“Good. You want a drink, Frank?”
“Not now. It’s a long ride back home. I best get going.”
“I think I’ll have me a toddy and then look in on Phil before I go to bed.”
“Good night, Doc.”
“Good night, Frank.”
Frank was halfway across the street when Doc called after him. He turned around.
“You’re an asset to this community, Frank. And you’ve found a good woman and a home. I hope you stay forever.”
Frank smiled and waved. The ride back home seemed easier after that.
FIFTEEN
Horse was well rested and ready to travel when Frank saddled him early the next morning. Frank made sure there was plenty of fresh water and food for Dog, and was in the saddle and heading for town long before dawn lightened the eastern sky. He was sitting on the boardwalk in front of the Blue Moon Cafe when the cook and waitress showed up for work and unlocked the front door. Frank was eating breakfast and working on his third cup of coffee when Doc Everett walked in.
“When you said early, you meant early, didn’t you, Frank?” the doctor said, sitting down at the table with Frank.
“How is Phil?” Frank asked.
“Sore as hell. But he’s talking and feeling a lot better. And before you ask about Julie, she’s still asleep.”
“Katie?”
The doctor sugared his coffee and grimaced, shaking his head.
“What does that mean, Doc?”
Doc Everett took a sip of coffee and added more sugar. “It means that I think she’s about three months gone.”
Frank set his coffee mug down and stared at the doctor. “If that’s a joke, it isn’t funny.”
“It isn’t a joke and it sure as hell isn’t funny.”
“Good God A’mighty!” Frank blurted out. “Katie told you?”
Everett smiled. “Let’s just say I’ve seen a lot of pregnant women in my time, Frank.”
“First Shelley is killed; then Phil is almost beaten to death, now this. All within forty-eight hours. I don’t know how much more Julie can take.”
“For a fact, she’s had a lot to contend with.”
“Are you going to talk to Katie, confirm this?”
“I thought I would. Perhaps you can take Julie out for a walk when she wakes up.”
“I can do that. Sure.”
“What do you know about this Donnie Bullard?”
“Some folks like him. Personally, I think he’s a snotty little spoiled piece of cow crap.”
“That’s good enough for me.”
“Don’t let it be. I don’t like his father, and I’m not above prejudice.”
“Well, Julie doesn’t like him either.”
“That’s understandable.”
“Damn!” Frank whispered.
“You can’t undo the pregnancy, Frank. All we can do is hope for the best for the girl.”
“You think the boy will marry her?”
“Personally, no.”
“Then the child will be a woods colt. That’s a terrible thing to have hanging over someone’s head.”
The doctor shrugged his shoulders and took a sip of coffee. Frank spoke no more about Katie’s situation while the men finished their breakfast.
“Don’t worry about Julie today, Frank,” the doctor said. “I’m going to keep her in town at least for one more day until I can send Phil home.”
“All right. I’ll head on back and milk the cow for her and check on the other livestock and feed the chickens. Then I’ll do some prowling. Tell her I’ll be back for her and the kids tomorrow afternoon at the latest.”
“I’ll do it.”
Frank bought a sackful of biscuits from the waitress for his lunch and headed out. He saw to the morning chores at Julie’s and then checked on his place, played with Dog for a few minutes, and then headed for the road, the dividing line between the two warring factions.
He prowled up and down the line until midafternoon, and did not see any hands from any of the ranches. “Laying low,” Frank muttered just as he reined up and twisted in the saddle. The bullet that would have hit him squarely in the back missed him by about one inch and slammed into a tree.
Frank rolled out of the saddle, grabbed his rifle from the boot, and slapped Horse on the rump, sending the big horse trotting away. Frank knew he would not go far. Frank bellied down behind a tree, facing the direction the shot came from, and waited.
There was a wooded knoll about 150 yards away, the only good cover in the immediate area, and Frank felt sure that was where the sniper was located.
He chambered a round into his .44-40, wriggled around to the other side of the old tree, and chanced a quick look. He could see nothing that might give away the shooter’s position. He could do nothing except wait.
Whoever the shooter was, and Frank felt confident it was the back-shooter Orin Mathison, he wasn’t about to give away his position by throwing any chance shots in Frank’s direction.
Just then a rifle barked and a spray of dirt stung Frank’s face. He backed away, thinking: Orin’s got him one of those telescopes on his rifle. Has to be.
He worked his way down the slight incline, and began worming his way toward a small stand of scrub timber off to his right. He reached the timber and inched under the low branches, hoping he would not run into a big rattler seeking refuge from the sun.
There was no waiting snake, and Frank worked his way through the weeds until he had a good view of the timber where the shooter was hiding. He watched intently for a moment, and then the sniper moved, causing a flash of unnatural color to present itself.
Frank took aim and squeezed the trigger. The bullet must have come awfully close, for the shooter jumped quickly to one side. Frank put another round where he guessed the shooter would be, and that did it for the hidden gunman. No more shots came from the timber. Orin wanted no more part of this.
Frank waited for several moments, and then reset his back sights and worked his way out of the scrub timber. He located his horse, and cautiously made his way over and swung into the saddle, staying low until he had put some distance between the hill and himself. Then he made a long slow circle, coming up behind the hill and the timber. He found fresh tracks, and they were the same as the tracks he’d found several times before. There was no doubt in his mind the shooter was Orin Mathison.
Frank followed the tracks to the road and reined up. There would be another day for them to meet, he was certain of that. “Count on it, Mathison,” he said aloud. “You and me got a score to settle.”
He rode back to his place and stabled Horse, and he and Dog went into the house. Frank still had some biscuits left, and he fed those to Dog along with some jerky. Then he set about making supper for himself.
He was in bed sound asleep just after dark.
* * *
Frank awakened and lit the bedside lamp, glancing at his pocket watch. Three o’clock. He had gone to bed so early, he was well refreshed, and decided not to try to force himself back to sleep. He dressed, stoked up the stove, made a pot of coffee, and fried a half dozen slices of thick-cut bacon. He fixed a skillet of pan bread, and he and Dog had a pleasant early morning repast.
Frank decided to saddle up and do some early morning prowling; just checking on things in the south part of the connecting valleys.
He hadn’t gone but a couple of miles before he began to smell dust in the air. A lot of dust, blowing in from the north. That meant a large number of either wagons or horsemen. At this time of the morning, it also meant trouble, for Frank didn’t think it was wagons. He headed for the main road and town. He figured he was no more than five minutes ahead of the riders; maybe not that long.
Frank put Horse into a fast trot and hit the edge of the main street, yelling as loud as he could.
“What’s going on down there?” a local hollered.
“A large group of horsemen on the way here!” Frank yelled. “I think it’s trouble. Get up and get armed.
I’ll spread the word.”
“I’ll ring the fire alarm bell!” the local told him. “You keep yelling.”
Frank rode through the town, hollering and shouting out warnings, urging the people to arm themselves.
On the ride back up the main street, Frank could see the night riders approaching, all of them carrying torches.
“They’re going to try to burn the town!” Frank yelled. He jumped from the saddle, grabbed his rifle, and slapped Horse on the rump, sending him galloping into an alley—out of harm’s way, Frank hoped.
The flickering, bobbing lights from the handheld torches drew closer as the first of several dozen night riders reached the north edge of town.
“They’re crazy!” Lawyer Foster said, running up to Frank. He had on his britches with the galluses hanging down. Frank noticed that the man wore mismatched shoes and no socks. He was carrying a shotgun.
“Can you use that thing?” Frank asked.
“You bet I can,” Lawyer Foster replied just as one of the hooded night riders fired the first shot, the bullet breaking a front window of a shop.
Foster lifted his shotgun and gave the rider a blast of bird shot.
The distance was too great and the load too light to be a killing shot, but it drew a yelp of pain from the rider.
Frank stepped out to the edge of the boardwalk just as those riders with torches began throwing them at the stores along the main street. Frank snapped off a shot that knocked a rider from the saddle and sent him bouncing in the dirt.
“Open fire!” Frank yelled to the citizens who had gathered along the street’s boardwalks. “Or lose your town!”
“Fire, damnit!” Doc Everett yelled. Then he blasted away with a double-barrel shotgun.
The locals cut loose with rifles, pistols, and shotguns, the barrage emptying half a dozen saddles.
“We lost our surprise!” a gunhand yelled, his words slightly muffled behind the hood. “Let’s get the hell outta here:”
Frank was lining him up in gunsights as the last word left his mouth. Just as the hired gun wheeled his horse, Frank squeezed the trigger. The bullet hit the hooded man in the center of his back, and the man fell bonelessly from the saddle, his spinal cord severed.
The locals had reloaded their shotguns, and once again cut loose with loads ranging from bird shot to rusty nails. Several more saddles were emptied and several more hired guns got peppered with bird shot.
What was left of the bunch galloped out of town.
“You saved the town, Frank,” Doc Everett said, walking up, holding a shotgun. “We’re all in your debt.”
Frank was punching out empty brass and reloading his Peacemaker. “I got lucky and smelled dust in the air, Doc. I just about didn’t make it here in time.”
“Help me!” a wounded night rider called from the street. “I’m hit hard.”
Other downed riders joined in, calling for help.
“Well, I took an oath,” Doc Everett said. “I’ll go see what I can do”
“I’ll join you,” Frank told him. “And keep a gun on the others.”
“Good idea. Come on.”
Two of the night riders were dead, one was not long for this world, and the wounds of the others ranged from light to moderate.
“I’ll send a telegram to the sheriff,” Banker Simmons said. “And another to the governor, detailing what took place here this night. Then we’ll see what happens.”
“Save all the hoods for evidence,” Frank said. “We’ll need them for the trial.”
Someone in the crowd laughed. “You don’t really believe there’ll be a trial, do you, Mr. Morgan?”
“They’ll have to be if the governor gets the telegram.”
“He won’t,” Doc Everett said, looking up from one of the wounded night riders. “One of his aides will intercept it and the governor will never see it.”
“There’s a good place for farmers and the like about fifty miles from here,” one of the night riders who was only slightly wounded said. “Was I you folks I’d move over there.”
“We’re not moving anywhere,” a local told him. “This is our home and here we intend to stay.”
“Not for long,” the night rider replied.
“How is Julie, Doc?” Frank asked, kneeling down beside the doctor.
“She’s all right, Frank. And Phil is a lot better.” Doc Everett stood up. “Some of you men start carrying these”—he paused—“white trash over to that vacant building where the millinery shop used to be. We’ll use that for a hospital. And decide among you who’ll take turns standing guard.”
Frank walked over to the empty shop with the men and their prisoners, and then went over to the hotel to see about Julie and Katie.
Julie embraced him, holding on for a moment before pushing him away. “Phil’s much better, Frank. Dr. Everett says he expects him to make a full recovery. Physically, that is.”
“I’m glad to hear that. How is Katie?”
Julie’s eyes searched his face for a few seconds. “The doctor told you, didn’t he?”
“About Katie, yes, he did.”
“What am I going to do?”
“We, Julie. What are we going to do?”
“You mean that, Frank?”
“Yes, I do. Well . . . we’ll work it out, I reckon.”
“It’s going to take a lot of working out. What do you have in mind?”
“If the Bullard boy won’t marry her, and that might turn out to be a bad thing for both of them, well, sending her away. I can afford it, Julie. I may not look like it or act like it, but I am not a poor man.”
“I sensed that, Frank. I don’t want her marrying that little brat. But sending her away . . . where?”
“I don’t know. I’ll ask Doc Everett. Maybe he’ll know of someplace that takes in, ah, expecting young girls.”
“It’s shameful, Frank. I can’t hardly bear to look other women in the eye.”
“Don’t feel that way, Julie. You didn’t do nothing wrong. Besides, these things happen more often than gets talked about, you can bet on that.”
“I suppose so. Frank? I just had a terrible thought. What if Betty Lou is, well, in a family way too?”
“Let’s deal with one situation at a time. Good God. Let’s don’t even think about that other girl.”
“Frank Morgan?” a man’s voice called from the hall.
“Yes?” Frank’s hand dropped to the butt of his Peacemaker.
“I’m friendly, Mr. Morgan. It’s Jeff, from over at the livery. They’s a boy outside, wants to talk to you and Miss Julie.”
“A boy? What boy, Jeff?”
“Donnie Bullard.”
SIXTEEN
Julie insisted upon walking down with Frank and confronting Donnie.
“I don’t think that’s wise right now, Julie,” he told her.
Her reply was to head for the door and step out into the hall. She looked back at Frank. “Are you coming?” Then she turned and walked on down the hall.
Frank plopped his hat on his head and went after her.
Donnie Bullard was standing on the boardwalk, his hat on his head.
Just a scared kid, Frank thought. Fifteen years old and in a peck of trouble, and knows it.
“Miss Julie,” Donnie said. “I disobeyed my dad and run off from home to tell you I aim to do the right thing.”
“What happened to your face, Donnie?” Julie asked.
“My dad, he hit me a couple of times when I told him what I was fixin’ to do. Then he forbade me from comin’ to see about Katie.”
“What do you think is the right thing to do, Donnie?”
Frank had stepped back into the shadows. This was between Julie and the boy.
“Well, me and Katie had talked abut it, ma’am. I aim to marry her.”
Doc Everett had walked to within hearing distance and stopped.
“I see.” Julie spoke softly. She looked at the boy in the faint glow of light from the lamps in the ho
tel lobby. “Your right hand is swollen and the knuckles raw, Donnie. What happened to your hand?”
Donnie shuffled his feet. “Well, Miss Julie, I hauled off and hit my dad after he punched me a couple of times and called Katie a dirty little whore. I mean, I knocked the stuffin’ out of him. Knocked him flat on his behind, I did. Then I took off. I lit me a shuck outta there. That’s how come my hand is kinda swole.”
Julie had to cover her mouth with a hand to hide her quick smile at Donnie’s explanation. Frank cut his eyes to Doc Everett, and saw that the man had a wide grin on his face.
“Well, Donnie, how do you plan on supporting Katie?”
“I reckon I’ll get me a job, Miss Julie. I don’t rightly know where, but I’ll work. I’m not a bit lazy.” He looked at Frank. “Mr. Morgan, ain’t it?”
“That’s right, Donnie.”
“Could I work at your ranch, sir? I’m a right good hand.”
“I’m sure you are, Donnie. And you’ve taken a big step toward becoming a growed-up man by coming here this morning. Your father should have been proud of you.”
“My dad stood at the door of the ranch house and disowned me,” Donnie said. “He screamed it out, real loud. Everybody heard it, ’ceptin’ the hired guns, who was already on the move to attack this town. He said if I ever set foot on. 45 range again, he’d horsewhip me and leave me for the buzzards to eat my eyes.”
“How about your mother?” Julie asked.
“She’s scared of my dad,” Donnie said. “She won’t say nothin’ against him.”
Frank glanced at the eastern sky. Silver was just beginning to push away the blackness of night.
“I’m worried about Betty Lou Gilmar,” Donnie said. “Scared about what her pa might do to her.”
“That’s a legitimate concern,” Doc Everett said, finally stepping forward. “Ken Gilmar has a really bad temper.”
“I know Betty Lou’s been goin’ to see Doc Woods of late,” Donnie said. “Something’s sure ailin’ her.”
“Oh, my Lord,” Doc Everett muttered under his breath.
Julie looked heavenward and shook her head. “I wonder why,” she said, her words laced with sarcasm. “Come on, Donnie,” Julie said, holding out a hand. “Let’s go see Katie. I’m sure seeing you will make her feel better.”
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