The Deer Run Trail

by David R Lewis

  This woman was sayin’ somethin’ like she didn’t have no five dollars ‘cause her monthlies had been terrible bad an’ kept her from workin’. Then, this man’s voice threatened her an’ called her all kinds a foul names an’ such. She protested some that she had to eat an’ two dollars was all she had. There was a smack sound, an’ she hollerd an’ commenced to cry. That smack noise come agin’ a couple a times, an’ she said he’d had his free poke an’ if he hurt her she wouldn’t be able to work this week either. He laughed then an’ I heard a heavy thump sound. The door opened an’ a blue vest stepped out, shakin’ some change in his hand while he come walkin’ in my direction.

  I was mad at that fella for the way he done that whore an’ for the way the sheriff an’ his boys run the town. I guess that’s what made me take action. I eased myself down behind a rain barrel so he wouldn’t see me there in the dark. As he passed where I was lurkin’, I slipped my chisel mallet from my work belt, stepped out behind him, an’ smacked him low down near where his skull joined his neck. He never made a sound, just folded up an’ pitched over halfway through a step.

  I took the money from his hand an’ checked his pockets. He had a poke in his shirt that had near forty dollars in it. I put the change from his hand in that poke, added a twenty dollar gold piece, dropped his pistol in the rain barrel, an’ went to the woman’s door. When I put the poke on her stoop I could hear her cryin’ inside. I knocked on the door an’ the cryin’ stopped.

  “Ma’m,” I said, “there’s some help for you on the stoop. I was you, I’d figger a way to move on purty quick.”

  I walked by the blue vest then, on my way to Clary’s, an’ he hadn’t moved a muscle. I admit to bein’ some fearful that maybe I’d kilt him but not so much that thinkin’ about it kept me awake overlong.

  The next day I was workin’ back at the school, smoothin’ out them two by twelves with scrapers, when Charlie come by.

  “Yer workin’ on yer own time, ya know,” he said to me. “Looks good, Rube.”

  I thanked him an’ tolt him I thought that counter top would be ready to wax by the end of the day.

  “Hear the news?” he asked me.

  I shook my head.

  “Had a killin’ last night.”

  “What?” I said, my mouth goin’ a little dry.

  “Yessir,” he said. “In a alley back behind the Red Bird saloon. Found one a them deputies layin’ out there this mornin’. Face down with a butcher knife stickin’ outa his back, no gun in his holster and no money in his pockets. They questioned a whore that lives back that way, but she claimed she’s been sick and hadn’t heard nothin’. End a the week an all, I reckon he’d been out collectin’ an somebody come up behind him, stuck him, and stole the money.”

  “I’ll be dammed,” I said.

  “I ain’t sheddin’ no tears,” Charlie said, an’ walked off.

  I had to set down an’ think that one over for a spell. Didn’t take no genius to figger out what happened. At least I hadn’t killed him. She’d probably git away with it, if she didn’t git too free with that money. Who’d think some little woman would even try to take down a full-growed an’ armed deputy sheriff? It come to me then that she hadn’t kilt him neither. His conduct had kilt him. She had just been the instrument of a death that he had brung on hisself. Thinkin’ about it that way made my part in it seem almost noble.

  Almost.

  CHAPTER NINE

  They was a lotta hell raised about the dead deputy. The high sheriff an’ his boys stomped around town like they was killin’ ants, glarin’ at everbody an’ actin’ tough. A funeral was held on Wednesday an’ townsfolk was encouraged to attend. I went just to look things over. Musta been two or three hunnerd people show up. The mayor, a pale man of slight build name a Eustice Forbes talked for a minute about the loss to the community. Sheriff Yont took over, praisin’ the memory a Calib Rooter, goin’ on about what a fine young man he was, swearin’ eternal damnation on the rotten scum that laid the poor fella low. Yont liked talkin’ to a crowd. He puffed up an’ thundered for a spell, then give it to the preacher. That preacher couldn’t hold a candle to Arberry’s toney way of speakin’, so things broke up purty quick. The crowd scattered in a hurry. Nobody seemed set on groanin’, moanin’ an’ weepin’ over the box. I stayed near the back an’ kept from grinnin’, then hustled off when the preacher give up.

  Nobody was workin’ ‘cause of the funeral, so I rode back to town an’ headed for the Sweewater Café to git a bite. I et at the Sweetwater two or three times a week. Standin’ in front of the place was a big ol’ blue roan with a long head. Warn’t nobody around with a horse looked like that but Marshal Marion Daniels. I tied up the buckskin an’ went in, real casual like. He was settin’ at a side table where he could see out the winda an’ keep a wall behind him. I ignored him an’ walked on to the back a couple a tables away where I usually set, shifted that knife that Arliss give me out of the way, an’ pulled out a chair. I usually didn’t wear no gun on workdays. Funeral days neither, I reckon.

  Warn’t no time ‘til this little blond waitress named Margie came smilin’ back to me. She was a purty little thing with blue eyes, a dimple on her left cheek, an’ hair leanin’ toward yella. Always hurried to see me an’ had a big smile on her face. I’d usually tip her four bits on a two-bit meal. Now an’ then, I thought about askin’ her to go for a walk with me or somethin’, but I never was sure if she was smilin’ at me or ‘cause a that tip she thought she’d git.

  “Hi, Rube,” she said, tickled to death I’d come in. “We got ham n’ beans and cornbread today, or boiled chicken and dumplins with turnip greens and okra.”

  “I can’t bear okra,” I said. “Can I trade it for some cornbread?”

  “All you want,” she said.

  “Much obliged, Miss Margie,” I tolt her. “I appreciate you doin’ for me.”

  “I was down by that new schoolhouse the other evening, helping my old momma on her walk,” she said. “I looked inside. You do that work, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I do,” I admitted to her.

  “Well it looks real nice. You should be proud of it.”

  “Thank you,” I said, an’ throwed my loop. “Margie, you think you might ever wanna take a little walk with me sometime, or maybe a buggy ride up along the river or somethin’?”

  “Why Ruben Beeler,” she said, surprised like, “are you askin’ to keep company with me?”

  My ears got hot right then. “Uh,” I said, “I thought a walk or somethin’ after you get off work some evenin’ might be nice.”

  “I’ll think about it while I get your chicken,” she said, an’ sashayed away.

  I set where I was an’ tried to git my breath.

  When she come back agin’, Margie had two plates. She set one in front of me, an’ hustled over to give the other one to Marion. He had a little smile on his face an’ give me a sly wink afore he turned his attention to his ham n’ beans.

  Marion finished eatin’ afore I did. He took a piece a paper an’ a pencil out of his pocket an’ scribbled somethin’. Then tossed some change on the table an’ stood up. Warn’t nobody lookin’ his way an’ he kindly flipped that paper at me from behind his back. It come at me fast an’ I throwed a hand up in front of my face an’ caught it. It come so fast ‘cause it was wrapped around a five dollar gold piece. I opened it up an’ read it. It said “two miles south at the fork after dark.” Then there was a line that read “you owe me five dollars.” At the bottom was two more words. “Nice Hat.”

  When I finished eatin’, Margie come over to git my plate an’ the money an’ her tip. She smiled at me an’ that dimple showed up.

  “Tonight would be nice for a walk, Ruben,” she said. “Tonight would be just fine. You could come by here around nine, if you wanted to.”

  “Miss Margie,” I said, “I just can’t make it tonight. I got somethin’ else I got to do. Some other night?”

  See looked at me for a second,
kindly harsh. “Maybe,” she said, an’ walked away.

  Damn.

  Along toward dusk I walked down to the livery an’ caught up the buckskin. He tossed his head at me some an’ hopped around a little bit when I put the blanket on him. “Willie,” I said, “I know I been neglectin’ ya an’ I’m sorry.” I give him a chunk a carrot I swiped outa Miz Clary’s kitchen an’ he munched on that while I throwed the saddle on him. He swole up against the cinch a little, but let it go purty quick. There just warn’t no meaness in that little horse.

  He bounced around some when I got on him but fell into that shufflin’ easy trot a his at a touch. I was passin’ by the front of the Clarke’s house when a voice spoke up.

  “A little late for you to be out by yourself, isn’t it Ruben?”

  I looked up on the porch about fifty feet away an’ seen Verlon’s daughter settin’ in the swing.

  “It is, Miss Harmony,” I said. “It’s gittin’ dark. Kindly scary to be all by my lonesome.”

  “You gonna be able to bear up under it?” she asked. I could hear her grin.

  “I’ll be okay tonight, I reckon,” I said. “But who knows about tomorrow or the next night?”

  “If it gets to be too lonely for you, you might mention it,” she said, standin’ up. “Could be some way I might be of help to you. Goodnight, Ruben. Be careful out there in the night.”

  I watched her walk inside. There warn’t nothin’ I could git myself to say.

  Good Lord.

  There warn’t a lot of moon. It was full night when I come on the fork. Marion’s voice come at me outa the dark.

  “That cute little thing likes her tips, don’t she?” he said.

  “You git me out here to tell me that?” I asked him.

  “Now doan git nasty with me, Ruben,” he said. “I mess up your plans for the evening or somethin’?”

  “Little bit,” I said.

  “I’m camped about a mile from here,” he said. “Brung ya some peaches. C’mon.”

  The skeeters was kindly bad, but a breeze kicked up a little an’ blowed ‘em away. I squatted on my slicker to keep the chiggers off an’ started in on them peaches while we set by his fire. Marion mentioned he was in town about the deputy gittin’ killed.

  “I’m purty sure I know who killed him,” I said.

  “Ya do?”

  “Yessir,” I said. “Me partly.”

  Marion kindly give a jerk. “You?” he said.

  “I hit him with my chisel mallet an’ knocked him out, but I think it was a whore that stuck that butcher knife in him.”

  “You knocked him out?”

  “I believe so,” I said. “I smacked him an’ he went down. I might a kilt him with that mallet. I doan know for sure, but I’d bet anythin’ that whore stuck him.”

  Marion took his hat off an’ put it right back on. “From the beginning please, Ruben,” he said.

  “Yessir,” I said, an’ begun the story.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “Them ain’t taxes on the folks and businesses in town, Ruben,” Marion said. “That’s extortion, an’ it’s agin’ the law.”

  “What’s extortion?” I asked.

  “Extortion is when a business has gotta pay somebody so their windas doan get busted or their building doan catch fire.”

  “Ain’t that what insurance is?” I said.

  “No. Insurance pays you money if somethin’ does happen. Extortion takes your money so somethin’ won’t happen. In your case what they’re sayin’ to you is that if you don’t pay ‘em money, they won’t let you have no job. It’s like a fella sayin’ to you that if you don’t give him a dollar he might punch you in the nose. The problem is a municipality can lever any kind of taxes or tariffs it wants to with the consent of the populace either by vote or through the auspices of elected officials. Is there a city council?”

  I didn’t know an’ I tolt him so.

  “But there is a Mayor.”

  “Yessir. Eustice Forbes.” I said. “He spoke a little at the funeral. I’m supposed to do some work in his office on down the road.”

  “I bet he won’t be mayor too long,” Marion said. “This sheriff, Arberry Yont. You can bet he’s got his eye on bein’ mayor, too. He does that an’ can git a city council or town board behind him, he’ll be able to git away with most anything. Hell, Ruben, if he’s as deep in this as he seems to be, he’s gitting’ a cut of the money you earn and the money you spend. He’s makin’ a fortune. An’ Jeff City, the seat of state government, is just down the road. No tellin’ how big this shit sucker’s plans are.”

  “What are you gonna do?” I asked.

  “I got to study on things for a spell,” he said.

  “You gonna go see Yont?”

  Marion shook his head. “No,” he said. “I’m gonna hang around and see if that sonofabitch comes to me.”

  “Can you arrest him?”

  “I’m federal, Ruben. That don’t apply in this case. He ain’t breakin’ no federal law.”

  “Could a county sheriff?” I asked.

  “Maybe, if there was one, but I speck Yont’s got that sewed up. I ain’t even sure what county this is. Anyways, you’d have to have a complainant.”

  “I’ll do it,” I said.

  “I know ya would, Ruben. You would in a minute, but it ain’t that easy.”

  “Why not?”

  They can take their fifteen percent an’ call it a city license to work in the city limits,” he said. “If it was agreed to by a city council or a vote, it’d be legal.”

  “And you figger they got enough folks on their side to git away with it.”

  “I do, Ruben,” he said. “Now this whole thing they’re doin’ with businesses is a different matter. That’s real extortion, but ya still gotta have a complainant, an’ ya gotta have proof that’ll hold up in a court a law.”

  “I ain’t got no proof,” I said, “but I shore got my chisel mallet. That worked on one of ‘em.”

  Marion grinned. “Doan you go whappin’ folks on the head just yet, Ruben,” he said. “Let me cogitate on this some and see if we can’t figger a way to work this out. I doan want him to know anybody is sniffin’ on his trail just yet. You just keep on doin’ what yer doin’. Meantime, you don’t know me an’ I doan know you.”

  “All right,” I said.

  “Don’t worry, boy. I ain’t gonna leave you outa this. If time comes to root hog or die, you’ll be right down in the mud with me.”

  “Thank you,” I said to him.

  Marion slapped me on the arm. “The fact that you’re thankin’ me,” he said, “makes me worry about you a little bit, Ruben.”

  That schoolhouse got done in good time, an’ I went from there straight to the Baptist church, workin’ on the pulpit for their new preacher. He was only a little fella, not much over five feet, but his voice was three times his size. They stuck a ten inch step behind the pulpit for him to raise him up so he could see everbody an’ everbody could see him, but the first Sunday he tried it, he got to jumpin’ around while he was savin’ folks an’ fell off the step. His ankle swole up considerable, but it didn’t break.

  I got some good oak an’ built him a nice platform six by eight feet, finished it out an’ set it around the back of the pulpit inlettin’ it a little so it looked like one big piece. I trussed the floor of it up real good an’ put a thirty inch rail all the way around it with a gate in the back so he wouldn’t git caught up in the spirit an’ bounce off of it. I was some proud of it an’ he liked it a lot. He got up on it an’ jumped around to test it out. He said it was as good as it could be, an’ that, as a Christian, he just knowed I was gonna waive my fee for the benefit of the church. We discussed it for a while but nothin’ got settled until I fetched my maul an’ headed for it to tear it out. I got my twelve dollars for two days work an’ the wood an’ such.

  I was walkin’ back to the boardin’ house when I noticed a wagon an’ a team a big ol’ mules tied off in front of a
little building down from the drygoods store. I got closer an’ noticed them mules had tiger stripes on their legs. Couldn’t be nobody but Arliss! I opened the door an’ went in. When he seen me, his eyebrows went up an’ he put a finger to his lips. I near choked, stoppin’ the yell that was fixin’ to come outa me.

  “Mister Beeler?” he asked.

  “Yessir,” I said. “I am.”

  “I’m Arliss Hyatt,” he said. “I’m glad you got my message. I have a little work for you here, if you’re free.”

  “I ain’t free, sir,” I said, “but I am available.”

  He started to answer me when the sheriff come through a curtain from the back of the place. He spied me an’ spoke up.

  “Mister Beeler,” he said, nodding at me.

  “Sheriff Yont,” I said, an’ nodded back.

  “You’re going to be working for Mister Hyatt here?”

  “We was just talkin’ about that,” I said.

  “Wonderful work you did on the school. Excellent craftsmanship. Rare in a man so young.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “Mister Hyatt,” he said, “I believe you will be very satisfied with you choice of Mister Beeler here. He has my full recommendation. I, or one of my deputies, will be back when you open for business and discuss with you your possibilities to prosper here in Deer Run. Good day, gentlemen.”

  “Snake in the grass,” Arliss said, when the door closed.

  “What are you doin’ here?” I asked him.

  He grinned at me. “Probably makin’ a mistake, Rube. Good to see ya. Let’s go git somethin’ to eat and I’ll tell ya a story.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Arliss shut the place up an’ me an’ him started walkin’ down the street to the Sweetwater Café. We was in front of the drygoods store when one a them bluevests come up to us an’ asked to see me for a minute. I sent Arliss on his way an’ looked at the feller. He had a big ol’ mustache that went purty much where it wanted to an’ a brown spot on his head above one eye where the skin was puckered a bit. He carried a converted open top Remington with a big flat hammer spur in a deep pocket crossdraw holster.