The Deer Run Trail

by David R Lewis

  “By the way, boy,” he said, “I really do like that hat.”

  Elmo like to wore me out. He had a lady workin’ for him so when I got there he took me into the back an’ started in on me. Some a what he said stuck, but most of it come at me so fast I couldn’t ketch aholt of it. It just flew around the room an’ flapped out the winda like bats. I stuck it out though, an’ done my best to agree with everthin’ he said. It went on for quite a spell, but eventually he slowed down.

  When I escaped I noticed I was some hungry, but the way my stomach was jumpin’ around, I knowed I shouldn’t eat nothin’. I went back to Arliss’ place an’ kilt time while he worked on settin’ a new trigger in a ol’ ten gauge Greener. After a while, Marion showed up. He looked me over.

  “Ya look like ya mean business, Ruben,” he said. “That there shore cain’t hurt. Good for ya.”

  Homer an’ Clarence come at the same time. Homer looked at me an’ smiled, but he didn’t say nothin’. Clarence was the big news. He warn’t wearin’ no badge, an’ the blue vest was gone. He grinned at me.

  “Hi, boss,” he said. “What are we fixin’ to do?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Everbody else went to the schoolhouse around half-past four. I waited until near five afore I walked over. There was people everwhere, inside, standin’ around outside an’ such. Several buggies an’ horses was tied out front, an’ a feller could hear the buzzin’ a the crowd a half a block away. Four or five bluevests stood around the edge a things. Elmo was hangin’ around outside the door lookin’ nervous. He brightened up some when he seen me an’ come hustlin’ over.

  “We got a mess a folks here, Rube,” he said. “More than two hundred. Probably close to three. The room is packed. Now that you’re here, these people outside will squeeze in. I’ll go up front in a minute and introduce you. Then you come on up. You remember what I told you?”

  “Ever word,” I said.

  Elmo looked at me for a second an’ grinned. “The hell you do,” he said. “This is your meetin’, Ruben. Yours. You’ll do fine.”

  He took off then. I watched the stragglers go in an’ I stepped up into the door an’ waited.

  The tables an’ such had been carried outside to make more room. The benches were moved up close to the front an’ in the center for the women to have a place to set. The rest of the room was standin’ space for the men. The teacher’s desk was pushed back an’ a low crate was in front of it. Purty soon, Elmo walked to the front of the room an’ stepped up on that crate. The place quieted down.

  “Ladies and gents,” he said, “most of you know me from my drygoods store. I’m Elmo McCoy. I am here this evening to introduce a young man that I have come to know, to like, and to respect. This young man, I have learned, while acting as a deputy United States Marshal, was among those who took down the Duncan gang over by Gasconade earlier this year. It was he who saved a traveler an’ his daughter from death and worse just outside of town less than a month ago. On at least two occasions, he has acquitted himself well within our community by dealing with men of low character who insulted our women. But more than all that, he also did the finish carpentry in this very room in which we gather.”

  That comment got folks laughin’ some an’ lookin’ around.

  “Now it seems,” Elmo went on, “that this fine young man has taken an opportunity to do right by our community. This gives our community the opportunity to do right by him. I am very pleased to introduce to you, Mister Ruben Beeler. C’mon up, Rube.”

  I’ll be durned if they didn’t clap for me! I walked on up there, thinkin’ about how crossin’ a crick warn’t so bad once ya got yer feet wet, an’ turned around an’ looked out across that room at all them people lookin’ back at me. I just stood there for a minute, then I took my hat off an’ put it on the desk. Then I run my fingers through my hair an’ stepped up on that crate. The place got quiet, an’ my mouth got dry. I seen Miss Harmony settin’ in the middle of that covey a women, smilin’ at me. I don’t know why I done what I done, but I done it anyway.

  “Miss Harmony,” I said, “yer lookin’ right purty this evenin’. Are ya doin’ all right?”

  “I’m fine, Mister Beeler,” she said. “How are you?”

  “I’m plumb scairt,” I said. “An’ that’s the truth.”

  She laughed, an’ the crowd laughed, an’ I laughed, an’ all of a sudden, I felt better.

  “Folks,” I said, “I ain’t never stood in front a so many people afore in my life. I’m grateful that all of ya come out this evenin’, an’ right surprised that all a you would do that just to hear me talk. But since ya did, I will.

  “It was not intent that brung me here to Deer Run, but circumstance. But I’m here, an’ I like it. I have a place here now, I’ve called bingo here, I have found work here, I have come to know some good people here, an’ I believe I might even have a lady friend here.”

  The crowd laughed a little at that.

  “I live here,” I said. “Arberry Yont offered me two thousand dollars to leave this town. I’m still here. He brung Pig Wiggins an’ Arkansas Bill Cole in to run me off or kill me. I am still here. I like this place, but there are things in this community that I don’t care for at all. There are things here that distress me some, an’ most of ‘em wear blue vests. Almost ever person an’ ever business in this town has to pay tribute to Arberry Yont an’ his gang. There is a big difference between a tax an’ a tribute, just like there is a big difference between a group of law enforcement officers an’ a gang a thieves. The plain truth is, this town is on the wrong side a them differences.

  “To keep a sheriff an’ some deputies don’t come free. They deserve to git paid for a job a work like anybody else. But, if yer payin’ this bunch ten dollars a month, you should only have to pay one. If yer payin’ these robbers fifty dollars a month, you should only have to pay five. You are payin’ ten times more to Yont an’ his gang that you should have to pay, an’ that kind thing needs to stop!”

  The room come alive then, with clappin’ an’ some whistles. When it settled down, I went on.

  “This town deserves a mayor that can find his way out of a crowd a three. This town deserves a city board that works for the city instead of the city workin’ for them. You people deserve to git outa Arberry Yont’s harness, an’ out from under his lash!”

  Agin the crowd took off. I waited ‘til they settled down.

  “If you good people elect me sheriff, yer law tax will git cut by ninety percent. You’ll be glad to see a deputy on the street. You’ll be free to elect the city officials you want, an’ vote the crooks an’ carpetbaggers outa office. But that has got to start with the sheriff. The plain truth is, if you vote me in, you vote him out. We need to git shed of him folks, an’ them bluevests that run with him. To do that, you need my help an’ I need yer help.”

  When the crowd got quiet, a fella near the back a the room spoke up.

  “Yont ain’t gonna take to this much,” he said. “Ain’t no tellin’ what he might do!”

  “Yessir,” I said. “You are exactly right. He’s got deputies outside right now, an’ Lord knows who else. That’s why I ain’t in this alone. Come on up, boys.”

  From different places in the room, Marion, Homer, Arliss, an Clarence worked their way through the crowd an’ lined up in front a where I stood on that box.

  I give the crowd a minute to stop whisperin’ an’ spoke up. “Here we got U.S. Marshal Marion Daniels,” I said. “We got ex-U.S. Marshal Homer Poteet, we got gunsmith an’ shootist Mister Arliss Hyatt, an’ we got ex-Yont deputy Clarence Banks. These men an’ me have all been authorized, by way of the United States Attorney General, the governor of the State of Missouri, an’ the Supreme Court of the State of Missouri to be commissioned as officers in what is knowed as the Missouri State Special Police Force. Let’s put ‘em on men.”

  While the crowd clapped an’ cheered, we all took out our new badges an’ pinned ‘em on.

  “
There it is, folks,” I said, when things got quiet. “Now you got the real law on yer side. You got the Missouri State Police. The rest of it is up to you. My thanks to all of you for comin’ out. Have a good evenin’.”

  I lifted my hat up off the desk an’ put it back on.

  I took a half a hour or more to git the place cleared out. Folks kept comin’ up to me wantin’ to talk an’ shake hands an’ such. It got plumb silly is what it done. Finally things broke up an’ I was standin’ outside next to Marion when Elmo come up.

  “It couldn’t have gone any better, Rube,” he said. “It just couldn’t have gone any better! You need to get over to the Sweetwater and get a bite to eat. Let folks see you an’ say something to you. It’s real important you be out in the public right now.”

  “All right,” I said. “I’ll do it.”

  “Wonderful!” he said, an’ run off.

  I looked at Marion. “You hungry?” I asked.

  “You go on,” he said. “Me an’ the boys’ll spread out some. Wouldn’t be smart for all of us to git too close together right now.”

  I had broke away from a couple more people an’ started walkin’, when I seen Miss Harmony standin’ out by the road. I went over. She looked at me an’ smiled.

  “You said you thought you had a lady friend, Ruben,” she said. “Is that true?”

  I grinned an’ looked up the road a little. “I hope I do,” I said.

  “Well,” Miss Harmony said, “I guess anything is possible. Nice hat.”

  I watched her git up in their little buggy with her daddy an’ drive off.

  While I walked on to the Sweetwater it come to me that there warn’t gonna be no more meetin’s or speeches. This thing would play out afore it ever got near to election time.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  When I got over to the Sweetwater, it was plumb near full. Just inside the door was that little table that Pig Wiggins had set at. I took it an’ leaned my chair back agin the wall. Lord. I hadden et nothin’ all day, nor slept much the night afore neither. Plus, I’d been like a snake in a skillet, worryin’ about that meetin’ for near two days. When I hit the chair an’ leaned back, most a the stuffin’ just leaked right out me. Miss Margie an’ another gal was tearin’ around the place like they was on wheels, tryin’ to keep up with the extra business. Margie seen me, dropped what she was doin’, an’ hustled over.

  “Ruben Beeler,” she said, “folks in here been talkin’ about you an’ that meetin’ tonight. Sounds to me like you got this whole town in your pocket!”

  I smiled at her. “That there will wear off soon enough,” I said.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “You are the topic of every conversation. We got some nice beef roast with new potatoes and carrots. That sound good?”

  “Have ya got any pie or cobbler?”

  “We do,” she said. “We have some blackberry pie and we have some blueberry cobbler.”

  “Miss Margie,” I said, “if you would bring me two pieces a that blueberry cobbler in one bowl with some cream on it, a cup of coffee, an’ a bowl of sugar, I would surely dance to your next weddin’.”

  She dimpled all up an’ just looked as purty as a bluebird. “How ‘bout my first one, Ruben?” she said. “Would you dance to that?”

  “Why Miss Margie,” I said, “have you got a weddin’ comin’ up?”

  “I do,” she said an’ giggled. “Around Christmas sometime. We ain’t set the exact date yet.”

  “Well, who’s the lucky fella?” I asked. “Do I know him?”

  “You do,” she said, beamin’ at me. “It’s Clarence.”

  “Clarence Banks?” I said.

  “That’s him. He sure does think a lot a you, Ruben. To tell the truth, so do I. I think you are a fine man and you always was a gentleman to me.”

  “That’s nice of you to say, Margie,” I said. “I believe you to be a good woman an’ I think highly of your intended. I feel like he’s my friend.”

  “Thank you, Ruben,” she said. “Now don’t you go blabbin’ this around. Me an’ Clarence ain’t announced nothin’ yet.”

  “My lips are sealed,” I said.

  “At least until I git that cobbler here,” she said, an’ scooted off.

  She had just stepped away when a fella an’ his wife, on the way out, stopped to tell me how much they liked my talk an’ such. Purty soon, another fella stopped on his way out, then another fella an’ his wife. It become regular. Durn near everbody that left the place, spied me settin’ there an’ stopped. I appreciated they was all happy with what they heard an’ such, but I kindly started feelin’ like a preacher at the end of the service. I shouldn’t a set right by the door like I done. In a little bit, Margie brung me my cobbler.

  “There you are, Ruben,” she said. “No charge, it’s on the house. You just set right there an’ enjoy it. You look a little tired.”

  “If I go to sleep an’ fall outa this chair,” I said, “git Clarence to carry me home, will ya?”

  She giggled an’ bounced off. That gal had so much energy, I got even more tired just watchin’ her.

  I like my pie sweet, so I dropped a spoonful a sugar on the cobbler an kindly mashed it all up in the cream. Since I was eatin’, most folks just smiled or nodded as they left, instead of stoppin’ to talk. That cobbler an’ sugar give me some energy, so I flagged Margie down an’ asked for a half order of that roast. The place was about two thirds empty an’ I was near through my meal when Clarence walked in. He noticed me.

  “Howdy boss,” he said. “I didn’t know you was in here. I’ll go back out on patrol.”

  “Set down, Clarence,” I said. “Take a load off. I’m just finishin’ up.”

  He set an’ looked at me. “Anythin’ goin’ on?” he asked.

  I couldn’t resist. “Just that Margie gal,” I said. “I been settin’ an watchin’ her. She shore is a purty little thing. Terrible easy on the eyes.”

  Clarence didn’t know what to do with that. “You, uh, you an’ her usta keep company didn’t ya?” he said. “Wadden she the one you was with the night you knocked that feller off the boardwalk?”

  “Yes, she was,” I said. “Lookin’ at her like I been, an’ watchin’ her walk around, I’m thinkin’ I oughta start up with her agin.”

  “Uh, Ruben,” Clarence said, “about that. Uh, me an’ her, well, uh, we…”

  I couldn’t keep on with it. “Rest yourself, Clarence,” I said. “Me an’ Margie never did keep company. We just talked some an’ went for a couple a walks. I think she’s a fine girl an’ I think you are a lucky man. Just a few minutes ago, she confessed yer plans for Christmas time. She also made me swear to keep it a secret. I only told you ‘cause I thought you maybe already knowed about it.”

  Clarence got the color of a strawberry an’ ducked his head, grinnin’. I stood up an’ dropped a dollar on the table.

  “I appreciate ya, Clarence,” I said. “Have some roast on me.”

  It was near full dark when I got outside, an’ a light breeze outa the north had cooled things down some. All in all, it was a fine night.

  I took my time walkin’ home, stopped an’ jawed with Arliss for a spell, then went to my place. I lit a lamp an’ fussed around for a while, then blowed the light out, stripped down to my skivvies, made sure the little shotgun was on the nightstand next to me, laid back, let out a sigh, an’ woke up. I think I was just too plum tired to sleep. I tossed an’ turned for quite a spell, an’ then, just as I was finally droppin’ off, I heard Homer yell.

  “Right there you sonofabitch, or I’ll put a hole clean through ya!”

  Then they was a gunshot, then that big ol’ Sharps roared.

  I come outa the bed like it was on fire, grabbed that little shotgun, an’ tore out the door.

  “It’s all right, Rube,” Homer hollered, “he’s down!”

  I went around to the east end of the place, the only wall where they wasn’t a winda, an’ there was Homer, that Sharps tucked
up under his arm, a Colt in his right hand.

  “I think he’s all they was,” he said. “I didn’t see nobody else.”

  Bout that time, Arliss come trottin’ up in his bedclothes carryin’ a lantern. There, layin’ on his side on the ground was a bluevest I didn’t know. Beside him was a tipped over two gallon can a coal oil an’ a box a matches. A Colt revolver was about a foot from his outstretched hand. There was a hole through his chest an’ out his back that had just missed his badge.

  “Fixin’ to set yer place afire,” Homer said. “Not no more.”

  Clarence come runnin’ up, half outa breath, gun in hand.

  “Holster yer piece, Clarence,” I said. “It’s all over. You know this fella?”

  “Yessir,” Clarence said, lookin’ down at him in the lantern light. “His name is Clyde Franklin.”

  “All right,” I said. “Don’t nobody touch nothin’. Clarence, you go git the Sheriff. Not a deputy, but Yont. Wake him up if ya need to, but git his ass down here to investigate this shootin’.”

  Some other men from out in the street had showed up, after hearin’ the shots an’ all.

  “Homer,” I said, “keep these fellas on hand. They got here quick enough to verify that nobody moved nothin’ nor tampered with no evidence. I’ll be right back after I git some pants on. Arliss, go git dressed afore I arrest ya for bein’ indecent in public.”

 

  I was back out in just a minute, boots an’ pants an’ gunbelt on, with another railroad lantern. Three or four fellas was standin’ around, waitin’. Homer was settin’ on the porch with his feet up on the rail, smokin’.

  “Howdy, Rube,” he said. “How ya doin’?”

  “I’m fine,” I said. “You all right?”

  “He hit me, but not much. Just a little bullet burn on my arm right below my shoulder.”

  There was a rip in his shirt, but hardly no blood that I could see, even holdin’ that lantern up close.

  “You need to go to the Doc?” I asked.

  “Aw, hell no,” he said. “I’ll just pour a little whiskey on it an’ it’ll be fine. Special if I don’t use all the whiskey on my arm.”