Ride Away

by Smith, Cotton

  Holt saw a spider prance across the back of the stall. Good luck, he decided. Definitely good luck. As he swung the saddle into place, Ranger Williams stepped beside the opened stall.

  “Sorry we have to do this,” Williams said. “But we have to, you know.”

  Holt cocked his head and reached for the cinch under the horse’s belly. “Yeah, guess so. They didn’t do it, you know.”

  “Don’t think so either. Do I know you?”

  “Don’t know. Where you from?” Holt said. “I came from Kansas.”

  “Oh. You looked sorta familiar to me.”

  “Really? Some folks around say I look like I should be one of the Corrigan brothers.” He grinned.

  Williams smiled. “Not hardly.”

  From the next stall, Willy yelled, “You know, I had a guy say that about me. Last year it was.”

  Williams turned toward his partner. “See anything, Rice?”

  “No. It’s clear.”

  “All right, let’s get moving to town.”

  The Rangers reappeared from the barn with Holt and Willy leading the saddled horses. “We’ll take the two of you to town. Will you go peacefully?”

  “Yes. But we’re keeping our guns until we get there,” Blue said. “I don’t trust Bordner or his bunch.”

  Ranger Williams looked at his fellow lawman. “That’ll work for us. No tricks now.”

  “No tricks. May I tell my wife good-bye?” Blue asked.

  “I’ll go with you,” Ranger Rice declared.

  “That won’t be necessary,” Ranger Williams responded. “He just gave us his word.”

  Ranger Rice mumbled something under his breath and remounted.

  After a brief good-bye, Blue returned to the group carrying several towels and a newspaper. He said the towels were for washing themselves in the morning and the paper, for catching up on their reading. What no one knew was that Blue had a needle and a small circle of thread in his pocket to execute an idea Bina had suggested. He shoved the towels and newspaper into his saddlebags and mounted his horse. Deed noticed his brother had a glove shoved into his back pocket. Also unknown to anyone was a loaded derringer hidden in Blue’s boot, again Bina’s suggestion.

  Coming up next to him, Holt said, “I won’t let you guys take this fall.”

  “I know. Ride for the station. We’re going to need Mrs. Forsyth to testify,” Blue said quietly. “Same with Felix Sanchez. Tell Silka to bring the money from the drive. All of it. We’re going to end this. One way or the other.”

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  Blue looked at his brother and nudged his horse into a lope to catch up to Deed. The two brothers rode out with a Ranger on either side of them. At Deed’s insistence, Shields rode in front.

  A half hour later, Rhey Selmon in his bearskin coat and six riders cleared a ravine and rode up. The man with a long scar across the bottom of his face and the blond gunman with strange eyes and a weak chin rode on either side of him. They were surprised to see guns in the Corrigan brothers’ hands. Both Rangers drew their six guns from their double-rowed cartridge belts and demanded to know what the riders wanted.

  “Just thought you might want some protection riding to town,” Rhey said. “Comanches are still out, you know.”

  Deed laughed. “So are you bastards.”

  Waving his gun, Ranger Williams said, “That’s not needed. You boys head on back to where you came from. Do it now.”

  Rhey gave Shields a hard glare. Shields shrugged his shoulders and the gunman reined his horse around and kicked it into a gallop. His men followed without a word. The scar-faced man turned to look at them, then hurried to catch up.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  When they reached the jail, Blue and Deed surrendered their gunbelts and stepped into separate cells. Deed made no attempt to mention his throwing knife behind his back; Blue kept the derringer in his boot and the lawmen didn’t search them. Ranger Williams promised either he or Rice would stand guard and both Corrigan brothers said they appreciated it.

  An hour later, Judge Oscar Pence came to visit. Stoop shouldered and gray bearded, he looked like a man in charge of the world and had the reputation of being hard but fair. His voice carried a definite Missouri twang though and his manner was more woodsman than magistrate. In his cheek was a chaw of tobacco and his hand held a small tin can for spitting tobacco juice. He wore a shoulder holster carrying a long-barreled revolver. Deed guessed he would know how to use it.

  “Deed Corrigan and Blue Corrigan. Heard about both of ya. And that brother, Holt, too. Hard men all o’ ya. Especially Deed. Heard ya whupped a giant o’ a man a few days back. Mostly to protect a Mexican friend. I like that.”

  Judge Pence paused and looked at Blue. “Hear ya preach some, Blue. That’s good. Won’t help ya none in my court, but it’s good.” He spat in the can. “I trust ya know what y’all are in here for. You’re accused of robbin’ the town bank. Serious stuff.”

  “We know the charges. They’re false,” Blue answered. “It’s the latest trick by Agon Bordner to get control of all the ranches around here.”

  “Heard ’bout that, too. This hearin’ is all about findin’ the truth,” Judge Pence declared, his graying eyebrows arching. “Whar’s yer brother. He’s accused o’ this, too.”

  “Don’t know, Judge. They came to the ranch and took us,” Blue said and glanced at Deed.

  “Heard he’s been ridin’ outlaw after the war.”

  Deed finally said, “He’s a good man. Fought for the South. Was one of the heroes at Sabine Pass. But he’s been blamed for every bank and stage robbery around.”

  “Heard that, too. He’d get a fair trial in my court.”

  Blue took hold of a cell bar with his one hand. “Judge, I assume a hearing is more informal than a trial. That right?”

  “I’ll give ya some leeway as long as it makes sense to me, if that’s what you’re askin’,” Judge Pence said. “Are ya representin’ yourselves?”

  “Yes, we are.”

  “Kinda risky, ya know.” The gray-haired man folded his arms. “Ya be up against Sylvestor Tritt. Been brought in by the bank from El Paso. Slick. Real slick. Been in my court a time or two representin’ some real scum.”

  “How long ago did he get here?” Deed asked, stepping to the front of the cell.

  “Don’ know. Does it matter?” Judge Pence spat into his can.

  “Well, it’s a long way to El Paso and we were supposed to have robbed that bank just yesterday,” Deed said. “I’d like to know when he got the word to come here.”

  Judge Pence blinked his eyes. “Hmm. So would I.” He straightened his worn cravat. “The hearin’ will start tomorrow mornin’. Nine o’clock. Sheriff Shields told me it was goin’ to be held at McCollum’s restaurant.” He chuckled. “Evidently there’s a lotta folks who want to sit in.” He spat and looked at the accumulating brown juice.

  “I’ll bet,” Blue said. “We’ll be ready, Judge.”

  “Hope so, son. Hope so.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Oh, there’s a stranger outside. Asked to see you. A Mr. James Hannah. Do you want to see him?”

  “Sure. He’s an old friend.”

  “Well, I hear he’s a professional shootist.”

  “Maybe so, but he’s our friend and has our backs. Everything around here is owned by Agon Bordner. The sheriff. Bank. General store. We have our doubts about you,” Blue said.

  Pence’s face hardened. “Wal, I ain’t owned by nobody nowhere.”

  “We sure hope so, Judge.” Blue smiled.

  Judge Pence stomped away, alternating talking to himself and spitting into his can. After the Corrigan brothers had a brief conversation with Hannah, he left. Most of the rest of the night was spent in preparation for the hearing. They didn’t sleep much; Blue insisted that his brother join him in prayer. For once, Deed agreed.

  Morning found them escorted to McCollum’s restaurant by the two Rangers. It was a cold day, blustery and gray. They
went first to the outhouse behind the jail so the brothers could relieve themselves. The walk was casual with the two lawmen more interested in the weather than the hearing. Neither noticed that Blue had hidden his good right arm inside his shirt and stuffed his empty left sleeve with towels to appear as if it were his good arm. A left-hand glove, stuffed with pages of the newspaper, had been sewn to his shirtsleeve, giving the appearance of a hand. The fake arm hung at his side.

  Rearranged for the trial, the restaurant was already packed with townspeople when Blue and Deed entered, escorted by the two Rangers. Several greeted them with encouragement. More didn’t look at them. Eight Bar 3 men had already cornered the best tables near the back of the restaurant where the trial would be held. The front of the restaurant was lined with additional interested people, standing and waiting. At the back near the kitchen, a table had been set aside for Pence to preside. One chair was placed for him; another at the table’s edge for witnesses. Two other tables had been arranged a few feet away—one for the prosecution and one for the defense.

  Shields was already sitting at the prosecution table, grinning like a cat. Next to him was a narrow-faced man with a carrot nose in a finely tailored black suit. His black eyebrows were thick, nearly becoming one. A matching goatee gave his thin face an evil look. Blue and Deed decided this must be Sylvestor Tritt.

  Agon Bordner sat at the table closest to Shields and Tritt. At his table were Dixie Murphy, Willard Hixon, Jephrum Virdin, the scar-faced gunman, and the blond gunman from the ride to town. All were talking and laughing. Deed noticed that Dixie and all the gunmen were armed. They should have expected as much with Shields as the sheriff. Someone was missing. Who? Oh yes, Deed thought to himself, it’s that gunman in the bearskin coat, Rhey Selmon. He’s too easily recognized to be here, even when the hearing is about us, he guessed.

  As Deed and Blue moved to the defendants’ table, Murphy snarled, “This is going to be a wonderful day. You Corrigans are going down.”

  Tritt glanced at them, then back to a paper he was studying.

  Ignoring the threat, Deed looked around and saw Atlee enter the restaurant with Silka. He smiled at her and she mouthed, “I love you.” Deed felt his heart bounce and returned the silent message. A few minutes later, Felix Sanchez walked in, accompanied by Cliente and Taol. They stood at the front area of the restaurant. Deed was glad to see they were armed with gunbelts. Felix’s eyes sought both brothers in a silent affirmation of support.

  Ranger Williams walked over to the Sanchez men to tell them they couldn’t have weapons in the courtroom. Instead of complying, Felix pointed to the tables of Bar 3 gunmen.

  “Take them first.”

  The Ranger pushed his hat back on his forehead and walked away. He wasn’t about to try disarming those tables. Not alone. And not with just Ranger Rice helping. Everyone should have been disarmed when they entered. That was the sheriff’s job. He would talk with the judge.

  As Deed and Blue sat down at the table reserved for the defendants, Judge Pence entered from the kitchen and took his position behind the first table. In his right hand was a gavel; in his left was the tin can. A chaw was evident in his mouth. He wore a black robe and Deed noticed a slight bulge near his upper left arm. The magistrate was wearing his gun.

  After banging the table for attention, Judge Pence made a simple statement that the purpose of a preliminary hearing was to determine whether sufficient evidence existed for the accused to be bound over for actual trial. He declared that the trial would be conducted in such a way as he decided and that he, and only he, would determine if such was needed. For emphasis, he spat a thick brown stream into his tin can.

  The blond gunman yelled, “Hang the no-good bastards. He tried to kill our friend, Sear.”

  Bordner’s hearty chuckle punctuated the declaration and he withdrew a black cigar from his coat pocket, bit off the end, and lit it. Smoke declared his sense of control in the room.

  Judge Pence slammed down his gavel. “This is my hearing. I will not tolerate any kind of outburst from those in this courtroom.” He glared at the man who had shouted.

  Ranger Williams sidled next to the gray-haired magistrate and told him of armed men in the room. Judge Pence nodded, banged his gavel again, and announced, “I have been informed by a trusted Ranger that several men were allowed into this courtroom carrying guns. I’ll have none of that here. Sheriff, you and the Rangers move through the citizenry and take their guns. Put them in the back of the room where they can be obtained when this hearing has ended.” He spat into his can. “Do it. Now.”

  Shields got slowly to his feet and looked at Bordner who nodded approval, then whispered, “Give them your visible weapons.”

  Rangers Williams and Rice and Sheriff Shields accepted the guns, shoving most of them into their waistbands. The Sanchez men and Silka complied with the command and Shields slunk back to his chair. The Rangers took a position beside the judge.

  Looking around the room, Judge Pence said, “All right. Court is in session.” He turned to Sylvestor Tritt. “Is the prosecution ready?”

  “We are, Your Honor.”

  “Proceed.”

  Clearing his throat, Tritt stood, straightening his coat. “The prosecution will show without a doubt that the three Corrigan brothers did rob the bank of Wilkon and abscond with over two thousand dollars of this town’s money. I call Willard Hixon as our first witness. He is president of the bank and a respected citizen of this town.”

  Looking nervous, Hixon rose from the table and took the witness chair.

  From the table, Dixie Murphy growled, “Tear ’em up, Hixon.”

  After being sworn in by Shields, Tritt asked him to describe the events of yesterday. He told the story of the robbery, almost as if reciting something written for him. The three Corrigan brothers, wearing masks, had entered the bank around four o’clock with guns drawn. He was alone in the bank at that time, except for a single teller. The brothers had taken $2,300 in gold and certificates. He finished, took a deep breath, and was visibly relieved.

  “Mr. Hixon, it is my understanding that one of the brothers, Blue, I believe, had sought a loan from you earlier in the day. Is that correct?” Tritt asked.

  “Uh, yes, it is. Blue said they were desperate for cash and needed the money to keep the ranch going through the winter,” Hixon said and licked his lips. “I couldn’t in good conscience give them such a loan. The fine people of Wilkon deserved better.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Hixon. We appreciate your forthrightness in this unfortunate matter.” Tritt glanced at Bordner who smiled. “And we have a witness, the teller who was also working in the bank at that time.”

  Judge Pence nodded and turned to Blue. “Do you boys wish to question this witness?”

  “Yes.”

  Hixon’s look at Bordner was one of near panic.

  Blue started to stand and the cuff of his left “arm” caught on the edge of the desk. He looked down and bit his lip, unsure of what to do. Deed leaned over and grabbed a piece of paper on the desk in front of Blue, hitting and clearing his shirtsleeve as he did. Blue resumed with his left “arm” resting against the table.

  “Mr. Hixon, you, sir, are a liar and are doing so under oath. That’s perjury.”

  “What?”

  The crowd burst into angry yells. Judge Pence pounded his gavel for silence, then reprimanded Blue for his statement.

  “Sorry, Your Honor, our parents always taught us to tell the truth. So I don’t have much sympathy for liars. But this is a court hearing, so we’ll do this piece by piece, witness by witness,” Blue said and turned to Hixon. “You said we came to you and needed a loan or we wouldn’t get through the winter, is that correct?”

  “Well, I—”

  “Is that what you said, Hixon?”

  “Uh, yes, I—”

  “Your Honor, I’d like to call our ranch partner, Nakashima Silka to come forward. He is bringing with him the money left over from our cattle drive to Kansas t
his summer,” Blue said and looked toward the front part of the restaurant. “If the judge would like to do so, he is welcome to count it. There is $4,012. As anyone in this place would agree, we don’t need more money . . . and we certainly didn’t ask Hixon, or anyone else, for a loan. You will also note we didn’t trust Hixon enough to put the money in his bank.”

  Brushing against Bordner as he passed, Silka brought the money forward in a large satchel and opened it in front of the judge. Deed thought it looked strange for his friend not to be wearing a sword. Judge Pence studied the contents for a moment and said, “It’s not necessary for me to count it. There is obviously a lot of money there. I accept the fact ya had no need to borrow.”

  From somewhere in the audience, a voice called out, “Go get ’em, Blue!”

  Judge Pence stared, but didn’t say anything.

  “Thank you,” Blue said. “Now, Hixon, your first lie is exposed. Let’s look at the rest of this fairy tale you told. You said three Corrigan brothers came into your bank at four o’clock yesterday. Is that right?”

  “Uh, yes.” Hixon’s forehead was glistening.

  “You said the robbers were masked,” Blue continued. “How did you decide it was Deed, Holt, and me?”

  Hixon straightened his back. “You called out to your brothers by name, Deed and Holt. And, of course, you were one-armed. Uh, like now.”

  “I see,” Blue looked down at the table. “You’re certain you saw me like this? My right arm gone and my left hand all right.”

  “Absolutely. Come on, Blue. You had a gun in your left hand, pointing it right at me.”

  “Deed, help me, will you?”

  Deed assisted his brother in taking off his shirt to reveal that his right arm was good and not his left. He rebuttoned his shirt, letting his right arm fill out the correct sleeve. The empty left sleeve dangled at his side. Gasps popped throughout the restaurant and Judge Pence put his hand over his mouth to hide a chuckle.

  “So, you were wrong again, Hixon. I have no left arm. You have no truth.”

  “Well, I—”

  Sylvestor Tritt jumped up. “Obviously, Your Honor, under the stress of being robbed at gunpoint, anyone could make such a mistake. The defendant was trying to fool the witness with a trick.”