Presently, the signs bore to the east again. The country was much too open for Tyrell’s liking, and he dismounted and led his horse by the reins.
The sun was well up in the afternoon sky when Tyrell came to a stand of oaks. He tied the reins and crept to the opposite side. A quarter of a mile farther east was a belt of trees. He could see figures moving among them—Axel’s bunch.
To the north, about a mile, stood a farmhouse and barn. With a start, he realized it was the Sether place.
Tyrell took off his hat and scratched his head. He was at a loss what to do. He couldn’t go riding up to that many armed men and demand they tell him what they were up to. And he couldn’t reach Roy Sether’s house without being seen. His only recourse was to sit and wait.
Sinking down, Tyrell plucked a blade of grass and stuck it between his teeth. He’d rather be back with Bessie. He imagined the two of them on her settee, imagined him being bold enough to take her hand, imagined …
“Move and you’re dead,” said a voice behind him, and a hard object touched the back of his head.
Tyrell froze.
The man who called himself Axel Jones came around in front of him, a revolver cocked and steady in his hand. “Fancy meetin’ you again,” he said.
Since the hard object was still pressed to the back of Tyrell’s head, he knew there was someone else behind him. “What is this?”
“You shouldn’t have stuck your big nose in,” Axel said.
“How did you spot me?”
“I’m good at what I do.”
“And what is it you do, exactly?”
“You haven’t guessed yet?”
The man behind Tyrell said, “We can’t just kill him. He’s a lawman.”
“So?” Axel said.
“Discreet, remember?” the other man said.
“Discreet hell,” Axel said. “He can identify me.” And with that, he bent and drew a dagger from his boot and plunged it into Tyrell’s chest.
39
It was Martha who came up with the idea. Along about the middle of the afternoon she’d turned to Roy and said, “I don’t want Rondo to go yet. To show him how grateful we are we should hold a farewell gathering. Invite the Klines and the Beards. Andy can ride over and invite them.”
Roy had stared at her. This was the same woman who’d wanted him to force the Southerner to leave.
“Well?” Martha prompted when he didn’t respond. “What do you think?”
“I think it’s a wonderful idea, dear,” Roy tactfully told her.
Now it was close to evening. The sun was low on the horizon and would soon set. Two buckboards were parked out front. The women were in the kitchen seeing to refreshments and chatting up a storm. Roy sat in the parlor with Tom and Moses, drinking beer.
“You’re lucky you’re still alive,” Tom was saying, and sipped. “You say you hauled the bodies out and buried them and you’re not going to tell anyone?”
“Not even the marshal?” Moses asked.
“I was going to, yes,” Roy said, “but Rondo pointed out they could have friends who might come after us. He says he’s seen it happen before.”
“He should know,” Moses said.
Tom nodded. “Where is the guest of honor, anyhow? Shouldn’t he be here?”
“He should,” Roy said, and rose. “I’ll go see what’s keeping him.” He set his glass on the table and went out and over to the barn. He stopped when he heard voices, and peeked in.
General Lee was out of his stall and saddled. Rondo James was standing next to the Palomino with his arms folded, smiling.
Matt was petting it. “One day I want a horse like yours. He’s awful fine.”
“He’s the best friend I have,” Rondo said.
“A horse?” Matt laughed. “I thought only people can be friends.”
“Anything can be. A horse, a dog, a cat. Some critters are just pets but some are friends.”
“I wish you weren’t going,” Matt said. “I’ll miss our talks.”
“You have your pa and ma to talk to,” Rondo said. “You don’t need me.”
“You’re my friend,” Matt said. “And you’re Pa’s, too, aren’t you?”
“I think highly of him,” Rondo said. “More than of most men.”
“He likes you.” Matt patted General Lee’s neck. “My ma will miss you, too. I heard her say so.”
“You have a good family, Matthew. Always be there for them and they’ll always be there for you.”
“Sir?”
Rondo straightened. “We should go in. They’re probably waitin’.”
Roy smiled and entered. “So here you are,” he said. “The party has started and you two are nowhere around.”
“I came out to say so long,” Matt said sadly.
“Plenty of time for that later.” Roy clapped him on the shoulder. “Your mother baked a pie for the occasion and I’ve never known you to pass up pie.”
Matt beamed and scooted off.
“That’s a good boy you have there,” Rondo James said.
They strolled out into the waning light. A robin was warbling. Over in the coop, the chickens were clucking and settling in for the night.
“I’m obliged for all you’ve done for me,” Rondo said. “I can never repay the debt I owe.”
“What debt? Friends help friends for free.”
The parlor was bustling. The women had come out of the kitchen and Andy and Sally had come downstairs and everyone was talking and laughing and having a fine time.
Roy reclaimed his beer and drank and mostly listened until an elbow nudged him.
“You’re quiet tonight,” Martha said.
Roy shrugged.
“You’re sorry to see him go.”
“He’s a good man. All those stories they tell aren’t true.”
“People don’t care about the truth,” Martha said. “They hear what they want to hear.” She looked around. “I’d better light the lamps. It’s getting dark out.”
“I’ll get the one in the kitchen,” Roy offered. “I need more beer, anyway.” It was a nightly ritual to light all the lamps at the same time and get it over with. He walked down the hall. The matches were in a box in a drawer under the counter. He lit the lamp and blew the match out. He was near the window, and went over and parted the curtains and gazed out over his farm. Night was on the cusp of falling. A few early stars sparkled. He was about to close the curtains when he thought he glimpsed movement, far off. A deer, maybe, although he couldn’t be sure.
Roy refilled his glass and rejoined the others. For an hour or so they made small talk, the women gay, the men doing more drinking. At one point Moses leaned toward Roy and said quietly, “This weak bladder of mine. I need to use the outhouse.”
“Can you find it or do you need help?” Roy joked.
“I haven’t had that much, thank you very much.” Moses headed down the hall to go out the back door.
Roy became involved in a conversation with Tom about planting and forgot about Moses until he was nudged a second time. Only now it was Tilda.
“Where did my husband get to?”
“Nature called,” Roy said.
“He’s been gone a good while,” Tilda mentioned. “What did he do, fall in?”
Both Roy and Tom laughed.
“I’ll go see,” Roy said. He went to the kitchen and opened the back door. A half-moon gave light to see by. He was about to step outside and call to Moses when he saw two men, crouched low, over near the outhouse, holding long guns in their hands.
For a few heartbeats Roy was riveted in astonishment. Recovering his wits, he bounded back inside. He shut the door and threw the bolt. He was about to run to the parlor when it occurred to him to douse the lamp. As he did so he saw silhouettes move across the curtains.
Roy raced down the hall to the parlor. Everyone was talking and didn’t notice him and he was about to shout a warning when he saw that the front door was opening. Without hesitation he hurtled
toward it, thinking to slam it shut and bolt it, but it swung wide before he could reach it.
Moses Beard ducked in and closed it again, saying, “There are men with guns out there.”
“I know,” Roy said.
“I was coming out of the outhouse and saw them and snuck around before they spotted me,” Moses said.
Roy reached past him and threw the bolt. “Into the parlor,” he directed, and went to follow.
The clomp of a boot on the porch warned him that more intruders were out front.
Roy ran down the hall. The conversations had ceased.
Moses was telling about the men.
“I saw them, too,” Roy confirmed.
Suddenly Rondo James was in motion. He darted to the first lamp and blew it out and sprang to the other lamp and blew it out, as well.
“What in the world?” Irene Kline blurted.
“Everyone get down,” the Southerner said. His Colt Navies glinted in the near darkness as he moved to the front window.
Careful to stand to one side, he used the barrel of a Colt to move the curtain.
Shock and disbelief had rooted most of the others.
“Do as he says,” Roy said. Turning, he took the stairs three at a stride and raced into his bedroom. He’d left his Winchester propped in a corner. Grabbing it, he moved to the window and peered out.
Below were more men with guns.
Dear God, Roy thought, how many are out there? He hurried back down. Everyone was low to the floor, Martha with her arms over Sally and Matt.
Rondo James was still at the front window.
“What’s going on?” Martha said. “Why are those men out there?”
“I intend to find out,” Roy said, and joined Rondo James.
“What do you make of it?”
“They must be after me,” the Southerner said. “I’ve brought more trouble down on your heads.”
“Maybe not,” Roy said. “Remember the McWhirtles and the Olanders? Maybe these men were to blame.”
“There are more than four,” Rondo said.
Tom Kline came over, crabbing on his hands and feet. “What do you want me to do? I didn’t think to bring a gun. I thought all this was over.”
“Listen,” Rondo said.
There was more clomping on the porch, and other sounds Roy couldn’t quite make out.
“What are they up to?” Tom whispered.
Roy was wondering the same thing. “I think they have the house surrounded.”
“One of us should go out and demand to know what they’re up to,” Tom suggested.
“They’d shoot you dead,” Rondo James said.
“You don’t know that,” Tom replied.
“We don’t need to go out,” Roy said, and raising his head, he hollered, “You on my porch! Who are you and what are you doing here?”
The noises stopped, but only for a few moments. No one answered him.
“I have half a mind to march out there and confront them,” Tom said.
“We stay put. Make them come to us,” Rondo said.
“Pa?” Sally said anxiously.
“Be still,” Martha said. “So far they haven’t done anything.”
Roy had a thought. “You women should go upstairs. Take the kids. If shooting breaks out, you’ll be safer.”
It was plain Martha didn’t want to go but she said, “Come along, children.”
A scraping noise prompted Roy to move to the other window. It looked out on the barn. He saw men going back and forth between it and the house.
Moses and Andy crept over, and Moses remarked, “It’s strange they don’t say anything.”
Roy glanced at his son. “You should be upstairs with your mother.”
“I’m not a kid,” Andy said.
Moses put an eye to the crack between the curtains. “Will you look at that. What are they carrying?”
Two men were coming from the barn with their arms filled.
Roy was filled with sudden dread. “Why, that’s hay or straw.”
The pair dumped it at the side of the house and went back for more.
“Oh God,” Roy said.
Over at the front window Rondo James gave voice to Roy’s fear. “Whoever these gents are, they’re fixin’ to set your house on fire.”
40
“Surely not,” Roy said, but there was the evidence right before his eyes: another man dropped an armful and hurried back to the barn for more.
“I don’t believe this,” Tom echoed his sentiments. “Who are they? Why would they try to burn you out?”
“Roasting people alive,” Moses said in horror. “I couldn’t ever be so cruel.”
Roy moved to the front door and pressed his ear to it. He heard footsteps, and rustling. “You out there!” he yelled. “Someone had better talk to me or we’ll start shooting.”
The sounds stopped. There was muffled talk, and after a minute someone came to the other side of the door.
“Roy Sether, I take it? I hear you threatened to start shootin’,” said a man with a drawl.
“Who are you?” Roy said.
“You don’t need to know my name,” the man said. “It wouldn’t mean anything to you if you did.”
“How many men are with you?”
The man on the other side of the door laughed.
“You can’t mean to burn my house down,” Roy said. “Not with us in it.”
“What good would it do to burn it down with you not in it?” the man said, and laughed.
“What have we done? Why are you doing this? Are you the same ones who killed the McWhirtles and the Olanders?”
“Questions, questions,” the man said.
“I want answers, damn you.”
“You should have left when you had the chance.”
“What are you talking about?”
Someone else out there made a comment and the man on the other side of the door said gruffly, “I wouldn’t talk to me like that again, were I you. I’m not an idiot. He has no idea what this is about.”
Roy said, “There are women and children in here.”
“So?”
“So you can’t mean to kill them, too.”
“Why not?”
Anger burst in Roy like a cannonball. He stepped back and pointed the Winchester at the door—and then lowered it. The men outside might riddle the house in retaliation. “Please,” he said. “I’m sure we can talk this out.”
“I’m sure we can’t,” the man said.
“I won’t let you burn my house down.”
“Listen, farmer,” the man said. “We have the doors covered. We have every window covered. You try to bust out and you’ll be shot in your tracks.”
“Why?” Roy cried.
“Because you’re a flea on a mean dog and the dog is about to scratch you off.”
“That makes no sense.”
“Not to you,” the man said, and his drawl disappeared. “You have it so cozy, you have blinders on.”
“Are you drunk?” Roy said.
“Listen. This valley of yours, Thunder Valley, is a nice place to live. Everyone is kind and polite and looks out for their neighbor. Isn’t that how it is?”
“More or less,” Roy said, puzzled as to what the man was getting at.
“Outside this valley life isn’t cozy. Life is dog-eat-dog, Sether. The big dogs eat the little dogs and you are a little dog.”
“People aren’t dogs,” was all Roy could think of to say.
The man laughed. “Anything else you want to know?”
“You haven’t told me anything.”
“Yes, I have,” the man said. “You haven’t listened.”
Moses had come up behind Roy and cleared his throat, “I have a question, mister.”
“Who might you be?”
“Moses Beard. I have a farm down the road. My wife and I came over to visit.”
“The wrong place at the wrong time,” the man said. “You should have picked another night
. What’s your question, Mr. Beard?”
“How do you plan to get away with this? A federal marshal is in Teton. He’ll hear about it and call up a posse and track you down.”
“Wishful thinking.”
“How so?”
“He’s dead.”
“No!” Moses exclaimed.
Roy smothered a growing sense of despair. “You’re just saying that.”
“I stabbed him myself,” the man bragged.
“I’d like to stab you,” Roy bristled.
“Now you’re learnin’,” the man said, his drawl back.
Roy had more to say but a hand tapped him on the shoulder.
It was Rondo James. The Southerner put a finger to his lips and motioned for Roy and Moses to move away from the door. When they were out of earshot, the pistoleer whispered, “You know what he’s doin’, don’t you?”
“What?” Roy said.
“Stallin’ so those others can pile as much as they want around your house.”
Roy hadn’t thought of that. “We have to stop them.”
“There’s only one thing we can do,” Rondo James said. “A whole lot of people are about to die.”
The pain brought Tyrell back. He was adrift in a black abyss, floating as if on air, when a sharp pang made him open his eyes and gasp for breath. His vision swam, and he blinked to clear it. His chest felt wet, and his arms and legs were tingling.
Tyrell was on his back under the trees. He tried to rise onto his elbows but he was too weak. Around him the night was still and quiet. He remembered the men who jumped him, remembered the burning sensation when the dagger plunged into his chest.
“I’m still breathin’?” Tyrell marveled. The only explanation was that the blade had missed his heart. He looked down at himself. Even in the dark he could see a stain. He managed to move his right hand to his chest and groped his shirt. It was wet but he hadn’t bled nearly as much as he’d expect. He pried at the buttons and slipped two fingers underneath. As best he could tell, the knife had glanced off his sternum.
“I’m lucky as can be,” Tyrell said. He braced himself and got his elbows under him. From there it wasn’t too difficult to prop himself against an oak and slowly sit up. His strength was returning.
Tyrell’s elation at being alive evaporated. He’d been careless. Axel Jones and the others should never have caught on that he was trailing them.
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