by Paul Colt
“Very good.”
“Sergeant Cahill!”
“Sir?”
“Detail six men to accompany the sheriff.”
They found the ranch deserted.
The steeldust loped northeast through rolling hills above the Pecos valley. Crisp late March wind bit around the edges of his canvas coat. Thoughts of Lucy warmed him inside. He’d surprised himself with the proposal. Not that he’d made it, but that he’d made it just then. He’d left her to uncertainty once before. He wasn’t about to do that again. He needed to get her out of the store. If Brewer and his Regulators caught up with Mathews, or Chisum and his boys got Evans, Dolan would go to war sure as hell had fire and brimstone. Big Jim was one good man. Good or not, one wouldn’t be enough.
He crested a rise southwest of the ranch. It looked like Roth had started clearing land for a house northeast of the hacienda. He smiled, remembering the satisfaction of building a house for Victoria. He wondered how she’d feel about Lucy. He guessed she’d understand. He’d need to give some thought to a more settled down life for Lucy, one where he could build her a house with a happier ending.
He slow loped through the gate up to the corral and drew rein. Deacon Swain stepped out of the barn.
“Mr. Ty, I didn’t hear you was comin’.”
“Oh, you know, Deac, that old bad penny turns up every once in a while.”
He chuckled. “Yes, sir, it sure do.”
“Chisum around?”
“Up to the house with Mr. McSween. Let me look after your horse. You go along and see him for yourself.”
“Much obliged.” He handed over the reins and crunched across the yard to the house. Dawn Sky answered his rap at the door. “Evenin’, Mrs. Roth.” She smiled, darkened by a blush. “I wonder if I might have a few words with John.”
“That you, Ty?” Chisum called.
“It is.”
“Show him in, Dawn.”
He found Chisum, Leverson, McSween and Johnny in the parlor. The men rose to shake hands.
“Grab a seat. Dawn’s fixin’ supper. We got room for one more, Dawn?”
She nodded.
“How did it go with Brewer?”
“He and his boys are on their way across the river to Bottomless Lakes. With any luck, they’ll get lost before Brady and his cavalry troop catch up with them.” He glanced at McSween. “Truth is, you and I might be smart to join them.”
“You think they might come looking for us here?”
“Right after they find the Flying H deserted.”
“Ty’s likely right,” Chisum said.
“I suppose that would be best.” He turned to Susan. “That’s rough country and company, my dear. Are you up to it?”
“If I must.”
“She’s more than welcome to stay here.”
“That’s most generous of you, John,” McSween said. “You’ll be safe and comfortable here, my dear.”
“I’m sure of it.” She met Chisum’s eyes. “Thank you.”
“Good, that’s settled. We’ll leave in the morning,” Ty said.
Dawn appeared in the parlor archway. “Supper is ready.”
They settled around the dining-room table to roast lamb, chiles stuffed with a mild cheese, tortillas and coffee. Ty took one look at the spread and couldn’t resist.
“You eat like this regular, Johnny?”
Roth bobbed his head around a mouth full of lamb.
“That explains that little extra paunch you’ve packed on.”
Roth looked at his belt buckle. “Not yet, pard, but you can keep eatin’ them beans as long as you like.”
After supper, Roth walked down to the bunkhouse with Ty. He paused under a clear star-studded sky. Lingering chill in the air reminisced of winter.
“I need the return of a favor.”
Roth eyed his friend. “You ain’t fixin’ to get yourself captured by C’manch, are you?”
Ty chuckled, “Nothing as dire as that. I need a witness.”
“Who you plan on shootin’?”
“Nobody. I need a witness to a wedding.”
Roth smiled. “Well, it’s about time. I thought you’d blown it for sure when she took up with Tunstall. Maybe you owe Dolan something after all.”
“I wouldn’t have a man shot over such a thing.”
“Bad gallows humor, sorry. Well, I’d be happy to return the favor. When’s the big day?”
“We haven’t picked one yet. I just sort of asked her before I left Lincoln.”
“You plannin’ to stay around here?”
“I don’t know. I’ll need to find steadier work than part-time deputy marshalin’.”
“Lincoln could use a good sheriff.”
“I’m likely on the wrong side of those politics.”
“You might not be if Brady and Dolan end up in the middle of Tunstall’s killin’.”
“That’s a lot of ifs.”
“What about cattle ranchin’? You done it before. Hell, you know more about cattle than I do.”
“That takes money. Money I haven’t got.”
“McSween’s got a bank. Banks make loans.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Maybe you should.”
“Maybe I should.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Deacon Swain saw them come. It took him back to the war. Black bluecoats, he’d been one fighting for an honorable cause. This cause didn’t strike him as the same. He propped his pitchfork against the barn and hurried up to the house. He rapped on the door. Dawn Sky greeted him with a question in her eye.
“Company’s coming. Mister John might like to know.”
Chisum appeared in dim light behind her.
“Who is it, Deac?”
“Army, Mr. John.”
“Must be Brady. Thanks, Deacon.” He turned to Susan. “If you’d like to disappear, I’ll handle this.”
She straightened her shoulders. “That’s very kind of you, John, but I’ll not hide from injustice like some common criminal. Alex isn’t here. He’s the one they’re after.” She led the way out to the porch.
Chisum stood at her side. The captain drew the column to a halt. Brady stepped down.
“Chisum. Mrs. McSween. Is your husband here?”
She shook her head.
“Where is he?”
“Away on business.”
“Where?”
“He didn’t say.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I don’t care what you believe.”
“We’ve got warrants for the arrest of a number of men known to be in his employ.”
“I don’t know anything about that.”
“If he’s hiding them, he’s an accessory to murder.”
“I’m looking at an accessory to murder.”
Brady turned scarlet. “I’ve also got a court order for your husband to appear before Judge Bristol in a civil matter. If he doesn’t come along voluntarily, he’ll be found in contempt of court and I will be forced to arrest him.”
“Turn himself in to you? Why would he sign his own death warrant?”
“It’s the law.”
“That’ll be enough, Brady. Mrs. McSween is a guest in my home. The men you’re after aren’t here. Now, I suggest you get off my land.”
“Just like that.”
“Just like that.”
“Mrs. McSween, George Purington, at your service. If your husband is willing, I am authorized to take him into protective custody. I assure you no harm will come to him at Fort Stanton.”
“I’ve already told you, my husband isn’t here.”
“Perhaps when he returns, at least consider it. Sheriff?”
Brady stepped into his saddle. “This ain’t over, Chisum.”
“No, it’s not.”
Brady and his cavalry wheeled away to the gate at a lope.
“Deac?”
“Mr. John.”
“Ride on over to Bottomless L
akes. Tell Mr. McSween Sheriff Brady’s been here. He’s wanted at court.”
The fire burned low, coloring the parlor in a mesquite-scented warm glow. They sat quietly on opposite ends of the settee, absorbing the events of the day.
“You stood up to him. I admire the pluck.”
She turned to his profile, silhouette in shadow sparked by firelight reflected in one eye. “I can’t abide the man’s gall. I appreciate you standing by me in the end.”
“It’s been quite a day.”
“I’m afraid it’s only the beginning.”
“Yes. I don’t know about you, but I believe I could use a drink. Would you care for a glass of sherry?”
“That sounds so proper. If you don’t mind, I’d rather have a whiskey.”
He arched a brow. “Woman after my own heart.” He rose to fetch the drinks.
She watched. You don’t know the half of it.
He returned moments later. Amber liquid shrouded in cut crystal danced in the firelight. He offered her a glass.
She accepted it, her hand lingering on his. She patted the sofa beside her.
He eyed the invitation as though seeing it for the first time. It was unexpected. It wasn’t surprising. He sank slowly beside her, uncertain he may have mistaken her. She lifted her glass to his and took a swallow. The whiskey warmed. The air hung still, heavy with promise.
“You’re a special woman, Susan. Alex is lucky to have you.”
“Alex is playing a fool’s game. We both know he’ll go to his grave with Tunstall.”
“Then why fight it? Take Dolan’s offer and start over somewhere.”
She shot him a look, liquid fire in her eye. “John Chisum, I’m surprised at you. You’d never do such a thing.”
“What I would do doesn’t matter. We’re talking about Alex.”
“We are and he’s about to get himself killed.”
“You could convince him to stop.”
She laughed. “No more than I might convince you.” She tossed off her drink.
“Care for another?”
She set her glass on the table, ignoring the question. “I couldn’t convince either of you to give it up. I could give you something to think about that Alex simply doesn’t understand.”
“What’s that?”
She turned to him. She took his glass and set it beside hers. The air turned warm and moist. She leaned toward him, her lips parted. Time dissolved.
Bottomless Lakes
Wanted at court, what does that mean? It means the time has come to settle this thing.
“What do we do now?” Ty said.
McSween returned from his thoughts. “I’m going to South Spring to talk to Chisum. Then I’m going to Lincoln.”
“I’m going with you.” I’ve got to get Lucy out of that store before this goes bad.
The Kid glanced at Brewer. His eyes said some of us best go too.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
South Spring
They gathered around the dining table with the supper dishes cleared away. Chisum sat at the head of the table flanked by McSween and Leverson. Ty and Johnny kept to their places. Susan retired to the kitchen to help Dawn Sky with the dishes. Over supper Leverson summarized the barrage of letters he’d sent on behalf of the Chisum-McSween faction. He forcefully portrayed Santa Fe Ring corruption extending from Governor Axtell to US Attorney Catron to District Attorney William Rynerson and Judge Bristol’s court. He petitioned President Hayes to call off the army and remove both the governor and the US attorney. His letter writing campaign included influential political figures in positions to lend their voices to the chorus of appeals reaching the president.
“Most impressive, Montegue,” McSween said. “Do you think your campaign will be successful?”
The lawyer shrugged. “One never knows in such matters. Suffice it to say we’ve done all we can. Now it is up to the wheels of power to grind.”
Chisum turned to Alex. “So how do we play this whilst those wheels grind?”
“Brewer and his men have resumed the search for Mathews and Roberts. If your boys go after Evans and his bunch, Dolan just might get the message. If we make a big show of force it might convince him he can’t win.”
“He’s got too much at stake. You’re thinkin’ like a lawyer, Alex. Same as Tunstall. This’ll all settle in gunplay before it’s done.”
“Remember, we’re serving arrest warrants. We want those men taken alive.”
“Of course we do, but you know as well as I, we don’t always get what we want. Johnny, tell the boys to get ready. You’re ridin’ down to Seven Rivers in the morning. If Evans ain’t there, you’ll be on the trail as long as it takes to find him.”
Roth nodded. “You plannin’ to ride with us, Ty?”
“No. I’ll ride to Lincoln with Mr. McSween. I got some unfinished business up there.”
Roth grinned. “She wouldn’t be workin’ for Mr. McSween would she?”
McSween arched a brow.
Ledger ignored the question.
“Well, you two best not go back to Lincoln alone,” Chisum said. “I’ll take Frank, Charlie and Tom and ride with you. That way Brady won’t be so quick to throw you in the Fort Stanton stockade with Widenmann.”
McSween nodded. “Thanks, John. Much obliged.”
“I shan’t be left behind in this,” Leverson said. “I shall accompany you as well.”
Ty squinted into the last rays of a flaming sunset beneath a billowing mountain of purple cloud. Blue shadow spilled down the distant hills crawling east toward the onset of night. He made out a trace of smoke sign.
“Frank, take a look.”
McNab followed the jut of his chin.
“Why would you camp here when you’re so close to Lincoln?”
“Because you’re stayin’ out of Lincoln for a reason. Let’s have a look.” McNab led off toward the sign followed by Ledger, Bowdre and O’Folliard. Thirty minutes later they came up behind a rise close enough to smell a mesquite fire. McNab drew a halt and stepped down.
“Wait here, boys, while I go in and have a look.” He climbed the rise and disappeared in a black shadowed grove of juniper. Minutes later he came back down the tree line. Chisum had caught up by then along with the buggy carrying the McSweens and Leverson. “It’s the Bonney kid and a couple of Brewer’s boys. I thought it might be.” He collected his reins and stepped into the saddle, signaling the others to remount.
He led them out around the hill and drew rein in sight of the fire. “Yo the fire!” As expected the men scrambled for their guns. “Easy, Billy. It’s Frank McNab and a few South Spring boys. We’ve got Mr. Chisum and the McSweens with us.”
“Ride on in easy so we can see you.”
Ty smiled. The Kid’s reedy adolescent voice managed a little authority. They rode in and stepped down. The men stood to greet them. Waite shook McNab’s hand.
“Coffee’s made. Fire’s there for cookin’. We wasn’t expectin’
company so we didn’t fix up any extra.”
“We can take care of ourselves. What are you doin’ out here?”
The Kid spoke up. “Waitin’ to get the lay of the land before we ride in and tip our hand.”
“Makes sense,” McSween said. “Mind if we join you.”
“That’s fine for you and the boys, Alex,” Ty said. “I got personal business in Lincoln. I’m gonna ride on in.”
“Best stay out of sight.”
“Count on it.”
Lincoln
Dolan picked up his cards. He squinted in the dim lamplight. He’d set up the game in the back room at the store where the boys could stay out of sight. The room smelled of burlap covered packages and crated stores mingled with coal oil and cigar smoke. He shifted his cheroot from one cheek to the other, allowing his eyes to slide from Evans to Roberts to Coe. None of them showed anything. He fanned his hand, two pair, jacks and sixes. The bet checked to him.
“Five to see ’em.”
&n
bsp; Evans lifted an eyebrow and tossed in his call. Roberts followed. Coe folded. Dolan laid down his hand. Evans tossed in a pair of Queens. Roberts had aces. Dolan scooped up the pot.
“Pleasure doin’ business with you boys.”
“I need a drink,” Evans said.
“The bottle’s behind the counter. Glasses are on the shelf above.”
Evans fetched the whiskey and glasses. He passed the glasses followed by the bottle. “So you don’t figure lockin’ up Widenmann settled the Tunstall flap.”
Dolan took a swallow. “If McSween was of a mind to give it up, he’d sell out and move on. I reckon he’s got Chisum backin’ him up and likely figures that for enough.”
“How long you want me and the boys to hang around town waitin’? I ain’t complainin’ about the hospitality, but all this card playin’ is costin’ me money.”
“Hell, Jesse, wait long enough your luck is bound to change.”
“How long?”
“Long enough for McSween to show his hand. I expect we’ll hear from him soon enough.”
Ty rode into the east end of town, dark and still in the early evening. A cold steady rain had boiled up out of those deep purple clouds. The street turned to a muddy sludge. The lace curtains at Mrs. O’Hara’s gave a warm glow. He stepped down at the gate and looped a rein over the fence. The gate squealed its familiar welcome. He stepped into the porch shadow out of the rain and rapped on the door. High button shoes tapped the polished floor with a faint rustle of petticoat. The door swung open. Lucy’s eyes lit. She rushed into his arms, holding him tight with no thought to the cold and wet of his slicker.
“I’ve missed you.”
The whisper felt warm against his chest. “I’ve missed you too.”
She pulled back. “Have you had any supper?”
He shook his head.
“Bring your horse around back where he won’t be so notice able and come in the kitchen. I’ll fix you something.”
He kissed her.
“Hold that thought, cowboy. Hurry back.” She watched him walk back to the gate, turned and hurried back inside.
Ty led the steeldust around the house. The rain lifted. The clouds broke, revealing the evening star in the eastern sky followed by a milk-white moon. He dropped his reins to a ground tie and loosened the cinch. He pumped a bucket of water and left the horse to graze. Lucy let him in the back door. Mrs. O’Hara stood at the sink, finishing up the last of the supper dishes.