The Western Justice Trilogy

by Gilbert, Morris

  Parker was right behind him, and he stopped behind him. “Looks like a herd coming in. By the way, how’s that new man going to work out?”

  “I think he’s gonna be a good one. He arrested Big Henry and put him in jail.”

  “Did Henry go easy? He’s a pretty rough cob.”

  “Ty had to slap him on the head with the barrel of his six-gun.”

  “Good.” He looked down the street and said, “They can’t bring those cattle through the middle of town. Go head ’em off, Heck. Tell ’em to go around town. Wait outside.”

  Heck nodded quickly and mounted his sorrel and rode toward where the herd was approaching town.

  Aaron Jordan saw a man approaching. “Howdy. What can we do for you?”

  “Hello. I’m Chief Marshal Heck Thomas.”

  “I’m Aaron Jordan. These are my two sons, Ash and Benny. This is my wife, Lottie, and my daughter, Leoma.”

  “Well, we’re glad to see you, Mr. Jordan, but it’d be better if you didn’t go down the middle of town. These cattle make a real mess.”

  The two stood talking while the men got the cattle turned so they would circle the town. Aaron studied Heck, who was the first of the marshals they had seen, and Heck was rather unimpressive to him. Jordan said, “I bought Oscar Manning’s ranch.”

  “Yeah, I heard Oscar sold out.”

  “Can you tell me how to get to his place? I’ve got a map, but I can’t make much sense out of it.”

  “Oh, I can do better than that,” Heck said. “I’ll send one of my men to take you there.”

  Aaron shook his head. “You don’t have to go to that trouble. We can take care of ourselves.”

  Heck took off his hat, scratched his head, then put his hat back on and pulled out a corncob pipe. It had tobacco in it evidently, for he struck a match on the seat of his pants and got it to draw. “Well, there’s kind of a problem.”

  “A problem? What kind of a problem?”

  “Well, Oscar had been leavin’ the ranch all by itself, and a couple of pretty tough hairpins… well, they’ve moved into it.”

  “Why, what do they say?”

  “They claim they own the place, but they can’t prove it. They’ll probably be pretty hard to move. I’d better send a man with you in case they prove aggravatin’.” He turned and rode back toward town.

  Aaron only had to wait a few minutes. Heck soon returned, another man riding along. “This is Ty Kincaid,” Heck said as soon as he reined in beside Aaron. “Ty, this is Mr. Jordan and his family. You remember I showed you Oscar Manning’s ranch?”

  “Sure, I remember, Heck.”

  “Well, Mr. Jordan bought the place, but Long Tom Slaughter and Fritz Holder have moved in on it and act like they own it. As a matter of fact, they ran some folks off. They’re actin’ like it’s their ranch. You go along with these folks and move them two out.”

  “Sure will, Marshal.”

  “They may argue. If they do, just arrest ’em and bring ’em back to jail.”

  Aaron Jordan shifted uncomfortably. Ty Kincaid looked a little tougher than Heck, but Aaron thought himself capable of resolving any kind of trouble. “I like to handle my own problems, Marshal Thomas.”

  “You’re gonna have a lot to do starting your new ranch,” Ty said. “Besides, Mr. Heck Thomas is my boss, so I have to mind him. I’ll lead the way.”

  Leoma Jordan walked over to where her father was talking to the two marshals. She found the one named Ty rather attractive and allowed her eyes to trail over him as she asked, “How far is the ranch?”

  “Oh, about ten miles.”

  Pa asked, “Any water along the way?”

  “Sure is, Mr. Jordan. A nice little river. You can water your stock on the way.”

  “All right. Thank you, Marshal Thomas. I don’t think we’ll have any trouble with two men, but I appreciate a guide.”

  “You let Ty here do the fightin’. That’s what he gets paid for.”

  Pa laughed. “I’m not sure about that, but we’ll see.”

  The men got the cattle turned, and Ty rode along the outer end.

  Leoma rode her mare, a paint that was a bit lively and suited her just fine. She moved closer to where Ty was riding and said, “So, you’re a marshal.”

  “Brand-new one.”

  “That right? You haven’t been a marshal long?”

  “No, only a month.”

  “How do you get to be a marshal?”

  “Well, some say you’ve got to get kicked in the head until you lose all your brains.” Ty smiled. “I don’t think there’s any training involved, any special training, that is.”

  Leoma noticed that his eyes constantly moved from side to side as if he were aware of and alert to danger of some form. She had not seen a man like him before except Mingan perhaps. She studied him carefully. “Is it really dangerous?”

  “It is. The worst men in the world are in the Oklahoma Territory.”

  “Why do they come here?”

  “They get into trouble. They get run out of other places by posses and marshals. They come here to Indian Territory, and nobody can come after ’em except one of Judge Parker’s marshals like me.”

  “What’d you do before you became a marshal?”

  “Soldiered for a while. Was a peace officer in Dallas. Did a little prospecting. Didn’t make my mark in any of ’em.” His lips tipped into a grin.

  Leoma was aware that he was a man of rough and durable parts, like a machine intended for hard usage. There was no fineness or smoothness about him. His long mouth was expressive only when he smiled. He had the blackest of hair lying in long chunks on his head, and his eyes were sharp and gray, well bedded in their sockets. He was, she guessed, at least six feet tall, long of arms and meaty of legs with a chest that had breadth rather than thickness. She was impressed by him, which was unusual, for men usually did not impress her. However, she sensed these marshals were a different breed.

  “What about you folks? Where are you from?” Ty asked.

  “Lately from Texas. Dad bought a ranch there, but it was getting crowded. He heard there was plenty of room in the Indian Territory.”

  “Yeah, plenty of reasons why there’s plenty of room.”

  “You mean it will be dangerous to start a ranch here?”

  “I wouldn’t try it unless I had plenty of guns to back it up.”

  “What about you?”

  “What about me?” he asked curiously.

  “Are you going to be a marshal for the rest of your life?”

  “Nope. Your family has been ranching a lot, I take it.”

  “Dad likes to try different things. He owned a factory for a while. Did well at it. Made enough money we went into ranching. Did well at that, too, but as I said, it was getting crowded there.”

  “Well, plenty of room out here. I noticed when I rode by your ranch that there was a creek running through it, so you shouldn’t run short of water. That’s always a problem ranching.”

  Ty smiled at her. She was a beautiful woman, and he was not at all unaware of it. He appreciated the supple lines of her body. She was in that maturity that follows girlhood. Her features were quick to express her thoughts, and there was a fire in her that made her very attractive to him. It brought out the rich and headlong qualities of a spirit otherwise hidden by the cool reserve of her lips.

  “What about you? You got a wife somewhere?” she asked abruptly.

  “No wife. Probably a good thing.”

  “Why would you say that? You don’t like women?”

  “I don’t think marshals should have wives. I hate to think about the women who open the door and find Heck Thomas or one of the other marshals looking sad, and they know that their husbands are dead.”

  Leoma didn’t have a response to this. But she realized this man was tougher than even she had thought. I wonder what type of husband he would make….

  At about three o’clock, Ty rode up to Aaron Jordan and said, “There’s your ra
nch, Mr. Jordan.”

  “Looks right nice.”

  Ty nodded. “Yes, it’s kind of gone downhill lately, but it will make a fine home.”

  “We appreciate you bringing us this far. I guess you can go on back now.”

  “No, I have to mind Mr. Heck Thomas. He’s pretty hard on marshals who don’t obey him. Well, let’s see what it’s like.” He raised his voice. “You fellows bring the herd in slow until I find out how things sit around here.”

  He spurred his horse, and Jordan followed closely. He was aware of two men who had come out. He said as Jordan slowed down, “I think they’re your uninvited guests.”

  “They look pretty tough.”

  “Most everybody is out here. You want me to handle this?”

  “I guess so. I’ll back you up.”

  They rode in and drew up in front of the two men, one of whom had a rifle, the other a gun at his hip. “I’m Ty Kincaid, federal marshal. Who are you fellows?”

  “My name’s Slaughter. This is Fritz Holder. What do you want, Marshal? We ain’t breakin’ no laws.”

  “Afraid you are. You’re living on Mr. Jordan’s property here. You’ll have to pull out.”

  Slaughter laughed. “We’re not pullin’ out.”

  As Slaughter spoke, Ty suddenly pulled out a revolver. He was very still and said, “You can go to jail, or we’ll bury you here. Which will it be?”

  The two men were armed and dangerous, but both of them ostensibly saw that the gun in Ty Kincaid’s hand was steady as a rock.

  Ty kept his eyes fixed on them in terrible intensity.

  “I ain’t shootin’,” Holder said and pulled his hand away from the gun.

  “Take that gun out and put it on the ground, Holder. Slaughter, you put that shotgun down. Do it now.”

  The two obeyed. Slaughter said, “We ain’t breakin’ no laws except trespassin’.”

  “You want to bring charges against them, Mr. Jordan?”

  “No, just get ’em out of here.”

  “You fellows git,” Ty said. “You come back and give these folks any trouble, you’ll have me and Heck and a dozen rangers on your trail. Get your stuff and get out.”

  Aaron motioned for his party to come in. The Indian, Mingan, said to Nelly Fox, “Good thing they gave up. Kincaid’s a killer.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “How can you not tell? Didn’t you see he would have put ’em down in a flash if they had gone for their guns? He’s a hard man, but marshals have to be, I guess.”

  Ty pretended not to hear the praise. He had found it best in these situations.

  The two outlaws soon left with packhorses laden down with their stuff.

  Ty led Aaron and his family into their house.

  Leoma and Lottie shook their heads. Leoma said, “This place is terrible, Pa. Those two men lived like pigs.”

  “Well, we’ve got to clean it up. Might as well get started. You fellows get the cattle settled down and come and help us.”

  “I don’t mind helping a little bit myself,” Ty offered. “I’m too late to get back to Fort Smith.”

  Leoma smiled. “Most men won’t do women’s work.”

  Ty shrugged. “Work is work,” he said. “A man does what he has to do. In this case it will be easier than some other things I’ve done. What do you need first, Mrs. Jordan?”

  They, along with the hands, all cleaned up the house as well as they could for one night’s occupancy. There were bedrooms enough for the family, and Ty slept out in the bunkhouse with the hands.

  When everyone was settling down, Benny came out. “We got some coffee on the stove, Mr. Kincaid. Come along with the other guys and get some.”

  “No mister about it. Just Ty’s good enough. And thanks for the offer. I’ll come with them.”

  Benny turned to go but paused. He faced Ty again, a serious expression dominating his face. “Would you have shot those two men?”

  “If I had to. That’s why I carry a gun. Don’t like to use it, but better to have one than not have one and get shot.”

  “I wish you’d show me how to shoot.”

  “Well, you’ve got a gun.”

  “I never had no lessons though,” Benny said. “I’m pretty good with a rifle, but I can’t shoot straight with a forty-four.”

  “Just like pointing your finger,” Ty said. “Sure. We’ll go out and get some target practice early in the morning.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate it. Glad you came along.” The young man walked away quickly.

  A terrible thought came to Kincaid. That young fellow could get killed. He don’t realize how bad these men are in the Indian Nation. None of them realize it. I hope they don’t find out the hard way.

  CHAPTER 11

  Raina tried to make yellow laundry soap foam but had no luck. For a moment she walked over and looked out the dirty window, and she remembered that Mrs. Mullins had told her they needed to be cleaned as soon as possible. The order came back to her, and she recalled how she had been glad to find a place to sleep and something to eat. But now, looking back on the days she had spent working as a combination maid, cook, and whatever other work needed to be done, she felt the weariness drain into her. For a moment she considered sitting down at the table, but now that the meal was over, she knew that the rest of the work would have to be done.

  She lingered at the window for a few more minutes, and she saw a yellow tomcat creeping across the yard. A smile touched her lips as she saw the mockingbird that daily administered a thrashing to the big tom. The cat’s head was scarred, and he crept along as if he could make himself invisible to the bird, but the mockingbird rose in the air, took a dive, and uttering a series of bird sounds, hit the yellow tom who didn’t even run but rolled up in a ball as close as he could.

  “Stupid tomcat.” Raina shook her head in disgust. “All you have to do is reach out and grab that bird, and your troubles would be over. I wish mine were that simple.”

  She was weary with asking people if they had seen her father, and although she had had several copies of the picture of him made, nobody seemed to have any memory of him. Maybe he’s not here at all, she thought. Maybe he went somewhere else. He could be anywhere. He could be dead. She turned away from her depressing thoughts and began cleaning up the dishes. She raked off the scraps onto one plate.

  Going back to the window, she opened it and threw the leftovers out. The birds came at once since she had made a habit of this. She watched as some sparrows began to fight over the scraps and smiled. I guess the birds in this town are just as mean-spirited as the people here—and everywhere else I’ve been.

  Moving wearily, she transferred all the dishes to the kitchen then straightened up with disgust when she heard the bell attached to the door ring. “Another customer,” she muttered. “Now I’ll have to cook him a meal. I wonder who it is.”

  She moved out of the kitchen, and her eyes opened with surprise when she saw that Ty Kincaid had entered and was standing in the middle of the room.

  Their eyes met, and he said, “Hello, Raina.”

  “Hello, Ty.”

  Ty seemed at a loss, but then he said, “I just came in from a job and the restaurants are all shut down. You think you can fix me something to eat?”

  “It won’t be much, but I got some leftover steak and some potatoes and some greens, and I think there’s some biscuits.”

  “You got any buttermilk?”

  “Yes, I think there’s a little of that. Sit down and I’ll heat the food up for you.”

  She moved back into the kitchen and busied herself with putting the meal together. Fortunately the stove was still warm, so the vegetables and the steak were not cold. She filled up a plate and then a large glass with buttermilk, and adding a knife and fork, she moved back into the dining room.

  Ty was slumped in the chair, fatigue etched across his features. She thought again what a fine-looking man he was and wondered that he had never married. He had said nothing much about his
life, and she had not asked. The plate rattled when she set it in front of him, and he straightened up.

  He looked up and grinned at her. “That looks mighty good, Raina. I haven’t had anything to eat in nearly two days.”

  Raina did not respond and turned to go away.

  He suddenly stopped her and said, “Raina, you look tired.”

  “I guess I am. I thought it was hard working in that saloon on the border, but this work is just as hard. At least I’m away from my brother-in-law. As bad as some of the men act toward me here, it is nothing like having Millard always after me.”

  Ty began to cut up the steak and said, “Sit down and talk to me. I’ve had no company but my horse.”

  “What were you doing?” She sat down, felt the weariness leave her, and then said, “Did you go out after an outlaw?”

  “Well, there was three of us, and we looked for the fellow we thought held up the bank over in Green Springs, but he had an alibi so we couldn’t bring him in.”

  Raina sat there watching him eat and noticed that he did not gobble his food like most men did. She saw he was watching her closely, and finally he said, “You know, you look like you need a week’s vacation with somebody to wait on you.”

  Raina smiled, but there was a touch of bitterness in it. “I don’t have anybody like that.”

  “Well,” Ty mused and took a sip of buttermilk. Putting it down, he wiped his upper lip with a handkerchief that had seen better days. “There’s an old saying. Sometimes there’s just a good time waiting to happen.”

  “I’m having trouble believing that, Ty.”

  He took another bite, chewed it thoughtfully, and said, “You know, I think a lot about my grandfather. He made me read the Bible every day, and sometimes he read it to me. I remember a verse he quoted to me over and over and over again. I don’t know where it is in the Bible, but he would have known.”

  “What does it say?”

  “It says, ‘In every thing give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you.’”

  “That doesn’t make any sense to me. In everything give thanks? How could you be thankful when something bad happens?”