Jailbreak
Page 23
Soup said, “I reckon it was, Shur’ff. Lord, wadn’t he a sight! I liked to have died laughin’ when you tied a tin can to his tail.”
I looked around at Ben. I said, “It appears we ain’t going to get much cooperation around here. Looks like we’ll have to tend to matters ourselves.”
The sheriff took his boots off the desk. They hit the floor with a clump. He said, “Now, as I understand it, ain’t none of y’all from around these here parts. That ’bout right? ”
I nodded. “That is exactly right.”
He said, “Then I reckon we ought to set matters straight. Ain’t a vote amongst you so I don’t be obliged to do shit for you. You get my drift?”
I said, as calm as I could, “Sheriff, it’s going on for nine of the morning. We’ve got a four o’clock train to catch this afternoon. We intend to be on it. But we also intend to clear our land of people who ain’t got no rights being on it before we catch that train. You get my drift?”
I had just about had enough, what with first one thing and then another, and I could feel the anger rising in me. Ben said, lowly, “Take it easy, Justa.”
The sheriff stuck a finger out at me. He said, “Listen, boy, you go to takin’ my law in yore hands in this here county an’ I’ll throw yore ass in jail. You understand me, boy?”
I said, “What did you call me?”
He said, “You heard me, boy.”
I said, “Watch my left, Ben.” Then I put both hands on the sheriff’s desk and leaned toward him. I said, “Now you understand me, old man. Don’t give me no trouble or I’ll put you in the cemetery, old man. Understand?”
He started to bluster but we were already backing for the door. I could see the one holding the shotgun looking for some sign from the sheriff. None was forthcoming. Ben and I just kept backing until we got to the door. I said, “Getting a little cut off what’s happening on my land are you, Sheriff?”
He didn’t answer, just kept watching us, his jaws working.
I said, “One last word. Don’t interfere.”
Then we turned out the door and made our way back to the hotel. Ben turned his head once to see if we were being followed, but I didn’t even bother. As far as I was concerned the sheriff was just a blowhard. And even if he wasn’t it didn’t make me much difference.
Back at the hotel I called everybody together and told them what had happened. Norris had a cat-with-cream look on his face but everybody else looked pretty grave. Lew said, “This is pretty serious business, Justa. That man is the sheriff.”
Ben said, “Yes, and that is our land.”
I said, “I ain’t real sure what we’re going to be running into. Hays, I might better send you out there to scout around. But you got to make it fast because we ain’t got a whole hell of a lot of time.”
Norris said, “No need for that. I can tell you. I’ve been there. And been run off. There are three desperado types and about a half a dozen peons who are building a fence and digging irrigation ditches. They had appeared to also be starting a little adobe house.”
I said, “Doesn’t matter what you’ve got to say. You’re not going.”
He stood up. “The hell I’m not!”
I said, coldly, “No, you’re not. You stay here where you can’t fuck things up no more.”
He went white in the face. He was hurt and it was a pleasure to me because I’d meant to hurt him. Ben said, “Justa, I’ve got to talk to you.”
“So talk.”
“Not here, out in the hall.”
He got up and went to the door and held it open. After another look at Norris I followed him as he stepped out into the hall and closed the door behind him. He said, with pretty fierce determination, “Dammit, Justa, ease up on him! You don’t know nothing about Nora yet. He’s your brother, goddammit! Now, you want to lose two brothers? If you do you just keep on at Norris like that.”
“You think I’m being unfair?”
“I think you are carrying it a little far. You reckon Norris don’t feel bad enough as it is?”
I said, grimly, “You weren’t in that jail with Hays and me when he wouldn’t come out of his cell.”
“All right. So that’s Norris. You’ve always known how he is. But you’ve got to give him another chance. You’ve got to let him go out there to that land with us. If you don’t you will hurt him mightily. Great Scott! How much you need to embarrass the man? How many times you figure to tell him off?”
I studied on the matter for a half a moment. Finally I said, “All right. He can go. But you will have to be the one to watch out for him. I won’t.”
He shook his head. He said, “Goddammit, Justa, sometimes I don’t understand how you can be so hard.”
“Comes easy,” I said. “You tell him.”
Once back in the room, I canvased the outfit to see how many lariat ropes we had. Turned out we didn’t have one. But then that wasn’t so surprising since we’d been going to get a man out of jail, not to work cattle. I sent Hays on the dead run to get four. I figured we was going to have to rope some fence and pull it down. You let folks get fence around your property and it belongs to them after about a year. That is if you let it stand. I didn’t plan to let any stand.
Waiting for him, we checked our gear, carefully examined our weapons and our supply of ammunition and then trooped on downstairs, our saddlebags over our shoulders. The manager came out to complain about our too-short stay but I assured him we’d be right on back in the future. I said, “I’ve got some real-estate holdings down here and I’ll be coming back from time to time to check on them.”
“Aaah,” he said, just like he knew what I was talking about.
I paid us out. I still had to use those peso notes and I taken a pretty good beating on the exchange rate but there wasn’t anything I could do about that. But it served to remind me that I’d promised Jack Cole five hundred dollars for his help and I meant to see that he got it. I didn’t have time to go over to the infirmary, at least not right at that moment, but I did ask the manager if he’d send a boy to hunt Jack out and have him meet us at the train depot sometime between three and four. That was if he was able.
We all went on over to the livery stable. The horses didn’t look too bad and they weren’t facing a bad day’s work, but I knew that mine, at least, would be glad to see that green grass of Matagorda County and get in some serious rest.
We saddled up and rode out. Going past the sheriff’s office, I tried to see if he was still in attendance, but I couldn’t tell a thing through the window. It didn’t make me a damn one way or the other, not the mood I was in. He wasn’t going to stop me from protecting my property and he and I both knew it.
We got out of town and turned east down the river road. Ben got up alongside me and inquired if there was any plan. I said, “Yeah. Shoot the first son of a bitch that even looks like he wants to get a gun in his hand. Remember, they are on our land. They are trespassers. They got no rights.”
He digested that and then he said, “You ask after a telegram before we left the hotel?”
I said, “Nope.”
“Why not?”
“Didn’t expect one. And I reckon they’d have mentioned it if one was to have come. And you might do me the favor of leaving the damn subject alone. I got other business to tend to right now.”
He spit over the side of his horse, away from me. He said, “What’d you have for breakfast, prickly pears?”
I was not exactly sure where the land was, it having been some time since I’d bothered with the place. It pained me but I had no choice except to call Norris forward and ask him to point out where our land was.
He said, in a little drier voice than I thought necessary, “I’ve already mentioned they are digging an irrigation ditch from the river. It runs right through the middle of the property. When I was here before it was about three-quarters fenced. Not good fencing, just single-strand. Something like they didn’t intend to hold cattle very long. It is just up the way.�
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“Fine,” I said. “You stay in the back and keep quiet. And don’t even have a gun in hand until I do.”
He wheeled away without a word. Ben give me a look but didn’t say anything. But hell, I would have said that to Norris on any occasion.
We rode on. About a half a mile further there, sure enough, was the irrigation ditch. It wasn’t much—about four feet across and anywhere from a foot to two foot deep. But for land as dry as ours what little water it did bring would be a welcome relief and was liable to make the place green up like the coastal plains. Even from where we sat I could see that the water, little as it was, was having an effect.
It appeared they’d just about finished the fencing. There was a gate, a gap really, with some wire strung across it and I could see corner posts and wire running off in a northerly direction. Five thousand acres ain’t much, but it’s a fair amount of ground to go poking around in when you don’t know who or what you’re looking for.
I took down my lariat rope and shook out a loop. I said, “Let’s get this gate down and some of this fence.”
Ben and Hays and Lew threw about the same time I did. The fence posts were just little crooked cedar shafts, not even set very deep in the ground. It wasn’t any kind of strain on my horse to pull them out. Hays and I rode one way and Ben and Lew rode the other, letting the wire pull the posts up as we went. After we had about a hundred yards jerked up in either direction I called a halt and lifted off my loop from the pole I had it secured to, coiled it and hung it back on my saddle. When the others were ready I said, “Let’s go and see what we got here. Stay together but don’t bunch up. Stay strung out. I’ll take the middle. Ben, you and Lew each take a flank. Let’s move slow.”
We followed the little irrigation ditch. It went on for a surprisingly long time. The river was low and so there wasn’t much water in it, but I could see from the way the land sloped that it would be effective. Here and there, little side-ditches had been dug, running off through the stunted mesquite.
We began to see signs of cattle—manure piles and hoof-prints. I said, “Well, it’s pretty plain what we got here.”
Ben said, “Yes, they are holding Mexican cattle here, either stolen ones or cattle they don’t want to take through Immigration.”
Norris said, quietly, “I could already have told you that. If anyone had cared to ask.”
I didn’t bother to even glance at him. I said, “And unless I miss my guess the sheriff is in with them.”
Norris said, “I could have told you that, too. If anybody had cared to ask.”
This time I did turn in the saddle and give him a look. But he just stared serenely ahead, not bothering to even notice.
After about a hundred yards, just ahead, I could see the white clothes of some campesinos, peons, working on the ditch. I wasn’t worried about them, but I knew there’d be pistoleros around somewhere. I drew my handgun and nodded for the others to do the same.
One of the problems with that country was that the low mesquite and briar bushes were so thick. They weren’t very high, but it was difficult to see any great distance. We put the horses into a trot, following the cleared land on each side of the ditch. We were on the peons before they knew what was going on. They looked up in some astonishment but didn’t seem particularly afraid. They were all armed with pick and shovel and were patiently and laboriously hacking out a trench through the hard caleche clay and dirt. One thing a peon has got is patience. You can put him to digging a hole and, if you don’t think to go back and stop him, he’ll keep digging all day and all night. Whoever said Mexicans were lazy had never seen a peon work.
We pulled up. They leaned on their tools and stared at us. I said to Lew, “Ask them where their bosses are and how many there are and how many guns they got and anything else you can think of.”
Lew picked him out one that looked to be a cut above the rest and let go with a string of Spanish. They volleyed back and forth for a few minutes and then the peon sort of pointed off toward the northeast corner of the pasture. Lew said, “He says the men are over in a little house they have built taking the comida, eating. Or drinking. Or sleeping. He ain’t sure. He says there are two gringos and one Mexican. He says sometimes two other men come to bring cattle but these two stay all the time. He says they got plenty of guns.”
I said, “Well, let’s just walk that way.”
We started through the brush, going slowly and keeping a sharp eye out. I didn’t particularly care to get ambushed on my own land. After a bit we began seeing cattle. They weren’t immediately obvious in the heavy brush, but they were obviously Mexican cattle. I saw a lot of different ear markings which indicated the cattle hadn’t all come from any one herd. That meant they were more than likely stolen.
After a bit we came to the little shack. It was just an adobe affair, but it had a nice roof of those red tiles that Nora had wanted. That give me a pang. But there was no time for such thinking. There was a little clearing around the house and three saddled horses tied out front. I could see several more in a small corral in the back. I said, lowly, “Let’s get down. Norris, you hold the horses. And keep them quiet. Lew, you and Hays spread out and stay down. I don’t want them to see you. I ain’t exactly sure how to flush them out of that house, but I don’t want them to think they are outgunned. Ben, I want you right behind me, but crouched down out of sight.”
He said, “You ain’t just going to walk up there?”
I stood up and stepped into the clearing. I’d already holstered my gun. I said, “You know a better way?”
I took a couple of steps forward and halloed the house. I was only about thirty yards away and I was cold meat for a rifle shot, but so far as I could see, the little cabin didn’t have any windows, at least not at the front. The door was open, but I’d be able to see if anyone tried to sneak a shot around the frame and have plenty of time to hit the dirt before anyone could fire. I stopped and yelled at the house again. A man suddenly appeared in the door opening. He had a rifle in his hand, but he wasn’t pointing it at me. He said, “What the hell you want? And what the hell you doing on this land? Git the hell off.”
I took a couple of steps more forward. I said, “I got a message for you from Sheriff Gadley. Come out and talk. ”
He said, “Yeah?” Then he turned his head and said something to someone inside. He said to me, “I kin hear you from here. Speak yore piece.”
I said, “My name is Justa Williams. You are trespassing on my land. I’ll give you exactly ten minutes for you and your stolen cattle to get off my land.”
He stared at me for a second. Then, suddenly, there was another man in the doorway. He too had a rifle but he was having trouble getting a shot at me because the first man was slightly blocking his way. I fell forward, drawing as I did. Thirty yards is a little long for accurate handgun shooting but I fired three times. I saw the first man go down. Behind me I heard a sudden burst of fire as the others let go. The second man fell, staggering backwards into the cabin. I yelled, “Keep firing through that door before somebody can shut it!”
Even though the cabin was adobe, that mud can get pretty hard, and I was counting on ricochets. We put about fifteen rounds through the door opening and then something white fluttered out. I yelled, “Stop! Hold your fire!”
We waited and then a man came staggering out. I could see blood on his shirt. He had a rifle in one hand and a revolver in the other but they were both over his head. “Don’t shoot!” he said. “I give.”
I eased forward. “Then just drop those weapons and keep walking toward me.”
He done as he was told. As he got closer I could see he wasn’t much more than a kid, eighteen or nineteen maybe. You could tell he was poor white trash and he’d probably—if somebody didn’t kill him first—grow up to be old, poor white trash. I’d seen a hundred of his kind along the border.
He said, in a kind of whiny voice, “I never knowed this was nobody’s land, mister. Honest I didn’t.”
The kid started in to whine again. He said, “I cain’t do no work. I’m hurt, hurt bad. Cain’t you see that?”
“You are fixing to get dead if you don’t do as you’re told,” I said.
When the two dead men were loaded and Ben and Lew had brought up the two horses from the back, I told the kid to take off his boots.
He said, “What?”
I said, “You get shot in the ear? TAKE OFF YOUR GODDAM BOOTS!”
Well, that fetched his attention. He sat down on the ground and did as he was bid. With some satisfaction I noticed he wasn’t wearing socks. I said, “Now start walking.”
He stared at me a second. Hays laughed. I cocked my pistol. The boy moved, putting one foot gingerly in front of another on the rocky ground. But he was going toward the river. I said, “No, not that away.” I pointed with my pistol. “North. Straight north. And don’t even look back over your shoulder. Just keep walking. And I don’t reckon I have to tell you not to come back this way.”
He gave me a sullen look. “You stealin’ my horse?”
“He’ll be in town,” I said. “Waiting for you. You are just loaning him to me.”
He wanted to cuss me but he didn’t dare. We watched him making his painful way through the brush until his head had disappeared from sight. I picked up his rifle and revolver and slung them off in the brambles where they’d never be found. Then I said, “Mount up. We got to go to a funeral.”
The campesinos went to work on the job of burying the two pistoleros with the same patient approach they’d taken toward the irrigation ditch. I watched them making the holes for the late departed and thought about the little adobe house with its tile roof. I had no doubt my house wasn’t finished. A thought kept coming back to me. It was about that time that we heard the sound of horses approaching. We were all still mounted, watching the peons, kind of ringed around the graves. I looked up and here came Sheriff Gadley with two deputies in attendance. He didn’t even bother to say any kind of greeting, just pulled out a pistol and said, “You bunch is under arrest.”