by Walton Young
‘I must go.’
‘Silas is right,’ Charlotte said. ‘You should stay here. There’s nothing you can do right now. Besides, there’s Bobby.’
‘There’ll probably be a whole lot of talking, a whole lot of cursing that a young lady should not hear,’ Silas said. ‘When they let out all their steam, they’ll be tired. Swearingen will most likely listen to reason and he’ll go back home. Then you can go into town. Invite Doctor Tisdale for supper. I’m sure Charlotte is planning one of her delicious meals. We can sit around the table and laugh about how worried we all were for no reason.’
Jennifer went to the back door and saw Bobby. He was crouched on a lower tree branch next to the trunk. He held a long piece of wood that Silas had helped him carve into the shape of a rifle. It didn’t look much like a rifle, but for Bobby it was close enough. He balanced on the branch and aimed the rifle and shouted, ‘Bang!’ He lowered the rifle and inspected the terrain. Apparently more bad guys were approaching. Quickly he raised the rifle and fired several shots and Jennifer turned away.
She went into her bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. The curtains blocked the dying sunlight. She bowed her head and prayed.
Marcus ran to the jail. Ezra and Owen knew immediately that Swearingen was in town. Stuart wiped the sweat from his face with a red bandana. He felt faint. He wanted to get some fresh air.
‘How many are there?’ Ezra asked.
‘There’s Swearingen and six others. I was talking with Eloise when they rode into town. She said one of the men is the foreman, a man named Rayburn.’
Luke left the cell block and joined them.
‘I can’t believe I’ve slept all afternoon.’
‘What’s Andrew doing?’ Stuart asked.
‘He’s just sitting on his cot, staring at the floor. I spoke to him, but he didn’t say anything. I don’t believe he even heard me.’
‘His old man has just ridden into town,’ Ezra said. ‘We’re going to have a little talk with him – out in the street. You stay here.’
‘You may have to patch up a few folks when this is all over,’ Owen said. ‘I just hope it’s not any of us.’
Ezra handed the twelve-gauge shotgun to Marcus.
‘Do you still want to come with us?’
Marcus took the shotgun.
‘Put these extra shells in your coat pocket,’ Ezra said.
The front door swung open and Curly Pike walked in.
‘Curly, what are you doing here?’ Stuart asked.
‘I thought you might need some help. I’m pretty good with a gun. I ain’t an expert like you gents, but I do all right.’
Stuart looked at Ezra.
‘Your employer may not appreciate you taking shots at him,’ Ezra said.
‘He ain’t my employer no more. He has hired guns. They’re good. They mean business.’
‘I don’t understand why you want to help us,’ Stuart said.
‘A man like Swearingen has gotta be stopped. There’s been too much bloodshed already. I want law and order as much as the next man. If you have another gun, maybe him and his men will back down.’
‘We’re trying to avoid bloodshed. All right. You can stand with us. Just don’t do anything foolish. It’s getting as crowded in here as the church on Sunday.’
‘Well, this is where all the lost souls congregate,’ Owen said.
Ezra kept his eye on Curly. Something about him seemed a bit strange. There was something not quite right, and he didn’t know what it was. Ezra walked onto the sidewalk and looked up the street. Swearingen marched past the newspaper office. Rayburn and Treutlin and four others followed. Their stride was firm, confident. He went back inside.
‘They’re here,’ Ezra said.
Each man looked at Stuart. Well, this is what the town is paying me to do, he said to himself. He took one quick glance at the empty chair behind the desk. He wanted to see Harrison sitting there.
‘I’ll go first,’ Stuart said.
Stuart took a deep breath and led the men through the door. One by one they stepped into the street, into the pale sunlight of the late Wyoming afternoon. It had been a long time since Marcus walked the fields alongside the Etowah River near Kingston and hunted quail, a long time since he last held a shotgun. It felt heavy, heavier than he remembered. The extra shells bulged in his coat pocket.
On either side of Stuart walked Ezra and Owen. Next to Owen was Marcus. Next to Ezra was Curly. The street was deserted. At the front window of the jail Luke stood. His heart was racing.
‘Is anybody out there?’ Andrew called.
‘Yes, I’m here. Luke Tisdale.’
‘Doctor Tisdale, please come here.’
Luke went to the cell. Andrew clutched the bars of the cell door.
‘Let me go talk to my father.’
‘I think it best if we let the sheriff handle things.’
‘Zeke doesn’t know him. Men are going to die. Please let me try to put a stop to it. I’ve already got enough blood on my hands. Please, Doctor Tisdale, let me try.’
Luke did not know what to do. Andrew seemed sincere enough. In fact, he looked desperate. He gripped the bars so tightly that his knuckles were white. Luke was certain Ezra would tell him to keep Andrew in the cell, but perhaps Andrew could do some good. Perhaps it would be worth a try. Luke hurried to the sheriff’s desk and opened each drawer until he found the key. Then he unlocked the cell door.
The two groups of men stopped about twenty feet from each other. Suddenly Benjamin Payne was in the middle of the street. He had walked from his haberdashery. He looked first at Stuart, then at Swearingen.
‘Gentlemen.’
He expected an immediate response, but there was only silence. It was almost as if they did not see him.
‘Gentlemen.’
‘This is no time for speech making,’ Swearingen said.
Payne was nervous. He had to say something to stop what he was certain was about to happen. They don’t want to listen, he thought. They’ve gone mad, all of them.
‘I’m not going to make a speech.’
‘Then get out of the way.’
‘I’m not going to make a speech, but I do have something to say. Gentlemen, think about what you’re doing to our town. Think about the image we have cultivated. Think about what you’re doing to it. We want more business to come here. In a few minutes the street lights are going to shine. Electric street lights. That’s the kind of town we live in. The days of gunfights in the streets are over.’
‘I thought you said you weren’t going to make a speech,’ Rayburn said.
‘You men are trying to turn back the clock. You can’t do that. You’ve got to look to the future. These street lights are just the beginning of what is to come. Bloodshed will put an abrupt stop to progress. Investors will not want to put their money in a place where men are shot down in the middle of the street. Surely, Mr Swearingen, you can appreciate what I’m saying.’
‘What I can appreciate, Mr Mayor, is you going back to where you came from, unless you want that derby filled full of holes.’
Payne turned from Swearingen to Stuart. Then he looked at each man standing next to Stuart. He wondered why Curly Pike was here. Payne walked up to Stuart and spoke almost in a whisper.
‘Zeke, don’t let this escalate to violence.’
‘I’m going to keep the peace. That’s my job. That’s the job you gave me last night.’
Payne looked at Ezra.
‘Mr McPherson, please put a stop to this. If anyone can put a stop to this madness, you can. I know you can. Zeke will listen to you.’
‘Zeke is going to keep the peace, just like he said. Sometimes it takes a little killing to keep the peace.’
‘Well, damn, McPherson, I like your choice of words,’ Rayburn said. ‘That’s pretty eloquent for a coward from Missouri.’
‘Rayburn, you shouldn’t talk to Mr McPherson like that,’ Treutlin said. ‘Mr McPherson, I consider it an honor to sta
nd here in the street facing you. I mean, you’re something of a legend. Any man who rode with Jesse James and lived to tell about it has to be considered a legend. Rayburn has told me all about your heroic exploits with the James gang. When I encountered you at night on Mr Swearingen’s land, you took advantage of the darkness and held a gun on me. That was not kindly. Now you’re not going to have such an advantage. Still, I consider it an honor to face you. I consider it an honor to kill you.’
McPherson, Swearingen thought. At night. On my land. I know what you’re doing, McPherson. You may think I don’t, but I do. And it ends now.
Payne stepped back and looked at both groups of men, at the revolvers clinging to their sides, at the shotgun in Marcus’s hands. They won’t listen, he thought. No matter what I say, they won’t hear a word. He returned to his store and closed the door.
‘I’ve come to get my son,’ Swearingen said. ‘You have no right to keep him.’
‘He has turned himself in,’ Stuart said. ‘He says he had a hand in the lynching of the Darton boy. He has confessed to a crime. It’s up to Judge Henry and a jury to decide whether he goes free. The judge is out of town. I can’t do anything till he gets back. That’s the law, Mr Swearingen.’
‘You young pup,’ Swearingen said, ‘don’t quote the law to me. I know more law than you’ll ever hope to know.’
‘That may be true, Mr Swearingen, but Andrew stays put.’
‘McPherson, talk some sense into him,’ Swearingen said. ‘For once, I agree with Payne. You can put a stop to this. Nobody has to die. You and I have seen our share of killing. We’ve seen too much of it. Neither one of us wants to see more, but it’s about to come to that. So talk to him.’
‘Zeke is the sheriff,’ Ezra said. ‘If he says Andrew is not going anywhere, then Andrew is not going anywhere. You and your men need to get back on your horses and ride out of here. Let the law handle this.’
‘You’re a fine one to talk about the law,’ Rayburn said. ‘A man who rode with Jesse James. How many trains have you robbed? How many banks have you held up? How many men have you killed? Of course, you did most of your killing before you turned coward and walked away from James.’
‘That’s enough, Rayburn,’ Swearingen said. ‘Look, Sheriff, consider who you’ve got standing beside you. Yeah, McPherson knows what he’s doing. But what about that Pinkerton? He’s just an old man.’
‘This old man still knows how to fire a revolver,’ Owen said.
‘Maybe. And then there’s a newspaper reporter. What does he know about gunfights? I don’t think they have too many of them in Atlanta. Is he someone you want facing my men? And then there’s Curly Pike. I don’t know what the hell he’s doing here. But if he has betrayed me, what makes you think he won’t betray you? Once the shooting starts, he’ll turn tail and run. I’ve seen men like him. I saw them at Gettysburg.’
Stuart’s right hand trembled. He looked at each man facing him. Each man a gunfighter. Each man a killer.
‘What you say may be true,’ Stuart said. ‘You may kill me, but I have to stand up for the law.’
‘The town isn’t paying you enough to stand here and get killed,’ Swearingen said.
‘It’s not about money.’
The front door of the jail banged shut, but Ezra did not take his eyes off the men standing n front of him. Suddenly Andrew stood next to Curly. Luke was behind him.
‘Son, are you all right?’ Swearingen asked.
‘Yes, Father, I’m fine.’
‘Luke, why did you bring him out here?’ Ezra asked.
‘I need to talk to my father,’ Andrew said. ‘Please, Father, don’t do this. I feel I have to pay. That Darton boy didn’t do anything wrong. I should have stopped what happened. I’ve got to pay for it. Please understand.’
‘No, son, I don’t understand. You’re a Swearingen. You have no business being in jail. You’re just a little confused, that’s all. Come on back to the ranch. Once you’re back home for a few days, you’ll be all right. You’ll forget about all this.’
‘No. For once I’m not confused. I know what I have to do.’
‘Yeah, I know what he’s going to do,’ Curly said.
Ezra glanced quickly at Curly.
‘Curly, keep your mouth shut. Let Zeke handle this.’
‘I’m the only one who knows what Andrew’s going to do,’ Curly said.
‘Curly, what are you talking about?’ Andrew asked.
‘Curly Pike, I’ve never thought you had an ounce of sense,’ Swearingen said. ‘You’re confirming all my suspicions.’
‘Crazy, am I? You won’t think I’m so crazy when Andrew stands in a courtroom and tells the whole world what he knows. Rayburn is the one who gunned down John Tisdale. Not only that, but—’
‘Pike, you lyin’ bastard!’ Rayburn said, and he reached for his pistol.
‘Rayburn, no!’ Swearingen said.
Swearingen grabbed Rayburn’s arm, but the foreman shook free and swung the pistol at Swearingen’s head and knocked the big man to the ground.
Chapter Sixteen
Charlotte prepared supper in the kitchen. Fried chicken, her specialty. Jennifer set plates on the table. She kept looking at the front door, as if expecting Luke to walk in at any moment. Perhaps he would say that everything was all right. Everything had been worked out. No violence would occur, so she could rest easy. The clock on the mantel ticked, and the ticking had never seemed so loud.
‘Charlotte, I’m scared.’
‘Honey, it’s going to be all right,’ Charlotte said as she turned the chicken over in the skillet.
The chicken popped, and some of the grease landed on Charlotte’s wrist.
‘Ouch! I need to be more careful.’
The popping of the chicken was loud, but not as loud as the ticking of the clock. Jennifer almost dropped a plate. The ticking reverberated in her ears. She was thankful that Bobby was inside. He sat on the sofa and thumbed through another McGuffey Reader that Silas had brought home from the store. Silas turned the pages of the newspaper.
Pistol shots came quickly. Jennifer threw off her apron. She did not hear glass shattering, wood splintering, men moaning. All she heard were the shots.
‘I have to go. Please look after Bobby.’
‘Jennifer, please stay here—’ Charlotte said.
‘It’s too dangerous!’ Silas said, and he stood but did not attempt to block her. ‘Don’t go. Please! Don’t go.’
‘Ma, what’s wrong?’
‘I’ll be back, Bobby. You do what your aunt and uncle say. Be a good boy.’
She ran into the late afternoon heat. Neighbors came onto their porches and looked up the street. Something bad was happening. They knew that, and they wondered what this woman from Charleston, this woman they hardly knew, this woman who had found shelter for her and her son in the home of her sister, was doing. They wanted to shout, to tell her to go back, but her feet moved too fast, and then she was gone.
The shots grew louder and she tried to run faster, to will her feet to move more quickly in the dust. She pulled her long cotton dress higher, yet she tripped on it. A horse thundered past. Ginevra Swearingen said nothing. She leaned forward in the saddle and went around the corner. And then the gunshots stopped.
Please, Lord, please let Luke be all right. Please, Lord, don’t take him. I’m begging you, dear Lord. Please let him be all right.
She passed the red and white barber pole at the corner and stopped. One man she had never seen before ran past her. She would always remember the terror in his eyes. Close behind him was a man she would later learn was Curly Pike. He almost ran into her. He stumbled and fell. A bag of some sort fell onto the street, and he reached for it. He looked up at her, grabbed the bag, and ran.
Ginevra leaped from the saddle and ran to a man lying on the ground. Jennifer raised a hand to her eyes to shield the sun. Where was Luke? A man leaned against a hitching post. He held a pistol. A wounded animal, she thought. That�
�s what he looks like. Later she would be told the man’s name was Treutlin, one of Swearingen’s hired guns. She saw Marcus Stokesbury with a double-barrel shotgun. Treutlin lifted his pistol. Even as far away as she stood, she could see that his hand shook.
‘Don’t make me kill you,’ Marcus said.
Jennifer saw Ezra. He was loading his pistol.
‘Stokesbury, kill the son of a bitch!’ Owen said.
Owen was on his knees, clutching his left shoulder. Treutlin raised the pistol higher.
‘Please, drop the gun!’ Marcus said. ‘Don’t make me kill you!’
Treutlin did not drop the pistol. Marcus squeezed one trigger. The force of the blast blew Treutlin away from the hitching post.
And then she saw Luke. He knelt beside Owen, and she ran to him.
Suddenly she felt someone’s arm encircle her. The grip was tight, fierce.
‘Not so fast, young lady. Where the hell you think you’re going?’
‘Jennifer!’ Luke called.
She looked down at the arm and saw the blood. Ezra walked toward them. He came slowly. He held a pistol alongside his leg.
‘Don’t come any closer, McPherson,’ the man said. ‘I’ll kill her.’
‘Just like you killed John Tisdale.’
‘I didn’t kill him. Curly Pike was lying. I swear.’
‘Just like you killed Harrison.’
‘I didn’t kill him. Why should I kill either one of them? But I’ll kill her. You better believe me. You know I will. I’ll kill her. I’m riding out of here.’
‘Rayburn, you’re not riding anywhere. Let the girl go.’
‘Drop your pistol, McPherson. Drop it and I’ll let her go.’
For what seemed like an eternity to Jennifer, no one spoke. Ezra and Rayburn seemed frozen. Then slowly Ezra, never taking his eyes off Rayburn, lay his Colt on the street. The grip around Jennifer’s waist loosened, and she ran to Luke.
‘You won’t get far with that bullet hole in your side,’ Ezra said.