“Mornin’,” Sonny returned and handed him a list. “Here’s some things we need to pick up, if you’ve got ’em all. ’Course, that’s after you take care of those big orders ahead of me.”
Ben laughed. “Shirley’s taking care of the peppermint business.” He nodded in his wife’s direction. She was busy handing out the candy. Ben glanced briefly at Sonny’s list before saying, “I think we’re got everything you want here.” He started pulling the items off his shelves and placing them on the counter while Sonny amused himself watching the kids work on the peppermint sticks.
It served to quiet the children as their attention was occupied with the slow sucking of the candy sticks, the object of which was to make them last as long as possible. It resulted in a sharpening of one end of the peppermint until it broke off. Once that was chewed and swallowed they started on the stump until it was sucked into a sharp point, and so on until the stick was totally consumed.
It was a new experience for Link and he was enjoying it as much as the other kids. Although his father had run a trading post, he had never had any call for candy of any kind. Among his usual customers, he’d seldom seen any children.
While Sonny and Jimmy loaded the supplies in the wagon, Link stood near the door, working on his peppermint stick with the Gates children, each one trying to make his candy last the longest. Link saw right away that seven-year-old Betsy was going to be tough to beat, for she was simply licking the candy so ladylike. His piece of peppermint was already worn down to an inch or two. The kids paused in the competition to move out of the way when two adults came in the door.
“You might as well give up,” Henry said to him. “Nobody ever beats Betsy. I don’t think she even likes candy.”
Robby and Betsy laughed at the remark, but stopped, astonished when Link stood staring as if frozen. His peppermint dropped from his hand and he made no move to catch it, standing like a statue, with his eyes like saucers. Then, without a word, he suddenly ran out the door.
“Link!” Henry called after him, but Link didn’t respond, so they ran after him. With no word to Sonny or Jimmy, he ran by the wagon and climbed on his horse, then wheeled the paint and galloped away toward the road to the Triple-G.
“What in the world . . . ?” Sonny asked, startled. “What’s eatin’ him?”
“I don’t know,” Henry said. “Just all of a sudden, he went crazy. Like a bee or something stung him.”
Surprised, but not as shocked as the others, six-year-old Robby bent down and picked up the small stump left of Link’s peppermint stick. When Betsy screwed up her face in disgust, Robby put the sticky piece of candy in his pocket. “Link might still want it,” he explained.
“Come on, young’uns,” Sonny told his charges. “We’d best get on our way back home.” Since he was responsible for the children, he worried about Link’s strange behavior, and was anxious to find Link. At least he had raced off on the road to the Triple-G. Maybe they would catch up with him along the way. Sonny was especially concerned about the way Link had whipped that horse into a gallop, not certain how well the boy could ride. He hustled the children again. “Come on. We gotta get goin’.”
“We ain’t even walked around the whole town yet,” Jimmy complained. “I thought we were gonna stay a little while before we started home.”
“You mean so you can peek under the saloon door to try to get a look at some of them painted ladies that work there?” Sonny accused. “We ain’t got time for that mischief. Get ready to ride.”
“I didn’t think no such a thing,” Jimmy insisted, even though that was on his list of things he wanted to do. It was plain to see that Sonny wasn’t going to give in on the issue, so he went to his horse while the younger kids climbed into the wagon.
Inside the store, one of the customers who had walked in just before the children filed outside, asked Ben a question. “You got any dried apples?”
“You’re gonna turn into a dried apple,” the gruff-looking woman with him declared, a prediction she voiced often.
Junior looked at her and grinned. “I like dried apples, Aunt Clem.”
“What’d I tell you about callin’ me that?” Clementine responded.
“I forgot,” Junior quickly replied. “I didn’t mean to do it.”
“I’ve got dried apples,” Henderson said. “How many you need?” He realized right away that the huge man’s brain was nowhere near the size of his head.
“Give him a pound of ’em.” Clementine watched Henderson as he weighed out a pound from the barrel of dried apples, paused to let her see the scale, then dropped a couple more in the bag. Clementine nodded to acknowledge his gesture of fair measure. “Maybe you can tell us somethin. We met a feller in Atoka that claimed his family was in the cattle business near here. Me and Junior are just passin’ through town, but if I knew where to find him, I’d like to say hello. ’Course we had all had a few drinks, so he mighta been japin’ us about his ranchin’ business. His name’s Perley Gates.”
“Perley?” Ben replied at once and broke out a wide smile. “Sure, Perley’s in the cattle business, all right. The Triple-G is one of the biggest outfits in this part of Texas. Him and his brothers run it.”
“Well, I’ll be . . . ,” Clementine started. “Whaddaya know, Junior, ol’ Perley warn’t japin’ us a’tall. Ain’t that somethin’?” Back to Henderson, she said, “I was gonna ask the sheriff about Perley, but it didn’t look like there was anybody in there when we rode by.”
That brought a chuckle from Henderson. “No, I reckon not. We don’t get to use that little jailhouse very often. Once in a while there’ll be some drunk who needs to sleep it off, so the sheriff will put him in the cell and let him go the next morning. I’m proud to say we don’t need one too often, so we’ve only got a part-time sheriff. Paul McQueen took the job. He’s the blacksmith, but he does a pretty good job when we need a sheriff.”
“Sounds like you got yourself a peaceful little town here,” Clementine said. “We might be seein’ you again before long. Which way would I ride to find the Triple-G?”
“The ranch house is about five miles north of town. It’s not hard to find. Just follow that trail that leads out between the stable and the barbershop. Matter of fact, that fellow driving the wagon with the young’uns in it is going to the Triple-G. They just left when you folks walked in.”
“Much obliged,” Clementine said. “Maybe we’ll catch up with ol’ Perley for sure.”
Outside the store, Clementine said, “Don’t look like we’re gonna have any trouble findin’ Perley Gates a’tall.”
When Junior asked if they were going to kill him right away, Clementine took the time to explain. She was much more patient with the slow-witted gunman, now that she thought her prey was at hand.
“First, we’re gonna take a look at the Triple-G and see how many men we might hafta deal with. If I know Coleman Cobb, we might put the Triple-G outta business for good.”
Brice had been Coleman’s pride and joy. He would demand a big price in dead bodies to pay for the loss of his son. The thought of it caused the pitiless woman’s heart to beat with excitement, but it would take some time before she and her brothers could get ready to plan the destruction of the Triple-G. It was two days’ ride from Paris to the family’s hideout northwest of Tyler—four days in the saddle before they could return.
She would like to start home right away, but thought it important that she and Junior scout the Triple-G to see what the Cobbs would have to deal with. She wanted to be able to tell Coleman and Beau where the headquarters was located and where they grazed their cattle.
“Get on your horse,” she said to Junior. “Let’s catch up with that wagon.”
* * *
Unable to think of anything beyond the shock of seeing the monsters who had murdered his mother and father yet again, Link’s only reaction was to find Perley as fast as he could. He held the paint to a full gallop for almost two miles before his terrified mind reminded him t
hat he was running the horse to death. Reluctantly, he reined the rapidly tiring horse back to a walk, dismounted, and led it, walking as fast as he could. He was not really sure how long he should let the horse walk before he could push it again. He remembered Jimmy telling him that the horse would let him know when he was rested enough to trot, and that he could go a long distance at a trot.
Link didn’t want to hurt the horse—the paint was his. Perley had said it was. He arrived at the barn at a trot. As soon as he slid off the paint’s back, however, he ran as fast as he could into the barn, looking for Perley.
“What is it, boy?” Fred Farmer asked, seeing the look of panic in Link’s eyes.
“Perley!” Link blurted. “Where’s Perley?”
“He ain’t here,” Fred answered. “What’s wrong? Where’s Jimmy and Sonny?” When Link seemed unable to reply, he tried to calm him. “Take it easy, boy. Did somethin’ happen? Are the other kids in trouble?”
“I’ve gotta tell Perley,” Link insisted. “Where’s Perley?”
“Perley’s down near the river, lookin’ for strays,” Fred said. “Now, why don’t you calm down a little and tell me what happened, and maybe I can help you.”
After a few moments, Link began to calm down. Now that he had reached the safety of the ranch, he began to recover from the initial shock of seeing the demons who’d killed his parents. “It’s them!” he said to Fred. “They’re in town right now. I need to tell Perley.”
“Who’s in town?” Fred asked.
“Those people that killed my ma and pa!” Link answered.
Fred wasn’t really sure what to do about the situation. Like Link, he wished Perley was there. Maybe the boy just saw somebody who looked like the ones that killed his folks. Perley had told them that the one member of the gang who had escaped had probably put as much distance as he could behind him after he got shot. The leader of the gang was the woman, Clementine, and she was locked up in Atoka, waiting for a deputy to take her to trial.
Fred decided he’d best tell Rubin and let him deal with it. He had started to take Link up to the house when Sonny and the other kids rolled into the barnyard. His first thought was relief upon seeing his son riding in beside the wagon, then he noticed that there seemed to be no urgency on Sonny’s part as he pulled up beside the barn.
“What in the world got into you?” Sonny exclaimed to Link.
Feeling somewhat safer in the bosom of the Triple-G, Link repeated the story he had just told Fred.
When he had finished, Sonny asked, “Are you sure you saw those same people?”
Link assured him that the two he saw in Henderson’s store were two of the murderers. He told Sonny that he would never forget the woman.
“Maybe he’s right. Maybe we’d best go find Perley. I’ll saddle a horse. I know where he might be—down there where Muskrat Creek runs out to the river. There’s a mighty soft bottom right there that cows get stuck in once in a while. Perley always checks that out.”
“That’s a good idea,” Fred agreed. “Perley will know what to do.” He paused when he thought about it, then added, “If we oughta do anything about it, might be, Paul McQueen’s who we oughta tell. He’s the sheriff. Give him somebody to put in that jail besides drunks.”
“What would he arrest ’em for?” Sonny asked, “Unless they were robbin’ the store.” He lowered his voice, so that only Fred could hear him. “Link could be wrong. Those two he saw in the store might be somebody that looks like those two he remembers.”
Fred shook his head, uncertain, then shrugged. “You’d best go find Perley. He might be able to make some sense outta this. You go ahead and saddle up. I’ll take care of the wagon.”
Watching from a low hummock, some distance from the barn, Clementine Cobb lay at the foot of a stunted pine, her long glass focused on the people gathered around the wagon. She had no notion that she and Junior had been recognized by the young boy she had orphaned. She had never gotten a look at him. “They act like they’re all excited about somethin’,” she said to Junior. “Now the feller drivin’ the wagon jumped on a horse and hightailed it outta there.” She watched until she could determine what direction he was heading. “I wanna see where he’s goin’ in such a hurry. Come on.”
Back in the saddle, she led Junior in a direction tangent to the one Sonny took until they had circled the headquarters buildings, then she struck his trail. They followed him at a safe distance until they started passing through grazing cattle. When Sonny slowed almost to a walk, she motioned Junior to stay back. The range they rode through had very little cover, so they couldn’t trail Sonny as close as she might have wanted.
She reined her horse back hard when he suddenly threw up his hand to signal someone. “We need to find us a place to hide. At least we know where their range starts, ’cause it looks like there ain’t no cattle on the other side of this creek.”
She and Junior led their horses down near the creek where they couldn’t be seen by the man they had been following, who was now waiting while another rider came up to greet him. Clementine pulled out her long glass again and focused on the two men.
“Damn!” she exclaimed when she recognized the face of Perley Gates. “It’s him! It’s the son of a bitch we’re chasin’!”
“Who?” Junior asked.
“Perley Gates,” she answered, so surprised to see him that she didn’t bother to chastise Junior for his stupid question. Her initial impulse was to draw her rifle from her saddle sling and settle his hash once and for all. She pulled the rifle halfway out, but stopped when she reminded herself that she had a war in mind for the Gates family. If she took her revenge out and killed Perley, she and Junior would have no choice but to run. If she shot at him at that distance and missed, the Triple-G would be forewarned. She decided not to risk it. She wanted Perley and his two brothers and was confident she would take a lot more from the Triple-G before she was through. Perley was home, working his cattle. He wasn’t likely to be anywhere else for a while. She and her brothers had time to make their plans before they moved against the Triple-G.
Watching her actions, Junior was puzzled. When she slid the rifle back in the sling, he asked, “Ain’t you gonna shoot him?”
“Damn right I’m gonna shoot him. I’m gonna shoot his brothers and his wife and young’uns, if he’s got any, and his cows and his horses. He’s gonna regret the day he ever messed with the Cobbs. I ain’t ready to shoot him right now. It would spoil the party I’m plannin’ for him, so what we’re gonna do right now is start ridin’ south. I wanna be home in two days.
* * *
As he had suspected, Sonny found Perley herding half a dozen cows away from the creek, working alone, as he most often did. He wasn’t particularly happy to hear the news Sonny brought. Clementine was locked up in Garland Wilson’s shed, if she hadn’t already been picked up by a U.S. deputy marshal. At least, that’s where she was supposed to be. If it was her, he was well aware of why she wanted to settle her score with him.
Still, he wondered how she knew where to come looking for him. “I’d best talk to Link,” he decided. The boy might have been seeing ghosts. “Help me turn this bunch away from the creek,” he said to Sonny.
The two of them started the little group of strays toward the main part of the herd. Once they joined it, the cowboys left them to stay out of trouble on their own.
By the time they returned to the barn, both John and Rubin had joined Fred and the children. In the midst of the group, Link stood tight-lipped, waiting for Perley. When Perley and Sonny rode into the barnyard, he ran to meet him.
“It was them, Perley!” he declared before Perley could dismount. “They were in the store in town!”
Perley stepped down off the roan gelding he had been working that morning. “You sure it was them you saw?”
“Yes, I’m sure,” Link insisted. “It was that big ol’ mean woman—don’t no woman look like that ol’ witch. And that big man was with her.”
Ther
e was still a chance that Link was mistaken and might have let his imagination build a picture that wasn’t true. A lot of farmers and cattlemen lived in Lamar County, and some of them had some pretty tough-looking wives.
“Did you hear them talkin’?” Perley asked.
Link nodded.
“What did they talk about?”
“I don’t know,” Link replied, confused. “They were talkin’ to Mr. Henderson about somethin’.” He shook his head slowly, trying to remember. “I don’t know. I was scared.”
“That’s all right, Link,” Perley said calmly. It was hard not to have doubts about who Link actually saw, but he decided it best to be sure. I hope to hell he’s wrong.
Perley glanced at his brothers standing there, both waiting for him to explain. “I expect I’d best take a little ride into town and talk to Henderson,” he finally concluded. “Jimmy, can you cut ol’ Buck outta those horses in the south pasture for me? You can take this one to the pasture.” He pulled his saddle off the roan and Jimmy hopped up on the horse and turned it toward the south pasture. Rubin sent the kids to help unload the wagon, Link included. No hesitation on the part of the children. They all feared the stern, always serious man who was the head of the family since his father’s death. A casual suggestion from Rubin was akin to a commandment from God, or Moses at the least.
With the children off to the barn, Rubin turned to Perley. “You think that boy knows what he’s talkin’ about? And if he does, does it mean any trouble for the Triple-G?”
“Maybe I’ll find out when I talk to Henderson,” Perley said. “If it is the two Link thinks it is, then I’d have to believe that the one I just shot in the leg musta come back and sprung the woman. I hope nobody in Atoka got hurt if he did.”
“You’re too damn softhearted,” John spoke up, halfway in jest. “If you had a clean shot at the son of a bitch, you shoulda shot him in the head.”
Perley ignored John’s remark and continued. “What I wonder about is, how did they know to come to Paris?” He paused, then added, “If it really is Clementine and that big fellow that got away . . . and if they really are lookin’ for me.”
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