A Million Tears (The Tears Series)

by Paul Henke

  I was never more scared in my life. He was lying in a pool of blood but when I knelt beside him I saw he was still breathing. The bullet had caught him on the side of the head and though it had furrowed quite deeply there was still a chance. Meg came in, dropped her parcels and ran forward. Typically, she neither screamed nor went into hysterics but instead reached for a roll of cotton, and tried to rip it. I took it from her and used my pocket knife to cut it up. She ordered somebody to go for the doctor.

  I tried to stop the bleeding and make Sion more comfortable. I wrapped my coat around him to keep him warm and Sonny got some more cotton to use as a cover for him. Sion was ashen white and though his pulse was feeble at least it was still beating. Evan and the Marshal ran in. Evan knelt by his son, tears in his eyes. He looked at me.

  ‘Who did it?’ he asked.

  ‘Junior Roybal,’ I replied quietly. ‘Meg’s sent for the doctor. He shouldn’t be long. We heard Junior’s accomplice yelling that you were coming. Didn’t you see them?’

  ‘Yes, but they were away before we knew what was happening.’

  ‘Sonny’s killed the other two,’ said the marshal.

  Meg and Evan held hands, kneeling alongside Sion. ‘How is he, do you think?’ she asked softly.

  ‘He’s still breathing but that’s about all.’ Evan got abruptly to his feet. ‘Aren’t you going after them, marshal?’ he asked harshly.

  ‘I’m doing all I can Mr Griffiths. One of my deputies is rounding up a posse right now. We’ll go and see if we can trail them but I don’t have much hope.’ He was a slow-witted man in his fifties, ponderous in his movements and never far from the nearest saloon.

  ‘You don’t need to trail them. If you hurry you’ll probably get Roybal at his father’s ranch. If he’s left there already then you need to send wires to all the towns along the line to look out for him. That way he won’t get far.’ Evan had already thought everything through, in spite of his anxiety about Sion.

  ‘Now we ain’t exactly sure it was Junior, Mr Griffiths. After all he was wearing a mask. No one can be sure about him.’

  ‘Bullshit, marshal and you know it,’ Sonny said angrily. ‘Mr Griffiths let me tell you something about our good marshal here. He has always looked after the interests of the ranchers above those of anyone else because he’s in their pay. He won’t make a move against Roybal until he’s had time to contact him and let him come up with an alibi.’

  ‘Now Sonny, that ain’t fair,’ the marshal said angrily. ‘I look after everyone’s interests . . .’

  ‘Shit, marshal, and you know it. Mr Griffiths, remember when you had the fight with Roybal? Who did the marshal try and make trouble for? It was only because there were so many witnesses he wasn’t able to do anything. If he can cover up for Junior I bet anything you like his bank balance will receive a nice little gift over the next few months. It’s a fact, Mr Griffiths, I ain’t joshing you.’

  Evan turned his piercing blue eyes onto the marshal.

  ‘That ain’t true and I’m going to arrest you for saying them things without proof. We’ll soon see whose side I’m on and that’s the fact.’ I thought he was lying. Evan must have felt so too.

  He stepped over to the marshal, grabbed hold of his vest and when the man squawked Evan drew his gun, cocked it and shoved the barrel into the marshal’s face. ‘I don’t believe you. Say the words and deputise me, you bastard, before I pull the trigger.’

  ‘Listen,’ the marshal’s voice was a high pitched squeal. ‘Listen, you can’t do this to me. I’m the marshal. You wait with the . . .’ he suddenly stopped as Evan ground the barrel of the gun into his cheek, saying, ‘I swear by all that I hold holy that if you don’t deputise me right now I’ll shoot you and hang the consequences.’

  The marshal mumbled some words. ‘All right, you’re deputised,’ he said in a strained voice. ‘But I don’t have a badge for you to wear and you gotta have a badge.’ There was satisfaction in his voice which quickly changed to a meek protest when Evan ripped the marshal’s own badge off his vest.

  ‘Now I’ve got one.’ Evan turned to Sonny. ‘Is the buckboard outside and ready to go?’ Sonny nodded. ‘Meg love, will you be all right with the little one? I’ll be as quick as I can,’ he knelt by her side, the harshness gone from his voice.

  She nodded. ‘You’d better hurry before he gets away.’

  He stood up. Meg looked up at him, tears in her eyes. ‘Take care, Evan, and . . . and kill the swine if you have to.’

  ‘Mac, you and Frank stay with the marshal until I get back. If he tries to send word to Roybal . . .’ Evan trailed off. After all he could not, nor would he suggest they did something illegal. He didn’t need to.

  ‘Don’t worry, Mr Griffiths, he won’t,’ Mac assured Evan with a grin.

  I had helped myself to a jacket from the warehouse and when Evan ran outside I was with him. He didn’t notice me until he had the reigns in his hands and I clambered alongside him.

  ‘You aren’t coming, Uncle James. Stay and help Meg.’

  ‘Nope. I’m coming all right. Meg’s got enough help. Now drive on before we lose any more time.’

  ‘No, I . . .’ before he could say any more I leaned past him, picked up the whip and flicked it across the rumps of the two horses. They jerked into life and Evan had to concentrate on guiding them. He couldn’t argue at the same time.

  Sonny galloped past us and yelled, ‘I’ll show you a short cut, Mr Griffiths. Follow me.’

  ‘Sonny, come back here,’ Evan yelled, but to no avail. ‘Damn, I’d wondered where he’d got to.’

  We kept the pace down until we reached the edge of town. Sonny stayed a hundred yards ahead. Once we were on the country road Evan whipped up the horses and we began racing at a dangerous speed. I hung on grimly for dear life as we bounced over potholes and rocks, but I managed to find time to think about the reception we could expect at the Roybal ranch.

  24

  We were five miles out of town when Sonny pointed to his right and turned onto a narrow track. We slowed down and followed carefully. We had been going as fast as the horses could manage and now they were badly winded. Mind you, so was I from trying to hold onto that jumping, swaying, rattling buckboard. Sonny dropped back to ride by our side.

  ‘This road is much rougher than the other way, Mr Griffiths, but it’s half the distance. I figure we got a better chance of getting there faster this way because otherwise you’re just going to run them horses clear into the ground and they’ll be dead affore we gets there.’

  ‘Fine, Sonny,’ Evan was concentrating on guiding us past a big pot hole in the snow covered road. The road we had left had been virtually snow free but this one was mostly covered, though here and there patches of ground and bare rocks showed through.

  I was glad of the jacket I had picked up. If I hadn’t had it I’d have been freezing to death by now. I reached inside the coat and checked my gun was still there.

  ‘It don’t look like they came this way, Mr Griffiths. The few tracks I can see look too old to me. Maybe they went the other road.’

  ‘Or maybe they aren’t headed this way at all. Perhaps he’s not going home to his Pa,’ Evan said with bitterness.

  ‘I don’t know about that, sir, but I do know Junior.

  Knowed him most of my life, I reckon. If he’s gone anywhere it’s home, cause he knows his Pa will do the best he can to look after him. Junior’d know that without his Pa’s help he ain’t going to get away.’

  ‘Do you think he’ll try and run for it?’ asked Evan. ‘I dunno and that’s a fact. I’d say that would be Junior’s idea but the old man would cross examine him, find out the chances of bluffing it out and maybe try for that.’

  ‘Have you been out to the ranch before, Sonny?’ I enquired.

  ‘Sure, Mr Price. Why do you ask?’

  ‘I want you to describe it to me. Because in spite of what Evan thinks, we aren’t just going to bust in hoping for the best. In a couple of hours
it’ll be dark and we’re going in there nice and slow and careful.’ Evan looked at me in surprise. ‘I’m here to make sure you get back to Meg in one piece,’ I said.

  That road was certainly rough but when we rejoined the main road we had saved about nine miles. It was now fast approaching sunset.

  We still had a fair way to go and Evan whipped up the horses again, but this time kept them to a speed they could cope with.

  The moon was rising when we finally pulled up at the gates leading to the house. In the silver light I could just make out the house, the big barn, some other buildings and the hands’ bunkhouse.

  We left the buckboard and Sonny’s horse hidden in a copse of trees fifty yards from the gate. Evan had the rifle we kept in the buckboard, Sonny took his from his saddle and handed me the sawn-off shotgun along with a handful of ammunition. I felt better, holding that gun in my hands.

  The snow crunched under our feet though mostly the track was mud with deep ruts made by wagons and horses’ hooves. Our breath turned opaque in the cold as we made our way silently towards the buildings. Evan had the Marshal’s badge pinned prominently to his coat.

  I was not altogether convinced that walking straight in like this was a good idea; I would have preferred to sneak by the back entrance. But Evan argued that if Roybal was going to bluff it out he would be acting as normal as possible. If he was going to get his son away then the chances were that he had already done so. The only problem was that Roybal would be expecting the marshal who, no doubt, would have played along with him.

  We reached the first of the outbuildings and if we had been seen nobody was giving the game away. We continued to the main house. It was a one-storey rambling building with a veranda running along the front. Sonny went around to the back while we counted fifty to give him time to get into position. Evan and I stood by the front door straining to hear what was being said inside. There was an argument going on and it sounded like father and son. With a last look around Evan took hold of the door handle and turned it silently.

  The door opened with a low squeak. We stepped straight into their main room just as Sonny had described it. It was well lit with oil-filled lamps and a fire burning brightly in the grate. The two men spun round and when he saw us, Junior, with an oath, went for his gun. Which was very stupid because Evan had his rifle trained on him. Luckily for Junior the old man stopped him in time. I closed the door behind us just as Sonny came in from the kitchen.

  ‘What’s the meaning of this outrage?’ blustered Roybal. ‘I demand you leave this house immediately.’

  ‘You know something?’ said Evan in a low voice. ‘You really are the limit, Roybal. Here I am again within an inch of killing you and you’re making demands.’ Evan shook his head mockingly. ‘I’ve come to take your son in for murder. At least, God willing, it might be attempted murder. If my son is dead when I get back then I shall kill Junior with my own hands and that’s a promise.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Junior said angrily. ‘Tell him Pa. Tell him I’ve been here all afternoon. Go on Pa, tell him.’ Junior coaxed his father as Evan slowly closed the gap between them. I stepped to one side and kept my scattergun pointed at Junior’s middle. The old man was unarmed, but even so, Sonny kept him covered. Sonny moved away from the door and stood with his back to the wall. I did the same thing in case we were interrupted.

  ‘Stay away from me. I tell you I was here all afternoon. Tell him Pa, please tell him.’ He was begging now, bending slightly as though he had a pain in his stomach.

  ‘What did you say, Griffiths, about your son?’ asked Roybal in a voice so strained I thought he was about to collapse.

  ‘Your son tried to rob my warehouse today. When my youngest son accidentally came rushing in he was shot in the head.’ Evan turned his blue, contempt filled eyes onto Roybal. ‘Junior fired the shot. I understand that you protect your son, it’s a natural reaction, but this time not even you can lie for him. A small ten year old boy lying in a pool of blood, gunned down by this animal.’ Evan was now no more than the barrel length of his rifle from Junior and without warning smashed the gun across Junior’s right wrist. We heard the unmistakable crunch of bone breaking. Junior gave a scream and dropped sobbing to the floor. Roybal looked as though he was about to jump Evan, but Evan swung the rifle to point at him.

  ‘I assure you, I just want the excuse.’ Evan tapped his own chest. ‘This badge makes it legal and I don’t mind shooting you while you’re aiding your son to resist arrest.’

  ‘You’d never get away with it. It’ll be murder,’ said Roybal hoarsely.

  ‘Sonny, do you think I’ll get away with it?’ Evan asked in a calm voice.

  ‘Sure, no problem, Mr Griffiths. In fact I’ll be right glad to do it myself, now.’ Sonny aimed his rifle at Junior’s head. ‘Just say the word, Mr Griffiths.’

  ‘How,’ Roybal’s voice croaked and he cleared his throat. ‘How do you know it was my son, Griffiths?’

  ‘He was recognised by a lot of people. Furthermore,’ I said, answering for Evan, ‘the lookout he had stationed outside the warehouse called him by his name, see. Mr Roybal, it isn’t an easy thing to admit but your son might be a child killer. At best he’s hurt that little boy real bad.’

  ‘It’s not true Pa, it’s not true.’ Junior was holding his wrist, tears running down his face. ‘I didn’t do nothing like that Pa, I swear it. I lied earlier on Pa,’ Junior said desperately, seeing the contempt on his father’s face. ‘I did try to rob his place Pa, but it was only to get our own back on him for what he did to you Pa. But I didn’t shoot the boy, Pa, honest I didn’t. It was one of the others. Buck did it, Pa. It was Buck. Don’t look at me like that. I only went there for you. For what he did to you Pa, honest, Pa.’

  There were tears in old man Roybal’s eyes as he looked at his son. ‘All these years I ignored it all. I helped you all I could, made excuses because your Ma was dead. I knowed you was no good. Never have been since you was a little un. But I always put it down to high spirits, sure you’d grow up and be able to take over this ranch one day. I did all I could to teach you what I know but you were always more interested in being in town, boasting to your so-called friends, getting drunk rather than be earning a living out here with me. You cost me a fortune one way an’ another, getting you out of scrape after scrape

  – putting me in hock with favours to my friends when I persuaded them you were only joshing. Growing up was the excuse, always. Well, boy, you are growed up now and you got to take what’s coming to you.’ He looked at Evan. ‘I hate you Griffiths but I hope your boy lives and I hope he turns out as bad as my own. So you’ll know what it’s like.’

  ‘Pa, you can’t do this, Pa. Pa I’ll be good from now on. Please Pa, don’t let them take me,’ Junior sobbed.

  ‘You stupid fool,’ said his father angrily. ‘What do you expect me to do? There’s three guns pointing at me. I’m not immune to lead. Even if I did want to help you there’s nothing I can do. Now be a man, damn you, just for once. Try and walk out of here without disgracing me in front of the hands. Just for this once be a man, son. I beg you.’ It was pitiful to hear the distress in his voice.

  ‘No, Pa. You can’t. Please do something.’

  ‘I’ll get you the best lawyer I can find Junior, but that’s all. Now get up and go with these men.’

  ‘I won’t . . . I . . .’ Junior gasped in pain, Evan’s boot in his ribs cutting off the flow of words.

  ‘Get up or I’ll break your other wrist. And after that I’ll start on your legs. With both of them broken I’ll carry you to the buckboard. Get up, you little swine.’

  Awkwardly, Junior scrambled to his feet. ‘They’re going to kill me on the way Pa. I can see they are. Don’t let them Pa. Don’t let them kill me.’

  ‘I don’t intend killing him yet, Mr Roybal. I shall if I have to. And I’ll have to if my son is dead. If my son still lives, the law will deal with Junior.’ Evan prodded Junior in the back and reluctantly
he walked towards the door.

  If he hadn’t turned to beg his father one more time Roybal would have saved him.

  ‘Please Pa . . .’ was as far as he got but it made me look back at Roybal. Evan stayed facing Junior, prodding him towards the door. Sonny too, had his eyes on Junior.

  I turned in time to see Roybal lift a shotgun down from over the mantelpiece and point it at us. I lifted my scattergun, aimed it in the general direction and fired. Roybal went over backwards, guts and blood spilling everywhere. Evan whirled and crouched. Sonny threw himself down flat while Junior gave a low moan.

  There was a commotion outside, made by the hands, but suddenly it all went quiet.

  ‘Sonny, check if he’s dead,’ ordered Evan. ‘Are you okay, Uncle James?’ I nodded. ‘Fine,’ I croaked. ‘He had a gun and was going to use it, Evan.’ I felt I had to explain.

  ‘I know. It’s okay. Thanks. You probably saved our lives. Sonny?’

  ‘He’s deader than a skinned rabbit, Mr Griffiths.’

  ‘I guess in the long run he couldn’t let his boy go,’ said Evan sadly.

  Junior just stood still not saying a word.

  ‘You outside,’ Evan yelled through the door.

  ‘Who is that? Where’s Mr Roybal?’

  ‘I’m a deputy marshal sent here to take in Junior for . . . for possible child m . . . m . . . murder,’ Evan stumbled over the words, ‘a little boy. Roybal is dead. I’m coming out alone and unarmed. Will one of you men come and meet me, so we can talk?’

  ‘All right, but no tricks now. Come out nice and slow.’