, and a minute later his booted feet touched solid ground. Coughing, Flint staggered away from the building.

  Cully grasped his arm to help support him. Someone thrusted a canteen into Flint's hands, and he drank thirstily from it to clear his throat.

  Above, flames burst from the window where Flint and Parker had made their escape.

  "Are you all right, Marshal?" Cully asked anxiously.

  Flint nodded. He splashed water from the canteen onto his hand and wiped away some of the soot from his face. "Tell the bucket brigade to give it up," he said. "There's nothing they can do to save the warehouse. Just make sure the fire doesn't spread to any of the other buildings."

  Cully nodded and hurried away to pass along the marshal's orders.

  Surrounded by the crowd, Parker had lowered the body of the boy called Billy to the ground. The press of people around them suddenly parted as a short, thick-bodied man with graying reddish hair and beard pushed some of the bystanders aside with one arm. With his other hand, he clutched the arm of an attractive brunette woman carrying a black bag.

  "Make room here!" Angus MacQuarrie, one of Abilene's tavern keepers roared. "The doctor's coming through, dinna ye know!"

  Dr. Rose Keller hurried through the path cleared by Angus and knelt beside the boy's body. She glanced up at Asa Parker, who was breathing heavily and coughing. "Are you all right?" she asked.

  Parker nodded. "I'll be fine. Tend to the boy."

  Rose's trained fingers went to Billy's throat, searching desperately for a pulse. She glanced up again a moment later and said, "He's alive!"


  Another cheer went up from the crowd as the word spread. With the help of a couple of the men, Rose got Billy turned over. Placing her hands on his back, she began to push, in and out, in and out, trying to make the boy's lungs work on their own. After a few seconds, a great, shuddering spasm of coughing shook him. When that was finally over, his breathing settled into a more regular rhythm, although it was still hoarse and labored.

  Rose stood up and pushed back a lock of dark hair that had fallen into her face. "Get him away from this smoke," she directed the men. Then she turned to look for Lucas Flint. Spotting him, she hurried over.

  He grinned tiredly at her as he met her anxious gaze. "Don't worry," he told her before she could ask. "I'll be fine as soon as I get the rest of that smoke out of me."

  "Are you having trouble breathing?"

  "A little soreness in my throat, but I figure that's normal enough after swallowing so much smoke. How's Parker?"

  "The other man who went into the warehouse? He says he's all right, but I want to take a look at him," Rose declared.

  With Flint at her side, she went to check on Parker, who assured her that he was having no trouble breathing. Rose looked from Flint to Parker and shook her head. "You men are very lucky," she said. "You could have died from smoke inhalation, not to mention the danger from the fire itself."

  Flint nodded. "I didn't have much choice as long as somebody was trapped in there." He looked at Parker. "But you didn't have to go in after me."

  Parker grinned. "I just figured it was about time I put my training to good use."

  "Well, you saved our lives," Flint said with a smile of respect. "I never would've gotten him out alone."

  Nearby, Billy was on his feet, leaning on his friend Hector. Both boys were a sight, their faces and clothes blackened with soot. Suddenly, Emery Thornbury's slender figure appeared in front of them.

  "You young devils!" he lashed out. "I hope you're satisfied. You've burned down a building, nearly gotten Marshal Flint and that other man killed, and disrupted an entire day of schooling! Yes, I hope you're proud." The schoolmaster's voice shook with anger. "Now get on back to the school. There's a switch waiting for both of you!"

  Drawn by Thornbury's ranting, Flint walked over to the scene, accompanied by Rose and Parker. He heard Thornbury's order to the boys and said, "I think it'd be better if these two fellows went home, Mr. Thornbury. I'm sure they don't feel too well right now."

  Still glaring at Hector and Billy, Thornbury shook his head and answered, "I don't care how they feel. They're going to class, where they should have been all along." He reached out and grasped Hector's ear, twisting brutally, and yanking him away from his friend.

  Flint's hand came down hard on Thornbury's shoulder, and in a low voice, he grated, "I didn't risk my life for these boys just so that you could mistreat them, Thornbury. You'd best think about what you're doing."

  Wincing at the marshal's grip, Thornbury released Hector's ear. "All right, Marshal," he spat as he twisted out of Flint's grasp. "The little troublemakers can go home. But I expect to see them in class tomorrow, and I promise you, they'll be given enough work to keep them out of trouble for years to come! Now, I have to get back to my students."

  With that, he turned and stalked away.

  Judging from the number of children among the crowd, Flint felt sure that Thornbury was going to be upset when he returned to the schoolhouse and discovered that most of his charges had taken advantage of the opportunity to slip away from the school. That was Thornbury's worry, though, not his.

  Flint looked at Parker and Rose and shook his head. "Thornbury's not too pleasant a fellow, is he?" he said.

  "I'd like to get him up on the trapeze and be the one catching him—with no net below," Parker commented dryly.

  Flint grinned back at him, and then, like everyone else, turned to watch as the roof of the warehouse collapsed with a roar.

  3

  Emery Thornbury pushed his fingers through his thinning, dishwater-blond hair and sighed wearily. He surveyed the sullen faces of the children in the classroom, and his jaw tightened. It was nearly noon now, and it had taken him this long to round up enough of the students to continue with the day's work. Thornbury wished he had never left the school to see what had caused the commotion earlier.

  "All right," he said sharply as he leaned forward, palms flat on his desk. "Since we've already lost so much of the day, we shall have to make up some of the time by skipping our lunch period." He held up a hand to stifle the groans of protest. "Those of you who have food with you may eat it at your desks, but I warn you! Not one crumb do I want to see on these floors, do you understand? Those of you who intended to go home to eat, well, perhaps next time you won't be so quick to try to take advantage of your teacher." Thornbury's thin lips curved in what passed for a smile.

  He knew he was being harsh on them, but it was what the little ingrates deserved, he thought. After all the time and effort he had spent trying to drum some education into their miserable brains, he was entitled to some respect.

  "Now," he said, picking up the thin willow switch that he used as a pointer and turning to a map tacked on the wall, "we shall drill for an hour on the state and territorial capitals."

  Thornbury ignored the moans and groans and launched into the lesson. He had covered all of this so many times that he could recite the material in his sleep by now. As he forced them to repeat the capitals by rote, his mind began to wander.

  His eyes moved around the large, single-room schoolhouse. Every desk was full, and some students were sitting on the floor in several places. There had been more than enough students for one teacher before that meddling nun and her orphans had arrived. Now Abilene's school was packed to bursting.

  Emery Thornbury vividly remembered Sister Lorraine's first visit. He had just finished giving a hiding to that obnoxious young Fields boy, and the lad was still sobbing as he tried to sit down at his desk. Sister Lorraine had paused just inside the door of the school, frowning as she glanced at the little ruffian.

  "Mr. Thornbury?" she had asked, looking back at the teacher.

  Thornbury had returned the frown. He never liked to be interrupted, especially by a woman. "Yes?" he had snapped. "What can I do for you, madam?"

  "I'm Sister Lorraine, Mr. Thornbury," the nun had answered quietly as she moved into the room. "Perhaps you've heard that I recently arrived in Abilene with a group of orphans under my care."

  "I have heard talk to that effect," Thornbury had admitted. "But it's none of my affair."

  Sister Lorraine had paused, a tight smile on her face. "Oh, but it is now," she had said. "I've come to enroll the children in your school."

  Thornbury had shaken his head before the words were out of her mouth. "Out of the question. I already have too many students. You'll have to see to the education of your...orphans." He had somehow made the word sound dirty.

  "But that's impossible," Sister Lorraine had said over the excited babble that had come from the children in the room. "I'm not qualified to teach them, sir. That's your job."

  "No, it is not, madam," Thornbury had said stiffly.

  "Mr. Thornbury, the children at the orphanage are citizens of Abilene now and are entitled to the fine education Abilene offers in its school," Sister Lorraine replied, her blue eyes steadily measuring him.

  Thornbury's lip had curled. "This is my school."

  "I was under the impression that you were appointed by the school board and that your salary was paid by the town," she had countered, warming to the argument.

  "So it is. But I make the rules, and I say that the class is already full. So, there you have it." He had drawn himself up to his full height, which was approximately the same as the woman's. "And now we must return to our work. There have been enough distractions for one day."

  Sister Lorraine had nodded toward the Fields boy, who was shifting uncomfortably in his seat, tears still running down his cheeks. "I suppose that poor boy caused a distract
ion.''

  "Indeed, he did. And he was punished for it."

  "I see," she had said. "Yes, I see it all. I wish you good day, Mr. Thornbury." She had cast a sympathetic look at the Fields boy as she left the schoolroom shaking her head.

  Thinking about what had happened as a result of the nun's visit was a bitter pill for Thornbury to swallow.

  The next morning right after the class had settled into its first lesson, Mr. Thornbury had turned from the blackboard to see Sister Lorraine at the schoolroom door. She had swept to the front of the room with over a dozen boys and girls of every age and description following in her wake and turned to the class with a radiant smile.

  "Good morning, class. I've come to introduce your new classmates to you. This is Patrick—"

  "Oh, no you don't," Emery Thornbury had roared, cutting her off. "We have no room in this class. I told you that yesterday. As the schoolmaster, I will accept no more students—"

  "And so you did, Mr. Thornbury," Sister Lorraine had agreed sweetly, cutting him off as effectively as he had her. "But perhaps you didn’t take everything into account when you made your decision. If you would be so good as to step outside for a moment." She had gestured graciously toward the door.

  Every child in the room had sat motionless and wide-eyed, staring at the contest of wills being played out in front of them. As Mr. Thornbury had strode past them to the back of the room, they had turned in their seats to watch him, the spunkier among them leaping to the windows as soon as he was outside.

  The head of the school board and the mayor had stood in the school yard and told him in no uncertain terms that he would accept the orphans as students in the school.

  "I tell you, I can't," Thornbury had objected. "The school has too many students now. I'm only one man. I can't handle all of those...those little hooligans!"