The man came around and put his foot up against the sole of Knight’s shoe, then bent and got a closer look.
“Our feet’s ’bout the same size, but you got a hole in that shoe big enough to shove a silver dollar through.” He reached over and poked with his finger. “That anything more’n old, rottin’ newspaper you got shoved in there?”
“All I could find.”
“You are truly a man down on his luck, Doctor . . . ?”
“Dr. Samuel Knight from Pine Knob. That’s where I’m heading.”
“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Doc. I’m Jake—Jacobs. Leonard Jacobs. Folks just call me Jake, though.” He hobbled around and sank down on a log next to Knight’s stump.
“Thank you for your kindness, Jake. You . . . you got any food?”
“Reckon I’m in a similar situation as you, Doc. Nobody wants to help out a gimp.” He thrust out his left leg and rubbed it. “Too many soldiers returnin’ for me to find a decent job. And the Federals, curse ’em all, they moved in with Reconstruction blowin’ at their backs, and took over ’bout everything. No spare food for any son of the South.”
“You?”
“Me and you, from the sound of it, Doc. But I got an idea, only there’s nuthin’ I can do for it.”
“Food?”
“More’n just food. All we can eat and a few dollars, to boot. Likely only them damned Federal greenbacks but what good’s a hunnerd-dollar bill with Lucy Pickens’s fine portrait on it? Or even a five-hunnerd piece of scrip sportin’ that great general, Stonewall Jackson?” Jake tipped his head to the side and squinted in Knight’s direction. “You ever see Confederate money with denominations that large?”
Knight shook his head.
“Well, sir, I did and am proud of it. Only them Federals stole it all away and left me with a bad leg and nothing more’n the clothes on my back.”
“What of food?” It was all Knight could think of, right at the moment. “How do we get food?”
“You ain’t adverse to doin’ a little thievin’, now are you? If it’s from turncoats cozyin’ up with the carpetbaggers?”
“I was tempted to steal a peach pie from a little girl. Anyone helping the Yankees is fair game.”
“That’s the spirit!” Jake slapped him on the back and almost knocked him off the stump. “Now, I got me a plan, but with my bad leg and all, I can’t rightly do much by myself. The two of us workin’ as a fine Rebel team, now, we have a chance.”
Knight turned slightly to face Jake. The man rubbed his leg as if it hurt him.
“I’m not going to be much help. I’m so weak. My eyes don’t focus all the time.”
“You don’t have to see too good. That’s the beauty of my plan. We’re not a half hour’s walk from a town.” Jake looked hard at him. “Call it an hour away, what with your shoe and that hole and all. It’ll be dark when we get there. I’ll keep an eye peeled for the marshal or the owner comin’ round all unexpectedlike while you break in and scoop up food for the pair of us.”
“It’s a store?”
“A restaurant. Best of all, the damn fool owner keeps all the money he takes in hidden behind his stove. We get food and money, money from carpetbaggers eatin’ their fine meals all in style while the rest of the town starves ’cuz there ain’t no money. The Yankees have sucked the townspeople dry with taxes and fines and levies.”
Knight had to speak up over his growling stomach. He rubbed it until it subsided. “I swear, I can feel my backbone when I press in like this.”
“You say you’re on your way to Pine Knob? That’s another hunnerd miles to the west. A long walk, but a couple days’ hard ride iffen you set astride a horse. Maybe three or four days if you take it easy. You could be in the bed next to your lovin’ wife ’fore you know it. What’s her name again?”
“Victoria.”
“You and the missus must have a lot of catchin’ up to do. Get the money from the damned carpetbaggers and you can buy a horse, a good one, and let it run. As featherlight as you are, you can gallop it all the way and it won’t feel nuthin’ but the saddle.”
Knight closed his eyes and imagined himself home. It seemed like a fantasy to him, a dream he had given up on.Victoria. Home. Bed and food and Victoria.
The thought of his lovely wife kept him moving. They reached the small town a little after midnight, if Knight judged the position of the stars right. The streets were deserted. He looked around for the saloon, but even it had shut down.
“Why isn’t it open? The saloon?”
Jake laughed harshly and shook his head. “It don’t open on Sundays. They got some religious feelin’ in this town, even if it is overrun by damned Yankees.”
“Sunday?” Knight said dully. He had lost track of time, how long he had been walking, the day of the week. All that had mattered was taking one more step to get back to Pine Knob.
Victoria. He had to be with his wife again, but the impact of what he was about to do crashed in on him. “I can’t rob a store on the Sabbath.”
“You don’t have to. By now it’s past midnight. It’s Monday, not Sunday. We got to hurry. The proprietors will be in there soon to start the day’s cookin.” Jake spat. “Cookin’ for the carpetbaggers. They line up and make all kinds of nasty remarks about us, about us Rebs and Southerners. They especially hate Texans.”
Knight felt adrenaline pumping through his veins. He straightened. Everything Jake said was likely true. He had met with little charity as he crossed the country. The towns run by the Reconstruction judges and lawmen were the worst. He had almost gotten lynched for nothing more than passing through one town in Louisiana.
“That’s the place. You get on ’round back and break in. I’ll keep watch. The deputy makes rounds whenever he wakes up.”
“What’ll you do if he comes? He’s likely armed. Do you have a gun?”
Jake laughed harshly, took hold of the tails of his coat and pulled them away from his body to show nothing but his suspender buttons.
“If I’d had a six-gun, I would’ve hocked it for a square meal. Listen for a mockingbird. You hear one, that’s me warning you.” Jake came over and slapped him on the shoulder. “You’re a good man, Doc. I know I can trust you. What’d I say about the money box?”
“Behind the stove.”
“Get going. I’m gonna find a lookout spot.”
Knight watched Jake hurry off. Something was wrong, but he couldn’t focus well enough to figure out what it was. Then he forced everything but the robbery from his mind. The restaurant stood in a simple wood-frame building. Around back he found a locked door. He tried it, but it had been barred on the inside. Trying to force it open wouldn’t do him any good. Even if he had strength enough to kick in the door or slam it open with his shoulder, that would cause too much of a ruckus. The town slept peacefully. Sudden noise like that would awaken the dead.
Or worse, the deputy marshal.
He pressed his hand against the door and applied a little pressure, only to give up trying to push it inward. Running his fingers down the poorly fitted frame he found a spot that yielded when he pulled outward. Sitting on the ground, shoving his feet against the wall, and pulling with what strength remained to him caused one panel to pop free. He landed flat on his back, staring up at the stars. Clouds moved in from down south, coming off the Gulf of Mexico and bringing a spring storm.
He sat up and ran his arm through the opening, then slowly worked his way up until his fingers brushed the locking bar. Heaving, he lifted the bar and let it drop to the floor inside. The door opened on well-oiled hinges. He was in.
Knight tumbled forward and almost passed out from the odors in the kitchen. Food. Fresh and wonderful. Mouth watering, belly rumbling, he crawled forward and pulled himself up to a table. Greedily stuffing stale bread into his mouth caused him to choke. Common sense took over. Eating more slowly, he let the bread make its way down his constricted esophagus into his belly. New rumblings told him he might puke. His stomach
and food had been strangers for too long. A dipper of water helped ease the complaints.
More bread gave him reason to continue. As he scavenged for food that would go into a flour sack, he kept eating. Cheese. A bit of beef so tough that his teeth wobbled as he gnawed on it. Pickles from ajar. Okra. He ate anything and everything until he felt bloated.
He turned to filling the flour sack for Jake and his meals later rather than eating. When the sack weighed him down, he went to the cast-iron stove and reached behind it. He cut his fingers on a sharp-edged metal box. Fumbling it out and dropping it on the kitchen floor, he saw that a small padlock held it shut. He hunted until he found a knife and tried to force open the lock. Before he applied enough leverage, a warbling sound came from outside.
The noise puzzled him for a moment, then he realized Jake sounded a very poor mockingbird’s call. He stuffed the metal box into the top of the food-laden flour sack, tucked the knife into his waistband and went to the door. A quick look out made him catch his breath. A dark figure stalked along.
The clouds moved away from the moon enough to cause a glint off a badge. Worse, the deputy carried a shotgun in the crook of his arm and he came directly for the opened door. Knight touched the knife, then knew facing down an armed lawman with a butcher knife was suicidal. He closed the door, then lifted the locking bar. It fell into place just as the deputy reached the outside.
“You in there, Gus? That you? Open up. Gus? Augustus!”
The deputy began banging on the barred door with the shotgun’s stock.
Knight caught his breath, wondering what to do. Then he realized the only way out was through the main dining room and out the front of the restaurant. The energy given him by the food heightened his senses and put spring into his step. He felt better than he had in weeks. He dodged through the red-and-white checked cloth-draped tables to the front door held shut by a lock. Without thinking, he slid the knife between the hasp and door and pulled down with every ounce of strength he had. The nails holding the hasp ripped free. He burst out into the street and looked around frantically. Jake’s plan had ended with them leaving the restaurant undetected.
“Don’t just stand there. Come along.” Jake motioned to him from the corner of the building.
“What about the deputy?”
“Don’t worry your head none ’bout him. Just hightail it.”
Knight had considered asking if they could go to a livery stable and steal a horse. That was a damned sight worse than stealing food and some money. Men got their necks stretched for such a crime, but he wasn’t sure how far and fast he could run, even with his belly full.
Besides, was it really a crime stealing a Yankee’s horse? After all they had done to him and the other prisoners in Elmira? They owed him more than a horse. They owed him a life.
“No time to dawdle. We might have the whole town comin’ down on our heads.” Jake scuttled away, moving fast for a man with a bum leg and forcing Knight to trail behind. He found himself hard put to keep up with the man.
They left the town and plunged into a wooded area darker than the inside of a cow. Somehow, Jake found his way through the stygian night. Knight wasn’t as skilled at avoiding low branches or even tree trunks. He bounced from one to the next, following his partner in crime more by sound than sight. After what seemed an eternity he popped out into a clearing.
Jake stood at the edge, hands on his knees, bent over and panting harshly. He looked up as Knight approached. “You hang onto the loot? Lemme see.” Jake grabbed the flour sack from his feeble grasp and held it open. The tin box tumbled out to the ground. “You got it! I’m rich!”
“I got us enough food to last a few days. If we use some of the money to buy horses, we can be in Pine Knob real soon.”
“Pine Knob? Oh, yeah, Pine Knob.” Jake looked around, found a rock, and smashed the small lock. “Lookee here. There must be a hunnerd dollars inside. I knew that son of a bitch was rich, but I never thought he had this much salted away.” He looked up and danced a little jig.
Knight stepped closer. The stacks of greenbacks might amount to that much. A few silver cartwheels rattled about in the box. Jake grabbed them and stuffed them into his coat pockets.
“Is your leg all right? You seemed mighty spry after the way you were dragging it around when we met.”
“My leg? Oh, it’s hurtin’ something fierce, Doc. We got the time. You think you can do something about it for me?”
Knight went to him and knelt, then looked up. “Which leg was it? You’ve been limping on both legs . . . and neither.”
“It comes and goes, the pain does. It’s my right leg. See?”
As Knight looked down, Jake launched a kick that caught his benefactor under the chin. Knight’s head snapped back, and he sat heavily, stunned. Through blurred eyes he saw Jake lifting the rock he had used to break the lock. Then the world went dark all around him.
CHAPTER 2
Samuel Knight smiled and rolled over, pulled the pillow tightly under his head, and settled down. He was home. Back in his own bed. Warm and safe.
“Victoria?” He reached out for his wife and recoiled when his hand smashed into a rock wall.
He worked hard to open his eyes against the crusted gunk gluing the eyelids together. A quick swipe broke the seal and let him stare directly into an unfamiliar wall. Struggling, he sat up, swung around, and dropped his feet to the cell floor. Cell? He panicked. In front of him rose iron bars. He was in a cage again, just as he had been at Elmira every time he tried to help his fellow prisoners of war.
“You finally decided to wake up, huh?” A portly man came from the shadows on the far side of the cage. He pushed his face forward until his chubby cheeks pressed into the bars to get a better look at Knight. “You don’t look like you got the strength to do the dirty deed.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Go on, play innocent. That won’t cut it when you get to court. We’re on the circuit for Karl Lassiter, the toughest judge ever to come to Texas, or so folks claim. Don’t know about that, but he has sentenced three men from town to hang since the end of the war.”
“A Reconstruction judge?” Knight spit out the words.
“He’s from Wisconsin, that’s true, and he was an elector for Abe Lincoln. Ain’t sayin’ that’s how he got this job, but the way things are these days it didn’t hurt none.”
“You’re going to hang me?”
“Not me. Judge Lassiter. And a jury of your peers.” The man pulled back from the bars. For the first time Knight saw the marshal’s badge pinned on the taut cloth of a vest. “I’d say you deserve it, if Slowpoke dies.”
“Slowpoke? Dies?” Knight held his head and winced when he touched the large lump where Jake had clobbered him.
“Don’t reckon you’d know my deputy’s name. We call him Slowpoke. Slowpoke Bennet. Now that I think on it, I’m not sure I ever heard his real name. Might be Clarence. If I have to make up a tombstone, it’d be proper to put his Christian name on it.” The marshal mumbled to himself.
“I was attacked. A man named Jake. Leonard Jacobs, I think was his full name.”
“Now, don’t go lyin’ just to save your neck, mister. You hit Slowpoke with a rock and put him into a coma. Doc Phillips ain’t sure he’ll ever come out of his stupor, though it’s hard to tell the difference between him layin’ in bed now and when he was sleepin’ on my desk while he was on duty.” The marshal chuckled, shook his head, then sobered. “I ain’t got no call jokin’ about him. He was a decent man. Not too bright, but he did his job, such as it was. If it was left to me, you’d swing for ambushin’ him, no matter if he dies.”
“I never touched your deputy. Jake hit me. It’s Jake you want.”
“You denyin’ you broke into Gus’s restaurant and stole his money? Where’d you stash it? The money box was empty when we found it. And don’t you go tryin’ to say one of my posse stole it. They were all family. Two brothers and a cousin. Honest as the day is l
ong, the lot of them, even if Cousin David did stray a mite when he stole that scrawny calf, but that was when he was younger and full of piss and vinegar . . . and a considerable amount of ’shine.”
Knight put his head in his hands and leaned forward, trying to think. Jake had hit him. The man had set him up. The reason he limped first on one leg and then the other was that neither was injured. It had all been a ruse to get a sucker to take the risk of breaking in and stealing the money from the restaurant owner. His hunger and weakened condition had made him easy to hoodwink.
Now he was going to swing for a crime Jake committed.
“Is your doctor well trained?”
“Now, why do you ask that? Doc Phillips is a good man.”
“I’m a doctor and saw too many wounds during the war. Traumatic injuries can be treated, and I have the experience.”
“Well, now, Doc Phillips ain’t a medical doctor. He’s a vet. Damn good one. He saved Ramon Zamora’s prize bull last year when nobody thought it was possible. Then he did a good job on—”
“I can help. Let me see what I can do for your deputy.”
“Anything to bamboozle me into lettin’ you out of that iron cage? No, siree. You ain’t gettin’ me to turn the key in the lock. Not today, not until Judge Lassiter orders you to appear in court to stand trial.”
The marshal lumbered off, puffing from the exertion. A door leading into the outer office closed, followed by a metallic click as a key turned in a lock. Knight was doubly locked into the cell. Even if he escaped from the cage, he had another door to open before confronting the marshal in his office.
He got to his feet, wobbled a bit and began examining his predicament. Some of the bars were rusty—but not rusted through enough to make escape possible. The hard-packed dirt floor was almost as good as concrete for preventing a prisoner from digging out. The outer wall he had banged his hand into had been constructed with imprisonment in mind. A barred window set high in the wall was too small to squeeze through, even in his emaciated condition, even if he pried off the bars, even if he jumped high enough to get out. Elmira had been mostly large, tattered tents to house the prisoners, with sheet-iron cages and pits dug deep into the ground for extra punishment. A few days spent in both had given Knight experience in sizing up the chances to escape.
Revenge of the Mountain Man Page 24