by Mike Kearby
Cauble's expression turned ugly. Rankled, he walked quickly toward Susannah, stopping inches away from her face. "What would a whore know about anything?"
"I know that you don't know the first thing about how to treat a woman. You're not looking for love, Wes, you're searching for something that goes way back in your past…something that makes you crazy to this day. What is it, Wes?"
Cauble leaned in closer. Something sparked in her eyes. Her mouth smiled oh so thinly. Then it hit him, she had betrayed him just like his mother had done. He shouted over her arrogance, "You lay with him didn't you?" then louder, "You lay with that half-breed! That Mexican half-breed!"
Susannah winced at his foul breath. Her eyes tried to deny the accusation, but softened instead.
Cauble's nostrils flared. His chin trembled in anger. "I knew it," he screamed. "So tell me again about love, Susannah," he spat in disgust and reached for his holstered gun.
"Wes!" Turner shouted with urgency.
Cauble turned on his heels. "What?" he shouted. "Stay out of this, Bark?"
Turner exhaled through his nose and pointed north, speaking rapidly, "If Winston's dead like you figure, shouldn't we be spending our time preparing for the half-breed to ride down on us instead of all of this?"
36.
Arroyo de la Soledad, Texas,
October 1848
Carrigan stood on the east corner of the cabin mere paces from the window where Brand waited. He held the stallion on a tight rein with his right hand and grasped the Colt securely in the other hand. Angled to his left, a blindfolded Justus shifted against the rope lashing him to the cedar support post. The boy huffed noisily and his chest heaved with great effort upon each breath. Carrigan winced at the boy's discomfort and cast a glance west at the late afternoon sun. He figured the sun's heat along with the fear of not being able to see was stressing the boy to an undue degree. Looking back at the window, he walked the stallion slowly around the corner of the house, thankful that Justus's eyes were covered, as he didn't want the boy to see what was getting ready to happen. What he was preparing to unleash on the assassin inside the cabin.
Moving past the corner of the porch, he stood close to the stallion's neck and walked the animal forward two steps using the horse as a shield between him and Brand's line of fire. Gently tugging the horse to a stop, he slid right and positioned himself at the stallion's midsection. The land around the cabin suddenly hushed and Justus lifted his head at the lull. Carrigan glanced at the boy, then rested the Colt on his father's saddle and slowly pulled back the hammer.
Justus squirmed and turned his head toward Carrigan. "Who's there?" he whispered.
Carrigan ignored the boy and kept a steely stare on the window. The barrel of a pistol slid out at eye-level.
"Who's there?" Justus asked louder.
Carrigan pulled down hard on the stallion's reins. The horse snorted at the pressure.
"Huh," Brand uttered and eased his head and upper body from the shadows behind the window.
"Winston," Carrigan said calmly.
The vigilante turned toward his name. His eyes caught a glimpse of the Colt staring him in the face. He froze in panic.
"What's your play going to be, Winston?"
"Easy there, Carrigan," Brand gushed. "I'm going to raise my gun above the window and drop it out on the porch. Don't do anything foolish."
Carrigan stared at the trembling man. He remembered Brand from that morning. Yeah! Shoot that, little Mex.
Carrigan smiled, knowing. "Matters not to me, go ahead and drop your pistol. I'm still going to kill you."
Brand gasped, "What…wait…wait a second."
"Even if you drop your gun…I'll still shoot you down."
"You can't do that…blazes, Carrigan, I'm surrendering to you."
"I’m not the law, Brand. There's no surrendering today. Make your choice," Carrigan ordered. "Drop that pistol or use it. One or the other."
Brand shuddered and winced. He fumbled to aim his pistol. The gun shook uncontrollably.
Carrigan nodded at the play and squeezed the trigger. The Colt blared. The concussion echoed under the porch.
Justus winced and tucked his chin into his chest.
The bullet struck Brand in the temple. The brigade member rocked forward and rolled out of his hiding spot, dead in an instant. His body collapsed across the window, halfway in, halfway out, draped across the sill like a limp dishtowel, his eyes locked open in an undignified mask of death.
Carrigan inhaled and shoved the Colt into its holster.
"Mr. Carrigan?"
Carrigan looked at Justus and exhaled, "It's me, son. Don't worry I'll have you free in a second."
Later, Carrigan and Justus sat on the porch and gazed toward the maples near the river.
"Wes has taken Ma down there," Justus rambled on, desperate and panicked. "Down to the trees. We gotta go get her, Mr. Carrigan. We gotta go and save her."
Carrigan exhaled softly. "We can't, Justus. Leastways not yet."
Justus stiffened, shocked. "What do you mean not yet? Ma's down there!"
Carrigan swallowed and stared west. "That's exactly what Wes wants me to do."
"Ma's down there!" Justus screamed. Tears filled his eyes. "If you won't go, then I will!"
"That sun's setting fast, Justus. If I ride in all headstrong, I'm liable to get your Ma and me killed."
"I'll go with you. I ain't afraid to shoot a gun."
Carrigan loosed a thin smile. "I know you aren't, son, but I've got to go alone."
Justus jumped to his feet. He dragged a shirtsleeve across his wet cheeks mixing dirt and tears into a brownish rouge. "I swear I can help."
Carrigan rubbed his chin and looked into the boy's eyes. "I know you want to, Justus, but down there," he said and lifted his chin toward the stand of trees, "things are going to happen real quick…quicker than you could ever imagine, and if you hesitate for even a split-second, if you freeze, if I have to protect you, then your Ma might be killed."
Justus looked down and broke into a series of convulsive sobs.
"And I want you to believe me when I tell you that's not something a man can easily forget or live with."
Justus glanced up and shrugged, still sobbing. "Then what will you do to save her?"
Carrigan stood and put an arm around the boy, patting his back repeatedly. "We're going to let Wes and Turner stew a bit more."
Justus pushed away and wrinkled his brow.
Carrigan looked over the boy toward the trees. "We're going to let the both of them wonder what we're doing up here."
"I don't understand."
"The not knowing is what makes a man uneasy. It's what causes a man to make mistakes."
"You think Wes will get careless if we wait?"
Carrigan nodded, but his gaze was three hundred yards away. "The waiting and a surprise."
"A surprise?"
Carrigan looked down at Justus and smiled. "A surprise," he muttered calmly and deliberate, "a surprise from the both of us."
"The surprise will save my Ma?"
Carrigan stared at the boy and shook his head. "I don't know, Justus," he muttered then lower, added, "I don't know."
Justus turned away, fuming. "Then why should I believe anything you say, Mr. Carrigan? What do you care anyway? Maybe I should go down there by myself."
Carrigan's face flushed. He understood Justus's fearful anger and tortured frustration too well. He grasped fully what clawed at his guts back then and were churning in another eight-year-old boy's insides now. Unable to ease Justus's pain, he wrapped an arm around the boy's shoulder and whispered, "Before I ride off, I want to tell you what happened to my mother in that maple stand. I want you to know about Wes Cauble and his men. I need for you to understand why I can't let what happened to me back then, happen to you now."
Justus twisted in Carrigan's grip. His eyes narrowed, curious and nervous. "What happened to you, Mr. Carrigan?"
Carrigan cle
ared his throat, exhaled softly, and dragged his index finger along his bottom lip. "I was about your age," he began.
37.
Arroyo de la Soledad, Texas,
October 1848
Bark Turner poked a green stick into a small fire. The cool October night held a hint of an early morning frost. "He's not coming tonight, Wes," the deputy offered.
"Damn," Cauble growled, pacing behind Turner. "What's he doing up there?"
Turner glanced over at an exhausted and shivering Susannah. "I don't know, but we best get as much shut-eye as we can tonight. I reckon the breed wants us a might unsettled before he rides in for his showdown."
"Maybe we'll just ride up there and surprise him," Cauble grinned, contemplating the thought. "See how he likes it."
"Nah," Turner looked at his boss. "He's sitting inside that cabin, waiting for just such a move."
Cauble kicked a toe full of dirt into the air. "You take the first watch," he barked, fuming.
Turner nodded and then looked over to Susannah once more. "What about her?"
"What about her?" Turner asked. The growing agitation in his voice was obvious.
"You might want her close to you."
Cauble frowned, unsympathetic to the suggestion.
"If the breed does happen to ride in here tonight, you might want Susannah as a shield."
Cauble smiled. "Might make him think twice about flashing those Colts."
Turner removed the stick from the energized fire and looked up at Susannah. "Just might."
Cauble thought for several seconds and then moved to Susannah's side. "I'm going to give you a gift tonight," he said with a crazy grin and then loosened the noose from her neck.
Susannah turned her head in Cauble's direction and regarded her husband with disdain.
Cauble grabbed her roughly by the forearm and pulled her toward the fire. "Tonight you'll be sleeping with me."
Turner stood and walked away giving his back on the pair.
"And, Bark," Cauble muttered. "You stay alert, you hear?"
Turner didn't answer.
"Because tomorrow, bright and early, we're going to give the half-breed a little surprise to chew over."
38.
Arroyo de la Soledad, Texas,
October 1848
A light frost covered the ground nearest the river. Cauble, awake for hours, stood above a bed of orange coals and waited for fresh laid maple tinder to catch. Preoccupied with the half-breed's play, the brigade leader looked east. A quick-rising sun rushed above the horizon.
"Tie her tight," he called out to Turner. "No mistakes now."
Turner set a length of rope across his mare's flank and moved around the horse's hindquarters.
"He's coming this morning. I can smell him," Cauble said. His voice, crisp and deliberate, held no doubt or craziness.
Turner smiled and tied the rope to Susannah's right ankle and then reached up and gathered the end of a second rope secured around her neck. He quickly tied the two ropes together. "This what you had in mind?" he asked proudly.
Cauble turned and whistled at Turner's handiwork. Susannah sat atop the deputy's horse gagged and bound. The brigade leader lips opened slightly. His only comment a scornful smile.
Turner stepped toward the horse's flank and pulled up on the rope. The movement lifted Susannah's bound ankles.
Cauble smiled contemptuously. "The half-breed is gonna enjoy this," he laughed and then added, "How you doing up there, Susannah?"
Turner released the rope and walked toward the fire.
"Get into position, Bark, and keep that eyeglass on the prairie south of the cabin. I want to know when he rides this way."
Turner walked quickly for the cover of a large maple trunk.
Cauble strolled toward the mare and pulled the reins from over the animal's neck. "Once this mare runs, there won't be any saving you," he spoke without looking up at his wife. "The noose will choke you from above, and the weight of your legs will choke you from below."
Susannah struggled against her gag, her actions desperate and fearful, her voice muffled and unintelligible.
Cauble glanced up. "Two ways to die, two paths to hell, a proper end for a whore, wouldn't you say?"
Susannah's eyes filled with a hate-filled glare.
"Your boyfriend is going to have a difficult decision to make."
Susannah's expression turned to hard realization.
"Drop his Colts and cut you free or shoot it out with us and let you hang there, choking."
Susannah smothered on strangled sobs.
"What do you think the breed's gonna do, Bark?"
Turner shrugged. "I imagine save the woman, what else could he do?"
Cauble wrapped the mare's reins loose around his left hand and shook his head in mock sympathy. "Well, we know he's not partial to hangings. I would imagine he's not partial to dying either."
Turner nodded but kept his focus north on the prairie leading from the cabin.
Cauble patted Susannah's leg and shook his head. "Life or death. Now that is one mighty big decision for any man to have to make."
39.
Arroyo de la Soledad, Texas,
October 1848
Carrigan put a foot in the stirrup and stepped up into his father's saddle.
"If I stay as you want, Mr. Carrigan, do you promise you'll bring her back unharmed?"
Carrigan stared down at Justus, unsure as how to answer. "I'll try my best, Justus."
The boy reeled. "But you gotta promise…I want your promise!"
Carrigan swallowed hard and scratched the back of his neck.
Tears welled in Justus's eyes. "You promise, now!" he demanded. "Promise Wes won't hurt her like he did your Ma."
Carrigan took a long gaze at the boy.
"Promise, I won't grow up alone like you had to!"
A rush of emotion inflamed and tortured Carrigan. Susannah was one more woman, mother and wife whose life rested in Wes Cauble's hands. A cloud of sadness overwhelmed him. He glanced away, powerless to make the promise, unable to state the words the boy so needed to hear. "Justus, I won't lie to you…"
"You promise! You promise me!" Justus yelled, hysterical.
"I can't, son. I won't do it."
Justus became enraged. "Yes, promise!" he shouted with raised fists. "Promise!"
Carrigan swallowed and uttered in a low voice, "Here's what I'll promise you, I promise I'll die trying."
Justus sobbed uncontrollably. He leaned in close to the stallion and beat his fists on Carrigan's leg.
Carrigan reached down and stroked the top of the boy's head.
Justus sobbed, "I want you both to come back."
Carrigan turned back a tear. "I want that too," he allowed. "But regardless of what happens, regardless of how awful you think the conclusion is…I want you to remember this…"
Justus looked up through tear-glazed eyes.
"I want you to know that I see a good man in you, a man who can go out in the world and make a big mark."
Justus wiped his eyes, watching, listening.
"That's what I see, Justus."
"What am I going to do, Mr. Carrigan?"
"Something big, Justus, I see it."
"You mean it?"
Carrigan nodded and bit down on his lower lip. "But there's one more thing, son…"
"What?"
"Don't wait forever. When you hear the gunfire, you count two hundred, and if you don't see me or your ma coming out of those trees, then you take Johnny Matthew's horse and ride out of here."
"Where do I go?"
"Cross the river and keep moving west until you find people."
"But what about you and Ma? How will I know?"
Carrigan's face turned dead serious. "No more crying, Justus," he muttered. The words rumbled deep in his throat like gravel. His eyes turned a dark green. "Listen to me. You go west until you find people. No matter what, remember my story and don't you dare allow whatever might happ
en this morning to change your life, like I let it change mine."
Justus lowered his head. "But, I don't want to be alone," he choked.
"You'll be just fine, Justus. Big things, remember?"
Justus lifted his chin and allowed a tight smile. "I'll remember."
Carrigan reached inside his pocket and pinned the deputy's badge from so long ago onto his own shirt. Looking down at Justus once more, he smiled. Then he turned a spur into the stallion's ribs and the animal started west. His plan was to cross the river and ride in behind Cauble and Brand. He slacked off the rein and allowed the stallion to run. The horse lowered his head and began a smooth gallop. "Good boy," Carrigan said and tightened his grip on a lead line secured to Winston Brand's horse. In the saddle, a propped-up dead deputy bounced unceremoniously with each step, secured to the biscuit with several wraps of rope.
Justus watched Carrigan and the stallion disappear off the horizon. Carrigan's story raced around his head. He couldn't shake the image of Carrigan's mother being murdered right in front of him. The thought of death… and the accompanying nothingness paralyzed him.
What would I do? He wondered.
Am I brave enough to ride with bandits like Mr. Carrigan?
Could I become a man overnight?
His mother's face suddenly materialized in his mind and intruded upon his pondering. "Ma!" he choked on her name, then softer, "Ma."
Then he knew what he had to do.
Without another moment's thought, he ran south for the oak and maple stand. "Sorry, Mr. Carrigan" he apologized aloud, "but I won't sit back here and count two hundred. Not with Ma done there with Wes. I just can't."
40.
Arroyo de la Soledad, Texas,
October 1848
The horse and rider stampeded through Cauble's camp unleashing a maelstrom of confusion and surprise.