“Morning, Elwood.”
“Morning, Homer.”
“Everything peaceful?”
“Yep. Homer, pick up your shotgun and come on back here with me.” Hinge led the way back toward the cells.
“What’s the matter, Elwood?”
“Nothing’s the matter.” The sheriff stopped in front of the two cells where Charlie Reno and Red Borden lay in their bunks digesting their breakfasts. “You see those two prisoners layin’ there peaceful and quiet?”
“Sure, I see them.”
“Well, don’t let all that peace and quiet fool you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean Charlie and Red and I had a little talk last night, didn’t we, boys?”
Both prisoners smiled and said nothing.
“They might look peaceful and quiet, but they be a couple of desperate men. Right, boys?”
No answer.
“You see, Homer, they told me that they got nothing to lose. They said that they just might try to bust outta here like they and them two corpses busted outta Fort Smith. Right, boys?”
No answer.
“Now, Homer, these are my instructions. If either one, or both, of these two desperados blink the wrong way or twitch in the wrong direction, use that shotgun and blow their heads off. I give you, and them, my word that I’ll sign a piece of paper swearing that they were trying to escape, not that anybody will give a damn. You got that, Homer?”
“Yes, sir. I got it.”
“Good.” The sheriff looked from Charlie to Red. “I hope you boys got it, too. Now, I’m going to go get me some breakfast.”
“Oh, Sheriff. Them three strangers who come to town, them brothers . . .”
“What about ’em?”
“Ran into them over at the Heidelberg.”
“And?”
“And they said to give you their regards.”
“That was friendly. See you later, Homer.”
Sheriff Hinge turned his collar up against the cold and started toward the New Heidelberg across the street.
“Sheriff!” Reverend Groves called out. “Sheriff Hinge. Good morning.”
“Morning, Reverend.” Hinge waited on the walkway as Reverend Groves approached from the direction of Inghram’s General Store.
“Well, sir,” Reverend Groves said as he arrived, smiled, and looked around at the early activity on the street. “It appears people hereabouts are getting into the holiday spirit.”
“It appears so.”
“Yes, it does.”
“Anything I can do for you, Reverend?”
“Well, Sheriff, Mrs. Groves and I are still looking forward to seeing you at services sometime soon. Mrs. Groves is over at Inghram’s putting in an order and visiting with Mrs. Inghram. Are we apt to see you soon? Maybe at the Christmas service? Mrs. Groves is a mighty fine organist and we’d admire to have you join us, Sheriff.”
“Well, I don’t know, Reverend.” Hinge glanced back toward his office. “I’ve got some people staying with me.”
“Oh, yes, I know. That’s another thing. I’ve brought along my Bible and while Mrs. Groves is waiting for the order and visiting with Mrs. Inghram, I thought it might be a good time to stop by and try to be of some comfort to those two souls.”
“By ‘those two souls’ you mean Charlie Reno and Red Borden?”
“I believe that’s what they’re called. Thought I might read to ’em from the book of Matthew.” Reverend Groves held up his Bible. “Start off with the Sermon on the Mount: ‘And He opened His mouth, and taught them, saying, Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted . . .’ and so on.”
“Yes . . . ‘Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.’”
“Why, that’s right, Sheriff, you do know your Bible. Well, what do you think?”
“I think that I appreciate your concern for those two souls, and I’ll convey the message. But right now I’m not allowing those two souls any visitors. Particularly when I’m not around, and right now I’m going to go over and have some breakfast.”
“How come?”
“Because I’m hungry.”
“No, sir, I mean how come no visitors?”
“No visitors, no distractions. No distractions, less chance of an escape attempt.”
“Escape? You mean . . .”
“I mean, suppose you got too close while you were doing that sermon, and suppose one of ’em grabbed you, choked you, or used you for a shield or hostage? Deputy Keeler would have to do what I told him—blow both their heads off, and, Reverend, your head might just get in the way. You see what I mean? I mean, we wouldn’t want that to happen, would we? And neither would Mrs. Groves, would she?”
“Well, yes.” Reverend Groves put the Bible into his pocket. “I see what you mean.”
“Merry Christmas, Reverend.” Sheriff Hinge headed toward the New Heidelberg Restaurant.
“Merry Christmas, Sheriff.” Reverend Groves headed back toward Inghram’s General Store.
Chapter 13
Shad Parker had been up since just before Reb’s daily salutation. He had had breakfast, collected the eggs, saw to the hogs, and went to work with the pick and shovel.
Not once during the morning had he so much as glanced up toward the hillside cave. Nor did he intend to. He had hoped that they were gone.
But they weren’t gone.
Austin, Peg, and Davy watched from above while the three of them waited for Austin to decide what they were going to do.
* * *
The Keeshaws were on horseback and had been for nearly half an hour. When Sheriff Elwood Hinge had entered the New Heidelberg Restaurant, Deek was inclined to engage the lawman in conversation to find out what more he could about the sheriff’s watchdog habits where his prisoners were concerned, and when those prisoners would be turned over to the proper authorities for proper punishment.
Deek figured after the prisoners were disposed of the sheriff would ease up on his vigilance around the jail and more importantly, the bank. But it was obvious from the sheriff’s attitude when he entered the restaurant that he was disinclined to engage in conversation with the Keeshaws or anybody else. He walked swiftly past the table where the Keeshaws sat and went directly to the last stool at the counter, the stool closest to the kitchen, where Erika Sweissgood was already pouring a mug of coffee for him.
Hinge nodded at Mrs. Sweissgood and gulped down close to half of the coffee in the mug before setting it back down on the counter, where she was waiting to fill it back up again. The sheriff turned his face away from the Keeshaws and the other customers until his breakfast came just a couple of minutes later.
Evidently, Deek reasoned, the Sweissgoods had spotted Hinge leaving his office and commenced preparing his breakfast, which must have been the same every morning because Hinge hadn’t ordered anything or said a word since he entered. Deek waited for Hinge to look in their direction so he could at least nod a greeting or get a chance to approach the lawman, but Hinge wasn’t having any of it. He just went about consuming his steak, eggs, and potatoes along with several mugs of coffee.
Deek decided that it would be wise to postpone any exploratory conversation with the sheriff until another time. The Keeshaws paid their bill, picked up their animals from the stable, and rode west.
As they approached a fork in the road, Deek reined up. So did Tom and Bart. Bart had been mumbling through his missing teeth for the last few minutes. As they stopped he checked his timepiece and wound it tight, as he had done first thing in the morning and last thing the previous night.
Deek pulled out of his pocket the map that Amos Bush had drawn and unfolded it while Deek continued to talk to himself.
“Bart,” Deek said, looking up from the map, “if you got somethin’ to say just flat out say it and I’ll listen, but you keep mumbling like you have been for some miles back and I swear, I’ll knock out the rest of y
our teeth, you hear?”
“I hear.” Bart nodded and put the watch back into his pocket.
“Well, then, what is it?”
“Hell, Deek, I’ll tell you what is it . . . it’s searchin’ out them sodbusters . . . Waste of time, I call it.”
“You do.”
“Well, ain’t it?”
“It is . . . and it ain’t.”
“I can reason how it is—but I can’t reason how it ain’t.” Bart looked from Deek to Tom and back to Deek again. “You know we’re not gonna buy no farm.”
“I know that, and you know that, and so does Tom,” Deek explained as would a patient teacher to a pupil, “but we don’t want Amos Bush to know.”
“How’s he gonna find out?”
“I’ll tell you how he might. What if one of these dirt-movers,” Deek pointed to the map, “pays Amos Bush a visit at the bank . . . and what if we haven’t paid that dirt-mover a visit after all the trouble Bush went to . . . drawing the map and all. Might’n banker Bush start getting suspicious, maybe even pass on those suspicions to his next-door neighbor, the sheriff? You ever think of that?”
“No, I didn’t,” Bart admitted.
“Deek’s right,” Tom said. “We got to go through the motions. Deek’s right.”
“What about that shotgun sheriff?” Bart asked.
“What about him?”
“You seen him. Him and that deputy, one or both of them’s always there. For all we know they sleep there, right next to that bank.”
“That’s what we’re gonna find out.”
“When?”
“I’ve been studying on that. Just as soon as we can without him getting suspicious, either. I think he’s a pretty wise ol’ party, that sheriff. I’ll know the proper time to talk to him.” Deek folded the map and returned it to his pocket. “In the meantime I’ll say this—Amos Bush might be a good banker, but he’s an almighty poor mapmaker.”
Deek spurred his horse and headed west. The brothers Tom and Bart followed.
Austin, Peg, and Davy, still on the craggy ledge of the cave, continued to look down at Shad Parker as he worked on still another rock with the pickax. The sun was now well above the rim of the hill and the day was about as warm and bright as it was going to get. But the outlook for the children seemed neither warm nor bright.
“I’m hungry,” Davy said.
Peg took hold of his hand.
“So am I,” Austin said. “And so is Peg. You’ve been a real good boy, Davy. We’ll get somethin’.”
“What?”
“I don’t know, but somethin’.”
“Remember what an egg tastes like?” Davy smacked his lips. “Could you get us an egg, Austin? Boy, I could eat a hundred eggs. That man down there, all them chickens, all them eggs. He might give us one or two. What do you think, Austin?”
“Let’s go down and ask him,” Peg said. “He just might.”
“I know his kind. Won’t do any good. You saw the way he acted last night.”
“He smelled of whiskey,” Peg reasoned. “Maybe he’ll look at it different this morning. Maybe we could help him do some chores. Want me to go down and ask him, Austin? . . . Austin?”
“Hey, look!” Austin pointed east.
Three riders turned off the road and approached the man working in the yard.
Shad had been aware of their approach. He took a couple of steps toward a large rock where his rifle leaned. He recognized the men as the Keeshaws. Shad stopped, still holding the pickax. The Keeshaws pulled up to within speaking distance.
“Howdy,” Deek greeted.
There was no response.
“Nice little spread you got here.”
Silence.
“We’re the Keeshaws, remember? We’re looking to buy a place around here ourselves. Talked to the banker in town about it, Amos Bush. He said the Davis place might be for sale. Drew up a map.” Deek took the map from his pocket. “You happen to know where the Davis place is from here?”
“No,” Shad said finally.
“Ever hear of . . .” Deek looked at the map . . . “something called Squaw Rock?”
Shad pointed toward a gnarled formation on a nearby hill, but didn’t speak.
“Davis place supposed to be just to the north. That’ud be over that way,” Deek did point north, “wouldn’t it?”
Shad didn’t so much as nod.
“Uh-huh.” Deek smiled. “You know, we’re liable to end up being neighbors. Wouldn’t that be something?”
“Yeah,” Bart mumbled. “Somethin’.”
“Say,” Deek did not give up smiling, “we need to water our animals. Mind if we use your well?”
“There’s a creek half mile to the north,” Shad said.
“Oh, there is, huh?” There wasn’t much left of Deek’s smile. “Well, much obliged, neighbor.”
Deek nodded toward his brothers, moved his horse back toward the road. As always Tom and Bart followed.
Shad looked after them a moment then went back to work.
“Well, Austin,” Peg said, “we just can’t stay up here like this all day.”
Austin continued to watch the man working and said nothing.
“We got to do something.”
“I’m really hungry,” Davy said once again.
“I’m going to go down there.” Peg took a step forward.
“No.”
“What, then? Austin, you think he knows we’re still up here?”
“He knows, all right.”
“He hasn’t even looked up this way once, not all morning.”
“He knows.”
“I’ll bet,” Davy looked at Austin, “he ate that hen for breakfast.”
“Austin,” Peg took another step, “I’m going down.”
“No, you’re not, not alone. Come on,” Austin moved ahead, “we’ll go down together.”
* * *
“You ever seen a white man,” Tom said after the Keeshaws rounded a bend far enough away so there was no possibility of Shad Parker hearing the comment, “mean as that son of a bitch in all your life?”
“Can’t say I have,” Deek noted.
“Must be part Injun,” Tom added.
“Part rattler, I’d say,” Bart said.
“Least a rattler makes noise before he hits,” Tom continued. “With one like that, you can’t tell.”
“You see that roll of bills he peeled off from, back there in that saloon the other day?” Bart commented. “He sure as hell ain’t as poor as he looks. Deek, how much money you reckon he carries?”
“Don’t know.”
“Well, if he carries that much,” Tom reasoned, “he’s likely got a lot more salted somewheres in that cabin. Either that or he’s got it over at that bank in town, in which case, he’s gonna be mad as hell when we lift it. If we ever do.”
“We’ll lift it, all right, when the time comes,” Deek assured. “But he don’t look to me like the kind who puts his faith in banks . . . or his money.”
“Why don’t you ask him, Tom?” Bart grinned. “Next time we see him?”
“I’m not anxious to see him, or talk to him, or winter with him.”
“Don’t have to,” Deek said, “Well, let’s get to that crick, then find the Davis place.”
“Wonder,” Tom mused, “if that Davis fella’s anything like his neighbor back there?”
“Don’t matter.” Deek nudged his horse on. “Don’t have to winter with him, either.”
Chapter 14
Shad Parker looked up and saw the three of them making their way down the hill and toward him. He had thought that the encounter last night would have been enough to discourage the young ones from further encroachment on his property or privacy but evidently they were not discouraged, at least not enough.
First the three Keeshaws had come poking around and now these three. Shad rested the head of the pickax on the ground and held on to the handle as Austin, Peg, and Davy approached.
They stopped
about ten feet away and stood in straight formation. The older boy’s eyes were just as unfriendly and challenging as Shad’s.
Silence.
Peg looked from Austin to the man with the pickax and decided that she was going to have to initiate the conversation if there was going to be one.
“Hello, mister.”
Shad didn’t speak.
“My name’s Peg, Peg Coats, and this is Davy, and . . . Austin.”
Shad neither introduced himself, nor broke his silence.
“We don’t mean to bother you none . . .”
Shad looked up toward the cave, then back to Peg.
“. . . we just wanted a place to stay the night and, well, Austin spotted the cave up there yesterday and so we just . . .”
“Look here.” Shad pointed to the hill. “That might not be my cave, but this sure as hell is my land. Any of you read?”
“Yes, sir. Austin and I both read.”
“Well, then read that sign, it says ‘No Trespassing’ and that’s what you’re doing. So just turn yourselves around and find someplace else to squat. There’s a town not far from here in that direction.” Shad pointed east. “You can find yourselves plenty of people to pester. You’ll be a lot better off than sticking around here and squatting in that cave and so will I.”
Shad Parker hadn’t put together so many words out loud since coming to Texas, but he hoped the speech, logical as it was, would convince the minor intruders to leave once and for all.
But now it was their choice to be silent, and they were. It was Shad who spoke again.
“Well? What’s wrong with that?”
“Just one thing, mister,” Peg said.
“What?”
“Well, sir, you see, we tried that before in other towns and they always want to send us back.”
“Back?”
“Yes, sir, to old Miss Stritch.”
“Miss Stritch?”
“Yes, sir. She’s in charge of the Faith, Hope, and Charity Orphanage over at Palestine . . .”
By that point Shad felt himself falling into a snare he had sought to, and succeeded in, avoiding since returning to and leaving the Shenandoah Valley. It was his intention to avoid as much contact and especially involvement with any and all form of humans or even animals to which he might in any way become attracted or attached. Shad Parker did not want to care about anybody or anything. It was his further intention to put a stop to this conversation.
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