by Alan Black
LillieBeth picked up the reins and led the horses up the street. Susanne followed passively. They had ridden for a long time. The short two-block walk would be refreshing.
Susanne spotted the doctor’s office and pointed. She looked across the street at the furniture store. There was a curtain pulled across the front window, so if Clayton was on display they could not see him.
She put a hand on LillieBeth to hold their progress. They stopped in the middle of the street.
There was a man standing in front of the doctor’s office under the light of a low-lit lamp. He was puffing on a hand-rolled cigar. A deputy’s badge glimmered in the light.
Susanne said, “What was that about, your beating that man back there?”
LillieBeth said, “I’ve been pawed enough without my permission. I thought he deserved a beating worse than I gave him.”
Susanne said, “But it wasn’t a very godly thing to do.”
LillieBeth said, “King David was a warrior, yet he was a man after God’s own heart. Samson was one of God’s judges, yet he killed a thousand Philistines with the jawbone of an ass. All I did was slap a stupid man up side his head.”
Susanne pointed at the deputy. “Try not to slap this one. He looks to be a little less stupid than the one at the sheriff’s office.”
LillieBeth said, “We will see how stupid he really is.” She led the way up to the man and looked up at him. He was standing on a sidewalk, but she would have had to look up anyway, since he was a tall man.
“Ladies.” He greeted them with a tip of his hat.
“We are looking for the county sheriff,” Susanne said.
The deputy said, “Shortly. He will be here shortly. Normally he isn’t up this early, but the doctor said the wounded fellow would not be able to give a statement until this morning. So, I expect he will be here before the sun gets up to see what the man has to say.”
LillieBeth said, “Can I see the wounded man?”
The deputy shook his head. “No one but the sheriff and the hurt man’s family.”
LillieBeth said, “I am his daughter, so I will go in.” She stepped up on the sidewalk and started for the door.
The deputy put a hand out and grabbed her arm. “Hold on there-”
LillieBeth interrupted by putting the rifle muzzle into the dimple of his bellybutton. “Please take your hand off me, Deputy.”
The man’s hand flew away from her as if he stuck it in a bush to catch a rabbit, but grabbed a porcupine instead. LillieBeth did not withdraw the rifle.
Susanne said, “Please, LillieBeth. This won’t get us anything, but more trouble.”
A voice behind them said, “Go ahead and shoot him, Missy. He ain’t worth much anyway. I suspect he shouldn’t have put his hands on you, anymore than that idiot back at the jailhouse.”
LillieBeth dropped the rifle muzzle, but did not turn around. She continued to stare at the deputy.
The man behind her said, “Young lady, I gather that you don’t much like to be grabbed by strangers.”
“I am LillieBeth Hazkit, sir. I do not much care to be grabbed by strangers or anyone else without my permission.”
The man said, “That sounds perfectly reasonable to me. That rifle might be a bit of an overreaction, but I wasn’t the one getting grabbed.”
Susanne said, “You are the county sheriff? Is this your deputy?”
“My deputy? Lord no. This is a city deputy.”
Susanne said, “We are sorry, Sheriff. LillieBeth and I have both been victims of men grabbing where they should not. LillieBeth’s nerves are still a bit raw about it. City deputy or not, he should not have grabbed her.”
The sheriff nodded and looked up at the man. “What are you doing hanging around here?”
“Just keeping an eye on the man what got shot,” the deputy said. “Didn’t want him running off in the night before you could question him.”
The sheriff said, “Doctor Rawlings said he wasn’t even up to question until this morning. What makes you think if he can’t talk that he would have the strength to leave? Besides, he is a victim of a shooting not a criminal who done a shooting.”
The sheriff turned to Susanne. “And who might you be?”
Susanne said, “This is Elizabeth Hazkit. She is the daughter of the man in there. His wife is in the wagon. I am Susanne Harbowe, a friend of the Hazkits.”
LillieBeth said, “Who shot my daddy and killed Clayton Grissom?”
The sheriff shook his head. “I don’t know. A stranger coming by saw the smoke and brought them into town in his wagon.”
Susanne said, “What smoke?”
The sheriff said, “Whoever shot them burned the wagon they were riding in. He brought in the team of horses, but he said there wasn’t anything else left.”
LillieBeth said, “What of the men they were escorting for trial?” She stopped looking at the deputy and glared at the county sheriff.
The man pulled a notebook from his pocket and flipped through a few pages. “Grissom called me. He said he had warrants on two men: Thomas Ransom Braunawall and Daniel Glen Braunawall. He said he had signed witness statements for a bill of indictment on murder charges of a Fletcher Marlowe Hoffman.”
Susanne was surprised. That was the first time she had heard Trance and Dangle’s real names. She had not given the idea much thought. She remembered LillieBeth trying to pronounce Elizabeth as a baby. All that came out was LillieBeth and it had stuck. She could see the boy’s nicknames coming about much the same way.
The sheriff shook his head. “I know of Hoffman. Every lawman for six counties around knows of Hoffman. The Braunawalls must be two tough galoots to take Hoffman down. Still, I also got word from Oasis that each and every one of those witness statements was retracted after Grissom got shot.”
Susanne said, “Retracted? You mean they lied and said they didn’t see what they said they already saw?”
The sheriff nodded. “Something like that. I took the phone call from the Oasis general store myself. Well, all were retracted except for some colored boy at the stable. His word wouldn’t do any good against two white boys.”
Susanne said, “But you have their written statements.”
The sheriff said, “It won’t matter, it won’t hold up in court without their testimony. Besides, the Braunawalls were not at the scene of the shooting when my only witness got there. They are certainly not in my jail and if they were I wouldn’t have anything to hold them on.”
LillieBeth said, “They shot my daddy and Sheriff Grissom.”
The sheriff shook his head. “I can’t say. I will question them if I ever run into them, but I don’t even have anything against them to go after them. Someone else may have shot up Grissom and Mr. Hazkit. The Braunawalls might be witnesses, but Grissom would not have been transporting prisoners without manacles or shackles.”
Susanne nodded. “They were trussed up the last we saw them.”
The sheriff said, “See there. How could they do any shooting all chained up?”
LillieBeth said, “We are here to take my daddy and Clayton Grissom home.”
The sheriff rubbed a rough hand across his unshaven chin and said, “Well, Merle over at the furniture store figured to charge people a dime to see the dead lawman, so he might be a bit upset. Still, you aren’t family, so I don’t suppose you have much to say about that.”
Susanne said, “Mr. Grissom’s wife Grace, is in the back of the wagon. Is that enough family to get the body released to us?”
The sheriff said, “Oh, I would have made Merle give you the body anyway. And you can haul Mr. Hazkit anywhere he wants to go once I question him about who done the shooting.”
Susanne said, “What about Mr. Grissom’s horse team?”
The sheriff pointed down the street. “About three blocks that way is a garage and stable. They are in the corral back there. You best let the stable boy know who you are, or you are likely to get shot up for stealing horses.”
Grace stood up in the back of the wagon. She shivered as if shaking off her stunned emotions. She braced her hand on the side of the wagon, but she stood tall. “I’ll get my horses. Then I will get Clayton.” She looked down and said, “Clare, you best get up. You and LillieBeth get Art.” She leaned over the front seat and grabbed her forge hammer.”
The sheriff said, “You tell the stable boy to put any charges on the county tab. Merle will be along to his shop about eight or so.”
Grace hefted the hammer and glanced across the street at the curtained windows of the furniture store. “I believe he might want to be early this morning. I plan on being on the road to take Clayton home long before eight.”
The sheriff nodded. “I don’t blame you none at all, Mrs. Grissom.” He looked at the deputy. “You still here? You better go get Merle up and moving or I suspect he will have to send all the way to Kansas City for new window glass.”
Grace vaulted to the street and walked off in the direction of the stable. The big woman did not turn to even look back while tossing the forge hammer from one hand to the other.
Susanne rushed back to the wagon and helped Clare down. She, Clare and LillieBeth walked into the doctor’s office without waiting for the sheriff to lead the way.
The sheriff called out as they tromped into the room, “Doc Rawlings? You up?”
The doctor was a short, skinny woman, with her hair chopped back away from her face as if it annoyed her. “Of course I am up. How can I sleep with a hurt man in the next room and you holding a talking contest on my front sidewalk?”
Susanne was just the light side of being shocked at seeing a female doctor. She knew they had women doctors in the big cities, but she suspected that they only dealt with female patients. A doctor in a town the size of Galena would have to see both male and female patients. It would not bother her to see a woman doctor, but she wondered what men thought.
The doctor said, “I am Doctor Caroline Rawlins, but I expect that you figured that out by now.”
Susanne said, “We are here for Art Hazkit.”
Rawlins nodded. “So I heard. Y’all were not being quiet out there. The man is back there, but he is not fit to travel on horseback.”
Clare, LillieBeth and the sheriff went to the backroom.
Susanne remained to talk to Rawlings. “How is he?”
“Shot up some, but he will be alright. I gather from some of his scars and coughing that he has been through worse. War vet?”
Susanne nodded. “He did not tell you?”
Rawlins said, “He isn’t much on talking about himself, is he?”
Susanne shook her head. “Not about the war. Did he talk any about this shooting?”
Rawlins shrugged. “I did not ask. That is a business for the law; mine is making him heal. And he won’t get better if you bounce him around on a horse getting home.”
“Can he travel by wagon?”
Rawlins nodded. “Keep him warm, make sure he doesn’t start bleeding again and he will be fine. He might need something to help with the pain, but he already refused laudanum. He said he had some once in France and did not like the way it made him feel. I gave him a glass of whiskey, medicinal only. I can only give you a tiny bit, just enough for a day or so, but if you…um…know where to get some corn liquor it might help him some when it gets rough.”
“Thank you, Doctor Rawlins.” She went into the backroom to see Art.
Art was saying. “I did not see any faces. They came at us fast. There must have been half a dozen or so men wearing hoods.”
The sheriff said, “Were they the cone hoods like the Klan or the pillowcase style of the Bald Knobbers.”
Art coughed and held his shoulder tight. “Cone.”
The sheriff said, “Well, that means either it was the Klan or someone trying to blame the Klan for the attack. The Klan is not much on daylight activities and I never heard of them attacking the law.”
LillieBeth said, “The Braunawalls said they had friends in the Klan. Maybe they were there to break them out.”
The sheriff said, “I don’t think so. It doesn’t make sense. The Klan might get witnesses to the murder to back off their story, but they would not go in for a daylight shooting of a white Christian man over the murder of another white man.”
Art said, “I did not see any faces, but I know one of the horses. It was a big Percheron cross bred with a mustang. I saw it up at the fair in Branson on Saturday afternoon.”
LillieBeth said, “Buckner. That horse belongs to Steve Buckner, a friend of the Braunawalls.”
The sheriff wrote the name in his notebook. “Steve Buckner? Well, I will have to see what he knows.”
LillieBeth said, “What he knows? He was there and helped shoot Daddy and Mr. Grissom.”
Susanne said, “No. It only means his horse was there. He may have loaned his horse to someone. He may not have done any shooting. LillieBeth, you are angry and not thinking straight.”
Art said, “Dangle shot me. Trance and him both shot Clayton. Their friends took our guns and the Braunawalls shot us with our own weapons. Clayton fell back on me and I had more of his blood on me than my own. They must have thought I was dead or they would have shot me again.”
The sheriff asked, “What kind of guns did they take?”
Art said, “Clayton had a thirty year old Colt Peacemaker. Most of the bluing was rubbed off, but he had on new rubber grips.”
The sheriff wrote that in the book. “Were there any distinguishing marks on the gun that you know of?”
Art shook his head. “No sir, except that the front sight was about half busted off. It was still there, but it was more of a jagged short nub instead of a full sized front sight.”
“And your weapon? You said you had one?”
Art said, “They took Lucy.”
Susanne looked surprised. She had not realized that there was someone else in the wagon with them.
The sheriff asked, “Lucy? Who is Lucy?”
Art looked at his wife and then back at the sheriff. “Lucy is not a who, but a what. Lucy is my trench wife.”
The sheriff said, “I am sorry, son. You lost me there.”
Art said, “Lucy is an Army model 1911 Springfield .45 caliber semi-automatic hand gun. She is just a little piece that I picked up in no man’s land in France. I ate with her, slept with her and kept her by my side ever since. She was more reliable and faithful than that piece of crap rifle the army gave me.”
The sheriff nodded. “Any marks on her to show she’s yours if’n we find her?”
Art said, “My initials are scratched on the butt plate under the grips.”
The sheriff asked, “They take anything else? Check your pockets? Steal your boots?”
Art shook his head. “Not mine. They did go through Clayton’s pockets. They took the legal paperwork he had on Trance and Dangle. Clayton only had a few dollars on him, so I guess they took that, too. They did not find anything when they checked through my pockets.”
“What about our money and the deed to our place?” Clare asked.
Art patted his crotch. “I have seen desperate men searching through dead bodies looking for food and ammunition. Men who have brutally killed in hand-to-hand combat, yet they would hesitate to feel up a dead man’s privates. I had my valuables where they did not search. I do not know where my boots are.”
Rawlins said, “In the corner. The man who brought you in had them with him.”
Art said, “Good. I spent a lot of time breaking those in and…” He started coughing and gripped his shoulder.
Clare said, “That is enough now. You need to rest up.”
Art said, “I will be fine as long as you are here with me. But, I would rather you take me home.”
It did not take long to get him from Doctor Rawlins office and into the wagon. They used all of the blankets to make a pallet for him. The doctor handed them a half-empty bottle of whiskey.
“That hooch is only for him. Sorry about his s
hirt. I had to cut if off him. Wrap him up to keep him warm.” Rawlins said. “I did not sew up the bullet holes. Let them heal from the inside out. That gives any infection a way to escape and not become bottled up inside him. It may hurt, but keep the holes, both front and back, open. Wrap a wad of clean cloth around a small, willow switch and keep the holes from scabbing over.”
Rawlins looked around the group, “Now, who is going to pay me or like most of my patients, do you want to pay me a little and pay the rest when you can?”
Art grabbed LillieBeth’s hand. He pulled a wad of cash and some papers from the front of his pants.
“LillieBeth,” he said, “you pay the bills. I thank you, Doctor Rawlins. When we leave this town I do not want to be beholden to any man…or woman.”
LillieBeth nodded, climbed down and paid Rawlins.
Rawlins asked, “Who wants the certificate on the dead man?”
Susanne glanced down the street where Grace had gone. Even if the woman was back from the stables, she was in no condition to even listen to the doctor, much less worry about the death certificate on Clayton. She reached down and took the paperwork from Doctor Rawlins.
Art said, “We will wait until the county clerk’s office is open. LillieBeth, you go in there and file our deed. Pay the man the fee and make sure you get a receipt.”
Clare said, “She can’t do that by herself, Art. And I am not leaving your side.”
Susanne said, “I’ll go with her, Clare. You take care of Art.”
Grace came back from the stables. She was riding one of Clayton’s horses and leading the other. The big woman leaned down, grabbed the reins of the wagon team and led them in a turn to stand in front of the furniture store. She tied the horses off behind the wagon, tossed her forge hammer onto the wagon seat and went to stand in front of the furniture store door. Her back was to the street, nose inches from the store’s door, fists clenching and unclenching, and her shoulders shook with sobs.
The sheriff said, “Well, folks. I am going to head back to my office. I have to send my night watchman down to see Doctor Rawlins, maybe get his face stitched up. Seems he fell out of bed or some such thing and busted his head open. Then I am going to go roust out the county clerk…” His voice trailed off as Grace turned back to the wagon.