Vengeance Is Mine

by William W. Johnstone

  “Grieving over Newt and Chaco and mad as a wet hen at that so-called sheriff for arresting John Howard,” Elaine replied, “but other than that I’m okay.”

  The other men had gotten out of their vehicles. They were all armed. “No more varmints lurkin’ around?” Everett asked.

  “Not that I know of.” Elaine smiled. “But it’s sweet of you boys to come and check on me.”

  “Sam Gonzales called me,” Devery explained. “Said John Howard asked him to make sure you were bein’ looked after.” Devery glanced at the gun in Elaine’s hand.

  She said, “I can take care of myself, but I appreciate the sentiment. I was just on my way to town to see John Howard.”

  “The sheriff probably won’t let you see him,” Hubie said. “Hammond can be mighty contrary.”

  “And he sure won’t let you in with that gun,” W.R. pointed out.

  Elaine looked down at the revolver. “I know.” She turned and handed it to Carmen. “Put this back in my room, please.”

  Carmen handled the weapon gingerly. She nodded and said, “Sí, senora.”

  Elaine was about to argue with the men some more about going to town, when the cell phone she had slipped into the pocket of her dress rang. She pulled it out and thumbed the button to answer the call. “Yes?”

  “Elaine? Sam Gonzales here.”

  Elaine let out a sigh. “Hello, Sam. I hear that you’ve seen John Howard. Is he all right?”

  “He seemed fine, other than being upset over Newt and Chaco and mad at Sheriff Hammond.”

  “Yes, that’s John Howard,” she said with a faint smile. “I was just on my way into town to see him.”

  “I wouldn’t advise that.”

  Elaine frowned. “Why not?”

  “From the story John Howard told me, Hammond could have arrested you, too, Elaine. If he sees you again it might remind him of that, and he could take you into custody right there in the jail. He’s less likely to make a move against you if you’re lying low out there at the ranch.”

  “You’re sure about that?”

  “Positive.”

  Her frown deepened. “I don’t like it, Sam. My place is with my husband.”

  “Not behind bars, it’s not. If you think John Howard is angry and upset now, think about what he’d be like if he knew you were arrested, too.”

  What the lawyer was saying made sense, Elaine supposed, whether she liked it or not. She tried one last gambit. “Did John Howard actually tell you to keep me away from him?”

  “No, but that’s my best legal advice to you.”

  She sighed. “All right. If you think it’s best, I’ll stay out here. I certainly don’t want to make things any worse for him. Have you heard what’s going to happen next?”

  “I just left the district attorney’s office. John Howard will be arraigned at nine o’clock tomorrow morning in Judge Goodnight’s court.”

  “So he’ll have to spend the night in jail?” Visions of a so-called accident that would prove fatal to her husband danced maddeningly in Elaine’s head.

  “That’s right, but don’t worry. He won’t be placed in with the other prisoners. Since he’s awaiting arraignment he should be kept in a holding cell overnight. I plan to drop in on him unannounced several times, just to make sure no funny business is going on.”

  “Thanks, Sam. You’ll get in touch with me if anything changes?”

  “Right away,” Gonzales promised.

  After she’d said good-bye to the lawyer, Elaine turned back to the other ranchers. “That was Sam Gonzales,” she explained, unnecessarily since they had heard her end of the conversation. “He thinks it would be best for me to stay here and not go into town, especially not to the jail.”

  “That sounds like a good idea to me, too,” Devery said. “I reckon you ought to call in all your hands, pass out some guns, and just hunker down until tomorrow. We’ll stay here in the house, just to make sure nothin’ happens.”

  Elaine nodded. “All right. I appreciate this, boys.”

  “Don’t you worry ’bout it,” Devery assured her. “We’d do most anything for ol’ John Howard.” He looked at the other men. “The way it turns out, looks like he’s fightin’ the battles that all of us should have been fightin’ all along.”

  A deputy brought Stark’s supper and slid the tray through the opening in the door. Stark was mighty hungry by that time, since during all the confusion he hadn’t gotten any lunch. It had been a long time since breakfast that morning.

  He lost some of his appetite, though, when he recalled that at the time he’d sat down to breakfast, Newt and Chaco had still been alive.

  Still, he forced himself to eat, knowing that he needed to keep his strength up. He had just finished the meal when Sam Gonzales was brought down the corridor by a deputy. The man let Sam into the cell and then closed and locked the door behind him.

  “How are they treating you so far, John Howard?” the lawyer asked.

  “All right, I suppose,” Stark replied. “Other than the fact that I never should have been locked up in the first place.”

  “We’ll get our chance to argue that,” Gonzales assured him. “In the meantime, I thought you’d like to know that your friends have gathered at the Diamond S, and they’re not going to let anything happen to Elaine.”

  Stark heaved a sigh of relief and nodded. “I’m glad to hear it.”

  “I talked to her just a little while ago, in fact, and she sounded upset but otherwise fine. She was about to come into town and try to see you, but I convinced her that wouldn’t be a good idea.”

  “Better just to wait,” Stark agreed. “I don’t want her to see me behind bars. Any word yet on when the arraignment will be?”

  “Tomorrow morning, nine o’clock, with Judge Goodnight presiding.”

  Stark nodded. He could count on getting a fair shake from Harvey Goodnight. And that was all he asked.

  “I’ve put in an official request that you be held overnight in this cell, alone.”

  Stark looked at Gonzales shrewdly. “You think it’s possible Hammond might try to arrange a little accident for me?”

  “Stranger things have happened.” Gonzales rubbed his eyes for a moment. “From what I hear, you’ve made some powerful enemies, John Howard.”

  “If you reckon it’d be better for you and your family if you didn’t handle my case, Sam, I understand.”

  Gonzales shook his head. “Absolutely not. You can put that idea out of your head. I’m on this case to stay, as long as you’re satisfied with my efforts.”

  “More than satisfied so far,” Stark said with a tired grin. He grew more solemn as he went on, “You’ll handle all the arrangements for Newt and Chaco?”

  “Of course. The coroner hasn’t released their bodies yet and probably won’t for a day or two, but I’ll stay on top of the situation. You’ll be out on bail in plenty of time for the funerals.”

  Stark nodded. It was funny, the twists and turns that life made. He had never considered the possibility that someday he would be out on bail. He was a law-abiding man who had fully expected to go through life without ever being arrested. It just went to show you that you never could tell what might happen.

  For example, when he came home from Vietnam, he had thought he was through with war.

  But now, a new war had come home to him, and it would be fought on the land where he had grown up, the land he loved. And above all, it was a war that he had to win.

  The night passed quietly in the jail. Sam Gonzales dropped in again, but he didn’t have any news and Stark figured the lawyer was just there to make sure he was still all right. Stark didn’t sleep much. Every time he closed his eyes he was haunted by the memories of how he had found Newt and Chaco. Occasionally he thought as well about the burning SUV and the two men he had shot. Those images were equally vivid but not as disturbing. He was a little surprised that he could be responsible for the deaths of seven men in less than twenty-four hours and not be both
ered too much by it.

  The fact that those men had been vermin in human form probably had something to do with it, he decided.

  The deputies woke him up at five the next morning. He had finally dozed off only a short time earlier, so a great weariness gripped him as he ate the dry toast and scrambled eggs they brought him for breakfast and drank the bitter coffee. His shoulders ached, and his eyes felt as if they had been taken out of his head, rolled around in some particularly gritty sand, and then popped back into their sockets.

  Sam showed up again at eight o’clock and went over the procedures for the arraignment. “We’ll plead not guilty, right?” Stark asked.

  “You won’t enter a plea at this time,” Gonzales explained. “District Attorney Wilfredo will explain the basics of the case, and then I’ll ask for a dismissal of the charges, but the chances we’ll get it are small. The judge will bind you over, and the case will be sent to the grand jury.”

  “But I’ll be released on bail, right?”

  “That’s right. If it’s too high for you to make a cash bond, we’ll go through a bail bondsman, but one way or the other you’ll be released this morning.”

  “What then?”

  Gonzales shrugged. “The case goes to the grand jury. That’s probably where it ends. The grand jury will decline to indict you on the charges, and it’s over.”

  “Can’t be soon enough to suit me,” Stark said. “One night in jail is more than enough.”

  “Well, at least there wasn’t any trouble. I take it there wasn’t?”

  Stark shook his head. “Nobody came near me. It was a quiet night. Plenty of time for me to think.”

  He didn’t add that what he had thought about was what would happen next. Not the arraignment or even the possibility of a trial, but what Ramirez would do next. A man like the Vulture wasn’t going to let this pass, nor would he rely on the American justice system. He would want to take matters into his own hands.

  “Have you talked to Elaine this morning?”

  “Yes, and she’s fine, just tired and worried,” Gonzales said. “Everything was quiet on the ranch last night.”

  Stark nodded in relief. That was something good, anyway.

  The deputies came along and shooed Gonzales out of the cell. Sam looked back over his shoulder and said, “I’ll see you in court, John Howard. Don’t worry. This is almost over.”

  Sam was a good man, Stark thought, but he was sure wrong about that. This wasn’t anywhere near over.

  A short time later he was put in the back of a jail van and taken over to the courthouse. He was handcuffed again for the transfer, and it was just as humiliating as it had been the day before, not to mention painful. Those damned handcuffs pinched. That was another thing he wouldn’t have thought that he would ever experience firsthand.

  Stark wasn’t prepared for what was waiting at the courthouse. When the jail van came to a stop and the driver turned off the engine, Stark heard a low murmur that sounded almost like the rumble of distant thunder. A moment later, one of the deputies swung the rear doors open, and the thunder wasn’t distant anymore. It was right there, surrounding the van, and it consisted of scores of voices yelling all at the same time. Bright flashes assailed Stark’s eyes as he stepped out of the van with a deputy close on each side of him, but they weren’t caused by lightning.

  A double row of deputies formed a corridor through which he could walk. On both sides of that corridor were reporters and cameramen, taking his picture and shouting for comments from him. Stark ignored them as best he could, but he couldn’t help glancing at them. Del Rio had a newspaper, a couple of television stations, and quite a few radio stations. There were probably some reporters from Cuidad Acuna here, too. But even so, there were more newspeople outside the courthouse than anyone could account for. Stations up in San Angelo and over in Austin and San Antonio must have sent reporters down here.

  To cover one simple arraignment on manslaughter charges? That didn’t make sense to Stark. He wasn’t news.

  But evidently he was, the way those folks were acting. Stark looked down at first; he had never been the sort to seek the limelight, even when he was a star athlete. But then he realized how that must look. He had seen news footage of other suspects doing the “perp walk.” Maybe it wasn’t fair, but any time he saw people like that looking down, or even worse, trying to cover their faces, he had assumed they were guilty. So after the first couple of steps his head came up and he looked around boldly at the crowd of journalists, meeting their curious gazes squarely, a man with nothing to hide and no wrongdoing on his conscience. It was just a gesture, and admittedly a small one, but it made him feel better anyway.

  After running the gauntlet of the sensation-hungry media, Stark was led into the courthouse through a rear entrance and soon found himself in a small chamber adjacent to the courtroom where the arraignment would be held. Sam Gonzales waited for him there.

  The lawyer summoned up a smile. “Are you ready for this, John Howard?”

  “I wasn’t ready for what I saw outside,” Stark replied. “I wasn’t expecting it, anyway. What the hell’s going on, Sam?”

  “The media statewide got hold of the story of what happened yesterday. There are news crews here from San Antonio, Austin, Houston, and Dallas. With that much coverage, the story may even go nationwide.”

  “How in the world did that happen?”

  Gonzales shrugged. “I have a friend from college who works for the Associated Press.”

  “You leaked it, in other words.”

  “It’s not a matter of leaking anything. That sounds sneaky. Your arrest and this morning’s arraignment are matters of public record. I just pointed out what was going on and filled in some of the background.”

  “You mentioned Ramirez?”

  “Not by name. I just talked about powerful Mexican interests involved in the drug trade.”

  Stark shook his head. “That’s liable to just make Ramirez madder.”

  “Maybe, but the more attention that’s focused on your case, the safer you ought to be, John Howard. Now that it’s known what’s going on, he won’t dare make a move against you.”

  Sam had a much different opinion about what Ramirez would and wouldn’t dare than he did, Stark thought. Ramirez might regard all this media attention as a further insult to his pride and be all the more determined to exact a violent, public vengeance.

  On the other hand, Ramirez already wanted him dead. It couldn’t get much worse than that.

  Could it?

  “Have you seen Elaine this morning?”

  Gonzales nodded. “She’s in the courtroom, along with a couple of your friends. They were the only ones who could get in. All the other spaces are filled with journalists.”

  Stark sighed and said, “Well, let’s get this dog and pony show on the road.”

  “Unfortunately, the court operates on the judge’s timetable, not ours,” Gonzales said.

  They didn’t have to wait very long, though, before a bailiff came in and got them. They walked through a side door into the crowded courtroom that instantly got a lot noisier until Judge Harvey Goodnight, already seated at the bench, smacked his gavel a few times and loudly called for order in the court. Just like on TV, Stark thought. He was learning all kinds of things.

  He saw Elaine sitting in the front row of spectator seats, flanked by Devery and W.R. She gave him a brave smile, which he returned. They said more with their eyes, though, as a man and woman who have been married for more than thirty years can do quite easily.

  Sheriff Hammond was nowhere to be seen, Stark noticed. The bailiff read the case number, and Albert Wilfredo popped up from the table where he was sitting to go through the charges against Stark. They started with assault with a deadly weapon, proceeded through reckless endangerment and involuntary manslaughter, for the two men who had died in the wreck, to voluntary manslaughter, for the two men Stark had shot. Wilfredo concluded by asking that the suspect be held without bond, s
ince he was a flight risk and an obvious danger to the community.

  Then it was Sam Gonzales’s turn, and he asked for an immediate dismissal of the charges, a request that Judge Goodnight denied, as expected. “This is a serious matter,” the portly, bearded jurist said. “Serious enough that it ought to go to the grand jury so evidence can be heard. I’m binding over your client, counselor.” Goodnight scratched his ear. “Now what about this bail?”

  Gonzales pointed out that John Howard Stark was a lifelong member of the community, had been born and raised here, had gone to school here, married, and raised a family of his own here. “John Howard Stark is anxious to prove his innocence and clear his name, Your Honor,” Gonzales said. “He’s not going anywhere. And as for him constituting a danger to the community . . .” Gonzales paused meaningfully. “There are some who would say that John Howard Stark’s actions have provided a service to the community.”

  That comment caused quite a hubbub, of course, including an objection from Albert Wilfredo, and once again Judge Goodnight had to pound the gavel and call for order. When it was restored, he said, “Kindly refrain from editorializing, counselor.”

  “Of course, Your Honor. My apologies.”

  Goodnight looked at the district attorney. “Your objection is overruled, Mr. Wilfredo. Defense counsel’s pointed comment is being disregarded by the bench. However, I fail to find that the defendant constitutes a flight risk or a danger to the community, so I’m ordering that bail be set—”

  “The state requests bail be set in the amount of ten million dollars, Your Honor,” Wilfredo broke in.

  Goodnight glared at him, obviously not liking the fact that Wilfredo had interrupted him. He cleared his throat and went on, “As I was saying, bail will be set in the amount of five thousand dollars.” He smacked the gavel down on the bench before anybody could say anything else. “Court’s adjourned.”

  “Five thousand dollars in a case where four men died?” Wilfredo yelped anyway. Judge Goodnight ignored him, got up, and walked out of the courtroom as the bailiff bellowed for everybody to rise.