by Jake Logan
“Mr. Ghost,” said the judge, “I’m inclined to give you leeway in your summation, but you are going too far by bringing in matters that do not pertain to this trial.”
“I’m all done, your honor, sir,” Ghost said. “Except to just tell the jury that what I think ought to happen here is I think that the judge had ought to just dismiss the charges in this case and throw it out of court. But since he don’t show no inclination to do that, then I say that you should take things into your own hands and do what’s right by bringing in a verdict of not guilty. That’s all.”
The judge then admonished the jury to disregard all of Ghost’s comments about Ike and Billy, and then he charged the bailiff with taking the jury out to deliberate. They were gone for an hour. While they waited, Slocum and Tipton went outside to smoke cigars.
“Where’d they find that damned Ghost fellow?” Slocum asked.
“He’s got his office right here in Breakneck,” said Tipton. “They’ve used him before. Every crook and bum around uses him. He’s a no-good sleazy son of a bitch.”
“That’s pretty clear,” said Slocum. “What about the jury?”
“I know them all,” Tipton said. “They’re all pretty good ole boys.”
When they saw the jury returning, Tipton and Slocum went back inside and resumed their seats. The jury got settled back in, and the judge called for the verdict. The foreman stood up.
“How do you find?” asked the judge.
“Well, your honor,” said the foreman, “we find the defendant, Brace Beamer, sort of guilty.”
“Sort of? What do you mean by that?”
“Well, he was the only one that really got hurt.”
“That is not a legal verdict,” the judge said. “Bailiff, take them out again, and this time when you come back, I want to hear a verdict of guilty or of not guilty. Do you understand that?”
“Yes, your honor,” said the foreman of the jury, “but I don’t reckon we have to go out again.”
He leaned over and whispered to other members of the jury. They all nodded their heads in agreement. Some of them shrugged. The foreman straightened up again.
“We find him guilty, your honor,” he said.
“This court is recessed until ten o’clock tomorrow morning. We’ll have sentencing then.” The judge rapped his gavel, and someone stood up and shouted, “The bar’s open.” There was a general rush for the bar. The sheriff took Brace Beamer and walked him through the crowd to go back to the jail. Slocum and Tipton went back to the door where Slocum retrieved his Colt, and they went outside to mount up and ride back out to the ranch. Tipton was in the saddle. Slocum was about to swing up when he heard his name called. He looked around to see the Beamers, all but Brace, gathered up on the sidewalk.
“Your days are numbered, Slocum, you dirty son of a bitch,” said one of them.
Slocum looked at the man. He swung up into the saddle. “Could be yours are, too,” he said. “All of you.”
“You threatening to kill us all, Slocum?”
“One at a time or all of you at once,” Slocum said. “It don’t matter to me. Right now or later. It’s your choice.”
“Leave off, Hump,” said the old woman. “This ain’t the time nor place for it.”
“Hell,” said the one called Hump. “There’s too many witnesses here. They’d say we ganged up on you. But we’ll meet again, Slocum. You can be sure of that.”
“Hell,” said Slocum, “I’ll be looking forward to it.”
The Beamers turned and ambled back into the saloon, a couple of them looking back over their shoulders to scowl at Slocum. Tipton pulled his watch out of his vest pocket and looked at it.
“Slocum,” he said, “there’s a pretty good place to eat down the street. What do you say?”
Slocum shrugged. “I’m agreeable,” he said.
He followed Tipton down the street to a place called Harmony’s Eats. They dismounted and hitched their horses to the rail in front. Then they went inside. It was a small place but clean. There were a few customers inside eating, but not many. Most folks were still over in the Hogneck Saloon. Tipton found them a table and he and Slocum sat down. In just a couple of minutes a good-looking waitress with shoulder-length brown hair appeared at their table. Slocum figured her to be in her thirties. She smiled down at them, and Slocum liked the looks of the smile, the whole package.
“Hello, Carl,” she said. “Who’s the stranger?”
“Harmony,” said Tipton, “this here is Slocum. He’s working for me.”
“Howdy, Slocum,” Harmony said. “Welcome. Well, what can I do for you boys?”
“Bring us some coffee,” Tipton said, “and whatever good you got to eat today.”
“I’ve got some damn good beef stew.”
“That’ll do,” said Tipton.
“Sounds good to me,” said Slocum.
“Be right out.”
Slocum watched the swing of Harmony’s hips as she walked away. Now there was something to take his mind off his troubles. If he could get better acquainted with Harmony, that might keep him from thinking so much about Jamie. He was getting tired of trying to hold himself at bay on that matter, not wanting to get into trouble with his boss. Yes, this Harmony looked like a fine thing to Slocum.
“Slocum,” said Tipton, “I believe I can read your mind.”
“Yeah,” said Slocum, “I expect you can. Is she married or spoke for?” He was thinking, though, that he hoped the old man had not been reading his mind before this.
“Neither one,” said Tipton. “She’s free for the taking.”
Slocum started to ask another question, but he saw Harmony coming back with a tray. She put down two cups of coffee, two spoons, and two big bowls of beef stew. She placed a chunk of bread in the middle of the table. “There you go,” she said. “If you need anything else, give a holler.”
“Anything?” said Slocum, a bit suggestively.
“Ahh,” she said, looking back at him and wagging a finger, but she was still smiling. That was a good sign. He liked a woman who could take some teasing, but then, there was always the danger that she wouldn’t want to let it go any farther than teasing. He hoped that he would have a chance to find out if Harmony was that type or not. Somehow he did not think that she would be. Only time would tell.
“Nothing like being obvious,” Tipton said.
Slocum shrugged and picked up his spoon. He took a big bite of the stew. It was hot.
“It’s good,” he said. “It’s hot, too.”
His eyes were watering. Tipton laughed and spooned some out for himself. Instead of shoving it in his mouth, he blew on it. Slocum pulled a bit of bread off the chunk in the middle of the table.
“So,” he said, “how come a good-looking woman like that is in this town and not already branded?”
“I don’t rightly know,” said Tipton. “She come to town a year or so ago with a little money and bought this place. No one knows where she come from or anything else about her for that matter. A few boys has tried, but she’s just run them off. It’s like she ain’t got no use for men.”
“Maybe she just never run across the right one,” said Slocum.
“You think you might be that right one?”
“There’s nothing like trying,” Slocum said.
6
It was later that same night, well after Slocum and Tipton had returned to the ranch and well after the Hogneck had closed its doors. Breakneck looked almost like a ghost town. The sidewalks had been rolled up tight. There wasn’t a human being in sight, not even a horse tied on the street. Nine Beamers rode slowly into town, or at least, seven Beamers and their two unknown recent recruits. They rode slowly up to the jail and dismounted, tying their horses—along with an extra one, saddled—loosely to the hitch rail in front. They looked at one another with grim and determined expressions on their unshaven faces, peering out from under the floppy, wide brims of their hats. Then the one in the lead stepped up onto the si
dewalk. The others followed. The leader pulled out his six-gun, and the others did the same. He glanced around one last time, and he said, “You ready?”
“We’re ready, Hump,” one of them answered.
Hump tried the door but found it locked. He lifted his six-gun and pounded the door with its butt. The noise resounded in the seemingly abandoned town. When there was no immediate response, he pounded again. At last there came an answer from inside.
“Who is it?”
“Charlie Hope,” Hump Beamer answered. “I ride for Mister Tipton. We got troubles out here.”
“Just a minute.”
Inside the jail, Seth Willis pulled on his trousers and lifted the suspenders up onto his shoulders. He headed for the door. He hesitated and went back for his revolver. Then he went to open the door. He shoved back the latch and pulled on the handle. “Charlie,” he said, “what—”
He stopped, for he was looking, not at Charlie Hope, but instead at the ugly mug of Hump Beamer and at the muzzle of Hump’s six-gun. Before he had time to react, Hump pulled the trigger, and a piece of lead tore into Willis’s chest. Willis staggered back, an expression of disbelief on his face. Then he sagged onto the floor to lie in a pool of spreading blood. Hump strode into the office, stepping over the body of Seth Willis and stomping on across to the desk. The rest of his gang followed him.
“Hump,” called Brace from the cell, “get me the hell out of here.”
“Hold your horses, Brace,” Hump said. “I’m just getting the keys.”
He rummaged around on the desk till he found the key ring. Grabbing it up, he headed for the cell. Two of the other Beamers stood by the front door looking out onto the street.
“Hurry it up,” one of them said.
“You see anyone coming?” Hump asked.
“No, but someone’s bound to have heard that shot.”
“Just keep your britches on,” Hump said.
Hump tried one key and it didn’t work. He tried another.
“Hurry up, Hump.”
“Shut the fuck up. I’m moving as fast as I can.”
He tried a third key, and the lock clicked and turned. He jerked open the door. Brace came rushing out. Another Beamer was going through desk drawers. He found Brace’s gunbelt with the six-gun still in the holster, and he handed it to Brace. Brace wrapped the belt around his waist and started to fasten the buckle.
“Come on,” said the man at the door.
Brace finished fastening the buckle and headed for the door. Already most of the gang was outside mounting up. The mounted men all looked nervously up and down the street. Brace went out and climbed onto the extra horse. The last one out was Hump. He stopped in the doorway and looked back at Seth Willis lying still on the floor. For good measure, he fired one more round into the helpless sheriff. Then he rushed on out to his waiting horse and climbed up into the saddle.
“Let’s get the hell out of here,” he shouted. They all turned their mounts and headed out of Breakneck at a fast pace. “Yahoo!” yelled Brace.
Back in the jail, Seth Willis moaned and tried to move. He could not. He had dropped his gun with Hump Beamer’s first shot and it was lying on the floor within a foot of his right hand. He opened his eyes and saw the revolver. He stretched out his hand. It was beyond his reach. He tried to crawl toward it, but he could not move. He sucked in a few deep breaths, each one hurting like hell, and then he mustered all his remaining strength to reach for the gun. His fingers managed to touch the handle, and he worked the revolver toward him. At last he was able to grasp the handle. He got his finger on the trigger and his thumb on the hammer. It took a mighty effort, but he pulled back the hammer and fired a shot. Then he cocked the piece again and fired again. The effort had been almost too much for him. He relaxed and blacked out.
Outside, two men appeared on the street. One was in a nightshirt carrying a shotgun. The other was just tucking his shirttail into his britches. They looked at one another.
“You hear them shots?” said one.
“Sounded like they come from the sheriff’s office.”
“Let’s get over there and see.”
The two men rushed across the street and found the front door to the sheriff’s office open. They looked at one another, and then one of the two poked his face inside the open door.
“My God,” he said. “Someone’s shot Seth.”
“Is he dead?”
“I ain’t sure. Run and get the doc.”
The other man turned and ran. There were a few more men on the street by then, and as he ran, he called out, “Someone’s shot Seth. I’m going for Doc.”
The other men ran on inside the jail.
“Say,” said one, “they broke ole Brace out of jail.”
“It must’ve been the Beamers that done it then.”
“Let’s get Seth up off the floor,” said one. “We can lay him on the cot in the cell.”
Doc stepped in just then and saw what was happening. “Be careful with him,” he said. “That’s it. Get him on that cot. Someone light a lamp. Hurry it up. I got to be able to see what I’m doing.”
They got Willis onto the cot and Doc shoved them aside getting to his patient. First he put his head on the sheriff’s chest listening. When he straightened up, there was blood on the side of his face.
“How is he, Doc?”
“Well, he’s not dead, but he’s not far from it.”
He tore open the sheriff’s shirt and reached for his bag.
Outside of town, the Beamers rode hard for their own ranch headquarters. They ran their horses up to the corral, unsaddled them, and turned them loose. Then they started walking toward the house. The scraggly, tough-looking old woman stepped out the front door as they approached.
“Brace,” she said. “Come here, boy.”
Brace rushed up to the old woman, and she embraced him, squeezing him tightly. Brace put his own arms around her.
“I’m all right, Maw,” he said.
“Oh, I’m so glad to see you. I couldn’t bear the thought of seeing you in prison. I’d as soon have saw you dead.”
“Well, I ain’t dead, Maw, and I ain’t in prison, neither. Thanks to Hump and the boys.”
The old woman at last released Brace. She looked around at the rest of the brood. “Hump,” she said, “you done good. All of you done good. I’m proud of you. Did you have any trouble?”
“Hell,” said one of the boys, “there wasn’t anyone in town awake.”
They all laughed. “I had to shoot ole Seth,” Hump said.
“You kill him?” asked the old woman.
“He looked dead to me. I shot him twice.”
“Good. Anyone else see you?”
“Nary a soul.”
“Then there ain’t no witnesses, and no one can prove you done it. If anyone comes out this way, we’ll just hide Brace and say we don’t know nothing about it.”
“Maw,” said Brace, “I can’t stay hid out here forever.”
“Just for awhile, sonny boy. Till we see how this thing is going to play out. It won’t be long. I promise you. Come on in the house. I got some vittles waiting. Coffee’s ready.”
“Coffee?” said Brace. “How about whiskey?”
“We got that, too. Come on now.”
The boys all followed Maw into the house and grabbed chairs, mostly around a table which stood in the middle of the room. The old woman began spooning out food onto plates and serving them around. A couple of the boys poured themselves cups of coffee, but Brace called out again for the whiskey. Hump found the bottle and some glasses and began pouring them full. They all began drinking whiskey and shoveling food into their mouths.
“Now that we got Brace safe home again,” the old woman said, “we got some serious business to be took care of.”
“What you thinking about, Maw?” Hump said.
“We got to take care of that damned Tipton and his hired gunfighter.”
“That Slocum?” said Brace.
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“That one,” Maw said. “He killed Billy and Ike. Shot them down like dogs in the road. We can’t let men like that live. Slocum for killing them boys and Tipton for hiring him to do it.”
“Well, hell, Maw,” said Hump. “We got the sheriff tonight. We could hit the Tipton ranch right away while they ain’t expecting nothing. Get Tipton and Slocum both.”
“No. That’s too dangerous. They got too many cowhands over there. One of you boys might get hurt. Killed even. I don’t want to lose no more of my boys. Not even to get them two bastards. We got to be clever about this.”
“Well, what’ll we do then?”
“I’m thinking on it,” the old woman said.
Everything was silent then for a time except for the slurping and chawing of the Beamer boys. Then the old hag spoke up again.
“I got it,” she said. “I want four of you boys to ride over to Tipton’s spread. Hide across the road from his main gate and wait there. Wait till you see them ride out on their way to town or to someplace. Not just anyone. Tipton and Slocum.”
“They’ll likely be riding into town in the morning thinking they’ll listen to my sentencing,” said Brace.
“Good,” said the old woman. “You’re right about that. Take along your rifles with you. When they ride out, you cut them down.”
“Let me go, Maw,” Brace said. “I got more reason than anyone else. Hell, my head still hurts from where that damn Slocum hit me.”
Maw leaned over Brace from behind and put her arms around him. “My poor baby,” she said. “Of course you can go. And whoever else goes along with him, you be sure and let him shoot that Slocum. You hear me? Let him kill that no-good gunfighter.”
“Sure, Maw,” said Hump. “I’m going, too. We’ll take along Harman and Hiram with us.”