Lawless Breed

by Ralph Hayes

  Corey and Sumner were seated at a table for defendants before the bench, and the bailiff announced their separate charges. An elderly court reporter sat before the bench and took everything down in shorthand.

  ‘Just relax, Corey,’ Sumner spoke quietly to him. Corey looked as if he might fall off his chair at any moment.

  Judge Gabriel took a short swig from the whiskey bottle and then stowed it in a drawer out of view. He leaned forward onto the mahogany bench before him and clasped his hands on it.

  ‘Well. What have we here?’ Squinting toward the two defendants. ‘Are these the killers you told me about, Deputies?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Guthrie answered for them.

  Gabriel put a hand up and covered a belch. ‘All right. We’ve got one Corey Madison here, and a Wesley Sumner. Which one of you is Madison?’

  Corey wasn’t paying any attention. ‘That’s Corey beside me here, Your Honor,’ Sumner spoke up for him. ‘He’s not feeling very well right now.’

  Gabriel scowled at Sumner. ‘I guess you’re his partner in crime.’

  ‘We committed no crime, Your Honor.’

  ‘Then you’re both pleading not guilty?’

  Sumner shot a quick glance at Corey. Corey looked at him drunkenly. ‘Yes, sir,’ Sumner answered for them.

  Gabriel sighed, and focused on Corey. ‘Boy, you’d scare crows out of a turnip patch. What the hell happened to you? You look like you been run over by a gut wagon.’

  ‘Maybe you should ask them,’ Sumner said acidly, gesturing toward Pritchard and Guthrie. ‘Sir.’

  Pritchard stood up. ‘That boy resisted arrest, Your Honor. It took us a few minutes to subdue him.’

  ‘You damn near beat him to death!’ Sumner said loudly.

  Gabriel took a gavel and pounded with it a couple of times. ‘All right. Let’s keep some order in here.’ There were a half dozen spectators scattered through the room, and Sumner heard one of them laugh softly.

  ‘You ought to learn to cooperate with the law, Madison,’ Gabriel finally continued.

  ‘Well, you boys will be heard separately, but that should pose no problem time-wise. You’ll be first, Madison. Are you represented by counsel?’

  Corey focused on him. ‘Huh?’ he murmured. He moved an arm and emitted a low cry of pain.

  ‘We don’t know any lawyers here,’ Sumner said.

  Gabriel chuckled. ‘It would surprise me if you did. We buried the last one a week ago. He took the influenza.’

  This time the chuckle came from Guthrie.

  ‘The thing is,’ Gabriel went on, ‘I’ve heard the evidence against you, Mr Madison, and it’s pretty conclusive. We got the testimony of these two officers behind you on record already. Now we’re ready to hear your side, Madison. Sumner, I’ll listen to you tomorrow. I’ve got an appointment at the local saloon in a half hour. A matter of business, of course.’ He grinned and the two deputy marshals returned it.

  ‘We haven’t had a chance to hear what they said,’ Sumner objected.

  Gabriel gave him a hard look. ‘What are you, Mr Sumner? One of them Philadelphia lawyers? We don’t worry about cross-examination and all that New York procedure here in the Territory. We just listen to both sides and make a decision. And get on to the next case. You understand me?’

  Sumner tried to suppress the new anger rising in him. ‘Yes. I’m beginning to.’

  ‘Do you want to make a statement under oath, Mr Madison?’ Gabriel continued.

  Corey stared up at him. ‘I don’t feel good. I want to go home.’

  Gabriel shook his head. ‘I don’t have time for this.’

  ‘May I speak for him?’ Sumner asked him.

  Gabriel sighed. ‘Fine. But make it fast.’

  Sumner took a deep breath in. ‘Like we told these two behind us, we were nowhere near the Spencer farm the night that murder happened. We were camping on the trail, on our way to the Prescott ranch to talk about work. We offered to ride there and prove it. And we didn’t have the money on us that was stolen.’

  Gabriel had been cleaning a fingernail through that summary. He now looked down on Sumner narrowly. ‘Is that it?’

  Sumner hesitated. ‘Yes, Your Honor.’

  ‘And that’s pretty much your defence, too?’

  Sumner nodded. Gabriel looked down at a paper. ‘All right.’ He turned his attention to Corey. ‘Will the defendant Corey Madison please rise?’

  Corey didn’t even hear him. Sumner pulled Corey to his feet as gently as he could, making Corey wince. Corey almost slumped out of Sumner’s grasp.

  ‘Corey Madison, this court finds you guilty as charged and sentences you to hang by the neck until you are dead.’

  ‘What!’ Sumner yelled out.

  ‘Your execution will take place tomorrow morning at dawn, here in the public square.’ He pounded the gavel and rose. ‘Take the prisoner away.’

  Sumner couldn’t believe it. ‘No, wait! We want an appeal!’

  ‘We don’t allow appeals from this court.’ Gabriel frowned at him. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr Sumner.’

  ‘This is a goddamn outrage!’ Sumner yelled.

  But Gabriel was gone. The bailiff, a large, square man, ushered them from the court room and a guard from the jail took charge of them outside and returned them to their cell. Corey almost fell down twice on the way, with Sumner keeping him on his feet.

  Once back in the cell and with Corey collapsed on his lower cot, Sumner sat heavily onto the edge of it and put his head in his hands. His mouth tasted like old paper, and his head throbbed. He looked over at Corey, who looked asleep but with a rattle in his throat. Sumner was still trying to understand how things could have gone so terribly wrong in such a brief time. He couldn’t get it through his head that they were actually going to hang this innocent boy tomorrow, whose sister back in Texas was blithely awaiting his return from his work foray with good news for them.

  When blackness showed in the high barred window of their cell, Sumner climbed onto the upper bunk and tried to fall asleep. Thinking of what was going to happen at dawn. Feeling as if he were in the middle of a nightmare that he might wake up from at any moment and be back in hardship camp with Corey, looking forward to their separate futures.

  He couldn’t sleep. He climbed back down and began pacing the floor of the tiny cell.

  Wondering if there was something he could do to derail what was about to happen.

  At an hour when dawn seemed not far distant, Sumner leant against the wall opposite the bunks, when there was suddenly a loud croaking noise coming from Corey’s throat. Sumner rushed over there and grabbed Corey.

  ‘Corey! Look at me! Are you all right?’

  As he held his friend, a loud coughing started, and in a moment it was worse, and then wet crimson erupted from Corey’s mouth, some spraying onto Sumner’s shirt. Then a great rattling came, and after that Corey stopped breathing. Sumner couldn’t believe it.

  ‘Corey! Goddamn it, kid! Breathe!’

  But Corey’s body was lifeless. And slowly growing cool to the touch. Sumner sat there, breathing hard now. A burning hatred starting in him, many times greater than it had been in court. And something settled hard inside him that he sensed would never go away. A new hardness, greater than anything at the Texas prison, toward the potential ugliness of his world. Toward those men of the law in that court room. And men like them everywhere.

  He was still sitting over Corey when they came at dawn and uttered their exclamations of surprise when they saw Corey.

  ‘Well, if that don’t beat all,’ the second one in said.

  ‘He died about an hour ago,’ Sumner said heavily.

  The other man grunted. ‘I guess he really didn’t want to go out there this morning.’ A narrow grin.

  Sumner ignored it, rising to his feet. ‘When will you take him?’

  The guard who had just spoken shrugged. ‘That’s up to Gabriel. But for now, we’ll have to move you over to the next cell. It’s the ru
les.’

  It was almost two hours later – while Corey’s body grew stiff in the adjacent cell – when a single guard came to take Sumner to his court appearance. He tried to get a last look at Corey, but failed.

  Sumner was still so distracted by events that he was barely aware of arriving in the court room. His face was grim, his posture slumped. He had prepared himself mentally for the sentence of hanging.

  Gabriel sat behind the bench, talking and laughing softly with a different bailiff. The same aged court reporter sat ready to record proceedings. When Gabriel saw Sumner being led in, he dismissed the bailiff, and that slim fellow descended to floor level. Gabriel eyed Sumner silently as Sumner was seated at an inset table. The bailiff announced the court to be in session. Today there were about three dozen spectators, most from the disappointed crowd outside in the square.

  ‘Well, Mr Sumner,’ Gabriel began. He looked unkempt, as if he were suffering from the effects of excessive drinking. ‘I hear that your partner Mr Madison has managed to escape the gallows.’

  Sumner heard feet scraping behind him, and turned slightly to see Pritchard and Guthrie seat themselves in the front row of seats again.

  ‘These men killed him,’ Sumner said bitterly. ‘Just as sure as if they’d put a bullet in him, I guess this way was better entertainment for them.’

  ‘That’s a goddamn lie!’ Pritchard said loudly in his deep voice.

  Gabriel blew his cheeks out. It was obvious he didn’t want to be there.

  ‘Gentlemen. I’d like to proceed,’ he said irritably.

  ‘Yes, let’s get it over with,’ Sumner grumbled. ‘While your hangman is still available out there.’

  Gabriel sighed heavily. ‘You don’t make it easy for me, boy.’

  ‘I didn’t know I was supposed to,’ Sumner retorted.

  Gabriel ignored the response. ‘I’ve been reviewing these deputies’ statements,’ he went on. ‘The Spencer boy saw just one man running from his house to a mount not far away. When asked, he thought there was no other person with him.’

  Sumner just stood there, wondering where this was going.

  ‘These boys just brought you in to get this all settled here in court,’ Gabriel went on. ‘Even though Madison fit the description of the thief and was obviously guilty, I can’t find enough hard evidence against you individually to hang you.’

  ‘Hell,’ Guthrie muttered, from behind Sumner.

  ‘In fact, because I’m in a good mood today,’ Gabriel smiled wanly, ‘I’m not going to try to keep you here for conspiracy. I’m already bored with this case. I’m releasing you from custody and you’re free to ride back to Texas and cause some other judge trouble there.’

  Sumner frowned slightly. He couldn’t believe he had heard properly. ‘The charge against me is dropped?’ he said quietly.

  ‘That’s correct,’ Gabriel said blithely. ‘Bailiff, remove his handcuffs and escort him from the building. If I ever see you here again, Sumner, I’ll hang you on general principles. This court is adjourned until 1:30 this afternoon.’

  ‘You lucky sonofabitch,’ Pritchard grated out, just at his left shoulder.

  As the judge retired to his chambers, the bailiff came and took Sumner’s cuffs off, and Sumner rubbed his wrists. He still couldn’t believe what was happening. It was almost as bizarre as Corey’s death.

  ‘I’d like to claim Corey’s body,’ Sumner told the bailiff. ‘To take it back to his sister in Texas.’

  ‘Oh, that won’t be possible,’ the other man said. ‘He’s already being buried up at Boot Hill this morning. Under court order.’

  Sumner slumped inside himself.

  ‘Too bad, trail bum.’ From behind him.

  He turned around and saw Guthrie’s grinning face. Pritchard’s still showed mild anger, at Sumner’s release.

  ‘Maybe they’ll give you his spurs,’ Pritchard said acidly.

  ‘Or his boots, if you can take the stink,’ Guthrie offered. They both laughed.

  Sumner stood there silent for a moment. ‘I think you boys are under a wrong impression here. Do you really think you’re going to get away with this?’

  His voice was calm, self-assured. Deadly serious. Pritchard looked into those cold blue eyes and saw something there he didn’t like, and the feeling he got from that look angered him. ‘Why, you no-good Texas trash, I think you need another lesson in manners.’ In a hard, grating voice. He started for Sumner.

  But Guthrie’s hand grabbed him. ‘No. Gabriel wouldn’t like it. Just let him go. I’m sick of his face.’

  Sumner gave a half smile. A smile with resolve and rock-steady grit behind it. ‘A day will come I’ll be back in the Territory. When I’m ready. When the time is right. And I’ll be looking for you. Both of you.’

  ‘I ever see you again, you goddamn worm, I’ll shoot you on sight!’ Pritchard yelled at him.

  ‘And then we’ll leave your carcass for the buzzards to feed on,’ Guthrie said breathlessly.

  Sumner elbowed past them and left the building. By noon, he had retrieved his horse and was riding out. Heading back to Texas.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Sumner rode hard that first day out of Fort Sill, wanting to put it as far behind him as possible. He rode through arid, desolate country for a few hours, sweating heavily. By late afternoon he had crossed over into Texas.

  It was less than another hour when he came to a little village called Butte Junction. It was mostly just a hot wide single street lined with stores, two storey houses, a tiny hotel and a saloon. Sumner was exhausted. He stopped at the saloon, tied the roan to a long hitching post, and went inside.

  When he got in there, he saw the place was already fairly crowded prior to the evening’s rush. He ordered a beer, and ate a complimentary boiled egg with it. As he was finishing the egg, a cowpoke from a nearby table called out to him. ‘Hey, mister! We need a fourth over here for poker. Want to get rich?’

  Sumner hesitated. He had just a few dollars. But if he won, he might be able to afford a room at the hotel down the street. He shrugged, and walked with his beer over to the table. ‘Boys, I can sit in a couple of hands, I reckon.’

  ‘Take some weight off.’ The cowpoke grinned. ‘These two boys are already bankrupting me. This one over here from our ranch.’ He indicated a lanky cowboy. ‘That one works for the place here.’ He gestured toward the fourth man at a table, a professional gambler employed by the saloon. The cowboy nodded, but the gambler just gave Sumner a narrow, sober look.

  ‘My pleasure,’ Sumner said quietly, as he seated himself. ‘But don’t take me down too fast, boys. I have a horse to feed.’

  The cowboy who had invited him over laughed, and then started a deal. Around the room there was a lot of loud talking and laughing, and a small man at the far rear was pounding out a tinny tune on an old piano. At the bar, voices were raised for a moment, and then a drunken cowboy threw a punch at another man and the fellow went down and stayed there. Both cowpokes at Sumner’s table laughed loudly, but the gambler just shook his head.

  ‘All right boys,’ the dealer was saying. ‘That’s the best I can do for you. Make your bets and hold your breath.’

  The gambler won the first hand. The other players grumbled a bit, and then the other cowboy was dealing. Sumner got three aces and won the hand. A satisfied look crossed his face. He could get a hotel room now, if he didn’t lose it back to them. When the gambler dealt, he won again but then Sumner won the next three hands. He was getting great cards. At his last win, he had a small pile of coins and paper money before him.

  ‘You been giving me some good cards,’ he told the table. ‘I might just call it a night. I want to see if there’s a room left at the hotel down the street.’

  But suddenly there was a revolver in the gambler’s hand, and he was scowling at Sumner. ‘You ain’t going nowhere, trail drifter.’

  The two cowboys looked solemnly at him, and at a couple of tables close by, the drinkers stopped talking and turned
to see the gun in the gambler’s hand.

  ‘Hey, Murdoch.’ The first cowboy frowned. ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘How have you been getting all them good hands?’ Murdoch asked Sumner in a low voice. ‘You working a system on us, boy?’

  Sumner sighed and shook his head. ‘I don’t know any systems. You boys been giving me those cards. What I won was fair and square. And you can put that gun away, mister. As you can see, I’m not carrying.’

  ‘I can get you a gun,’ Murdoch growled. ‘Why ain’t you armed? Afraid somebody will shoot you for stealing their money?’

  The entire room had quieted down now, and the piano had gone silent.

  ‘I just got out of prison,’ Sumner replied evenly, holding the other man’s brittle gaze. ‘I haven’t had a chance to get one yet.’

  All three looked at him differently. ‘Was you at that State Prison down south of here?’ the cowboy said who invited Sumner.

  Sumner nodded, and swigged the last of his beer. ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Wait a minute,’ Murdoch said. ‘You ain’t that boy that took down Walcott and them other two murderers? About seven, eight years ago?’

  Sumner sighed. ‘You got me nailed, l guess.’

  ‘Sumner,’ Murdoch said to himself. ‘Wesley, ain’t it?’

  ‘I’m sorry my reputation precedes me.’

  Murdoch holstered his revolver, ‘Well, I’ll be damned.’

  ‘I shot them down in cold blood,’ Sumner said softly.

  ‘Jesus!’ the second cowpoke said in a half-whisper.

  ‘Them low-lifes got just what they deserved,’ Murdoch said. ‘That sonofabitch Walcott murdered my older brother for some petty cash in his cabin. I was looking for him, too.’

  ‘He raped and murdered my aunt,’ Sumner said. And it occurred to him in that moment that Judge Gabriel had never asked him why he had been in Texas State Prison. If he had, Sumner figured, Sumner might have swung from the scaffold outside the jail.

  ‘If that bastard didn’t go to hell, there ain’t no use having one,’ Murdoch muttered.

  ‘Glad you feel that way,’ Sumner told him. ‘Some folks took it bad, the way it happened.’