by Elmer Kelton
“How convenient,” Stockton said, and winced. “After I talked with my girl, I was coming to your shop to arrest you for the attempted murder of two Cross men yesterday. Thanks for saving me the trouble.”
Mary straightened; her eyebrows did the same. “The only ones who should be arrested are that awful bunch of Cross cowboys who attacked us, and tried to kill Jericho.” Her finger became a negative wave. “And I am certainly not your girl. I am Jericho’s.”
The customer being helped nervously said he and his wife would come back later and headed for the door, leaving Mary holding the half-filled basket. Dane stepped aside to let them pass, touching the brim of his hat in greeting.
Not realizing what was happening, Tess eagerly brought a can of tomatoes forward and held it out to Lecaunesse. “Do ya wanna can of’matoes? They be purty.”
“Quoi? Get away, you worthless tramp!” He backhanded Tess, driving the can from her hand and clipping the side of her cheek with his swing.
She stumbled backward and fell, whimpering. Dane was beside her almost before she fell. He spoke softly to her, asserting that it was all right, that the man was bad-mannered. Mary came quickly to his side and patted Tess’s shoulder. Tess stared at Mary with questions in her eyes. Both Dane and Mary helped her stand.
When Dane looked up, Stockton and the two Cross cowboys held revolvers pointed at him.
“Like I said, blacksmith, you’re under arrest for attempted murder,” Stockton growled. “You’re going with us. To that jail shed you like so much.”
A slight noise behind them came and went with none of them glancing in its direction.
From the back of the store came Reicker’s gruff demand. “What seems to be the problem, Sheriff Stockton?” He had entered through the back door.
His eyebrows arching in annoyance, Stockon glanced in Reicker’s direction, as did the other two men. Enough to see the old judge held a long-barreled Navy Colt.
“Oh, glad to see you, Judge Reicker,” Stockton said over his shoulder, keeping his attention on Dane. “I was just arresting Jericho Dane here for the attempted murder of two Cross men. Happened yesterday, near Kill Pond. He wounded them. Luckily none were hurt bad. The others drove him off.”
“I see.”
Stockton’s smile was gathered at the right corner of his mouth. “Yeah, I’m taking him to the jail shed. Hold him there until the circuit judge gets here. A week or so, I reckon.”
Dane was taut; he hadn’t expected this. Mary held onto his arm. Tess looked at Mary and took hold of the blacksmith’s same arm.
“No. No, ya aren’t.” The words were like bullets from the old judge.
Stockton spun around and snarled, “What the hell do you mean? I’m the county law here.” He remembered Dane and whirled back.
Dane hadn’t moved.
“Yah, that ya be. Fer the moment,” Reicker said. “Reckon the county’ll wise up soon’nuff. Meantime, we’re gonna have us a hearin’ on this matter. If the evidence warrants, we’ll hold Mr. Dane fer trial. With the honorable Judge Weisner presiding. Whenev’r he gits hyar.”
Stockton wasn’t sure how to respond. He didn’t like knowing the old man’s revolver was pointed at his midsection. His shoulders rose and fell.
“All right. A hearing it is,” he agreed. “I’ll take him to the jail shed and—”
“No ag’in, Sheriff. Mr. Dane’ll be allowed to work. On his word that he won’t go nowhar.” Reicker motioned with his gun. “Do I have yur word on that, Mr. Dane?”
“You have my word, Judge. I’ll be here. In Torsmill.”
“Good. You boys put away that iron.” Reicker swung his gun back toward Stockton, waited for the three men to reholster their weapons, then continued, “We’ll have the hearin’ at Carter’s place. Say, ten o’clock. Tomorry mornin’.” He pointed with the revolver. “An’ you, Sheriff, you are responsible for bringin’ the Cross men who were there. All seven o’ them as witnesses.”
The stocky cowboy asked, “How do you know it was seven?”
“Shut up,” Stockton said, then softened his response to Reicker. “But, Judge, remember, two are wounded.”
“Don’t reckon their ridin’ in a buckboard will hurt’em none. Ya said yurse’f they weren’t hurt bad. Ya bring’em,” Reicker declared. “If all o’ them ain’t hyar for the hearin’, I’ll figger they ain’t tellin’ it true.”
Stockton was unable to speak. He looked at the frowning cowboys, who waited for his direction. None came.
“Reckon ya boys better git to goin’. Wouldn’t want to be late for the hearin’, would ya?” Reicker said.
“Just a minute, Judge. Please.” Dane spotted Tess’s fallen tomato can, walked over and picked it up. He took three steps and slammed it into the stomach of Lecaunesse, then dropped the can at his feet. The cowboy bent over and grabbed for the pain.
“Don’t ever do that again.” Dane stepped back, next to Tess and Mary. “Apologize to Tess.”
The Frenchman slowly straightened, tried to take a deep breath, but couldn’t. “Pardon, mademoiselle.” He bowed slightly.
“Watching you hang is going to be one of my favorite days,” Stockton said, pointing at Dane.
The blacksmith stared at him, both hands in his pockets. His right hand was curled around his revolver.
Stockton avoided the glare by heading for the door.
“Oui, a favorite day,” Lecaunesse said, rubbing his stomach with his hand as he hurried after Stockton.
The second cowboy studied Dane, glanced at Mary and Tess, then at Reicker. He mumbled, “Bringin’ ’em in ain’t smart.” He realized the other two had left, hitched up his chaps and rushed out without looking back.
Dane went to the door and watched them ride away. Mary was quickly at his side, seeking his hand with hers.
“Oh, Jericho. Jericho. This is terrible. Won’t it ever end?” she said.
Turning toward her, Dane said, “Not until Cross is stopped—or several of us are dead.”
She winced and looked at the closed door.
Tess waddled over, clutching a can of peaches. “Wanna see a purty can?” She held it up for Dane to examine.
Forcing the best smile he could make, Dane said, “Why, sure, Tess. I would like that. Thank you.” He accepted the can and studied it. “Oh, you’re right, Tess, it is very pretty.”
Tess beamed. “Thar is lots more.”
“Well, good. I’ll buy this one then.”
She shook her head in affirmation and looked at Mary for approval.
Walking toward them, Reicker shoved his gun into his coat pocket, then adjusted the cigar in his mouth. “Yur gonna haff to be yur own lawyer, boy Better talk with Lester Wilson. He’ll testify ya were headin’ out fer a picnic, when ya rented that buggy from his place—an’ how ya looked comin’ back.”
“I will. Thanks for stepping in, J. R.,” Dane said. “That was going to turn nasty.”
“Yah. Had me a feelin’ ya was never gonna git to that shed.”
Dane nodded agreement.
Waving her arms to interrupt, Mary added that she would testify to the whole event from beginning to end.
“Bin a ‘chewin’ on that, missy.” Reicker rolled his shoulders as if to relieve an unseen burden. “ÏÃ man Cross’ll figure yur the key to this. If they kin keep ya from testifying then it’s Dane’s word agin’ all them.” He shook his head. “Not sure I could rule on that thar.”
Understood was that Reicker meant he wouldn’t be able to declare Dane innocent in that case and he would have to be bound over for trial.
“I will be there, Mr. Reicker.” Mary folded her arms defiantly.
After Dane purchased the can of peaches, the rest of the day was a blur to Dane. He had supper with Mary, and Tess joined them. He talked with Lester Wilson, the livery owner, who said it would be a pleasure to tell what he knew, adding that it was time the town stood up to Cross. Sleep didn’t want to come and Dane finally gave up and sat at his table, drink
ing coffee and writing notes.
After washing and shaving, he put on his one suit, now with a hole in the pocket, decided against carrying his revolver and headed out. It was nearly nine twenty. He and Mary had agreed to meet at her store at half-past. For luck, he stopped at his shop, left five pieces of bread for his visiting squirrel, then went to her store. She wasn’t there. The store was dark.
At a quarter to ten, he decided she must be waiting for him at the restaurant and walked there. Marshal Xavier Anthony was standing outside Carter’s. A table had been set up outside to hold any guns. Twenty or so gunbelts and several loose revolvers rested on its surface. Dane guessed most were Cross weapons.
“Good morning, Mr. Dane,” Anthony said. His eyes delighted in the situation. “Sheriff Stockton is already inside—with his witnesses. ” He cocked his head to the side. “I need to check you over to make sure you’re not carrying.”
“Do your duty Marshal,” Dane said. “Is Miss Tressian inside?”
“Haven’t seen her today Dane. Why?”
Dane shook his head. “Nothing that can’t wait.”
X
With no expression, Marshal Anthony advised him that a wagon was waiting to take him to Waco where he would be held for trial. Dane told him to plan to use it for getting cloth and continued inside before Anthony could respond. His mind was whirling with worry. Mary would be here unless something had happened to her.
Everything in him wanted to turn and run to her house, but he knew that would be the excuse Cross and Stockton wanted to hunt him down and kill him. He must prepare himself mentally to go through the hearing without her. With luck, he would look for her later. He had no other choice. His heart was slamming against his chest.
He froze a few steps into the restaurant. Mary, where are you? Please, God, don’t let her be hurt. Please!
The restaurant was rearranged for the hearing and packed with townspeople; a dozen Cross men had cornered the front tables. The rest of the restaurant was lined with additional interested people, standing and waiting. At the back, one table had been set off by itself for Reicker to preside. One chair was placed for the judge; another at the table’s edge for witnesses. Two other tables had been arranged a few feet away, one for the prosecution, one for the defense. Stockton was already sitting at the farthest.
Rudolph Cross sat at the table closest to Stockton. At his table were the two wounded cowboys and others. The grizzled roper had his arm in a sling; Hogan, who had roped him around the neck, was, ironically, wearing a neck bandage. The blacksmith felt his raw neck in reflex. Winslow Tatum completed the table.
At another table, he saw Hollis Walker, the cowboy he had arrested for shooting in the Longhorn Saloon. Walker looked like a boy who had just been told today was Christmas. Sitting beside him was the Mexican rider, Lecaunesse and the bucktoothed cowboy. The stocky man from the store yesterday was sitting at another table with three other Cross men.
Cross saw Dane enter and said something to Hogan, who turned around and met the blacksmith’s gaze. Hogan sneered and mouthed, “A dead man ye be.”
Ignoring the threat, Dane looked around and saw Lester Wilson sitting with the mayor. Dane nodded and both returned the greeting. Dane took a step forward, then stopped. He needed to talk with Mikman. About Mary. He backtracked and slid between tables, receiving encouragement from various townspeople. He moved past the table with three councilmen—Harold Ringley, Gerald McCormick and Edward Lindsay—and another townsman. None of them attempted to greet him.
Mikman stood as Dane came to his table. “Herr Marshal. This is nicht a gut day for Torsmill. It ist nicht.”
“Fred, I need a favor.”
“Anything for du. Anything.”
Dane told him about Mary’s absence and wondered if he would go to her house and check on her. Mikman quietly agreed and left.
As Dane sat down at the table reserved for the defendant, J. R. Reicker entered from the kitchen and took his position behind the first table. In his right hand was a gavel. He made a simple statement that the purpose of a preliminary hearing was to determine whether sufficient evidence existed for the accused to be bound over for actual trial.
A Cross cowboy at a middle front table yelled, “Hang the no-good bastard. He tried to kill our friends.”
At the next table, Lecaunesse grinned and agreed, “Oui. Hang thees bastard.”
Reicker slammed the gavel against the table. No one saw Henry Carter wince, watching from the kitchen. “One more shout like that an’ I’ll clear this hyar place. Cross, I expect ya to holt your boys in line.”
Cross glared at Reicker, then turned regally in his chair. “All o’ you, shut up. This is a courtroom. We are here for justice. For my men.”
That brought snickers, but Reicker ignored them. Instead, he withdrew his Navy Colt and placed it on the table. “Let’s make real sure we all understand what’s goin’ on hyar.” His voice was strong and confident. “The issue before me—and me alone—is to determine jes’ what went on yestiday out thar near Kill Pond, between these seven Cross cowboys an’ Mr. Dane.” He paused and fingered the gavel resting on the table. “Thar ain’t no argument ‘bout a shootin’ happenin’—it did—jes’ whether or not it were self-defense on Mr. Dane’s part, or attempted murder. That’s the decidin’ part. If’n I decide it were attempted murder, Mr. Dane’ll be sent away for trial by Circuit Court Judge Weisner. If’n I decide it were self-defense, he goes free. An’ that’s it. Clear’nuff to ev’r-body?”
“Get on with it, Reicker. We all know what the bastard tried to do.”
The tables of Cross cowboys shouted their support of Rudolph Cross’s statement.
Reicker pounded his gavel again and the rancher told his men to be quiet. The room became very still.
“Sheriff Stockton, is the prosecution ready?” Reicker asked, looking at the county lawman.
“We sure are, Judge. Pretty cut an’ dried.”
Reicker turned to Dane. “Is the defendant ready?”
Dane took a deep breath and stood. “Not quite, Your Honor.”
The restaurant-courtroom wormed with a mixture of gasps, laughs, howls and mumbled observations.
Reicker vigorously pounded the table again. His ears wiggled in response to the pounding. Carter came from the kitchen with a wood cutting board and suggested the judge use it to hit on instead of his table. Reicker nodded without paying any attention to the offering.
“Mr. Dane, please tell this hyar court wha’ the problem be?” The judge’s face was tense.
“My key witness, Miss Tressian, is not here,” Dane announced, looking directly at Cross. “The only reason for that—someone is holding her against her will.”
“Cross, jes’ what the hell are ya tryin’ to pull?” Reicker’s face was even harder.
The malicious rancher threw up his heavy arms. His reddening face made his beard look even more like it was a disguise. “Hey, wait a damn minute. I don’t know what the hell this blacksmith’s talkin’ about.” He looked around at the men at his table. “Maybe the lady decided she didn’t want to be a part of a lie.”
“You son of a bitch!” Dane ran at the sneering rancher.
Big Juan jumped to his feet with a short-barreled Colt in his hands.
“Stop, Jericho!” Reicker yelled. “Not here, son. Not in my court. I mean it. Stop.”
Dane skidded to a halt; his eyes tore into the cattleman. He hadn’t noticed the Mexican with the gun.
Reicker had.
“Put that thar gun down, cowboy. Lay it on the table,” Reicker growled. In his hand was the Navy Colt. “I won’t say it again.”
After a nod from Cross, Big Juan laid the weapon on the table and sat, looking around as if nothing had happened.
“Marshal Anthony, I want this hyar man arrested. He was tolt to come in to my court unarmed. That’ll be two days in jail or twenty dollars for contempt of court. My court.”
Lecaunesse leaned against the Mexican and whisper
ed. Big Juan’s eyes widened and he thought for a moment about grabbing his gun, but a glance at Reicker changed his mind. The judge was pointing the big Colt at him.
At the back of the room, Marshal Anthony appeared surprised at the judge’s order. He hesitated and looked around, as if expecting it to have been directed at someone else. He swallowed and found his voice.
“Judge, I think that’s a bit harsh. The gentleman was only trying to defend his boss against an attack from Dane.” Anthony looked only at Cross as he spoke. “I’ll not be a party to this.”
“No worry, Xavier,” Cross’s voice boomed across the crowded room. “I’ll pay the fine.” He reached into his vest pocket, retrieved a twenty-dollar gold piece and tossed it toward Reicker.
The coin bounced on the table and onto the floor, where it spun for a few seconds and settled. Reicker made no attempt to get it.
Instead, he said, “Sheriff Stockton, bring that thar gun to me.”
Reluctantly, Stockton shoved back his chair, retrieved the gun and the coin, laid them on Reicker’s table and returned to his seat. As soon as he sat, Stockton challenged Dane’s delay, noting that he had made the effort to bring all the men involved to the trial on time—even those who were wounded.
Reicker spoke through gritted teeth. “Reluctantly, I dun agree wi’ yah. Sheriff Stockton, present yur first witness.”
Smiling widely, Stockton announced, “Yes, Your Honor. I call Winslow Tatum, foreman of the Cross ranch, to the stand.”
Reicker pointed to the empty chair pushed up against his table and Tatum sat, glaring at Dane. His right pockmarked cheek carried a red streak from Mary’s whipping. After Reicker swore him in, he asked the foreman to tell what had happened. His story was that the seven riders were ambushed by Dane when they rode to the stream just north of Kill Pond. They fought back, but two of his men were wounded and Dane got away. He finished and beamed.
“Mr. Tatum, for my understanding would ya have the six other men who were at the shootin’ hold up thar hands, so we kin see who they be?”
Tatum smiled. “‘Course, Judge. Hold up your hand if’n you were one of the boys Dane tried to kill. There’s the two who were shot.” He pointed at the wounded men.