by Mari Collier
Her apron was on and her face flushed. Worry lines were pulling down her mouth as she looked at Rolfe and the unexpected visitors. “What is it?” Her tone implying that she knew something was wrong. Gerde never learned to like anything about the West. Her youth and her son had died here. The heat was intolerable in summer, the constant fear of Indians and the wild, white inhabitants, the long wait for der Pastor to ride into town, and the loss of relatives and friends who spoke German and read books written in German was a hurt too deep to articulate.
Rolfe disregardedGerde's fears as he wished to impart his news to the man, not the woman. That his daughter accepted the news with equanimity and a readiness to shoot on sight was expected. Rolfe had years ago realized that Olga was more like him than his sons. He doffed his hat and spoke in German.
“Frau Schmidt, good day. The news is not good, but I must speak with Herr Schmidt first. The three of us will need to stay for dinner, but if you prefer, we can get something from Owens.”
“Come in, Mr. Rolfe. Of course, you are all welcome at our table. I'll get Mr. Schmidt.”
At these words, Kasper appeared as though summoned. He had heard the horses arrive and his wife talking. “Welcome, Mr. Rolfe. How may we help you?”
Rolfe looked at him with the knowledge that the scholar would be of little help and gave his warning, still speaking in German. “There are two hired gunmen coming to kill you and Gerde. O'Neal is probably paying them, but we don't have any proof. I've got Lorenz with me and the youngster that brought the news. Mac found him by the roadside. Be careful when you talk to him as he probably baked out what little brains he had. He'd been riding for two days without water.” Rolfe shook his head at the folly and continued. “The boys are putting up the horses, and I'm going to tell Mr. Jackson and the Owens group what to expect. I don't think they'll be here before morning.” He turned and stalked out of the door, leaving two white-faced adults staring after him.
Rolfe visited Tom Jackson just long enough to apprise him of the coming situation and requested that Tom simply wait and watch when the two men appeared and then join Owens in the bar if they needed to make a stand. From there he went to talk to Owens and stayed long enough for one beer. Owens, he knew, would tell Cruz and his women what to expect.
When he walked back into the Schmidt's living quarters, Chalky was telling them about the bad men that were with his Ma'am and the warning she had given him. Gedre had regained her composure, but was more tight-lipped than usual. Kasper, he decided was still far too white around the mouth. He nodded at them all and spoke.
“Ve need to check out the store and vhere ve vill be.” He led the way through the short hall and stood looking at the door, the window by the counter, and the door to the left, slightly behind the counter that led to the office.
“Ve vill leave dot office door open,” he decided. “I can stand behind it. They can't see me if they look in der vindow.”
“I figure they'll come in the front door to check things out. If they don't, they'll be barging in the kitchen door. Vhen ve hear dem, I vant du, Gerde, to go upstairs vhile ve take our positions. Du vill be safe up there.”
Gerde gave Rolfe an intractable stare and crossed her arms under her breasts. Lorenz had a hunch that Gerde was not going to allow any interloper into her domain. Rolfe, however, was oblivious to the female of the species and continued his instructions.
He had been studying the tables and shelves. The first table was really a counter with storage space underneath hidden by doors. “Dot's vere du'll be,” he said to Lorenz. “Vhen they come in, stand and shoot.”
Kasper started as though shot. “No, that is wrong,” he spoke rapidly in German. “I will be standing behind the counter and will be able to determine if they are intent upon murder, or whether they are someone else.”
Rolfe looked at him in disgust and spoke in German. “Yes, just stand there while they shoot you. This is not the time to put the best construction on everything, no matter what Dr. Luther taught.”
Lorenz was looking at his uncle in horror. Did the man want to die? And why was Rolfe talking about some doctor? Chalky stood there, blinking his eyes and trying to figure out what these folks were saying.
Kasper tried again. “I cannot permit my nephew, a mere boy, to do my job; nor perhaps, murder someone unjustly.”
“I ain't no kid,” Lorenz protested. “And from what Chalky said, these two ain't to be fooled with. They're not the kind to leave anyone alive.” He hoped like hell Chalky didn't catch that last meaning.
The adults looked at him with the realization that he understood German. Rolfe pursed his lips, and continued in German. “Good, you understand Deutsch.”
He turned to Kasper. “Kap, I can't stop you from being a block head and standing at the window and making Gerde a widow, but I came here as a favor to Mac, and I'm not getting killed for it. Lorenz is here as a favor to me from Mac, and I'm not letting some fool thinking get him killed. Mac knows why Lorenz is here. It won't be the first time your nephew has killed a man; it probably isn't the second, and it won't be the last.”
Rolfe turned to Lorenz. “You know what you're to do.”
“Yes, sir.” No use arguing. Rolfe was right: Stand and shoot.
“Good. When we hear the door open, you stand and fire. I'll step out from behind that door and fire with the shotgun.”
“I should be where Lorenz has been assigned.” Kasper was still protesting.
“Have you ever killed anyone?” Rolfe roared.
“No, but I will if necessary.”
Rolfe cut him off. “It's different when you are looking at a man. If you see a man and not a target, you are dead. Your nephew knows how to kill a man.”
Kasper stepped towards Rolfe. “I cannot allow…”
Lorenz broke in, interrupting his Uncle, the drawl he spoke with disappearing. “I don't like the idea of Tante Gerde going upstairs. What if they start s fire? They're either going to come in the front or the backdoor. If Tante and Chalky stay in the storage part they should be okay, and we can drag in a box from there for Uncle to hide behind in the kitchen. That way our backs are covered.”
Lorenz turned to look at his uncle. “If y'all ain't used to shootin', then you can use the shotgun. It'll stop them long enough for us to get out there.”
Rolfe's eyes lighted and he spoke in English. “I like du, poy. Ve go hunting sometime. Right now, du practice getting your aim about right, and I'll gauge my distance.” He stalked into the office.
They watched as Rolfe stepped out from behind the door and pointed his shotgun. Then he walked over to the counter, measured the height with his body, shook his head, and went back behind the door. He emerged again holding the gun at a slightly higher angle and sighted. “Dot should do it. It vill hit about chest high. I'd take Lorenz's place, but my knees might creek vhen I stand. Ve take turns vatching tonight just in case. Lorenz takes first vatch, then Kap. Kap vill vake me at four o'clock if I ain't up already. Now ve go find that crate vhile Mrs. Schmidt fixes us something to eat.”
Lorenz never discovered what his uncle thought of the arrangements and he didn't want to know. He was just glad he didn't have to stand there and tell him that Rolfe was right. It wouldn't be the first or the second man he had killed. Somehow he knew Uncle would be disappointed with his character. Just why this was so, Lorenz couldn't fathom. He would always feel there was something more in life to accomplish and the other person was trying to kill him or hurt someone he loved; therefore, the other man forfeited his life. He correctly assumed that Uncle Kasper was a gentle, stubborn man, while not afraid of danger, could not in his heart bring harm to another living being. In some ways, Lorenz felt, Mama was more hardened than her twin.
The sun did not go down easy that evening. Protesting fingers of fire stabbed at the sky while red coals glowed in the belly of grey clouds. Lorenz was squatting on the roof, listening for horse hoofs that might or not come this night.
He had eaten di
nner and cleaned his rifle and Uncle Kap's two shotguns before heading up. Dinner had been a hurried affair of beans mixed with a stew and rolls of some kind, sourdough, Lorenz guessed. Chalky was in a state of shock. He didn't understand the speech and he couldn't begin to comprehend the scope of the food available. At first he had pushed at the mixture in his bowl and then almost inhaled it when he realized no one was going to take it away.
Gerde, sour-faced and taciturn, had gone about cleaning up the kitchen after they ate and making sure the crate was positioned for Kasper's advantage should something happen overnight. Somehow she managed to infect them all with her dour mood. Chalky had escaped to the stable to turn in early.
When Lorenz headed for the roof, Kasper said, “The clouds will keep it dark tonight. How will you see? Would you like me to come with you now?”
Lorenz thought fast. “Thanks, Uncle Kap, but I don't think they'll be here until morning. If they do come, they can't see any better than we can and I can hear their horses.” He did not want to listen to Kap's admonition to not be in the storefront tomorrow. He just hoped Tante Gerde would keep Chalky out of the way in the morning.
Kasper looked troubled when he appeared at midnight with his shotgun. Lorenz headed for the stable and sleep. Later he heard Kasper appear in the barn and Rolfe bid him 'morgen,' and tried to go back to a fitful sleep. Lorenz gave up trying after one-half hour and headed toward the outhouse. Filtered sunlight was trying to break through the clouds with limited success. The air hung heavy with humidity and heat, but there was no sound of far-off thunder to offer relief in a coming rain.
He had paused long enough to shake Chalky awake and went inside. Tante Gerde had breakfast ready. Huge biscuits and gravy, the same sort of apple butter Mama served, and coffee. Lorenz headed up the stairs and boosted himself through the access door and ladder to tell Rolfe that breakfast was ready. Rolfe nodded at him and said, “Du und your uncle vill eat too. Mitt daylight they might see us up on the roof. Ve'll get into position as soon as possible. I don't think they'll vait for normal business hours.”
It was not a long wait. Lorenz had sat hunkered down on his heels, figuring that if he sat cross legged he would need more space to unlimber his rifle. He had chased all worry about his mother and Martin out of his mind. He was intent on listening and he heard the two horses long before the men walked in shortly after six o'clock. He had used mindsearch to see if these two were the ones Chalky had told about. What he found made it easy to want to pull the trigger. He had to figure out some way to keep Chalky from going home.
The two men didn't bother to knock. They ignored the “Closed” sign propped in the door and walked in. One of them bellowed, “Anyone up. We need to buy some supplies.”
Lorenz heard the door close behind them and he stood, his back against the wall, and brought his rifle in line with the counter by the door with one swift, sure motion. His eyes and brain registered the sight of the two men, one slightly in front of the other, and he fired. The other man brought his rifle up as Lorenz ducked down, and Rolfe stepped through the door and shot. The man bringing up his rifle also fired, but the shot went over the counter where Lorenz had been.
Lorenz heard Rolfe's shotgun hit the counter or the floor, and he duck walked his way to the front of the counter, peered around the edge, and saw that Rolfe was headed around the end of the counter, handgun in his left hand and bowie knife in the right. Rolfe was upright and fired two shots from the handgun, one into each man. Lorenz stood and saw the two bodies lying in their own fluids and wastes. A stench started filling the air spaces as Rolfe stuffed his handgun in his waistband and knocked the hat off the second man, bent, and took his scalp.
Metal scrapped against the door jamb of the hall, and Lorenz whirled to find a white-faced Kasper standing there. Kasper must have realized what Rolfe was doing and while his mouth formed a protest he sagged against the jamb, his grey eyes wide in disbelieve.
“Du vant the other von's hair, poy?”
“Ah, no thanks, Mr. Rolfe. Ah don't think Mama would let it in the house.”
“Den ve pull these two out of here. Mrs. Schmidt vill fuss about der mess. Ve don't vant to hear about making vork for her.” Rolfe grabbed the man by his heels and pulled him around. “Vone of du open the door.”
Inwardly Lorenz was breathing a sigh of relief as he moved to the door and pulled it open. He wedged his rifle against the door and walked back to the other form, grabbed the legs, and followed Rolfe out the door; neither of them looked at Kasper leaning against the jamb of the hall opening, unable to move. Kasper's face was twisting from pain and white was outlining his mouth. He let the shotgun fall on the floor and kept trying to fight down the pain and nausea that seemed to radiate from the inside out.
They dragged the bodies into the shade of the overhangs. Rolfe dropped the legs and immediately pulled the boots off. “Du best do the same. These boots are vorth keeping or letting Kasper sell them for a cut.” He stooped down and flipped off the man's hat and then the belt before going through the pockets and dumping the contents into the man's hat.
Lorenz watched for a moment, a bad taste forming in his mouth, and then he shrugged, bent down, and began the same procedure on the body in front of him. It wasn't like he hadn't stripped a dead man before.
Tom Jackson and Owens came running from the tavern, the Mexican following behind them. Jackson rested his crutch at the head of the man Lorenz was stripping and said, “Well, y'all got them.”
Rolfe looked up. “Ja, that poy shoots plenty gut.”
“Where's Kasper? I heard five shots.”
“He's still inside; probably calming his missus.” Rolfe didn't bother to add the wrong twin got the balls. Thoughts like that were better left unsaid. “Vone did get off a shot, but it vent vild. Vhat's this?”
He pulled a thin, leather folder out from under the man's shirt. Inside was a page of thin paper, stamped with a seal. Rolfe ran his eyes over the writing. “Mein Gott, O'Neal vrote out a contract for them.” He waved the paper in the air, folded it, put in back in the leather folder, and handed it to Lorenz. “Here take this to Herr Schmidt. He'll get over the dead bodies quicker. I'll finish that vone for du and for Mac.”
Lorenz took the folder, glad to be away from the stink of dead bodies, and hurried inside. He glanced around the empty store and continued into the kitchen. His aunt was carrying a glass of water to the living room, her face set, her brown, work shift swaying from her rapid steps. She raked Lorenz with a baleful look and disappeared into the doorway.
“Here, mein Herr, drink this,” her tone was so soft Lorenz barely heard her. This was so unlike Tante's usual sharp tongue, he almost tiptoed into the room, holding the leather folder out like a peace offering.
Uncle Kasper was on the sofa; his shoes on the floor, an afghan covering his lower body and part of his torso. On his forehead was a wet washcloth, and earlier someone had placed a pillow underneath his head and shoulders. Kasper's face was still a deathly pallor and his mouth drawn in a taunt line. He opened his eyes and whispered, “I need a bucket.”
Tante swung her gaze on Lorenz. “It's his heart. He's not to move. The bucket is just outside the kitchen door. Get it.” She turned her attentions back to her husband.
Lorenz set the folder down on the side table and retrieved the bucket for them. He'd seen men die in lots of ways, but never in their own home. He brought the bucket and realized he still wore his new hat. He pulled it off and looked down at the two, Tante Gerde kneeling on the floor, using the glass of water to wet the washcloth which she was using to sponge Uncle's face. “Is he gonna be all right?”
“Ja,” Gerde answered. “He must rest. Go away.”
Lorenz backed towards the door. “There's proof there that they was being paid by O'Neal.” He spun and headed back outside where the air was fresh and easier to breathe and sudden death easier to understand.
“Vat they say?” asked Rolfe.
Lorenz rapidly described the situa
tion inside. He figured somebody ought to go tell Mama and Papa what had happened. “Maybe I should ride home and tell them what's happened,” he ended.
Rolfe considered. “Nein, ve got to dig some graves.” He weighed the money he'd found in one man's pocket and looked at Lorenz. “There vas money in the other guy's pocket, ja?”
“Yeah, about four two-bit pieces and a couple of bills.”
“Dot's enough. Ve pay Kasper for a tarp, cut it down, and vrap them in it for a burial shroud. Let's see vhat they got on their horses.”
“Uh, I'll be happy to hitch up and go tell Miss Rolfe and the MacDonald's that everything is all right here, and about Kasper,” Jackson offered. “Business is kinda slow anyway.”
Rolfe's blue eyes swept over Jackson and amusement tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Ve vould appreciate that, Tom. Come next veek, ve may haff some shoeing for du und du can join us for a meal.”
Jackson nodded, swiveled on his crutch, and set off for the stable. Rolfe and Lorenz quickly removed the contents of the saddlebags. Each contained their camp gear, a shirt, an extra pair of trousers, and a clean bandana, but little food. “I bet they vere going to get supplies here und kill the Schmidts before paying.” Rolfe spat at the ground. “Ve go get the tarp. That poy can put up the horses and guard the trappings from them on the back porch. It'll keep him out of our vay.”
Lorenz followed Rolfe figuring it wouldn't be long before Rolfe found an excuse to let him do all the digging while he went for a beer. He was seriously thinking about offering Chalky money to do the digging, but realized he didn't have any. Rolfe would insist that everything they'd emptied out of the men's pockets belonged to Rolfe or MacDonald. He was thankful he'd paid attention when Martin was telling him about how everything belonged to the Papa until the Papa said otherwise.
He was half right about Rolfe. Rolfe waited until they'd dug the hole out wide enough for both men and lowered them into the ground. They started piling the dirt back in when Rolfe squinted at the sky and declared it was time for a beer. He looked at Lorenz. “Du vant vone, poy?”