Sabrina's Man

by Gilbert, Morris

  “That young man sure got a rotten deal,” Micah Satterfield said. He was talking to his deputy, Zeb Willis. They were both seated in the sheriff ’s office.

  “He sure did.” The deputy was a tall, lean man with a ferocious mustache and a pair of mild blue eyes. “As I see it, he let himself in for it. Must be a trusting sort of fellow, signing his business and house over to Barton like he did.”

  “Yes, I guess he was trusting. He always was an easygoing man. Don’t know if he’ll ever trust anybody again.”

  “Well, trusting someone to keep something for you is dangerous business. I think he’ll have trouble getting his money back.”

  “He thought Barton was his friend,” the sheriff said. He remembered now how Waco had unloaded to him, and the sheriff knew there was really no recourse for Waco Smith to regain his business or his woman. But he had to check out every opportunity.

  A silence fell between the two men. Then Willis said, “I hear he’s staying drunk most of the time.”

  “Yes, he is, and that’s different, too.”

  “Well, I don’t know where he’s getting the money, but he’s sure trying to drink the Golden Nugget dry.”

  “Waco never was a real drinking man. Never any trouble in that way.”

  “I reckon he thinks he’s got a good excuse. Bad enough to have to go to that war, but to come home and find your best friend skipped out with your cash and your woman. That’s tough.” Zeb leaned back and said thoughtfully, “You know he’s got a pretty hard look in his eyes. I don’t blame him a bit.”

  “Well, he’s been hurt pretty bad. Last night I went by to try to talk him out of drinking, and he said, ‘They done me in, Sheriff, but they won’t do it again.’ You know, I don’t think he was talking just about Barton and that woman. He’s not going to trust anybody for a long time.”

  The deputy got up and left, leaving Satterfield to his thoughts. He sat for a long time, trying to think of a way to trace Barton, but knew there was little he could do.

  Finally he looked up to see Waco and called out, “Come and sit.”

  Waco stopped, hesitated, then came and lowered himself into a chair. He said nothing.

  Finally Satterfield said, “Well, you got to put this behind you, Waco.”

  “How do you do that?” Waco’s voice was harsh and had an edge to it.

  His eyes, as the sheriff had noticed, were hard and sharp, something unusual for him. “You need some money?”

  “No. I got a little grubstake. My grandmother left me a little plot of land. I sold it. My partner didn’t know about it, or he’d have that money, too.”

  “Well, why don’t you go back into business, Waco. The town is booming and—”

  “Nope, I’m pulling out.”

  “But you’ve got friends here.”

  “It’s not the same anymore. I need to get away.”

  “I sort of figured you might. Where will you head for?”

  “Someplace far out in the woods where the only company will be squirrels and timber wolves.”

  Micah Satterfield was a student of men, and he studied the stubborn cast to Waco’s face. The two had been close, and with a heavy heart he realized this was not the same happy young fellow he had known before the war. The easy ways and the careless manners were gone. What he saw now was a man filled with cynicism that obviously was turning into something much worse.

  Finally Waco shook his head and said, “I’ve had enough of people to do me for a lifetime. This is probably good-bye. I’m leaving early in the morning.”

  “Keep in touch. Drop me a line when you can.”

  “I won’t promise that. I never was much for writing.”

  Something much like grief touched Micah Satterfield. He hated to see a man go wrong, and if he ever saw a man on the way down, it was Waco Smith. “Look, boy, it’s not the end of the world. Not everybody’s a crook like your partner was. Not everybody’s a hussy like that woman was.”

  Waco shook his head and said, “No, I’m going to get out of here. Far away from everything I know. I don’t know where I’ll go. Maybe get on a ship and go to England or somewhere.”

  “You won’t like it there.”

  “Probably not.” Waco put out his hand and gripped the sheriff ’s hand hard. “You’ve been good to me, Micah. I know it won’t please you, but I think I found a place where I can just live and won’t have to fool with any man or woman.”

  “Where’s that?”

  “Indian territory. Out in Oklahoma at the edge of Arkansas. Judge Parker is out there now, but he’s got some marshals. It’s a huge territory. A man can do anything he pleases.”

  Satterfield shook his head. “No. No man can do that. There’s still laws and rules.”

  “I’m through with all that,” Waco said. “So long, Sheriff.” He turned abruptly and walked outside.

  Satterfield stared at the door, shook his head, then murmured, “He’s headed the wrong way, and there’s not anything I can do to stop him.”

  Waco had pushed his way slowly westward, and as long as he had money, he stopped at small towns and drank himself insensible at bars. He would then carry a bottle with him and get drunk on the way.

  The whiskey destroyed something in him. He had not known alcohol could have this much effect. All he knew was that he had lost his good opinion of men, and at some point on his journey he reached a conclusion that he never would have thought of back in earlier days. “I’ll take what I want as long as I live.” That was the sum of his philosophy. It gave him a grim satisfaction to realize that he was headed for the one place in the United States where that would be totally possible—the Indian Nations where the only law were a few scattered marshals who could not possibly keep up with all the wrongdoers.

  He was almost to Oklahoma when he drew up and saw that a wagon was pulling up close behind him. He pulled Sarge over and hid behind a bush. He saw that it was a Union Army wagon. They’re bound to have some money on there. At least those soldier boys will have, he thought. I’ll get what they’ve got in their pockets. Pulling his pistol, he waited until they were close enough then stepped out and called loudly, “Pull up there, or I’ll shoot!”

  One man was driving the wagon; two more were on horseback. One of them immediately reached for his gun.

  Waco fired, not to kill but just close enough where the man might have heard the bullet whizzing by his ear. “If you want to die, go ahead and pull for that gun,” Waco called out and was gratified to see that the man stopped. “No shooting,” he said. “Now, you two drop your weapons and get off your horses. You get out of that wagon, sonny.” He waited until all three men were down and were disarmed. “Okay, you head back down the road. If I still see you in five minutes, I’ll shoot you.”

  The three stared at him and saw something in his face that kept them silent. “Come on,” the oldest of them said. “Let’s get out of here. We’re not going to die for this.”

  Waco watched until they were mere blue dots down the road, and then he climbed into the wagon. He found more than he bargained for. There was a strongbox there. It was locked, but he shot the lock off and opened it up. “Look at that,” he said. It was filled with papers, but there was also a pile of gold coins. He looked at the papers and discovered that this was the payroll for a small fort almost in Oklahoma. He found a sack, put the gold coins in it, cut the horses loose, and then mounted Sarge after tying the gold to his saddlebag. “Come on, Sarge, we got financing.”

  The horse leaped ahead, and Waco Smith, for one moment, had some sort of guilt. He had never stolen anything before except for some livestock, mostly chickens, when he was in the army. But this was a different Waco Smith. He reached into his saddlebag, got out the whiskey bottle, drained it, and threw it away. “Well, here’s my new rule,” he announced to the air. “I’m going to do what I please and take what I want!”

  CHAPTER 6

  Indian Territory, April 1870

  Trey LeBeau leaned back and threw his
cards on the table. There were several men there, including the James brothers, Frank and Jesse. His band included five other men, but only Al Munro and Zeno Shaw were at the card table.

  Trey let his eyes go over to the woman who sat at the table, not playing cards but just simply sitting and watching. Calandra Montevado, whom everyone called Callie, was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She had a pure olive complexion and large almond-shaped eyes with long lashes. The color was blue, a particular shade of blue. He had seen a stone that was called lapis lazuli. Her eyes were that particular shade of blue. She had hair as black as the darkest thing in nature and sensuous lips.

  He let his eyes rest on her, admiring her figure as usual. She lifted her glance and met his gaze coolly. They had been together now for nearly a year, and he had never gotten the best of her in any way. In any case, she added something to his life that was missing.

  “We got to pick up somebody to take Butch’s place,” Al Munro said. He was a small man with pale blue eyes and hair that was prematurely white. A deadly man with a gun, a knife, or any other weapon.

  “I don’t know where we’d get one,” LeBeau said.

  Zeno Shaw was the biggest man at the table. He was six feet two and weighed well over two hundred pounds. He had brown hair and brown eyes and was a ferocious saloon fighter. He was not particularly accurate with a gun, but in any activity requiring brute strength he was a good man to have. He glanced over at LeBeau and said, “You might think about that fellow Waco Smith. I’ve heard lots of talk about him.”

  “He wouldn’t be interested,” Callie said. “He’s a loner. He takes what he wants, but he’s not a killer. Not like you fellas.”

  The insult, if that was what it was, did not move the other men from the table. Frank James said, “Why don’t you look into it.” He glanced over and said, “Jesse and me are going to be leaving pretty soon. We’re going back to civilization.”

  Jesse James smiled slightly. “Yeah, this is hard living here, Trey.”

  “Pretty safe though. You go back to Missouri or somewhere, you’ll have sheriffs and deputies and all kinds of lawdogs on your trail all the time. Here all we got is a few marshals.”

  “I don’t like it here,” Jesse James said. “You better look into this fellow Smith. What’s he like?”

  “Well, he’s evidently pretty tough. I’ve never met him. I don’t think many have. He stays in the territory mostly with Indians. I hear Judge Parker has put a special price on his head.”

  “If he ain’t a killer, I don’t know how we can use him,” Al Munro said.

  “The man will do what he needs to do if there’s enough money involved.” LeBeau nodded. “But anyway it’s a good idea. I wonder where he is?”

  Frank James said, “I heard some talk about him when I was over at Travis’s store. He’s around there somewhere. He comes in for supplies.”

  “That’s not far from here,” Trey said. “What do you say we go look him over, Callie?”

  “That sounds good to me. I’m bored with watching you men lose at cards.”

  LeBeau laughed and said, “Come on. We can be there in two hours.”

  As they were on their way, LeBeau said, “You watch out for Waco Smith. Stay away from him.”

  Callie laughed. “You don’t own me, Trey. Don’t tell me what to do.”

  They reached Travis’s store and were surprised at how easy it was to find the man called Waco Smith.

  “He comes in here pretty often, but he’s got a camp over by Red Canyon.” Travis, the barkeep, explained how to get there. “I wouldn’t try to sneak up on him though. He’s as quick as a snake with that. 44 of his.”

  “Oh, it’s just a friendly visit.”

  The two mounted again, and two hours later, as Travis had said, they came upon a camp, but they did not get far before a voice said, “Hold it right where you are.”

  Immediately Trey LeBeau held up his hands. “No trouble. We come friendly.”

  Callie glanced around and saw a man emerge from behind some bushes. He was very tall with black hair and a tapered face. He had a coppery tan, and he held a. 44 loose in his hand. Not pointing it at them, just saying that it was there.

  “I’m Trey LeBeau.”

  “I’m Waco Smith.”

  “Sure,” Trey said. “We come looking for you. This is Callie Montevado.”

  “I’m glad to know you, Miss Callie. Why are you looking for me?”

  “Is it all right if we get down and talk?”

  “Sure. Just be careful that you don’t make any moves that would set me off. I’m a nervous type.”

  “I doubt that.” Trey smiled, and his eyes crinkled when he did. He stepped off his horse, as did Callie, and kept his hands carefully away from the gun. “The thing is, I’ve got a pretty good bunch of boys. We’ve taken in quite a bit of coin. Somebody said you might be interested in joining up with us.”

  “I don’t think so. I’m doing all right on my own.”

  “Well, we can talk about it, can’t we?”

  “Sure. Come on and sit on the front porch.”

  The three sat down in front of a shack that at least had a porch with a roof on it.

  Waco brought out a bottle and three glasses. “If you’re dry, this is pretty good whiskey.”

  “Any whiskey is good whiskey,” Trey said. When he swallowed it, his eyes flew open, and he gasped. “That’s like liquid fire.”

  “Yeah, the Indians like it.”

  “What are you doing out here all by yourself?” Callie asked.

  “That’s what I am. All by myself. I got tired of people back East. Here I do as I please.”

  “You couldn’t be making much coin selling whiskey to the Indians.”

  “I don’t need much.”

  “Of course you do. Every man needs a lot. Look, you go in with us, and in six months you’d have enough cash you wouldn’t have to sell whiskey to the Indians.”

  “Well, tell me about it.”

  Trey was a good talker, and for a while he outlined the plan for making money. “Robbing trains, that’s where it’s at. My boys are good at that, but like I say, we lost a man.”

  “You don’t know me.”

  “Well, you don’t know me either. You watch me and I’ll watch you.”

  “I wouldn’t do it if I were you, Smith,” Callie said.

  Her remark obviously interested Waco. “Why not, Miss Callie?”

  “You just look like a loner.”

  “That’s what I intend to be.”

  “Callie, you keep out of this,” LeBeau protested. “We need some help.”

  The conversation went on for an hour, and Trey was pleased to see that Waco was interested.

  Waco said finally, “Well, I’ll come along with you, and we’ll see if I fit. If I don’t, I can always come back.”

  “Sure. We’re not too far away from here. You can come back anytime.” As they shook hands, Trey was mentally counting all the money Waco Smith was going to help them take from all those unsuspecting trains.

  Waco had been welcomed by LeBeau’s band. Frank and Jesse James were gone, but the rest of them seemed to find him acceptable. It was not that he did anything, but they were careful in their movements around him for they had heard he was deadly with a gun. He did not have the reputation of a killer, but he had pulled and drawn on several men before they could even move.

  One interesting thing was that Callie seemed to be fascinated by him. They went on several brief hunting trips together, and on one of them she said, “You have many sweethearts, Waco?”

  “I almost had one once, but she didn’t love me.”

  “Did she say that? Tell you she didn’t love you?”

  “No, she waited until I was gone to war, and then she ran off with my best friend. He was my partner in business.” A wry expression touched his face. “He took all I had.”

  She was quiet for a while before she said, “Trey is jealous of me. Haven’t you noticed how he looks
at you when we go out together?”

  “I’ve noticed.”

  “Are you afraid of him?”

  He grinned. “All LeBeau can do is kill me, and he couldn’t kill me but once.”

  “Doesn’t that bother you?”

  “No.”

  She suddenly said, “What do you feel for me?”

  “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.”

  They were sitting under a tree, and he read an invitation in her eyes. He reached forward, pulled her close, and kissed her. She lay soft in his arms. Then she put her arms around him and drew him closer. Her warmth became a part of him, and her nearness brought up a constant, never-lessening want. He was conscious of her in a way he had never been conscious of any woman, not even Alice.

  The effect of the kiss worked at him. They were along the edge of the same mystery every other man and woman face, neither of them knowing what good would come of it, nor what tragedy. As she pulled him closer, she knew what they shared was physical and not a thing of the spirit.

  LeBeau was being taunted by Al Munro about losing his woman. “You shouldn’t have let that good-looking guy come in. Callie is crazy about him.”

  “Shut up, Al!”

  Munro knew better than to go too far, but humor was in his eyes, a sly humor that LeBeau did not miss. Thirty minutes later, Waco and Callie came in, returning from one of their trips. As soon as they were inside, Trey said, “Everybody sit down. We’re going to make a big haul. We’re wasting time robbing trains for watches and rings. This one is going to have a good gold shipment.”

  “How do you know that?” Rufo Aznar said. He was Mexican, trim with an olive complexion and dark eyes. He had a knife scar on the right side of his face. “They didn’t send you an invitation, did they?”

  “No, I paid a lot of money to find out.”

  “Money to who?” Waco asked instantly.