Killing Halfbreed

by Mason, Zack

  They chatted about all kinds of things, and he found himself relaxing around her. She was very easy to be with.

  The only subject which seemed to bother her was her father’s death. Her eyes filled with tears once when he’d stupidly mentioned it, and it had about wrenched his heart in two. He was too young to realize he was falling in love.

  ***

  The shack was poorly built and unknown to most of the inhabitants of Cottonwood Valley. Its walls were made of pine slats, roughly hewn and fitted together oddly, leaving large gaps between them. It had been erected in haste and with little care.

  The air outside was chilly tonight. Normally, that chill would have been felt inside the little shack, but tonight it was so full of people, their body heat kept it out. The warmth they produced actually made the cramped space somewhat stuffy. On top of that, a few of them insisted on smoking.

  Rob Murphy had formed himself quite an impressive conglomerate of men. He was the head rustler in the valley and nobody, outside of this group, was the wiser. He was also the foreman on Bill Hartford's ranch, which helped keep him above suspicion as reports of rustling grew. Betraying the trust of his employer didn't bother him in the least.

  His plan had been simple in nature, but more complicated to execute. Over the past year, he'd carefully selected men he felt he could trust to keep their mouths shut from each of the three ranches until he had a group of about nine men. They rustled cattle regularly from each of the ranches, and different men took turns doing the stealing on different nights. So, every ranch lost cattle, and different men were unaccounted for each night, leaving no visible pattern for anyone to point at. All the cattle they stole, they rounded up in a small box canyon hidden on what was now Jake Talbot's ranch.

  This little aspect of the plan had served them better than he could have hoped for. Ben Talbot had been a newcomer to the valley and staked his claim on an important piece of property. Since Murphy's gang hid all their stolen cattle on his land, all the tracks led there. Naturally, suspicion began to fall on Talbot for their crimes.

  They hadn’t intended for Talbot to get blamed, but it couldn't have worked out more perfectly. The box canyon just happened to be on his ranch, and it was simply the best hiding place for however many cows they could get away with.

  Hooking up with the Talon gang had been the masterstroke. It hadn't been long before Murph's gang had amassed a good enough number of cows that they needed to be moved up the trail and sold.

  Who to do it though? Any man who left the area long enough to run them up the trail would definitely be missed on the ranch where they worked.

  One day in town, Murphy had bumped into John Talon. They’d started talking, and it wasn't long before they'd come up with a workable business plan. Murph and his men would continue to rustle the ranches and gather the cattle they got in the little canyon. When they had enough to send up the trail, the Talons would drive them up and sell them. The profits would be split in half between the Talons and Murph, and then Murph would split his profits with his men.

  Tonight was one of the nights, which seemed too few and far between, when everyone got paid. They met together in this shack to split the loot, but tonight, they were still waiting on the Talons to arrive.

  Murph surveyed the room and sized up the men waiting with him. He did that often. There were only a couple here this evening from his gang. To his left, was Juan Del Rosario, a hand on Dunagan's ranch. A stocky Mexican with sharp black eyes, Juan pretty much kept to himself. He smelled of cheap cologne and wore his inky hair greased down and swept back. A ragged scar ran down one cheek. No one knew what had caused it.

  Rusty Conner sat next to him. He also worked for Dunagan. He had brownish-red hair, a beard to match, and thus his nickname. Rusty always wore flannel shirts, denim jeans and sometimes a pair of red suspenders. He was a strong looking man, barrel-chested and thick-armed, known for telling tall tales. His favorite story was a brag about how he’d once wrestled a black bear and won. Looking at him, Murph thought that one might actually be true.

  Next to him sat Mitch Byrd, who was a hand for the Logans. Murph didn't like Byrd much; his face reminded him of a weasel. There always seemed to be plotting and scheming going on behind those beady black eyes. Byrd wasn't very impressive physically either, not like Conner.

  Murph was doubly annoyed by Byrd tonight because he'd brought Henry Tadd to the meeting without asking permission. Normally, that would have been a big problem, but they were short a man, and Tadd seemed eager to join the group.

  “Tadd, get over here.”

  Tadd moved toward the leader, nervously puffing up his chest, trying to look bigger than he felt.

  “Why’d you come here, Tadd? What do you want from us?”

  “I aim to ask Jinny Logan to marry me and I need a stake. Hostler’s wages ain’t gonna never get me there.”

  Everybody snickered a little at that. Murph was tempted to mock the boy. How in the world did he plan to ask little Miss Logan to marry him after he’d built a stake by stealing Logan cattle? The boy didn’t fully understand what they were up to yet, so Murph held his tongue. If the boy didn’t go along after they filled him in, his blood would be on Byrd’s head for bringing him without asking.

  “Well, you’ll make a good bit if you throw in with us, if we let you, that is. What do you have to offer, little man?”

  Tadd reddened. “I’m a hard worker.”

  Everybody laughed harder at that. “We’re all trying hard to avoid work here, boy!”

  “Rustlin’s gotta be hard work, moving cattle ain’t never easy.”

  “You got a point there, I’ll give you that.” Murph stared at the boy mercilessly.

  “I want to kill Jake Talbot!” he burst out suddenly.

  “Why?”

  “He killed Jinny’s dad!”

  “Look, boy, you throw in with us, you’re going to have plenty to do and no time for stuff like that. Still, you might get the opportunity. That is, if we don’t beat you to it. Just sit over there for now.”

  Murph had decided to give him a chance to prove himself. If it didn't work out, they would get rid of him. While they were at it, they might just get rid of Byrd too.

  Finally, the door opened, letting a refreshing bit of cool air disrupt the stuffiness. John and Jim Talon ducked into the already filled room, followed by Luke Phillips and Charlie Pugh.

  Time for the fun part: Dividing up the money.

  ***

  The man opened the envelope and studied the flowery script from his cousin back east.

  Dearest Cousin,

  I trust and hope you find yourself in good health as you receive this letter. The realization of our common endeavor is growing near as I'm sure you are aware.

  The purpose of this correspondence is to secure verification from you that the property which I have previously mentioned on several occasions is indeed, without obstacle, available at this time for the fulfillment of our mutual goals, and will remain so until it is required.

  At our last speaking, you indicated some doubt in regards to this. As I have many curious and aggressive investors, not to mention superiors, constantly pushing for the culmination of our project, I felt the need to contact you for affirmation that this situation has, in fact, been resolved.

  As I write, I am supremely confident of your abilities in matters such as these, as you demonstrated so many times here in New York. Please advise me as to the current circumstances without delay, although I am undoubtedly sure of the positive nature of your response.

  Sincerely,

  Sinclair DuPont

  His cousin was as verbose as ever, and trusted just as little. How many times did he have to reassure him that everything was in order and ready?

  The fact that things weren't exactly as settled as he made them out to be didn't matter, because it would be by the time it was needed. He'd write Sinclair right away and tell him what he wanted to hear. He probably should send a telegram instead,
since time was running short, but that could be risky.

  He didn't yet have Ben Talbot’s property in his hands, but he would...and soon.

  As if I couldn’t get any stupider, tonight I had decided to break into the home of Jim Dunagan.

  I pushed the cotton curtain aside and lifted my leg over the window sill. Straddling the sill, a bellowing voice froze me in place.

  "One false move and I'll blow you to kingdom come. I've got you covered with a scattergun and I ain't likely to miss. Now, come on in the rest of the way, real slow and careful like, with your hands up!”

  I'd been trying to sneak into the ranch house to accomplish this very thing, a private meeting with Dunagan. Things weren't exactly going according to plan though, Dunagan having caught me in the act of breaking in and covering me with a shotgun. I’d wanted to have the advantage when we met, not be under the threat of being shot. Oh well.

  I considered turning tail and running, but I knew I wouldn't make it two feet before a large hole would be blown in my back. Resignedly, I sighed and, lifting my hands high as ordered, did my best to stumble the rest of the way into the rancher's kitchen without humiliating myself by falling.

  Dunagan's eyes opened wide when he recognized the face before him.

  "Talbot! Why of all the sneaky underhanded….what in the name of all that’s good are you doing breaking into my house in the middle of the night? You've got three seconds to make a believer out of me before I blow you apart as your stinkin' carcass deserves!"

  Beads of sweat broke out across my forehead. I didn’t like scatterguns, even less at this close a range.

  "I came here to talk with you peaceably, Dunagan."

  "Bull!" His finger tightened on the trigger.

  "You can kill me if you want, but that's the truth."

  "What'd you really come here for, Talbot? To rob me? Kill my family?"

  "No, calm down…”

  “Don’t you tell me to calm down!”

  Dunagan lifted the twelve gauge threateningly.

  “Look, I just came to talk to you. I need to speak with you because no one else can answer my questions. I only snuck in because I didn't want one of your hands seeing me and blowing me away. Half the people on your ranch would shoot me on sight. I need to ask you what happened that night before my hanging."

  He considered this and let his grip on the trigger relax. In spite of what happened with Tom Logan, Dunagan had always seemed to like and respect me. Still, it was hard to lend a lot of credence to a known murderer who was breaking into your home in the middle of the night.

  "You want to know about that night? Why?"

  "Because it's driving me crazy! I can't sleep, I can't eat. Any other town would have hung me. They were dead set on it, but they hung that other guy instead. I don't even know who he was, or why they hung him. Why did he die when I was supposed to?"

  "Sit down, Jake." His tone softened along with his eyes. He motioned to the breakfast table. "But take your guns out first and drop them on the floor. I'm going to put this shotgun down, but I'm going to take my .45 out and keep you covered while we talk. Hope you understand."

  I nodded and we both sat down.

  "Listen, Jake, you know I always took a liking to you, but I sure didn't cotton to what you did. Tom was my friend, and you shooting him was mighty wrong. Mighty wrong!" He thumped his fist down on the table in emphasis, but softly so as to not wake his family.

  "Still, I have to admit what Tom did was mighty foolish. You just don't go unarmed to accuse a drunk man of rustlin’ cattle. As for that, I don't think you're a rustler, nor do I think your brother was.

  “I did at first, mind you, and I'll tell you what, all the hands on my ranch are convinced you are. So's Bill Hartford and all his hires. Tom obviously did too. I don't. Call it intuition if you will, but I think something funny is going on, and I think we're all getting taken.

  "To me, you're the man who murdered my friend, so don't think all's forgiven. I wouldn't even be talking to you now except for what happened that night. I think you've got a right to know.

  "The night before your execution, we were all sitting in the bar talking and playing poker. By we, I mean the town council. We were enjoying ourselves pretty well at the thought of you gettin' what you deserved….and there was this boy there, you see, well, he wasn't really a boy. He was a man I'd say, especially after what he did.

  "We shot the breeze a little with him, found out his name was Joshua Miller, that he was in town from up Colorado way with his sister. More than that, he wouldn't allow, just kind of kept quiet. Watched us more than anything. Not in a way that would make you uncomfortable, mind you. He was a very likable fellow.

  "After a while, he just got up and left. I noticed, but didn't really pay it no mind. He came back a little later and sat with us until we all threw in our chips and headed home. He stayed after we left.

  "I wouldn't have known any more about where he'd gone if the sheriff hadn't told us later. It seems that when he left, he went to visit Sheriff McCraigh.

  "McCraigh said Miller strolled into his office just like anybody else and then calmly announced that he wanted to be hung in your place, but only if he could be guaranteed that you'd be spared.

  "Well, needless to say, McCraigh just stared at him for a minute, mouth agape, and then burst into laughter. In all his years, why, in all our years, I don't think anybody's ever heard of such a thing. I mean, imagine it!

  “It ain't every day someone waltzes into a sheriff's office and offers to die in the place of a criminal. Pretty bizarre if you ask me."

  Dunagan chuckled softly at the idea, then straightened up quick again, remembering I was sitting across the table.

  "The Sheriff thought so too, and he sent that boy packing, laughing at him all the way out. He figured the boy was crazy, or drunk, or just pulling some joke. Even if he had been sincere, there was absolutely no way on earth the sheriff or anyone else in town was going to let you get away with murder and hang some innocent kid. At least, that's what you would think, huh?

  “Well, anyway, we didn't know anything about what had happened between Miller and the sheriff. Joshua came back to the saloon and sat there a while longer, without us being any the wiser.

  "I went home that night, beat tired. The minute I hit the pillow, I was out cold. Until about three-thirty in the morning that is, when I jerked awake, as if from a nightmare. I sat bolt upright in bed, one solitary thought racing through my mind, over and over and over again. Actually, it was more like a conviction than a thought.

  "Joshua shall go in place of Jacob. Joshua shall go in place of Jacob. Joshua shall go in place of Jacob.

  “It was like a relentless mantra echoing in my head. The words literally boomed in my mind like a giant voice. It wasn't till I saw my wife asleep next to me that I realized I was the only one who could hear it. After a couple minutes, the mantra slowly quieted until I couldn't hear it anymore.

  "I hadn't spoken with Joshua Miller much that evening, didn’t even know his first name yet, but his face was in my mind as clear as day. I'd never heard you called Jacob before either, but I knew who the message was talking about.

  “I call it a message because that's what it was, a message. I knew deep in my core, without a doubt, that it was a message from God.

  “I tell you, Talbot, I'm a God-fearing man. I know when He's spoken to me or not, and this was a case where there could be no doubt. I felt like He'd taken me and shaken my bones around until I had no choice but to obey.

  “I tried to go back to sleep, but couldn't. After an hour or so, I got up, dressed and headed back into town only to find the rest of the town council waiting for me in the saloon. The sheriff was there too, wide awake and drinking a mug full o’ joe.

  “Each of them had the same astonished look on their faces, the same look I imagined would have been on mine if I'd looked in a mirror.

  “Sheriff McCraigh had a similar experience to mine, but his message was slightly
different. He said the words that filled his thoughts were ‘The Innocent for the Guilty’. Even though his ‘message’ hadn't even mentioned the hanging, he'd understood what it'd meant just as clearly as I had.

  “The others had even stronger visions. They, to a man, claimed that the Angel of the Lord had come to them in their sleep and commanded them to hang Joshua in your place. The shocked, frightened looks on their faces convinced me they were telling the truth.

  “Now, we had no idea if it was legal or not, or if we even had the right to do it, but we knew we had no choice but to do what we'd been told to do. Only one man voted the other way. He said it had been some kind of mass hallucination and we were crazy to give in to it.

  “The rest of us were under no such illusion. We knew it wasn't coincidence that had brought that boy to town and had caused him to request his own death before we ever went to sleep. Reservations filled our hearts and muddled our minds. My goodness, we were considering killing an innocent man. No rationalization we could think of changed that.

  "We knew Tom's family would never understand. We knew many in the town might even hate us. Heck, we figured we might even catch some kind of legal problems later, but after all was said and done we couldn't argue our conclusion away.

  "A deep conviction burned inside each one of us. What we had to do went flatly against our hearts and what we thought was right. Yet, we were left with no choice.

  "Bright and early, Joshua showed back up at the sheriff's door, smiling, as if he already knew what had happened to us. He didn't even speak, just stood there looking at the sheriff expectantly, waiting for him to announce our decision.

  “When McCraigh told him we'd accepted his offer, he didn't even blink. He just asked to have time to say good-bye to his sister, and you know the rest."

  Dunagan reclined back in his chair, watching me as I took it all in.