Silver got up, approached the bench, and stood facing the judge.
“Mr. Silver,” Judge Travis said, “in a brief opening statement, tell this court what you expect to prove. You may then present any new evidence or call witnesses.”
Instead of speaking to the judge, Silver turned to face the jury.
“Gentlemen of the jury,” said Silver, “I can prove that Nathan Stone had nothing to do with that bank robbery, that he was riding west and stumbled onto their camp. Two of the robbers were in camp, one of them wounded. Stone traded shots with the men, killing one. The other escaped, and from somewhere behind Stone, the third robber shot him in the back. Two of the robbers then escaped, one of them leading the dead man’s horse. The other man led Stone’s horse, and the two rode away with the money stolen from the bank.”
“Objection,” Ackerman shouted. “Counsel for the defense is speculating.”
“Overruled,” said Judge Travis.
“Judge,” Silver said, “I have used these preliminary remarks to set the stage for an accusation I am about to make. According to the testimony of Sheriff Oscar Littlefield, two of the bank robbers were wounded in the chase, having been shot from behind. However, Nathan Stone is prepared to testify that he was facing the man who fired at him, that he returned the fire, killing the man. What kind of lawman looks at a dead man and doesn’t bother to determine if he was shot from front or back?”
“Does the prosecution care to comment on that?” Judge Travis asked.
There was just a hint of sarcasm in his voice, and one of the jurors laughed.
“Judge,” said Ackerman, “both men had been wounded in the chase. I’m sure Sheriff Littlefield just assumed—”
“You don’t send a man to prison based on anybody’s assumption,” Travis snapped. “You may continue, Mr. Silver.”
“When Stone was found wounded near the outlaw camp,” said Silver, “the sheriff and his posse apparently made no further effort to trail the robbers who escaped. If they had, it wouldn’t have been too difficult to find the tracks of four horses, one of them belonging to Nathan Stone.”
“Your honor,” Ackerman cut in, “there was a storm, and the trail was—”
“Mr. Ackerman,” said Judge Travis, slamming the podium with his gavel, “you are out of order. Another such outburst and I’ll declare you in contempt of court.”
“Your honor,” Silver continued, “the storm in question didn’t wash out the trail until well after dark. In fact, the sheriff and his posse had returned to town well before the rain began. While Sheriff Littlefield seems to have forgotten that, most of the men who rode in that posse are here. I believe we can jog their memories, under oath.”
“Do you have anything to say to that, Mr. Ackerman?” Judge Travis asked.
“There was little use in pursuing a trail soon to be lost,” Ackerman said. “The sheriff had two of the bank robbers, one of them dead. There were three to start with, and it was safe to assume- ”
“It’s never safe to assume anything, Mr. Ackerman,” said Judge Travis, “when false assumptions send a man to prison unjustly.”
“An eyewitness—one of the tellers—testified that Stone was in the bank,” Ackerman said. “Are you calling that an assumption too?”
“No,” said Silver, “I’m calling that a carefully calculated lie to save Sheriff Littlefield’s reputation, to justify sending an innocent man to Huntsville prison.”
“That’s a damned lie,” Ackerman bawled. “You can’t prove it.”
“Order in the court!” Judge Travis shouted. “Mr. Prosecutor, I am declaring you in contempt of this court and fining you fifty dollars. You will pay before you depart, and if I am forced to declare you in contempt a second time, I’ll have you jailed. Mr. Silver, you may continue.”
“I had hoped this wouldn’t be necessary,” said Silver, “but since it is, then I’ll make it easy as I can on the parties involved. Twenty-three years ago, Oscar Littlefield had an affair with a woman whose name was Eva Montgomery. She’s long dead, and I mention her only to prove the truth of what I am about to say. Eva had a son. Oscar Littlefield’s son. To Littlefield’s credit, he helped with the boy as best he could. When the boy was barely eighteen, Oscar Littlefield got him a job as a bank teller. This son of Littlefield’s —Stewart Montgomery—is the teller who identified Nathan Stone as one of the bank robbers. If I must, I can call Stewart to the stand, put him under oath ...”
But the truth of Silver’s accusation was immediately evident. White-faced, the young man in question leaped to his feet and ran for the door. Two men caught him, dragging him back into the court room.
“Mr. Ackerman,” Judge Travis said, “have you anything to say?”
“Your honor,” said Ackerman, sweating, “I knew nothing of this. I ... I don’t know what to say ... I ...”
“Then take your seat,” Judge Travis said. “Gentlemen of the jury, it’s time to retire and reach a verdict. Shall this man be returned to prison, based on original evidence, or should the court set him free?”
“Set him free!” shouted the jury in a single voice, rising to their feet.
“Nathan Stone,” said Judge Travis, “you are free to go. I regret that I can offer you nothing on behalf of the State of Texas but an apology.”
Judge Travis left the bench, seeming not to notice the stomping and shouting that prevailed in the courtroom. People Nathan didn’t know wrung his hand and slapped him on the back. Texas Rangers, their faith in him vindicated, surrounded him. Finally he was able to speak to Ben Thompson and King Fisher.
“God,” said Fisher. “Ben and me would of busted you out if we’d knew you was in there.”
“Damn right,” Thompson agreed, obviously more than a little drunk.
“Thanks,” said Nathan, “but you hombres are generally in enough trouble without jumping into mine.”
Nathan didn’t get a chance to speak to Silver, Harley, Vivian, or the McQueens until he finally escaped the courtroom. He was barely down the courthouse steps when Empty came romping toward him, yipping his excitement. Nathan knelt, ruffling the dog’s ears, and when he eventually got loose, he kissed Vivian long and hard. That done, he turned to Bess McQueen with the same treatment.
“I won’t hold it against you,” said Harley, “if we just shake hands.”
Silver laughed. “That’s kind of how I feel.”
“Nathan, now that you’re free,” said Barnabas, “what’s the first thing you’d like to do?”
“Order me some grub that I don’t have to eat off a tin tray,” Nathan said, “but I’ll need to get out of these prison clothes.”
“I thought of that,” said Captain Dillard. “I have the clothes you were wearing when you went to Huntsville. They’re in my saddlebag. Your Winchester and Colts are in my office in Houston.”
“I’m obliged,” Nathan said. “I can get another horse, but those weapons were given to me by Captain Sage Jennings. I wouldn’t part with them for any price.”
“I don’t blame you,” said Captain Dillard. “I’ll get your clothes from my saddlebag. I think there’s a cloakroom in the courthouse where you can change.”
Nathan changed into his familiar clothing, leaving the prison clothes in a trash can. As he was about to leave the courthouse, a door—probably to a closet—opened, and Oscar Littlefield stepped out. He froze when he saw Nathan. He seemed much older, for he had his hat in his hand and his hair was snow white.
“I’m sorry that ... had to come out,” Nathan said.
“You got nothin’ to be sorry for,” said Littlefield. “A man does wrong, and it catches up to him. A lie always needs a bigger lie to cover it, until you can’t hide it no more.”
He went on out the door, and Nathan waited a few minutes before he followed.
“Sheriff Littlefield just came out,” Captain Dillard said. “What was he doing in there?”
“Facing up to his past,” said Nathan. “I feel sorry for him.”
> “Nathan,” Silver said, “don’t waste your sympathy on him. To cover his own carcass, he sent you to prison, for God’s sake.”
“I came out of it without any scars,” said Nathan, “but Littlefield’s hurting, and he’s just been sentenced to life.”
CHAPTER 8
Nathan bought another horse and saddle in Austin. A grulla, it was much like the one he had lost to the bank robbers. Reaching the Ranger outpost in Houston, Nathan belted on his twin Colts and secured his Winchester in the saddle boot.
“You’re lookin’ like Nathan Stone again,” Harley said approvingly.
“I’m startin’ to feel a little like him,” said Nathan.
“I want you to spend Christmas with us in New Orleans,” Barnabas said.
“Maybe I will,” said Nathan. “Silver, why don’t you join us?”
“I can never plan that far ahead,” Silver replied. “We’ll have to wait and see. I’d like to watch that black horse run, though.”
Silver departed for Washington the next morning, and after saying their goodbyes to Captain Dillard, Nathan, Harley, Vivian, and the McQueens set out for New Orleans. Empty trotted ahead, often looking back to be sure Nathan was still there.
New Orleans July 25, 1879
Back at the McQueen place, roaming the woods with Empty and enjoying plenty of good food, Nathan put all thought of Huntsville prison behind him. He began practicing with his Colts, quickly recovering his skill and speed. But as much as he thought of the McQueens, and despite the fact that Vivian seemed to have found a home, Nathan became restless. While he consistently won money on Diablo, he became weary of horse racing and seldom shared Vivian’s excitement. When Barnabas began making plans for races in the spring of the next year, Nathan made up his mind. One day when they were alone, he spoke to Barnabas.
“Barnabas, there’s nowhere I’d rather be than right here, for a while. But come the first of the year, I’ll be ridin’ on.”
“I understand,” said Barnabas. “What about Vivian?”
“I want her to stay here with you and continue to do what she’s doing,” Nathan said.
“Have you spoke to her about it?”
“No,” said Nathan, “and I don’t know exactly how to suggest it. Do you?”
“Maybe,” Barnabas said. “I took a liking to Harley and suggested that he leave the railroad and throw in with us. Neither of us said anything to Vivian. No point in it, until he’s made up his mind.”
“That might be the answer,” said Nathan. “Working for the railroad, Harley’s gone a lot, and Vivian isn’t comfortable in a railroad town. That’s why I’ve kept her with me.”
The last day of August, Harley Stafford rode into the McQueen place. At the supper table, he explained what he had in mind.
“While we were in Houston, Barnabas invited me to get into horse racing,” Harley said, “and I’ve decided to do it. I’ve resigned from the railroad, and I have enough money saved to buy a couple more horses.”
“You won’t need any more horses,” said Vivian. “Use the money to hire yourselves a rider. When Nathan goes, I’m going with him.”
Harley looked helplessly at Barnabas, while Vivian turned questioning eyes on Nathan. Bess wisely retired to the kitchen. Supper ended on a sour note, and when they retired to their quarters for the night, Nathan expected a tirade from Vivian. She didn’t disappoint him.
“Just whose idea was this? If you don’t want me riding with you, then you could have just said so. You didn’t have to drag Harley into it.”
“Damn it,” said Nathan, “Barnabas told me he had suggested this to Harley, but never once did I think Harley would actually do it. When he rode in today, it was as much a surprise to me as it was to you. I told you, once Barnabas learned you could ride Diablo, he wouldn’t want you to leave.”
“Yes,” she admitted, “you did. But I didn’t expect him to go this far. Now what are we going to do?”
“I believe you should talk to Harley,” said Nathan. “Despite what you think of Barnabas, I doubt he could have talked Harley into it if Harley wasn’t interested. One thing that I’m sure of, where Harley’s concerned. He’s still carrying a load of guilt for having left you in Virginia when he came west. I’m not sure that isn’t part of his reason for accepting this proposal from Barnabas. Harley’s concern for you is genuine, and even if that’s his purpose for accepting McQueen’s offer, you shouldn’t be too hard on him.”
She sat down on the bed, burying her face in her hands. “I know he feels guilty, and if I thought Barnabas really wanted him here ...”
“You think Barnabas is luring Harley here so you’ll stay,” said Nathan.
“Yes,” Vivian said. “I can’t help it. How do you feel?”
“Barnabas McQueen’s one of the best friends I have in this world,” said Nathan, “but I’d have to agree with you. I’ve only been out of prison six weeks, and I’m already restless. Barnabas knows I’ll be riding out, and it’s not in his best interest for you to ride with me.”
“But it’s not fair to me, and it’s not fair to Harley. It’s not fair to me because he’s using Harley to try and keep me here, and it’s not fair to Harley because Barnabas doesn’t really need Harley. I believe Harley’s being used to keep me here, and I don’t like thinking of what it may do to him when he figures it out.”
“Whether you stay or not,” said Nathan, “suppose Barnabas really wants Harley here? Suppose he has plans for Harley? Would that change the way you feel?”
“Perhaps,” she admitted, “but how are we to know?”
“I’ll talk to Barnabas,” said Nathan, “and tell him how you feel. He’ll understand and respect your feelings. If Harley’s gone to bed, I’ll talk to Barnabas tonight.”
Nathan found Barnabas and Bess still at the kitchen table. Harley was absent. Nathan sat down and repeated to Barnabas what Vivian had told him. Barnabas laughed.
“Is that all that’s bothering her? Harley made me promise not to say anything to her until he’s had a chance to talk to her, and he’s going to do that in the morning.”
“Just to satisfy my curiosity,” Nathan said, “what are your plans for Harley?”
“Harley’s going to ride those two horses we brought back from San Antonio,” said Barnabas. “He’s tall and lanky enough to ride without a saddle, and he only weighs a hundred and fifty pounds. Harley rode with us to Houston for your trial, and I learned something about him that I don’t believe you and Vivian have noticed. Harley has that same touch with horses that Vivian does. By the time we reached Houston, Harley had made friends with Diablo. You know how long I’ve had that horse, and he just tolerates me. Give Harley Stafford a week or so, and he’ll be riding Diablo. I don’t know what the man has, but he’s a natural with horses. I think the world of Vivian, but if she doesn’t want to stay, then I believe Harley can take up the slack. I aim to prove it to her. On the fourth and fifth of October there are races in Beaumont. I’m planning for Vivian to ride Diablo in the Saturday race, but on Sunday, Harley will be riding Petalo, one of the horses we bought back from San Antonio.”
“And this is what Harley aims to tell Vivian?”
“Yes,” said Barnabas, “among other things. By the time you’re ready to ride out, I’ll have convinced Vivian that my invitation to Harley is honest, and I expect she will have learned something about him that she didn’t know.”
“And something I didn’t know,” Nathan said. “Vivian showed up in Dodge, broke and half starved, and I promised to help her find Harley. When we finally did—in Deadwood—Harley was on the bottle, bitter, and hating everybody. Not until he was shot up in a stage robbery did he begin to change.”15
“I don’t care what he was,” said Barnabas. “He has a feel for horses, and if I’m any judge, he’s going to make a name for himself as a rider.”
“I appreciate you telling me this,” Nathan said. “I won’t repeat any of it to Vivian, unless Harley has trouble convincing her.”
>
Nathan found Vivian sitting on the bed, where he had left her.
“Barnabas has convinced me,” Nathan said, “and Harley’s going to talk to you in the morning. I think you’re in for a pleasant surprise. Now will you go to bed or do you aim to set there and sulk?”
“Maybe I’ll just set here and sulk,” said Vivian. “If you ride out without me, you’ll be sleeping by yourself, so you might as well get used to it.”
Nathan laughed and blew out the lamp.
The next morning after breakfast, Nathan and the McQueens left Harley and Vivian at the table.
“I hope they can reach some agreement,” said Bess. “I hate seeing them on the outs with one another, us being the cause of it.”
“You’re not the cause of it,” Nathan said. “Harley’s doing what he wants to do, and from what Barnabas told me, he’s fully justified. But I’m not sure Vivian will believe him.”
“She’ll believe her own eyes,” said Barnabas. “After dinner, Harley’s going to prove to her he can ride.”
“He’s going to ride Petalo, then,” Nathan said.
“Petalo and Modelo,” said Barnabas. “But first, he’s going to ride Diablo.”
Nathan laughed in anticipation, but Harley didn’t look all that confident when he came into the parlor.
“Well?” Barnabas said.
“She still has her doubts,” said Harley. “I’m going to have to prove myself.”
After dinner, they went to the horse barn for the horses. Vivian led Diablo, Barnabas led Petalo, and Harley led Modelo. Nathan and Bess followed. The horses were led to an open field, to a cleared stretch where Vivian often rode Diablo. Without a word, Harley passed Modelo’s reins to Barnabas and turned to Vivian.
“I told you what I aim to do,” said Harley. “You still haven’t told me what you think.”
“I think you’re going to break your neck,” Vivian said.
Harley took Diablo’s reins from Vivian, and the horse looked at him, laying back his ears. Harley whistled a strange little tune, barely audible, and Diablo’s ears came up. Very slowly Harley approached the horse, and Diablo didn’t move, even when Harley placed his hand on the horse’s lean neck. Suddenly, Harley vaulted onto Diablo’s back, and before the horse could react, Harley leaned forward and spoke to Diablo. The horse broke into a fast gallop as Harley leaned forward, his lanky legs keeping him upright and steady. Just before reaching the woods, Harley wheeled the horse and Diablo came galloping back. Harley slid off, his arm around Diablo’s neck, grinning at Vivian.
Autumn of the Gun Page 12