No Good Like It Is

  ***

  On deck, Dobey and Bear passed the whiskey bottle, which Big William had emptied and filled with cold coffee. By midnight they were stumbling, slurring their conversation in stage whispers. Dobey stood, having seen movement in the shadows, and mumbled, “Can’t sleep with these damn pistols on.” He fumbled to take off both belts, then dropped them clumsily under the wagon.

  Bear giggled loudly, said, “Me too, Cap’n,” and followed suit. Both men sat on coiled ropes, backs to the wall, hats over their eyes, and feigned light snoring. Their arms were folded over their chests; each man had one hand on a revolver, under his jacket.

  ***

  After ten minutes of irregular snoring, the first mate, Satterwhite, padded barefoot to Captain Walls and, holding his knife behind his back, bent down to lift the hat brim.

  He was shocked to find the captain’s eyes open and alert. He registered the distinctive three clicks of a Colt being cocked, before he realized that it was pressed up under his chin. There was a double click. The big Negro stuck something cold in his ear and reached to take the knife. He wet himself. “No, please,” he sobbed, dropping to his knees.

  “Who’s with you?” Dobey whispered fiercely. “Is Figg in on this?”

  The man shook his head, trying to control his sobbing.

  Bear took a quick pass around the deck nearby, then whispered loudly, “He ain’t gonna talk, Cap’n. Lemme cut his throat so’s he can’t yell, gut him, and throw him off the boat.”

  “Clinton’s gonna try your room,” Satterwhite found his voice. “I can call him and stop him. I’ll do it if’n y’all won’t kill me. Din’t mean y’all no harm, I swear. I swear. Jus’ looking for easy pickings. Please.”

  ***

  Jimmy never heard the footfalls because of the boat’s engine and paddles. He did hear the click of the tumblers in the lock. Clinton pushed the door open with his left hand, and started to step in holding his knife in his right. Jimmy smashed him in the forehead with the wooden pin, and he dropped like an empty sack.

  Jimmy cocked the Colt in his left hand as Clinton fell, dropped the pin and drew his short Colt right handed, cocked it, and said loudly, “Y’all come on in.” There was dead silence—no running, no whispers. Jimmy waited.

  In a normal voice, he said to Marie-Louise and Honey, “Y’all point your pistols at the door. Any movement, anybody comes in, just shoot ‘em. Don’t tell ‘em to stop or nothin’.”

  He decocked his Colts, holstered them, and dragged the unconscious Clinton inside, then closed and re-locked the door. Taking off the rope that the mate used for a belt, he tied the man’s hands behind his back, then cut a sash from the window and tied his feet.

  Ten minutes later, he heard loud footsteps, and braced again.

  “Boss man?” Big William spoke from outside. “Y’all is awright in there? Your cap’n, he done captured Mistuh Satterwhite trying to rob him, sent me to see is y’all awright.”

  Jimmy cocked both pistols, opened the door and stepped out quickly, swinging to look both ways. Big William stepped back, both hands up, saying, “It’s awright, Boss. Don’t shoot.”

  Jimmy stared at him. “Yeah. It’s awright. I need to thank you agin. Now go down there and tell the cap’n we got this ‘un. You think anybody else is coming at us?”

  When Big William shook his head, Jimmy went on. “Tell him that, too. Say to leave Bear there, and y’all bring the other’n back here with rope. Knock him on the head so’s he don’t yell.”

  Big William smiled, nodded and disappeared.

  ***

  Fifteen minutes later with both mates bound and gagged, they began moaning. “Can I hit ‘em agin, Boss?” Big William smiled.

  Dobey nodded, then turned to the others.

  “We’re gonna lock ‘em in here, for now. We’ll take turns sleeping in the other cabin. They act up, I’ll take Bear’s advice and throw ‘em off the boat. Matter of fact, Big William, you go tell that Captain Figg that they tried to rob us, and that we told you that we already threw them off. That way he won’t be looking for ‘em.”

  “What if they wake up and untie themselves?”

  “Go ahead and smash their hands. I think they meant to cut us, and I want ‘em to remember us, anyhow. See how good they handle knots and knives with broken fingers.”

  ***

  They were not totally surprised the next morning when, off the mouth of the Arkansas River, they ran gently aground. A deeply embarrassed Captain Figg explained that they were stuck fast; they’d all be much better off if his mates hadn’t been thrown overboard; might be days to get her off; he thought the paddle was damaged. To make up for his blunder, he would ferry the passengers ashore, and would buy their cargo and livestock at what he thought was a very fair price, remembering of course that he was near destitution. They could then purchase more horses ashore, or charter another boat to proceed up the Arkansas or on to New Orleans.

  “Destitution,” Jimmy repeated. “Is that the name of that town on the bank there? That why I should believe you’re near it?” He invited the captain into the wheelhouse for negotiations.

  Ten minutes later, Captain Figg had steam up, gently backed the Memphis Belle off the bar, and took her expertly to dock. He explained that his black eye came from a collision with the wheel during the grounding. His black steward told Big William that the collision was with the butt end of Jimmy’s big knife. Big William looked pleased.

  Other than Captain Figg and his quartermaster, no one on the boat seemed surprised when Bear, Marie-Louise and Honey disembarked with the Rangers. The women had decided that male disguises were not so important west of the Mississippi. Driving the wagon was Big William.

  ***

  “This corps has got to get on the move, Colonel. I want us out of Corinth and heading for that Mississippi landing tomorrow morning. And, no, I don’t know if we’re heading upriver to go home, or south to fight in the west.”

  The corps headquarters was near chaos, with tents coming down, wagons being packed, and both orders and curses flying freely.

  The general lit a cigar and said, “Let’s wrap this up. You don’t know if that payroll was taken by this Captain Kennedy and his two men, or if they were murdered, mutilated and robbed, and if so, was it by some rebels seen nearby, or by some missing civilians. This is beyond us. Bring in the Pinkertons. This is their bailiwick. Go ahead and pay the Fifteenth Massachusetts, but let their commander sweat whether we’re going to charge it off to him or not.”

  Chapter Thirty-four

  The town, if it could be called that, was overly modest. On a point, north of the Arkansas and west of the Mississippi, its one road went up a bank away from the dock, through some Spanish Moss-draped trees, then turned north to parallel the Big Muddy. Backed against the big river were Kate’s Brothel, a dentist/barber shop, a two-story hotel, and the livery stable, with a corral behind.

  The convoy moved slowly up the street, Dobey leading, Bear trailing, with the wagon, Big William, the women, and livestock in between. On their left they saw Mason’s saloon, Sally-Sue’s Brothel, Mason’s Emporium, and the marshal’s office and jail.

  ***

  Jimmy Melton, his Colt shotgun loose across his left elbow, still stood at the dock, watching the Memphis Belle back away. As he started to mount, Bear called back in a low voice, “Trouble ahead, Boss.”

  Jimmy tied his horse to a bush and jogged upstream to the corral, then cut through it to the far side of the livery.

  ***

  Up front, as Dobey and the wagon approached the livery, a huge bearded man came out of the marshal’s office and shouted, “You there, soldier. Hold up.”

  Dobey stopped and said politely, “You mean me?” The wagon rolled slowly past him.

  Two more men came out of the jail, and stood on the porch. One let his right hand rest on the butt of an old Paterson revolver in his belt, as the other leaned on a shotgun, chewing a straw. The big man stepped off the porch, passed Dobey and mo
ved in front of the wagon, grabbing a mule’s harness.

  “I’m talking to all of you. I’m Marshal Fetterman. We need to search your wagon, and collect taxes on you.”

  “Taxes,” Dobey repeated. “Sort of like a toll, just for passing through?”

  “You got that right, little feller.” The marshal was well over six feet tall, and close to three hundred pounds. He grinned, “Dollar a head for whites, quarter for niggers, mebbe two dollars for the wagon, depending on what’s in it. ‘Course if you ain’t got coin, we could barter.” He leered at the women. “Ain’t that right, deputies?”

  The one with the pistol laughed and spat. “I ‘spect we’ll have to take them women as prisoners, least ways for a while.”

  Grinning at the women, the deputies didn’t notice Jimmy move onto the street behind the marshal.

  Dobey did notice. He turned back toward Bear, stood in the saddle and yelled, “Sergeant Melton. The marshal here is compelled to search us and collect a tax. We’re going to barter.”

  The deputies stared at Dobey and Bear, dumbfounded, and the marshal stood on his tiptoes, trying to see past the wagon. “Who in hell is Sergeant Melton?”

  Behind him, Jimmy cocked the shotgun and said, “That’s me.”

  As Dobey swung out of the saddle the marshal, still holding the harness in his left hand, turned to face the ominous voice behind him. The deputies appeared stunned to see that the Reb who’d just dismounted had spun, produced a short Colt from under his jacket, and was pointing it at them. The quicker one tried to drag the Paterson from his belt.

  ***

  Bear, on horseback behind the wagon, clearly saw everything develop, as if it had been deliberately slowed for him. Better yet, he understood. The captain’s shout to him, calling him Sergeant Melton, was really a message to the sergeant; it also confused the lawmen for a moment. And in that moment, the captain’s dismount had put his back to the lawmen, allowing him to draw his hidden pistol, wink at Bear, and go into action.

  The moment he saw the captain’s pistol coming out from under his jacket, Bear drew one of his Remingtons and yelled to Big William and the women, “Get your guns out! Be ready, Mama, watch behind you. Honey, look that way.” He pointed back toward Kate’s Brothel, while he scanned to their rear, then turned back to the fight. It was over, before he could join in. He was pleased to see Big William standing in the wagon, a cocked shotgun pointed at Sally-Sue’s.

  Dobey had thumbed off two shots at the deputies, then ducked under his horse’s neck to point the Colt at the marshal’s stomach. The deputies staggered back a step, both hit.

  The marshal glanced from Dobey’s Colt to his injured deputies, then jumped as Jimmy fired the shotgun twice at them. Both deputies bounced off the jail’s wall and went down; one off the porch into the street, the other onto his knees, vomiting blood. Almost in unison, Big William and the marshal said, “Sweet Jesus!”

  Dobey said, “Look at me, marshal. Answer me quick. You got any more men?”

  Fetterman shook his head, speechless, still holding the mule and staring at his dying deputies.

  “Let go of that damn mule and answer me, Goddammit,” Dobey shouted. “Any more men?”

  Fetterman raised both hands now and sputtered, “Nossir. A nigger cleans up for me, but he ain’t got a gun. Nossir. Damn—my deputies ain’t fared too well.” He gulped, and licked his lips.

  Jimmy called from the porch, “These two are about done. Finish ‘em, Cap’n?”

  Dobey nodded, and Jimmy drew a long Colt left-handed and shot each man in the head. The marshal jumped at each report.

  Dobey had Fetterman put his hands on his head, took the marshal’s big Dragoon, and said, “Let’s look at your jail.”

  ***

  As they moved past the wagon to the jail, Dobey was happy to see that Big William, the women, and Bear all had weapons out, and were watching the few citizens brave enough to venture out.

  Dobey asked, “Anybody hurt?”

  Big William responded, “None of them got off a shot, Cap’n.”

  “Yeah. Kind of hard to win a fight that way. Y’all see any more trouble brewing?”

  Bear came back this time. “Nossir. These other people, I think they happy to leave us alone.”

  Inside the jail, an older Negro stood in a corner, wide-eyed, holding a broom. There was a back room and two cells, both occupied. The first held an old man and two teen-aged boys, all badly battered, sullen, still wondering what had happened outside.

  The second cell held a middle-aged woman and a young girl, shabby and fearful. Dobey faced the Negro. “You tell me what’s happening here.”

  The old man shook his head, terrified. It seemed to him that, no matter what he said, he would be in deep trouble with someone.

  Understanding this, Dobey said, “You don’t work for this pig any more. He ain’t the Marshal now, and he won’t harm you. What happened to these people?”

  The old man lowered his head, knowing the fat Fetterman would kill him, or worse, once these men left. “They come to here yesterday on the ferry. Couldn’t pay the tax. Marshal was gone, and his men, they beat ‘em. Took the mother in back and used her. Took they wagon, too.”

  Jimmy had walked in, and heard the last. “Unlock them doors.”

  “Yassah. I ain’t harmed ‘em none, I swear.”

  “Keep your damn mouth shut, Rastus. This ain’t over,” the marshal rasped.

  Jimmy took the Marshal’s Dragoon Colt from Dobey and swung, hitting the Marshal in the teeth. “It will be soon,” he said, as the Marshal sat down.

  The family crept out of the cells, not sure that their nightmare was over, still afraid. Jimmy said, “We’ll get you your wagon and whatever else you had. Where you heading?”

  The father nodded. “Santa Fe.”

  Jimmy turned back to Fetterman. “Get in that cell. Lock him in, old man. Give me all the keys. Your name really Rastus?”

  “Nossuh. I’se Old Ben. Yassuh, here’s the keys.”

  Melton handed the marshal’s pistol to Big William, then said to Old Ben, “You’re the marshal now. You get these folks back whatever was took from ‘em. Tell me if anybody wants to argue about that. And tell whoever you want that I said I want them deputies buried or gone by morning. I don’t care if they’re fed to the hogs or thrown in the river. You got a doctor here?”

  “Yassuh. A tooth doctor, but he drunk all the time.”

  ***

  The rescued family was named Watson. After bathing, they wanted to stay close to the Texans, so camp was established a half mile up the Arkansas; a guard roster was set up, guns were cleaned and reloaded, and horses fed. Bear and Big William brought food from the town. “Din’t charge us nuthin, Cap’n. Seemed happy to feed us fo’ free.” Big William wore a wide grin.

  Over brandy, Dobey turned to Melton. “Whatever happened with your sister?”

  Jimmy nodded, and was quiet, deep in thought for a while. Finally he spoke. “I tole you she was beat and raped. I was on patrol. When I came in, my daddy said he’d found out who done it and wanted me to help. He was a scout and horse breaker for my regiment. Ol’ Second Dragoons.”

  Jimmy lit a cigar, and sipped. Dobey waited.

  “Was two Corporals from my own company, took her into the livery in town. Snatched her, down by the river, late. Liveryman watched, din’t take part, but watched and liked it. She tole Daddy, once she could talk. We caught ‘em one night coming out the Cantina, drunk again. Took ‘em to the same barn, beat hell out of them and the liveryman, tied ‘em up. Then Daddy left and brought back my sister. Handed her his ol’ Colt, and just said, ‘Shoot ‘em, now, Little Bit. It’ll set you free.’ I won’t forget that. Set you free, he said.” He sipped some more.

  Dobey finally said, “And?”

  Jimmy snapped out of his reverie, and nodded, saying, “She did. Shot each one of ‘em. Didn’t kill ‘em, though. The fire did that. I hate a rapist.”

  Dobey took a deep breath. “
I figured it was something like that. What happened after?”

  “Daddy took the family and headed south. I deserted, re-enlisted in that regiment where you found me. Heard later that we probably could have stayed. It was thought to be an accident, that fire. Couldn’t tell they was tied and shot.”

  “Just like we did with Marie-Louise’s store. I be damned.”

  “Nosir. It won’t nothing like that. Weren’t trying to hide it. Weren’t even quiet. We was just trying to rub it all out, wipe it clean. The place, the people. For Little Bit.”

  “Your sister? How’d she come out?”

  “It didn’t set her free. She’s a drunk, in Fort Worth. She ain’t a well person, if’n she’s still alive.”

  As they finished their brandy, Marie-Louise and Honey came and sat by the fire. Dobey had noticed them in heated, if muted, discussion with Bear and Big William, behind the wagon. Bear and Big William talked for a minute more, then Big William joined the group at the fire.

  “Bear says the Watson men is on guard now, and he gone to check ‘em. He give ‘em two of y’all’s shotguns, and one of they own, which we got back from the jail. Say they know how to use ‘em.”

  “The women?”

  “They’s sleepin’ in they wagon, right over there.”

  “They all right now, you think?”

  Big William shrugged, and Marie-Louise answered testily, “No, they not all right now. They scared. The mama, she feels ruint. But they alive, thanks to you and Jimmy. You have done good work today. Again.”

  She paused, then focused on what would come next. “Bear have searched the dead men and the jail. There was money and jewelry and extra guns. We have give the Watson family their things, and ten dollars. There is now seventy-six dollar for to split.” She took a deep breath. “Honey and me, we will keep the jewelry. And there is whiskey, maybe five bottles.”