“Time was changed, Mr. Morgan. High noon.”
“Any word from Marshal Handlen?”
“Not that I know of. You reckon he’ll even come back out here?”
Frank shrugged his shoulders. “You never know. Man gets back with family he hasn’t seen in years . . .” He let that trail off into silence.
“You got any family, Mr. Morgan?”
Frank shook his head. “I ’spect I’ve got some cousins and such scattered here and there. But I don’t know where. You?”
“I got some folks back East, but I ain’t seen or heard from none of them in years. I come out here right after the war.” He paused for a moment. “Man ought to have some family to grieve for him when he goes to meet his Maker, don’t you think?”
“Laying in the casket, you think the dead knows who’s at his burying?”
“That’s deep thinkin’, Mr. Morgan. Goes over my head. I don’t rightly know. Who would know?”
“The Good Lord, I reckon. But He don’t talk to me.”
“Me neither. Least in no way that I understand.”
Frank walked outside and stood on the boardwalk, looking up and down the silent empty street. He knew he should walk over to the church, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. It had been a long time since he had stepped inside a church and felt comfortable doing so. He turned his head at the sounds of footsteps on the boardwalk. Doc Everett was heading toward him.
“Howdy, Doc,” Frank said. “You going to the funeral?”
“No. I hate them. Barbaric things. You?”
“No.” The two men stood without speaking for a moment. Frank said, “I would offer to buy you lunch, but the cafe is closed.”
“No matter. I saw you ride in with the bodies hung over the saddles. Snake riders?”
“Yes. They were going to burn down some farmhouses.”
Doc Everett cussed for a few seconds. “Whole damn fight is senseless. Plenty of land for everybody in these valleys.”
“But the colonel wants to be king, right?”
“That’s as good a way to put it as any, I suppose.”
“With him out of the way, would Bullard and Gilmar settle down?”
“I doubt it. They’re both envious of the colonel’s holdings. With him out of the picture, they’d turn on each other, and the winner of that would turn on the farmers. Hell, it might even be worse than now.”
The men stood for a moment and watched as three riders came into view from the edge of town.
“Can you see the brands?” Doc Everett asked.
“Yes, but I don’t recognize them.”
The three riders drew closer.
“Ah,” Doc Everett said. “I know who they are now. They’re cowhands, not gunfighters. Two work for the Snake, one for the. 45.”
“Surely they know about the funeral.”
“I’m sure they do.”
Frank took note of the fat saddlebags and the thick bedrolls behind the saddles. “I think they’re pulling out, Doc.”
“If so, that’s not a good sign.”
“No. It isn’t.”
Doc waved the men over and greeted them. “You know Frank Morgan?”
“Not personal,” the cowboy Doc had addressed as Fred said. “Sure heard of him.”
“You boys look like you’re pulling out,” the doctor said.
“For a fact,” the .45 rider replied. “We don’t want no part of this war that’s shapin’ up. It’s gonna be bad.”
“Bullard paying fighting wages?” Frank asked.
“Sure is. First-rate. And he’s gettin’ some real bad boys signin’ on.”
“Most of the old Lightnin’ hands is gone,” Fred said. “Drifted out last week. I reckon we’re about the last of the regular hands on the Snake.”
“You heard about Shelley Wilson?”
“Yes,” said the .45 rider. “Late last night we did. That done it for me.”
“And us,” the third rider said, jerking a thumb toward Fred. “I ain’t makin’ war on kids.”
“Who killed the child?” Frank asked.
The three men exchanged quick glances before Fred spoke. “The bushwhacker from Kansas, we heard. Goes by the name of Orin.”
“Orin Mathison?” Frank asked.
“That’s him. Big ol’ boy. Uses one of them bolt-action rifles.”
“He’s been around for a time,” the third rider said. “He’s gettin’ paid good by all three of the big ranchers. Top money for killin’.”
“You know him, Frank?” Doc Everett asked.
“Never met him. But I’ve heard about him for years. Mainly that he’s a sorry son of a bitch.”
“That’s him, all right,” Fred said. “He’s about the most disagreeable feller I ever met, for a fact. Don’t nobody like him.”
“Hell, why should they?” the third rider said. “He won’t socialize with nobody. Never smiles or kids around. And he don’t bathe much neither.”
“Sounds like a delightful fellow,” Doc Everett said dryly.
“A stone-cold killer, Doc,” Frank said. “Absolutely no conscience. He’ll kill anything or anybody for money.”
“From hiding, though,” Doc replied.
“Usually. But he’s damn quick with a pistol too. Never sell him short in that way.”
The three drifting cowboys said good-bye and rode on south.
“That about tells how this situation is shaping up, Frank,” Doc Everett said. “It’s going to get plenty bloody.”
“Sure looks that way.”
Slow, sad music began inside the church, the sound drifting faintly to Doc Everett and Frank. Frank did not recognize the song.
“You going to the burying ground, Frank?” Doc asked.
“I don’t plan to. You?”
“No. I see enough of death in my work.”
“You believe in God, Doc?”
“I believe there is a higher power. That answer your question?”
“I reckon so.”
“You were probably asking about heaven and hell, right?”
“I guess so.”
“Well . . . I think there might be a heaven. You see, I don’t believe the soul dies. Just the shell that contained the soul for a brief period of time.”
“Where does the soul go?”
“Beats the hell out of me, Frank,” the doctor said, then lifted his hat and walked off, a smile on his lips.
Frank smiled faintly and walked over to the undertaker’s. No one answered his knock on the door and the door was locked.
Frank sat down on the edge of the boardwalk and rolled a cigarette. He’d wait until the service was over and then escort Julie and the kids back home.
The service was a long one and Frank had smoked several cigarettes before it ended. The church emptied and the mourners headed for their wagons and buggies and horses for the ride over to the graveyard. Frank walked the short distance to the graveside services, and stood by the fence until it was over. When John Simmons walked up, Frank waved him over and told him about the riders he’d intercepted that morning.
“You put the bodies in the livery?” the banker asked.
“Yes. Tell the undertaker he can have their guns and saddles and whatever’s in their pockets for burying them. The horses are wearing the Snake brand.”
“I doubt that Trainor will ever come in to lay claim to them.”
“Probably not. I just wanted you to know that.”
“I’ll take care of it. Are you going to see Miss Julie home?”
“That was my intention.”
“Good. She’s going to need some tender care for a time.”
“I’ll do my best, John.”
“I know you will, Frank. There she comes now. I’ll be getting along.”
“See you.”
Julie walked to Frank’s side, and he put an arm around her and held her for a moment. “The kids riding back alone?”
“Yes. But not to the house.”
�
�You mean? ...” Frank let that dangle.
“They’ve got to go see their sweethearts. They both told me and openly dared me to do something about it!”
“Settle down, Julie. You want me to talk to them?”
“No, Frank. I want you to take me back to the house and stay with me for a time.”
“What about Phil and Katie?”
She looked at him in silence for a moment, and then walked away, toward the buggy parked at the edge of the graveyard.
“I ought to find those damn kids and beat their butts,” Frank muttered. Then he shook that thought out of his head and walked toward Julie. He caught up with her and took her arm. “They’re just kids, Julie. They don’t understand the finality of death or what Shelley’s death has done to you. Times are changing. It’s not like the way it was when we were kids. Kids are softer now. Times are so much better.”
“If you say so.”
“Maybe you should visit your sister in California, Julie. Get away for a time.”
“I don’t think so. We never got along. We haven’t written in years. I don’t even know if she’s still in California or if she’s still alive.”
Frank helped her into the buggy and drove down to the livery. He tied the Ap to the rear of the buggy and headed for home.
Julie was silent and stone-faced.
Frank gave up on conversation after the first mile.
FOURTEEN
Frank stayed with Julie the rest of the afternoon, then stayed for supper. As nightfall approached, even Frank was getting worried about the twins.
“I’d better go look for them,” he said, reaching for his hat.
“Let me change and I’ll go with you,” Julie said.
“We can’t take the buckboard, Julie. I’ll be headed cross-country.”
“I’ll change into britches and ride my horse.”
“Men’s britches?”
“Certainly.”
Frank stared at her for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders. “Times sure are moving fast,” he muttered.
Julie turned to leave the room. Then both of them paused as the sounds of a galloping horse reached them. They both headed for the door, and stepped out into the waning light just as Katie reined up and almost fell out of the saddle. Frank grabbed her and steadied her, helping her to the ground.
“Phil!” the girl sobbed. “They’ve got him.”
“Who’s got him?” Frank asked.
“Mr. Gilmar and his men. He broke away from them once and yelled for me and Donnie to run. Then one of the hands roped him. Mama, they’re going to horsewhip him.”
“Why?” Julie shouted.
“One of the hands caught Phil and Betty Lou in the woods.”
“Doing what?” Julie snapped the question.
“You know,” Katie said. “Without any clothes.”
“Oh, God!” Julie whispered.
“Where are they?” Frank asked.
“Just south of the crossroads, Mr. Morgan. Where that spring bubbles up and starts the creek.”
Frank pushed the girl toward her mother. “Take care of her. I’ll find Phil and bring him back.”
Phil was still tied to a tree when Frank got to the spring. He had been stripped naked and horsewhipped, his back, buttocks, and legs a maze of bloody welts and cuts. Before he was horsewhipped, somebody had beaten him savagely. Phil was unconscious.
Young Phil’s horse was nearby, where he’d been ground-reined. Frank got the horse and led him over before he freed Phil and gently laid him on the ground. He found the boy’s pants and got them on him, then hoisted him into the saddle and tied him there.
“Stay unconscious, boy,” Frank said. “It’ll be easier on you if you do.”
Phil moaned several times on the long, slow ride back to the farm, but mercifully, he didn’t wake up.
Julie met them in the yard. One look at her son and the tears started. “We don’t have time for any of that,” Frank told her. “You get some blankets while I get the buckboard ready.” Frank carefully lowered Phil to the ground. He pointed a finger at Katie. “And you help your mother, young lady.”
“Yes, sir,” the girl said softly.
Frank quickly hitched up the buckboard and spread hay in the back so Phil could ride more comfortably. Then he pulled around to the front of the house and placed the young man on the hay. Julie got in back with her son.
“Get up here and take the reins,” Frank told Katie. “You take it slow and easy, girl.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, settling down on the seat. She twisted around to look at her mother. “I’m sorry, Mama,” she said. “I really am.”
“I know you are,” Julie said. “It’s all right, Katie.”
“The hell it is,” Frank said as he swung into the saddle. “But we’ll talk about that later. Let’s go,” he ordered.
It was a quiet ride into town, with little conversation and only the occasional moan from the badly injured Phil.
The town of Heaven was just about to go dark for the night when they rolled into the main street. Frank rode ahead to alert the doctor. Within minutes, a crowd was gathering outside the doctor’s office.
Doc Everett lifted the thin blanket that covered Phil and swore under his breath. “Who did this, Frank?”
“Gilmar and some of his men. They caught Phil with Betty Lou doing . . . ah . . . well, you know.”
“Wonderful. I suppose that fool Gilmar thought he could undo what had been done by beating the boy half to death.” He looked around him. “Some of you men standing around make yourselves useful and get the boy into my office. Come on, move.”
“I’ll arrange for rooms at the hotel, Julie,” Frank told her. “You and Katie will need some rest and some place to freshen up.”
“Thank you, Frank.” She turned and went into the office.
Frank waited outside, on a bench on the boardwalk.
John Simmons walked up and said, “You look tired, Frank.”
Frank looked up. “I am, John. It’s been a damn long day.”
“How bad is the boy?”
“Oh, I don’t think he’s in any danger of dying. But he’ll carry the marks of the beating for a long time.”
“And many of the scars will be in his mind.”
“That’s sure true.”
John Simmons walked on, leaving Frank sitting alone on the bench. The crowd gradually broke up, the men and women returning to their homes. Frank rose and walked into the doctor’s office. Phil was on the examining table, the doctor working on cleaning up the numerous cuts on the boy’s body.
“He’ll live,” Doc Everett said, glancing up as Frank entered. “I can’t find anything broken. Not physically anyway.”
“What’d you do with Julie and Katie?”
“I gave them a slug of laudanum and put them to bed in the clinic. Both of them went out quickly. Julie is emotionally exhausted.”
“For a fact she can’t take much more.” He pointed toward Phil. “Is he conscious?”
“I’m awake, Mr. Morgan,” Phil said softly. “But I sure hurt.”
“I know you do, boy. Want to tell me what happened? That is, if it’s all right with Dr. Everett.”
“If you feel up to it, boy,” the doc said.
“I do,” Phil said. “Me and Betty Lou let things get out of hand, I reckon. When . . . well, when we was done with it, we was layin’ on the ground, holdin’ each other, when all hell broke loose. Donnie and Katie was nearby. Katie screamed for us to run, but it was too late. Doc, what’s the matter with my mouth? The words is comin’ out funny-soundin’.”
“Your mouth is swollen, boy, and you’ve lost a couple of teeth. If it hurts to talk, we can stop this right now.”
“No, I want to tell it.”
“All right.”
“Anyways, Mr. Gilmar jerked Betty Lou up and threw her her clothes. Then he commenced to stompin’ on me. I broke loose and run, but one of his hands put a loop on me and drug me back. Mr. Gilmar had a
couple of his hands hold me while he beat me up some. Then they tied me to a tree and he used a whip on me. I disremember much of that ’cause I blacked out, it was hurtin’ so bad. I remember you comin’ up to me, Mr. Morgan, sort of. Then the ride into town. What happened to Betty Lou?”
“I don’t know, Phil,” Frank said. “But I’m sure she’s all right.”
“I bet her father put a belt to her,” Phil said.
“He probably did.”
“That’s enough talk,” Doc Everett said. “I’m going to move you to a bed, Phil. You try to get some sleep.”
“I’m awful tired, Dr. Everett. Am I gonna die?”
“Don’t be silly. Of course not. But you’re going to hurt like the devil. I’ll give you something for the pain and that will help you sleep.”
“All right, sir. Mr. Morgan?”
“Yes, Phil?”
“Will you do something for me?”
“If I can, sure.”
“Will you tell my mama I’m awful sorry for what happened, and will you try to find out what happened to Betty Lou?”
“I’ll do my best.”
“All right, Phil,” Doc Everett said. “Enough talk. Let’s see if you can get up and walk over to that bed in the corner. You’re going to have to sleep on your stomach for a time, so get used to it.”
When Phil was in bed and the lamps turned off, Frank and the doctor stepped outside the office. Doc Everett fired up a cigar and Frank rolled a cigarette.
“You sure Julie and Katie will sleep the night through, Doc?”
Doc smiled. “Probably until the sun is up. I gave them both some tincture of opium. They’ll sleep quite well.”
“All right. I think I’ll head on back to my place. I’ll be in first thing in the morning, and then I’m going to do some prowling around.”
“You’re not going to cross the line and head for Hell, are you?”
Frank still was amused at the names of the towns. He chuckled for a few seconds. “I might, Doc. The ranchers come over here to Heaven, don’t they?”
“Never alone, Frank.”
“Well, you can relax. I don’t have any plans to ride to Hell.”
“Besides, if there ever was a time Julie needed you, it’s now. Think about that.”
“You’re right. I’ll stay south of the road.”
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