The Western Justice Trilogy

by Gilbert, Morris

  “You shot down Darrow!” Ned said. He whistled. “Judge Parker will be glad to hear that. He was a bad ’un.”

  “We’ve got to get this woman in the house. Her name is Hannah Bryant,” Riordan said. “She’s a missionary.”

  “Bring her right on in,” Chenoa said. “We’ll make a bed for her in the back room where we can take care of her.”

  Hannah moaned as Ringo and Ned extracted her from the wagon. Ned took her gently as he could, and they walked toward the house. When they were in the room, Chenoa said, “Put her on the bed there.” She turned to Rosa. “What happened? Who did all this bandaging?”

  “Riordan and I did it,” Rosa said. “We need to send for a doctor.”

  “I’ll do that,” Ringo said. “He ain’t far from here. He had a case over at the Wilsons’ ranch. I’ll be back in two hours with him.”

  “All of you get out of here,” Chenoa said.

  But as they were leaving, Hannah opened her eyes and said, “Please don’t leave me!” She put out her hand toward Riordan.

  He hesitated then went to her and sat down. He took her hand and said, “You’re all right, Miss Hannah. You’re safe now.”

  “Don’t leave me, please. I’m so afraid!”

  “You just go back to sleep. I’ll be here.” And with that he sat down, determined to stay with the woman.

  Rosa was watching. She left the room with the others, but later she came back with some cloths. “Her face is going to be swollen, but this cool water might help a little.” She began to wet the small pieces of towel and hand them to her mother. When Chenoa put them on Hannah, the missionary opened her eyes and said, “Who are you?”

  “My name is Chenoa. You’re at my family’s ranch. Don’t worry, Miss Bryant, you’re safe now.”

  “What about those men?”

  Rosa said, “They won’t bother you anymore. You just try to sleep.”

  “Could I have some water, please?” Hannah asked.

  Rosa left and came back with some cool water from the springhouse.

  “Let me help you sit up,” Riordan said. He put his hand behind her back, and she cried out, but she sat up long enough to drink thirstily.

  “That’s so good,” she whispered then lay back. She took some more laudanum, and soon she started drifting off to sleep, but she held on to Riordan’s hand.

  Chenoa said, “I’ll go into the kitchen and fix something she can eat. Call if you need me.” She left the room.

  Rosa saw Hannah still holding Riordan’s hand, and her eyes narrowed. “Looks like you’ve made a friend.”

  “I know. She’s scared.”

  “She’s a missionary,” Rosa said. “That’s kind of a preacher, isn’t it?”

  “Sort of, I suppose. Never thought of a single woman crossing the Territory with just a Mexican driver.”

  “It was foolish.”

  “I guess we’re all foolish.”

  He sat there while the woman held his hand. She slept fitfully, and Rosa said, “What are we going to do with her?”

  “Well, when she gets healed up, we’ll take her to that school she’s going to.”

  Rosa studied him. “You’re a mystery man. Nobody thinks you can shoot, but you put one of the fastest guns in the Territory down quick as a wink. Where’d you learn to shoot like that?”

  He did not answer, and she persisted, “You killed that outlaw so easy. Does it bother you killing a man?”

  “Yes.” His answer was simple but firm.

  “Are you sorry?” Rosa asked.

  “Yes, I’m sorry. I’d always be sorry for killing anybody.”

  Something about the situation troubled Rosa.

  Hannah slept fitfully for a time, moaning periodically, her lips moving as she tried to say something in her half-asleep state.

  Rosa watched her lips and made out the words: “Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me…”

  Riordan looked up and said quietly, “She’s scared. She needs something to hang on to.”

  “It looks like she’s going to hang on to you,” Rosa said sharply.

  Suddenly he looked up, and his eyes caught hers. There was some sort of anger in him, but then it turned to sadness even as she watched. “We all need someone to hold on to. I never had anybody except my mother, but I know what it feels like to need.”

  The doctor came, looked Hannah over, and stood up. He tested her arms and her legs for breaks. “She doesn’t have any bones broken that I can tell, other than those ribs. You did a good job, Miss Rosa. Where’d you learn that?”

  “It wasn’t me. It was Riordan there.”

  “I had some banged up ribs one time. That’s what they did to me.”

  “It’s about all you can do. It’s going to take some time.”

  “She’ll be all right though, won’t she?” Riordan said.

  Dr. Mansfield rubbed his chin. “Physically she will be, but there are other kinds of hurt.”

  His remark intrigued Rosa. “What do you mean ‘other kinds of hurt’?”

  “I’m sure you know. Did you ever get hurt pretty badly, not on the outside but on the inside, in your spirit? Those emotional hurts can be worse than a broken bone. I wouldn’t be surprised if she clings to you. That often happens. You saved her, Riordan. Therefore, she trusts you.”

  “How long will this go on—this hanging on?” Rosa asked.

  “Maybe forever.” The doctor closed his black bag and left without another word.

  Hannah stirred, and her eyes opened. “Is the doctor gone?”

  “Yes, he’s gone, Miss Hannah,” Riordan said.

  “He was nice. You’ll stay with me, won’t you, Riordan?”

  “Sure. I’ll be here. You just sleep if you can.”

  Rosa watched as the woman’s eyes closed and her features relaxed.

  She was still battered and bruised and had scars on her face, but she held on to Riordan with both hands.

  Rosa smiled bitterly. I notice she’s not hanging on to me. I wonder why that is?

  CHAPTER 16

  There was little they could do about the body of the Mexican who had been killed by the outlaws. Hannah had hired him but knew very little about him except that his name was Manuel. The summer was hot, and there was no possibility of keeping the body from deteriorating. They had to try to keep the body of Darrow from decaying too badly, as it had to be taken in to the judge.

  Frank ordered a grave dug, and Manuel was buried quickly. A simple wooden cross with only the name MANUEL carved into it was placed on the grave.

  Riordan looked down at the raw earth piled on top of the grave and studied the name. He turned to Ringo, who was standing beside him, and said, “Manuel didn’t leave much behind, did he, Ringo?”

  “No, but then most of us don’t. A few presidents and generals, I guess, but in the war, I seen mass graves with bodies piled high and covered over with a few inches of dirt.”

  “But they may have left something. A child, a wife. Maybe a business. It seems wrong to go out of this earth leaving nothing behind but your name carved on a piece of wood.”

  Ringo said, “It don’t pay to think too much about things like that. Nothing you can do about it.”

  Riordan turned and studied Ringo. Jukes was a roughly handsome man with a thick neck and a deep tan. He was pretty good with a gun and stuck by his friends. Aside from that, Riordan knew little about him. “I don’t think that’s right. I’m not much of an example myself, but my mother is. I read a book once saying the Bible wasn’t true and that there was nothing to Christianity. It didn’t bother me because I’d seen it in action in my mother almost every day of my life.”

  “Come on. Let’s go get something to drink.”

  Ringo and Riordan walked away from the grave. Riordan felt something was wrong with what had been done with Manuel.

  Rosa brought in fresh water for Hannah. Their guest was doing much better. The swelling on her face had gone down, although she had one large scratch there
that would take time to heal. Her ribs were not as painful, but she was still nervous and seemed upset when Riordan was out of her sight. She had Rosa and Chenoa and Ethel to take care of her, but still she was troubled.

  Riordan was sitting beside her now. They were talking about a book that both of them had read. The name of it was Jane Eyre. Riordan said, “There’s a woman I admire.”

  Hannah stared at him. “She was a strong woman, stronger than most, I suppose.”

  “Well, of course she was only a character in a book, but the woman that wrote the book sure knew how to draw strong women.”

  Rosa’s brow furrowed, and she thought, I don’t know what they’re talking about. They know about books, pictures, and all kinds of things, and I’m just ignorant. She set the pitcher down, picked up the empty one, and asked, “Is there anything else you want, Hannah?”

  “Oh no, Riordan’s taking good care of me.”

  “I’ve got to go talk to Ringo,” Riordan said.

  He started to get up, but Hannah reached out and took him by the hand. “Please stay just a little longer.”

  “Well, just a little bit.”

  Rosa turned and left the room and busied herself with making a batch of fresh corn bread, which her father loved. She kept looking at the door of Hannah’s room, and finally Riordan came out.

  He came over to her and said, “Making corn bread. Nothing better than fresh corn bread.”

  “Anybody can make corn bread.”

  “Not me. My mother could, though. She wouldn’t let the cook make it. Insisted on doing it herself.”

  “You had a cook?”

  Riordan stared at her. “Yes, we did. A good one, too. She’d been with the family, oh I don’t know, fifteen years, I guess.”

  “Your family had money?”

  Riordan had said little enough about his family, but he had no choice but to shrug and say, “My father was a good businessman. He knew how to make money.” He waited for her to speak and then said, “Well, I’ve got to go talk to Ringo. If Hannah gets restless, tell her I’ll be back after I run some errands.”

  “I’ll take care of her. Don’t worry.”

  Riordan gave her a curious glance and then left the room.

  Rosa wondered about Riordan spending so much time with Hannah. He needs to be careful that she doesn’t become too attached to him or he’ll be stuck with her for the rest of his life. Rosa berated herself for the uncharitable thought, as Hannah had been through so much. But she couldn’t help but feel a sense of loss when thinking about Hannah and Riordan being together for always…

  Riordan crossed the yard and found Ringo helping to get a horse shod. Ned had been a blacksmith but had quit because he hated the job. Thus it had fallen to Ringo’s lot. “Ringo, I’ve got a favor to ask of you.”

  “Shoot.”

  “I was hoping you would take Powell and the body of Darrow into the judge.”

  “Why don’t you do it? You’re the marshal. There’ll be rewards out on both of them.”

  “Hannah’s a little bit nervous. Thought I’d stay around until she got over the worst of that. That was a pretty bad time she had.”

  “Well, she is kind of delicate. I always like to go to town. I may have a few drinks and play some cards.”

  “Your sins are your own business.” Riordan grinned. “Just see that the judge has the body of Darrow. And turn Powell over to him. If there’s a reward, just bring it back.”

  After Ringo left, Riordan looked uncertainly around, not knowing exactly what to do. Finally he went back to the house and found Rosa still putting the pan of corn bread into the oven.

  “You’re back.”

  “Yeah, I thought I’d just go sit with Hannah a little bit more.” He noted she gave him an odd look and said, “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing. Go sit.”

  Riordan went in, and Hannah smiled at once. “Good. I get tired of reading, and I can’t move around much.”

  “Well, you’ll be better, but it’ll take awhile. It seems like it takes ribs a long time to put themselves back together.”

  She made a pretty sight despite her bruised face, for she had an odd shade of red hair. It was strawberry blond, and her eyes were green, beautifully shaped, and wide spaced. Her lips were still swollen, but her features all were pleasing. She was wearing a nightgown and a bed jacket, and her head was propped up.

  “Everybody’s wondering what you were doing out in the middle of the wilderness by yourself. I know you said you were going to teach at a school, but you shouldn’t have made that trip alone.”

  Hannah paused for a moment, and a pained look came into her face. “I haven’t told you or anybody, but I was engaged to be married.” She faltered, and tears came to her eyes. She took a handkerchief and wiped them.

  “What happened?”

  “He died of cholera two weeks before we were supposed to be married.”

  “That was rough, I’m sure. It’s hard to take a loss like that. I know you cared for him a great deal.”

  “It—it wasn’t a romantic affair. We were very good friends all through school, and we knew missionaries needed to go out in couples, so we decided to get married. Not a story like you’d read in a romance.”

  “Still, I know it hurts.”

  “Well, I decided to go alone.” She paused for a moment. “Could I ask you something personal, Riordan?”

  Riordan wondered what she wanted, but he still replied, “Fire away.”

  “Are you a man of God?”

  Riordan shifted his shoulders uncomfortably and ran his hand through his hair. “That’s a hard question. There was a revival in our town when I was twelve. The evangelist preached a great sermon, and I was really struck by it. I went forward and did what the preacher said, which was to call on the Lord. I did that, and I was baptized, but somehow along the way I feel as if I have strayed from it.”

  “You know there’s a story in the Old Testament that sheds light on this. Some men had been chopping with an ax, and the head of the ax flew off and landed in a river or a pond. They went to the prophet and told him what had happened. The prophet asked where they’d lost it, and they took him back to that place. He prayed, and the axhead floated to the surface. The men picked it up. I’ve always thought that story meant if you lost some standing with God, if somehow you couldn’t feel Him, somehow you went wrong, then the thing to do is to go back and see where you lost it, or in other words, admit what you’ve done wrong and make it right with God.”

  “I’ve read that story, but I never thought about it like that. Actually, I’m not sure I know how to go back. Maybe you can help me.”

  “We’ll look for it. You can tell me the story of your life.”

  “Well, if you can’t sleep, I will. My story is pretty dull. It would put anybody to sleep.” He smiled, reached forward, and said, “You’ve got the prettiest hair of any woman I’ve ever seen. Never saw a shade of red like that.”

  “I’ve always hated my hair.” Hannah smiled. “They always called me ‘Red,’ and I hated that.”

  “Well, don’t. It’s as pretty as any woman’s hair I’ve ever seen.”

  Hannah reached up and put her hand on his and said, “What a nice compliment.”

  The sun was falling when Ringo rode into Fort Smith. He had spent some time there on two occasions and rode right to the courthouse. He looked out and saw that a crowd was gathered around the gallows. As he dismounted, he said, “Is there a hanging today?”

  A cowboy with bowed legs and a huge chew of tobacco mumbled, “Yep, going to hang three at the same time. The judge is doing it up right.”

  Ringo glanced at the gallows and saw that the ropes were already attached, and George Maledon was testing them by pulling at them. He thought about Maledon, who was the official executioner. “I wouldn’t want a job like that,” he muttered. He went up immediately to the judge’s office and knocked on the door.

  When the judge said, “Come in,” he entere
d.

  “Judge, my name’s Ringo Jukes. I work for the Ramirez family.”

  “Oh, that’s where our marshal is, Marshal Riordan.”

  “Yes, sir, he is, and I brought two wanted men in for you.”

  “Well, we can lock them up and bring them to trial.”

  “Too late for one of them, Judge. It was Alvin Darrow.”

  Judge Parker opened his eyes widely. “You mean he’s dead?”

  “Yes, sir, he is.”

  “He killed two of my marshals. I wanted the pleasure of watching him hang. How’d it happen?”

  “Well, it’s an odd thing. All of us were a little bit puzzled about the marshal you sent out, Marshal Riordan. He just didn’t seem tough enough, but he faced Darrow, and the way Miss Ramirez tells it, Darrow started for his gun, and before it even cleared leather, Riordan pulled his gun and put a shot right between his eyes.”

  “I wouldn’t have thought that was possible! Darrow was a fast gun. Everybody knew that.”

  “Wasn’t fast enough, Judge. Anyway, I brought his body in.”

  “Well, there’s a reward for it. I’ll give you a note, and you can draw it from the bank.”

  “I brought in Boog Powell, too. He and Darrow were attacking a young woman, but Darrow made a fight of it. Powell is guilty of murder, and the young woman will testify that he killed her rider. Better string him up, I say.”

  Ringo watched as the judge scribbled something on a sheet. He took it and put it in his pocket. “Riordan’s wondering when you’re going to be sending a bunch out to run that group of killers down.”

  “We don’t have enough to send right now.” Parker leaned back for a while and studied Ringo. “I didn’t think I was sending a man-killer to you. As a matter of fact, I doubt if Riordan’s ever shot anybody—Wait, he did shoot Dent Smith. He’s got the makings in him of a man-killer. I’ll see that Powell’s locked up and tried for murder.”